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-harmonytbh · 1 day ago

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the wayward kind still love deep

summary: Smoke returns to the Delta after years of war and silence, he seeks the woman he never stopped loving, but the past, both sweet and bitter, won’t let them move on without a fight. (angst, longing)

pairing: smoke x black plus sized!reader, platonic!stack x reader

warnings: cursing, mentions of war, sexual tension and suggestive content.

author's note: I haven't written fanfics since my Team Mindless days, but I'm a Mississippi girl obsessed with Sinners and decided to give it a go...be easy on me. will definitely continue this. Also, a comma hates to see me coming, so ignore any improper punctuation and typos. This was one of those do it scared moments lol

Nothing prepared her for the light rapping against her window shutters before dawn that morning. She leaned bleary-eyed over the windowsill trying to make sense of the dark figure gazing up at her from the dewy ground below her window. The cicadas were still screeching their nightly song, and lightning bugs flitted here and there. Once her eyes acclimated to the inky darkness she knew instantly. Felt it in her bones. Felt it in the thump-thump-thump of her heart against her ribcage. It was Elijah…or “Smoke” now, she supposed. Some time around their thirteenth year, she watched the light leave Elijah’s eyes. She noticed the way the smooth brown surface of his face became a brick wall not even she could penetrate. Smiles were few and far between, laughter even more rare. That was Smoke. The Elijah she knew was foolhardy and goofy, the first to crack a joke or play a prank with his other half—the easygoing and charming Elias, or “Stack” now. Yes, the Moore boys were men now and with that came new identities and an air of mystique that alienated them.

“Smoke?” She called out cautiously. She knew it was him. Of course, she knew it was him. She’d bet her left pinky toe on it, but the question was more of a inquiry about what the hell he wanted with her at the ass-crack of dawn after seven years of silence.

“Yeah it’s me honey. Come fishin’ wid me,” he called back plainly. Like it was normal. Like it was broad daylight. Like it wasn’t THE ASS-CRACK of dawn.

“So I s’pose them German trenches an’ Chicago gangways finally rid ya of whatever lil sense ya did have Lijah, huh?”

“So I s’pose ya want me tuh make a scene in fronta God and evr’ybody, huh?” He retorted easily, and she had no doubt he would make good on his promise. She kissed her teeth and stepped away from her window.

He sighed audibly as he saw the light from her oil lamp wash her room in golden light. Smoke swore to himself if he ever came back to the Delta for her that he would come proper. Ask her family for her hand and do all the typical gentlemanly shit. And there would be time for that, but he and Stack had just rolled into town an hour ago under the cloak of darkness with stolen money, beer, wine, and enough stories to fill a library. He wasn’t feeling too gentlemanly. He wanted—no—needed to see her as soon as the tires on the truck crunched to a halt at the gravel fork in their shared road. He would make an honest woman out her if that’s what she wanted, but for tonight, all he wanted to do was sneak off into the night like they used to do before all of this. Before he was one half of the notorious SmokeStack twins, before he was drafted to fight for a country that spit in his face when his shiny boots reconnected with the soil that was made of him and held his mother and father. Smoke shoved his trembling hands into the rough tweed of his neatly tailored pants and felt around for a cig to calm his nerves. As he flicked the lighter, she emerged from the house looking more beautiful than any woman had a right to look before the first tinges of daylight threatened the horizon. His heart slammed in his chest. His girl, in the flesh. Not in a fleeting fever dream under the barrage of artillery, not in the hazy memory of a daydream before running a play. She stood before him, all woman, every luscious inch of her. His eyes raked over her possessively, committing this new iteration of her to memory for later…hopefully there would be no need for later. She was all legs and mouth last time he saw her, but in his absence she had blossomed into a beautiful woman. Filled out was too loose a description for the way she had transformed over these past seven years, and he felt the male parts of him stirring at the thought of what other parts of her had matured while he was away. He shook his head to banish the thought, hopefully there would be need for that later. She cocked her head to the side, curls spilling from beneath a bandana she tied around the front of her head, a mild flash of annoyance in her eyes.

“An’ how ya figure we gon’ fish with no poles or bait Elijah?” she rasped sleepily, looking around him for evidence of fishing materials and tutting when her suspicions were validated.

“Yo Pa still keeps some fixins in the shed, right?” he said back hopefully, watching as she turned on her heels and switched toward the back of the house muttering under her breath.

“Good God a’mighty,” he groaned just low enough for her to faintly make out.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that Lijah, ‘fore I knock da fire from ya mannish ass,” she spat over her shoulder before gesturing at him to help her open the rickety shed door.

After grabbing what they needed, they set off toward the creek on at the back of her family’s property. Their spot. An uncomfortable silence enveloped them as the meandered through the dark, the cacophony of the Mississippi countryside punctuating their steps as the full moon overhead washed everything in a dreamy milky haze.

“I must be dreaming,” she thought to herself, “Surely I fell off that mare yesterday, and I’m laid up in my mama’s bed hallucinatin’.”

“Where Stack?” She finally asked after several minutes of tense silence. She didn’t miss the quick smirk at the mention of his brother. Still partners in crime.

“Restin' back at the house. Surely he’ll wait and come pay ya a visit at a more respectable hour, unlike his uncouth pig of a brother,” he joked back easily, and she found herself smiling despite herself.

She had missed him—both of them. For their early childhoods they were inseparable. As time went on, and life got rough, she and the twins clung to each other. When Smoke was eventually drafted and Stack joined him in service voluntarily, it wounded her. She was unsure how she would continue without their company. Her days were filled with chores around the farm, learning roots at the feet of her mama, and missing the Moore boys somethin’ fierce. She’d send many a letter by Lil Sammie, hoping they made it all those miles away to them, but aside from a short postcard from Stack from Paris, she didn’t hear a peep.

“An’ why couldn’t ya wait, Smoke?” She asked stopping to square her shoulders in his direction. He removed his cap and rested it against his chest. Her breath caught at the serious gaze in his eyes, the moonlight fanning out over his lashes that seemed to stretch further than any cotton field she’d ever seen. His jaw jumped in the way it only did when he had something to say and didn’t know how to spit it out.

“Cause I missed ya honey, an’ I couldn’t go another minute without layin’ eyes on ya,” he replied frankly, not daring to break eye contact. So there it was. The perfect words…six years too late.

“It only took ya half a decade to say that, Elijah. What in the hell that s’posed tuh do fuh me now? I’m happy. Livin’ my life. Don’t come disturbin’ me now cause ya figured out whatever is out dere in dat big wide world of your’n ain’t shit,” she spat back through hot tears.

You could say many many things about the twins, but you can’t say they didn’t have audacity. Ever since they were boys, they bent the world around them to their will. They walked like God sewed gold into the seat of their britches, and they helped him hang the stars with their own hands. Damn her if she didn’t believe it herself for a while. That was before she met Titus. Now, she didn’t especially love Titus, but she liked him just fine. He was kind, thoughtful, and sensible. He wanted a simple life with her and maybe a few kids, maybe not. What more can she ask for? Not this, this being jerked around by Elijah. Yes she still loved him, never stopped and probably never will, but he wasn’t the marrying kind.

“I know, baby. I know. I got all ya letters from Sammie. I still have every single one. They kept me from losin’ my good sense over there in the war. Knew I had someone waiting on me tuh git back, knew I had somethin' tuh live for,” he cooed lowly, stepping forward to envelop her into an embrace.

She jumped back like he was a scalding hot pot. Just like that, the cage of his countenance returned, and he continued stomping toward the creek.

“Knew ya weren’t gon’ be my biggest fan darlin’ but damn. I expected a warmer reception than dis heah,” he spat bitterly, shaking his head adorned in immaculate waves.

“Well damn, Smoke. What did ya really expect? I wrote cha fuh years, waited on ya fuh years. Didya think time stops fuh Elijah Moore?”

He stopped in his tracks and spun around quickly.

“Nuh uh, never, but I thought it might fuh us,” he said simply before stopping down by the creek bank and unceremoniously dropping their poles and bait.

“At any rate princess, somethin’ made ya saddity ass come out tuh come fish wid me, so might as well enjoy the moment, huh?” He grumbled before lighting another cigarette.

“Fuck ya, Elijah Moore,” she said, jutting her chin forward, white hot shame blooming in her chest. He was right, he still had a hold on her and even though she wanted to hate him, wanted to tell him to take a long walk off a short ledge, she knew she would do anything to share this moment with him.

“If only I was that lucky, baby.”

Part Two

#smoke x reader #sinners fic #sinners x reader #smoke and stack #elijah moore #sinners #smokestack twins #michael b jordan x reader #smoke x black oc #sinners movie #sinners imagine #elias moore x reader #elijah moore x reader

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kira-dofc · 2 days ago

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Rich Fanboy! Nanami x Cosplayer! Male Reader

Notes: I'VE BEEN GONE FOR TOO LONG SO I HOPE THE WAIT IS NOT LONG ENOUGH!!! This was in my drafts but never really made anything new... I don't know what to write, any suggestions will be appreciated!!!!

Word Count: 3000

Warnings: Smut! Size kink, unprotected sex, crossdressing, feminization, mirror sex, slight out of character (?) Nanami, Manipulation sex, breeding kink,

Kento Nanami. A name known far and wide, especially among the wealthy. To most people, he seemed like the perfect man. He was mature, kind, and deeply respected. He had the kind of money others could only dream about. Everything about him seemed flawless, from the way he dressed to the calm way he spoke. People believed he had everything. Money, manners, and a quiet charm that made him very likable. Among the rich, he was the richest. His life was full of luxury, comfort, and things most people would never have.

He lived in a mansion that was the biggest and most beautiful in the whole area. It looked like something from a movie or a fairy tale. The garden around the house was full of flowers, trees, and perfectly trimmed bushes. Every flowerbed looked like it had been painted by a master artist. A team of gardeners worked every day to make sure everything looked perfect. Inside, his house was just as beautiful. Servants kept everything clean and running smoothly. They were always present but never in the way. Everything worked like clockwork.

But even with all of this, Nanami felt something was missing. He had no family. He had never fallen in love. Romance had never made its way into his life, even though people often tried to get close to him. He also had a hard time talking to children. Their loud voices and quick energy didn’t match his slow and thoughtful way of living. Because of this, he often felt alone. He lived in a house made for many people, yet he walked its halls by himself. He was surrounded by beauty, but his life lacked real connection.

Most people believed Nanami was perfect. They thought someone with his lifestyle couldn’t possibly have any problems. But that wasn’t true. Behind his calm face and perfect life was a secret. A secret so dark that if anyone found out, it would destroy the image the world had of him. It was something only he knew. It followed him wherever he went, like a shadow that never left his side. This secret made him feel trapped. He often stared out of his mansion windows, wondering how long he could keep living this lie.

Each day started exactly the same. At 8:00 a.m. sharp, Nanami would wake up. The sunlight came in softly through the tall windows of his bedroom, making the walls glow gold. He opened his eyes slowly, groaning quietly as he stretched his arms. His bedroom was clean and modern. Everything was black, grey, and white, creating a quiet, serious feel. His bed was large, with soft pillows and perfect sheets that looked untouched. Even in sleep, he stayed neat.

The room was silent. Not even the sound of birds could be heard through the thick windows. He got out of bed and walked across the cool marble floor. Each step made a soft sound that echoed through the quiet room. The floor was shiny and smooth, reflecting the morning light. He walked down the grand staircase with slow, even steps. Every part of his routine was carefully planned and followed.

He entered the kitchen, which was full of stainless steel counters and high-end appliances. It was spotless, like something out of a design magazine. Nanami cooked his own breakfast, as he liked the calm it brought. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air as he moved around the kitchen with ease. He toasted a slice of bread until it turned a perfect golden color. His breakfast was simple but delicious. Sitting alone at a long mahogany table, he ate slowly. The quietness around him made the meal feel peaceful but also a little sad.

After breakfast, he went back upstairs to shower. His bathroom looked like something from a luxury spa. The walls were marble, and the glass shower let warm water fall like rain. The hot water helped him feel more awake, washing away the last bits of sleep. He dried off and put on one of his many suits. Each one was tailored perfectly to fit him. He tied his silk tie and looked in the mirror. The man staring back looked strong and sure of himself. But even in the mirror, Nanami could see something missing in his eyes.

He left the mansion and went about his usual duties. Meetings, events, and quiet drives in the city filled the day. He moved through everything with a calm and steady presence. People nodded at him with respect. Some smiled in admiration. Others watched him with envy. But none of them really knew him.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with soft shades of orange and pink, Nanami returned home. His car, sleek and black, pulled up to the grand gates of his estate. The iron gates opened slowly, and the car rolled along the cobblestone driveway. The mansion stood tall at the end, glowing in the warm light of the evening.

He parked in front of the large entrance and stepped out. His suit still looked perfect, even after a long day. He walked into the house, and the quiet met him like an old friend. Servants greeted him with soft bows. He nodded back, barely noticing them. He was tired. All he wanted was to lie down and rest.

He walked up the stairs, each step echoing softly in the empty hall. When he reached his bedroom, he opened the door and was greeted by soft, golden lighting. The room looked just as he had left it. Calm and neat. He took off his shoes and slipped out of his blazer. Then he unbuttoned his shirt halfway, showing his chest. He dropped onto the bed, the soft mattress hugging him gently. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax.

Then, his phone pinged.

The screen lit up with a notification.

It was an Instagram Live.

He blinked, surprised. His heart skipped a beat when he saw who it was.

You.

One of the most famous cosplayers in the world. A person he admired for a long time. Nanami didn’t usually watch livestreams. But this time, he tapped the notification without a second thought. The screen loaded, and there you were.

You were wearing a costume. A pair of cat ears on your head. A cat tail. And, strangely enough, a maid outfit. You smiled brightly at the camera and waved. “Hi everyone!” you said in a cheerful voice.

Nanami stared.

Your smile lit up the screen. It felt warm and real. The kind of smile that could make anyone feel seen. It made his chest feel tight.

Your face was beautiful. Not in the usual, polished way celebrities looked. But in a softer, more honest way. Your eyes were bright and full of life. Your lips curled into a smile that made his heart race. Your cheeks had a soft pink glow. Your hair was dark and shiny, falling gently around your face.

Nanami felt himself blush. He knew he shouldn’t stare. But he couldn’t look away.

To him, you were perfect.

There was something about you that felt different from the people he usually met. Maybe it was how real you were. Or how your energy felt so alive, even through a screen. You weren’t rich like him. But you had something he didn’t. Joy. Passion. A connection to people.

He wanted to talk to you. To get to know you. To be near you. The thought was strange. Nanami had never felt this kind of interest in someone before. Not like this. Not so fast. But he couldn’t deny it.

He wanted you to be his.

He watched quietly as you laughed and answered comments. You seemed so happy. So full of light. As if the world had never hurt you. As if everything was still fresh and exciting. He envied that. But more than anything, he wanted to be part of it.

Even if just for a moment.

As the livestream continued, Nanami laid there, eyes locked on the screen. For the first time in a long time, his heart didn’t feel so heavy. Something inside him stirred. A tiny spark in the dark. He didn’t know where it would lead. He didn’t know if he would ever meet you.But one thing was clear. His life of quiet routine and cold perfection had just been shaken by something simple. A smile. And it had changed everything.

He then felt his shaft grew in length.It was tenting on his pants. It's his first time to feel this, especially because he felt this for you. He was ecstatic to see this charming, boy wearing ridiculous costumes in front of a camera for views, maybe even money. This unnerving feeling made him want to do something, something he never knew he wanted; needed to do. "Shit, what is this..." some words slipped out of his mouth, breathing heavily as the dent grew larger, it became very uncomfortable at this point. He finally gave in, he released the zipper for a thick, long shaft to come out, twitching every time his heart skip a beat. He looked at it, tense whether he should do something about it or not. "Fuck it," He whispered to himself, soon warming his cock with his hands, and start to move up, then down repeatedly as you speak across the screen. To his eyes, it felt like he was facing you physically, something that he wanted, needed just for him to feed on. His continued motion caused him to finally finish, cum spurting to his face.

He tensed up again, and sighed, not cause of relief, but because of something else. He thought of something, and that something included you. He wanted you. So after that very thought, he immediately picked up his phone again, and called some of his "friends".

"Yes, sir?" the other guy on the line spoke, Nanami straightened his back, "This person named Y/n, search him up and find his details, call me immediately afterwards," he kindly spoke the the other, hinting something. "Noted, sir. I'll immediately report as soon as we find out." The line ended, Nanami sighed and leaned back to his chair, "I need you, Y/n"

The very next day your information was given to him. Your phone number, full legal name, age, location, everything. He wanted to call you for a "business proposal" of some sorts. He held the paper your number was written on. He was very hesitant at first, thinking you would feel weird talking to him. But at the end of the day, he dialed in your number, and pressed the call button. The ringing tensed him up, the continuous ringing gave him an unsettling feeling. The ringing soon came to a stop, for a warm voice to come up after, "Hello?" You said, seemingly confused of a sudden call of an unknown number. "Greetings, my name is Nanami Kento," Nanami spoke up, "This talk should be conducted physically, though I do not have the power to do that. Anyway, I'm here to propose a business proposal." He waited for a response, you were shocked that you were talking to the most richest business man in all of Japan, but you were unsure as to why he would ask you, a cosplayer, for a business proposal? "I-i'm sorry sir, but i'm afraid i'll have to-" "300 million yen, nothing more, nothing less." You of course is shocked, what is this job that could pay you almost 2 million dollars? And why does it have to be you? You were pretty tight on the budget, considering you used all of your money for costumes, "O....k?" you muttered slowly, unsure of your answer, before you could talk back, "Good, then that is settled, I will provide you my location, make sure to be there at exactly 7 p.m." The call soon ended. You're still in shock, what the hell is this guy thinking? Well, at this point, you don't have any choice but to go... I guess.

6:30, you arrived early before the expected time. You waited outside a grand, luxurious looking hotel. Was it a hotel, or one of his buildings? You shrugged off the question and waited. your peac was soon interrupted by two men in black, shades planted to their face. "Are you, Y/n L/n? Please come with us." The one spoke, you silently followed them across the wide lobby to an elevator. The ride was taking too long, "wait is this a penthouse?" you thought to yourself. And yes it was, what did you expect from the richest man to have? a rented motel? The elevators shifted open to reveal a modern looking room. A piano to the side, a fountain, and the biggest windows you have ever seen. Your eyes glowed with the sight you were seeing. Your sight seeing was soon cut off short by a tall man walking towards you, "Ah, your here. You two, leave." His voice was commanding, he sounded chilling. He patted you back, seemingly acted out to follow him.

He led you to a room, the smell of sandarwood filled your lungs. But what caught your eye was a costume, a bikini along with a semi-transparent babydoll dress. You didn't question it, but just decided to still follow him inside. He soon walked up to a piece of paper, along with a pen, "Just sign this contract, don't mind reading it all," You obliged and followed, signing it; what's there to lose? He then spoke up again, "I never told you this "business proposal", but it'll pay you a lot, doubt that you'll decline at this point," he muttered, slowly taking off his watch, walked near you and leaned in, "I want to fuck you." The words slipped out his voice made you flinch. Why would he want that? Would you just sell your body for money? "I-I..." you stuttered, "You have no choice anyway, you signed the contract." You sighed, but you also wanted it at this time. You blushed, and gave him a silent nod. That nod meant a lot to him, he chuckled caressing your jawline slowly. "I gave you a gift," He looked over to the lingerie, "Wear it for me," He whispered closely to your ears, this sent a shiver down your spine, but it made you crave him even more. You went up to it and walked towards the bathroom. Nanami sat down on a chair, "No, strip in front of me." You noticed the large mirror covering the entire wall behind Nanami. You followed, and took of your clothes piece by piece, and showed your hard dick. It was small, but Nanami liked that even more. Your blush made him feel a lot more tense.

A lot more hungry.

As soon you wore it, he rushed into you and kissed you. It wasn't soft, it was rough, leaving you no space and time to breath. He held your face, and you held his hand. This intense kissing session made you fall to the bed, with his arms grazing your figure. He kissed your neck to your collarbone. He took off the dress along with the bra, playing with your nipples as he kissed your body. Your moans made him become hard even more. You touched his hair, it was hard with the gel still intact and the sharp loose ends at every side of his head. You never knew you would end up this way, slutting over a rich man that's happening to be fucking you this very moment. His groan vibrated to your body.

His kissing soon came to a stop, and reached up to you, "Suck me" He commanded, his hand over your head. His musky scent made you fall into a trance-like state, something you must follow, something you cannot control. So you fully gave in, pusehd him down the bed, and zipped down his pants. You saw his enlarged dick spring out, precum spilling, matching the beat to his heavy breathing. You leaned in, and sucked. Your tongue was a professional at this, you never knew you could do such acts. You sucked in and out, circling around dick as the musk scent of his pubes covering his penis. You rammed your face to his dick, you don't care if you looked like a whore at this state, all you wanted was to taste him fully.

He held your head tightly, "Stop, I want to save my babies for your pussy," He smirked, lifting your head to face him. He carried you up, off the bed as you two stood in front of the massive mirror. He took off the rest of his clothes, touching your body like pottery, following your shape, your size, your curves, you. "You look so beautiful, darling," He continued touching you. Without any hesitation, he came inside of you. It was slow, but it felt painful to you. You didn't flinch, you wanted to feel him fully. You held in your pain, holding his chin down for him to look at you. Every thrust made you feel different, with his face looking at you every thrust. You looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked in deeply to your eyes, you looked different, you don't look the same. You wanted him, but do you really want this?

Thrusts soon turn into pushes, you leaned in to the mirror as Nanami held your body close to him. Hi thrusts grew stronger, more than you could handle. Your moans turned into screams, yells, but you liked it either way. Each thrust made you feel different emotions, sadness, happiness, anything. One last thrust, you felt something warm and wet come inside you. Your eyes felt like popping out. His chin rested against your bare shoulders, "You'l be living with me from now on. Don't worry about your life, I'll make it better, if you give in to me." You faced him, and rested your arms to his shoulders, "One question though,"

"Why me?"

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tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang · 2 days ago

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even if it's late, I gotta request: Shinichiro as your boyfriend headcanons?? 🥹 any aspects you want, but I'd LOVE to see how his family and friends react and interact <33 have a great night/day!!

Here are some (Shinichiro definitely deserves to be a boyfriend)!

Both his friends and his family actually thinks he's joking or trying to trick them when he announces he's seeing someone. They've teased him about being rejected for so long that they're pretty surprised someone accepted his confession this time. Shinichiro has a hard time trying to convince them this is real (Mikey even suggests you're imaginary at first before meeting you).

Begs his friends (and Manjiro) to not embarass him before he introduces you to them (of course they all ignore this and tell a bunch of embarrassing stories about him instead).

They're all pretty friendly towards you though they have a tonne of questions. Emma, Izana and Mikey (Mikey asks the most random ones like if you like taiyaki? and can you fight?) They want to know everything about you (this has never happened before so they're pretty excited) and Shinichiro's friends want to know the details of him asking you out (they're still pretty surprised).

Shinichiro can't stop saying my girlfriend/ my boyfriend. He just loves saying that he finally has a partner.

And definitely brags about you to his friends a lot, he just loves talking about you, especially in this early stage. Everyone get's a bit sick of him going on and on about you eventually lmao.

Shinichiro also get's a lot of random advice about you and how to be a good boyfriend in the early stages.

Shinichiro makes sure he does basically every romantic gesture he can think of (especially seems to love bringing you flowers). He likes how happy it seems to make you.

He is a bit shy when it comes to getting physical, he badly wants to hold your hand, hug you, kiss you etc but get's a bit nervous to (he overthinks it a lot) ends up nervously laughing while asking you to. And yes this get's him teased by his friends.

He automatically grins everytime he sees you, he doesn't even seem to notice it but he get's so much happier when he spots you.

His siblings love you and unfortunately for Shinichiro like to have your attention anytime you're altogether. You've been stolen away from Shinichiro a few times by his siblings when he planned to hang out with you.

Shinichiro offers to drive you around everywhere, likes the feeling of you being so close to him and wants you to see how much fun being on a bike is (or how much fun his bike is).

He's a very good listener, you can say you like something just once and he'll remember it.

Whenever you hug him, he always murmurs that being in your embrace is the best place in the world

He's a lot happier overall with you around too, not that he was exactly sad before but he has an extra spring in his step and smiles even more then before.

Also refuses to work late anymore, he used to stay late with the bikes if something needed doing but now wants to get back to you as soon as possible. Shinichiro actually doesn't even realise this though, it's Inui who points out that he's started doing this.

Has so many pet names for you, seems to use a different one every time. (He keeps a sort of draft list of them where he writes down new possible ideas)

Secretly plans to marry you (his friends already know because they were teasing him about it and he started blushing and not meeting their eyes)

He also daydreams a lot about you while away from you and apparently makes a certain face while doing it, the others call it his "boyfriend face".

And finally, even after the hardest days for him, coming home and seeing you and the way you look at him/ treat him always makes him smile.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev #sano shinichiro #shinichiro sano #tokyo revengers spoilers

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 2 days ago

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Comfort in Unexpected Places | Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: you and JJ broke things off, but whose arms *cough*-bed do you fall into looking for comfort?

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Trying to clean up my drafts. x

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“Me and y/n are over. I broke it off last night.”

“Ok good, cause I slept with her last night.”

"After all we've been through-" You follow JJ down to the dock where he's untying the boat, "You're just going to end things?!"

"We both deserve better. Look we've been through a lot, but I think the feelings are just not there anymore, you know?" He shrugs, "I don't want to string you along anymore."

"String me-" You scoff, "string me along? Whatever, JJ. You're such a dick and I can't believe I wasted so much time on you."

You stomp away, pissed and broken hearted. After all this time, all this effort you'd put into the relationship and into JJ and he ends things? You'd done everything to try and help him get on to a better path.

You find yourself a few drinks deep at the local dive bar a cigarette hanging between your lips, you take a drag.

"When did we start smoking?"

You blow the smoke out, recognizing the voice, "a girl can have a cigarette every now and then."

He slips in the stool next to you, waving down the bartender, "I'll have what she's having." He smirks a little, side eyeing you, "and put her drinks on my tab."

"oh?" You crush the cigarette in the ash tray, "You're going to pay for my drinks?"

He shrugs, "a little birdie told me you were nursing a broken heart. I figured it's the least I can do."

"Word travels fast."

"You deserved better than Maybank anyways." Rafe places a hand on the back of the stool, leaning toward you, "I've been waiting for him to fuck up so I can swing in and save you."

You roll your eyes, laughing, "You're so stupid," You push him away from you. "You've never once looked my way. I'm not your type."

He chuckles, but leans in once more, eyes locked on yours, "Now, how do you know you're not my type? Maybe you've had your eyes on the wrong guy and haven't noticed me yet?" It was the truth. He'd had his eyes on you all this time, but knowing you were Maybank's there was no overstepping. You weren't his. Now though? Now you were anyone's. And Rafe wanted to make you his tonight.

You feel yourself heat up at the look he's giving you. A look of passion and longing. Suddenly you start to look at Rafe differently. Had he always been this hot and desirable? Maybe it was the alcohol but when Rafe asked you if you wanted to get out of there, you didn't hesitate to take his hand and follow him wherever he took you.

The next night a local party, you'd stepped away to grab a drink when JJ and the rest of the Pogues arrived. Rafe couldn't wait for this. The moment he could rub it in JJ's face. JJ had fumbled losing you. You were beautiful, funny and Rafe realized he wished he'd over stepped the boundary sooner so he could have had more time with you.

"Hey man," Rafe approached JJ, "How's it going?"

"Fine," JJ replied, "What do you want?"

"Oh you know," he sips his beer, "I was just wondering about y/n? You two showed up separately tonight."

“Me and y/n are over. I broke it off last night.” JJ says.

Rafe can't help the smirk that plays against his lips, “Ok good, cause I slept with her last night.”

If looks could kill. JJ's sure he didn't hear him right, "Excuse me?"

"y/n." Rafe points to you at the drink table, "I slept with her last night."

"You son of a bitch-" JJ lunges at Rafe, who is chuckling and shakes JJ off.

"Hey man, you broke it off with her. That's on you. I'd say you lost the best thing that could have happened to you. But I also have to thank you." He watches you heading toward him and smiles at you, patting JJ on the shoulder without even looking his way, "Cause now she's my treasure."

Thanks for reading! Comments, likes and reblogs always welcomed and appreciated! x

#obx imagines #outer banks imagines #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #obx imagine #obx fanfics #outer banks fics #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron x #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x reader

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ranticore · 2 days ago

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YEAR 612: RESEARCH NOTEBOOK OF [REDACTED]

If found, promptly return to [REDACTED]

Entry 1

I've been told that my actual abstract and introduction should go somewhere else and that this is a space merely to record my thoughts and observations as I work. When I eventually publish my autobiography I'll find these notes invaluable. But for now I dispense with the introduction as nobody else will be reading this rough draft anyway aside from you Ami (you're not nearly as sneaky as you think). In addition, I'd rather not sacrifice this reedsilk for the sake of basic definitions.

The question of the Precursors has plagued me as long as I've known them etcetera etcetera this is not news and today I have received my most promising artifact yet. It is a small cylindrical device not unlike the memories within a longwing visor (Postmaster Mia-kef STILL refuses to allow me to examine his. For the attention of my future self: discover some way to bribe him). I have seen only illustrations of a dismantled visor, anyway, and inside the case there are these cylindrical devices.

Now one lands on my desk. It was not I that discovered it but one of the dredgers working at the docks. They would have thrown it out into the midden heap if not for one of my students (Heda-var was it?? Or Hebi-var. The pink one.) who had been buying fruit blocks at the floating market that very moment. He thought the device looked to be of interest to myself and he was right - I can confirm now that I've cleaned off the mud and exofauna that this is of Precursor origin. It is with some regret that I deny that particular student their [graduation] ceremony this year, unfortunately his scholarly work is borderline illiterate. I think I'll tell him to join the trades instead.

Anyway. To any uneducated dock-selkie or unapprenticed fledgling, it may be hard to tell. I see before me a hand-long cylinder roughened by the sea, with a hole at either end, in which sits a small metal prong. Any craftsperson could make a replica of this, presuming they were only intending to copy the look. But it is the material that betrays its ancient origin. This is not reed resin or stone, it isn't laminated silk, it's not the carved and shaped shell of a sipho. This material is lightweight, and if scraped, reveals itself to have been white originally, under the discolouration. An obsidian knife will do the trick. In the white tracks you will find that it is shiny, as well. This substance is a form of resin used by Precursors, which we cannot reproduce (I've tried) (note to self, this would be a brilliant paragraph for my biography).

I have a few pieces myself in my personal bower, some very rare, which I brought with me from the Breaks. I still can't believe that my most uncommon resin mounting bracket was being used as ballast in that dirty fishing boat. My goodness I'm glad I saved THAT.

Until this landed on my desk, my wire tab was my favourite. Having sent samples to the scholars of material science I can confirm that this cylinder's origin is Siren: when heated in a furnace the structure behaves predictably, and the scholar described and illustrated his findings of oil droplets similar to our own resins produced from reed stalks. Oh - I suppose that's for the results and methodologies, not this journal.

My bower is rather cramped and Ami-var is a passionate singer, so it's difficult to arrange my thoughts. I believe that if I were to fix this artifact into a reciprocating slot within, say, a longwing visor, I might be capable of accessing some of its contents. It would be a breakthrough the likes of which we have not seen since my master Pelti-vas first published his theses on Precursor diet. This one is larger than a longwing visor cylinder certainly but I am fascinated by that implication; perhaps there is a larger visor somewhere, for larger PrecurSURELY one gets bored of 'Over the Bowl-Run River' after its EIGHTH chorus

Argued with Ami-var again. He still doesn't believe that Precursors are anything more than a so-called 'common ancestor' that we harpies developed from. We do agree that Precursors were likely most similar to us shortwings but where does that leave longwings in this 'evolutionary' model? There is no fossil evidence of a so-called 'missing link' between longwings and Precursors.

There are myths among the Western Spiral peoples of a common ancestor to all Sirenians, though they do focus more upon the sea-dwellers. Tektei-vas would not cease his yapping about all his travels among pelagic villages in every ocean and all their particular myths. I'd like to know whose dick he sucked to get such a venture funded. When I last proposed a research trip to Odr's Sleep to view the Precursor structure there, Iuinti-vay-or laughed me out of his bower.

"How ridiculous! You want materials and funding for yourself, three students, two barge-workers, a visored navigator, and a dig team?" he said to me then as if my requests were unreasonable. What's unreasonable about a dig team? We're archaeologists! How else am I supposed to do my research?

But he would rather throw funding into the school of medical science because it's such a crowd-pleaser. Don't think I don't see exactly why he favours them so much, and how the council enjoys such popularity when the medics are happy. Archaeology is just as important as-

Ami-var saw me writing and interrupted me. He accused me of muttering about our President again.

Who wouldn't! The management of this place is abysmal and absolutely nothing I expected when I first came to this establishment.

"Master Gania-vas got screwed over by him too," Ami-var said to me. "We were getting co-author credit on our new study about the morphological commonalities between Precursor, phocid, and shortwing phalanges. But they just sent us the study back asking us to fix the wording!"

This was news to me. I pressed him on it and he admitted that the council felt it was poor science to include phocids in the study.

"Just because they're a different people," Ami-var said. "So there's no justification for roping them into shortwing science, but have you ever seen a phocid's hand up close?"

"When would I ever have seen that?" I asked, perhaps a touch sardonically.

"Good grief, Qedi-var, would you ever get off your ass and leave the bower once in a while?" Ami-var said, without anger. "It's really lazy of you."

Maybe I like the peace and quiet of the bower when he leaves. And also, he's taking his Spire birth for granted, he grew up around all sorts of people and all I had were shortwings. I'd never seen a phocid until I got here.

He told me that I was missing out on some great fried scaleworm stalls by the docks and that he only mentioned them because food was probably my only motivator. The usual accusations about my weight. We fought over that insult and I won, so he apologised. But that's not important.

Back to the common ancestor myths. It's just a curious aside, really, and I don't find it terribly relevant to my work with Precursor artifacts, but when musing on the origin of intelligent life I suppose we could include the legends of the Spiral people and their belief in a common ancestor for all water-dwelling species. Their mythological figure naturally resembles a water person, not a harpy.

Precursors were obviously harpies, Ami-var insists when I remind him of these tales and their relevance to the mandated exclusion of phocids from his study. I asked the fool how he could justify the selkie-like teeth in his beloved fossils and he told me I was an airbrained idiot wasting my time on resins when I could be looking at some dusty bones. I'm getting tired of fucking him. It's all just deflection with him and no real rigorous counter-argument, and I think his heart isn't in the fights either. It's as if he isn't invested in us as much as I am (cut that part out later).

I've prepared my new memory cylinder for careful restoration but it won't be easy. It's so intact and whole that breaking it would be terrible and I'd have no other recourse than to immediately and promptly kill myself. But I have to get the dirt off somehow. If I can

Journal, much has happened since I spilled ink over the end of the above paragraph in my shock. I was holding the core and something in it started to emit light. Not very much, it was still dirty, but it was clearly no ordinary light. When it shone on the canopy, there were obvious lines.

The landstriders deep within the Bowl practice a form of shadow theatre by gluing their wing feathers into a board, painting it, and cutting designs into the surface so that firelight can shine through. I was reminded of the shadow theatre troupes I'd seen come through the Breaks, the slots cut between the feathers which would glow and cast orange lines onto our faces as the rest of the wing blocked the light.

But before I could scrape off more dirt to reveal the extent of the pattern, the damned thing perished. Here it lies now, innocently dull, on my desk. Perhaps the lack of sleep doesn't agree with me. I sleep with Iuinti-vay-or's stupid face at the forefront of my mind, as he stamps my proposals with denial, and this is hardly conducive to a restful environment. Ami-var will think I'm being unfaithful.

I didn't show Ami-var when he got back. I'll show him when I know what it is. He brought me some of that fried scalefish to atone for calling my thesis an appalling rag and myself a fat tourist, so I suppose we are level again. I suspect, also, that he feels some measure of guilt over forgetting my condition and the difficulties it imposes upon my ability to visit the docks.

My next port of call was to recreate the circumstances that caused that light. I held it every which way you could imagine to no avail until I let the end tip, tired of holding it, and the metal in its southern port contacted the wire tab on my desk. It did not light again, but it did let out a rather anaemic glow which could only be discerned because I'd had the foresight to draw the blackout canopy over my desk. That lasted as long as it took me to draw breath, and then no amount of contact with the wire could bring it back to life.

What I needed was a longwing visor. They are not easily parted with their owners but Ebb-a-vef is more easily bribed than his partner Mia-kef. Ami-var's peace offering did nicely but I wish I'd been able to eat it, it did look really good and I know that locals like Ami-var get higher quality stuff than what I could wrangle from the stalls with my Breaks accent. Ebb was well-pleased with the gift and agreed to part with his visor, the black Signaswun, for the afternoon.

Signaswun is one of the larger visors and certainly too large for me to comfortably operate. I promised I would not harm it. In hindsight I wish I'd lied, I should have opened the back panel to access the cylinders directly. Instead I was very precious with it and it took almost four hours to run my own wire coil into the back panel through the earpiece. Anyone less dextrous than myself would have destroyed both artifacts. And I confess that by the fourth hour I was increasingly in support of their destruction.

But with no help from Ebb or Signaswun I successfully fed the wire through the labyrinth and into the cylinder chamber.

#setting: siren #this is the other end of the travel journal that would eventually start talking about ishmael (writing i've already posted here)#writing tag #i probably would try another way to write this but here's what i have so far and i think it's fun. he's such a drama queen #oooh you want to check out my siren tag soo much oooh

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rockets-lost-archive · 2 days ago

Text

𔓐𑇓 All Too Much. All Too Little. All at once.

(Hold me, Just stay here. Please?)

in which sprout comforts reader through a shutdown. reader is gender neutral and is heavily implied to be on the neurodivergent spectrum, but can be perceived differently.

☄️: This had been sitting in my drafts for a while. I have shutdowns quite often and it's been frustrating me. I'm at least proud to say I've finally finished this. I hope this can bring you, dear reader, some comfort too.

— featuring; sprout x reader

INCLUDES: SFW, hurt w/ comfort, established romantic relationship, poly! moonberrycake, but focuses moreso on sprout.

Sprout had always been observant to those he held close. To Cosmo, to Astro, to you.

He was just observant in general.

He observes, and waits, until the right time to directly address the situation at hand.

Always straightforward. Always blunt.

Maybe even..mean to some few. Not that he means to. He tries, he really, truly does.

But as he watched you leave the room filled with others, noticeably quiet, noticeably different, noticeably upset,—he figured this time he'd try a little harder. A little softer. All if it meant helping you.

Especially now, when you don't even really remember how you got into this situation again. Nor can you really try to.

As much as you wanted to, you just.. can't. Couldnt.

Not right now.

Not when everything you felt would contradict itself one after the other constantly.

—It's too loud, yet too quiet. Too much yet not enough. Too bright, too dark—too much, too much, too much, too much, too—fuck!

You hated it. Hate, hate hate, hate, hated it!

Your entire body and mind felt like it was working against you, just for the sake of working against you!

You wanted to scream!

You wanted to cry.

You wanted to simply curl into a ball.

You wanted to hide, tucked away in the darkest corner of your room.

You wanted to sob loudly while clutching your head, tugging and pulling roughly at the edges just to relieve the constant ache, to just feel relief. To fall back into habits you told yourself you wouldn't do anymore because what else is there?

You wanted so much.

You don't even know how much time has passed, or if any has passed at all.

Were you really even in your room, or were you still the dummy in the corner, simply staring, simple observing, barely even there as toons would interact each other so naturally.

It hurt.

You wanted everything and nothing, you wanted—

A hand.

..A hand—?

A hand pulls you from your thoughts.

Its light, yet firm. Just enough to ground you without being overbearing.

Your vision is blurry. From tears, you had no idea, (were you even crying?)

Regardless, your eyes tried to focus on the hand clasped in yours. Not needing to look up to know who it was. Not really.

You wanted to say something. Anything. You needed to. Yet as your tongue remained heavy, and body remained still, you're left with the crumbling realization you couldn't.

You couldn't really see the expression he wore, too focused on the dread you felt at even being seen, but you remain anyway, trying to steady your breathing.

He squeezed your palm. His voice quiet. The most quiet you've heard of the berry, really.

"... okay... okay,—Okay, Is this alright? Can I touch you?"

His fingers moved to tread your palm, a bit firmer this time as your sluggish mind barely kept up, but nodded anyways.

He seemed to be relieved by that, lifting both of your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles in response.

"okay—you're doing great, okay? Can you talk?"

You shake your head immediately at the question, seeming to wilt further into yourself. It's subtle, but it's there.

He softens at this, then nods. Lowering both of your hands once more, moving to press his thumb onto your palm.

To see you in such a state hurt him.

He wanted to help, even if clumsily, even if he didn't even know how to handle emotions himself, Just as long as you know he's there.

"okay. okay, thank you, honey. That's okay, you're doing okay, you're doing good, you're doing so, so good."

He pressed his palm onto yours again, moving to interlace his fingers with yours instead. Each of his fingers pressing firmly onto each of yours. The pressure felt grounding. Nice.

You took another shaky breath. He mirrored it with his own, much louder as if to ease you back in. Guiding you, like he has many times before.

"we're already halfway there," he cooed softly, from where he sat in front of you, you could feel the heat radiating off him, realizing how cold you really were. You dared to look up. It was scary, but you did so anyway.

His face was filled with the same adoring look he always sent you. Loving. Unguarded. Something he only ever showed to you and the other two.

You felt undeserving of it.

Yet as your grip falters, and your thoughts drift, his voice brings you back.

"... it's going to be okay," another squeeze, and you could feel your tears well up again, blinking them away, "I know it doesn't feel that way right now, I know it feels stupid, but we've gone through this before, and we'll go through it again, okay? So breathe."

You nodded, trembling. Though you didn't get as much as a single breath before tears come rushing again and you're left clamping your mouth shut, stubbornly silencing yourself as if to save you any further humiliation.

It doesn't work.

You were already here.

Your hands clenched against his own, surprising him as you fell into him entirely, collapsing. Burying your face into his scarf, shaking with every stubborn breath you refused to let go.

But Sprout wouldn't have that.

Not as he wrapped his arms around you firmly. Not as he returned the tight grip you had on him, knowing you well enough to know the pressure would help you.

Not as he mumbled soft words and sweet nothings like he has countless times before.

"It's okay, you're going to be okay, please cry, be as loud as you want I promise, it's just us. Doors locked, everyone's still at the party, I promise. "

So you did. It was quiet, at first. Nothing but your shaky breathing filling the room before you eventually broke, sobbing loudly against him, gripping so tightly you were afraid he'd let go.

He didn't.

"It's okay. I'm here. Im right here sweetie—I'm here. "

"I'm sorry—" you hiccuped, struggling to breathe, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry."

His chest ached at your apologies. His hand rubbing your back in soft, circular motions for every broken sob that would leave your body.

He knew by now it's an old habit you still have trouble letting go of. Especially given your former 'handler' . He doesn't blame you for it, but he's sure as hell determined to convince you otherwise.

"You absolutely have nothing to apologize for, okay?" He murmured softly, moving to pull away briefly. His hands move to cup both of your cheeks, thumb gently wiping away stray tears.

You trembled under his hold, refusing to meet his eyes. You can't. You couldn't.

"I wish it felt that way." You whispered. Voice so quiet he nearly didn't pick it up, if not for how close he was to you. "I shouldn't—" Your fists clenched, digging your nails into your palm, "I shouldn't be like this. I should be better."

You were frustrated at yourself. He could tell. He knew. He knew that look. The same look you'd give yourself every time you'd make so much as a small mistake or when you began spiralling onto old habits.

"I hate it. I hate it so much, Sprout." You mumbled, shutting your eyes tight, leaning away to hold yourself, wanting for anything to make this feeling stop.

The room was silent for a while.

Part of you feared Sprout had just enough of you, when,-

"This isn't your fault." He said, firm yet gentle in the way his voice cut through the thick silence.

Slowly, he leaned closer, far enough to give you the chance to pull away, yet close enough to reach you. His palm rested onto your arm.

"—It never has been. Okay? It never will be."

Though you were hesitant, you tilted your head to look at him.

By now your hair was far too messy to be presentable, and face too worn to be pleasing...Yet..He smiled.

He smiled at you.

How could he smile at you when you were like this?

Your lips contorted into a wobbly frown, shaking your head. Slowly, your hand moved to rest on his shoulder, pulling yourself closer, if only subtly.

"... 'm sorry." you croaked out, gripping his shoulder a bit tighter. His other hand moved to rub your back, a silent nod to continue. "I.. I don't know why this happened again. I didn't want it to, I promise."

He softened, moving to hold you properly, his arms wrapping around your torso as he pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head. "Do you want to talk about it?" His voice was softer. Quiet. It was a welcome change compared to the loud chatter outside. Now muffled as the doors were comfortably locked.

There was silence for a while. Not that Sprput minded. He'd patiently wait for you any time, that he was sure of.

Eventually though, you do answer.

Your voice was quiet, at first. Unsure, yet honest. Maybe foolishly so, but what else was there to hide, at this point?

A soft sigh escapes you as you burrow your face into his scarf, finding comfort in the familiar scent.

".. I..I dont know.". You mumbled softly, eyes falling shut. You were so tired.

"Everything was just....So loud. And the lights were so bright. Too bright— I hated it." You mumbled quietly. ".. It's like, " you paused, mulling over the words, ".. It's like everything hitting me, all at once. All at the same time. And it feels bad... it's just..so..." You trailed off quietly, before letting the thought go,

"—Sorry." you breathed out, hands feeling clammy as you buried your face further into his scarf, voice muffled, " Sorry I'm, uhm—I'm rambling."

"No, no—" he pulled back, placing your hands on top of his, "By all means, I'm glad you're rambling...You're being open." He spoke softly, his thumb rubbing your palm in slow circular motions. ".. That's a step forward, right?"

You blinked at him, a bit taken aback by the response.

Huh.

That... That was much more positive than what your brain had been conjuring up over the past few months, that's for sure.

You stared at him, your throat felt dry.

"... You,.." you trailed off, hesitating near the end, ".. You're not mad?"

"I—what?" His eyes widens at the question as if you had told him the sky was brown of all things before swiftly recovering, squeezing both of the hands that were clasped in his, voice so resolute it left no room for doubt,

"No- what? Of course not. Worried, sure. But mad?"

He shook his head, moving to press his forehead against yours, sighing softly.

"Of course not. None of us are."

His hands rubbed soft circles onto your palm,

"We just want you to be okay. We love you. I love you. And this—?" He motioned his hands dismissively, " This doesnt change that. Especially, because, it's out of your control."

A small smile forms on your lips at this, feeling warmth spread through your face, chuckling quietly. You feel tears prick your vision, almost wanting to pull away out of embarrassment if it wasn't for Sprout's iron grip on you.

He smiled back, softly rubbing the tears away with his thumb. "I love you." He repeated.

"I love you. All of you." He mumbled softly, moving to press a kiss to your wet cheek, making you yelp as you giggled. He grinned at the sight.

You settled down quickly, your fits of giggles dying out before shaking your head, feeling flustered, yet.. better. So much better.

There was a lull of silence for a while, yet it was comfortable, with you two simply holding each other, and enjoying each other's warmth.

You'd smile as he'd traced silly random patterns onto your skin, every now and then he'd press a kiss onto them, whether they were scarred or not.

".. I don't deserve you." You spoke after a while, making him scoff, pulling away as he gave you a look of mock offense.

"Please." He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. "Don't be stubborn with me, Because I'm telling you now, you won't win. Ask Cosmo."

* Don't ask Cosmo. Oh boy don't get him started.

You laughed, quiet yet warm. He smiled at the sound, feeling relieved at how you seemingly were returning to normal. Slowly, yet surely.

"You deserve everything and more," he spoke your name lovingly, making you smile like a lovesick idiot, "Don't let anyone convince you otherwise, yeah?" Kiss. He pressed another kiss to your other cheek, earning a bashful grin from you as you halfheartedly shoved him away.

"Pft, going soft on me now, Sprout? What's next, you'll let me whip somethin' up in the kitchen?" You grinned, wrapping your arms around the sides of his face.

He leaned his face closer, cupping the hand that held his cheek, narrowing his eyes pointedly,

"Oh you wish. You are not stepping foot near my stove after your last little cooking-fiasco with Gigi and Finn. Leave the dreaming to Astro, okay?"

You cackled, letting yourself laugh louder this time as your forehead bumped into his, giggling. A silly smile rested on your lips, eyes landing onto his, "You're such a dork."

A snicker bubbles from his throat at the remark, voice dropping to a whisper as you two grew closer, "Says you."

You grinned, moving to close the gap between you two, sighing softly as you relaxed into the kiss, lips pressing softly against his before pulling away. His gaze was soft, as he looked at you, "I love you."

And, without missing a beat,

"I love you too."

—The other two are relieved to find the both of you later, asleep and safe in each other's arms.

Your dreams are filled with comfort.

#dandys world x reader #sprout seedly x reader #sprout x reader #moonberrycake x reader #dw sprout #dw sprout seedly #dw x reader #astro novalite x reader #dandys world cosmo x reader #dandy’s world cosmo x reader #dandy's world x reader

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lostsyren · 1 day ago

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ʚଓ⋆ mariposa

{summary: after rafe told her to marry him and quit her job sofia is left unsteady from the break up. she finds work at a strip club to make ends meet. on the other side of the island, rafe is feeling similarly unmoored…so he takes a trip with barry to blow off some steam…}

{a/n: sorry for being inactive! busy with uni work! but i had this in the drafts and finally decided to finish it! i mostly avoided writing it because it made me upset, but the idea wouldn’t leave so hereeee, it’s long, be warned!}

{warnings: sex work, disassociation, misogynistic language, lots of angst}

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ✦

He got his money back. With interest. More than half a mil securely transferred into his account. But coming back home to Kildare wasn’t like he imagined.

In the back of his mind Rafe had slotted away ideas for honeymoon destinations, bridal shops on the island, the name of her family church. But now all that information was useless, and he tried to slowly part ways with it.

Part ways with the memory of Sofia too.

She’d listened to him. Of course she did. Every single piece of her was effaced from the house: the hair ties she’d leave around on the counters, her toothbrush in the bathroom, the book she kept at his on the nightstand. It’s like she scrubbed extra carefully making sure there was zero trace of her left in his life.

But when he saw the pile of neatly folded T-shirts in his drawers– T-shirts he’d given to her, Rafe swore he felt his heart lurch into his throat. That gut wrenching, sick feeling only proliferated when he spotted the glint of his mother’s diamond ring on the living room table. Fuck Sofia for making him feel like that. For making him feel bad. He can just imagine her now– her big puppy eyes on the other end of the phone line, watery and so god damn wounded, as if she was some tormented saint.

He hoped he’d see her at the bar. The reason? He couldn’t say. Maybe so he could see her wallow in her choice to betray him. Or maybe it was to talk– ask her why the fuck did she do that– why the fuck did she ruin it? He was doing so well, he was so good.

But of course she listened to him. Yet again. She always listened. Nodding her head like a good little girl.

Yes baby? Sure thing Rafe! Okay babe…

He remembered with a bitter, guilty twang what he said to her when he was down on one knee.

Quit your job…

And she went ahead and fucking did that didn’t she? Serves her right. Whatever money Groff and Hollis gave her must’ve been enough to tide her over. That what he told himself at least, to subdue the guilt.

Rafe sniffed a sharp inhale of air, throwing his drink back with a cold disregard. It was too bitter– the new bartender was shit. Rolling his shoulders, Rafe strained to shut off his eddying thoughts. He didn’t have time to worry about her. He had other things to deal with.

First order of business: pay Barry back for his boat.

Rafe left the country club, heading over to Barry’s place down by the docks. It was nearing sunset and by the time he reached the house, the sky was streaked with lines of orange and pink.

Barry was already sitting on the porch, smoking a blunt, lazy smirk on his face when he saw Rafe pull up in his Mercedes.

“You better be here to reimburse me for my shit bro.” Barry called out when Rafe exited the car.

“Don’t worry Barry, I get paid you get paid– just like old times amiright?”

Barry let out a low chuckle, opening the front door to let Rafe in, “except I never did get paid all that often huh?”

They ended up on the kitchen counter (much more spacious than the dingy kitchenette at the trailer park) sipping at beers Barry pulled from the refrigerator.

“So, you back for good now? No more crashin’ boats on distant shorelines typa shit anymore?”

Rafe nodded with a wry smile. “Yeah…back for good.”

“Your girl must be happy you’re home, huh?”

Rafe’s smile faltered and brows furrowed, like two deep notches on his forehead. Barry picked up quickly on his tangential plummet into anger. Or annoyance. Rafe swung between the two quickly.

“She not your girl anymore or is she not happy you’re back?”Barry needled.

Rafe’s eyes darted downward, his nostrils flaring slightly. Barry never did know when to lay off.

“What did you do country club?”

“What?” Rafe hissed, finally snapping at his provocation, “what did I do? Why do you assume it was my fault?”

Barry was unfazed at his sudden slip into anger, like he’d seen worse. He just chucked coolly, taking another languid sip, “‘cause it usually is dawg.”

Rafe’s blue eyes burned with a flash of hot emotion. Why did everyone think everything was on him? He’d treated her so fucking well and here Barry was looking at him as if he’d thrown her out on to the street. “Yeah well it wasn’t my fault. It was hers. She fucked up. Not me.”

“What did she do? Cheat on you with that frosted tips guy? Y’know– Table topper or whatever?”

Rafe scrunched his nose at the image, “hell no. She sold me out. Fuckin’ pogue mentality isn’t it.”

He didn’t even know what he was saying at this point. He just knew that it hurt her whenever he’d say that. Pogue. Injected with such venom. She couldn’t hear him, but blaming her shut down the question that endured in his mind all across Morocco and Lisbon. That bounced around the spongy walls of his brain.

What did he do to make her betray him?

That’s the thing about saints– they never act without a just cause.

Rafe didn’t bother looking at Barry for reassurance. He could never glean that out of him. He heard his ex drug dealer scoff under his breath, the glass lip of the bottle hitting his golden tooth as he took another swig.

“Yeah well this pogue right here sold you out too– now you’re sittin’ n drinkin’ with him.”

Rafe’s nose twitched. He hadn’t made that connection in his mind.

“Yeah well I knew you were a piece of shit. She– ” Rafe had to pause, levelling his breath as his chest constricted, “she wasn’t.”

A silence settled. A nausea tossed about the pit of his stomach.

Barry intervened with a harsh slap against the counter, “okay well I know just the thing to get you out of this weird ass funk, country club.”

Rafe flickered his red rimmed eyes up to meet Barry’s. “You do? And don’t say dope.”

Barry laughed, licking his lips, “good one. Nah not this time. The only remedy for a breakup is some more pussy.”

Rafe shook his head almost immediately, “what the fuck bro?”

“Just chill a’ight? There’s this strip club that opened couple months ago the next island over– we should go. Maybe it’ll get your mind off of things.”

“What? Like right now?”

“Yeah why not? I’m down.”

Half an hour later, after Barry poured some liquor down Rafe’s throat to make him more amenable to the idea, they were driving down the OBX bypass, on route to Island Paradiso.

***

It was just meant to be a bartending stint. Just so she could get back on her feet again.

She’d tried to get her old job back at the country club, about to get on her knees and beg her manager. But it was too late.

The position had been filled…tough luck kid.

Four years she’d slaved away making margaritas and wiping down countertops, all with a pretty smile on her face, and it was gone. Just like that.

All because of Rafe Cameron.

Sofia shook away the memory of him as if it was detachable, like he was just simply velcroed to inside of her brain and all she needed to do was shake her head and tense her jaw and he would come tumbling out of her skull.

She was good at hiding from things. She was good at ignoring the glaringly obvious pitfalls of her life. But with that man, he insisted himself onto her subconscious. He was inside of her, reminding her of how stupid she’d been. She can’t even blame him– she saw this coming a mile away. She just didn’t want to believe it. So she hid like she always did, nestling comfortably in the Egyptian cotton sheets of his bed, swaddled in the cushiony notion that they loved each other and that was all that mattered.

“Sofia wake the fuck up!” A voice on her left suddenly called out.

She snapped out of her lapsing thoughts (she’d found herself floating in a dissociative haze more and more often these days) and looked down to see the drink begin to overflow onto the bar.

“Shit shit shit I’m sorry,” she began, scampering to clean up her mess.

“That’s coming out of your cut okay?”

Sofia just nodded, her stomach twisting with a sharp tug. She needed that money.

When she was with Rafe, he’d always needle her about her job.

You can always quit you know…I already pay for all your shit, you don’t need it…baby just stay at home with me, yeah…

It’s like he didn’t even consider that she was responsible for other people. The money wasn’t for her nails and hair and whatever other things Rafe ‘took care of’ for her. She had her family, her siblings, her parents. They relied on her.

It was clear to her Rafe never had anyone rely on him. She could tell by the way he acted. Even though he forced himself to be needed (throwing his money everywhere, cornering people into a pseudo dependency), Sofia could sense the childishness of his whims. It was like when she’d gotten $50 dollars for her Quinceañera and went out with her siblings and cousins to the store and made everyone buy some candy, because it was on her. Rafe forced everyone to buy candy just so he had someone to eat his with.

Sofia knew all this yet she still went ahead and quit her job, turning this pseudo dependency into a full blown reliance. And what did Rafe Cameron do as soon as there was someone who truly relied on him? He kicked her out, when she didn’t play the way he wanted to play.

But again, Sofia couldn’t blame him. It was her fault for hurting him. Her stomach writhed again at the memory of her duplicity. Worst thing was, she hadn’t even touched the 25k Hollis gave her. It just sat in the shoebox under her bed gathering dust at the heed of her guilt.

Instead she picked up a job at a club, next island over. There was nothing for her in Kildare. With all the rezoning laws and the steady trickle of Figure 8 moolah finding its way into the Cut, more businesses were shutting down, replaced with scaffolding and TO LET signs.

Thankfully a friend of hers knew of a bartending gig, less than an hours drive away down the highway.

And that’s how she ended up here. Under the neon lights of a very different type of club.

At first, that’s all it was. Make the drinks and serve the customers. But the tips were nothing compared to the country club. Why tip the bartender when you could pay for a lap dance?

And when the bills at home started piling up, her parents questioning if her manger had docked her wages (she still hadn’t told them she’d quit, let alone how she was engaged for a freak second), that’s when she’d looked over to the main stage, littered in a blanket of Benjamins and swallowed her pride.

“Sofia you’re up in a bit,” called her manager, Hayes.

She nodded with a smile, still cleaning up the sticky surface of the counter top. Hayes was a nice man– mid forties, tall and burly with long brown hair that he slicked back and a scruffy beard. He spoke with a thick, southern twang and could be found smoking a cigar in the room overlooking the club.

“Okay boss.”

Sofia headed back to where the girls were. She hadn’t made much friends. No one liked it when there was new blood– it meant there was less for them. So Sofia just stayed in her lane, not biting when they threw her a bone to chew at and eventually she became just another dancer trying to make her way.

And besides, it’s not like she was replacing them. Sofia could just about walk in her heels, and she avoided anything too risqué. She’d told Hayes about her qualms and he’d listened.

She only danced three days a week. The rest were solely bartending. She got to keep her clothes on (which wasn’t much to begin with) and she could decline the private dances if she wanted to. Hayes would always vet the guys who’d be interested in her. Sofia didn’t know if he was just humouring her, but that little thumbs up he’d do made her heart beat a bit more evenly, especially when she’d be grinding up against the patrons.

“You know what songs you’re dancing to tonight?” Sofia looked behind her in the mirror as she was applying her makeup to see one of the girls hover by her shoulder.

“I gave the DJ the list you wrote me,” she resumed her eyeliner.

She eventually made a singular friend. Her name was Mina and she was a regular. Mina was all warm skin and tough love. She was only a couple years older than Sofia, but Sofia often forgot that fact when she’d lived so much life in comparison to her. She was the one who helped her get to grips with it all: makeup, clothing, name.

“You gotta have a stripper name baby!”

She’d said, starring at a newbie Sofia, whilst taking a drag from her cigarette.

She told her to lean into being Latina– Sofia needed a niche. Something these men could remember her by. If she wasn’t going to show her tits or pussy then she needed to distract them with something else.

So Sofia settled on Mariposa…Spanish for butterfly. It was cute. Sweet. Pretty. That paired with the sultry reggaeton music Mina suggested she go with, the flashy gold jewellery and the hot pink and red sets, the cash came quick, patrons slipping bills down the waistband of her pants and dip of her bralette.

Sofia was used to the routine of things now. She felt more confident on stage. She couldn’t do any of the more skilled moves the other girls excelled at, but she could dance half decently. And besides, the money she scraped from bartending covered what she wasn’t making.

She tried not to think too hard about what she was doing. The minutes when she was on stage it felt like a pink, glitzy mist settled over her– the glitter on her eyes and the lowlights on the floor tugging her into a dissociative state. It was just her and the music. The faces in the crowd blurred and she focused on the feel of the paper tickling her skin rather than the brush of beer stained fingers. No one groped or mauled– Hayes was a scary man with a gun. Sofia sometimes saw it peek from his waistband whenever he’d stretch.

She just let her thoughts dissolve into jelly and felt herself float from her body, detached.

At least for the moment.

The guilt hit her when she’d be asleep in her bed, that ineradicable Catholic upbringing making her skin feel dirty and heart throb in her chest. That’s when she’d bring her hands together and look up to God, begging him to understand, pleading for him to see her point of view. No one else seemed to.

But right now, she focused on her reflection in the mirror, trying to ignore the dark bags under her eyes from the late hours and shoddy sleep.

Sofia reached for the concealer.

***

Rafe entered the club following Barry’s lead, the sound of bass and smell of alcohol hitting him instantly.

His eyes roamed around the room. The dull glow of pinks and purples and reds shrouding everyone’s faces in a thick shadow.

Rafe had never been to a strip club before. He’d lied about it for sure– his fraught year at college making him real good at coming up with shit. But the idea of paying to see a woman flash her tits at you was stupid to him, as if porn didn’t exist.

But maybe Barry was right. He’d held Sofia in such high regard and look where that got him. Miserable and depressed, flushing money on overpriced shots at a strip bar. He needed to distract himself– make the image of her leave his brain, because no matter how drunk or dazed he got, all he could see was her face when he closed his eyes.

“You feelin’ better yet?” Barry chucked leaning against the bar beside him. He watched as Rafe’s gaze roamed the club, straying when it reached the dancer on the stage, her body wrapped around the pole.

“No,” he grumbled, throwing back another shot, quickly growing bored.

“You don’t need to stick by me y’know? Go get a lap dance or some shit or a closer look at least.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I’m a cheap bastard who likes to watch and not tip.”

Rafe just rolled his eyes at that.

The song finished, the dancer collecting her cash before leaving. Rafe took the chance to order another round of drinks.

“And now on stage, the gorgeous Mariposa!” The low warbled announcement from the DJ was followed by another song.

Rafe took a seat beside Barry, just as his drink arrived, before turning to look on stage, maybe ten metres away from the bar.

The next dancer walked on and Rafe felt his heart drop into his stomach, his chest suddenly rising and falling as he strained to prove himself wrong against the lurid stage lights.

But the closer she got, walking down the stretching runway of a stage, it was undeniably her. Each freckle and mole and that birthmark on her lower back visible, her skin bare and lucent for everyone to see.

Shock turned to anger, like a spark to gunpowder.

He suddenly jumped out of his seat and turned towards Barry, his hands clutching at his shirt, nearly dragging him off the barstool.

“You knew– that’s why you fucking brought me here didn’t you?” He snarled, eyes dilated and mouth curled.

“What the fuck man! I don’t know what you’re sayin’” Barry pushed back, trying to make sense of Rafe’s outburst.

“Then why is she here huh? Why did you bring me here? To show me this shit? To make me look stupid?”

“Who’s here? You’re not makin’ any sense man– just calm down a’ight.” Barry took a more consoling tone, on seeing Rafe’s downturned lips, and glassy eyes. He wasn’t just angry…he was upset.

Rafe let him go, gesturing toward the stage, his head bowed fists dropped at his side.

“You’re telling me you didn’t know?” He murmured quietly, blue eyes wild and darting, looking at the shiny floors of the strip club.

It took Barry a while to recognise Sofia but when he did, he realised he’d messed up big time bringing Rafe all the way here.

“Shiiit man– I didn’t. She must be new.”

Rafe recoiled at that, his face screwing up, threatening tears. He could put two and two together and figure out what the fuck someone like her was doing in a place like this. Why she wasn’t at the country club anymore. Why he’d never seen her around on Kildare. She’d listened to him. She always fucking listened.

For the first time since Morocco, the possibility that Groff was the one who lied suddenly occurred to Rafe. If she’d gotten paid, if Sofia was actually a part of their schemes like he’d said, why was she debasing herself for money?

Rafe suddenly felt a deep and ringing shame, as if he’d just realised who she was. A pogue. No different to Barry.

And he’d just thrown her out with nothing.

No. No. She betrayed him. She hurt him. That was the truth. That’s all that mattered.

Then why did he feel like such a piece of shit?

Rafe turned around slowly to look at the stage bringing his gaze up to her.

She moved with a quiet grace, her skin glittery and bronzed. She looked like the models on the porno mags he’d secretly look at when he was a kid– shiny wet skin, scanty pieces of fabric that dug into pliant flesh, limbs that stretched and twisted. He felt his pants tighten, and stomach churn– getting hard and feeling sick.

His brows furrowed and twitched and his mouth did the same. He waited for her to take notice of him. But all her attention was on the men surrounding the stage.

Sofia dropped low on her hands and knees. She arched her back slowly and smoothly, crawling down the platform. She lingered so they could stuff her bra and underwear with dollar bills while she smiled prettily at them with thick eyelashes. Rafe simultaneously burned with a viscid desire that pooled in his stomach and a raging envy that bored a hole inside him.

He began to near the stage, but felt a hand yank at his arm.

“What are you doing bro?” Barry said, coming round so he was facing Rafe.

“Get off me,” he pushed his grip away, resolute in heading to the stage.

But Barry persisted, “what do you think you’re gonna do huh? If you mess with the girls you’re gonna get your ass beat.”

Rafe just clenched his jaw, “what? They’re not gonna let me tip her?” His voice was low and thick with a sarcastic drawl.

Barry eyed him for a moment, his hand still on his arm, “I think we should go Rafe, let me take you home.”

Rafe simply let out a short, sharp laugh, “didn’t you say get a closer look? I’m just listening to your advice Barry.”

And with that, he shoved him out the way, making a beeline to the stage.

***

When Sofia was up there she let her thoughts switch off, settling into her role. She was good at that– pretending. She would do it at her old job, acting the part of the smiley waitress or the diffident bartender. She’d mould her face into the expressions they’d want to see: chirpy grin, bright eyes, patient brows.

This was no different. It was just another role, where she moulded herself into what others wanted to see.

And right now they were all here for her tits and ass, so she sank down on her hands and knees, slinking across the dollar strewn stage, and gave them it.

Sofia tried not to look too hard at the faces. Sometimes she’d become injected with paranoia. That maybe one of dad’s work buddies would be there, or one of her old customers. And they’d see her. Desperate and lost, scraping the floors for cash.

Where was her kook boyfriend now huh? Had he grown tired of her? Serves her right for turning her back on her own people.

Just take their money and go. That’s what she told herself. She can spiral into a mess of self loathing and regret later on, when she’d paid off this month’s electric bill.

Sofia moved in time with the music, passing people with cash ready in their hands. She sank down low to receive it, before moving on to the next.

She felt the next hand before she met his gaze. The touch of a metal ring against her skin, the tickle of paper slotting into lace straps.

Sofia smiled sultrily, her lips caught between her teeth as she looked over at the next patron. She was good at maintaining her demeanour, clinging to that act she put on.

But the veneer faltered, her smile fading and eyes widening as if she was prey and she’d just been caught. In who’s cutting jaw? Rafe Cameron and his razor-sharp bite.

At first she blinked, begging for it not to be him. Maybe it was the lights. Maybe it was just somebody who looked like him. But the longer she stared, the deeper her stomach sank.

He’d just wedged a wad of cash in the waistband of her pants, his face stony and unreadable. But in the brilliance of the strip club lights, Sofia swore she saw his eyes gleam with unshed tears.

It must’ve only been a couple seconds, but it felt interminable to her– her arms wobbling with her weight as she buckled from the shock. Thankfully the song was coming to an end, so she stood up, suddenly too aware and too embarrassed to do the final flourishes of her dance. She instead just grabbed the cash on the floor and headed off stage, pulling out the dollars shoved in between her costume.

Her entire body was on fire, the room suddenly too hot and the air too thick. She needed to get out of here. She needed to breathe. She needed to calm down.

“Just gonna pretend like I don’t exist then huh?” A voice called out from behind her. Sofia’s heart grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment, her chest constricting and snarling up.

She could just carry on walking. Not look back. Ignore him. Isn’t that what he wanted? Her out of his life? They were done weren’t they? So why was he rubbing in it? Couldn’t he just leave?

She felt hot stinging tears prickle in her waterline that she willed away. She didn’t want to look even more stupid than she already did.

Sofia stopped and turned around slowly, the cash still in her hands. She faced him, struggling to keep a straight face let alone speak. Everything in her just wanted to cry. Seeing his face made it worse. He looked so damn pitying.

“Why did you do it?” He asked, voice almost strangulated. His face looked angry but his eyes betrayed him– he seemed almost ashamed. Which was funny, seeing as Sofia prickled with a similar shame.

She just shook her head, her curled hair, swept over to one side, tumbling down and curtaining her face. But Rafe didn’t accept her concession that easily.

“No– I deserve an answer. You played me didn’t you? You and Hollis and Groff?”

Sofia’s vision blurred, the tears beginning to flood and blear, “yes but I tried to take it back! I tried–You just didn’t listen.”

“Why are you here? What are you doing Sofia?” His voice broke at her name, coming out in a choked rasp. “You fuckin’ played me for money didn’t you? Then why are you out here whoring yourself out?”

His words felt like a punch to the gut, her palms slick with sweat now, sticking to the paper in her hands. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t thought herself. Whore. Slut. Skank. Was he actually looking for an answer? Or was he here to hurt her again. Just like she hurt him.

Sofia realised she’d had enough of trying to decipher Rafe Cameron.

“You got it all figured out don’t you Rafe?” She decided she didn’t want to be apologetic anymore. So she nosedived straight into angry and bitter.

He mirrored it perfectly. “Tell me then, tell me what I’m missing?”

Sofia shook her head with a bitter scoff. “Thanks for the tip,” she muttered, before turning on her heel and heading for the dressing room.

“No you can’t just do that. I deserve some explanation–“ Rafe surged forward, grabbing her arm and yanking her towards him.

His grip wasn’t rough or harsh but it was enough for Sofia to trip and stumble over her heels, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Her money slipped from her hands, littering the space around her as she winced from the pain.

That’s when the commotion started.

“Hey what the fuck do you think you’re doing bud.” Sofia heard Hayes’ voice call out. She looked up to see Rafe crouch half down, as if he was offering to help her up. She recognised his friend, Barry, behind him surveying the scene, eyeing Hayes who came storming down the club floor.

“Just go Rafe, for your own sake,” her eyes softened for a moment.

“Step back now, or I’ll fuckin’ make you.” Hayes called out, pushing past Barry.

Barry put himself between Hayes and Rafe, the latter one now crouched down beside Sofia. And all she wanted was for the floor to give way and swallow her whole.

Barry yanked Rafe up by his collar. “We were just leavin’– weren’t we?”

“I was just helping her up, chill okay?”

Sofia needed to get up off her ass and away from this situation, suddenly feeling way too exposed, the image of her half naked on the strip floor vinyl, surrounded by crumpled dollar bills and three grown men dawning on her. Her stomach rolled with heavy waves of shame that hurt.

“You okay sweetheart?” Hayes asked from above.

Sofia nodded, not making eye contact and bringing herself to her feet.

“Sofia– fuck, tell him you know me. We were just talking.”

“I don’t care buddy, you leave now or I’ll have you thrown out.” Hayes’ face was stern and scary as he met Rafe’s eye line.

Sofia shrank in on her body, trying to make herself invisible. She felt Rafe’s burning gaze on her, as if he was forcing her to look at him. Usually she’d fold, giving into his stare. But this time she persisted and left, disappearing past the doors heading to the dressing room. Let them sort it out– she didn’t need to embarrass herself anymore than she’d already done.

As soon as the double doors to swung shut, and she’d safely deposited her cash in her bag, Sofia broke down in her mess of tears and wracking sobs that had been begging to surface the moment she spotted Rafe on the club floor.

She tried to avoid her reflection in the mirror and instead sank down onto the floor, grateful for the cool feel of the plasticky tiles wash over her naked, burning skin.

***

Rafe paced the parking lot, biting at his thumb. He’d spotted Sofia’s car and now was just waiting for her to come out.

“Get in the truck Rafe, I’m not playin’ with you.” Barry said, leaning against the hood of his truck.

“Just go, you don’t need to wait up.”

“Don’t you think you said plenty? She got the idea.”

Rafe shook his head vigorously, his nose scrunching up. Why was Barry being so sympathetic towards her? Why was he treating Rafe as if he was some abusive piece of shit who’d treated her horribly. “What do you think I’m gonna do to her?”

Barry chucked, the sound dark and sardonic, “ain’t you jus’ gonna rub her face in it a bit more? Remind her of her fuck ups? Just leave her alone man. I think you’ve hurt her enough.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes, stopping in his tracks, “what do you know about Sofia? What do you know about us? Huh?”

“I just know what I saw back in there. You make up these big shiny promises and never make good on them– and that’s what you probably did to that girl. That’s why she’s here at some low rent strip club tryna make ends meet. So the least you can do is give her the decency of pretendin’ like you didn’t see shit.”

Rafe’s mouth twisted in a scowl. Barry was meant to be on his side.

“You’re acting as if it’s my fault she’s here. She could’ve come to me– talked to me and fixed all this shit! But nah– she decided that this was the better option instead of having a single conversation with me.” He gestured wildly at the club behind him, the neon header flickering and spluttering in the brisk night.

Barry scoffed, the usual humorous glint in his eyes snuffed out, turning them coal like and hard. “Would you have listened though, dawg?”

Rafe was silent at that unable to give him an answer.

Barry plowed on, “I think you forget not everyone’s from Figure 8. She ain’t like your country club chicks.”

Rafe laughed but the sound was hollow, “think I’ve heard this all before man. Just cause you’d do anything for money doesn’t mean every pogue on the cut will.”

Barry’s lips thinned and Rafe knew he’d taken it too far, “maybe if your head wasn’t shoved so far up your own ass you’d understand why people do what they do. You’re actin’ all high and mighty– does she know about all the shit you’ve done?”

The air between thing changed. This is the first time Barry had brought it up and Rafe felt that familiar mix of anger and nausea froth up again. Barry knew to strike where it hurt.

A small smirk played upon his friend’s lips. “God forbid she whores herself out– but you’re good to kill people huh?”

Rafe tensed his jaw, face contorting with muted rage, it took everything in him not to stride forward and wrap his hands around his throat. “Fuck you.”

“Get in the truck.”

At that moment, Barry’s gaze disappeared behind Rafe’s head, only for a second, but it was enough time for Rafe to notice and spin around.

And there she was.

Sofia was heading to her car, wrapped up in her coat, bag hoisted high on her shoulder.

“Rafe, just leave her,” Barry warned.

“I know you think I’m just some asshole, but I care about her okay? I care about you too. I’m not– I’m not just some jerk. I just want to talk to her alright?”

He waited a moment, for Barry to give some sort of flicker of approval. But his dark eyes and sharp jaw remained set in place. Rafe scoffed, shaking his head. Approval from Barry was like drawing blood from a stone. But he still always found himself clawing for it.

Rafe’s tone quickly devolved into disdain when he realised Barry was as bloodless as ever, “fine– don’t believe me.” He ground his teeth, before turning around towards Sofia.

***

Hayes let her go home early, after Mina had found her curled up in a ball in the dressing room. She’d peeled off her costume, changing into her sweats and T-shirt, before grabbing all her things and leaving.

She let herself find comfort in the soft fabric of her clothes as she left the club, cold wind sluicing her face. She didn’t have to suck in her stomach or arch her back anymore. She could just slouch and cower from the rest of the world.

“Sofia! Wait!” A voice called out from her left. She turned to see Rafe approach her, hand outstretched and face hopeful.

He’d been waiting out here all this time? Sofia prickled with unease, her body tensing up on hearing his voice.

“What do you want Rafe?” She managed to rasp out, voice sore from all the crying.

“Please just hear me out okay?”

Sofia knew she should just get in her car and begin the drive home. But there was still a part of her that resounded with a dull regret at the way things ended. If he had things to say, well then so did she.

Sofia stilled in her tracks and waited for him to catch up to her. In the distance she could see Barry watch the pair, arms folded, expression indecipherable in the dark. Sofia didn’t know why, but his quiet presence calmed her fluctuating breath. He’d always been sweet to her, even when he didn’t need to, and funnily enough, she felt safer than if he wasn’t there.

“You good? I didn’t mean to trip you up.” Rafe began, semi breathless. He gave her a once over. Sofia must’ve looked terrible. She could feel her mascara clump in her waterline– there had to be streaks of black running down her cheeks, her foundation caking up and smearing. An acrid insecurity suddenly washed over her.

“I’m fine.” Her words were meant to come out as callous. Assertive. But instead, all she managed to muster was a hoarse squeak.

“Good, good,” he ran a hand over the back of neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he struggled to speak, “was that your boss? Back in there?”

She nodded.

“He didn’t get mad at you did he?”

Sofia sniffed, nose still runny from her crying fit moments earlier, “no, Hayes is good, he takes care of us.”

That seemed to upset Rafe, Sofia noting how his eyebrows furrowed and mouth warped into a frown.

“How long have you been– uh doing this?” His hands gestured to the building behind her, the neon lights spelling out ISLAND PARADISO casting the dull building in a hellish, red glow.

Sofia could tell he was struggling to keep calm. His whole body bubbled with an effervescent energy she couldn’t pin point. Was it anger? And if he was angry was it at himself or her? Sofia would bet money the answer was her. He was never wrong in his book, she’d noticed. Nearly two years of being with him, holding him to her chest as he revealed his pain, kissing his cheeks and tasting his tears, Rafe never found fault in himself. It was always someone else who made him this way. There was always some other Big, Bad thing that had hurt him. Sofia realised she’d just become another one of those bad things.

But she kept her misgivings to herself just yet. “Coming up to a month. It started off as just bartending, but the tips were nothing compared to the country club.”

Rafe nodded, swallowing as if he was digesting this information, “the pay off from selling me out not enough was it?”

Sofia tried to withhold her wince. She knew it was coming, but still it hurt. “Rafe… it was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Sofia bit her lip, struggling to maintain eye contact. His eyes could be so intense sometimes, so cold and blue. It was too much. “I didn’t think you were serious about us. I heard what you said– that day at the club. I guess I just wanted to hurt you like you hurt me.”

She chanced a look at his face, his expression splitting into confusion, “what did I say? What are you talking about.”

“You were talking to Ruthie and Topper. You said I was just a hookup. That you wouldn’t live with me because you had standards…and I just snapped. Hollis gave me 25 thousand. I still have it– it’s yours.”

Rafe just shook his head, sifting his brain to reach for the memory. “No…no Sofia what the fuck? Why didn’t you just speak with me huh? Even when I called you asking you to explain you were quiet?” His tone was imploring as he neared her in one wide step, his body angled down so he could meet her eyes. Was he apologetic? Did he feel bad?

Sofia felt the gates of her heart open, spurred on by the possibility of his understanding. “Because I thought it was true! I wasn’t anything to you. You would just drag me around everywhere but make it seem like we were nothing serious…what you said that day was just the final nail in the coffin. Then you started talking about a future together– when you took me to see Goat Island– and I was so confused. I tried to take back what I did. I tried to fix it! But you wouldn’t listen Rafe. Then you went ahead and proposed– saying you didn’t care about what I did, that you still loved me! What was I supposed to do huh!? I was scared to say anything on that phone call, but you didn’t even give me a chance. You ended it just like that.” The tears started falling again her voice rising and falling, hurtling out of her control.

Rafe’s visage eddied between hurt and aggravation, held together with twitching features and watery irises. “That’s not fair Sofia and you know it.”

“And this is!? What more do you want from me? I’ll send the money to you tomorrow okay? You told me we were done and I listened. I’m sorry I made you loose everything but that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted you to want me Rafe, not just string me along like a person for hire.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now? Selling yourself?” Sofia could tell he knew it was a low blow from the way he waited a moment before saying it. As if considering if it was worth it. Obviously it was. He couldn’t help himself.

“Can you stop? Do you think I feel good about this? Do you think I want this?” She hated how broken she sounded, how helpless she probably looked.

Rafe suddenly switched from restrained and controlled to desperate and pleading. His hands rose up to hover over her arms, ready to hold her like he used to. Like it was second nature. Like he did that day on the shoreline overlooking Goat Island. “We can fix this. Move back in. We’ll go back to normal.”

“You’ll resent me. Look at you, you already do.”

Rafe shook his head, “I don’t resent you– I– I need to make things better baby, I can’t let you do this shit.”

Sofia blanched at the endearment, feeling her heart ache and twist almost to the point of bleeding out of her chest, “your word means nothing to me Rafe. You want me to quit this job too before you throw me out on my ass next time I make you upset again?”

His mouth screwed up, eyes narrowing in offence. He didn’t like the way she framed the truth it seemed. Sofia found a smug satisfaction at jabbing at him like that.

“Just go. I’ll figure it out. I don’t need your pity.”

“You don’t get it, do you? You hurt me too Sofia. I don’t pity you– I miss you. We can get past this.”

Sofia shook her head, the tears that had collected in her ducts overflowing onto her splotchy cheeks, “how can I believe you huh? Look where it got me last time I put my faith in you.”

Rafe just swallowed thickly, sniffing and letting his head drop. He was quiet for a while stepping back from her. Sofia watched his face shift through a whole spectrum of emotions as if he was deciding what route to take. Finally he sighed, deep and defeated and ashamed, running a coarse hand through his cropped hair.

Rafe slowly neared Sofia, bending down low and finally bridging the distance. Sofia would’ve stepped back but something about the way he looked at her, sincerity finally filling blue irises, reminded her of the day she realised she’d fallen for him. He’d been caught under the light of the North Carolinian pines, looking at her with that dopey smile. And now here he was again, not angry, not moralising, not resentful, but honest and kind. So she let him hold her arms.

“Keep the 25k. Use it. Get yourself out of this shit hole. If you change your mind you know where to find me…I’m sorry Sofia, for not being the man you deserve. I tried, I really did–” Rafe paused taking a shuddering inhale of air, “I didn’t mean for this. I was looking forward to marrying you.”

Rafe didn’t even let the words hit her before he leaned forward bundling her up in a tight hug. Sofia’s first instinct was to refute it, but when she felt his arms envelope her, his scent fill her nose, she crumbled up against the wall of his chest and sobbed quietly.

Rafe broke away first, his body lowering to meet hers. He brushed away the hair that stuck to her brine coated cheeks, blue eyes flickering all across her face, as if he was committing it to memory. “If anything happens, you can call me yeah?”

Sofia’s eyebrows softened, knowing she wouldn’t need to. But she nodded anyways, more for his sake than her own.

“Bye Rafe,” she finally mustered, voice close to a whisper, before slipping out of his hold and heading to her car.

She didn’t hear him say anything else. Not a final one up. Or a biting dig to remind her she was the one in the wrong. He just stood where he was, watching her as she drove out of the parking lot, face almost solemn as if he was grieving.

She drove away, the sound of the tyres rolling across the backroad gravel, filling the silence. The heavy feeling in her chest lingered, just like it did the day he broke things off between them.

Sofia had more than just guilt and regret to deal with tonight, the sticky tendrils of heartache already wrapping around her throat, making it hard to breathe.

***

Rafe walked back to Barry, who’d remained in the same position as he left him: slouched against the hood of his truck, arms folded across his chest.

“You ready to go now?” He asked, in a bored drawl. But if he was so bored, why didn’t he wait in the truck?

Rafe nodded, maintaining a stoic expression.

The two left the strip club parking lot completely silent, the extent of what he lost dawning on Rafe as they reached Kildare, thirty minutes later.

“What am I supposed to do Barry?” Rafe finally said, the first word spoken in the stifling truck.

“You move on.”

“But she needs my help.”

Barry let out a soft inhale of breath. Was it a scoff? Or was it a sigh? Rafe didn’t know, but when Barry finally answered, his was expression unreadable. “She doesn’t trust you anymore, man. So you either wait it out or move on.”

“I can wait.” If there was any possibility he could have her again, he’d hold on to it. Rafe Cameron was nothing if not insistent.

Barry cocked his head, “for her to trust you again?”

“Yeah– what? You think she won’t.”

“I’m surprised she ever did in the first place. I think she’s learned her lesson.”

Rafe laughed sardonically. “Like you did? You keep taking me back.”

Barry considered him for long while, glancing over at Rafe in the shadowy truck, “yeah well I’m hopin’ she makes better choices than me now.”

Rafe scrunched his nose, a heady mix of rage and shame pooling in his stomach. “Whatever. I’m trying to be better man. I love her. And I know it’s real because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. It’s different with Sofia.”

“Different how?”

“She lets me be the better version of myself. It doesn’t hurt with her.”

“Like it hurts with me?”

“No. Not you.” The answer was quick on his tongue.

Barry sighed, his hands tightening on the wheel, “y’know why I’m tellin’ you to leave her alone? It’s because you may not be hurtin’ but she is.”

“Why do you care so much?”

Barry considered his questions for moment. “She was nice to me, she didn’t have to be, but she was.”

“She’s nice to everyone.”

“So why do you think you’re special?” Barry gave him sidelong glance. He wasn’t mean or bitter or cruel. He spoke plainly, as if it was just a regular question.

Rafe was silent at it. Fuck Barry and his esoteric quips.

“She’d hurt less if she was with me. I can take care of her.”

“You can barely take care of yourself dawg.”

“Whatever Barry. As if you’re so perfect. I may not be the best person on earth but I’m not the worst either, okay? I get shit done. I take care of things. I’ll take care of her.”

“She’s not one of your things.”

“Stop fucking twisting my words.”

“I’m just sayin’ what I’m hearin’ and seein’…you clearly care for her, I’m not disputing that. I don’t know man. I just feel bad for her.”

Rafe stirred with guilt. The notion that she was in that place because of him slammed right into his chest. What would she be doing if he hadn’t fucked her at his party two summers ago? Would she be in college, like she dreamed about? Or would she have found another job somewhere on Kildare? Would she at least be happy? Rafe recalled the bubbly, bright girl, with her cute little bangs and glittering hazel eyes, who couldn’t stop smiling up at him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His heart twisted, convulsing inside his chest with a sharp potent pain.

Barry had pulled up into his driveway, stopping the car outside his house.

“So you’re gonna wait for her then?” He remarked, turning to face him, features lit up by the motion sensor lights of Rafe’s courtyard.

“Yeah. I’ll wait.”

“Well good luck country club. I’ll see you around.”

Rafe left his truck, Barry quickly reversing down the driveway, leaving Rafe standing alone outside his house.

When he’d go inside he’d be alone too. He wouldn’t stumble over her trainers in the doorway, there would be no leftovers from her dinner on stove, the hallway light wouldn’t be left on (because she didn’t want him to trip up in the dark).

And when he’d crawl into bed, the sheets would be cold. He’d reach out and graze nothing but air. And soon enough, the faint, lingering smell of her shampoo would fade from the pillows too.

Rafe didn’t believe in god, but he knew that Sofia did. He looked up at the night sky, littered with stars and puffs of grey cloud, and whispered quietly under his breath.

“Please let Sofia be okay. Please let her find her way back to me.”

It was the first time he’d prayed in a long while. The whole thing felt like such a cop out. Saying words instead of actually getting up and doing shit? But if Sofia wasn’t going to accept his help, listen to him when he finally needed her to, then this was the least he could do.

“Please make it all be okay again.”

#:(#outer banks #rafe cameron #sofia obx #sofia outer banks #rafe x sofia #rafe and sofia #rafe cameron fanfiction #sofia outer banks fanfiction #rafe and sofia fanfiction #barry obx #barry outer banks #rafe cameron angst #will probably disappear again after this #one more week and then all my assignments will be finished!!!#༊*·˚syren

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kuronarnze · 3 days ago

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Hi !! I'm the anon who requested the Bachira x shy!reader fic and I just wanted to say it was perfect ❤️ I really love your writing, it's so delicate and efficient at the same time ? Idk how to explain, but it feels really spot-on. So..if you want to write a part 2, please do, I would be overjoyed to read it ❤️ I hope you have a nice day !!!

a/n: hihiii! Omg hellooo !! This oneshot is really really cheesy HAHAHA, im sorry if it turns out weird (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) , So sorry for the late responsee, i forgot to post this and this has been in my drafts for a pretty long time,,, enjoy the oneshot !!

Bachira Meguru x shy!Reader !

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"a little sunshine" pt.1 / pt.2 (you're in pt 2 !)

You had started to laugh more lately. Not the small polite kind, but real, bubbling laughter.

And it was all thanks to Bachira Meguru.

Every day, he greeted you with a huge wave, like you were the most important person in the school. He dragged you to sit under your favorite tree at lunch, and sometimes stayed late after school just to walk with you to the station.

He called it your “Daily Sunshine Time.”

And you were slowly getting used to the light he brought into your life.

—

One late afternoon, the sky was dipped in soft pinks and oranges, the breeze gentle against your cheeks. You were sitting on the swings near the back of the school playground, legs barely swaying, your bag beside you.

Bachira appeared, a soccer ball tucked under one arm. “Knew I’d find you here,” he grinned, tapping the ball against his knee.

You smiled shyly. “You always do.”

He dropped his bag and plopped onto the swing beside you, kicking off just slightly. “Because I’ve got a radar for people I like.”

You felt your chest squeeze a little. “O-Oh…”

There was a pause before you heard him speak again, voice quieter than usual.

“Do you know how cool you are?”

You blinked, looking over. “Me?”

He nodded, still staring up at the darkening sky. “At first I thought you were just shy. But you’re also really kind. And patient. And funny in this really subtle way.” He paused. “I think you’re amazing.”

Your breath caught. “Why… why are you saying all this?”

Bachira looked at you now, his golden eyes warm.

“Because I want you to know. Because you’ve started smiling more lately, and I think part of it is because of me. And that makes me feel…” he trailed off, gaze drifting again. “Like I’m your sunshine or something.”

“…You are,” you whispered.

He turned to you sharply. “Huh?”

You looked away, heart thudding. “You’re my sunshine.”

Silence.

And then—

“Can I hug you?” he asked gently.

You nodded.

He leaned over, arms wrapping around you from the swing beside you. You felt his warmth, his heartbeat, the way he held you so carefully like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For letting me in.”

You hid your face in his shoulder. “Thank you for finding me.”

---

The next day, everyone was buzzing about the sports festival.

You weren’t planning on joining. Big crowds still scared you a little. But during lunch, Bachira brought over a flyer and slammed it down with dramatic flair.

“Guess who’s on the soccer mini-game team?”

You smiled. “You?”

“Of course! But—” he leaned closer, “—I need my lucky charm to cheer me on.”

You blinked. “Me?”

He nodded seriously. “You’re my power-up. My good luck. My secret weapon.”

You laughed, a soft and genuine sound. “I’ll come. I promise.”

His grin was the brightest it had ever been.

---

The day of the festival, you stood by the side of the small soccer field, wearing your school’s sports jacket and holding a bottle of water in both hands nervously.

Bachira was already on the field, bouncing excitedly on his toes, eyes scanning the crowd until they found you.

He waved.

You waved back, shyly.

When the game ended (his team obviously won), he ran straight to you, sweaty and glowing, grabbing the water bottle from your hand.

“I felt you cheering,” he said between gulps. “I could feel it.”

You laughed. “I only said your name once…”

“That’s enough,” he said with a grin. Then he looked at you, more serious now. “Wanna know something?”

“What?”

“You’re not just my sunshine anymore,” he said, reaching out to gently tap your forehead with his finger. “You’re my favorite person.”

Your heart melted.

And before you could overthink it, you whispered, “Me too.”

He blinked. “Wait—really?”

You nodded, blushing. “You’re my favorite person too.”

He beamed, then leaned forward slightly.

“Can I kiss you?”

You froze, then slowly nodded again, cheeks burning.

He leaned in, soft and slow, and kissed you like you were something precious.

And in that moment, on a crowded school field filled with noise and energy—you felt calm.

Because Bachira Meguru had become your safe place.

And you? You had become his.

End.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

OKAYYY thank you sm for reading !! Have a nice dayy !! Im really bad at writing like confession scenes since it always turns out really cheesy/cringe, so im sorry if its actually cheesy/cringe (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

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mannatea · 2 days ago

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Endlessly (2/2), a Rose of Versailles fanfic

Words: 4,412 words (8,179 words total) Summary: André helps Oscar undress. Or, the intimacy of a habitual and socially acceptable touch—a small and quiet indulgence for both of them. Pairing/Character: André/Oscar Warnings: This is a little horny, not gonna lie. Extra Info: This is for the lovely and perfect @nicetoart / @niceto169 whose beautiful art "Endlessly" came into my house and beat me up. True story. The first chapter of this story was a tribute to their art told from André's perspective. The second (and final!) chapter is a different undressing scene from Oscar's perspective. Rating: T Genre: Friendship, light romance, yearning.

Special thank you to @trash-god for the beta work, and for looking at my rough drafts and letting me bounce ideas off of you! 🙏🏻

This was written based on the manga characterizations.

I hope you enjoy. 🌹

Notes, which are just “behind the scenes” footage:

Reminder: since André is Oscar’s attendant/valet, helping her dress and undress would be one of his duties. However, the scope of what he is able to help her with would be limited. I tried to write this story with both of these in mind.

To start with, wow! What a piece of art. I love art that feels like it could be telling some kind of story—showing us a moment in the lives of others—and “Endlessly” really delivered with that! When I offered to write a story based on one of niceto’s pieces of art, I was honestly torn between writing about “It’s not my blood” or “Endlessly” and ended up going with “Endlessly” because I felt very much like I could make a reasonably-sized tale out of it.

I figured out early on that I wanted to write two parts, because I couldn’t decide whose perspective to write the story in; André’s point of view seemed the most obvious (to match the art, as he is the one with his eyes open, he is the one whose endless love shines through while Oscar seems somewhat oblivious to it), but sometimes I like to buck tradition a little and do the unexpected.

However, both ideas were so fun I just decided to do both, starting with André’s (as this was intended to be a tribute work) and then following up with Oscar’s, where both together would paint a more cohesive narrative about their close relationship.

In the first story, we see things through André’s eyes. I wanted his perspective to feel reserved, like he himself is. I’ve always felt that André understood his feelings for Oscar from fairly early on, and because of this, had some small control over his thoughts. You could imagine this is almost a way of coping with his situation: loving someone he’s not supposed to love, longing for things he cannot share with her or express, being tied to her for the duration of his life regardless (while never really wanting to be anywhere else).

André is a reserved person in general. Oscar comments on this multiple times and we see him act that way in the manga, especially when she loses her temper and takes it out on him. More than that, I can’t help but feel that most of his thoughts lean that way, too: that he represses them or puts them through a filter in his head before he lets himself think of them. Again, as a way to protect himself.

Now that I am writing these characters in the year of our lord and savior 2025, I have words for these characters’ sexualities that I never had when I originally wrote them (even though it’s funny, because I have always written them this way). I don’t think this information is necessary to the story (it’s just a fun bit of “behind the scenes” information for the curious), but André strikes me as an exceptionally demisexual man.

All of his physical attraction for Oscar is centered on the bond he has with her, rooted in the closeness of their spirits—and most of his happiness comes from being close to her and sharing a life with her. That’s not to say he doesn’t want to have sex with her (he does, it’s mentioned) but that it only comes up when it does (after they’re together, when he’s afraid he won’t be able to see her anymore) tells me that it’s not exactly a “top priority” for him. He is very easily pleased and made happy with other intimacies. And that is what I wanted to show, here, in this story: that general contentment he feels when he is able to be useful to her and have an excuse to touch her, even if it is with this little dressing/undressing ritual they share infrequently—something he does to feel close to her, to feel connected. Like the child in him that missed her the moment she stopped trying to convince him to wrestle with her is still reaching out, desperate to maintain that thread of connection.

I’m sure André physically reacted to Oscar before he was fifteen and wrestling around with her in the grass, but I wanted to show the moment he knew he could not keep ignoring it happening—the moment he was forced to put an end to it. The tragedy of them losing that physical connection feels important to me (and is the one thing the live-action ALMOST gets right).

And Oscar also struggles with this lost connection, which you can see a little bit in the first chapter, but far more clearly in the second (since it is her perspective). I really love Oscar in the manga; she’s such a feeling person, despite how much she struggles with heavy and loud emotion. I wanted to really capture that part of her, here.

Oscar needling André into fighting with her has always felt very Oscar-like to me; I think she likes stimulating conversation and I think she enjoys arguing, but when she was younger I’m sure she enjoyed playfighting and roughhousing. Due to her upbringing, most of the real affection she received was probably from Nanny/Grand-mère (and even then, limited, because it was not an acceptable practice to shower the children you were minding with affection, as that was not your right).

We also get the vibe in the manga that, even though Oscar does love her parents, they are not physically affectionate with one another (which is part of what makes Oscar breaking down in tears on her mother’s lap such a big deal; they typically do not have that kind of relationship).

Due to this lack of connection with the adults in her life, the closest connection Oscar forms as a child is with André.

Honestly, thank God for André; even though it takes her years to realize it (“You were there! You were there!”), his presence had an undeniably positive effect on her life from the start. My favorite part of their relationship is how close they feel, even early on in the series. He’s comfortable enough to give her his opinions (even if he knows she won’t like them) and she’s comfortable enough to be herself around him. (He’s one of the only people she cries in front of over and over and over again, but he is also a “safe” person she can lose her temper around.)

That closeness is something I wanted to mimic and tie in large part to Oscar’s personal rooms—to a place where she typically has the most control and feels the most comfortable. So much of her life is public (including her career); she needs a place where she can be herself, and she needs a person she can be herself safely in front of.

That person is André, obviously.

We talked already about how André’s perspective is reserved (not just his nature) and part of the reason for this is, I feel, because he understands his feelings very well. He knows how deep they are; he knows what they mean. This gives him the ability to put them through a filter before he speaks, before he acts.

Oscar, on the other hand, does not understand her own feelings. She simply has them and struggles to make sense of them (and never tries very hard to). I don’t think her upbringing helped with this (she was not encouraged to think of them), but for the most part I believe this is simply her nature. Even if she were raised as a woman, I believe she would struggle with emotions in a very similar vein.

Due to this, I tried to write Oscar as being troublesome on purpose because she does like to make things hard on André. It’s fun, she wants to see his reaction; she basically has a crush on him that she sometimes acts on but doesn’t know it for what it is. Amusingly, neither does André really understand it, because he can’t conjure up a circumstance in which she would return his feelings—as it goes against the way of things.

Anyway, some other small things:

André not wanting to look at Oscar in that wet shirt was something that I conceived of before I wrote the story (in fact, it was in my paragraph-long outline). I had this idea that her trust means so much to him that he can’t bear to do anything that might hurt it.

Their matching calluses from swordplay shows up in both stories and I had a lot of fun with that, especially in Oscar’s perspective where she feels his on her leg and touches her own to her mouth.

Oscar’s insane growing need to touch him when she’s drunk was SO much fun to write. I wanted to show that she feels she can only indulge in it by being difficult, because if she is causing him some small problem, it gives him an excuse to touch her.

Oscar’s selfishness comes out a little in this story, too, but in quiet ways. I hope it worked well.

The idea of walls comes up a few times across both stories, too, which was intentional, and I wanted to end the second one on that note, because the (hopefully) obvious truth is that they both know the other is lying, and they just build that lie up together, to avoid facing the truth and its consequences.

There are a couple of lines in here that I really loved writing and that I’m very pleased with. Feel free to guess which ones, hahaha.

Same as always echoing at the start and end of the second story to show André’s steadfastness was a last second change and I’m happy with it.

Thank you very much for reading the story and these silly (but fun to write up) notes! If you have any questions please feel free to ask.

Comments, criticism, and discussion are all welcome. 🤍

#rose of versailles #berusaiyu no bara #berubara #mannafics #i didn't edit my notes so sorry if there are any typos in there. will look again soon.

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the-travelling-witch · 1 year ago

Text

𝐎𝐂: 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍

Name: Cheron von Blocksberg

Homeland: Hell

Dorm: Diasomnia

Class: 3-C

Age: ???

Height: 192 cm w/o horns

Club: Had trouble picking but ended up in the Science Club

Best Subject: Ancient Curses & Practical Magic

Hobbies: Studying magic, reading, fashion

Pet peeves: His wings getting caught on door frames… just build more arched gateways, mortals

Favourite food: The souls of the damned… just kidding, it’s lasagna

Least favourite food: Anything too sweet and tacky

Talent: Getting under people’s skin (without the teachers noticing)

Cheron von Blocksberg, the Prince of Hell, cuts an imposing figure befitting his position. Even if his height doesn’t manage to impress, his leathery wings and the pair of thick horns crowning his head, paired with his sharp claws and fangs, are enough to have people backing away from him. The crimson ends of his dark hair, reminiscent of hell fire, and the blazing intensity of his ruby and golden eyes do not help in making him more approachable. One look at him makes it apparent why he was sorted into the dorm based on the Thorn Fairy’s spirit of nobility.

Coming to Night Raven College is more of an excuse to leave the bleak and lifeless planes of his home. Considering his status, his education growing up was already pretty all encompassing, so his life at NRC is more about entertaining himself by toying with the living souls around him and seeing what he can tempt them into. Cheron’s not exactly hostile but some of their reactions are just so funny, he can’t help himself at times. Before coming to NRC, he wasn’t quite sure how much the living would differ from the damned but it turns out you can talk circles around them all the same; all the better for a silver tongued demon like him.

Unlike others, he doesn’t go around flaunting his power, though he will put people in their place if necessary. Besides, it’s not like he has to go around making people more aware of how threatening he can be; his title, high grades and the gossip going around campus do that for him. Despite his charming and easy-going smile, most people like to keep him at arm’s length, just like his housewarden. However, unlike Malleus, Cheron is actually present around campus and his mood can be rather unpredictable behind that amused expression of his, which makes people as wary of him as of Floyd.

Still, it’s not like he’s completely heartless, putting in some effort, especially for those who’ve earned his respect, and joking around most of the time. No, no, he is taking this seriously, trust him. After all, he is here to meet new people and build connections, and humans fascinate him. In his free time, he’s quite fond of researching old magic and even experimenting with altering and creating new ones. Some students have also reported seeing him pour over fashion magazines or with his nose stuck in a book.

“Hm? Oh you’re the Ramshackle Prefect, aren’t you? I’m Cheron, nice to meet you! Say, you must have some interesting stories to tell, I wouldn’t mind lending you my ear over a coffee some time. Just call me when you’re feeling chatty~”

Relationship with other students:

Riddle - If there’s someone Riddle has to resist collaring as often as Floyd or Ace, it might be Cheron. Sure, in front of the teachers, the prince is a model student; always properly dressed, never late and on top of his coursework. But Riddle knows better. Calling Cheron an angel is like trying to convince him the sky is red. Yet, the Diasomnia student isn’t technically breaking any rules, always operating through some kind of loophole, which frustrates the Heartslabyul housewarden even more. Still, he’ll give credit where credit is due and silently commends his meticulousness and will to study.

Leona - If Leona had horns he could lock, it would probably happen more often than anyone would like. In a way, Cheron ticks him off more than the other lizard by the sole fact he has to see his face more often around campus. While Malleus is annoyingly oblivious at times and many of Leona’s taunts fall on deaf ears, Cheron returns them with interest each time. The lion prince isn’t sure if he prefers that, so he settles for not meeting the Diasomnia student more often than necessary.

Azul - At first Azul thought he might have struck big. Another Diasomnia prince from a distant land? One far off from living society? Perhaps if he was as clueless as Malleus or naïve as Kalim… In his conversation to test the waters, however, the octomer soon learnt he’d get burnt if he tried anything funny and has made a berth around Cheron since. Whenever he sees the demon with one of the tweels, he can feel a headache incoming.

Kalim - Cheron has seen more than enough souls who had to pay the ultimate price for their greed in the end, so when he heard the heir of the Al-Asim family would be joining NRC, he couldn’t help but be sceptical. Yet, he would admit, Kalim surprised him. Despite all of his wealth, greed was one of the least fitting words to describe him and Cheron could respect that. If you could fault Kalim for anything it was his naïveté but that was hardly a sin. So Cheron found himself being much more genuine with the second year than with others, no matter how distrustful Jamil was of him.

Vil - Vil tried not to get ahead of himself when he met Cheron the first time. Sure, he carried himself with grace and elegance befitting his position but he knew from experience with Leona and Malleus, that didn’t have to mean anything. Yet, the blond was positively surprised when Cheron maintained his pristine appearance and showed off his manners. And against all odds, the demon hit it off with Vil surprisingly well after commenting on the magazine the model was studying. Then again, Vil is one of the few people who have earned Cheron’s respect, so maybe it’s not so surprising after all.

Idia - Listen, Cheron gets it. Being from a gloomy environment and expected to take over the family business himself, he can sympathise with Idia, almost to the point of leaving the fellow fiery-haired guy alone. Almost. However, the Ignihyde housewarden is just so much fun to tease. The first time they met, Cheron had to stop himself from grinning too hard as Idia nearly fell over backwards, stammering out an excuse to get away. As one of the first interactions with the living, it had a pretty forming impression on him. Still, he makes sure to cut the poor guy some slack… every now and then.

Malleus - As the heir apparent of Briar Valley and his housewarden, Cheron obviously treats Malleus with respect, though his tone is laced with playful teasing most of the time, which usually results in Sebek popping a vein. Malleus does not pick up on it. People sometimes wonder if Cheron is jealous of the other prince for snatching the housewarden position but those are just rumours. Sure, he doesn’t shy away from metaphorically locking horns with the dragon but being a housewarden sounds like a hassle and Cheron’s not about that. His gargoyle-esque appearance does net him some points with Malleus though, who was terribly disappointed to learn he was, in fact, not a sentient gargoyle.

Jade - Octavinelle’s vice housewarden has always taken to studying the behaviours of those around him, either to learn more about them or to learn from them. In the case of Cheron, it’s both. On one hand, Jade finds great amusement in watching him interact with students around campus, an air of sly aloofness surrounding him. One the other hand, there are so many rumours surrounding him without enough proof to match them, which fascinates Jade the same way a good puzzle would.

Floyd - Putting Cheron and Floyd together can either lead to a catastrophe or… well, a catastrophe. Their moods either clash and they are ready to go at each other’s throats -Cheron hiding it significantly better than Floyd- which spells trouble for those in their vicinity. Or, they get along splendidly, egging each other on and terrorising the poor souls around them. Either way, avoiding them together might be the smartest option.

Trey & Rook - As his clubmates, they regularly interact with Cheron outside of normal classes. And while Trey sometimes still sweats bullets seeing both Rook and Cheron around certain chemicals, he learnt pretty soon after the prince joined the club that he was very well read and much more responsible than the whispers about him would suggest. Rook just holds a general fascination for the demon and enjoys bouncing ideas off each other.

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #┊twst! oc: cheron ೃ༄#after having him in my drafts for so long #i'll just throw him out there #and yes #he's twisted from chernabog

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jadewritesficshere · 5 months ago

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Grey

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Synopsis: Steve gets a wake up call from yall's daughter

Contents: talks of aging, kids being kids, references to smut but nothing explicit

Steve groans as his consciousness comes to. Something is hitting his face. Someone. Repeatedly.

Steve squints his bleary eyes open as a hand smacks him in the jaw again. A small smile appears on his face even though his jaw stings from the impact. "Morning," Steve's voice is still thick with sleep as he turns to look into brown eyes barely peeking over the edge of the bed.

A quiet voice repeats back ,"Morning," to Steve before arms reach up over the edge of the bed to try and grasp something. Small hands grab the blanket and tug it off of him slightly as the child attempts to climb up. At two and half, Amelia Joy Harrington can barely see above the edge of her parents' bed, let alone get on it.

Steve hoists Amelia up and sits her on his stomach. Steve winces as Amelia scrambles, a stray foot hitting his thigh precariously close to his crotch. Arms are thrown around his neck in a hug as Amelia lays her head against her dad's chest.

Steve feels like his heart could burst out of his chest from the joy he is feeling. A hug from his baby? The best way to wake up in the morning. Who cares if his jaw is still stinging and probably red, his little girl loves him.

Steve sighs in contentment. Steve holds his daughter close until she starts to fidget and wiggle. Amelia sits up and throws her hands in the air. "Happy Birthday!" She whispers excitedly, except she has no concept of how quiet a whisper should actually be and says it in a much too loud voice.

"What?" Steve asks, hand hovering near Amelia's side in case she slips. Amelia's eyebrows furrow as she pouts at him, a look that is an exact copy of you. Her arms slowly lower as she stares at Steve. "Happy Birthday. You old." Amelia pouts at him.

Steve blinks at Amelia in confusion but nods his head. First off, rude, he isn't that old. Steve isn't sure where she gets her unfiltered, blunt commentary (it absolutely isn't him). Second, it absolutely isn't his birthday. Not even close.

"Why uh...why is it my birthday?" Steve asks, unsure if Amelia fully understands the concept. Not sure if he can explain the idea of a birthday to a two (and a half) year old. "Grey." Amelia declares giving Steve whiplash. Before Steve can speak, Amelia points at the comforter," Blue." Steve smiles," Yes, blue."

Amelia points to her shirt," Green." Steve nods. Amelia taps under Steve's eye, lashes brushing against her finger causing him to close it. Steve hopes she doesn't attempt to actually poke his eye.

"Brown." Amelia declares. "Thats right." Steve grins, his girl is so smart. Amelia points to his temple," Grey." "That's ri- what?! No!" Steve's mouth drops open as Amelia giggles. "Uncle Dustbin says grey is old. Birthday makes old. Happy Birthday!"

The creak of the loose floorboard in the hall notifies Steve of your approach. You peek into the doorway of the room, seeing your two favorite people. One looking aghast and the other giggling at her father's reaction.

"What's going on in here?" You ask, leaning against the doorway. "Grey. Birthday." Amelia announces, like it explains everything. And it does in her little mind.

You hum in response, looking at your husband who seems lost for words. Amelia slides off of Steve and off the bed, Steve guiding her so her feet land on the ground absent-mindedly. He would never let her fall or get hurt. Or you.

Amelia half walks half dances in your direction. A prance in her step, she stops in front of you and grabs your hands. "It's daddy's birthday," She says before headbutting your leg. You chuckle and pat her head as she dances out of the room, in her own little world.

"You lying to my kid again?" You ask once Amelia is gone. Steve sputters as he sits up," I did not- our kid- did not lie." "Uh-huh, sure," you say sarcastically. Steve rolls his eyes at you as he gets up out of bed.

Steve stretches as he rocks on his feet, back cracking, before strolling over to you. "Good morning," Steve mumbles, hand landing on your hip. You hum back as he leans in and kisses you. Soft. Slow. Sweet. Leaving you longing for more as he pulls back.

"Love you," Steve says, fingers running along the waistband of your pants. "I love you too," you want to melt into him. Curl up in his arms and stay in this moment. Let the love and adoration fill the air around you.

"Do I look old?" Steve is the first to break the silence. Your brow furrows in confusion," huh?" "Amelia she," Steve huffs out a laugh," said I have grey hair." You chuckle as you bring a hand up, fingers threading through his hair," You have some but its nice." "Its nice huh?" "Makes you look distinguished. Handsome." You bite your lip and look up at him.

Steve knows that look. Knows it well. It's the look you gave him the first time you moved past just making out. The same look you gave him on your first anniversary. The same look you wore on your wedding night. The same look you gave before Amelia was conceived.

Steve can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If getting old gives him that look, well, he won't complain.

"What about me?" You ask, batting your lashes. "Beautiful," Steve kisses your cheek," Gorgeous," he kisses the corner of your lips. He continues to alternate between kissing all over your face and praising you.

"My love," Steve whispers before kissing you softly on the lips. You sigh into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer.

A loud crash from the living room has you two pulling back from the sweet moment you stole. "What was that?" You call down the hall. "Nothing!" Amelia yells back, making you sigh but smile. Steve can't help but grin too. His life was a little hectic dealing with a rambunctious child, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And he thinks, if life is like this, he can manage getting old with you. He wouldn't want it any other way.

#Steve whines to Robin later who just sits there laughing until she cries #Until he points out she's aged too because she has laugh lines from smiling and then she spirals just a bit #He has to hold her hand and tell her its a good thing and she goes on a rant about anti-aging and its harder for women then men #How there's all this extra pressure and Steve is aghast like he isnt dumb he knew there was but he never heard it all verbalized #He comes home and kisses you and gets on his knees and tells you he loves you #He then begs you to let him show you how much he loves you wanting nothing more then to use his tongue on you #I mean why would you not let him #And when you lay in bed cuddling after he thinks again he doesn't mind aging if he's doing it with you #You wake up abruptly in the middle of the night and startle him awake #“Oh my God Amelia is going to go to high school and get a boyfriend” you whine #Steve just mutters an oh God and immediately starts thinking if it would be TOO much to have the nail bat when he speaks to said boyfriend #You both think about it for a long time meanwhile Amelia is asleep in her room with drool running out of her mouth hugging a stuffed animal #Anyways Steve nation we up??? This has been drafted for awhile but not posted but I am inspired #And I saw this and went oh yeah post that #So here it is...for u...on this fine Friday early morning #Jade is talking #steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington/you #Steve Harrington/reader #steve harrington x female!reader

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crossbackpoke-check · 3 months ago

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blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

#liv in the replies #if i were insane there would be an appendix to this called telling the bees however i finished this at 3am yesterday its nearly midnight &#my cutoff is when my ahl asg stream cuts. GOD by now i should know when i save a poem like hmm. not applicable but god it'd be perfect #THAT'S A CURSE. DON'T PUT IT IN THE DOCUMENT. DON'T SAVE IT. FORGET YOU READ IT. IT'S A CURSE!! <- things i should've told myself when i #went to read bees was already like 👀 &then the first line was FUCKING CLAUDE!!!!! anyway. sorry also this is like. insanely long but ALSO #regarding mf claude. the first picture is a leftover from the claude edit i made years ago so that feels GREAT and BEAUTIFUL & also for me #as ever y'all will be getting a full breakdown. starting with what i regularly have a breakdown about every time i see it which is joelle's #james 1:12 tattoo which if u use the king james version (gay) is blessed is he who perseveres under trial because having stood the test he #will receive the crown of life the lord has promised to those who love him. which i always go blessed is he who perseveres // for those who #love him. and that's joel. ignoring him getting it then getting sent down on his birthday IGNORING IT. also we know the frosty/maple leafs #hahaha fuck the flyers lore right? good. that's morgan and his dad also bc i love a baby picture & it was perfect. also the dave isaac pic #next was in an article talking about morgan 'stung' by draft camp. shut UP. i have an alt for tells him with claude and ALSO hate the #elephant w/phil bc myesie u fuckin leaf-eater (giraffe) but i love the composition of that jake shot & had to use it (it was also almost #tells him) with thylacine jakey frog nolan also raff the extinct whale bc i needed him here. if my editing on incapable of joy is bad no on #tell me i did some SHENANIGANS to put morgan in there & color-pick/alter his jersey. new skill. i think euphoria is one of my favorite for #the sake of pride night but ALSO that polaroid kills me very time &they're so stoners contemplate the universe but ALSO i love transcendenc #so that whole three photo string i think is my favorite. and i was in looking at these like listen okay it's okay there are only so many #photos in the world. you can repeat from others you've seen before. except ALSO there's so many of these freaks together do you separate #and every time i was like there can't be more there was more. don't ask the number of back-ups for the sweetest blossom/pinch/ruffle sets #okay also the ready to be stung one was a surprise favorite fit for me because i love that line but wasn't sure how to convey it? so it's o #i think with how morgan's face is and the almost of it all. yes joel hardest trier is in there purely for me i do have an alt but. how coul #u doubt him. insert sasha's tweet abt how much joel loves philly but all his quotes have been abt being excited for morgan to have a fresh #start. AND NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES IN CALGARY AND YOU'RE STILL INSEPARABLE god i literally googled frost farabee calgary to find the last #blessed [because. heard but not seen you know of everyone traded but you went together. not seen. (which ties into the terrible appendix)]#and IT DIDN'T EVEN TAKE ME TWO MINUTES TO FIND THAT!!! WHAT DO YOU MEANNN anyway. sorry again it's so long & also i will be vanishing a wee #& a half after posting [redacted] is kicking my ass & im doing [redacted fun things WAIT ACTUALLY U CAN KNOW ONE i'm seeing hippo campus]#morgan frost #joel farabee #philadelphia flyers #calgary flames

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ruby-static · 13 days ago

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Back from the ‘Madre

Boone was the last person to see Riley before he disappeared to the Sierra Madre, and the first person to see him return. He shows up late into Boone’s shift a few hours before sunrise in the worst condition and completely shaken. Needless to say, the dude’s had a HORRIBLE week.

#Fallout #Fallout New Vegas #FNV #Dead Money #FNV Dead Money #Fallout Fanart #FNV Fanart #Boone #Craig Boone #FNV Boone #Courier Six #Courier Six OC #Riley #Riley Haddock #Haven’t posted Riley in a while-#so obviously that means I gotta draw him in the worst condition of his life!#My poor nerd :’)#Long story short: Riley does not handle Dead Money well. At all.#Though- this is kinda a key moment w/ Riley n’ Boone.#Riley just kinda shows up after apparently going through the nightmare gauntlet #and Boone just takes one look at him and goes ‘Yeah I’m not letting this guy travel home on his own.’#Aaaanyways- I’m super proud of this!#I’ve been dying to do more serious comics involving my courier fella.#I have another drafted with a similar-ish concept but w/ Arcade. Might finish that one if anyone is interested.

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dissentersbedamned · 3 months ago

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an entire doodle page worth of content of just these two waow

art commissions

full page for you nerds

#🚬.dei.art #i can link my art comms on this on because i spent all day on this #just dance #just dance 4 #jd4 #rock lobster #rock lobster p1 #rock lobster p2 #art #fanart #digital art #procreate #doodle page #me changing up how i draw humans ONCE AGAIN #but tbh this time think its really cuties from how i stylized the eyes #anyways im unhealthy obsessed with this one map #if youre in kin palace you know what i mean #okay to explain why im calling p1 a ''fucking freak'' its because 1) she just fucking bites p2 2) come on have you heard the female vocals #on this song 3) yeah you gotta be a little weird to date a lobster #eerrmm small little headcannon time #i like to think while p2 is very flirtatious and cocky and all that stuff that comes with being a greaser and shit #when flirted back with hes a never mess and gets all flustered when shown affection :dandylien:#ALSO also i like to think the map was their first meeting it just like gives me that vibes at the first couple seconds of the map #and the first drawing in all of this is after that and p2 is a little shy bc oooohh fuck he really likes this chick and also she bit him #and then p1 kinda like bombards him with love or whatever and then the rest is history (they went missing since 2012)#i sound insane i just love these two a lot #oh also its hard to tell ingame but p1's bracelets match of colors of p2 and THATS SO CUTE 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 UUUUWWWWWWAAAAAA #i almost typed ''how come no one talks about this!!!1!'' like giiirrrl no one gaf about rock lobster #i should go to bed ive been on this draft for too long #morning edit: i thought i was cooking what am i talking about

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unfortunatelyilikebnha · 3 months ago

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The best tdmd moments/things (to me; vaguely but not entirely chronological) (also I haven’t read the manga in ages and I’ve only - recently at least - rewatched bits and pieces so some of this is paraphrased while some of it I went back through to get exact quotes and NO I’m not going to do that for all of them it would take too long) (readmore bc it’s a lot):

- “As the crowd shouted, trying to make Sero feel better, Todoroki took a moment to melt his opponent from the ice prison he’d created. For some reason, in that moment, he looked very sad to me.” Ok so this is not the sports festival moment everyone talks about but it LIVES in my head ABSOLUTELY RENT FREE. It’s like, we know Todoroki’s been watching Midoriya for a while, mostly due to his obvious connection with All Might, but in this moment, while everyone is focusing on Sero, Midoriya is Watching Todoroki Back. He Sees Him.

- MIDORIYA TELLING ENDEAVOR THAT HE IS NOT ALL MIGHT AND SHOUTO IS NOT HIM. Midoriya is freeeeeaked tf out bc endvr is intimidating + he’s worried he’ll discover the secret of OFA but the SECOND endvr starts talking like an asshole, Midoriya SHUTS THAT SHIT DOWN. Again, Midoriya has had like ONE conversation with Todoroki and actively Really Wants To Get Away From Endeavor, but he just gets so mad about the way that Endeavor’s talking that he pauses his retreat to correct him and I think that’s beautiful.

- One of Todoroki’s episodes/chapters being titled “The boy born with everything” and how you could easily contrast Midoriya as “The boy born with nothing” (I could not find a definitive answer on whether canon actually calls him that but like). The juxtaposition of their opposite struggles and the underlying understanding that underneath it all they are really not that different. That they have both suffered, and are both trying to make the most of a power with a difficult legacy. (This brings me to the next point because -)

- “It’s your power, isn’t it?”/“It’s yours! Your quirk, not his!” Yeah. I don’t even have to explain this one I think, everyone knows it’s THE tddk moment. I’ll forever die on the hill that Todoroki should’ve found out about OFA sooner and we should’ve had a direct reversal while Midoriya was still struggling with thinking of OFA as his quirk instead of All Might’s and Todoroki repeats Midoriya’s words right back at him. I mean, Horikoshi LOVES to do that (see: repetition of “body moved without thinking”, “meddling when you aren’t asked to is the essence of being a hero”, “that’s what friends are for, right?” etc) the setup was RIGHT THERE, like taking my shipping goggles or whatever off for a second I think it would’ve been a great addition to the story regardless bc it’s an example of how Midoriya has helped other people AND a reminder that he has not quite conceptualized the advice he gives others for himself! Even without that though, we see how important this moment was to Todoroki literally throughout the rest of his arc, to the point that

- “Midoriya, this is my power. Thank you.” IF WE DIDNT GET TDRK TELLING MDYA THAT OFA WAS HIS QUIRK, AT LEAST WE GOT THIS. MY GOD. I was trying to go mostly chronologically, but since we’re talking about a follow-up to “It’s your power, isn’t it?” I HAD to mention this scene next. It’s a really lovely moment because 1) it’s an acknowledgement of how much Todoroki’s grown (which he did on his own! Midoriya reminded him of why he wanted to become a hero in the first place, and he had a lot of support from friends (& teachers/family) but TODOROKI decided to put in the work to become the kind of hero he wanted to be!) and 2) it’s a reminder to Midoriya that he has made a positive impact and helped the people around him, which I think he’s probably struggling with since this is like. Soon after his dropout arc iirc. (Also: it’s a cool new super move that Todoroki developed himself to try to create a better future for his family!! Which, setting aside how beautiful it is that Todoroki has crafted his fire into something that won’t hurt, is also fun bc Midoriya loves quirks and gets to nerd out over Todoroki’s cool new move lol)

- TODOROKI SHOWING UP TO THE STAIN FIGHT. Todoroki has been friends with Midoriya for like a week and gets a location pin with no other context and IMMEDIATELY deduces that 1) Midoriya’s not the kind of guy to randomly drop his location so 2) he must be in danger, and 3) IMMEDIATELY TELLS ENDEAVOR HE’S GOING TO CHECK OUT THE LOCATION AND TO BRING BACKUP TO THERE AFTER HE’S DONE FIGHTING BC HE THINKS HIS FRIEND’S IN TROUBLE. When he actually shows up the first thing he says is something like “Midoriya you should include more details at a time like this. It took me a while to figure out what you meant and I could’ve been too late” but we literally see in the flashback that he figured this all out in like 2 seconds and IMMEDIATELY came to support Midoriya AND SECURED BACKUP. Every person in Midoriya’s phone received the location pin and expressed various levels of curiosity/concern about it in hindsight but Todoroki figured it out right away and immediately came to help (this isn’t a knock on the rest of 1a btw iirc the rest of them weren’t even in Hosu so there’s not anything they really could’ve done about it besides report it - which iirc Kirishima did -, it’s just that Todoroki WAS in Hosu and DID figure it out so he immediately went to help and it was that simple for him). Todoroki also just like. Instantly accepts that ok, Midoriya and Iida were fighting a serial killer, Guess He’s Also Fighting A Serial Killer Now. ALL THIS FOR HIS FRIEND OF A WEEK. This is one of the core tenets of tddkism to me: they are as ride-or-die as they come. Also notable: Midoriya is not generally in the habit of asking for help. The fact that he did, knowing nothing might come of it, AND TODOROKI SHOWED UP EXACTLY WHEN HE NEEDED HIM??? Can we acknowledge how much that probably meant to Midoriya. Also the start of tdiimd as a trio, which this post isn’t really about, but I can’t completely leave Iida out when talking abt the stain fight that’d be fucked up :(

- “We’ll protect them together”. Yes ik, another Stain fight moment, but I believe this line deserves its own point because, again, Todoroki has been Midoriya’s friend for like a week. Immediately prior to Todoroki saying this, he tells Midoriya that his plan is risky. It’s one thing to recognize Midoriya’s text as a call for help and run to be his backup, it’s another thing to let Midoriya take the strategic lead when he’s already injured and the plan itself could be dangerous. But Todoroki puts his trust in Midoriya and says they’ll protect them together, showing his confidence in Midoriya’s strategic prowess AND battle planning ability.

- “You’re a kind person, Todoroki”. Ok I’ll get this out of the way: I have issues with how the writing of this chapter could be read as implying that being a kind person automatically means you have to forgive the person who hurt you. Ik Midoriya tells Todoroki that it’s ok not to forgive Endvr if he doesn’t want to, but the way he follows it up with the fact that he’s a kind person and the assumption that he wants to forgive Endvr...aren’t my favorite. I think it kind of makes sense for Midoriya to think like this given his own experiences (and also. Midoriya is 15, some of his wording is gonna be a little bit awkward sometimes, so I don’t think that’s the only possible interpretation of what he said), but I wish that if that was the intention, there’d be a moment later on where this view was challenged and Midoriya really internalized that you can be kind and still not forgive someone who’s hurt you. THAT BEING SAID, of all the things that Todoroki is called on a regular basis, and of all the qualities Todoroki associates with himself, I don’t think “kind” is necessarily one of them. “Kindness” was not exactly a virtue that Endeavor seemed to prioritize instilling in him (and though Rei probably would’ve, she WAS absent for much of Shouto’s childhood), and he spent so much time building his walls and striving to defy his dad that it’s not something people tend to immediately pinpoint about him. Todoroki really IS kind though, and Midoriya recognizes that AND makes it a point to tell him. For Todoroki, who has worked on himself quite a lot, and just invited friends to his house probably for the first time ever + gone through a tense family dinner in front of them, I think that probably meant a lot (and his expression in that panel is so cute. Ough).

- “Thank you for being Shouto’s friend”. I think the fact that Fuyumi recognized how meaningful their friendship was and thanked Izuku for it was so significant for both of them, like neither of them, as far as we know, HAD a lot of friends prior to attending UA so the acknowledgement that it is a big deal that they befriended each other is special <3

- Tdrk catching Mdya (and bkg and endvr but this ain’t about them) during the first war arc. He doesn’t know shit about OFA at this point but he followed Midoriya to the front lines anyways.

- Todoroki tucking Midoriya in in 327 and putting a hand on his shoulder in 32…8? 9? Fuck if I know I haven’t read the manga in ages. Anyways. These are both tiny moments but I’m grouping them together bc they really show how Todoroki is there for Midoriya, in the way that he’s always noticing things about him, that he’s RELIABLE, he WANTS to be there for Midoriya like Midoriya was there for Todoroki and that manifests both in following him into terrifying fights and in the small gestures of support. Todoroki NOTICES when something’s wrong, and when he has the necessary context he steps up to help.

Bonus mentions:

- the “are you all might’s secret love child or something?” convo in its entirety. Between the Todoroki Family Trauma Dump, Midoriya sympathizing with Todoroki and realizing that despite how different their lives have been, they’re very similar, the beginning of Midoriya’s desire to help Todoroki, and the beginning of Midoriya really Seeing Todoroki, it sets the groundwork for the start of something beautiful

- AFO: “pay close attention to them, tomura shigaraki. These two could prove to be formidable obstacles to you one day”. / AM: “they may have more in common than they realize. They both have such an intense vibe about them.” The fact that both AFO and AM comment on the tdmd sports festival match leads me to believe that originally their relationship (in the original story I’m talking about the platonic sense but read this any way you will since. This IS a post abt why I ship them) was supposed to be more central to the plot, in this essay I will - (<- ramblings of a crazy person but like!!! Both AM and AFO!! And you’re telling me it didn’t mean anything??? Come on!!)

- Also “you’re helping your opponent. You’re a fool.” Their matching maniacal grins after Midoriya prompts Todoroki to use his fire. Todoroki’s softer smile and little tear. Mdya’s “Amazing…”. Them immediately deciding to go full force regardless if it kills them (IMPORTANT FACT ABOUT THEM IS THAT THEY’RE INSANE <3). “Midoriya…thank you.” (OUGHHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭)

- MDYA YELLING “DONT GIVE UP” DURING THE TDRK/BKG MATCH AND FOR A BRIEF MOMENT TODOROKI STARTS USING HIS FIRE AGAIN. Ik he ultimately doesn’t end up using his fire, but that makes SENSE, you can’t process all that trauma immediately, it takes time!! The fact that for a moment, Midoriya’s voice was enough to allow him to use his fire so soon after his life-altering revelation in the tdmd match is so important to me though :( (and the fact that Midoriya’s willing to 1) root for Todoroki and 2) root for him loud enough that both Todoroki and Bkg can hear,,, ohh tdmd are so special to me)

- their little convo at the training camp. “You have a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong” lol (paraphrased). Underrated tdmd thing is that they’re willing to tell it to each other straight. But also, the genuinely good advice of “words themselves aren’t enough, actions are also needed to get through to someone” (again, paraphrased) (reminder of how Mdya helped Tdrk!! W/ words AND actions!! And now he’s helping Mdya help Kota!)

- “I don’t know, I think heroes cry when they need to probably” - acknowledges Mdya’s crying as a positive trait bc when he’s not crying it means he’s repressing things, also serves as a reminder that heroes are people too (a similar sentiment to Uraraka’s “who will save the heroes when they need saving?”). Serves to remind Mdya that his crying doesn’t make him less of a hero + it’s ok to feel things. Also Tdiimd.

- “You can’t even cry”/“Let us share that burden together” (this is like. Veeeery paraphrased I’m sorry I don’t have access to the chapter and I’m too lazy to rewatch). The whole class said very meaningful things to try to get Midoriya to come back, but even though he wasn’t ultimately the one to fully get through to him (SHOUTOUT TO IIDA ILY IIDA THIS POST ISNT ABOUT HIM EITHER BUT JUST KNOW I CANT WATCH THAT SCENE WITHOUT TEARING UP THEY R SO DEAR TO ME) Todoroki’s is one of my favorites bc sure maybe he doesn’t understand what it’s like to have no quirk and then suddenly have a quirk that’s actually seven quirks and have a pretty much all-powerful supervillain hunting him down but he DOES understand the burden of trying to shoulder the crushing legacy of a top hero, and here he reaches out to Midoriya once more reminding him that his tears are a good thing and offering to share the burden and help Midoriya like Midoriya’s helped him.

- Light novel moments: Mdya teaching Tdrk how to make AM origami and Tdrk sending it to Rei, Tdrk going to return Mdyas pencil and admiring Mdyas AM figure and Mdya trying to give it to him bc he has another one but Tdrk refuses bc he doesn’t want to damage it so he suggests he just come visit it instead (I haven’t read the light novels but I’ve seen these excerpts and I love them dearly) (these are just all really cute it’s nice to see what they’re like outside of doing hero stuff)

- Todoroki’s “Midoriya Sense” (yes this is a fandom joke based on like the stain incident + noticing smth was up during the “heroes cry too” incident + Todoroki asking abt him before the cultural festival etc but it IS genuinely very sweet that Todoroki is always looking out for Midoriya and trying his best to help when he can)

- TODOROKI TELLING MIDORIYA TO REMOVE THE BATTERIES FROM HIS PHONE SO THE GOVERNMENT COULDNT TRACK HIM WHILE HE WAS ON THE RUN BC HE WAS A MURDER SUSPECT. Now I haven’t watched the third movie so I may be wrong about the details but it was VERY funny of Tdrk to be like “did you kill people??? Never mind that actually here’s how to avoid the government” (paraphrased for comedic effect)

-“Midoriya and the others” (cute, something Shouto says…several times lmao) (Izuku has also said “Todoroki and the others” at least once (in the first movie) but I’m not aware of it being a recurring phrase like “Midoriya and the others”)

#this is so varied in quality I’m sorry lmao. but I wrote this at like 4 am and I don’t feel like editing it #(…that much. I edited it a little bit)#tododeku #todomido #tddk #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #‘Julia this is basically every time they interacted’ well yes!!#its 2025. I’m barely even into bnha anymore. but I’m still insane about them.#also this post isn’t about iida BUT IT COULD BE. I COULD PUT HIM IN HERE TOO. TDIIMD MY BELOVED.#it killed me a little to not mention him that much bc this post is abt tdmd as a ship bc they r my. sighs. otp.#(I’m almost 23 years old it feels so dumb to use that word and yet)#(edit: oh shit I am 23 I left this in the drafts too long)#but tdiimd both as a ship and the hosu trio friendship is sooooooo important to me tdiimd are sooooooo important to each other #both bc they care abt each other as people and have been through a lot together and in how they’ve affected each other’s growth #(see: Tdrk inspiring iida to ‘be the hero you want to be’ after Mdya inspired him to do the same #& iida being the one to catch Mdya during the vigilante arc w/ help from Tdrk + 1a & repeating the ‘that’s what friends are for’ line)#(and don’t get me started on the iida/mdya/uraraka trio & how canonically important to each other they are.#or the shouchako friendship that exists mostly in my head. bc this post is about tdmd.)#(but it’s also important to me that you know Iida and Uraraka are so important to Midoriya and Todoroki and each other as well okay? okay??#sorry I have chronic ‘have to yap in the tags’ disease.#anyways to me tdmd is about:#1) the ways they parallel and contrast each other #2) their deep understanding of each other in a way that imo no other character really has #(and the ways that they DON’T understand each other despite all their similarities)#3) their ride-or-die nature that manifests in both grand dramatic gestures and tiny moments of support #oh yeah and how well they work together as a hero team is pretty cool too #anyways we’re freeing this from the drafts idc #I just need yall to know that I never moved on and likely never will

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