#and then he turned into a bunch of raccoons

[lovingdynamight]

“Sharp as a comment god damn I love my bonnet”

Background: Bakugo x gn reader, established relationship, read is a slight crybaby, fluff, Bakugo being nice

Summary: your boyfriend is always stealing your bonnet but you also very dramatic and like crying

“I’m just saying,” Jirou muttered, walking in beside you, “don’t you think you’re being dramatic.”

You sniffled. Sniffled.

“I’m not being dramatic,” you mumbled, lower lip wobbling. “This is serious.”

Jirou raised a brow as she plopped down onto the couch, but you remained standing, dramatically clutching your pillow and blinking tears away like you were in some tragic soap opera.

“…What are you even suffering from?” Mina asked from the kitchen.

You turned to her slowly, sniffling louder this time. “My bonnet. Is gone.”

A beat of silence. Iida paused mid-sip of tea. Kaminari blinked at you from over the back of the couch.

“Again?” Deku groaned.

“Yes again!” you whined, now pacing around the room. “I’ve looked everywhere. Under my bed. In the laundry. I even checked the hallway closet where no one ever goes. You know who probably took it?!”

Everyone already knew the answer. Even Kirishima looked up from his book and sighed.

“Bakugo.” you declared, pouting and swinging your pillow. “That menace has been stealing my bonnet for weeks. I think he has a pile of them somewhere like a weird little raccoon.”

“I don’t think he has a collection—” Jirou started, but you were already mid-spiral.

“And now I’m going to have to go to bed bonnet-less. My hair will be ruined and I just did it!!”

You flopped dramatically onto the couch, face-down, muffling your cries into a throw pillow.

“I hope he steps on a Lego!”

“Do you want me to just ask him?” Kirishima offered, getting up. “He’s probably in his room by now.”

You let out a tragic, dramatic sigh. “He’s probably asleep, wearing it, not even appreciating the significance of the silk.”

“Okay, c’mon,” Kirishima said, grabbing your hand. “We’ll investigate. Bonnet Detective Squad. Let’s go.”

“Yippie,” you declared, marching behind him.

And so began the Great Bonnet Expedition™, featuring you, Kirishima, and half of Class 1-A tiptoeing down the dorm hallway like a bunch of gremlins. Everyone hovered behind you as you reached Bakugo’s door.

You turned to the group like you were heading into battle. “If I don’t make it back… avenge me.”

“Just knock,” Jirou muttered.

But Kirishima, being Kirishima, gently opened the door instead—unlocked, of course—and peeked inside.

He blinked. Then stepped aside.

You stomped into the room and gasped.

There—on the bed, face down, snoring softly—was Katsuki Bakugo.

Wearing your bonnet. Your pretty pink bonnet and he didn’t even have the bow tied right!

Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Like he paid rent to wear it.

Your eye twitched. “…You little gremlin.”

And then? Chaos.

You marched over to his bed, climbed on top of him like a gremlin bride of vengeance, and began whaling on him.

“GIVE ME MY BONNET. GIVE IT RIGHT NOW, YOU LITTLE WHORE!”

WHACK.

“YOU MENACE.”

WHACK WHACK.

“WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO BE THIS DISRESPECTFUL?!”

SMOTHERING.

“I’LL SUFFOCATE YOU WITH THIS PILLOW IF YOU DON’T GIVE IT BACK.”

Bakugo finally shot awake mid-swing, eyes wide, hands trying to block the relentless barrage.

“THE HELL GET OFFA ME, WOMAN!”

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID!”

From the hallway, the entire class was dying laughing, Kaminari wheezing, Mina recording on her phone, and Jirou muttering, “Honestly, I don’t even know why he keeps stealing it at this point. He knew this would happen.”

Eventually, Bakugo managed to catch the pillow mid-swing, yanking it from you with an exhausted groan. “It’s comfy, alright?! It smells like you! I like it, dammit!”

You paused.

The room fell quiet.

“You… like it?” you said slowly.

He looked away, cheeks burning. “Shut up.”

You blinked. Then snatched your bonnet off his head and smacked him with it one more time for good measure.

“Next time you steal it,” you said, smug, “I’m putting hot sauce in your shampoo.”

Bakugo grunted, grabbing a second pillow and yanking you down beside him on the bed. “Fine. But you’re staying here. With me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Only if you stop stealing my bonnets.”

“Tch. Whatever. Just shut up and cuddle.”

You grinned, nestling into his chest as he grumbled and pulled you closer, bonnet now rightfully on your head.

Outside the door, Kirishima fist-bumped Kaminari.

“Worth it.”

You laid curled up beside him now, bonnet safely reclaimed and on your head. Bakugo’s hand rested lazily on your waist, his thumb tracing idle circles through your hoodie.

“…Y’know,” you mumbled into his chest, voice muffled and warm, “you really need to stop stealing my bonnets.”

He snorted, barely awake but still as stubborn as ever. “You really need to stop crying like a damn soap opera every time I do.”

You pulled back just enough to glare up at him. “It’s called emotional expression, you emotionally constipated Pomeranian.”

“Tch. It’s called drama,” he countered, smirking despite himself. “I take one bonnet, and suddenly you’re sobbing in the common room like I keyed your car.”

“You did steal from me,” you sniffed. “It’s theft. Grand larceny of haircare.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s one damn bonnet.”

“It’s my favorite bonnet. I was emotionally attached.”

“Well I’m emotionally attached to you, and you wear it every night, so same thing.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t even seem to realize he said it out loud at first, until you went silent and your face lit up like the sun.

“You’re emotionally attached to me?” you teased, smirking. “Katsuki, are you confessing again? Should I alert the media? Start a scrapbook?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, arm tightening around you.

You smiled, bonnet now safely tucked between you two. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll get you one of your own.”

“I want the red one,” he grumbled sleepily.

You blinked. “You have preferences?!”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

You giggled softly, settling back against his chest as his heartbeat slowed beneath your ear.

“…You’re still not getting the red one,” you whispered.

“Dumbass.”

But he was already smiling.

Thanks for reading. All works done by me. Reblogs comments and likes are encouraged and appreciated

[luxnaiadis]

No Fucking Allowed

Terzomega! smut

`

It was one of those nights when no one had anything special to do. The kind of Friday that turns into Saturday.

None of the four would ever admit to being so detached from reality, so absorbed in hiding in their own rooms like armadillos burrowed in their holes. They only realized night had fallen when someone turned on the kitchen light—a yellowish light that Terzo always complained about, a disaster for Secondo’s eyes that he refused to admit needed help, since he strained to see under that light. Someone muttered that the wind had changed, and only then did they notice how much time had passed.

Primo was cutting bread on a worn cutting board, wearing an apron, the sleeves of his blood-red sweater rolled up to his elbows, a lock of blonde hair stubbornly falling into his eyes no matter how many times the eldest Emeritus brushed it aside. Copia was taking up way too much space on the counter, practically sprawled on the marble—he’d woken up from a nap about half an hour ago to take a shower and was still half groggy and miserable, scowling because Secondo had woken him by smacking him in the face with the hardest pillow in the house. Meanwhile, Secondo himself was standing, leaning against the cabinet, dark shirt and black sweatpants, a beer in his hand. He was silently judging his younger brother’s shirt stretched out on the counter—the problem wasn’t the size, no. The problem was the print: a bunch of raccoons and capybaras on a background of lightning bolts, with a purple and blue caption reading: “My anxiety is chronic; my ass is iconic.”

The shirt was so long it covered his black pajama shorts.

“Ugh, Primo should cancel his credit card,” Secondo muttered to himself, between sips of beer. Huffing, he turned to the cabinet, opening a high shelf, looking for anything that might ease the irritable hunger that was starting to gnaw at him. The sound of Primo’s knife hacking away at bread harder than a rock, practically a fossil, for bruschetta, was the only sound in the room.

It was only when he slammed the drawer shut that he heard soft footsteps, the kind made by sneaker soles. His hearing wasn’t the best, from years of blasting headphones. Secondo turned immediately, on alert, and almost dropped the bottle when he saw Terzo standing behind him.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, stumbling back half a step. “What the hell, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Terzo just shrugged, his lower lip jutting out in a confused little pout as he shrugged.

“Relax, Secondo... I just came to get some water.”

“Creeping around like that? The fridge doesn’t bite, you know!”

The other two brothers turned to look at him. First Primo, who paused the slicing mid-bite. Then Copia, who let out a low whistle and sat up on the counter just to admire Terzo.

“Damn. Someone’s looking sharp.” Copia said, his eyes doing a full scan of his older brother.

And Terzo really was. He’d picked a simple outfit that night, but it fit him so well he felt like he was in a suit. Nothing more than a plain black shirt, a little loose, with a low neckline revealing the thin gold chain he wore around his slender neck, with a moon pendant that matched his small gold earrings. His jeans were light, cuffed at the ankles, the waist almost high with the shirt tucked in. On his feet, white sneakers so white they looked brand new. His black hair was slightly tousled, though it needed only a quick finger comb. Calmly, he went to the fridge, opened only the side with his water bottle, grabbed it, and closed the door.

“Where are you going?” Primo asked, frowning.

“Going out,” Terzo replied, already heading toward the counter, stopping beside Copia.

“At this hour?” Secondo crossed his arms, still scowling from the jump scare.

“Omega invited me to dinner,” he said casually, shrugging.

“Oh, sure.” Primo snorted. “Dinner.”

Terzo raised an eyebrow.

“You guys are way too obsessed with my sex life, you know that?”

“We just wanna know when the official announcement is coming,” Primo said, his tone so impassive it was almost taunting. “Because, let’s face it, you two are practically living in each other already.”

“We’re hooking up,” Terzo emphasized. “Not dating.”

“Out of seven days in the week, you spend five at Omega’s place and call him just ‘a fuck.’ When you two get married, what are you gonna call him? Roommate?” Primo asked, making Terzo turn redder than Primo’s sweater.

“You’re so bitter,” Terzo muttered. “Ugh!”

“It’s just that...” Secondo spun the bottle in his hand. “It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re more dressed up for him than you were for Primo’s graduation.”

“You’re the one who’s being all cranky lately,” Terzo said, taking a swig of cold water and immediately wincing as his brain froze and his nostrils stung, making him scrunch his face. “Hungry?”

“Starving. And Primo’s bread is about to become a deadly weapon.”

“I’m about to bite the cutting board,” Copia muttered.

“It’s gonna be the same as biting the bread,” Terzo laughed, leaning against the counter and taking a long drink of water.

“Seriously, fratellino,” Secondo said, eyeing the misshapen bread slices. “Where’d you find that, a museum?”

“Yeah, Secondo,” Primo jabbed the bread with the knife, making Terzo and Copia jump back. And, to Primo’s surprise, the knife stuck in the bread. “It was right next to the dinosaur your mother used to ride.”

Terzo spit out his water, while Copia doubled over on the counter, both of them laughing until their eyes burned. Secondo, his mouth twisted, crossed his arms.

“Funny you talk about my mom, considering when yours fell from the sky, mine never rode any dinosaur again, that damn meteor.”

“You calling my mom old or fat?” Primo raised an eyebrow, giving the bread another whack, sending a chunk—now the size of a bullet—flying toward Copia and hitting him on the cheek, making the youngest squeal and jump back again. Terzo quickly took another step away, hoping to avoid being next.

“I don’t know about your mom, fratellino, but that bread, no knife or staff in the world is gonna part it.” Terzo snickered.

“Once it goes in the oven, it’ll get softer.”

“If the oven doesn’t explode,” Secondo took a swig of beer. “Looks like you stole that bread from the Flintstones’ dinner table.”

“Pretty sure someone used that bread to stone Mary Magdalene,” the youngest Emeritus jumped off his stool.

“Aren’t you gonna use olive oil?” Terzo frowned, giving Primo an inquisitive look as he gritted his teeth and used both hands to force the knife through the bread.

“He’s gonna use it, but first he’s gotta cut the bread,” Secondo rolled his eyes. “By now, even extra virgin olive oil would’ve lost its virginity.”

“I think this knife is dull, man!” Primo complained.

“What’s dull is you, not seeing that even Moses couldn’t part that bread like the Red Sea. No knife or staff in the world’s got that power.”

“Was that the bread the Ten Commandments were written on?” Terzo teased.

“Easy for you to mock!” Primo ground his teeth, a vein about to pop in his forehead, his arm muscles tensing and bulging. “I’d like to see you try to cut this bread instead of me!”

As the eldest brother ranted, Terzo felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

“I’d do it, fratellino,” he said, reaching into the front pocket, which was surprisingly deep. As soon as he found his phone, Terzo turned the screen on, his eyes falling straight on a text from Omega: “I’m here in front,” he grinned and turned the screen off. “But I gotta go.”

Terzo spun on his heels and left the kitchen, taking the longest strides he could, his black hair fluttering lightly in the air with his little jog.

“Use a condom!” Copia yelled after him, but he was already practically out the front door.

•

Omega’s car was parked in front of the house, submerged in the dim light broken only by the golden glow of the streetlamp—so strong that Omega briefly wondered if someone had strapped a piece of the sun there. But artificial or solar light stood no chance against his tinted windows. And it was that film that would protect his privacy tonight, if he even had any.

Because of his appearance, Omega already suspected many people doubted his intellect. To begin with, he was about six foot three and a half, muscular—but just the right amount so he didn’t look odd—with biceps his friends joked could snap a lion’s neck. He usually liked to show off his athletic body subtly, like with tighter t-shirts. But never those ridiculous tank tops with straps that looked more like shoelaces. No, he wasn’t that guy. In a way, he was shy about it. The ridges of his abs could be clearly counted, and his defined chest was the perfect pillow that Terzo soon claimed during the nights they spent together.

Usually, a brute would be seen immediately as not very bright, the kind who couldn’t sneeze if his brain was dust. But things could get worse—after all, he was a blonde brute. His hair, normally tied in a bun weeks ago, had recently been cut—not too short though, the strands just reaching the nape of his neck when slicked back like now. His blond beard was impeccable, the mustache perfectly placed just below his straight nose, harmoniously fitting his face. His eyes were blue, almond-shaped and small. The kind of guy who looked like trouble, like he could take whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without thinking about consequences—or literally without thinking. But the truth was, he thought a lot, sometimes even too much—enough for Terzo to be, at most, the fifth or sixth person Omega had slept with in his life. He’d slept with only one person through all of high school, mostly due to friends pestering him. In the end, the sex wasn’t good and Omega still regrets it today. Since then, he focused on his studies, and took out the rest of his frustrations at the gym.

At first, also giving in to his father’s pressure, Omega studied law for two years before throwing it all away and, much to his father’s displeasure, following his biggest passion—cooking. Law school had always demanded a lot from his mental, psychological, and even physical health. He didn’t hate reading at all, but there were just too many books, endless, and with his attention so easily pulled away, he often had to reread not just the same paragraph or line, but the entire page twice.

His blue eyes filled with tears when he saw the look of approval in his father’s also blue eyes, after tasting his son’s food for the first time, served at a highly praised restaurant.

But now, his eyes filled with desire as he watched the figure swallowed by the night, bathed in moonlight, slip through the gate and head toward his car. Suddenly, something inside him heated up, remembering how thirsty he was for him.

Terzo opened the passenger door and got in without saying a word. He shut it behind him with a muffled click, immediately enveloped by the scent of warm leather and Omega’s strong cologne.

Omega didn’t look at him directly—just turned his head slightly, jaw tight, eyes sliding in his direction. In silence, he ran a hand along the back of Terzo’s neck and pulled him in firmly, making the other’s body lean over the handbrake. Terzo barely had time to breathe before their lips crashed together, hungry. The kiss was anything but gentle—tongue, teeth, ragged breaths. Omega broke the contact for just a second, only to grab Terzo by the waist and pull him into his lap with a decisive tug. The driver’s seat creaked under their combined weight.

Terzo settled there, straddling him, heart racing as Omega yanked the seat back, his biceps flexing. One of Omega’s hands slid to the small of his back, the other tracing up his thigh until it reached the soft, round curve of Terzo’s ass over his light jeans. Still dazed, Terzo let out a low moan, pressed against Omega’s chest, breath hitching when he felt fingers graze along his waistband. Omega bit the corner of his mouth, then trailed down his jaw to his neck—where he sank his teeth in.

"Always showin’ up with that innocent little face", the blond murmured against his skin, voice low and dragging across Terzo’s heated flesh. "And then you ride me like a little slut in heat."

Terzo let out a low, provocative laugh, already shifting in Omega’s lap, grinding his ass against Omega’s hard cock as he moved his hips in search of the friction he craved. Omega growled, his fingers sinking into Terzo’s narrow waist, until he couldn’t wait any longer. Urgency burned in his chest as his strong fingers pulled Terzo’s shirt upward, revealing his hot, smooth skin that Omega devoured with a ravenous gaze. Without ceremony, his hands slid quickly down his waist, gripping the waistband of his jeans and yanking them down hard — but the zipper stuck. Omega snarled impatiently, fumbling to get it unstuck with one hand while the other clutched Terzo’s waist even harder. Finally, he managed to open it. Then Terzo was there, vulnerable and exposed in his lap, his hard cock already on display between his legs.

“You really are a little slut, aren’t you?” Omega growled, his rough voice scraping against Terzo’s neck. He bit the thin skin with hunger as one hand wrapped around Terzo’s hard cock, squeezing and stroking him in a fast, urgent rhythm.

Terzo arched in his lap, legs locking around Omega’s waist, breath caught between his teeth, his hot body pressed against Omega’s, unable — and unwilling — to escape that grip.

“I just want to hear you say you’re gonna fuck me,” Terzo teased, his mismatched eyes glittering with lust and defiance.

“Is that what you want?” Omega replied, dragging his mouth back into a wild kiss, tongues battling for control, his hands gripping Terzo’s body tightly. “I’m gonna fill you up, slut. You’re gonna scream my name till you’re spent.”

Omega’s right hand moved to his own jeans, tugging to free his thick, throbbing cock, and then he thrust deep and hard inside Terzo. The tight space of the car only made it feel more savage, with the way the vehicle rocked from the movement.

Terzo moaned low, feeling Omega’s strength claiming every inch, pushing, pressing. The seat creaked under their weight, their breaths ragged and muffled in that cramped space.

“I want to hear you moan like the little slut you are,” Omega commanded, his voice rough and cruel, burying his cock hard as he quickened his pace.

Terzo gasped, clutching Omega’s neck, nails digging into his skin, his whole body trembling as he surrendered to the brutal rhythm Omega fucked him with, showing no mercy.

“Fuck me, Omega,” he begged, voice trembling. “I want you to fuck me till I can’t take it anymore.”

The answer came in a sharp bite on his earlobe, followed by a low growl and a forceful pull that pressed Terzo even tighter against his chest.

“You’re my little slut now,” Omega snarled, “and you’re gonna beg for more until I’m done with you.”

Omega’s thrusts grew harder, each stroke deep and firm, his cock buried to the hilt inside Terzo. The heat in the car felt even hotter, their bodies sweaty and close, Omega’s hands roaming Terzo’s bare back, gripping tight, leaving scratches in his skin.

Terzo moaned loudly, head thrown back, his body molding to Omega’s in his lap, feeling that cock sliding in and out, hitting deep, filling every inch of that tight space.

“Fuck me harder, Omega...” Terzo whimpered. “I wanna be your filthy little slut.”

Omega grinned, squeezing Terzo’s waist even harder, holding him firmly. “You think you can handle it?” he asked, yanking Terzo’s body closer.

Terzo could only respond with a hoarse moan, while Omega’s mouth trailed down his neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks Terzo wouldn’t be able to hide. He sucked at spots where no turtleneck would ever cover, not that Terzo ever wore anything that high. Omega’s hickeys reached between his jaw and ear.

The car windows were already fogged, the vehicle shaking with every thrust. Omega pounded hard, knowing exactly how much Terzo could take — and making sure to push past that. For a moment, Terzo wondered if anyone outside could hear the filthy noises: their bodies slamming together, sweaty skin, ragged breathing. But he barely had time to think before Omega’s cock went so deep inside him that he saw stars, his eyes rolling back so far it felt like he’d glimpsed his own brain.

“Look at that,” Omega growled, gripping Terzo’s hips with both hands, making him sink fully onto his cock. “Taking it all. You were born for this, weren’t you?”

Terzo nodded, eyes squeezed shut, biting his lip until it nearly bled, his voice breaking with every word. “For you... to be yours,” he panted. “I’m wide open for you. Break me. Make me come...”

Omega let himself moan with Terzo, sweat dripping down his temple as he watched Terzo’s face twisted with pleasure.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” he murmured, leaning in to bite Terzo’s chin. “Just from me fucking your ass like this...”

The answer came as a high-pitched moan, almost a sob. Terzo was falling apart, every thrust hitting that exact spot, his insides clenching hard, practically begging for release.

Omega sped up, thrusting his hips upward, Terzo’s moans growing louder and more desperate until his whole body trembled. He came right there, sticky and messy, Omega’s cock buried deep and hot inside him. As usual, Omega felt the pressure build until he couldn’t hold it anymore, and with a final growl, he came inside him, gripping Terzo’s waist tight.

The smell of sex filled the car.

Terzo let his head fall on Omega’s shoulder, his heart still pounding.

“I thought you were gonna break me,” he murmured, breathless but with a satisfied smile on his bite-marked lips.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Omega replied, pressing a soft kiss to his sweaty temple, his nose brushing against Terzo’s skin. The ends of Terzo’s dark hair tickled Omega’s face.

“But still, you rode me like the filthiest little slut.”

Still catching his breath, Omega kept Terzo pressed against his chest for a few seconds longer. His heart still hammered, his muscles tense, but slowly the feral instinct gave way to a calm satisfaction. Especially after a rough session like that. Two days without seeing Terzo was enough to leave Omega pent-up — especially when the bastard kept sending him mirror selfies with that pout on his lips and those mismatched, needy eyes.

His large hands, once so rough, now slid gently over Terzo’s sweaty back, tracing slow circles as if he could erase everything that had just happened with a bit of tenderness.

“You with me?” he whispered. Sometimes it was good to check that he hadn’t actually fucked Terzo to death.

Terzo let out a muffled sound, almost lazy, his fingers lightly squeezing Omega’s shoulder in response. Omega pulled back just enough to see his flushed face, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes still a little unfocused. Terzo lifted his face, a bit weak, but with a small smile still hiding at the corner of his lips.

“I’m alive... I think,” he murmured, voice shaky. “But you totally wrecked me. Literally. I can’t feel my legs.”

Omega let out a low chuckle, and with surprising gentleness for someone his size, he ran his fingers along Terzo’s jawline, then up to his nape, massaging it tenderly.

“Was it too deep? Did I hurt you?” he asked, and for the first time since Terzo had climbed onto his lap, there was a clear trace of concern in his eyes.

Terzo shook his head slowly.

“No… I mean… it hurt, but in a good way. I asked for it, remember?”

Omega still didn’t look satisfied.

“Tell me if it really hurt. I’m not joking,” he insisted, his eyes locked on his.

“Omega…” Terzo cupped his face in his hands. “If you’d actually hurt me, I would’ve asked you to stop. I trust you. That doesn’t change just because you call me a whore while you fuck me until I see stars.”

Omega’s expression softened. He pulled Terzo close again, pressing his face into the crook of his neck, where his skin was still warm and damp.

Still holding Terzo, Omega leaned back slowly, not letting him slip from his lap. With his free hand, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out a small bundle of folded tissues, always prepared since he’d started seeing Terzo more often.

Terzo let out a lazy groan but didn’t move. Omega parted his legs just enough, moving carefully, methodically, almost reverently. He took a tissue and started cleaning him up gently, wiping away the thick, warm cum still dripping from him—his own, always. It was an unspoken agreement between them: no condoms, no pulling out. Terzo never complained—in fact, sometimes he’d even mutter, “I want to feel it drip afterward.”

Well, maybe one day they’d actually find what they were looking for.

“Filled you up again,” Omega muttered quietly.

Terzo chuckled, resting his head on Omega’s shoulder.

“You always do. I think my body’s used to it by now. It’s like… automatic.”

The now-damp wipe was folded and tossed into a small trash bag Omega also kept in the glovebox, like this whole routine was familiar. Of course it was. Taking care of Terzo afterward had become part of the ritual.

Omega leaned in, resting his forehead against Terzo’s — but he didn’t close his eyes. Terzo might close his; he didn’t like to hold eye contact and was terrible at maintaining it. But Omega had noticed real progress lately — especially when he’d catch Terzo staring and the man didn’t look away.

But Omega didn’t want to close his eyes. He liked to look at Terzo. He was beautiful — too beautiful — like the stories about Hyacinthus, whose beauty could captivate both mortals and gods.

To Omega’s surprise, Terzo, still forehead-to-forehead with him, opened his eyes and stared right back.

•

Copia walked in through the front door, eyes a little lost and his steps hurried. In the kitchen, Primo and Secondo were busy at the stove, arguing over the bruschetta recipe. Actually, what they were arguing about was that they couldn’t substitute the buffalo mozzarella for anything else right now, so it would be polite if Secondo stopped eating them. Secondo insisted it would be the last one he took, and Primo reminded him that was the fifth time he’d said that.

Breaking up the argument, the youngest said:

"Bro, Omega’s car is still outside", Copia shouted, scratching his head, looking confused. "And that thing was practically turning into a Transformer from how much it was shaking."

Primo burst out laughing, dropping the huge knife he’d been using to threaten Secondo. Secondo let out a low chuckle, looking at Copia.

"Ah, Terzo’s more in love than he’ll admit. I’ve never seen him stick with someone, but Omega… he’s got him wrapped around his finger. We’ve been warning him, but that stubborn bastard won’t admit it", said the black-haired, short-haired brother. Recently, Secondo had cut his hair even shorter; Primo said he looked more and more like a convict every day.

The eldest Emeritus shook his head, his silky blond hair swaying, still a bit incredulous but with a crooked smile on his full lips.

" In love, huh? Who would’ve thought. That goes against everything he’s shown us so far."

The two older ones laughed in amusement, while Copia leaned against the kitchen doorway, looking a little awkward. But of course, he knew his brother was hooking up with the boyfriend — or whatever that Viking guy was. Whether Terzo admitted it or not, the youngest knew his brother was head over heels, or at least a little smitten. Lately, Terzo had been smiling a lot, seemed so light that at any moment Copia thought his brother would just fly out the window like a parakeet.

"I only went to get that seasoning from Primo’s mini herb garden, but I never imagined I’d find the car about to explode." The youngest Emeritus never thought that fetching just nine basil leaves would cost him so much.

Primo snorted, crossing his arms.

" If they’re doing that out front, I’m gonna have to complain. I don’t have the patience to see those two practically dismantling the car right on my street. In front of my house, which I invested all my money to buy and—"

"All your money?", Copia raised an eyebrow "Didn’t Nonna help too? The old lady paid for more than half."

"You get my point! I was born first, so the house is more mine than anyone else’s."

Secondo let out a giggle.

"Relax, Primo, if even Terzo is getting tied down, it’s because it’s serious. Or at least they’re having a blast."

Primo made a face, shaking his head.

" Seriously, you can’t leave those two alone in a car. I’m gonna put up a sign on the gate that says “No Fucking Allowed.”"

•

"Aren’t you going to let me go?", Terzo murmured, his face half-hidden in the wide, warm shoulder of the blond man. Even though he’d asked, the youngest didn’t really want to move, it felt so... right, being in Omega’s strong arms. He felt like a puzzle piece that someone had finally found the match for after years lost in the box. It was a feeling Terzo quickly tried to forget.

Omega chuckled softly, bringing his face closer.

"And who says I want to?", He held Terzo’s waist tightly, not planning to let go anytime soon.

Terzo made a face, his cheeks flushing, but he couldn’t hold back a small smile.

"You’re so clingy."

"Me?", Omega raised an eyebrow. " Who’s staying at my place for the fourth time this week?", He smirked, a gentle yet teasing tone, as he caressed the other’s waist. "I’m starting to think you only come here to eat."

Terzo bit his lip and, without putting too much effort into it, looked at him, playfully defiant.

"That’s right, to eat. And is it my fault you cook so well?", He gave a nervous giggle, cheeks burning. " It’s not my fault you feed me like a piglet fattening up for slaughter."

Omega laughed out loud, the sound filling the car for a moment. It was one of those moments when the world seemed silent, and only life itself played its melody, which, to Terzo, was Omega’s laughter.

"A piglet fattening up, huh?", he repeated, running his large hand through Terzo’s messy hair. "You’re so skinny I could carry you under my arm like a grocery bag."

Terzo protested, but he couldn’t hold back his laughter. He buried his face in Omega’s coat collar, trying to hide his blushing cheeks. Omega let out a small laugh, one hand moving to the nape of the younger man’s neck, his fingers brushing the little chain Terzo wore, sliding down to the warm skin of his neck. The small crescent moon pendant gleamed between Omega’s fingers as Terzo pulled back slightly.

" I see...", He looked over Terzo’s black shirt, his jeans, and his sneakers, shaking his head.

"Got all dressed up just to eat, huh?"

Terzo’s mouth fell open, indignant.

" This is the simplest outfit I own, you idiot!", His cheeks reddened even more, and he looked away, fidgeting with the rolled-up cuffs of his jeans, pretending to adjust them even though they came like that from the store. "And I didn’t dress up for you, okay?"

Omega laughed again.

" Sure...", He brushed the tip of his nose against Terzo’s face, and Terzo sighed, closing his eyes, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into the bigger man. "And on top of that, you’re so small I can barely find you in a crowd", he teased, sliding his hands under Terzo’s thighs and adjusting his weight in his lap.

Suddenly, Terzo’s eyes widened as if he’d just had a fright. He practically jumped in Omega’s lap, making Omega laugh in surprise, especially when he saw the younger man’s mismatched eyes go huge.

"What was that?" Omega asked, holding his waist tightly so he wouldn’t slip.

"I..." Terzo began, looking at the passenger seat, then the back seats, and finally outside the car, toward the house gate. "I forgot my pajamas!" He almost jumped again, leaning to get out and looking back toward the house. "Damn it, I was going to grab them before I left, but I ended up forgetting!"

Omega raised an eyebrow and let out a low laugh.

"Seriously?" He didn’t let go of Terzo, holding him tightly in his lap with those big hands.

"Of course it’s serious!" Terzo grumbled, shifting in Omega’s lap — and this time, it wasn’t to turn him on even more. Just having Terzo in his lap and kissing him always made Omega’s body react instantly, especially when they were this close. "I’m not going to sleep in jeans!" He looked back at the house, a little frantic, as if he were about to run. Just the thought of sleeping in going-out clothes made Terzo want to die. He never, ever wore outside clothes inside the house; he couldn’t even sit on the couch, let alone lie in bed, with those clothes.

Omega laughed again, shaking his head, and pulled Terzo closer, burying his face in the younger man’s neck.

"You forgot you have underwear and pajamas at my place?" he murmured, his voice low and amused. "Last time you came over, you left like three changes of clothes. And even a toothbrush."

Terzo’s eyes widened even more. "What?" He blinked rapidly, a little embarrassed. "You kept them?"

"Of course," Omega said, brushing the tip of his nose against Terzo’s cheek and chuckling softly. "I wasn’t going to throw them away, you dork. They’re all folded up."

Terzo sighed and relaxed again, resting his forehead on Omega’s broad shoulder. "Ugh, how embarrassing," he murmured, letting out a shy little laugh. "I’m practically living there already."

Omega let out a warm, full laugh. "You might as well be," he teased, ruffling Terzo’s hair. "That way you won’t forget anything."

Terzo sighed, still blushing, and settled more comfortably in Omega’s lap, shaking his head a bit awkwardly.

"Okay, okay, but we’d better get out of here before someone sees us, right?" He tried to cover it up, pretending he wanted to get back to the passenger seat. "I’ll get back to the front seat, okay…"

Omega, with a sly smile, raised an eyebrow and gave Terzo’s butt a light smack as he started to move, making him shrink back as he crossed from one seat to the other; it was a sharp, stinging smack that made the other let out a surprised yelp.

"Ow!" Terzo protested, his face turning even redder.

"You wanna go in the passenger seat…" Omega started, barely containing his laughter. "…or hanging from the rearview mirror?" he could barely finish the sentence, laughing at his own idiotic joke as if it had been the best one of the year. And to be honest, Terzo did look like a gnome keychain.

The sudden twist was so unexpected that Terzo’s eyes went wide, then he burst out laughing, red as a tomato, turning around to slap his chest, half indignant. "You idiot!" he said, still laughing. "I’m going to the front seat, okay? And you’re an idiot! I’m the right height, you jerk!"

"Right height for what? So I can put you on my lap and fuck you until you forget your way home?"

Terzo’s eyes went wide again, his mouth opening in a half-choked protest, but nothing came out except a weird sound—a mix of laughter and indignation. "I hate you, I swear!" and he plopped himself into the passenger seat, crossing his arms and sinking back into the seat.

Omega laughed out loud. "No you don’t!" He leaned in and gave a loud, smacking kiss on his soft, pinchable cheek—a trait Terzo had never outgrown from his youth. "Now put that seatbelt on before I decide to fuck you again."

As Terzo fastened the seatbelt, still pouting, he watched the car move down his street, which quickly became a distant shape, though hardly small, as Omega pulled away to take a left turn at the corner. Silence stretched on, not even music playing, which annoyed Terzo, who was still surprisingly wound up.

"And this car of yours, huh?" he teased, eyeing the clean, black dashboard, all minimalist and sober. It was exactly Omega’s style. Usually, he wasn’t flashy at all, even though his height and physique didn’t quite match the minimalist aesthetic. "Looks like a funeral car, nothing hanging from it. I’m gonna buy you a keychain to hang from the rearview mirror."

Omega glanced over momentarily while the younger one wore a sly little smile, raising his eyebrow. "A keychain? What kind of keychain?"

Terzo’s smile widened, then turned mischievous. He raised his hands to shoulder height and made an obscene gesture, like he was measuring something really big. "A big pink dick," he said, making the gesture exaggerated, like twenty centimeters. "Really flashy, one of those that glow in the dark."

Now that was a real twist. Omega let out a laugh so loud he nearly lost control of the car. Luckily, he’d buckled himself and Terzo in, otherwise they’d both have been flying out the window by now.

As the conversation calmed down, Omega slowly reached out until he found Terzo’s hand, resting on the console. It was a gentle touch, just the warmth of his skin, as if silently asking for permission. Terzo shivered slightly but didn’t pull his hand away. On the contrary, he relaxed, his shoulders dropping as if finally letting out the breath he’d been holding. His mismatched eyes shone under the glow of the streetlights and billboards, and he turned his face slightly, his mouth curling into a small, almost shy smile, pretending to look at the shops.

“You…” Terzo began in a small whisper, not sure if Omega would hear. “You always do this… and I… I don’t know how to react.” He chuckled softly.

Omega just smiled, sliding his thumb in small, calm circles over the back of Terzo’s hand. “I know,” he said, his voice low and husky, with such care that Terzo felt like crying. “And that’s okay. We’ll go at your pace, remember?”

The problem was that Terzo didn’t even know his own pace—sometimes it was like a runaway car, sometimes it was a snail struggling to move.

Sighing, Terzo squeezed his hand, and the silence that followed was fuller of feelings than any words could be, for both of them. They understood silence. The car seemed to drift slowly down the street, and everything outside blurred, as if only the two of them existed.

But the universe had other ideas.

Just as Terzo finally decided to turn on the radio with his right hand—his left still intertwined with Omega’s—the speaker blasted that cheesy, over-the-top saxophone: Careless Whisper started playing.

The sound filled the car, and Terzo’s eyes widened, his face flushing a deep red from his porcelain-like cheeks to the roots of his dark hair.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he muttered, trying to hit the button to change the song but missing it in his panic, only making the volume louder. At that point, Terzo started laughing nervously.

Even though the younger one was laughing, Omega was definitely the one having the most fun. “Look at that,” he said between laughs, managing to hide his own blush better, “the perfect soundtrack for your pink dick charm!”

Terzo lightly smacked his arm, his lips trembling from laughing so hard—and from embarrassment. “Oh, fuck off!” He laughed even louder, eyes shut, but he didn’t let go of his hand for a second.

The saxophone still echoed through the speakers, turning the car into an impromptu cabaret. The sound tickled Terzo’s ears, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or just bury himself in the seat. He clutched his seatbelt as if trying to protect himself from all that embarrassment.

“Fuck, that’s so embarrassing,” he murmured, his warm hand still in Omega’s, refusing to let go.

Omega laughed again, eyes on the road. “Relax, man, it’s just music,” he said, his voice velvet-smooth, almost a purr, and gave Terzo’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Terzo, still laughing, buried his face in his hands, bringing Omega’s hand along, and Omega used the red light as an opportunity to bury his nose in the silky dark strands of Terzo’s hair, breathing deeply. It was a sweet smell, really pleasant. No wonder Terzo’s hair was so soft and shiny too.

Deep in Omega’s chest, a strange sense of peace grew—a warm feeling of contentment. He was that now. What exactly, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t complaining for a second. The important thing was that Terzo was there, beside him, and the small, warm hand in his meant everything.

The younger one’s face was so flushed it looked like a Christmas light, his eyes tearing up from laughter, tiny crystal droplets slipping from his long lashes down to his soft cheeks, slightly marked by sharp cheekbones. Omega loved Terzo’s cheeks—they were soft and a little plump, something Terzo himself didn’t like that much but didn’t fully hate either. Omega also loved Terzo’s dimples; they were adorable.

“Hey,” Omega murmured, in a tone so low Terzo almost didn’t hear, “You’re so beautiful when you laugh like that.”

Terzo’s eyes widened, caught off guard, and the laughter died in a choked sigh. He didn’t know what to say, so he squeezed Omega’s hand tightly, his heart beating so loudly he thought the entire car could hear it. He hoped Omega wouldn’t notice.

Of course, it wasn’t unusual for Terzo to hear compliments—he was a model. His face was the product. And what a product it was. But hearing it from Omega felt different.

Omega squeezed Terzo’s hand tighter, feeling the other’s heartbeat so strong that his own heart was struggling to find a steady rhythm. And when it finally did, he felt Terzo’s pulse slow down until it matched his own, calmer.

A comfortable silence settled again.

Suddenly, Omega remembered a detail he held close to his heart, a moment from the past that lived in his memory and returned almost every day.

“You know,” he started, looking at the road, his voice low, struggling internally about whether he should say it or not, but once again, he just couldn’t keep quiet around Terzo—he liked to talk and talk and talk. “On your birthday, you said something that stuck with me.”

Terzo, still half-leaning on the seat, looked away, already worried, thinking about all the nonsense he must have said. “Me? What was it?”

Omega smiled. “You said you liked me.”

When Omega dropped that sentence, the impact was immediate and overwhelming for Terzo. It felt like someone had shocked him right in the middle of his chest, making his heart race in a frantic, almost chaotic rhythm so intense he thought he might have a heart attack right there in the car seat.

As if the surprise wasn’t enough, his face flushed a vivid, burning red, embarrassment and nerves flaring. Without thinking, he slumped into the seat, trying to disappear, shrinking, as if the upholstery might swallow him whole.

Omega regretted it the moment he saw panic bloom on Terzo’s face. His hands, which had been firm and intertwined with Omega’s, trembled and slipped away, landing discreetly on his lap, almost like he was trying to build an invisible barrier between them. Suddenly, having his hands just for himself became a necessity.

So Omega waited. Because he knew Terzo’s world worked differently, and that respecting that time was the right way to care for what was starting to grow between them. He had always known how to respect Terzo’s space, since the very first time he’d seen him come in, more suffocated than a cat in a sealed sack, into that huge kitchen. He didn’t understand what had brought Terzo there, but he was grateful for the instincts that led the younger one, unconsciously, to that place where Omega had been working all evening, his mind blank in the worst way—bored until a certain young man walked in.

Terzo, still sunken into the seat, took a deep breath trying to collect himself, feeling the heat on his face slowly fading, while a mixture of fear and something sweet bloomed in that so full and confused chest. He stayed there, half-hunched, his face still warm, his eyes avoiding Omega’s. The heavy silence made it feel like any word might shatter everything into a thousand pieces.

Omega wanted to apologize, but he knew it would only make things worse for Terzo. Besides, he didn’t see the point in apologizing for what he’d said—only for how it hit the younger one.

After what felt like an eternity, Terzo finally tried to speak, his voice low, a bit shaky and tangled: “It’s just... I... like... on my birthday, I didn’t mean to say that I... I mean, I liked you like that... like... romantically... that wasn’t it... it’s just that you make me feel comfortable... you know? Different from the others...”

He stumbled over the words, like he was speaking a foreign language.

“I like you...” he let out, almost a whisper, but to his own ears it felt like he’d shouted in the middle of the silence. It was too loud a whisper for Terzo’s mind.

“But I don’t really know what that means, you know? Like, it’s not easy, it’s confusing, it’s a lot of things all at once...”

He slumped even more and buried his face in his hands, looking like a lost fool in the middle of the city, unsure where to look.

Omega, on the other side, could only look at him and try not to laugh too loud—a laugh full of affection and amusement, but disguised so as not to startle Terzo.

"You’re such a disaster, you know that?", he teased, still with a soft smile.

"No, seriously, it’s the cutest thing in the world seeing you all tangled up like that."

Terzo, still with his hands over his face, heard that and turned red again, only managing to shake his head in embarrassment, but also a bit happy that the teasing wasn’t too harsh.

As soon as he parked the car in his own spot at the building’s parking lot, Omega reached out, gently placing his hand on Terzo’s shoulder and then sliding it down to his arm, in a touch so light it felt like a breeze.

"Come here", Omega called softly, pulling Terzo’s face with his other hand, just enough to make him remove his hands from his face and look at him. However, Terzo didn’t meet his eyes, his gaze fixed on his own lap.

"I get it", Omega’s voice was so serene that Terzo actually relaxed, now less tense.

" And you don’t need to rush or even know what you’re feeling right now."

Terzo blinked a few times, his whole body feeling warm, like his blood was about to explode through his skin.

Without wanting to force anything, Omega took Terzo’s hand and interlaced their fingers, respecting the limit of touch—if the younger one pulled away, he wouldn’t insist. But fortunately, Terzo allowed it. A comforting warmth spread between them as Omega watched the younger man stare at their intertwined hands. Omega smiled when it was Terzo who took the initiative to gently stroke the back of his hand with his thumb, even though he was still insecure.

Terzo took a deep breath, trying to calm the heart that insisted on beating so fast. The comfortable silence between them felt almost sacred, but his stomach took the opportunity to let out a loud growl, and his eyes widened, still red, but now with a hint of good humor on his face.

"Okay… and… ", he swallowed hard, adjusting his posture in the seat, his fingers still intertwined with Omega’s. "What… what are you going to make for dinner tonight?"

Omega let out a playful little laugh and raised his eyebrows theatrically:

"Ah, but what an important question, Terzo!", he said, full of pomp, his voice playful.

"Tonight there’s going to be mushroom risotto and, for dessert, petit gâteau with vanilla ice cream."

Terzo’s eyes widened in absolute delight, his mouth slightly open as if he’d just discovered Santa Claus was real.

"Petit gâteau?!", He practically bounced in his seat, his face lighting up.

Omega laughed out loud, his chest warming with happiness. He gave Terzo’s hand a little affectionate squeeze, taking the opportunity to admire the spontaneous and sweet way he was.

"I think I’ll have to make petit gâteau for you every day if that’s the case", he teased, still laughing.

Terzo laughed too, his eyes sparkling, and shook his head, still a bit shy but unable to hide his joy.

"Don’t spoil me too much, okay?"

"Now you’re telling me that?"

•

Secondo was holding a bruschetta in his hand, a bruschetta for which the bread had taken about twenty minutes just to be sliced.

" Damn, this bread’s been in the cupboard for like three months, right? I swear it felt like a rock even before it went in the oven."

Primo snorted:

"Come on, man, don’t make a fuss, I thought it’d soften with the heat", but when he took the first bite, he felt a sharp pain in his jaw. Oh yes, his temporomandibular disorder flaring up full force because of a piece of bread. Wonderful.

Copia laughed, tossing the almost untouched piece back on the plate, unlike the teeth still in his mouth.

"Crunchy? You mean cretaceous?"

Primo snorted again, pointing the huge knife straight at Secondo’s face, with a seriously unfriendly look:

" Ma vaffanculo! You ate all the buffalo mozzarella before I finished assembling it! Now we’re stuck eating old, dry bread like Nonna’s asshole?!"

Secondo made an innocent face, raising his hands:

"Dude, I was hungry, that’s got nothing to do with me!"

"You said it was going to be the last one!"

"And you trusted me?!", Secondo looked genuinely shocked. The size of his brother’s knife didn’t scare him anymore after the third threat to be slaughtered like a chicken for Sunday lunch. "And anyway! Where did you buy this bread? Did you steal it from the Last Supper?"

"Ah, so Primo was without his glasses", Copia said, licking the tomato sauce off the top of the bread, the only edible thing Primo made that night. " Went to steal bread and ended up stealing a splinter of the table wood instead."

"Well, at least I admit I need glasses", said the older Emeritus, then looked accusingly at Secondo.

"You need some shame, you old bastard! Never seen anyone keep bread for so long and still think it’s edible!"

" Did you steal that old bread from the walls of the Colosseum?", Copia raised an eyebrow, making his older brother snort again.

"I don’t hear any compliments!"

"Oh, you want compliments?", Secondo tried to bite the bread but failed, then found himself sucking the crust with sauce, just like Copia, then pulled his mouth away again.

"Beautiful brick!"

Just for research, Copia took the bread and banged it on the table. And the bread didn’t break.

" Damn!"

"I’m telling you!", exclaimed Secondo.

"This thing is going to get termites!"

[yonemurishiroku]

Nico di Angelo:

❌Sic a zombie on your enemies

✅Sic your personal traumas' personification/ inner demons on your enemies

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

In which Damian isn't very fond of Tim, but they lowkey (highkey) start getting closer because he finds out Tim has fed and named a bunch of street cats around his apartment. Their bond is held together by a bunch of ratty old cats.

Tim, opening the door: "Damian? What're you doing here?"

Damian: "I request Michael's location."

Tim: "He should be sitting on the fire escape two floors down."

Damian, already pushing his way into the apartment and to the window: "Thank you Drake!"

Tim will occasionally see Damian outside his building just sitting in a pile of cats- and sometimes even Jerry the racoon- and takes pictures to send to the boy later. He makes sure to update him with what's going on with the cats.

Damian, talking on the phone: "Yes, yes, I see. And Persephone? She is well?"

Dick: "Dami, who are you talking to at" *Checks watch* "11pm? You should be asleep right no-"

Damian, turning to him and holding up a finger: "Shush, Grayson." *Turns back* "Did Jerry come by? And what ever happened to Beatrice's eye?"

Dick: 'Who does he even talk to besides Bruce and I?? When did he get friends? When did he get so caring of them? Why am I so out of the loop??'

Later, Dick snoops through his room and finds a bunch of pictures with him surrounded by ugly cats and sometimes raccoon, and is familiar with the building they're taken at. He immediately face palms because that makes perfect sense.

[invincibledc]

“Just a little guy…”

RACCOON!READER X slighty yandere? ROBINS!BATBOYS

Summary: a little rascal comes into in a bunch of boy’s lives. 

There you are, hissing at some kids that are teens to pre teens. “Standing” on all four of your human limbs with your raccoon tail and ears perked up.

Apparently, the 14 year old Damian took you from the dumpster and showed you to the others who apparently screamed seeing a young hybrid of a human and raccoon.

You screamed back before scratching Damian. The brown skinned boy let you go as you ran around messing up the manor up.

Damian looked at the scratch in admiration. You scratched him but he took as you just showing affection as he rushed after you. “Come back!! I wanna pet you!” “Dames no!” Dick(17) yells as he rushes after his younger brother.

Tim(15) and Jason(16) look at each other before running off towards the other two and some crazed child.

Damian was giggling manically as dick was hot on his tail while praying that Alfred doesn’t come around the corner. You started to hop around as you ran into the kitchen and climbed the counter with a bit of effort.

“No! Get down you.. whatever you are!” Dick says yelling at you. You hiss as you swat with your sharp nail like claws. “Me no! Me rule!” You said in weird phrases. Damian bull rushed dick to fall on the ground as he puts his hand out. “Don’t worry about him. Come to me!”

You glare with your ears a little flat against your head. “No.”

Damian frowns as Tim and Jason come into the kitchen. “Yo! Get your stinky ass feet off the counter you homeless little shit!” Jason yells, pointing at you who hisses at him. Jason scrunches up his face and rolls his sleeves.

“Guess we’re doin' this the hard way.” Tim just pats Jason’s back as comfort. “Get em.” As this was going on, Dick finally gets up rubbing his head with a concerned expression. “Be careful, it may have rabies.”

You glare at those tan arms of Jason’s with small scars. You didn’t like how close he was getting to you. Damian was glaring at Jason, daring him to make the slightest aggression towards you.

Before you could jump off the counter and dash off, Jason grabbed you into his arms. “Gotcha!” “No! No! Unhand me! Hand off! Handsss!!!” You screeched as you try to claw at him. He used one arm to hold you down while his other was using his hands to cuff your wrists down.

“Phew..” dick says clutching his shirt as Tim could only take a picture of this. “This.. was an eventful afternoon.” Jason turns around smug, happy to hold you down. “Hah! And this little one thought it could just mess with us.” Damian scrunches his nose. “Hey! Be careful with them…” as Damian goes to walk towards you. Dick puts a stern hold onto his shoulder.

“Damian, you need to stop bringing in animals. YKNOW how dad is.” Damian rolls his eyes before crossing his hands. “That’s not an animal, that’s a potential friend in the making.” Dick and Damian look at you still going ape shit in the tanned teen’s arms.

“Yeah no, it looks like you kidnapped a furry kid from the streets.” Tim says as Damian glares at him. “Actually from a dumpster for your knowledge.” “That’s not better you demon.”

After calming you down, you were cleaned by Damian and given a big shirt from Jason. You sat on the couch eating crackers, kicking your feet back and forth. You smiled while munching on the delicious crackers with slight salt on it. The four boys look at you before looking at each other.

“We can’t just keep them here!” Dick says

“Why not!?” Damian exclaimed, gritting his teeth.

“Uh hello, they’re some random meta.. or whatever they are… plus dad wouldn’t let Damian keep another 'pet' unless he wants to be grounded.” Tim says as he stares at Damian then to dick.

“Right.” Jason says lastly.

As the four brothers turn to look at you, they can’t help but stare at how adorable you are. You lick your small hands with a small smile, rubbing your belly and looking at them as if you didn’t just want to claw their eyes out.

“…okay maybe we can keep them.” Dick says with soft eyes. You looked so cute with those soft chubby cheeks. Looking better without that much dirt on your face and that angry stare for the past minutes of chasing you.

“I call dibs on clothing them!” Damian says as Tim nudges him. “We’re not callin dib—”

“I call dibs on feeding them.” Jason says nonchalantly, putting his hands into his pockets. Tim looks at his older brother in shock as Jason just shrugs.

“What? The rascal is actually cute when it’s not trying to claw our eyes out.”

Tim sighs as dick could only chuckle. “I guess… i call dibs on their speech impediment…”

Dick pats Tim who is slightly flustered as he crosses his arms. “Then i suppose im the one that calls dibs on hiding them and having them in my room.” Dick says with a smile.

The other three erupted in yells.

“That’s not fair!! I found them first!”

“Just cause you’re the oldest doesn’t mean shit!”

“Over our dead bodies!”

You can guess who said who as you just wiggled off the couch and walked over to them. The big shirt making your walking a little wonky as you looked at the black haired boys and pull on the one with the fringe.

“M-Mo-more. More.” You said as you pulled his shirt and point to your mouth. Tim turns to look at you, for a second he felt an arrow hit through his heart before he picked you up and ran.

Seeing this, the other three boys stared flabbergasted before Damian yells pointing out.

“He’s getting away!!!!”

Jason smirks and runs, “First one to get them back lets them room with them!” He yells as he was on the go.

Dick and Damian were running as well.. and the chase was on.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Leon Kennedy General Dating Headcanons

🌙 His sarcastic quips do not stop at all when you two start dating. He has dad jokes at the ready no matter the occassion. It really gets him when he sees you try to beat back a smile.

🌙 He's a very good cook which shocked you when he invited you to his house for dinner. He didn't seem the type at the time, but he put out a beautiful and delicious meal. The only thing he can't do is bake for the life of him. Even the ready made cookie dough that just needs to be baked burns with him. It's an enigma.

🌙 He's a complete mix of the golden retirever and black cat tropes. He's all sweet and loving while being so sassy sarcastic. He balances both so well in your relationship.

🌙 He really makes an effort to be close with your family if you're still with them. He didn't have one for long growing up from his traumatic past, but it's really important that your own family accepts him. If you don't talk to your family much anymore, he's not going to stress or ask questions.

🌙 On the topic of his traumatic past, he often has horrible nightmares that wakes him up in a cold sweat. Raccoon City, Spain, it all still weighs on his shoulders despite putting on a brave face for you.

🌙 He often has a reoccuring nightmare that you somehow get infected with whatever sick virus and turn into a zombie. Those really stick with him throughout the day and really gets him to think: Could he actually pull the trigger?

🌙 He doesn't do it often anymore, but every once in a while he will drink too much just to forget about it all for awhile. He's since heavily slowed down since dating you. He doesn't like the thought of you worrying about him or even being disgusted by him when he's drunk and depressed, but there are days where it's all just too much.

🌙 He constantly keeps you updated when he's out on duty. He hates keeping you in the dark, especially when he's away for long periods of time. If he can't message you, he has Hunnigan do it for him. It's very rare to not get at least one message a day from him just to let you know that he's alive.

🌙 He likes it when you react well to him being all dressed up. Tug on his tie, snap his suspenders, let your hands linger on his blazer a little too long. He loves the tease, it riles him up and really makes the time fly, especially when he's in a meeting with government officials.

🌙 He loves having his hair toyed with. Whether you're gently scraping your nails against his scalp, brushing his bangs out of his face to look into those pretty eyes, wrapping his dirty blonde locks around your fingers. He loves it all.

🌙 Whenever he gets home, he always does the same thing. He opens and shuts the door behind him, drops his bags to the floor and opens him arms as you run right into them. Wrapping his arms tightly around you, you both just stay there for a few minutes, but it really just feels like forever to him.

🌙 He loves going on car rides with you, especially ones that can last for hours. He'll never get tired of them. He's really loves it when he holds your hand as he's driving, occassionally bring it up to kiss at it while keeping his eyes on the road.

🌙 Acts like he's not a fan of the cop puns and jokes, but he really is. Despite being a police officer for only one day- and that day involved a bunch of zombies and an apocolyptic city- he was still a cop officially for one day. Something about the way you call him "Officer Kennedy" just gets him going.

🌙 He listens to divorced dad rock. Sorry, but I don't make the rules. At first it started out as a joke but it really just became something he comfortably listens to.

🌙 He can never bring work home with him, especially reports that need to be filled out and brought back asap. He just gets too distracted by you. Even if he holes himself up in his office, just the sight of you innocently passing by his door with a load of laundry at your hip makes him suddenly want to help with the laundry.

🌙 He introduces you to Claire and she is honestly dumbfounded that Leon managed to catch and keep someone with as stupid of a personality he has. She is so excited to meet you though. She then proceeds to tell you about some embarassing moments about Leon when she met him Raccoon City.

🌙 Ada doesn't really show her face when you're around, but you do know of her. Leon was completely open and honest about her and answered all of your questions truthfully.

🌙 He has a shameless love for Agatha Christie and Michael Connelly. Say what you want, Leon loves them and often can be found reading them in the night while he tries to drift off.

🌙 He's not a fan of cop shows, though. He turns his nose at the thought. But medical dramas? Leon will eat that shit up- House is his favorite. He steals some snarky remarks from that show.

🌙 Loves it when you smell like him. You first had to use his cologne when you were out of your own body spray. It was just an innocent thing he did, but it became something that he loves doing. Every so often, Leon will mist your clothes in the closet with his cologne just a bit so the smell lingers but isn't overpowering.

🌙 The handsome hunk of man is really good with personal hygiene and taking care of himself. Moisturized skin, conditioned hair, hydrated lips. It all makes up for it when he sometimes has to go days, even weeks with bathing. He really does hate the smell of B.O.

🌙 He can be very persuasive with you when he wants to be. Leon has a silver tongue and he knows it. He often uses it when he wants to do something very personal with you. He gives you those dreamy eyes and speaks to you in a low voice. It's almost hypnotic.

[happyhauntt]

a touch of colour — eddie diaz.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: eddie and chris' home is freakishly empty. you decide to redecorate a little.

─── pairing: eddie diaz x reader.

─── warnings & notes: fluffy fluff. no use of y/n, this was just supposed to be a short drabble but it ran aay from me and eddie might seem a little ooc but i don't even care it's so cute.

─── word count: 2.7k.

     “BUCK, CAN I BORROW YOUR KEY to Eddie’s place, please?”

     Your arrival at the station house isn’t preceded by any warning, and though it isn’t your intention to sneak up on Buck, he doesn’t seem to hear you coming. A panicked shriek tears itself from his throat as he drops what he’s holding, and the spray bottle full of cleaning fluid clatters to the floor at your feet.

     An amused smile curls at your lips as he tries to play it off, ducking his head to hide the embarrassment blossoming in bright red spots across his cheeks.

     “Uh, hey.” The words stumble out of Buck and he coughs, trying to recover what remains of his dignity. “You know, sneaking up on people isn’t good for your health. What if I’d panicked and thrown a punch or something?”

     You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You did panic, Buck. Seems like it’s worse for your health than mine. Key, please?”

     “Eddie’s just up in the loft, I can grab him if you want.”

     It’s your turn to look a little sheepish. “Please don’t. It’s a surprise. Or it will be a surprise, if you let me borrow your key. I’ll return it tomorrow, I promise, and I’m not going to let a bunch of raccoons loose in there or anything━”

     Buck blinks. The hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, just enough to let you know that he’s teasing. Mostly. “I wasn’t worried, but now I am.”

     “I’m saving the raccoons for your apartment, actually,” you tell him, and now you’re not even really asking anymore, know that Buck will inevitably break because you’re Eddie’s girlfriend, and he actually likes you, and most importantly, his insatiable curiosity will not allow him to deny you. Hand outstretched, you wiggle your fingers expectantly. “Key, please.”

     He huffs at you as if you’ve asked him to scale Mount Everest in nothing but swim trunks, rather than the perfectly reasonable request you’ve actually made, and makes a show of tugging the key to Eddie’s house off the keyring before passing it along to you.

     “I have only one condition,” says Buck, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he presses the key into your palm.

     You watch him warily. You’ve been dating Eddie, and subsequently been acquainted with Buck, long enough to recognise that look. “What?”

     “Whatever you’re doing, make sure you film his reaction. I’ve got a funny feeling he’s gonna freak out.”

     A nervous laugh bubbles in your throat, and you can’t help rolling your lips together as you pocket the key. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Eddie Diaz isn’t overly fond of surprises, but… fuck, you hope this one goes down well.

      “I’ll keep you posted, Buck.” You offer him a two-fingered salute and turn on your heel, hurrying out of the firehouse before Eddie catches you sneaking around.

      What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?

     Here’s the thing.

     The first time Eddie invited you back to his place, you hadn’t really seen it. A euphoric haze had clouded all rational thought in your brain, because this brilliant guy you’d fallen head over heels for was so obviously guarded, and you’d been so happy the day he’d kissed you and invited you back to his place for coffee.

     You’d been dating for three months by that point, and you’d wandered in and out of his house without really seeing anything except for him.

     Meeting Christopher had gone much the same way. On the drive over you’d been rattling with nerves so much that you’d had to pull over on the freeway and shake out the cramp in your hand after white-knuckling the steering wheel. Your heart had thudded so hard in your chest that you worried Eddie would be able to hear it from the other side of the room.

     There had been nothing to worry about, in the end, and almost a year on, you’re certain that neither of these boys can be pried out of the space they’ve created in your heart. Somehow, without really noticing, the pair of them have made a home there, built on a foundation of blood and muscle and all the love in your body.

     You’re not sure your heart would know how to beat without them now.

      And you love them, you love them, you love them both with everything you have…

     … but this damn house is driving you insane.

     There’s nothing wrong with it, in particular. It’s small and functional, perfect for the little family it shelters. Beige walls, basic furniture, sparse decorations that Eddie definitely had nothing to do with, and that’s sort of… it.

     Now, you’re not an interior decorator, and you’d managed to miss it the first few times you visited, but now it’s like the blank walls are mocking you. Now you’ve seen it, you know, and the stark bleakness of this house has become a glaringly obvious problem that you’ve finally decided to tackle.

     Unlocking the door with Buck’s key, you manage to nudge it open with your hip, hands and wrists weighed down with Target shopping bags that you dump on the floor the moment the door is closed. Tucking Buck’s key back into your pocket ━ Eddie gave you a key almost six months ago, but you’ve managed to lose four of them since, so it’s widely agreed that it’s best you borrow Eddie’s or Buck’s or Carla’s whenever you need to ━ you turn to the sparse open space of the kitchen/diner.

     Hands settling on your hips, a slow breath escapes through your teeth as you survey the house. Christopher’s room is the only one with any personality, and you wouldn’t dare intrude on his privacy in that way anyway. Eddie’s room, similarly, feels off-limits.

     But the rest of the house? Fair game.

     When Eddie stumbles through the front door at the end of his shift, he doesn’t notice it right away. Not your bag hanging on a hook by the door, or your shoes tucked neatly against the wall. His head feels like it’s filled with cotton after a twelve-hour shift, and he’s simply grateful that Carla offered to drop Christopher off later, rather than have Eddie come pick him up after his shift.

     He doesn’t notice you lingering in the kitchen with a bottle of beer in your hand until you clear your throat, and then he looks over, and a tired smile spreads over his face.

     “That for me?” he asks, as hold out the beer bottle towards him, drops of condensation soaking your fingers.

     “It’s definitely not for me.” You wrinkle your nose playfully as he accepts the drink, and you lean over the counter to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You hand over Buck’s key, and with it, all the anxiety you’ve felt since it first landed in your possession that morning. “Give this back to Buck for me? If I lose another one, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

     Eddie chuckles and tucks the key into his pocket. “Buck didn’t mention you came by the firehouse.”

     “I asked him not to.” Your voice wavers, just a little. The way you’re picking at a loose bit of skin near your thumb lets him know you’re nervous, and he reaches out with his free hand, curling rough fingers around your own. Unable to help yourself, a deluge of words start to babble out of you. “I did a thing. And I’m aware that you may not like the thing, and it almost certainly wasn’t my place which I’m realising now, but it seemed like a pretty harmless idea at the time?”

     “Baby━”

     “And if you hate it, I can take it all away! We can pretend I never did it, it’s just that your walls were driving me freaking insane, like which decorator decided that beige was a good base colour because I would like to have a word━”

     “Hey!” A gentle squeeze of your hand grabs your attention, and when you look back at Eddie, the sight of him knocks the breath of you. You never knew eyes could be so big and brown and full of love, and even though there’s a little humour glinting in there at your expense, you still find it a little difficult to breathe.

     Fuck, you love this man.

     “What am I supposed to hate, exactly?” There’s a lilt of laughter in his voice, a gentle quirk to the corner of his mouth.

     You want to kiss him until it blossoms into a full-blown grin. You hope you’re lucky enough to make this man laugh forever.

     The look on his face helps to ease the tension in your shoulders. Slowly, you reach out and take the beer bottle from his grip, setting it on the counter. Instead, you replace it with your own hand, threading your fingers through his, a little chilly where the bottle pressed against his skin.

     “Let me show you.”

     Guiding him by the hand, you lead him through to the living room, and at first, he’s not sure what’s changed. There’s still the couch, and the TV, and the coffee table he knows you’ve always hated because it’s glass, and who has a glass coffee table, Eddie, you're a firefighter and this feels like a recipe for disaster!

     (You’ve seen way too many movies where characters end up crashing through a glass coffee table but you still think it’s a valid point.)

     And then he sees them.

     He spots the first one next to the television; a picture of Chris from a few months ago, the first time all three of you went to the beach together. He’s grinning at the camera and there’s a dab of ice-cream on his nose from where you swiped him just a moment before. Eddie remembers taking this and sending it to you.

     It wasn’t the first moment he realised he loved you, not by a long shot, but he hadn’t said it yet, and that day on the beach had cemented your place in his heart even further.

     The picture is small, sitting in a quirky silver frame that you’ve glued a few seashells to.

     The next two are over on the mantel. A photograph of the 118 in Bobby and Athena’s backyard last summer; Bobby’s frowning in the foreground, having been bullied into wearing a Kiss The Cook apron by Buck and Hen, while the rest of them are howling with laughter behind him. The other is a picture of Christopher and Shannon cuddled together beneath the Christmas tree.

     Tucked between them, bizarrely, is a little wooden figurine of a runner duck wearing galoshes. This one, he knows, came from your personal collection.

     Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest as he turns, finally, to the big thing. The wall behind the couch has always been depressingly bare, a dull expanse of beige paint that he’s always sworn he’d do something with, eventually.

     Hell, the whole house is bare. And depressing. This, he’s ready to admit, even if the reason for it used to sting a little bit.

     Before now, the only personal touches in his home belonged to Christopher. Report cards and drawings stuck to the fridge with kitschy magnets from tourist spots. An ever-changing pile of video games stacked on the floor next to the TV. A dinosaur-print throw that was dragged from Christopher’s bedroom on a lazy Sunday that hasn’t quite managed to migrate back there yet.

     It was never that way on purpose. At first, he thinks, it was a reluctance to put down roots. Life was hectic enough, with his work schedule and Christopher switching schools. Before Carla, Eddie hardly had a moment to breathe, let alone think about decorating their home beyond the bare minimum required to get by.

     And then, he thinks, it might have been guilt.

     He doesn’t dare to dwell on that for too long. He feels your hand in his own, steady as a rock, and stares, glassy-eyed, at the wall you’ve managed to transform into something… something that feels like home.

     A collage of wooden picture frames are scattered over the surface of the wall, in varying hues of warmth that contrast nicely with the beige that peeks through the cracks. A beige that, formerly, kind of made him want to scratch his eyes out. He hadn’t quite realised that until now.

     Dozens of smiling faces peer down at him. A handful of memories he holds most dear, and each of them sends a flush of warmth through his chest.

     There’s the day Chris was born, and he’s staring at this tiny baby in his arms as if he’s holding the sun and stars themselves. There’s Buck and Chris at the zoo, posing near the penguin exhibit. There’s Eddie, on the day he was certified as a full-fledged member of the LAFD, shaking Bobby’s hand. There’s even a picture where he’s fallen asleep on the couch, and his sisters are brandishing Sharpies like the little demons they are, drawing a moustache and beard that took days to properly fade away.

     It’s such a little thing, really. They’re just pictures. But his throat feels tight and his eyes are wet and it doesn’t feel little to him. Not at all.

     “You thought I’d hate this?” He’ll never admit that the words come out a little choked up.

     You shrug. “You’re not a fan of surprises.”

     “I might be now.”

     And you both know it’s not true, that Eddie will never be that guy, but this is fine. This is perfect, and he’s damn sure it might be the nicest thing any girlfriend’s ever done for him.

     He turns to you, a thousand more questions on the tip of his tongue, when he notices you’re holding your phone up with your free hand. A confused furrow appears between his brows.

     “Buck,” you tell him, and it really doesn’t require further explanation, but still you add, “He thought you’d freak out. Asked for evidence.”

     “Ah.” Eddie nods. You put your phone away as he winds his arms around your waist, pulling you close enough to kiss the tip of your nose. “I’m not freaking out.”

     “I noticed.”

     “Thank you,” he says, and kisses you again. This time his mouth slides against yours and lingers there for a few seconds, slow and gentle. “I can’t help but notice you’re not in any of the pictures.”

     Your cheeks turn a rosy pink. “That would have been a little presumptuous of me, Mr. Diaz. And I was already hijacking your home for my own selfish agenda, so…”

     “Wanna hijack it some more?”

     The question slips out without any warning, and you blink up at your boyfriend in bewilderment. “Uh?”

     Eddie smiles, wide and wonderful, and even though it’s not possible to fall more in love with him, you think you do.

     “I talked to Chris about it a while ago,” he tells you, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your hip. “I was just waiting for the right time to ask you. And then you went all House Flipper anyway━”

     “I did not go all House Flipper!”

     “━ so it feels like the right time to ask.”

     You watch him for a moment, all soft at the edges. “You want me to move in with you?”

     “I think you’ve got a tartan throw that would look great in here,” he says teasingly, “and that little duck is part of a collection. He might get lonely.”

     “He might,” you concede with a hum.

     There is enough space on that mantel for the whole family.

     You feel like there’s a tiny sun in your chest, like you might honest-to-God be glowing from the inside out right now, and when you pull Eddie down so you can kiss him again, you know without a doubt that the answer is yes.

     There are a hundred things to figure out. You have a lease to get out of, and an apartment filled with enough clutter to furnish ten houses, and you’ve really got to figure out a solution for the key situation, because it’s getting ridiculous.

     But in this moment, none of that matters. It’s you, and Eddie, and Chris, and a bare apartment suddenly filled with a lifetime of potential, and you just know everything is going to be fine.

     And you hope, for a moment, that he’ll let you replace the couch next.

[angels-fantasy]

Sweet Confessions

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Description : After a night out with friends, Bakugou decides to tell you something while you two are eating sweet pastries.

Details : 1.8k words, friends to lovers, cussing, reader and bakugou are over 21! readers looks are not specified in any way, but she is a woman. small mention of alcohol.

this is my first fanfic ever, so please be kind! constructive criticism is welcome :)

When Bakugou received a text message from Kirishima inviting him out to eat with the bunch of other idiots, he immediately declined. Though this was nothing new, and it was something his red-haired friend was already expecting. Which is why he had Mina execute plan b.

Raccoon Eyes

Yo Bakugou! Come out with us tonight. You're always locked away in your apartment. Let loose a little!

Bakugou glared at his phone and typed out a message.

Hell no.

UGH BAKUGOU!! You're literally no fun. I can't believe you'd miss out on the opportunity to see this cutie -.-

A few seconds later, a picture was sent. When Bakugou opened it, he saw that it was a picture of you. He brought his phone closer to his face and looked it over carefully. He noticed you were dressed for the occasion, like everyone else in the background, and you were smiling widely at the camera. Mina probably told you to pose.

He must've been looking at your photo for too long because another text from Mina came in.

You drooling or what lover boy? Hurry up and get here so you can make a move already. We all know you like her 🙄.

Bakugou felt his face flush. It was true, he did have a crush on you. And though he never verbally admitted it to anyone, they all saw right through him. Except you, of course.

He clicked his tongue and typed up a quick response before beginning to get ready.

Shut up. I'll be there in 30.

"Woo! We got him!" Mina cheered, leaning across the table to high-five Kirishima.

You looked between them suspiciously, "What are you guys plotting?"

The pink woman had the audacity to look nervous. "Nothing! Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, okay."

As Mina and Kirishima kept whispering to each other, you squirmed in your seat. You knew the other pro heroes at the table fairly well, but not enough to just strike up a conversation like you would with Mina.

"Hey pretty, what do you look so nervous for?"

You turned to the left and were faced with a yellow haired man.

"Oh, hi Kaminari. I'm not nervous, just hungry. They're taking a little long to bring out the food. Don't you think?" You lied.

Thankfully he was kind of an airhead. "Oh yeah I know right! I'm starving. I'm gonna go ask how much longer!" He said and got up out of his seat, leaving you alone again.

You sighed and took a sip of your drink. Since Mina and Kirishima were too busy talking to each other, and you didn't want to bother talking to anyone else you decided to scroll mindlessly on your phone.

Some time later, the empty seat next to you was pulled out and sat in by Bakugou himself.

Your ears got hot at the sight of him. It wasn't the first time you'd met him, you two were good friends after all. But you never got used to how handsome he was. It was like he got better looking everyday. You began to wonder what he looks like under that button up-

"Hey nightlight, what're you staring at huh?" He asked, snapping you out of your trance.

"Shut up! I told you to stop calling me that." You said with false annoyance.

"It ain't my fault your quirk makes you a nightlight." He smirked. You scrunched your nose to hide your laugh, but unknowingly failed since Bakugou still saw it.

His nickname for you was completely harmless, and came from your quirk which allowed you to produce light from your hands. It wasn't anything comparable to a pro hero's quirk, but it did have its uses.

"Kacchan you made it!" Midoriya exclaimed with his big smile.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, "Shut it nerd, or else I'll leave. Give me a menu, yeah?"

Midoriya laughed off his words and passed him a menu, used to his harsh way of speaking.

Dinner went on without any problems, and the food was delicious. Everyone around the table cracked jokes, brought up old memories, and some people had even began drinking alcohol, including you.

Your drink wasn't very strong, but the few you had was enough to have you a little tipsy. Thankfully, you took an uber to the restaurant, so you didn't have to worry about driving.

During dinner, you and Bakugou engaged in a conversation. Mostly about his hero work and the villains he had caught recently.

Once everyone finally finished their food and drinks, they had all begun to leave. Slowly leaving one by one, some in pairs as well.

While you grabbed your stuff, you got on your phone to call for an uber but got interrupted by Bakugou talking to you.

"How you gettin' home nightlight? You better not even think about driving after drinking." He warned.

You brushed him off, "I'm taking an uber, don't worry!"

He grunted in agreement and was silent for a moment before saying, "I'll give you a ride home. C'mon."

"No it's okay! I can just take the uber home. Besides, didn't you drink too?"

"Hell no I didn't. It's not my thing. Just hurry up and accept my offer alright? This is the only time I'll be this nice."

You smiled at his words, knowing he was lying when he said this was the only time he'd be nice.

"Alright then, let's go!"

He smirked and held out a hand for you to hold, which you did while he walked you to his car. He made sure you didn't fall on the way there, and even opened the door for you.

"Wow what a gentleman you are. Do you open doors for all the ladies?" You teased.

"Nah, so consider it special treatment for you Nightlight."

You smiled shyly and wiggled your feet a bit after he shut your door and got into his own seat.

The ride to your house was quiet, except for the occasional small talk. But it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. It was a comforting feeling for the both of you.

When he pulled up to your place, you turned to him to say goodbye, but instead you said "Um, do you wanna come inside with me? I have some pastries I made earlier..."

He laughed lightly at your words, "Sure, but be ready for me to critique the hell out of those pastries."

You led him inside where you both took off your shoes and coats. You ushered him to sit on the couch and relax while you went to go prepare some drinks and the pastries for the two of you.

While you were gone for a few minutes, Bakugou couldn't help but think about how he was actually inside your house. It wasn't the first time he'd been there, but it was the first time he'd been there alone. Just you and him.

In the midst of his thinking, he felt his phone buzz and he looked at it to see a message from Kirishima.

Shitty Hair

I see you left with your little nightlight ;) Better make a move while you have the chance!!

Bakugou huffed and sent a middle finger emoji, then silenced his phone. He didn't need any distractions.

Finally, you came from the kitchen with a tray in your hands and placed it on the coffee table.

"Here they are! My babies. I hope they're still good, considering they're not as fresh as they were this morning." You said nervously while sitting down next to him.

Bakugou hummed and grabbed a pastry, biting into it. You watched silently as he chewed and swallowed it, anticipating his reaction.

He bit it again, "S' good."

You smiled, "I'm glad you like it. That means a lot coming from you, Bakugou. Your cooking is so good!"

He turned away with a red face, "Of course it is. I'm the best at everything. And why don't you call me Katsuki? We've known each other for years now."

"Oh, I didn't realize you felt that way. Sorry Baku-erm, Katsuki. I just thought you didn't want anyone to call you that, especially since Kirishima doesn't even call you that..."

"Tsk, I feel a lot of ways. You just don't know about it."

Your interest peaked at his words. "Oh yeah? Then would you do the honors by telling me how you feel Katsuki?" You teased.

Bakugou felt himself hesitate before speaking, which is something he never did. Gosh, he couldn't believe this is how he was going to confess to you.

"I like you, idiot."

Your smile fell and your expression formed into one of pure confusion. "What?"

Damn. Maybe that wasn't the right move.

He began to panic and sat up quickly, "Ugh, nothing. Forget about it-"

"No! I'm not forgetting about that." You said while grabbing his hand, pulling him back down onto the couch.

As he sat down next to you in silence, you kept his hand in yours. "You like me Katsuki?"

He huffed and turned away. "So what if I do? It doesn't matter-"

You grew frustrated at his words. "Of course it matters! Stop acting like this is nothing. I need you to talk to me seriously, because I don't want to get my hopes up..."

He looked back at you, only to see your eyes watering. "Hey wait-don't cry. Shit. I'm real fuckin' bad at this, ain't I?"

You laughed and sniffled, "Yeah, a little."

He sighed and squeezed your hand that was holding his.

"I uh, I do really like you. I have for a while. I just didn't wanna fuck up what we already had-" He was cut off by you throwing your arms around his neck tightly.

"You big dummy. I can't believe you thought you'd mess things up."

His eyes widened in surprise, but he still wrapped his arms around your waist. He stayed quiet to listen to what you had to say.

"I actually like you too, y'know. I have for a while now."

He smirked and hugged you tighter. "Thank god. I was almost afraid you'd run out on me."

You snorted and pulled away slowly. "No way in hell would I do that. I just didn't know how to tell you..."

He threw an arm around you and said, "Well I'm glad ya did. 'Cause you're my girl now."

"Don't I get any say in this?" You asked jokingly.

"Nah, you agreed when you said you liked me back."

Extra:

That night, Katsuki decided to sleepover at your place since you two had already made it official. You lent him some mens pajamas you had since you were sure they'd fit him, which he fussed about because he assumed they belonged to another man.

"No Katsuki, these are actually mine believe it or not."

"Tsk, good. If I ever find any other loser's shit in here I'll blow it up."

[gravehags]

how to adopt and care for your ghouls

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT

Words: 1,966

Tags: established relationship, hijinks, fade to black (mostly) smut, ghouls doing ghoul shit, ghouls imprinting on reader like a bunch of feral kittens, copia going through it, hint at potential future uhhhh ghoulette/reader action maybe?

a/n: this is so stupid i'm obsessed with it

~~~

“That’s all the new ghouls settled in the den, then,” you announce, tired but accomplished. You shut the door with your hip and toe off your shoes before launching yourself into the arms of your beloved who is currently seated on the couch.

“Oof! Bene, bene, thank you for taking this on, amore. You know I could have had a sibling do this, si?”

“Yeah,” you say, wiggling your way under the blanket and looking at the TV, currently on mute and playing some reality show, “I suppose but I don’t know, this is a huge step you’re taking and I wanted to support you in any way I can. Almost like I love and cherish you and want your success, as wild as that may sound.”

“You…love me?!” he scoffs, reaching to the side and hauling you on top of him as you squeal inelegantly, “I see why you might. I am very handsome, and smart, and successful, and did you know I have a band, bella signorina?”

“No!” you gasp, “A band? You? You never mentioned that to me, not even once, not even a little bit. I just thought you were some hot weird priest and well, I have hierophilia, so naturally–”

He shuts you up by firmly pressing his lips against yours, both of you giggling in between kisses. When you pull away and push yourself off the couch, backing up towards the bedroom he follows, stalking you with a sinister grin.

“Hierophilia, eh?” he purrs as you bump into the doorway and lean against it, “Does this agnellino require penance for her sins?”

You take your lower lip between your teeth and smile.

“Your Eminence, I’ve never seen you without your cassock before,” you murmur, eyes raking over his t-shirt, the red sweatpants, and the lovely, familiar tent in them that has your mouth watering, “It makes this so much easier.”

When you slowly lower yourself to your knees as he approaches, you hear him chuckle before sliding a bare hand into your hair.

“Go on then, ragazza mia,” he groans as you lower the waistband of his pants and take him out, “Show me how that–ah–pretty little mouth can atone.”

Your lips slide off the head only for a moment, your hand wrapped around him and stroking lazily.

“Thank you, Your Eminence.”

By the time the two of you crawl to bed, you’re both ruined and exhausted and entirely satisfied.

–

“Cazzo!”

You hear the curse loud and clear through the door to the rehearsal room and wince, your hand on the doorknob. The shouting continues as you cautiously open the door and eight heads swivel over to look at you. Your beloved looks exhausted and red faced, hair disheveled and midway through gesticulating wildly when he immediately drops his hands and his anger and scuttles over to you.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,” you say, watching Copia attempt to push back the strands hanging in his face.

“No, no,” he waves, turning to cast his gaze behind him at the seated ghouls who still watch you intently. “I, eh. Amore can you–can you watch them for a moment? Five minutes, maybe ten? I need to uh…recompose myself. These fucking ghouls will not listen.”

The last part is hissed out as you cup his cheek, nodding.

“Go, take as long as you need.”

He turns his head to press a swift kiss to your palm before stalking out. A silence rings out as you turn to look at the infernal beings staring at you like raccoons caught in the garbage cans.

“Hey…guys,” you begin, slowly walking over to them. “I don’t know if you remember me but–”

“Of course we remember you,” the shorter ghoulette whispers, her tone reverent, “You’re the one who took care of us after we were brought here.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, surprised, “I-I mean I just made sure everyone got settled. You know, made sure everyone was comfortable. I don’t even think we know each other’s names.”

So you tell them yours.

And they tell you theirs.

And from there it’s a blur.

You don’t know who pulled you into a chair first - maybe Swiss? But all of a sudden you’ve got ghouls draped all over you, their tails wagging gleefully as they gaze at you with adoration.

“Are you the Cardinal’s mate?”

“Your eyes are so pretty.”

“Can you tell the Cardinal to stop calling us ‘piccoli stronzi’?”

“Are you single?”

You’re not sure who said what but that last question you definitely know is from Swiss by the way he grins at you and winks before being elbowed sharply in the ribs by Cirrus.

“Ok first,” you say, your heart full as Aether shifts to lay his head in your lap, “Tell me why Copia was shouting. What did you guys do?”

“Ugh,” Cirrus says, crossing her arms and canting her hips, “That. He’s pissed because he was trying to tell us how to do our jobs.”

“Well…” you say, “That’s kind of his job, isn’t it?”

“He’s no Papa,” Dewdrop huffs, slumping in his chair. You eye the scarring on the sides of his neck from his elemental transition and your heart hurts for him. Copia was deeply aggrieved about that particular ritual and though you weren’t present for it like you were for the summonings, hearing about it from him was enough to understand the brutality of it.

“He may not be Papa,” you begin carefully, “But he summoned you. Well, most of you. There is no Ghost project without him but also without any of you. You all have a symbiosis with him and…he just wants everything to go right. To be perfect. Surely you understand the stress on his shoulders to not fuck this up, yeah?”

Aether grunts from your lap.

“Wish you were the head of the Ghost project,” Rain murmurs, while towering Mountain nods in agreement. You laugh.

“None of you want to hear me sing, trust me,” you say, idly dragging your fingers through Aether’s hair as Cumulus and Cirrus watch with poorly concealed jealousy, “but my beloved has so much to give. I just ask that you give him a chance. For me.”

You don’t get a response as you hear the door shut behind you.

“Amore,” Copia says, looking a great deal more relaxed but wary as he beholds your captive audience, “This is an…interesting turn of events.”

When a disheveled Aether lifts his head off your lap and gives Copia a lazy grin, you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing.

“She was giving us a pep talk,” Cumulus chirps, rocking back onto her heels, “Really motivational stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Copia says, still cautious.

“Ok everyone,” Cirrus claps sharply, “Back to your instruments. We got an album to learn. Right, boss?”

The ghouls all look to Copia, but Copia is too busy looking at you to notice. You smile and shrug.

“I’ll uh…leave you all to it,” you say, standing up and walking over to your love to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, “See you later, hon. And…be sweet to them, hmm? For me?”

It’s the last time you hear Copia shout in that practice room.

–

You’re nice and cozy in bed, nestled against the pillows and watching stupid cat videos on your phone when there’s a soft knock at the door. At first you think maybe Copia forgot his keys but surely he would have texted you? You throw the covers back and slide off the mattress to pad over to the door. When you open it you expect to see your beloved, perhaps one of the papas, but instead there are…two ghouls.

“Hi,” the taller of the two says, trademark grin on his face. His companion stands silent, shoulders squared and arms behind his back.

“Hey Swiss, Dewdrop,” you say, smiling at them. “If you’re looking for Copia he’s–”

“We’re not,” Dewdrop says flatly, and his tone makes you laugh against your better judgment.

“Oh! Okay. Are…are you looking for me?”

Swiss nods eagerly.

“We uh,” he starts, rubbing his palms, “don’t feel good.”

Dewdrop shakes his head solemnly.

“Uh-huh,” you say, crossing your arms, “I mean, the infirmary will probably be able to help you better than I can but I’ll try my best. What’s up?”

“We can’t sleep,” Dew pipes up.

“Nope, not a wink,” Swiss confirms.

“I mean I’ve got some sleeping meds - can you guys take sleeping meds? Oh God, I don’t want to kill one of you I–”

“Can we stay with you?” Dew asks quietly.

You smirk.

“This your clever way of getting into my bed?”

Swiss coughs and Dew grins, teeth sharp.

“I mean, you said it, not us,” Swiss laughs, “but since you offered–”

You make a quiet noise of protest as the ghouls sidle into Copia’s living room, looking around. You shut the door, shaking your head.

“No funny business, my loves,” you coo, walking back to the bedroom with them on your heels. 

“Oh we wouldn’t do that to Cumulus and Cirrus. O-or the Cardinal.”

You spin on your heel.

“What was that about Cumulus and Cirrus?”

“Nothing,” they say in unison, faces unreadable.

You eye them both suspiciously before climbing back into your now cold bed, scooting to the middle.

“Well, come on,” you say, waving them over. Swiss climbs in on your right side and Dewdrop on your left, snuggling into you. You’re not sure if it’s just your imagination but you swear Dew is emanating warmth. It makes your eyelids heavy and you yawn so deeply your jaw cracks.

“Alright you two bozos, time for bed.”

“Thank you Lady Copia,” Dew says, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Christ, please don’t call me that,” you sigh, tilting your head to rest on Swiss’. As your companions drift off a steady purr begins to rumble between the two of them, lulling you to sleep.

“What the fuck?!”

Your eyes snap open and you choke on your gasp upon seeing a figure in the dark and a glowing white eye staring down at you. The light comes on not long after, and you blink up at your love.

“Hey, hon,” you say, your voice hoarse. “What’s wr–oh.”

The two ghouls are still in your bed, eyes shut. Swiss has his leg slung between yours and both have their arms wrapped around your waist. 

“At the risk of sounding like a cliche,” you murmur, yawning, “it’s not what it looks like.”

Copia glowers down at the three of you.

“Is that right?”

He’s being so very loud, your beloved.

“Shh bello mio, they’re sleeping.”

“In my fucking bed,” he hisses. You know he’s annoyed but you’re just glad he’s being quieter about it now. He throws his hands up and starts muttering in furious Italian. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell them to move. Guys,” you say, nudging them gently, “guys you gotta get up. Copia thinks we’re having a torrid affair.”

Neither of them stir but Swiss starts snoring loudly and you swear you hear a snicker from Dew.

Copia looks incensed.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t even move let alone make them move.”

“Stronzi,” Copia growls, “get out of my bed and your hands off my love or I will send you back to the fucking pit.”

There’s definitely no mistaking Dew’s laughter this time and you have to bite your lip to muffle your own as you look up at your furious lover. He hovers over the three of you, fuming for a minute before turning on his heel and stomping off to the living room to fling himself onto the couch. As you fall back asleep, arousal stirs in your belly imagining the ways he’s going to make you pay. 

You hope it involves penance.

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “P.I., actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Dorm Heads - Reader Has A Collection of Items

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

I'm still sick unfortunately, but thankfully my migraine is gone so I decided that I should still write the asks that have been sent in. Fun fact: I have a collection of old keys as well as a collection of quarters and Midori (A×K) and Sanemi (KNY) themed items. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏•♡•🃏

🌹 I don't see Riddle as the collecting type, so he probably doesn't get the point of having a collection in the first place. He'd just see it as useless clutter or even a bunch of random trash that you keep in your room. It doesn't matter what you collect, he just doesn't get it.

🌹 Now, while Mr. Rosehearts thinks you're hoarding trash like some sort of giant bipedal raccoon, he won't stop you but won't encourage you either. He loves you so he'll let you explore your interests at your own pace... even if he thinks it's weird. If collecting various items makes you happy, Riddle won't stop you, he loves seeing you smile.

🌹 Let's say, in Riddle's part, that you collect standard playing cards of various themes. Ex. Solitaire cards with varying seasonal and holiday designs. Riddle would most likely ask you why you need so many different packages of cards and would likely try to convince you to use them once and a while since playing cards are to be played with. But if you say no he would drop it.

🌹 If you gift him something from your collection, he wouldn't get it but would accept it anyway because it's a gift from you. Riddle would probably put it on a shelf in his room or pin it to his wall, whatever it is. He'll grab it down and just examine it when he misses you.

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"My Rose... What's all this for? ... A collection? B‐but these are— ah... nevermind, what a... uhm lovely collection you have here..."

"Oh! This one is for me? Ah... well, thank you, My Rose."

🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾

🦁 Leona is another person who I don't see as the collecting type, but if he did have a collection I think it would be a collection of different types of pillows. He keeps his collection on his bed and the surrounding floor because there are so many. So, Leona certainly doesn't mind nor care really if you have a collection of items.

🦁 That's not to say that our lion boy doesn't get annoyed when your attention is focused on your collection rather than him. Even if you and Leona were just cuddling and you turn to your collection, you've successfully pissed him off. Good luck getting him to let you go the next time you lay down for a nap with him. He won't. You're stuck now.

🦁 For Mr. Kingscholar's part, let's say you collect little carved wooden figures. Ex. Animals, plants, monuments, etc. Leona found out about your collection before you told him actually. He was getting comfortable on your bed, ready to lay down for another nap when he felt something hard poking him in the side. And lo and behold, it was a little carved wooden lion no bigger than a chess piece.

🦁 Leona will take whatever you give him not without complaint though, but if you try and take it back he won't give it to you. He most likely makes Ruggie turn whatever you give him into a necklace or a keychain saying that he can carry it with him at all times. On days when he can't see you, Leona will stare at the item you gave him and trace its edges and crevices with a smile on his face.

🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾

"Hah? What's all this crap doin' on your bed? Move it off. I wanna lay down. C'mere Herbivore, I need somethin' soft to lay on."

"Huh? What's this for? Ah... sure whatever, I'll keep so you'll let me sleep already."

🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚

🐙 Azul is an avid collector himself. He most notably collected contracts before his overblot, but he also likes to collect little fossils that he finds on beaches and embankments. Azul is certainly interested in the fact that you have a collection and would love to share his collection with you.

🐙 I'll say it point blank, Azul has 100% definitely tried to suggest selling numerous items in your collection. But he tones it down when you assure him that they're not for sale. He'll bring it up in passing every once in a while though, he's still not giving up. Azul will stop if you tell him to, though.

🐙 For octopus wifey you'll be collecting rocks of all kinds. Ex. Smooth and shiny pebbles to small chunks of gemstones. Azul will also contribute to your collection by gifting you various types of pearls of small pieces of dead coral. He even got you a special box to keep your collection in, isn't he so sweet?

🐙 When you give Azul something from your collection he'll shyly accept it and mutter a cute and quiet little thank you. He'll put it on his desk in his private office in the Monstrou Lounge; he makes sure to slip it into a drawer whenever Floyd comes in though. Whenever Azul is very busy at the lounge and can't see you, he'll glance at it every so often between signing papers.

🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚•♡•🐚

"This is quite the collection you've got here, Angel Fish. You know... a few of your little collectibles could go for a hefty sum... No pressure, of course."

"Hm? For me? I... w‐well thank you, Angel Fish."

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

🪞 Oh, Vil collects things as well. Jewelry is the item of choice in his case; from antique brooches to new-age hairpins. He doesn't mind that you collect things, but he will be a bit snooty about which items are deemed worthy of being collected. Vil will absolutely eye your collection with disdain if it's something he doesn't like, but he won't say anything.

🪞 Vil finds collecting to be a respectable hobby that any fair gentleman should have, so he certainly supports you. He actually discovered your hobby when he barged in came to your dorm to see you and saw your collection littering the vanity he ordered for you. This kind of annoyed Vil, but he let it go when he saw how happy you were.

🪞 In Mr. Schoenheit's case, I believe a collection of feathers fits the best. Ex. Pheasant feathers, eagle feathers, peacock feathers, etc. Vil doesn't mind your collection but he does think it's a bit unsanitary that you'd pick something up off the ground and keep it, especially something like a feather.

🪞 Vil will accept gifts from you all the time, but sometimes he accepts them and just puts out of sight if he doesn't like it. If you give him an item from your collection, he'll likely pin it to the side of his full length/vanity mirror or sit it on the desk of his vanity. Whenever he's too busy with his acting and modeling career to see you, Vil will take a few glances at it while he's putting on his makeup.

👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑•♡•👑

"Ah... Sweet Potato... What's all this garbage doing cluttering up your vanity? Collection? Wouldn't you rather... oh, I don't know... collect more appealing items per chance."

"Where in the world did you get this? Oh? You're gifting this to me? Well... I suppose I must accept it then..."

🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌

🪲 Kalim has a collection too! He collects anything that catches his interest at the time, so his collection is compiled of all sorts of different things. He is overwhelmingly supportive of you and your collection. Kalim would love to share his collection with you!

🪲 Please! Please, please, please show Kalim your collection, he'll show you his as well, it'll be a nice little bonding experience between the two of you. He'll often give you all sorts of random things he comes across and ask if you'd add it to your collection or make a whole new collection based around it.

🪲 For our adorable sunshine boy, we'll make your collection one of coins. Ex. Coins from different countries, coins that are no longer produced, pressed coins, etc. Kalim finds them all so interesting and always asks about the history surrounding them. He's definitely given you coins from the scorching sands so you can add them to your collection.

🪲 If you give Kalim something from your collection, he's absolutely ecstatic! He probably keeps whatever item you decide to give him in his pocket at all times. When he can't see you, Kalim will reach into his pocket and run his fingers along the item to feel its texture.

🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌•♡•🕌

"Woah! These are so cool! Where did you find all this stuff? Do you want to see my collection of cool stuff too? It's in my room! C'mon let's go!"

"Eh? OH! For me! You're so sweet! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I'll give you something too, wait here!"

🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱

💀 Idia obviously has a large collection of his own. He collects anime and video game figures; he even has an entire room in the Ignihyde dorm dedicated to it. Idia's glad you collect things as well, it makes him feel like less of an outcast.

💀 Do you want to see his collection too? Idia is very enthusiastic about sharing his collection with you, which is a lot for him to trust you with, so please say you like it or he might cry. He most likely won't try and contribute anything to your collection or really compliment it all that much, he's far too shy.

💀 In Idia's case I think collecting ornate keys would fit perfectly. Sometimes, when he comes to your room, he'll be distracted by all the different keys that you had and shyly ask you where you found all of them. Idia won't ask all that often, but he tries to do it more since he likes the way you smile when you talk about your interests.

💀 Idia gets so jittery when you gift him things, he thinks he's undeserving so he always ends up with teary eyes. He'll probably keep whatever item you give him in the top drawer of his dresser. Sometimes, when he's too shy to leave his room, Idia will dig through his drawer and clutch it in his hand, running his thumb over it.

🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱•♡•🔱

"You collect stuff as well? Is it figurines? Do you... d‐do you wanna see my figurine collection? A‐and maybe I can look at your collection as well... i‐if you want to."

"Your giving this to me? T‐that's— A‐are you sure? I... t‐thank you..."

🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

🐲 Malleus isn't one to collect things, but he's certainly up to observe them. He needs nothing more than the gargoyles perched atop Night Raven College. He doesn't mind letting you indulge in your silly little human pastime.

🐲 Humans are so strange, Malleus doesn't think he'll ever understand them, but Lilia has a collection of human games so he supposes he can't complain. Do show him your collection, he would absolutely love to learn about his dear Child of Man's interests. Out of everything involving your collection, your smile has to be Malleus's favorite part.

🐲 In Mr. Draconia's case, I think a collection of dried & pressed plants would suit you best. While he definitely doesn't get why you would go out of the way to press and dry plants when they're right outside, he kind of likes it. Often, Malleus will have plants from the Valley of Thorns brought to him so he can gift them to you.

🐲 A gift? For him? Malleus would be absolutely delighted if you gave him a gift let alone one of your silly little human trinkets. He'd keep whatever item you ended up giving him in an ornate glass case and would never move it from there. When he can't see you, Malleus will gently open the glass case and observe the item for a while.

🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉•♡•🐉

"Ah... such interesting items that you've procured here, dear Child of Man. I wonder... would you like to observe my favorite gargoyles with me tonight."

"Oh? For me? My, my~ aren't you thoughtful, Child of Man. Perhaps I should return the favor..."

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[videnrambles]

Time Travel Fix It au where Yuuji goes back to like 2003 or whenever tf hidden inventory was. He unknowingly picks up some animal companions that turns out to be people from the original time line.

So now there's just like this over powered homeless kid beating up special grade curses and being followed around by a bunch of overprotective magic animals.

Jujutsu society is in shambles trying to find this kid who legally doesn't even exist. Idk maybe animal Gojo is doing some weird voodoo to hide him from human Gojo's six eyes.

Yuuji is completely oblivious to the fact that his animals are magical. He just thinks he's hallucinating or some bullshit.

Nobara - Fox with one eye and a pink bow

Megumi - Medium sized husky who is unusually quiet

Gojo - Big white cat who wears sunglasses

Todo - Giant 3 legged dog, like a tibetan mastiff but nicer?

Choso - Raccoon who is extremely trigger happy, would fight anything

Nanami - big bird of prey (im too lazy to find a good species rn)

Panda - panda but smol

Toge - albino rat who definitely might be the rat king

Maki - Honey Badge, no clue how it got to japan she's there now tho

Yuta - Bat that enjoys hiding in Yuuji's coat during the day

Maybe there are more, idk i haven't fucking slept in 2 days

Yuuji is at a point in his life where he will hit someone with a black-flash to get a half eaten slice of pizza. He's basically given up on the idea of rejoining society and is now just trying to stop everything from going to shit.

Yuuji sleeps in a dumpster but dw he's chill with it. To him literally nothing can be worse then being Sukuna's vessel so he's happy. Also all these animals keep showing up and keep him warm so it's pretty good.

idk man he's just living his (almost)best life trying to track down Kenjaku while sleeping in dumpsters. Jujutsu higher ups are in shambles trying to find out who tf keeps exorcizing high grade spirits.

[autumnmobile12]

I'm imagining before they took over the Paranormal Liberation Front, these guys probably survived off of vending machine snacks, canned whatever, and maybe had to dumpster dive at least once. (Oh, the indignity.) They don't strike me as having hunter/gatherer know-how unless it's raiding somebody's vegetable garden.

...definitely an interesting sight, turning on your porch light and finding the nation's most wanted squatting in your backyard like a bunch of raccoons as they make off with your turnips.

And what's funnier about the canned goods situation is the LoV didn't seem to be hiding out in places that had electricity/gas/running water, so there's also the nightly dilemma of either eating cold soup or playing Russian roulette in asking Dabi to heat it up and praying he's not in a murderous mood.

[sturnzsblog]

empty dreams and false promises 11

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

It had been weeks since that night.

The night Matt almost kissed me.

The night Chris gave me candy and I cried so hard I thought I’d break in half.

Since then, everything had felt… weird. Not bad. Just weird.

Chris hadn’t yelled at me once.

That alone was enough to throw off my entire internal rhythm.

He hadn’t been nice exactly — I didn’t think he even knew what that meant — but he was… different. The sharp edges were still there, but duller. The harshest parts of him pulled back just enough for me to breathe around him.

Which only made things more confusing.

⸻

The first time I noticed something shift, it was a Tuesday.

I had come into the kitchen to get water before bed, hoodie pulled over my head, socked feet dragging across the tile. Chris was already there, leaning against the counter, eating trail mix straight from the bag.

Usually, we ignored each other in moments like that. Or he’d make some passive-aggressive comment about how I “walk like a raccoon.”

But this time, he just looked at me and said, “You always drink outta that cup?”

I blinked, confused. “What?”

He nodded at the blue mason jar I’d grabbed from the cabinet. “You used that one last night too. That’s, like, your water cup now?”

I stared at him, heart hammering in the stupidest way. “I guess.”

He shrugged. “Kinda lame. But fitting.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re lame.”

He smirked. And that was it.

But it was the first time in weeks that his words didn’t make me want to cry.

⸻

After that, things just started happening.

Little things.

Small moments I didn’t even know I could hold onto until they passed.

Like the time I sneezed during dinner and Chris — mid-chew — muttered a barely audible “bless you”.

Or the time I tripped coming up the stairs and he reached out, caught my arm without thinking, then let go like it burned him.

Or the morning I sat alone at the counter scrolling through my phone, and he dropped a granola bar in front of me without saying a word.

Every time it happened, I’d look up at him.

And every time, he’d already be walking away.

⸻

But he also still got to me.

He could still be cold. Still shut down when I got too close.

Still toss a perfectly crafted insult that hit too close to something soft in me.

Which made the moments when he wasn’t like that feel like whiplash.

Like that night in the garage.

⸻

Matt had roped me into helping him sort through a bunch of boxes that had been gathering dust for months. We were blasting music from his speaker, both covered in cobwebs and laughter. It was the lightest I’d felt in days. Weeks, maybe.

I had just tried balancing an old football helmet on Matt’s head when Chris walked in.

His face dropped.

I knew that look.

Matt didn’t notice right away, too busy laughing with me about something dumb. But I did.

Chris’s jaw ticked. His eyes swept the room like he was searching for something that had been stolen from him.

“This is kind of our thing,” he said, flatly.

The words hit me harder than they should have.

My smile faltered. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

Matt stepped in, trying to defuse it, but I’d already taken a step back.

Chris didn’t say another word. Just turned and walked out, leaving silence behind him like a storm cloud.

And I hated that it hurt so much.

⸻

Still, I didn’t stop trying.

I’d say “hi” when we passed in the hallway. I’d make a joke during dinner, testing the waters.

Sometimes he’d laugh. Sometimes he wouldn’t.

Sometimes he’d leave the room entirely.

But every so often — just enough to make it worse — he’d look at me like he wanted to say something.

Like he was stuck between hating that I was here and needing me to stay.

⸻

Then there was the day I made him laugh. Really laugh.

I was watching TV in the living room, curled up under a blanket with popcorn in my lap. He came in, plopped beside me with zero warning, and started watching too.

Fifteen minutes in, a commercial came on — some cheesy ad for perfume with dramatic music and people running through fog.

I scoffed and said, “I bet it smells like expired watermelon.”

Chris snorted, full-on snorted.

Then he covered his face, groaning. “Jesus, shut up.”

But he was smiling. For real.

I stared at him, stunned. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

I grinned. “I didn’t know you could smile.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t.”

But I did.

And that scared me.

⸻

Because there was one night — when the house was quiet, and I was in the kitchen again — and Chris came in without saying a word.

I expected him to ignore me like always.

But instead, he leaned on the counter across from me and asked, “Why did you even move in here?”

I looked up. “I didn’t exactly choose it.”

He nodded. “Yeah. But still. It’s gotta be weird, right? Living with us.”

I shrugged. “Weird isn’t the worst thing I’ve been through.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then said, “You don’t seem scared of me anymore.”

I swallowed. “Should I be?”

He stared at me — a long, unreadable glance — and then tilted his head.

“Maybe,” he said, voice quieter now. “I can be kind of an asshole.”

“Kind of?” I laughed, surprised.

He smiled — a tiny one — and looked down like he hadn’t meant to let that slip.

“Fine. I’m a professional asshole. You caught me.”

“You wear it like a badge.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m just honest. Most people can’t handle that.”

I leaned back against the counter, folding my arms. “No, you’re mean. You just call it honesty so it sounds cool.”

“Ohh,” he said, smirking. “She’s got bite now.”

“Bite I’ve always had,” I replied. “I just don’t waste it on people who aren’t worth it.”

He blinked, then his smirk grew. “So I’m worth it now?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say it.”

I narrowed my eyes, lips twitching into an involuntary smile. “Don’t twist my words.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, but there was that glint again. That quiet, clever grin like he was always three steps ahead.

We stood there for a second longer — the room silent but full of something unspoken.

Something buzzing.

Something dangerous.

⸻

It wasn’t long, but it lingered.

The kind of moment that gets replayed in your head against your will when you try to fall asleep.

The kind of tension you want to ignore but can feel curling around your ribs.

Something about the way Chris looked at me that night — just for a second — felt new.

Felt loaded.

Not soft exactly. But not hard, either.

Not safe. But not cruel.

Just… dangerous.

And kind of addicting.

⸻

The next morning, when I passed him in the hallway, he didn’t say anything.

But he did nudge my shoulder with his as we walked by each other.

Like it was a game now.

And suddenly, I couldn’t tell which was worse — when he hated me, or when he didn’t.

Now, every time he enters a room, my heart stutters.

Every time he walks past me without saying something cruel, it feels like a victory.

Every time he stays and lets the silence stretch — a safe kind of silence — I want to memorize it.

But I don’t trust it.

Not yet.

Chris is a storm.

And storms don’t stay calm forever.

yippie!

2 more tomorrow?

janae 💋

taglist💋

@n00dl3zzz

[fr3aky-fr1es-akathattheatrekid]

More stuff about my sbg au :3 (Which is now called Class of the Graveyard)

Tyler wears a choker and guyliner

Aiden's hair reaches below his shoulders a little and he has a raccoon tail and dyed red undercut if that's what it's called 😭😭😭

Aiden and Tyler also have a lot of piercings.

Taylor wears braces

Ashlyn has a gap in her teeth

Logan doesn't have insomnia, I changed it and now he has HYPERsomnia (basically the opposite of insomnia but the same outcome, tired as hell)

More elaboration as to why Logan doesn't like Tyler. Even though Tyler doesn't mean it ALL the time, he's more of a blunt bitch to Logan. And there are two reasons for this. 1. He's jealous, he's jealous that Logan's closer to Ashlyn than he'd ever be since he's hung up pretty bad on their past relationship. 2. He likes Logan and is simply trying to push it down down down and deny everything about it. And now, Logan doesn't like Tyler because of his personality in general. But the first few weeks of the phantom world, Tyler would second-guess and doubt EVERYTHING Ashlyn says or does about plans, he'd make his own decisions up ahead and act like he knows everything kinda

Aiden scared Logan when he and Ben arrived at school. More elaboration? When Aiden was pestering Ashlyn while Ben followed him (same interaction kinda as to the og sbg), Ashlyn eventually approached Logan and ignored Aiden from then on and Aiden crept up behind Logan and scared the living shit out of him

Ashlyn, Tyler, Taylor and Ben are more recently turned 15. Aiden and Logan are both 14

Ben's full name is Brendan

Logan can speak French, Russian, German and Greek (our multilingual kingggggggg, he loves Geography, and History, and Science)

Logan had friends in his old elementary but they uh... kinda ditched him cause they thought be was annoying

Tyler didn't get popular until 7th grade when he officially joined a baseball team throughout the years and quit band. People only usually knew him because they knew Taylor who was FRIENDS with EVERYONE

Logan had a crush on Barron and Barron found out and threatened to tell people so which is why Barron kinds got Logan in the situation he was in

Aiden had asthma but it's pretty mild

Logan sleeps for pretty much the whole day on weekends

Taylor wears a bunch of bracelets and had Tyler style it a lot

That's all :3

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Beautiful Boys

Prompt Day 23: Wayne Adopts Steve | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Lingering Injuries/Trauma | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Wayne & Steve, Wayne POV

Wayne is in Hawkins Hardware, looking at the fence pickets. He definitely didn't expect them to have this many choices. He figured he'd come in and buy what he needed, from the only option available. In and out. Wallet a little lighter, but no choices to be made. 

But, no. There are options. Decisions. And he isn't sure which style Eddie would prefer. He just wants Eddie to have a place he feels safe outdoors, again.

Wayne reaches out to touch the samples, again, when he hears clattering and an "oh my god, I'm so sorry" that sounds an awful lot like Steve Harrington.

Wayne pokes his head around the corner of the aisle, and Steve is gathering up a bunch of swag hooks off the floor, swiping them back into his handbasket.

"What're you doin' with those, kid?" Wayne asks, crouching down to help him.

"Eddie's plants," Steve says, standing back up, pushing his hair back and up, out of his eyes. These boys and their hair they can't keep contained. Wayne smiles. He remembers how his (now long-gone) hair was in the sixties. Different styles, sure, but just as impractical, at times.

"Eddie's plants," Wayne repeats with a smile, then asks, "You're gonna hang them from the ceiling?" 

Steve nods, and Wayne grins, "That's a good idea, kid. He'll love that."

Eddie has gathered up a lot of houseplants recently, tending to them, taking care of them, babying them. The first ones were sent to the hospital by his friends, and Eddie latched onto them. And now, Steve drags a new one home every week or two as a gift. Eddie is still recovering, might always be recovering, but his plants make him smile and give him something to do.

Wayne doesn't quite understand it, not with the black thumb he has, but it's like everything else about Eddie. Wayne doesn't have to understand it, to support him. If Eddie wants plants, they can have a whole houseful of them.

Eddie survived something he still hasn't fully explained to Wayne, might never, so if he wants to fill the house with greenery, so be it. 

If he wants to fill the house with Steve Harrington, too, that's also just fine by Wayne.

Steve smiles shyly, "If you don't care that I put holes in the ceiling, that is."

Wayne doesn't care. "I'll help. I've got a stud finder, so we won't have them falling and cracking us on the noggin."

Steve laughs, and nods, "Thanks. What are you doing here?"

Wayne waves him over, getting Steve to follow him.

"Trying to pick fencing for the backyard. If Eddie's gonna keep dragging home strays, we'll need a place to put them," Wayne says, and Steve blushes, just a little. 

"I could make a tent work," Steve teases, and Wayne squeezes his shoulder. Steve is always, and will always, be welcome in the house.

"Good to know, but I was thinking more along the lines of dogs, cats, raccoons. You know how he is," Wayne drawls, and Steve smiles. It's wishful thinking, because they both know the real reason for the fence. Eddie doesn't want to leave the house these days.

"I just assumed I'd get dog-ears," Wayne says, pointing at the slightly-rounded piece of wood on display. "But there are choices."

Steve studies them all, finally saying "I think Eddie would like the pointed ones the most. Looks dangerous," Steve says.

Wayne nods. He was thinking the same thing.

"They're narrower, be more work to set," Wayne mutters.

Steve turns to look at him, "I'll help you, you know that."

Wayne nods. He knows Steve will. He's a good kid, who spends most of his time hanging out in their new little house, doting on Eddie in one way or another. Wayne isn't blind. He knows what this is, what these boys feel for each other, even if Eddie hasn't told him yet.

He will. Wayne just has to be patient.

"Sounds good, kid," Wayne says, and Steve grins, big and bright. Like he wasn't sure his help would be accepted. 

"I don't know much about building a fence, but I can learn. I can follow instructions," Steve assures, and Wayne pats him on the back.

"Let's double-check my math here," Wayne says, pulling a small notepad out of his pocket, rerunning his figures. 

Once he's got a good number, Wayne directs them towards the stain options. Steve picks one with a red tint, and Wayne nods. Looks good to him.

When they get to the counter, he takes Steve's basket and adds it to his.

"You don't have to do that," Steve says.

Wayne knows he doesn't, but it's for Eddie and it's just a few dollars worth of hooks and bolts. He's definitely gonna get his money back in fence-building help.

"I know, I want to," Wayne says, opening his wallet.

Outside, Steve helps the guys from the lumber department load up the trailer full of the pickets. 

"See you at home?" Wayne questions, and Steve nods and smiles.

"Yeah, at home," he answers, walking towards his car, with his small sack of hardware.

And they spend days hanging the over-abundance of plants in front of every window in the house, so many that it seems like they're living in a greenhouse, and then they work on the fence. Putting it up, picket by picket, together.

Sometimes, Eddie comes and sits on the patio and watches, but it still takes a lot out of him, even now, months later. Wayne's worried he might never fully recover. 

But, Steve works hard to entertain Eddie. Steve's funny, and he treats Eddie real good. That's all that will ever matter to Wayne. Eddie's his boy, and by extension, Steve's his boy now, too.

Eddie and Steve fight over the radio, a welcome sound, and Steve's won. 

So, John Lennon's singing about a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. 

Wayne knows that feeling well.

He's got two of those beautiful boys, now. 

close your eyes, have no fear, the monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy John Lennon, Beautiful Boy

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!