#genuinely i could stare into those eyes forever

[hjvi]

𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

You’re sitting on the worn, overstuffed couch in Christopher’s basement, the dim light of a single lamp casting a golden glow over the room. The faint hum of his laptop sits in the background, but your focus is entirely on him. Christopher—your Christopher—is pacing, talking a mile a minute, hands flying in every direction as he tells you about some ridiculous idea for a YouTube video. To anyone else, he’d be this loud, fast-talking ball of energy, hard to follow and even harder to keep up with. But to you, he’s everything.

Ever since you were kids, you’ve known a side of Chris that no one else sees. To everyone else, he was the annoying kid who couldn’t sit still, who blurted out answers in class without raising his hand, and who was always two steps ahead of himself. But you—you saw the quiet moments. The times when he’d focus so intently on a drawing or a thought, his blue eyes narrowing in concentration, the world fading around him. You saw the way he’d bite his lip when he was nervous or how his hands fidgeted when he was trying to keep his energy under control. To you, he wasn’t just loud or impatient—he was a puzzle, intricate and endlessly fascinating. And for some reason, you were the only person who seemed to want to figure him out.

The two of you grew up in the same neighborhood, your houses just a few blocks apart. Your earliest memory of Chris is of him at a birthday party when you were six. He’d been the kid running around with cake smeared on his face, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. But later that same day, you’d found him sitting under the dining table, quietly drawing pictures of dinosaurs on the napkins. He’d looked up when you crawled under to join him and smiled, wide and genuine. “You like dinosaurs too?” he’d asked, his tone curious, his smile so warm it felt like sunshine. From that moment, it was like you’d known each other forever.

As the years passed, your friendship deepened. Chris was the only friend you ever needed. He was loud, sure, but he always made space for you. No matter how chaotic his energy was, he’d stop everything to listen when you needed to talk. It amazed you how someone so full of life could also be so present, so deeply invested in you. He’d lean back in his chair, hands still for once, his blue eyes locked on yours. “You’re seriously the only person who gets me,” he’d say, and you’d believe him.

When you were ten, the two of you made a promise. It was one of those silly, half-serious pacts kids make late at night when the world feels a little too big. You were sitting on his bed, the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling casting faint shadows. “If we don’t have anyone else by the time we’re, like, old—I dunno, twenty-five or something—we’ll just get married, okay?” he’d said, his tone light but his eyes sincere. You’d laughed and agreed, pinky-promising under the covers.

You never told anyone about that promise, but it stayed with you. Maybe because deep down, you’d always known there was something different about the way you felt about Chris. You’d always loved him, in one way or another. But it wasn’t until recently that you realized he loved you too—not just as a friend, but as something more.

It happened one night a few weeks ago. The two of you were sitting on the hood of his car, parked at the edge of an empty lot. The sky was clear, stars scattered across the black canvas above you. Chris was quieter than usual, his leg bouncing as he stared out into the night.

“Hey,” he’d said suddenly, turning to look at you. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” you’d replied, your voice soft.

He’d hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. Then he’d smiled, small and shy. “I think I’ve been in love with you since, like, forever. You’re the best part of my life, you know that?”

Your heart had stopped, then started again, pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. You’d felt your cheeks heat up, and for a moment, all you could do was nod.

Since then, everything had shifted. You and Chris were still you, still the same two kids who had grown up together, but now there was something more. You’d found yourself leaning into it, letting yourself be vulnerable in a way you never had before.

But there were still parts of you that held back. Chris had always been so sure of himself, so full of life, while you had always been a little more reserved. You loved the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world, but sometimes you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. You’d always been thin, your body a mix of sharp angles and soft curves, and while Chris never seemed to notice the things you picked apart about yourself, the insecurity lingered.

The evening in Christopher’s basement feels like every other moment you’ve spent with him, but there’s a new charge in the air, one you can’t ignore. The two of you are on the worn couch again, the soft hum of the paused movie barely audible in the background. His arm rests along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing the ends of your hair. It’s a small touch, one that sends warmth rushing through you.

Chris leans closer, and his voice is softer than usual. “You okay?” he asks, those piercing blue eyes of his locking on yours.

You nod, smiling at the way his concern seems to melt into relief almost instantly. He tilts his head, his messy hair falling into his face just a bit. “Good,” he says, his lips twitching into that familiar, crooked smile that’s always made your heart stutter.

His hand brushes your hair from your face, and for a moment, it feels like the world has slowed. He moves in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. The tension is palpable, hanging between you two, thick like a storm that’s about to break. The quiet pulse of your heartbeat fills your ears

You don’t remember who moved first, but suddenly his lips are on yours. It’s gentle at first, an exploration, a shared breath as if testing the waters. But as his lips press against yours again, firmer this time, something shifts. His hands slip behind your neck, pulling you in closer, tilting your head as his mouth moves against yours with more urgency. You respond in kind, your fingers finding the soft curls at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer still. His lips part slightly, and you follow suit, the kiss deepening as your breath quickens.

You kiss him back, feeling the heat of him spread through you. The world fades, and it’s just the two of you, the taste of him on your lips, the soft slide of his mouth against yours. You lean in, deepening the kiss.

His hand slips from your neck, trailing slowly down your body, fingertips brushing the edge of your shirt, and then—deliberate—he slides his hand beneath the fabric. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, his fingers warm against the bare skin of your waist. You feel him hesitate for just a split second, his touch lingering there, waiting for permission.

He pulls back for a moment, his breath hot against your lips. His eyes are locked on yours, searching for something, maybe reassurance, maybe a signal to continue. You can see the longing in his gaze, but there’s something else there too—a tenderness that cuts through the heat of the moment.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, his voice low and raspy, as if he’s afraid of pushing you too far, too fast.

You nod, your throat tight, but even in the dim light, you feel exposed—vulnerable in a way you’ve never been before. “Yeah… just… just slow down a little,” you say, the words coming out in a breathy whisper. You reach up, your fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt.

He nods, his fingers trailing down your arm before they find your shirt. With a sudden surge of confidence, he starts unbuttoning it, his fingers careful but sure. You can feel every movement, every inch of fabric that loosens, as if the small space between you and him is collapsing with each passing second.

As the fabric falls open, his fingers trace the curve of your collarbone, the heat of his touch spreading through you like wildfire. You shiver beneath his hand, but instead of moving away, he closes the distance again, kissing you harder, deeper, as though he can’t stop himself, as though the world outside the two of you has ceased to exist.

His lips leave yours, trailing down to your neck, and you gasp, feeling the soft press of his mouth against your skin. His hands move, carefully but insistently, exploring, learning the shape of you. You feel exposed, vulnerable—but with Chris, it’s different. It’s safe. He’s not rushing, not forcing anything; he’s savoring every inch of you.

You pull him back up to kiss him again, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him into you with a hunger that surprises you. He groans softly, pressing his body against yours, the heat of him intoxicating. Your hearts beat in sync now, and everything else—the noise, the world outside, the insecurities—fades into the background.

His lips move to your neck, kissing the soft skin just below your ear, and you shiver, your breath catching in your throat. He pauses again, his lips lingering there as if savoring the taste of your skin. His hands are now at the hem of your shirt, sliding it upwards, slowly exposing more of your bare skin.

You don’t stop him immediately. Instead, you close your eyes, letting yourself drown in the sensation. But when his fingers move lower, his touch now bold and unhesitant, you freeze. His fingers find the clasp of your bra, the small piece of fabric that is the last barrier between you and the vulnerability you’re feeling in this moment.

It’s not that you don’t want him, not that you don’t trust him. But something inside you shifts, a rush of uncertainty flooding you all at once. You swallow hard, the intensity of the situation pulling you back to earth. You place your hand gently on his chest, stopping him just as his fingers brush the clasp.

“Chris… wait,” you murmur, your voice shaky.

He pulls back immediately, his eyes wide with concern, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His brow furrows in concern, and his voice is low and steady when he speaks. “I’m sorry… I—I didn’t mean to—”

You shake your head, your fingers pressing lightly against his chest, grounding yourself. “No, it’s not that… it’s just—” You pause, looking into his eyes, seeing the question there. “I’m not ready for that. Not yet.”

His shoulders relax, but his gaze doesn’t waver. He nods slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he processes your words. “Okay,” he says, his voice soft but certain. “That’s all you ever have to say, you know? I’m not here to push you into anything.”

You drop your hand from his wrist, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand lingers on your side, the touch no longer exploring but reassuring. “It’s not just that,” you continue, your voice shaky. “I—I don’t feel… good about myself. I know I’m too thin, and I just don’t—”

“Stop,” he interrupts gently, his tone firm but full of warmth. “Don’t do that to yourself, okay? You’re not ‘too’ anything. You’re you, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you glance away, feeling vulnerable under his steady gaze. But Chris isn’t having it. He shifts so that he’s kneeling on the couch in front of you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “Look at me,” he says, his thumbs brushing the corners of your eyes where the tears threaten to spill. “You’re beautiful, m’kay? Not because of what you think you should look like or whatever you’re comparing yourself to. You’re beautiful because you’re you. And I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you of that if I have to.”

The sincerity in his voice leaves you breathless. You blink up at him, and when he sees the tears falling, he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m serious,” he murmurs against your skin. “You never have to explain yourself to me. I’ll always wait for you, no matter how long it takes. Because it’s not about me, or even this. It’s about us.”

You nod, your hands finding their way to his as they rest against your cheeks. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “You don’t have to thank me. I love you, that’s all.”

The two of you stay like that for a long time, the weight of the conversation settling into a comforting quiet. Eventually, Chris pulls you into his arms, shifting so that you’re both lying back on the couch. His hand runs gently up and down your arm, his touch soothing.

He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of your own emotions settle in the safety of his words. He’s not in a hurry. He’s not pushing you. And somehow, that makes everything feel better, more right. The tension that had been building between you two dissolves into something quieter, softer. You still feel the heat of him beside you, the pull of his presence—but now, it feels like something you’re ready to embrace, when the time comes.

And as the night stretches on, you both stay there, wrapped up in each other, waiting for whatever comes next. The promise of more—a promise that can’t be broken.

But as the hours tick by and the night grows colder, you can feel it: things are about to change. The future, unknown and full of possibilities, awaits just beyond the horizon.

And whatever it holds, you know one thing for sure: you’ll face it together.

Months have passed since that night, and the walls you’d so carefully built between the two of you are beginning to feel fragile—like old bricks slowly crumbling, piece by piece. With every moment you’ve spent with Chris since, the weight of the space between you has only grown heavier, more unbearable. There’s something in the air now, a shift that feels as inevitable as the tide. You can feel it in the way he looks at you, in the way his voice deepens when he speaks your name, in the way his hands linger on your body just a little longer than before.

The tension between you both has escalated, winding itself around every glance, every touch, every whispered conversation. What started as tentative steps into new territory—those quiet, soft moments—has gradually transformed into something more intense, more urgent. You’ve grown so close that it’s almost suffocating in the best possible way, each of you navigating the space between comfort and longing, between safety and desire.

You’ve taken things much further now. Your lips no longer linger at the edge of hesitation; they meet his with fervor, with want, with a fire that feels like it could burn through everything in its path. The warmth of his touch sends waves of electricity through you, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You’ve learned every contour of his body, every curve of his smile, the exact way his lips feel against yours.

But none of it is enough.

You’ve built something with Chris, something you know is real, something you can’t imagine living without. But every time his hands trace the line of your back, his fingers brushing against the bare skin under your shirt, every time his lips leave a trail of soft kisses down your neck, it only leaves you wanting more. Not just his touch—not just the feeling of him beside you—but the intensity of everything he makes you feel, the wild, untamed yearning that has settled in your chest, burning brighter with each passing day.

It’s hard to put into words, the way it’s grown. The longing, the craving—it’s like a hunger you can’t ignore, can’t sate, no matter how many times your lips meet, how many times his hands gently pull you closer. You need more. You need him like you’ve never needed anything before. Your body aches for him in a way you hadn’t fully realized until now—until every moment you’ve spent with him has built to this crescendo, this pressure that you can’t push down anymore. It’s there when he smiles at you, his eyes full of mischief and sincerity all at once. It’s there when he touches you, his fingertips grazing your skin like a spark that could light the fuse of something you’ve been holding back for too long.

Tonight, the air feels thick with it. You’re sitting next to him on his couch, the soft hum of his laptop still present in the background, but it’s drowned out by the sound of your breathing, your heart pounding in your chest. The way his hand rests just inches from yours—your fingers brushing, the slightest touch—sets your pulse racing. Every movement he makes is like a promise, every glance, every small laugh, an invitation.

He shifts closer, his thigh pressed against yours, the warmth of his body radiating through your clothes. His arm finds its way around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his side, and for a moment, you just lean into him, taking in the feeling of his proximity. But the moment doesn’t last long. You can’t ignore the way his lips linger near your ear, the way his breath fans over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, teasing, “I’ve been thinking about this... about us... a lot lately.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze. His eyes are darker now, filled with a mixture of warmth and desire that makes your heart skip a beat. He’s not talking about just the past few months of your friendship, not talking about the casual touches or the quiet moments where your hearts would connect in a way you never thought possible. He’s talking about something more, something that neither of you has fully embraced yet.

“I want you, m’kay?” he says, his voice rough around the edges, his hand sliding down to your waist. His fingers press into your side gently, but you can feel the strength in his touch. It’s almost as if he’s trying to hold back, trying to be respectful of the space you’ve both created over the months, but the desire is too strong now.

You breathe out, feeling your chest tighten as he leans in, his lips barely brushing against yours. The kiss is slow, deliberate, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that makes everything else fall away. His hand moves up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, and you feel it—everything you’ve been craving—crash over you in waves.

You’ve always known how much you wanted him, but this? This is different. This feels like a tipping point, a line you’re both about to cross. And as his kiss deepens, as his hand slides down to your back, pulling you closer, you know it’s no longer about holding back. It’s about surrendering to what’s between you, letting it consume you in the way you’ve longed for.

His lips trail down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You tilt your head back slightly, giving him better access, the pulse in your throat beating in time with the wild thrum of your heart. His hands move with purpose now, slipping under your shirt, his fingers grazing the skin of your stomach, sending a wave of heat rushing through you.

And then his fingers find the clasp of your bra. There’s no hesitation now. His touch is confident, sure. You can feel the pressure of his hand against your skin as he works at it, slowly and deliberately. But just as the clasp starts to loosen, you freeze. It’s not that you don’t want him—it’s that you feel yourself on the edge of something, something that makes you nervous but excited all at once.

You place your hand gently on his chest, stopping him. It’s not a rejection; it’s just… a moment of clarity. You pull back slightly, your breath ragged, and meet his eyes. His expression softens, and his lips curl into a small, reassuring smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle, full of concern. “I don’t want to rush you.”

You take a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I want this, Chris. I really do."

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Chris’s side on one of the couches in the triplets party, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Chris was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant rap music Nick played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Chris, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Chris’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Chris quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Chris caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Chris turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Chrissy.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of rap music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Chris’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Chris stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Chri-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Christopher, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Chris.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Chris let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. He felt his throat dry, blue eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Chris was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Chris, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, A sharp groan slips from your lips, the sound escaping before you can stop it. The sharp sting still lingers, a fiery sensation that makes every breath feel a little too heavy. You try to steady yourself, but the pain pulses with each movement, teasing you with its intensity.

You close your eyes, waiting for the sharpness to subside, the heat gradually fading into a dull throb. The tension in your body tightens, but you force yourself to relax, to let the stinging tone down. It’s a slow burn, a lingering reminder of just how real everything feels right now it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Chris- Chris, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

Your mind goes momentarily blank, a fog settling over your thoughts as his hand flattens against your stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock. warm and grounding. The touch sends a ripple of heat through your body, and for a second, it feels as though time slows. Every nerve in your body seems to focus on the gentle pressure of his palm against your skin, pulling your attention to the way it feels—so intimate, so right. Your pulse quickens, your breath hitching as you struggle to gather your thoughts, but the weight of his hand keeps you rooted.

“Do you feel that, sweet girl?” His voice is low, the words curling around your senses, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s not just the question—it’s the way he says it, with that mixture of tenderness and something far deeper, far more possessive. His touch lingers, as if savoring the moment, and your body reacts before you can think. The fog in your mind grows thicker, swept away by the overwhelming sensation of him so close, so present.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Chris. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! I tried to make this accurate or at least how I envision virginity loss for Chris but feel free to correct me! I am very open to constructive criticism. I'm flopping very bad so I don't expect much interactions:))

taglist: @swagalicious260@watercolorskyy@coquettechris@lovesturni0l0s@christmastreecake@ellbowmacaroni@blog-luvdance@sophand4n4@meg4-matt44

NOT PROOFREAD!

[chetter-holmgren]

His eyes are just so pretty 🫠

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐲 | 𝐞.𝐦.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Fem Reader [friends -> lovers]

Summary: You and Eddie ditch the party of the semester to fall into something you both know is meant to be [fluff, 3k]

A/N This is just fun, fluff, and feels. Felt like a vibe while I was writing it. This fic is part 1 of 3.

The music vibrates through the floor so intensely that Eddie can feel it in his bones. Even in the sunroom where he and a few others have settled. The small space gives sight to the backyard, where people mingle as they smoke, illuminated by string lights combating the night’s darkness. Those inside the house with him chatter, sing, and toss their heads back in carefree laughter, feet shuffling against the hardwood as they dance.

The entire scene buzzes with the kind of life only Steve Harrington’s place could ignite on a Friday night. One of these days, he swore he was going to loosen up and allow himself to get swept up in it too. 

For now, he watches. Eyes flitting to various faces, but always returning to you. If you weren’t smiling, you were talking, and the way your lips formed around your words was just as beautiful. The two of you spoke briefly when he first arrived, and he could still feel the delighted hug you’d given him over the fact that he decided to come. He wondered what he’d have to do to make it go away, but good thing he didn’t mind the feeling. It was a reminder of how much he wished your nearness could be all his forever.

Longing was a peculiar thing. Selfish in its occupation of his entire being. 

As Eddie takes another small sip from his drink, something fruity spiked with vodka, The Hair himself saunters up in front of him in a pair of slacks and a Polo sweater. Though rather polished for the occasion, it manages to look fitting on him. His cheeks are a little flushed and the metalhead raises a curious brow as his friend stares down at him with a smirk. 

Rebel Yell starts pulsing through the stereo as Steve offers him a hand off the couch. They end up weaving their way out back. The fall air is cool, but not all of summer’s warmth has vanished. A few people wave and greet them as they head towards a pair of chaise lounge chairs. Billy Idol’s voice is muffled as it continues thrumming from inside. Grooving bodies are visible through the windows as the party carries on. 

Steve pulls out a fancy metal cigarette case before they sit, flipping it open with a soft click. Eddie can’t help but snort as he relaxes into the chair. 

Steve’s brows furrow as he slips out a joint and begins lighting it. “What?” 

Eddie nods to the case in Steve’s lap. “Rich people shit.” 

Steve takes the first couple puffs before passing the joint to Eddie. “Jealous?” 

A smile cracks Eddie's face before he takes a drag. The answer is no, he isn’t. Once upon a time, jealousy was all he burned with, even though he was Hawkin’s poster child for no fucks given and had every reason to be grateful he wasn’t worse off. Grateful for Wayne, that he wasn’t in the pen with his deadbeat father, for finally finding solid friends. He had more than he could ask for, and it took growing up to see it. 

Eddie tips his head back and blows smoke up into the night before giving Steve his turn. What he can’t see is that your eyes have fallen on him from inside the house, sparkling and curious as Robin grins by your side. 

“So did I save you back there or what?” Steve asks as he ashes the joint onto the ground. “Looked like you were zoning in and out, man.” There’s genuine curiosity in his gaze though his tone is playful. 

Growing up with parents like his, Steve had gotten good at reading people. They vacationed a lot, but still managed to walk around with arc reactors in their chests whenever they were home. Bound to detonate in the wake of the most trivial inconveniences. Sometimes he wished he could shut everyone and their feelings out, but he wouldn’t quite be himself then. 

Eddie runs his ringed fingers through his hair. “Just a bit overwhelmed.” 

Steve takes a thoughtful look around. “These kinda things can be a lot.” 

Not even half the faces outside belong to close friends. There was a magic to it, nevertheless. For a few hours, everyone could throw their worries to the wind as Hawkins, Indiana began to feel less like a nowhere town and more like the top of the world. Lord knows Steve didn’t mind the distraction. 

“Not my scene,” Eddie settles on saying. The joint has found its way back into his hand. 

“Everyone’s got their escape,” Steve says. “You’re just too evolved for this one.” 

Eddie snorts. “Shut up.” 

“Yet here you are in the flesh,” Steve continues, thinking as Eddie smokes. “You should tell her how you feel.” 

Eddie coughs, lowering the joint from between his lips. “Dude. Fuck.” 

Steve bites back a smirk as Eddie recovers, extending his hand for the joint. Eddie refuses, taking another drag out of spite, for himself or Steve he isn’t sure. A distant swell of giggles makes multiple heads turn towards the back door, where you and Robin file outside. There’s an immediate flutter in Eddie's gut as he takes you in, your skirt flowing at your thighs. It takes him a second to realize you two are headed their way. 

By the time you make it over, Eddie has straightened up. Meanwhile Steve remains unphased. “Ladies,” Steve greets.  

Robin wrinkles her glittery nose at him. “Why weren’t we invited out here?” 

Chuckling, he makes room for her on his chair and she plops down beside him. “‘Cause you hate the way weed makes you feel like you’re going insane.” He leans into her with each word until she pushes him away with a helpless laugh.

“It’s the principle,” she counters. 

Eddie motions for you to join him and you smile as you take a seat beside him, bumping your shoulder against his in a gentle hello. When he offers you the joint, you shake your head. Steve reaches for it yet again, but Eddie pretends not to notice, taking another drag. A small smile pulls at your lips. 

“Actually, I think I will take a hit.” Eddie doesn’t hesitate passing it to you. 

Rather than indulging, you hand it to Steve, who laughs in victory. Eddie shakes his head, feigning betrayal in a way that earns a laugh out of you. It’s a sweet, melodic sound. He tries to ignore the way your thigh feels pressed against his, but it’s in vain. Even the vanilla notes of your perfume manage to cloud his mind in the softest way. No matter where he was, if you were near, he would always be painfully aware of your presence. 

It was your invitation that had driven him to this party in the first place. Although Steve’s invite came first, your insistence made him change his mind and say yes. Sweaty bodies and blaring music wasn’t your ideal scene either, but you gave in from time to time and looked good doing so. Earlier that night, Eddie almost hadn’t made it through Dancing In the Dark as you and Robin swayed and jumped around like you were alone in your room. There was something about the freeness of the way you moved that made it hard to look away. 

“Munson’s been meaning to tell you something,” Steve announces, looking straight at you.

Eddie’s heart drops into his stomach as he glares at Steve. Robin glances between the two of them, brows furrowed as amusement plays on her lips. You hug your arms as a cool breeze rolls through, but you’re more interested in what Eddie has to say than escaping the chill. In meeting your gaze, however, he silently begs you not to entertain the claim. It only piques your curiosity all the more. 

“Are you gonna spill or what?” Robin prompts.

“There’s nothing to spill,” Eddie insists, looking down to twist his skull ring. 

Reaching over into his lap, you gingerly take his hand into yours to slip off that very ring. He doesn’t pull away or argue, just watches as a helplessly warm feeling melts down his ribcage. His lips twitch upwards when you put it on your thumb because it’s the only finger big enough. It’s warm from being against his own skin for so long. Robin and Steve share a brief, knowing look.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” There’s hope woven within the lilt of your voice. Eddie chuckles, and you commit the breathy sound to memory as if you’ll need it one day more than you do now. 

Robin slaps her hands against her knees. “Well, it’s getting kinda chilly out here so I’m gonna head back inside,” she says, rubbing her arms as she stands. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tease. 

“I’ll stick to something tame like snooping around in Harrington’s room,” she says as she turns to leave. Steve rolls his eyes.

A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. However, his brows eventually pinch together as he reconsiders Robin’s words. Taking one last drag, he passes the joint back to Eddie.   

“She was joking, Steve,” you assure him, chuckling. 

“No she wasn’t,” he worries as he stands to jog back into the house. Eddie snickers. 

With a soft sigh, you lean back onto your hands, looking towards the sky as silence falls again. There are a few clouds visible in the light of the crescent moon, but the stars are everywhere. Like tiny shining freckles peppered against the face of the night. Part of you wonders if he’ll talk now. 

“What if the stars have been watching us back our entire lives?” you murmur. 

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he looks over at you, chest rattling with a startled laugh. “That’s something to think about.” His eyes are a bit glossier now. “Don’t think I’d mind if that were true.” 

You tilt your head, a smile budding on your face. “You wouldn’t mind billions of little eyes observing your day-to-day life?” you ask. “That’s a pretty big audience.” 

A grin eases across his face, half playful, half cocky. “I’m a pretty interesting guy.”

You lift a teasing shoulder, feigning indifference. “You’re alright.” 

Eddie laughs, but a weighted look flickers in his eyes as he studies you, catching the fondness you hadn’t tried all that hard to hide. Even with the pleasant buzz beneath his skin and somewhat of a looser mind, he can see it clearly. 

“Hey,” you speak up again. There’s a new softness to your voice, something mischievous dancing around the edges. “Wanna get outta here?” 

Eddie blinks like he can’t quite believe you’ve asked, but finds himself saying yes anyways.

••• 

Sitting in the passenger seat in his van, you realize you didn’t think much further than this. The air smells like him in all the best ways. Pinewood and faint cigarette smoke. As the engine rumbles to life, you shift in your seat and peek over at him, your confidence a distant memory. The radio bursts to life as well, but he quickly reaches out to turn it down. You bite back a smile at the fact that his skull ring is missing from his finger because it’s on yours. Eddie settles in with a sigh, turning to you. 

“So,” he says, eyes sparkling and a little red under the glow of the street lights. 

There’s an intensity to the warmth of his gaze. It drives you to hide your face in your hands. Which does nothing to make him disappear, if the way he exhales a chuckle is any indicator. “Stop looking at me, I didn’t think this far ahead.” There’s no real distress in your voice, only giddiness mixed with nerves. 

“Now I feel like an idiot,” you whine. 

“Well, you’re not.” He sounds more sincere than the moment calls for. “And I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop looking at you, so I guess we’re both in a pickle.” 

“A pickle?” You snort, lowering your hands to meet his gaze. More laughter escapes you. Maybe it’s your body's way of not having to address the implication of his words. 

There’s a flutter in his gut as he watches you. It’s like old times, back when you were freshmen who stayed up too late laughing over the most ridiculous things. Except now, you were more than the girl who sat beside him in Biology because you thought it was cool he had a tattoo. You’d grown into a friend, perhaps even more. As composure finds its way back to you, that truth weighs heavy in the small distance between you.  

Eddie clears his throat. “We could hang at mine for a bit. Wayne’s at work.” When you don’t say anything, he bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s up to you.”  

“Sorry, yeah, that sounds good,” you breathe. 

Eddie gears the van into drive, only to put it back in park with a heavy exhale. You blink when angles himself to look at you, opening his mouth a few times before speaking. 

“There is something I need to tell you,” he admits. “No way in hell did I ever think we’d be friends, but you’re the raddest person I’ve ever met.” A lump forms in your throat as his words wash over you. “And you’re so pretty that sometimes I wonder how every guy in the world isn’t giving you whatever you want all the time.” 

You can hear your heart in your ears as you say, “Maybe that’s ‘cause there’s only one guy I want in the world.” 

•••

A small sound of surprise rises up your throat when Eddie backs you against his bedroom door. His apology is hushed against your lips as he continues kissing you, hands gentle where they grip at your waist, feeling along your sides. You’re warm all over as if you’re laid out before the sun, arms hooked around his neck. It hadn’t occurred to him how much he wanted to kiss you until you looked at his alarm clock and realized that it’d probably be best if he drove you home. It was well past midnight. Time had escaped you as you talked and laughed. 

When he does pull away, he studies your face like he’s looking for something. A few seconds pass, and he still doesn’t know what for. Perhaps your smile as it shyly appears. You move your hands to cup his face, thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks. You’ve never been close enough to notice he has the faintest freckles over the bridge of his nose. It almost feels like you’re getting a glimpse at sacred markings you’re not supposed to see. 

Eddie remembers to breathe when you peck his lips again, running your fingers through his hair. His breath is startled out of him, more like. It’s a wonder his knees haven’t buckled beneath him. He wants to kiss you again to see if that’ll finally knock him back down to earth, but instead he exhales the softest sigh over your lips, squeezing your hips to confirm you’re real. He’s not expecting the sense of guilt that creeps up on him. 

Your brows pinch together. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just… I haven’t taken you on a date or bought you flowers.” He swallows. “I swear you’re worth all that, swear I’m gonna.” 

You gently scratch his scalp. “That’s nothing to worry yourself over.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m just trying to come onto you,” he says. “I like you a lot—”  

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever too.” Your voice sounds braver than you feel. 

A smile breaks across his face as he rests his forehead against yours. “Well, that’s maddening news.” 

Humming, you kiss him again, delicately running your tongue along his lips so he shivers. “Where are we gonna go?” you breathe, clarifying when he makes a soft, confused sound, “For our first date.” With the way you continue kissing him, he assumes you don’t really want an answer, that you’re trying to drive him crazy on purpose. 

His mind changes when you gently push his chest so he knows to pull away. He listens immediately, eyes dazed. 

“Maybe the arcade,” you supply, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Or a picnic by the lake.” Your hands slip under his shirt, gracing the skin of his lower stomach, your touch sending a rush of heat through him faster than any high ever could. 

You’re not trying to be suggestive, it’s more exploratory. A shared thrill in finally being able to touch him how you’ve wanted for so long. Eddie’s hands remain at your waist, grounding him even as he feels his resolve starting to slip. 

As much as he wants to indulge a step further, maybe even several, he holds himself back. It might be old-fashioned, but he wants to do this right, do a bit of course correction. He can almost hear Uncle Wayne’s voice from those lazy afternoons of his younger years, talking about life and how to treat a lady. 

“Next Friday,” he says, staring into your eyes intently. “It’ll be nice. I’ll surprise you,” he promises, taking your hands in his, relishing their softness, their warmth. His skull ring is still on your thumb. 

“Really?” Your smile is unabashed. 

He nods, a grin creeping onto his face. “It’s a date.” 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think. 

Turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting so you don’t miss the next one.

NEXT PART (18+)

MORE

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (����) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[feyascorner]

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

[vixensbrainrotts]

TR men reacting to little kids wooing you

Content: reactions

Tropes: established relationship

Warnings: none (lmk if im wrong)

Summary: A little boy, perhaps four or five of age comes waddling over to you two whilst you're out on a date together and offers you a flower, confessing his spontaneous love for you. How does your man react to that?

Vixen’s two cents: hi! This has been sitting in my drafts forever so i need to get it out cause it’s collecting cobwebs. It’s sort of a random idea but whatever, i found it entertaining. Also im editing this in the car and its giving me a stroke why is the road so fucking uneven? If you have any ideas for me to write please please please my requests ans messages are open! Yeah, let me know if there are any other characters that fit those types and enjoy!

(Takemichi, Chifuyu, Souya, Hakkai, Shinichiro, Sanzu (I don’t care what anyone says. Shy Sanzu is forever on my agenda), Inui)

Nearly deceased type, it took him so long to get you. How HOW is this little ass kid wooing you better than he could ever dream of? What the actual fuck was happening? He couldn’t believe his eyes when that actual toddler came up to you with a flower, the stem freshly plucked, and a glimmer in the kid‘s hopeful eyes. The boy had almost serenaded you the way he sang praises to you: „excuse me miss, you’re really pretty! Would you accept my flower please?“. And what was even more unbelievable, was when you giggled and accepted the flower giddily. Then the little boy crossed the line: „can I have a kiss in return Miss?“. And you did. You pecked the cheek of the boy meek two minutes after meeting him! Unbelievable! It took him 3 dates to even hold your hand. Outrizzed by a five year old.

(Nahoya, Mikey, Baji)

Ready to fight the kid. He's deadass about it too, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckels and snapping the kinks in his neck, looking menacingly at that poor little boy. He doesn't care that this may be the kid's first crush, he'll crush him in return. You were his damnit and he was gonna prove it to anyone who tried him. Kids included. When you pull at his arm though, prompting him to calm down, he stops a little. What do you mean you dont want him to establish his dominance? He's genuinely stumped and just kinda stares at you for a second, watching you intensely as you lean down to the boy, whispering something in his little ear and taking the flower from him. The boy giggles at you, his former horror dissipated, instead replaced with a furious blush that spread all the way down his neck and up his ears. He blew you a kiss before skipping away, giddily going back to whatever he was doing beforehand. Your boyfriend turns you around by the shoulders immediately and gives you a harmless glare. “What the fuck was that about?” But he doesn’t get a response, as you just wrap your arms around him and laugh. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous!” Well… that wasnt the answer he was looking for but he’ll take it.

(Ran, Shion, Draken, Benkei, Wakasa)

Sitting back and watching the show. He finds the little kids advances hilarious and will gladly watch the little shrimp try to win you over whilst you’re trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. “So sweets, how old are you anyway?” The boy asks you with a smirk on his face. “Too old for you.” You answer incredulously, just about ready to cry from laughter. “No no no baby, no one has to know! It can just be between the two of us and that’s fineeee!” He draws out the syllables and leans one elbow on table you and your boyfriend are sitting at. Your boyfriend all the while has probably pulled out a phone, discreetly filming the whole thing whilst leaning back and hiding his tears. You shoot both boys an amused look and then answer the awaiting kid. “Come back to me in a few years and maybe we can arrange something, yeah?” The little kids eyes widen as he looks at you with a determined smile. “Yes! You won’t regret it! And I’ll beat up your wannabe boyfie over here once I’m strong enough too!” He exclaims and runs off leaving you howling in laughter and your boyfriend, who is suddenly enraged by a child, fumes silently, sending daggers across the room. “Relax baby.” You reach a hand over the table to hold his, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Don’t touch me.” He hisses and puts the phone down, crossing his arms in fake offense.

(Hanma, Kokonoi, Izana, Rindou)

The false hope typa guy. In this case, the boy made the mistake of coming up to HIM and innocently asking for your name. “Why, you like what you see?” Your boyfriend uses language much too mature for the little kid, but he gets a timid response of “yeah, she’s real pretty..” nevertheless. Your boyfriend chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. “I say go for it, I’m sure you’ve got a chance with her!” The little boy has wide eyes and an open mouth “Really? You sure she doesn’t have some super big ‘n scary boyfriend?” He has to suppress laughter when he answers. “I’m sure she doesn’t, go talk to her, ask her for her name and tell her that I said hi too.” And with that, he’s sent the kid on his way. Your boyfriend watches him shyly go up to you and pat your leg slightly to get your attention. He watches you smile down at the little boy and talk to him, your eyes widening and laughing when you exchange a few words with the kid. When he sees fit, he comes stalking over to the two of you and wraps his arm around your waist and smirks at the kid. “Hey there.” You greet your boyfriend and turn to look at him. “Have you met—“ he guesses that you’re about to introduce him to the little boy but he doesn’t care to listen, and leans down to shush your lips with a long, over-the-top kiss, even going as far as to cracking one eye open to look at the little boys horrified face before finally pulling away. You’re a little dazed and very confused when you look down and find your little admirer gone. You throw your boyfriend an accusing look but he only raises his hands in surrender, claiming innocent with a smug smile on his face.

[msfantasy-comics]

The Family Meet and Greet

Damian Wayne x Reader

Request/Summary: Hey hun! I wanted to send in a request for Damian Wayne x reader. Maybe reader being introduced to the family/the family finding out about them?

A/n: Honestly I can’t tell if the picture is Tim or Damian.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Damian is a pretty private person and doesn’t intend to do an awkward meet and greet with his beloved girlfriend.

He knew that all of his family members would find out one way or another anyway.

Dick Grayson:

It wouldn’t take a genius detective to know that Damian is asking for advice for his love life.

Damian sits in his hero costume, hunched over as his legs dangle over the side of the building. His eyes evade Dicks, a red hue spreading across the tips of his ears.

A soft smile embellishes Dicks lips as he sees his younger brother whom is typically egocentric, now looking timid and shy for the first time ever.

“So my friend started seeing someone recently and he had this dilemma on if he should keep seeing her or not because on one hand he has all this baggage he doesn’t want to burden her with and on the other hand he just can’t bring himself to break things off with her.”

“So this girl your seeing-“ Damian’s eyes bulge, snapping his neck towards Dick, acting too defensively.

“Ugh, are you not listening Grayson? I said it’s about my friend.”

“Right, right, I forgot. My bad…” Dick think’s carefully on his words. “Sounds like your friend is a classic over-thinker. Relationships are far from logical, it’s all based on feelings. It might be hard for your friend, but just enjoy it for what it is.” Damian sits and stares off over the Gotham skyline looking unconvinced. “Look Dames, there is no right answer. Just do what feels right.”

Leaning back into his palms he stares in amusement at his beloved younger brother continues pining in anguish.

“So… how long do we keep pretending that we aren’t talking about you? Can I see a picture?” Damian rolls his eyes with a sigh, sliding his phone out of his pocket, he taps on the screen silently before shoving his phone into Dicks hands.

There laid the image a happy couple. Damian’s arms wrapped around your shoulder. The dark city filtering behind the brightly lit couple, forever captured in permanent laughter.

Dick, initially keen to tease the cheesy photo before him, now silent in pure aw to see the genuine smile, Damian’s eyes lit in adoration.

“Do not tell anyone Grayson. I will share the news when I am ready.”

Tim Drake:

The little rat has been acting rather odd.

Tim tried talking about it to Dick but he just kept evading his questions by pathetically redirecting his attention with someone else’s random drama.

They’re both acting weird and secretive, and there is no way Tim is going to be kept out of such an intriguing mystery.

Usually Tim would just stalk his targets, but this is Damian we are talking about. It is incredibly difficult, if not impossible to track Damian without him noticing. Starting with Damian’s social media, Tim pin points all of the photo locations and begins to visit each site one at a time. He hacks the local cameras and reviews the footage from around the date the photo was uploaded.

Low and behold, footage of Damian smooshing his face into another ladies face….

Whelp, Tim was certainly not expecting to see such a DISGUSTING display of affection. YUCK.

He didn’t even know the rat could even feel those types of feelings.

Tim, now laying on his bed cuddled up to a pillow is looking… traumatised.

Sometimes, it’s better just not to know.

Barbara Gordon

No freaking way.

Barbara could not believe her very eyes.

When completing a Internet background check on the Wayne family to scrub any suspicious allegations or accusations, Babs found the Holy Grail of finds.

An account with a mysterious woman with months worth of photos with the Wayne’s local angsty brat, Damian Freaking Wayne.

When completing a generic photo match search. Lovey, dovey poses with Damian and a girl by the name Y/n flashed up on the screen.

This is juicy! To tell Bruce or not to tell Bruce, that is the question.

Jason Todd

Disgusting. Absolutely foul.

It’s a random Tuesday evening when Jason jumps roof tops only to discover a couple making out all hot and heavy.

Their bodies tangling together as the man rips his shirt off. The girl sliding her hands along his abdomen before landing on his belt buckle.

The man then slides his hands from the back of her neck to her ass, giving it a needy grope before sliding his hands to the back of her thighs, lifting the woman with ease and pressing her against the wall.

This is hilarious, they have no idea Gothams most infamous Vigilante has caught them about to get down and dirty on Gothams roof top.

Jason sat down and ate his figurative pop-corn in humourous delight, until his eyes adjust.

“Ain’t no FUCKING way!” Jason yells, humours delight now churning into a disturbed nausea. He swallowed the bile raising up in his throat.

Pulling out his phone he calls Damian. Panting breaths filter through the phone, only furthering Jason’s disgust.

“What?! I’m in the middle of-“

“I know what your in the middle of you sick bastard! Take it indoors!” The line goes quite for just a moment. “Little freak, your family patrols the roof tops you know, ugh, I can’t - I’m having a flash back to Selina and Bru- ugh I’m gonna vomit.”

Duke

“Finally!” Duke announces, hoping over the back of the couch and sprawling out on the soft cushions of the plush couch. Without a second to spare Duke switches the TV on to watch the latest episode of his favourite show.

“Thomas-“

“No talking!” Duke wholesomely announces, crossing his arms over his chest.

“My phone… forget it.” Damian grumbles, seeing Dukes eyes glued to the TV. Squishing further into the cushions, Duke feels the uncomfortable poke of a hard object pressing into his rib.

Wrenching the wretched object from its place, Duke holds a phone. His haphazard fingers pressing into the screen which lights up and shows the text of a person named Y/n.

Y/n: Can’t wait for our date tonight, I miss your handsome face xx

Dukes cheeks heats up, seeing a private message he shouldn’t have seen. Damian is incredibly private and may murder Duke for accidentally learning something he wasn’t suppose to.

Wiping any evidence of his fingers touching the phone Duke places the phone back between the cushions.

Best if he just abandons his show for now for a tactical retreat.

Bruce Wayne

God, why are his kids so weird?

Seriously? Out of all 20 of them, not a single one was normal…

Sitting at the head of the dinner table, he watches his children talk amoungst themselves in weird cryptic speeches.

“Do you know what I know?” Tim asks intensely, the broccoli wedged on his fork, pointing at Dick, who stares back wide-eyed.

“I don’t know anything … why what do you know?” Dick says scanning the rest of the room to see if they somehow knew what Dick was referring to.

“I can’t share what I know, but just know it. Is. Juicy.” Babs announces with a sly and taunting grin.

“I don’t know anything, I didn’t even want to see it. Oh god, I’m feeling queasy.” Jason says crossing his arms over his stomach.

“IDidntSeeAnythingEither.” Duke announces quickly, and begins to quickly Hoover his dinner.

Damian sighs, massaging his temples at his idiotic siblings.

“So I take it that you have all found out about Y/n?” Bruce asks calmly, slowly sawing into the plump steak on his plate.

The room falls dead silent as all heads turn towards Bruce, surprised that he knew and surprised that he had the guts to say what everyone else was thinking.

“Father, how do you know about Y/n?”

“… I’m Batman.”

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 9: The Harassment

His children are already waiting for him the moment he and Alfred walk in the door, no doubt aware of everything that’s happened concerning him and their brother.

As expected, his reunion with you had been posted on the internet and every major news outlet has been talking about it ever since, especially the Gotham Gazette and the Daily Planet. Fuel was added to the fire this morning when he met you at the airport after Lex dropped you off and tried to get to agree to talk to him, you yelled so hard that the entire airport stopped to watch you tear into him, only stoping when security stepped in.

He ignored all the stares as he watched your plane take off for Nevada, far away from your family and home. And he was greeted by a crowd of reporters when he returned to Gotham, all of them flashing their cameras and shouting questions over one another.

He did his best to hide his hurt when many of them asked why were you not present for any of the family functions or galas over the past twelve years.

He wanted to say he was protecting you from the limelight; that you had just lost your mother and the last thing you needed was to be bombarded by those parasites who feed on misery to turn a quick buck, but of all the lies he’s forced himself to say, that would be one lie he couldn’t force out of his mouth, opting instead to vomit everything he has in his guts.

Because he knows the truth: he neglected you. No amount of beating around the bush could eve change the fact that he’s never had a genuine conversation with you. From the moment you arrived at his home, you were ignored because he was too busy wallowing in his own suffering that he couldn’t see you were suffering, too.

Plus, there was no doubt in his mind that if he did say that, it would get back to you and you’d be more than glad to set the record straight.

“That video of you and Y/N’s already gone viral,” Tim says, not looking up from his phone. “It had over a million views in just ten minutes. Now, it’s nearing a billion.”

He suppresses a sigh. Of course a video of playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne getting his ass handed to him by his previously unknown firstborn biological son would go viral.

“I could scrub it, if you want,” Tim adds.

If anyone could absolutely scrub a video from the internet and condemn it to the void, Tim absolutely could. But, as much as he wants that video of you tearing into him gone forever, the memory of it would live on in his memory for the rest of his life; the hatred and pain in your eyes haunts him every time he closes his eyes.

Also, at this rate, there’s no closing this Pandora’s Box. The world knows you’re his son and that he obviously wronged you. People aren’t going to forget that anytime soon.

Since last night, he’s monitored the Gould Games Pixtagraph page and before his reunion with him, you were sitting at following of a couple tens of thousands, but after last night, your following jumped up to several millions, your studio is tagged in countless reposts of that damn video, and so many people are asking you to explain your relationship with him.

So far, you’ve yet to say anything about your time living with them. On one hand, he’s glad you haven’t responded as it gives them time to do damage control and plan their next move concerning you, but on the other hand, he’s hurt because you don’t deem him worth your time to badmouth him on the internet.

“It’s fine, Tim,” he responds, ruffling his son’s hair as he walks towards the living room, Alfred and his children following behind.

The moment he walks in, his eyes immediately go to the family portrait sitting on the wall above the mantle, a family portrait that doesn’t include you. Before he got his head out of his ass, every time he looked at the painting, it filled him with pride and a sense that despite all his failings, he had done the best he could for his children and created a family that he’s proud of.

Now? That portrait is a constant reminder of how much he’s failed you. He can remember the day he had the portrait commissioned (a few months after Damian moved in with them and when Bruce was sure he wouldn’t attack the artist), he had fought all morning to have his kids dressed in their formal clothing and to behave before the artist arrived. Hell, he can remember the artist asking if this was everyone, he had said all members of the family were here.

While they were downstairs, having a family portrait made, you were alone and upstairs in a room not fit for any human to stay in.

How many times had you looked at this portrait and thought it was proof you weren’t a part of this family and no one even remembered you.

He wants to take it down right now and burn it, but that won’t get rid of his guilt. Nothing will change the fact that he had commissioned this portrait and you were left out, that he cared so little about you back then that you didn’t even cross his mind when he was corralling everyone to the living room the day it was made.

Fuck, he just wants to tear out his own heart just thinking about what you must’ve thought of them over the years.

Well, as soon as you come home, he’ll have that same artist paint a new portrait; one with all of them surrounding you and looking at you with nothing but love in their gazes.

“Based on the video, last night didn’t go well,” Jason asks with a hint of sarcasm, but Bruce hears the hurt and guilt in his voice.

He opens his mouth to respond, but closes it, unable to trust himself not to break down, the last thing his family needs.

He knows that his behavior was unacceptable and that he has no right to ask you to leave a place you clearly love to come back to the house that caused you so much pain and sadness over the years.

But now that he knows his mistakes, all he wants is for you to come home so he can shower you in the love he should’ve shown you. To make you a part of his family as is your birthright. To show you off to Gotham’s elite in massive galas at the manor and revel in the looks of envy when they realize they can look all they want, but they’ll never get the privilege of speaking or courting you. To display you for the entire world to behold and watch as your family heaps their undying love upon you.

But in order for any of that to happen, they need to find a way to get you speaking to them, something that may prove to be more difficult than crime fighting.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred says, breaking home out of his stupor. “If I may make a suggestion?” Bruce nods, eager to hear the butler’s wise words. “Maybe send one of the children to talk to Master Y/N? I had a feeling that the young man still held animosity towards you, but I never thought he would lash out the way he did last night.”

As much as he hates to admit it, Alfred’s right. You hate him, last night proved that, and you have every right to.

“But who isn’t gonna piss him off,” Steph chimes in, all eyes on her now. “I mean, we all did what Bruce did. What’s saying he won’t do to us what he did to Bruce?”

It seems with each passing day, he feels more and more like a pathetic excuse of a man. It’s one thing for you to be mad at him (god knows he deserves it and he’s definitely not the easiest person to get along with), but for you to hold that same hatred for your siblings as you do him? His family’s falling apart at the seams and he’s powerless to stop it.

His parents are probably so disappointed in him right now.

“I’ll go,” Damian announces. “I’m his blood-brother. No doubt he’ll be more receptive to me than the rest of you.”

“You’re the last person who should go,” Jason mutters. “Let me go. I’ll bring him back.”

He knows Jason will most likely bring you back home by your ankles and as much as he’s tempted to bring you home, forcing your return isn’t the proper way to start the healing process. He’s confident that they could handle any difficulties you gave them, but he wants to keep kidnapping last resort.

“Let me go,” Dick begs. “If there’s anyone who knows how to talk to people in this family, it’s me.”

Unfortunately, Dick’s the only one in this family who knows how to have genuine heart-to-heart talks with anyone, specifically members of their family. As much as he wants to fly over to Nevada and bear his heart out to you, he knows that he’s the last person you want to talk to and him repeatedly approaching you would only make things worse for them.

Also, you need him, but Gotham also needs Batman; bar the usual Arkham escape and petty criminal activity, things have been quiet since Joker’s death, but if he’s gone too long, the city’s criminal element will become more active.

And he needs to make Gotham safe for you when you return home.

“Alright, Dick,” he sighs. “Go. Bring your brother back. Take the jet.”

Dick cheers and his other children roar in outrage, but Bruce leaves them to settle their disagreement themselves.

“How was it, Master Bruce,” Alfred asks as the butler follows him to the Batcave. “To see Master Y/N again after so long?”

“I can’t believe how much he’s changed,” he responds as he walks down the stone staircase.

It’s true, when you stepped on stage to accept your award, he was shocked to see how much you’ve grown; if he tries hard enough, he can vaguely recall what you looked like when you first moved in: a scrawny little boy who looked like hell.

Of course you did back then, you just lost your mother and had been dragged away from your home and everything you’d ever known to live with a man you’d never met before in a city you probably never heard of, so it would make sense. All you wanted back then was your father to hug you and tell you everything would be ok and that you weren’t alone.

But he was too selfish to give you what you needed back then. He deemed his own grief greater than yours, the city’s needs greater than yours. And if it wasn’t bad enough he neglected you, he had to go and replace with you with your siblings.

And if he tries harder, he can recall what you looked like when you were fifteen, which was not long after Damian moved in with them. He can remember an incident involving you, Damian, and some sort of pen. Sure, it was stupid for you to fight Damian over some stupid little pen, but he should’ve listened to you back then. He knew Damian hated you on sight because he felt like you were a threat to the legacy Ra’s and Talia spent years putting in his mind; he should’ve stepped in back then because you had no idea how to defend yourself while Damian was trained by an assassin who’s lived for centuries, but he gave Damian the benefit of the doubt, leaving his younger son to grow out of his assassin upbringing.

The last thing he remembers about that incident was him demanding the pen for Damian and you telling him no. Back then, he was angry at you for defying him, but now, he admires that you did. Even though you were shorter than him and weaker than him, you stood your ground.

As much as you probably hate to hear it, you’re just like him.

And last night, he saw you as a successful, confident young man. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw just how much you’d grown (and how he wasn’t a part of your life).

And when you gave that speech?

He’s not ashamed to admit it brought a tear to his eye.

He knows he wronged you, but to know you view your time with him and your siblings hit him like a freight train. And to add insult to injury, the entire world now knows you hate him; hate him enough to lash out at him in public.

His head throbs a bit when he thinks at the amount of damage control he’s gonna have to do to avoid raising too much attention when you come home.

“He’s changed so much,” he sighs as he sits in front of the Batcomputer, his fingers typing away at the keys. “There’s so much I wasn’t there for.”

“Yes, Master Y/N has certainly grown into a fine young man,” Alfred responds. “He takes after his mother.”

That statement makes him pause. You share none of his features, nearly everything coming from your mother; the only thing tying you to him is DNA and his mother’s eyes. As if it wasn’t bad enough you don’t share his last name (he’ll have to look into that when you come home), but if he didn’t know better, he’d never know you were his son.

It also didn’t make him better that Alfred was the one to practically be your father. God knows Alfred raised not only him, but his children, but to know that the wise old butler stepped up to the position he failed to only makes the pit of guilt he’s in even deeper.

He can spend the rest of his life making it up to you and he’ll never even scratch the surface of his transgressions.

As expected, Tim spent the last day gathering every piece of information about you, from your report cards from Goodsprings Elementary to your tax records while you were working during your time in Gotham (and while he’s glad you got out there and found a job you loved, it pained him to know that you had to work while he had more than enough money to give you like he gives your siblings).

He pulls up your medical records (for dozens of doctor’s appointments he wasn’t there for) and sees the last one you had was just before your eighteenth birthday (a major event he didn’t even think of) and according to it, you were in perfect health.

He leans forward as he speed reads it before comparing it to all your other appointments.

“Something unusual, Master Bruce?”

“His medical records,” he answers as he pulls up your records from the day you were born. “I’m looking for any abnormality.”

“Like what?”

“The Meta Gene.”

“What,” Alfred exclaims. “Why would you assume he has the Meta Gene?”

“Last night, when he pushed me. There’s no way he should’ve been able to punch me the way he did. I’m taller and have more weight than he does.”

“That doesn’t necessarily prove anything, Master Bruce.”

He looks Alfred in the eye. “I could tell there was something unusual with his strength, Alfred. And I could tell he was holding back.”

The poor butler looks defeated and Bruce resumes his research.

He’s made his stance on Metas in Gotham known to all: none are allowed to enter and Gotham will be protected only by human strength, determination, and intelligence.

But if you do have the gene, it doesn’t change anything, you’re still his son and your proper place is here, with him, Alfred, and your siblings. He’ll just have to prepare the Cave to hold you.

“There’s no sign of the gene in any of his records, but regular equipment isn’t as thorough as the equipment we have in the cave. We’ll need a fresh sample.”

“That may be easier said than done, Master Bruce. Your son doesn’t even want to give you the time of day, I highly doubt he’ll give you a blood sample. Perhaps you could obtain one from his doctor?”

“Not an option. Look.” He pulls up your last medical record. “The last time he saw a doctor was his eighteenth birthday. There’s no sign of him at any doctor’s office in the last four years.”

“No doctor’s appointments in the last four years? I’m going to have a word with him when he returns.” He gives Bruce a look. “Looks like he did inherit something from you, after all.”

As much as he wishes to know there’s something concrete you got from him, he really hopes it’s not his lack of self care. Of course, there’s plenty of him he hopes you don’t inherit from him, but not taking care of yourself is at the top of the list.

Well, second on his list. His inability to properly care for his family would be on top.

“Hopefully Dick will make some progress.”

To say Dick is both excited and nervous is a gross understatement.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s ecstatic to see you, his baby bird, but he’s so worried about how you’ll react to him.

He knows he wasn’t the best big brother (actually, he wasn’t a brother to you at all), but he knows he screwed up and he wants to make it up to you!

In fact, if you want, the two of you can hang out in Vegas (although someone innocent like you shouldn’t be in a filthy place like that), eating at some of best restaurants there, taking in a few shows, and if you insist, he’ll go with you to a casino (that he’ll choose) and play a few games. After that, the two of you can book a room in the best hotel in Vegas (hopefully you’ll be ok with cuddling with your big brother) and in the morning, you’ll come back to Gotham with him.

He takes in your house as he walks up the driveway. He’s happy to know your grew up in a nice house and your mom provided for you (not many of his siblings had the same luxury) and he loves that he’s getting to see your house with his own eyes, but come on, baby bird, this house is too small for someone like you!

You’re a growing boy and you need something bigger! He knows you make videos games (he played your game and gave it a good review), so you need a place to work, and everyone knows the manor has more rooms than they know what to do with. And do you even have enough space to walk around in your room?

His heart aches when he thinks of that pathetic excuse of a room you were forced to sleep in back at the manor. To know his baby bird was sleeping in a room the size of a walk-in closet while he was practicing his gymnast moves in his room—

“That’s in the past,” he tells himself. “It’s not like that anymore.”

It’s true, Bruce had Alfred get the empty bedroom next to his ready for you, complete with a bed large enough for four people (he can’t wait to have sleepovers with you), a solid oak desk perfect for you to play and work on the new computer they got you, and filled with plushies, posters, and figures from all the video games they know you’re into.

And if there’s something missing from it, he’ll be more than happy to run out and buy it for you!

And if it wasn’t bad enough that the house was too small for you, you lived all alone on the edge of this small town. Come on, baby bird, you need your siblings to keep you company! You must be so lonely living in this house by yourself and no neighbors around.

The family’s already made plans to hang out with you: Bruce has already planned a whole gala for you, Dick plans on taking you to arcades and movie theatres, Jason’s read all your mom’s books and wants to talk about each of them with you, Tim’s called dibs on any and all video game activities with you, Babs wants to bring you to the library and hang out with her and maybe go out for coffee, Steph and Cass want to take you shopping and out to eat at all their favorite restaurants, and Damian has demanded that you go on walks with him every night after dinner and allow him to paint you.

He knows you’ve set up a good life here in your old hometown and he’s so proud of you for going out and making your mark on the world, but you need to come home. You’ll probably be sad on having to leave your childhood home, but your family misses you and the world’s too dangerous for someone like you to be on your own.

You have your family, so you don’t need to work when they can take care of you! And if you want to, you can come down here once or twice a year and check on the place (with one of them accompanying you, of course).

He knocks on your door with his usual playful knock he uses on his other siblings’ doors and waits. When he doesn’t hear any footsteps from the other side, he does it again.

“Y/N,” he calls out. “It’s me.”

He knows you’re home, your car’s in the driveway (Bruce owes you a better car, that one isn’t fit for you) and your phone’s GPS signal is clearly inside.

“Y/N,” he calls out even louder. “I know you’re in there!”

Finally, after forever, the door opens, revealing you; you open the door just enough to stick your head out. He’s blown away by how much you’ve grown; of course he saw the video (you really need to learn violence doesn’t solve anything, baby bird), but it doesn’t compare to seeing you in person. You’ve grown up from that teen boy into a fine looking young man, even if you look like you want to set him on fire right now.

“What the hell are you doing here,” you growl, taking the wind out of his sails just a little bit.

“Is it weird a big brother wants to see his little brother,” he says, flashing you his trademark wide grin.

“You’re not my brother and I don’t want you here.”

Ok, now that definitely took the wind out of his sails completely.

“Of course we’re brothers,” he responds, letting out an awkward chuckle. “I know I didn’t do a good job at it, but—”

“We’re not brothers, Dick,” you interject. “You were there for everyone else, but not me. You never viewed me as a priority.”

“That’s not true—“

“Yes it is, Dick! You didn’t say anything to me when we first met, you constantly went out of your way to hang out with Tim and the others and left me out of the fun every time, and when Damian attacked me with a fucking sword, you took his side and told me to let it go! And you have the nerve to call yourself my brother? Where do you get the fucking audacity?”

Alright, you have a few points. He should’ve included you when he hung out with the others. And yes, Damian had a rough upbringing, but that didn’t give him the right to take his sword and hurt you like that.

“I know, I know, I screwed up. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. But I know I did you wrong, we all did, but we want to make it up to you. To bring you back home and show you the love we should’ve showed you from the beginning.”

“But I am home, Dick. Gotham was never my home and I didn’t lose twelve years of my life in that damn mansion in a city of the damned just to go back to it, surrounded by people I hate.”

Hate. That one word pierces his heart like a spear. He knows they’re probably not you favorite people in the world, but to know you hate them…

It hurts.

“Baby bird, you don’t mean—“

“Mean it? I absolutely do. You people ignored me for years, treated me like I was just a nuisance, that I obviously didn’t belong in your perfect home and your perfect family. You clearly didn’t want me there and I felt the same.”

“But we—“

“I don’t care how you feel. You obviously remembered me, probably thanks to something Alfred did, and feel guilty over how you treated me and that guilt is making you think I owe you a second chance. That’s why you’re here, Dick. To being me back to Gotham because he knows he can’t emotionally manipulate me.”

Each word you speak cuts him to his core. To know how much low you see them makes him want to cry.

You’re just saying this because they hurt you.

That’s right, they hurt you and now you want to hurt them. He gets it, baby bird. If this is what it takes to get you back home, you can berate him all you want.

But, he needs to get you back home, first. So, as much as he hates to use it, he’ll have to use his ace card. You might be scared when he tells you, but he’ll be with you as long as it takes and answer any questions you have.

“Look, I know it doesn’t justify everything we did, but there’s a reason why we were always not around. It’s because—“

“You’re Nightwing. Is that what you were going to say?”

He feels his heart stop and his blood go cold at your words.

What?

“What?”

“That you’re Nightwing. That’s what you were about to say, right?”

A moment passes as he processes your words. Once again, the wind is taken out of his sails, but this time, it feels like you just sucker punched him in the gut to do so.

You know their secret? For how long?

“How—“

“Wow, you must really think I’m that fucking stupid to not notice that. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but none of you are as subtle as you think you are. I lived there for twelve years and you really think I didn’t notice you all in costume, see your gear left strewn across the house, and hear you talking about criminals when I was right behind you?”

“I never thought you were stupid,” he defends himself.

Really, he never thought you were stupid! He saw your school records, you were a great student (struggled in math a bit, but that’s on him, he really should’ve been there to help you). But he just thought you just missed it with you sleeping on the far side of the manor.

“I also saw you guys celebrating each night when you came home. You know, with large banquets, movies, and take out. Looks like you guys had a lot of fun.”

Another gut punch. To know you saw them having so much fun that you weren’t invited to hurt him and made him want to take you into his arms and take your pain and loneliness away.

“Also, it’s not rocket science; Bruce Wayne gets a new kid every time Batman gets a new sidekick, Batman is clearly using equipment that costs a pretty penny and not many people in Gotham could foot the bill, and Jason Todd rises from the dead not long after Red Hood showed up. Honestly, the fact that no one else in Gotham has figured it out is astounding.”

Once again, a moment passes as he processes your words, his mouth agape and eyes as wide as saucers. He looks around quickly and is relieved to know there’s no camera recording this interaction, so there’s one less thing to worry about.

“Well,” he finally stutters out. “You know what we were up to. So, you know we were always busy and didn’t have one of free time.”

It hurts that he’s saying that you were less important than going out at night and punching criminals, but he’s drowning and he’s reaching for anything to keep himself afloat.

“But all of you made time for each other. I saw you make plenty of time to be there for the others, but never me.”

He really wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. This conversation is one of the most painful things he’s ever done in his entire life. To know you stood in the background and saw him being there for everyone else…

“Well, maybe if you had done something else to get our attention,” he spits out, saying the first thing that comes to mind to keep this conversation going.

“And what should I have done,” you spit out, your eyes little more than slits and filled with hate.

“Maybe you should’ve become like us,” he mutters, his voice sounding pathetic even to him.

“What’d you just say,” you say, your tone a deadly silence.

He says nothing, realizing his mistake. You had a normal childhood with your mom, with no training whatsoever that would be useful in a vigilante situation. Plus, you’re innocent, you don’t belong on Gotham’s harsh streets; you belong at the manor with Alfred, eating cookies and drinking hot chocolate.

“I said ‘what’d you just say,’” you yell, making him jump a bit. “Say it again.”

Even though he’s taller than you (thank god), you look absolutely terrifying right now. You’re obviously pissed and repeating his stupid mistake is just going to make you angrier.

“I told you to say that again,” you yell as you open the door wide open and shove him back, making him step onto the grass as you step outside. “Now be a good little circus freak and do as I say!”

The insult is another sucker punch. It’s not the first time he’s been called that, he’s always countered it by showing off his acrobatic skills and silencing the sneers, but that obviously won’t work here.

“I said maybe you should’ve become a vigilante—“

He’s cut off by a slap to the face. When his vision clears, he sees your expression is a mix of anger and sadness, making him feel even worse about himself.

“How dare you,” you hiss, tears beginning to flow from your eyes. “So, I had to waste my life fighting Arkham’s inmates to be worthy of your love? I had to prove myself worthy of affection?”

“No,” he quickly retorts, ignoring the pain in his jaw from the slap. “I’m sorry, I—“

“Fuck you, Dick! Fuck you and fuck that dysfunctional mess you call a family! I hope you all get eaten by Killer Croc next time he breaks out!”

And with that, you storm back in your house and slam the door shut, leaving him to stare at the door, alone with his thoughts.

Shit. He came here to make you more receptive to them and all he did was make things worse. Now you’ll never come home.

And worse, he made you cry, something else he’ll never be able to forgive himself for.

“Well, I’ve done all I can,” he mutters to himself. “Guess I need to phone B and tell him what happened.”

He moves his leg to start walking back when pain surges from his ankle and when he looks down, he notices a vine covered in thick thorns wrapped around his ankle, a small line of blood on the vegetation. He must’ve got caught in it when you shoved him back and didn’t notice it.

He bends down and untangles his leg, taking care not to cut himself on the vine’s thorns.

Really, baby bird, this is why you need to come home. You don’t know how to take care of yourself, let alone a house.

When Dick told everyone what happened, Jason was genuinely surprised. When he first met you, he thought you were some little squirt that had no idea what the real world was like (of course, at that time, he was still pissed at Bruce and still riding high on Pit Madness, so he didn’t bother to spare you a passing glance).

When he learned that you lost your mom in a tragic accident and were forced to move to Gotham, where you were basically ignored and forgotten about for years…

Well, it’s not often he feels guilty about something, but this is definitely one of those times.

All those times when he yelled at Bruce for replacing him with Tim when he was doing the same thing…

Fuck, despite his best efforts, he became the old man, after all.

He was too busy being angry at the world and focusing on his own pain that he couldn’t see you were suffering.

And he knows your pain all too well, kid.

Losing your mother? Been there.

Being treated like shit? Oh yeah.

Have your life turned upside down because of Bruce? Oh, he’s president of the club.

If he had just pulled his head out of his own ass, he would’ve seen you were in pain like him. For fuck’s sake, Bruce didn’t even acknowledge your birthday or get you anything for Christmas while he was downstairs getting a limited edition copy of Pride and Prejudice and opening birthday cards with checks and gift cards.

The thought of you sitting upstairs in that fucking pitiful excuse of a room during your birthday (which is also the day of your mom’s death, ain’t that a bitch). Shit, he just wants to go back to Gotham, kick Bruce’s ass and then his own. Hell, he can remember flashing you his Pit Eyes after meeting you and you’re a damn civilian, for fuck’s sake!

Seriously, he knows he’s fucked in the head, but is he really that fucked up?

Maybe he should finally listen to Alfred and book a session with that therapist he recommended.

Well, he’ll do that when he brings you back home. After Dickhead not only failed to bring you back, but made things worse than before (they were all amazed when he told them you knew their secret, but of course Bruce stated drafting new rules about wearing their suits and handling their gear in the house to prevent someone outside the family from making the same discovery), Bruce finally green light the use of force and sent Jason.

He looks up at your house: a nice, simple thing in a small town where everyone probably knows your name.

While the others said it wasn’t for you, he actually thought what living there would be like. According to Alfred, you lived a great life there with your mother, complete with your own room and a nice tv perfect for eating cereal while watching Saturday morning cartoons.

He imagines doing that with you, him reading Jane Austen while you watch whatever silly little cartoon you like.

Yeah, shocking, but he wants to make up his shitty behavior towards you. Hell, he went ahead and bought everything your mom wrote and started reading and making notes. Now, he’ll never forsake Austen, but your mom is definitely a close second on his list of favorite authors.

She had a thing for the Age of Sails, apparently, since the books always took place on boats. She was also a romantic because she always ended her books with the two main characters falling in love, be it a noble woman and a pirate captain or the son of a major trade company and the commander of his naval escort.

Maybe your mom had some unpublished manuscript lying around and you’ll let him read it. He has plans to discuss her books with you, hopefully you know enough about her to answer them, but all he wants is to spend time with you.

Of course, first you have to come home. Whether you come along willingly or he has to drag you depends on his conversation goes with you.

“Sorry, kid,” he mutters to himself as he walks up to your door and knocks.

You want nothing to do with them. He gets it, trust him, he really does. It wasn’t that long ago he wanted to be as far from Gotham and Bruce just like you. Unfortunately, when you’re a part of this family, you’re in it for life; when it has its hooks in you, you can’t get them out.

Hopefully your transition won’t be too painful. He’ll try to keep the others (mainly Dick) from hitting you too much with their guilt-driven affections.

“What the hell are you doing here,” a voice calls out from behind him.

He turns around to see you with a brown paper bag in your hand and if he squints hard enough, he can see some restaurant’s name on the bag.

That’s right, Goodsprings is a small town where everything’s within walking distance, so it would make sense why you got take out while your car’s in the driveway.

“Look, kid, before we go any further, I just want to say that I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care,” you respond. “Go away.”

“Look, I know where you’re coming from. Really, I do. When I came back, I was pissed at Bruce and wanted nothing to do with him.”

“And yet, here you are, a part of that disgusting family and doing his bidding.”

That perpetually angry part of him wanted to say something that would only make things worse, but he manages to put a lid on that. If there’s anyone who deserves to lash out at him it’s you.

He’ll take whatever insult you have if it helps make you feel better.

“We all know we fucked up and we want you back. Just come home, Y/N. If you know who I am, then you know I’m more than happy to do things the hard way.”

“So you’ll use force to get your way. Wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. You can pretend to be the well-read intellectual all you want, but you’ll always be Crime Alley trash who knows nothing but violence.”

Ok, that hurt. And that lid is starting to get harder to keep on.

He knows he’ll always be a man who uses his fists more than his words or head (those kinds of people never last long in the Alley), but he’s really tried to be more than that. He had to toughen up in order to survive back in the Alley, always hiding his love for literature and showing an attitude to the world, but when Bruce adopted him and he was able to become more than that little brat (despite all the cons living with a bastard who dressed like a bat entails).

“Too bad your mom wasn’t the type of junkie who sells her kid for her next hit. Would’ve saved the both of us a ton of trouble.”

Alright, so you know a lot of their dirty laundry. Shit. He already knew this probably wouldn’t end well, but this is going off the rails faster than he thought.

“Kid, I know you’re pissed at us and you have that right. Trust me, I’ve been pissed at Bruce for years, but you need really to come back—“

“And stop trying to relate to me, you asshat. You say you know how I feel about them, but you don’t. You came back determined to kill Batman and show him how you’re better than him, but you were also crying like a little bitch and begging Daddy to love you.”

You laugh at him mockingly while he’s starting to shake in anger, taking deep breaths to temper his rage.

“Daddy, Daddy, kiss me, kiss me,” you mock. Then your face goes back to pissed as you walk closer to him and look him straight in the eye. “You’re pathetic. Just like that whore, junkie of a mom. And your drunk of a dad.”

That’s when he loses it, despite his best efforts, and takes a swing at you. Oh well, he’s already in hot water with you, adding something else isn’t going to do much damage. At least it’ll be easy to drag you back to Gotham while you’re knocked out.

You drop the bag and catch his fist, stopping it no problem.

“How,” he starts to say before you twist his fist and he lets out a yell in pain.

“Jason Todd lashing out when faced with reality,” you say as you twist even more, bringing him to his knees. “How predictable.”

With your left hand (the bag still in your hand), you grab him by the chin and force him to look at you and when he does, he’s genuinely scared at the joy he can see reflected in them.

You’re taking pleasure in this; seeing him on his knees and at your mercy.

“Before I forget, I owe you for the black eye you gave me when we first met. Unlike your mother, mine taught me to always make good on my debts.”

Before he can do or say anything, you punch him squarely in the right eye, letting go of him so he’s knocked back by the force of the punch. He lands on the hard pavement and lays there with his right eye throbbing from the punch, already swelling up.

“Stay away from me, Jason. Next time, I won’t be so merciful.”

And with that, you step over him, unlock your door, and slam it shut, the sound of it being locked audible from his side.

“Shit,” he hisses, sitting up and touching his eye, wincing when it throbs in pain.

How the hell did you do that? You’re way smaller than him and you obviously don’t hit the gym, so how did you manage to catch his fist and counter him? And how did you manage to punch him hard enough to really hurt? Seriously, he’s taken a few shots from Bane and that punch was definitely on that level.

“B’s gonna love hearing this,” he mutters to himself as he gets up.

He walks back to the rental car he parked at your curb only to discover all four tires were punctured.

“Shit,” he yells, crouching to get a good look at the damage.

Something small and sharp punctured each tire and from what he could tell, it looks like something pierced the tire and snaked around it, making more holes.

He looks back at your house, but realizes there’s no way you could’ve done it. He didn’t see anything on you that could’ve done this. And no one else passed by while you were ripping him a new one.

So how the hell did this happen.

“Fuck,��� he whines, realizing standing around isn’t going to do anything and pulls out his phone to call a tow truck.

Tim’s been curious about things he doesn’t understand all his life. It’s true, if he saw something that he couldn’t explain, he studied it, asked questions, and observed it until he finally understood it.

To say he’s curious about you is a gross understatement.

He’s ashamed to admit when he first met you, he thought he had you figured out. From what news he was able to see, you were the product of a one-night stand between Bruce Wayne and Maria Gould, a moderately successfully writer, and after she was killed by a drunk driver leaving a casino after a night of drinking and losing money, you were moved to Gotham to live with Bruce.

And when he met you, he saw nothing under that story. You grew up in a normal house with a loving mother (truth be told, he was a little jealous about that back then), not a traveling circus like Dick or in the heart of a slum like Jason, nor did you possess any notable talent like gymnastics or brute strength, and you certainly didn’t belong on the front lines, defending Gotham from crime.

You were average, nothing more, nothing less. End of story.

Well, he’s ashamed that he thought that way. You’re his younger brother, damn it, you shouldn’t have to possess anything to make him worthy of his attention. And he of all people knows what it’s like to be ignored by your family, so he should’ve talked to you and treated you like a brother, not do what his parents did to him and completely forget you exist.

But he’s here to make amends, apologize to you, and bring you back home.

Also, as much as he hates to admit it, but he’s completely obsessed with you now. He’s analyzed everything he could find on you and he’s incredibly curious how you went from getting mostly Bs and a few Cs to getting all As? Or how did you go about making your game when all you had was that sad Coding Games For Dummies to go on (he would’ve loved to teach you to code)?

And of course, there’s how you managed to push Bruce and block Jason’s punch and give him a black eye. Both of them are easily the strongest out of everyone in the family, so how someone like you managed to take them down is nothing short of astounding (and concerning).

In fact, if he fails like Dick and Jason, he wants to at least find a way of obtaining a blood sample. The last time you had blood drawn was on your eighteenth birthday, none of it showing you even have the Meta Gene, but until he performs the test and sees the results himself, he’s keeping all options open.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greets you as he sits in your booth at the Pearl’s Diner, a restaurant you routinely frequent.

You look up from your meal and your expression shifts in disgust.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you spit, slamming your utensils down on the table. “Are you people really stalking me? It’s been everyday with you people!”

It’s true, Dick visited you two days ago, Jason was yesterday, and today is his turn to bring you back to the fold. He’s really hoping he succeeds, because Steph and Cass are next, and Damian is last (he demanded to come and was pissed when Bruce sent him instead).

“Come on, Y/N, I just want to talk to you. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Yes,” you instantly respond. “Why are you even here in the first place, shouldn’t you be stalking Mr. Wayne from the shadows?”

He hides his wince from you, but your words definitely hurt him.

Yes, he stalked Bruce, but there was nothing nefarious about it! He was fascinated by Batman and Robin and just wanted to know more!

“Look, I know you’re angry at us and you have every right to. We should’ve done better and there’s no excuse we can give that will ever erase the damage done to you.”

“Glad to know you understand that,” you say that with a raised eyebrow. “Now go away.”

“You know I wouldn’t be here just to say that. I’m here to bring you back home.”

“Gotham isn’t my home,” you growl through grit teeth. “How many times do I have to say that? I’m never going back to that city of the damned and I’m sure as hell never stepping foot in that fucking manor.”

On one hand, he gets why you feel about Gotham, it’s a city that’s taken much from its people, it’s constantly dark and gloomy, and its atmosphere is constantly oppressive and intimidating. But on the other, he’s a born and raised Gothamite (no matter how much Jason says otherwise due to his upbringing) and he’s Red Robin, so he has a strong pride for his home. But, he’s willing to let it slide since he knows you had happy memories of Goodsprings and every memory you have of Gotham is negative (something he hopes to correct).

“I know why you feel that way, but no matter what you say or how you feel, Bruce’s DNA makes up half of yours. Like it or not, he’s your father and we’re your family. We realize we screwed up and we want you back.”

“You’re wrong, he’s not my father, he’s a sperm donor.” He winces at how you view Bruce. “Hell, my Momma probably took pity on him and gave him the best night he’ll ever have. If I could, I’d suck out all the Wayne DNA and give it back to him. I want nothing to do with him and I sure as hell don’t want anything to do with you.”

Alright, this isn’t going well (as he anticipated), so he needs to switch gears and get a blood sample. If Bruce is right and you have the Meta Gene, knowing your powers will go a long way. After they (he) studies every last molecule of your DNA and they find ways to counter your abilities, they’ll be able to bring you back home.

Sure, you’ll be angry (probably more than now), but in time, you’ll realize this was for the best; that you belonged with them and while you have the last name Gould, you’re a Wayne and your rightful place is the manor. Hell, he’s helping Bruce draft a story to tell the media why you moved back to the manor and plans for your gala, which will be the biggest event Gotham will ever see, complete with endless buffets, the finest music, and the city’s biggest movers and shakers.

But in order for any of that to happen, he needs a blood sample. He glances down at the ring on his finger, which houses a hidden needle that will pierce your skin without you even feeling it and your blood will be housed in a small vial housed within the ring. He has a blood analyzer in his car, so he won’t have to wait to get to the manor in order to run the tests, he can do it once he leaves and read the results on the jet ride home.

“Y/N,” he starts, reaching out to your hand, thankful you’re wearing a t-shirt. “Please, come home.”

Almost there.

“Alfred misses you.”

Just a little more…

Then, you grab his wrist, halting him and squeezing it, making him wince in pain.

“Why are you so eager to make me go back to Gotham,” you hiss, yanking his arm, causing him to jerk across the table. “Let me guess, now that I’m gone, everyone’s ignoring you? They’re treating you like your parents treated you?”

So Jason was right, you know all their secrets. Specifically, his issues with his parents and how he felt about their lack of affection towards him. Shit.

“Did it feel nice, Tim, ignoring me and pretending I didn’t exist? Jack and Janet made you feel like shit for years and now you had the opportunity to do the same to someone else.”

He tries to flip his wrist to try to slide the ring across any exposed skin so he can take a blood sample, but you have a vice-like grip on it and he can’t move it any; all he can do is look you in your hate-filled eyes.

“Do you ever think they knew something was wrong with you? That’s why they wanted nothing to do with you? Despite their best efforts, you came out so fucked up not even your own mother could love you. How pathetic.”

He tries to break free, but your hand doesn’t budge at all. Hell, he’s using his Red Robin strength and it’s not budging at all. Seriously, what are you?

“I’m telling you this right now, Tim, stay away from me. All of you. I didn’t lose twelve years in Gotham and spend the last four years creating my dream life just have you lot fuck it up.” You squeeze to the point it feels like you’ll snap his wrist off and he bites his tongue to resist yelling out in pain. “If you guys keep coming near me, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

And with that, you throw him back into his booth, his wrist throbbing from the pain, and get up, walk to the waitress behind the counter up front to pay for your meal (which is unfinished), and leave.

He looks down at his wrist to see it’s definitely bruised.

Well, things just got more interesting.

Damian shouldn’t be surprised the there’s failed. Especially Drake, that misfit proves his inferiority at every turn and makes his poor breeding apparent.

Honestly, Father really should’ve let him go instead of Greyson. You’re his blood brother (granted, you come from a different mother than him, but Father’s DNA is what matters) and out of everyone in their family, he’s the only one besides Father capable of reaching you. The original plan was for Brown and Cain to come and bring you home, but a major Arkham breakout changed that.

Well, technically, Father said Brown and Cain were to come to you after all the inmates were returned to Arkham, but he used the breakout as a cover and took the jet to fly to Nevada. Father will no doubt complain about his actions, but he’ll no doubt forget about his actions when he returns with you in tow.

Of course, he knows his transgressions against you. He remembers drawing his sword and drawing blood, he remembers the countless insults he spat at you and your mother, and he remembers sending his pets to hunt you for sport.

When he met you, he was honestly surprised when Pennyworth said you were Father’s firstborn, something not even Mother and Grandfather were aware of because they told him he was to be Bruce’s only blood son. After learning of your existence, he immediately became concerned about his role as heir to the Wayne legacy; after all, tradition states that everything of true value passes to the firstborn son and seeing you put his position as heir to the Bat at risk.

And then he lashed out, drawing blood and cursing you and your mother, who he now regrets calling a whore because he now knows she didn’t intentionally share his bed, it was just the result of two adults making an idiotic mistake.

His time in the League gave him unrivaled perception and he could tell at a glance that you possessed no training whatsoever, nor did you possess any skill useful to fulfilling Father’s mission of combating Gotham’s criminals. You were raised in an average house and lived an average, unremarkable life.

You were no threat to him and knew nothing of what the family was really doing at night.

He knew that, but he felt the need to assert his place in the family’s hierarchy and remind you that you were beneath all of them, even beneath Drake (of course he knows better, no one could be beneath Drake and you belong with him, underneath Father).

He spent the next few years going out of his way to make your life miserable, insulting you every chance he got, cruelly reminding you that your mother was dead, using his pets to chase you throughout the manor, and abusing Greyson’s favoritism for him to deflect any accountability when you tried to defend yourself.

Back then, he didn’t see the value in having a biological connection to anyone because he viewed it as a danger to his position as heir to the Bat. Besides, he had more than enough “siblings” due to Father’s need to adopt every orphan that crosses his path.

Now that he’s grown some surrounded by Father, Pennyworth, and the rest of his family (even Drake), he knows the value in having you by his side. To have someone he’s bound to by blood is to have a connection with another that can’t be beaten by any other and he knows that he was a fool to spurn that gift.

He intends to make up for his transgressions by being the best brother imaginable; Greyson has shown him how a brother is supposed to be and he knows he can improve upon those methods to be better than Greyson. While Father plans on being the one to greet you every morning, he intends on being by your side, involving you in everything he does (except at night when he’s Robin; even if you have the Meta Gene, you have no place surrounded by the filth of Gotham), including painting, where he has plans on painting a portrait of you and him and hang it in your room.

Of course, there’s still the matter of bringing you back home. While he knows that you most likely despise him the most, nothing will hinge the fact that you and him are brothers. There has to be some rational part of you that will be receptive to his words.

He approaches you from behind while you’re crouched at your mother’s grave, talking to it as if it was her. He looks over you to see her tombstone:

Maria Gould

May Her Sails Point Towards Heaven

The tombstone is between two clusters of red lilies that seem to have been planted there, most likely by you if he had to guess.

As he nears you, you slowly turn around and face him, your expression of mourning shifting to a look of disgust and hatred (an expression that unnerves him slightly).

“What fresh hell is this,” you spit out, standing to your full height (you must’ve inherited your height from your mother because he’s slightly taller than you). “It wasn’t enough that your father had to come and ruin my big night, now you have to come and desecrate my Momma’s grave?”

“Brother, I—“

Before he can say another word, you close the distance between the two of you and wrap your hand around his throat, silencing him.

“You have no right calling me that! After you made my life a living hell!”

He brings his hands up to your arm and tries to break your hold, but unsurprisingly, he can’t. When Drake told them about your grip on his wrist, he attributed it to his natural weakness, but there may be some truth to the theory of you being a meta.

“After what you did, I should snap your neck. Wouldn’t that be a bitch, to die by the hand of someone you deemed to be of ‘ill breeding?’”

He regrets ever calling your breeding into question (something only reserved for Drake); he wants to say he takes it back and he deeply regrets it, but right now, he’s struggling to breath.

Just then, you toss him aside, he coughs as he quickly fills his lungs with air.

“You’re lucky we’re at my Momma’s grave, or I’d kill you.”

You spit at his feet to show your disgust for him before storming off to your nearby car. He watches as you drive off before looking down at the ring on his finger, the same kind Drake hoped to get a blood sample from you; he takes it off and looks on the inside to see the vial filled with your life essence.

“Once again, Drake, I have demonstrated why I deserve the Wayne name and you don’t.”

He pockets the ring and makes his way to the rental car. He had hoped to convince you to return to the manor, but he was content to extracting a blood sample to answer some questions they have about you.

You might know their secrets, but they’ll soon level the playing field and when they do, they can bring you home.

And when they do, he’ll be the brother you deserve.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @lunaluz432 @orbitingtraveler @roseytheteacup @bellethesleepypotato @exactlynumberonekryptonite @fantasyhopperhea @ellaprime7 @ratchetprime211 @bunbunbread @solelifauna @diejager @v0idl1nq

[dancingdonatello]

I LOOOOVED UR CHURRING FIC W/ THE 2012 TURTLES!! It was sosoooo cute! If you can, do you think you could do a rise version?? 😭🙏

make sure to drink some water!!

rise tmnt x reader

“Please, Raphy?” You were lounging on his plastron and staring up at him with such wide eyes, how could he possibly refuse? He gave a sheepish glance to Mikey who was dosing on a beanbag chair not too far away.

He tried to keep it quiet, he really did, but he really couldn’t help it anyways when you were so close to him. It was super deep and when you pressed harder against him, it felt like a massage chair. A very uncomfortable one.

You happily smiled as he continued, snorting when you glanced up and spotted his skin growing darker from his embarrassment.

Leo would churr to embarrass you. He only ever did it when you two were kissing and you were always embarrassed by PDA - especially in front of his family. So when you tried to sneak in a kiss when his brothers were looking away, he’d make his churring loud and clear.

But in reality, his genuine turtle noises are always quiet and hard to hear. He can make them louder but you like the real ones. The ones that sputter out and struggle.

For some reason, you like those ones over his ‘fake’ ones. He truly does not understand you. But whatever. He’ll do whatever if it means he gets to cuddle you.

“No, I swear it works!” You whispered to Leo who simply shook his head in denial. You crept up to Donnie and stared up at him. He looked down at you and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

You had discovered that when you try to mimic the sound a turtle makes, purring or churring or whatever they called it, Donnie couldn’t help himself and would make the sound too. His sounded way better than yours for obvious reasons but who cares!

You made a weird noise in your throat. Donnie blinked and then loudly churred before he slapped a hand over his mouth and stopped himself, embarrassed.

You grinned wickedly at him. You were so going to use this to your advantage.

It takes forever to get Mikey to churr. He’s just not a churrer, purrer, chirper, whatever. He tries to force it to make you smile but it hurts his throat. It’s almost unnatural for him. Maybe he doesn’t have the vocal chords for it or something.

He’ll only churr in his sleep. So you’ll have to pull all-nighters just to feel small vibrations that may have actually just been a snore. Oh well. He still rubs his chin and cheeks against everything you own. That’s turtle-y enough for you.

[itneverendshere]

Perhaps Rafe x Shy!Bartender reader at the country club. Maybe she was driven there and was supposed to get picked up, but shit got in the way. And she is far from home. Rafe is there that day for golfing or something and it’s her first day. He is instantly smitten and waits until her shift is over to properly ask her out, and notices she has no car to get home and gets protective

i looooved this and in my head this is EXACTLY how rafe and pogue!reader from this request met. this is the same universe, im making it canon rn

it could be you and me - rafe cameron

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) word count: 3.5k

Rafe slid through the crowd, heading toward the golf course. He had plans to join Topper for a round or two.

Like usual, his presence drew glances—partially because of the rumors that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Being the epitome of privilege, born into the wealth that afforded him everything, made sure that all eyes were on him, everywhere he went on that stupid fucking town. But that day, he’d been off his game from the moment he woke up.

He felt out of place, restless and mostly, bored. Every day in this place felt the same to him. The pleasures he used to get from being a kook were slowly burning out. The days had started blending together, the endless cycle of parties, and drinks had begun to lose its allure. Doing the same thing, over and over again. 

Nothing was new. Nothing was exciting anymore.

He was bored out of his mind. Golf wasn’t exactly his passion, but it was a way to pass the time, to pretend like he shouldn’t be in the office finishing whatever paperwork his father had shoved down his throat the night before. 

He needed a drink if he wanted to get through the rest of the day without breaking something.

He approached the clubhouse and noticed a small crowd gathered at the bar. It wasn’t an unusual sight—it was one of the most popular spots in the club—but something, or rather someone, caught his attention.

Behind the counter, there was someone he’d never seen before.

You wore the standard uniform of the club's staff—white blouse, black slacks, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail—but there was something about you that made him stop in his tracks. You weren’t a kook, that much was clear. And you were new. Way too new by the looks of the growing line.

You were busy, pouring drinks, smiling politely at the members, but he could tell you were nervous from the way you overdid it. It was like you were trying to make yourself small for those people. It didn’t help that they treated you like you were invisible, snapping their fingers or raising their voices to get your attention.

Fucking assholes.

He didn’t know why he felt so irritated all of the sudden. He’d done the same thing times and times again, he was no better than any of them, on a good day. But he hated watching it happen to you. He couldn’t stop staring, he felt creepy as he listed all the little things he noticed about you. Your hands moved quickly, but delicately, as if you took great care in everything you did.

You turned to reach for a bottle on a high shelf and he finally caught a good glimpse of your face—a glimpse that nearly made him drop his golf club on the spot. There was something striking about you. It was in the way your eyes narrowed as you focused on pouring the right amount of alcohol on a drink, and the way your lips pursed ever so slightly as you kept concentrating.

You were beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. He’d seen pretty girls all his life, he made sure he surrounded himself with them. But you? You were something else. 

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a genuine curiosity, to know more about someone. He didn’t think about hooking up, about asking for your number. You didn’t belong here and maybe that’s what made you so good.

The shift seemed never-ending, even though it was your first day.

Most of the club members hadn’t even bothered to learn your name —either way, you were having a hard time keeping up. 

You hadn’t wanted to take the job, but you didn’t have much of a choice. The country club was the only place hiring that summer, and you needed the money. Your friend had driven you there earlier that morning, promising to pick you up after your shift. But earlier, when you had glanced at your phone during a ten-second break, you saw a text from her saying she’d been held up—something about the car breaking down.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, shoving your phone back into your pocket as you handed a gin and tonic to a bald asshole who didn’t even bother to thank you. You were stuck here, away from home, and the last thing you wanted to do was ask one of these people for help.

Your nerves had already skyrocketed. Between the constant drink orders, the lack of polite smiles, and trying your best not to spill anything or offend any of these spoiled kooks, you were losing your mind. Being the center of attention wasn’t your forte, and being behind the bar was giving you a migraine as the members kept barking their orders, complaining when their drinks weren’t perfect, and barely acknowledging your existence.

You could feel their judgmental stupid eyes on you, like you were some sort of animal—a pogue. 

The buzz in your stomach kept getting stronger with every minute.

You wished you could just disappear, but you needed the job and so, you had no option but to take it like a big girl and get used to it. By the end of the day, your hands trembled slightly as you reached for another bottle, your muscles aching from trying to keep up with the endless demands.

As you handed yet another whiskey on the rocks to an ungrateful rich asshole, you noticed someone approaching the bar from the corner of your eye. Unlike the others, he didn’t immediately shout his order or snap his fingers. He just stood there, watching you, a slight smirk on his face.

It was hard not to recognize him—Rafe Cameron. You’d heard stories about him, of course. Everyone in the Outer Banks had. He was practically royalty, the golden boy of one of the wealthiest families around.

You hated being stared at, it made you feel even more out of place than you already did. You could feel your cheeks turning red just from that alone.

“Can I get you something?” you asked, politely yet barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Rafe leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving your face, “What do you recommend?”

He sounded amused. Like he was genuinely enjoying himself. Like he didn’t know this was your first day on the job. You knew he did because everything about him screamed Country Club boy. You hadn’t exactly had time to memorize the menu. But you didn’t want to look like a stupid in front of a kook, let alone kook royalty. 

“Uh, well, the mojitos are pretty popular,” you offered, hoping that was true.

He raised a brow, his smirk widening. “Mojitos, huh? Alright, I’ll take one.”

You nodded and quickly got to work, trying to ignore the way your hands were shaking. As you muddled the mint leaves and squeezed the lime, you could feel his eyes on you.

Jesus, what was his problem with the staring? Was there something on your face? Were you doing this whole thing wrong? It was unnerving. When you finally handed him the drink, he took it with a nod, but instead of walking away, he stayed there, sipping it slowly in front of you, like some kind of test. 

“You’re new here,” he remarked, more as a statement than a question.

You swallowed nervously and nodded. “Yeah, first day.”

He took another sip, “Not a bad start,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

Was he trying to be funny? You gave him a small, tight-lipped smile, not entirely sure if he was mocking you or being genuine. Before he could say anything else, another customer called for your attention, and you turned away to help them. 

Rafe didn’t move. Even as you worked, he stayed rooted to his seat. Every time you glanced in his direction, he was still there, watching you, not looking the least bit shameful about it. He left eventually.

By six thirty, the club was mostly empty, save for a few stragglers lingering at the bar and some late-night golfers finishing their rounds. You wiped down the counter one last time, wondering how the hell you were going to get home. You’d almost forgotten about the earlier text from your friend, but now your anxiety was back. 

You didn’t have anyone else to call and walking home alone, at night was terrifying, small town or not. You pulled out your phone and stared at it, praying for another solution to pop into your head, but nothing came.

“Come on, think…” you muttered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. It was a mess after being up in a ponytail the entire day but it was starting to give you a headache, so you took it down, hoping it would help you think clearer. It didn't.

Taking a taxi would cost more than you could afford, especially on your shitty bartender’s salary. You were pacing back and forth behind the bar, wondering how your luck had already gone down the drain on your first day working. 

In your panic, you didn’t notice someone else standing outside the glass doors of the clubhouse, watching you with a keen eye. Rafe had finished his round of golf earlier and had been hanging around, talking to a few of his father’s friends. He almost laughed at how stressed you looked but took pity on you when you almost broke down into tears right there and then.

He couldn’t have that.

You didn’t even see him walk up to the door and push it open. The sound of it swinging shut behind him startled you, and you looked up, your eyes widening as he approached you.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t move closer, just stood there by the door, giving you space.

You stared at him, still trying to catch your breath, not exactly hiding how freaked out you were. “I— I’m fine,” you stammered out. You clutched your phone tightly, as if it could somehow find you a safe way home.

Rafe bit his lip, clearly not convinced, “Y’sure about that? Cause you look like you’re two seconds away from a meltdown.”

His words, though blunt, weren’t meant to be harsh. At least you didn’t think they were, but hearing them out loud made you realize just how close you were to losing it publicly, in your workplace. You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“It’s nothing, I just…uh, I don’t have a ride home,” you admitted reluctantly,. “My friend was supposed to pick me up, but her car broke down, and now I’m stuck here.” The last part came out in a rush, as if saying it faster would somehow make it less true.

This felt like the luckiest day in his life.

“That’s it?” he asked, sounding almost relieved. “I can take you home, no problem.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the offer. “What? No, I— I don’t want to impose, it’s late, and—”

You were so cute it almost made it impossible to scold you.

“You’re not imposing,” Rafe cut you off, “It’s not safe for you to be out here alone, especially at this hour. Just lemme give you a ride, okay?”

You hadn’t imagined him like this. Speaking to you, a pogue so…normally. There was something in his voice, in the way he spoke to you, that made you pause. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding. He was just offering help. He sounded nothing like the Rafe you’d heard about.

You hesitated, glancing back at your phone again as if you might find a better solution, but you knew deep down you weren’t finding shit. There was no one else you could call, no other option that made sense. And as much as you hated the idea of relying on someone you barely knew, on a kook of all people, you didn’t feel like sleeping on the streets.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, your voice quiet as you looked up at him. You hadn’t expected him to be so tall, “But just this once.”

Rafe’s lips twitched, “Just this once,” he echoed as he gestured toward the door. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He led you to his car, a sleek, black SUV that practically screamed money. He opened the passenger door for you, and you slid inside, feeling a bit out of place. You’d never been inside such a luxurious vehicle. The plush leather seats were…something. You sat quietly, too scared to break something as he got in on the driver’s side, starting the engine with a quiet hum.

The drive started off in silence. You kept your eyes focused on the road, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were in Rafe Cameron’s car, being driven home by him. It sounded almost delusional. 

After a few minutes, Rafe spoke up “So, where do you live?” he asked, glancing over at you.

He knew you were a pogue, that was a given. But he’d never seen you around before.

You quickly gave him your address, and he nodded, adjusting the GPS on his dashboard. As he did, you couldn’t help but admire how calm and collected he seemed. It was almost unsettling how comfortable he was in situations like this—small talk with strangers, a situation that always has you squirming.  

“Thanks, by the way, I really appreciate it.”

He quickly glanced over at you, “Don’t mention it. It’s no big deal.”

Except it was. You were even prettier up close, and your perfume scent was messing with his head, if it wasn’t for the GPS's stupid robotic voice he’d be lost by now.

It was a big deal to you too. It wasn’t every day that someone like Rafe went out of their way to help someone like you. And the fact that he’d done it without a second thought, without expecting anything in return was very, very confusing. 

“First day at the club, huh?” Was he trying to make small talk with you? Oh wow. His tone was so casual, like this was the most normal conversation in the world, like you two had known each other for years, and weirdly enough, you didn’t mind. “How’d it go?”

You hesitated, not sure how much you should say. Your instinct was to lie and avoid making things awkward. “Oh, it was great,” your voice raised an octave as it always did when you tried to lie your way out of conversations, “Everyone was really nice!”

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave the road as he let out a low chuckle. “Bullshit.”

Your smile faltered. “W-What?”

“Come on,” he said, still grinning like an idiot, “I watched you get run ragged by those assholes all day. You looked like you wanted to set the bar on fire.”

You opened your mouth to lie again, but before you could stop yourself, the self righteous girl in you decided to take charge. 

“Okay, fine, it was awful. Those people are the worst. They treat everyone like shit and act like they’re God’s gift to the world just because they’ve got money.” Your voice grew louder as you vented, all the frustration from the day spitting out, “I mean, who the fuck do they think they are? Just because they can afford to spend their summers at a country club doesn’t make them better than everyone else.”

Rafe’s laughter broke through your rant, and you stopped short, suddenly realizing who you were talking to. You turned to look at him, wide-eyed, your heart sinking. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered horrified, hand covering your mouth, “You’re a kook.”

He was laughing so hard that his shoulders shook, his hand gripping the steering wheel as he tried to catch his breath. “Holy shit,” he managed to wheeze out between laughs, “You really hate us, don’t you?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I didn’t mean you specifically,” you mumbled, your face burning, “I just...I don’t know what came over me.”

Rafe shook his head, still chuckling as he pulled up to a stoplight. “Nah, it’s fine. You’re not wrong about most of them. But, y’know, not all kooks are complete assholes.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, still mortified. “So you’re not an asshole?”

“Oh no, I am,” He snorted, “Just not to you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, lowering your hands to your lap, “Good.”

You couldn’t stop staring at him. He was different than you’d imagined—more down-to-earth, less of a caricature of the wealthy villain you’d built up in your mind.

“So,” he said after a while, his tone still light, like he was holding back, trying not to scare you off, “What made you take the job at the club? Guessing it wasn’t for the stellar company.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I just needed a job for the summer, and they were the only place hiring.”

“Lucky us,” he said, and when you looked at him, he was giving you that same playful smirk. “You might be the only decent person in that place.”

Your cheeks warmed again, and you had to look away, fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. “I don’t know about that,” you murmured.

He glanced over, noticing the shy way you avoided his gaze, and his smirk softened. “I do.”

You must’ve hit your head earlier.

Was he flirting with you of all people? He was going to send you into cardiac arrest. You didn’t know how to answer, so you stayed quiet, the silence only broken by the quiet hum of the car’s engine and the GPS’s occasional directions.

When Rafe finally pulled up in front of your house, you hesitated before unbuckling your seatbelt. It felt like you had something more to say, but you weren’t sure what. He seemed to sense it too because he didn’t rush you, just turned off the engine and leaned back in his seat, waiting.

You finally turned to him, “Thanks again, Rafe. For everything. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, his eyes locking onto yours in a way that made it hard to look away. 

“Anytime. Seriously. If you ever need anything, just let me know.”

The offer seemed so sincere, so out of character for the guy you’d heard about, that it left you momentarily speechless. He kept proving you wrong. 

“I will.”

With a final nod, you pushed open the door and stepped out, the cool night air hitting you as you closed the door behind you. You took a few steps toward your house before turning back, catching one last glimpse of him sitting there. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened involuntarily when you looked back. He'd offered to drive girls home before—plenty of times, in fact—but this was different. When you waved, he felt like a schoolboy who only got to see his crush at school and spent the entire weekends daydreaming about her. 

Once you walked inside, he leaned back in his seat, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you sitting in his passenger seat, looking so out of place yet so perfect at the same time. Like you belonged right there, next to him. There was something so refreshingly genuine about you. You weren’t like the girls he knew—the ones who flaunted their wealth, who expected the world to bend over backward for them. You were different, unpretentious, and honest in a way that made him feel like he could drop the act for once.

Like he didn’t have to be Rafe Cameron, the reckless, arrogant kook.

No, with you, he could just be Rafe. And that was something he hadn’t realized he was missing until tonight.

He was done for. He knew he wasn’t going to stop until you were his.

The thought of anyone else having you, of you smiling at someone else the way you had at him tonight—it made him want to break someone’s teeth. He had a reputation, and he knew that if you heard even half of the stories about him, you’d probably want nothing to do with him after tonight. But he didn’t care. Because there was something about you that made him want to be better, to be the kind of guy you deserved.

He could already see it—the two of you, together. He’d give you the world, everything you deserved, and more. He’d make sure you never had to worry about a thing. You were perfect, too perfect for this world, and now that he’d found you, he wasn’t going to let you slip away. 

He’d make sure of it—you were going to be his girl. And nothing was going to stop him.

[pepperyduck]

deadbeat - toji fushiguro

synopsis: too stupid and selfish for anything good to happen.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: angst, toji is an ass, marriage problems, arguements, pregnancy, like two paragraphs of smut, rushed relationships, ooc toji (probably), really bad writing, a bunch of timeskips cuz i'm lazy. (18+ mdni!)

notes: yeah this one is ass but i just wanted to make something sad/angry. much love! send me requests i'm begging </3.

edit: you can find pt. 2 here.

masterlist

 toji sits on a random bench downtown. he’s thinking. he thinks he’s too self-absorbed. and he’s rude, too rude for anyone to befriend him in a genuine way. he wishes he could change. toji’s left everyone in his life behind at some point. he gets overwhelmed sometimes, seeing all the people around him that more than likely have someone or something that keeps them going.

what does toji have? nothing. and it’s his own fault, too. he only has a stubbornness to him that won’t let him die. his mind is the only thing that keeps him going.

and then he sees you.

you plop down on the same bench, not next to him, but only a few feet away, rummaging through your bag to find something. you’re determined, not focused on the big scary man next to you. but to toji; you’re the first person in years that has sat next to him. he stares at you, as you still search for that something in your bag – your keys, toji sees you grab your keys. you look back up, finding toji staring at you, and he doesn’t break the contact with his eyes, he only continues to stare.

“are…you okay…?” you ask the man, giving him an awkward smile, “i’m sorry if i bothered you.”

once you speak, toji shakes his head, “no, no…you’re fine. i was just thinking,” toji says. you notice his gruff tone, yeah, it fits the way he looks perfectly. he’s muscular, and has dark, dark hair that matches the midnight sky with no stars. there’s also a bored look on his face, his eyes stay half-lidded, and his mouth sits in a natural frown. but he’s handsome, you think. very handsome. but it’s almost in an unconventional way – the scarring on his lips and overall structure of his face is like none other you’ve seen before.

call it love at first sight, call it whatever you want. but you felt a certain need for this man.

“thinking about what?” you ask, in an attempt to talk to him.

toji shakes his head again, “nothing important.”

you think that he probably has no interest in you, maybe you really did catch him off guard when you sat down next to him. but toji is thinking about how he’s never seen anyone like you, too, and he’s never had anyone willingly sit next to him and try to conversate. he thinks he’s too intimidating, and he is, to pretty much anyone else.

but you – you don’t get that from him. all you see is a possibly lonely, pretty man.

“what’s your name?” you question him again, cocking your head to the side.

“mm…toji,” he says, hesitantly.

“toji…” you repeat after him, mentally repeating his name over and over as to not forget it. toji can’t peel his eyes away from your lips as you mouth his name a couple times, the way they perfectly made an “o” shape for the letter in his name.

“uhm,” toji croaks, an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness in his chest, “what’s your name?”

when you tell him your name, toji sighs in relief. he’d always found it hard to have normal conversations, outside of those he had for work purposes, but this…this wasn’t so hard. he hadn’t wished to meet someone again in forever. but he wished now that he would see you again, even if it was passing on the street. toji hangs his head down, not knowing what to say anymore. these are difficult, odd, never-visited-before feelings for him.

maybe it was love at first sight for him, too. he doesn’t really know. not yet, at least.

“toji,” you repeat his name once more, and he lifts his head to look at you, “can i have your number, or something?” if you wanted to catch toji off guard, now, this is the way to do it.

toji’s mouth drops open slightly, “uh- sure,” he mutters, and he’s unable to stare at you anymore. you hand him an old receipt and a pen you kept in your bag, and he tries his hardest to remember the number of his apartment phone.

eventually, he writes it down, and you notice his penmanship definitely needs some work. nonetheless, you smile at toji, this time more genuine rather than awkward, and tell him you have to get going. toji only stares once more as you walk away, disappearing into the crowded sidewalk, his eyes linger on you for as long as possible.

toji was lonely. so, so pathetically lonely until you showed up.

“would you want to, like…see each other again?” you ask a drunk toji over the phone. his phone cord is stretched all the way over the counter in his apartment to the couch, where he lazily laid, buzzed, and talking to you.

silence is heard on the other side of the phone for a couple seconds.

“…sure,” toji replies, and you don’t know, but he feels like he could throw up.

however, with you making all the plans, a “date” is finally planned in a couple of weeks. neither one of you is too sure what to call it. but by normal, societal standards, yes, you and him were going to go on a date.

you have phone conversations every so often as the remaining days pass. usually, it’s you calling him. that’s only because he thinks your life is too busy for someone like him. he doesn’t even know why someone like you is even talking to him.

toji will keep his insecurities under wraps for now, though. only for now.

he’s still very curious about you, though, and he wonders what makes him so curious. he’s still wondering when he walks into a bar – the one you proclaimed as your favorite – to see you on your so-called date. toji’s heart flutters for the first time in his life when he sees you. you’re already sat in one of the barstools, sipping on a mixed drink – and you are jaw-droppingly beautiful. toji doesn’t talk to you when he slides into the stool next to you.

you crane your neck to look at whoever just sat in the reserved seat, and it’s toji, not looking any differently from how you saw him a couple weeks ago. you don’t mind. he’s still attractive. you think he might just be the type that’s “unapologetically themselves.” and he is, but not in a way that makes people attracted to him.

“toji!” his name falls off your tongue so perfectly yet again, and you wrap your arms around his neck. he doesn’t hug you back, he only freezes slightly at your touch. again, you don’t mind. it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t do things like this often. you feel lucky he decided to show up in the first place.

as time ticks away, you begin to find out more about toji. he does have a sense of humor, it only takes some chipping away at his hard exterior and a few drinks for him to laugh along with you. he lives alone, and he’s honest about his job – he kills people for a living. that fact doesn’t intimidate you, it only explains why he is the way he is. he tells you a few minute details about his family life, too, and how he grew up.

nothing that he tells you scares you. it only makes sense to you. the pieces of his personality add up with the information he gives you. and silently, you thank him for explaining more about himself.

he just doesn’t want to be lonely anymore.

toji takes you back to his place that night. even the frugal décor – or lack thereof – makes sense to you. it’s a little humorous how everything fits so perfectly with his personality.

“fuck- toji!” you scream, arms shaking as you hold yourself up as toji pounds you from behind. you know you only met him a few weeks ago, and it’s bad to fuck on the first date, but you feel zero remorse with the current situation. his big, rough hands hold your hips in place, lewd, wet noises fill the air when you aren’t moaning for the man behind you. toji doesn’t pay mind to how loud you’re being – he only likes the fact you’re losing yourself because of him.

toji props his leg up on the bed, giving a new angle, and slams his hips forward to meet yours again. you feel him in the deepest parts of you, and god, he’s so warm, he makes your whole body heat up in a way you’ve never felt before. drool rolls out of your mouth, creating a small damp circle below your head. your eyes flash behind you. you see toji in all his glory – he’s actually got some emotion on his face now.

you fall asleep in toji’s bed that night.

toji prays you won’t just be a one-night stand – no, he won’t let you be a one-night stand. in toji’s mind, you’re his now.

in your mind, you are too.

a few weeks after your date, you call up toji, he notices the nervous tone in your voice, but doesn’t mention anything about it.

“toji…” you say, his name sounding so perfect once again, “toji…i’m pregnant.”

shit.

“what?” he sounds furious, and it makes you cower down, even in the comfort of your own home. you don’t repeat yourself. you know he heard you. “are you sure?” he frantically questions, slapping a hand to his forehead as he begins to sweat.

“i’ve been sick ever since our date…and all the tests i took are positive.” you whimper, not handling the news any better than toji. you want to cry and beg toji not to leave. “i’m sorry, toji,” you whisper.

“it’s…okay.” toji replies. he knows the fault lies with both of you, and the heat of the moment, and the fact that he was just so attracted to you he didn’t have time to control himself.

“i don’t know what to do,” you tell toji, tears rolling down your cheeks as you clench the phone in your hand even tighter.

“me either,” toji admits, “but…i’ll help you.” those are the only words he can think of to calm you down.

it’s going to be a sticky situation, no matter what. but you took a chance on toji, you overlooked everything wrong with him. it was now his time to return the favor.

he got his wish, though. you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere anytime soon.

toji hauls the last of your boxes into his apartment, throwing them down on the floor harder than needed.

“you have a lot of shit, woman,” he groans, wiping his forehead. you only giggle in return from your spot on the couch. he didn’t let you pick up any of the heavy boxes.

you spend the rest of the day unpacking all your clothes, completely overtaking toji’s closet with items of your own. all your things add a splash of color into toji’s space, and god knows he needs it. toji’s surprised someone can have so much stuff.

“what the hell is this?” toji asks, pulling something out of a box.

“it’s a curling iron, toji,” you reply as you roll your eyes.

by the time night comes, you’re successfully moved in with the father of your baby. empty boxes are broken down and laid by the door. you’re curled up next to toji on the couch, his arm is wrapped around you. it’s been around 3 months since your first encounter with toji downtown.

ever since you told him you were pregnant, he’s acted differently. he dotes on you, he makes sure you’re comfortable, he buys you meals because he’s clueless as to what else to buy you. toji didn’t think he had it in him. you still aren’t officially together — yet — but toji shows he has a care for you in small ways.

you’re still getting used to one another, though. you and toji differ from each other tremendously, but you have to find a way to make these things work. you show toji love, and he prefers to keep his feelings inside, showing love through him allowing you to touch him and be around him. he hasn’t allowed anyone to be this way with him before. nothing is ever long term with him.

he no longer has a choice now.

“toji,” you speak, “are we dating? are we together?” you ask.

the inquiry causes toji to furrow his eyebrows.

“why?” toji answers you with another question. you shrug.

“I just want to know,” you reply. toji shrugs.

“do you want to get married?” toji petitions.

you push yourself off toji, sitting up. you look at him, eyebrows knitted together, “what?” you almost sound the same as toji did when you told him you were pregnant. and again, the situation repeats itself. toji’s statement doesn’t recur. he knows you heard him.

toji looks at you, a sly grin on his scarred lips.

“okay,” you finally agree, “i’ll marry you, toji.”

love grows. loving someone can change you, for the better or for worse. love matures someone, it will make someone into something they once weren’t, or something they aren’t meant to be. love is beautiful. intimate, soft feelings swell inside of you in a way you cannot express.

you love toji. he loves you, too, you think.

“toji, let go of me,” you playfully giggle as you try to pry the man’s hands off your waist, “i have to cook!”

toji has his arms wrapped around you from behind, not too hard, of course, to make sure there is no damage done to the human you’re growing inside of you. he has no intentions of letting you go, despite your pleas. toji rests his head on your shoulder, kissing the crook of your neck and breathing your scent in.

“i love you.” toji whispers, a barely audible peep.

you’re taken aback for a moment. you understood long ago those words would probably never come out of his mouth; due to the rushed situation you lived in with him. but he was there with you, saying those three words that mean more than anything in this world.

“i love you too, toji,” you reply, now staying still as opposed to your earlier motions of trying to get away.

the both of you just stand there, so close, enveloped in each other’s presence. you haven’t shared a moment like this with him yet.

you crane your neck to plant a kiss on toji’s cheek, no longer fighting to get out of his grasp. you only turn yourself around and wrap your arms around his neck, encapsulating your husband in a deep hug. a hug that means more than anything that can be put into words.

that was the only time he said those words to you.

you’ve been married to toji for five and a half months. he’s a changed man, despite him still carrying the same cold demeanor as the same day you met. he’s proven to be a fine partner for you. you understand him more now, with the way he continues to keep you at arm’s length while also letting you in to his mind, expressing deep emotions whenever he was under the influence. he makes a promise to you that he won’t do anything to harm you or the baby, including with his job. he no longer wants to be put in danger, because it would put you and his baby in danger.

lonely he was no more. he had you, it was all he needed. toji felt that way for months. he would stay content and happy — although he never showed it — with you.

toji often spent his time thinking about you. he’s never had anyone like you in his life.

sometimes, love cannot change you entirely. the newness of it all wears out over time, that’s inevitable. but, it’s the choices you make along the way that show change.

all the while being a changed man, toji is still self-absorbed. he cannot run away from that fact.

 you’re 8 months pregnant. the past few nights, you’ve been alone at toji’s apartment, too pregnant and tired to do anything about it.

just as you’re about to call him up, toji opens the door and stumbles through, drunk as ever. you frown.

“where the hell have you been, toji?” you raise your voice, slowly getting up from the couch.

“why the hell does it matter?” toji retorts, anger in his voice. he wasn’t expecting you to be on his ass as soon as he walked through the door.

“you’ve been gone for three days!” you yell at him, “three whole days. you said you wouldn’t take on any more dangerous jobs!”

toji makes a tch sound with his teeth, “i wasn’t on a job.” he admits.

you look at toji, confused, “where were you?”

toji runs his fingers through his already disheveled hair, “gambling.”

he says it so nonchalantly, like he didn’t just spend half a week away from his pregnant wife gambling. toji had only mentioned gambling as a bad past habit. you didn’t think he did it anymore, but as soon as he admits it, you wonder if he spent all that time gambling instead of working. it would only make sense.

“what…?” you say, voice dropping to nothing more than a whisper. toji only shakes his head and walks off into the bedroom. you stare at him until he disappears.

for weeks after, you and toji continue to argue. your conversations turn into screaming battles until one of you gives up. most nights, toji sleeps on the couch. you slowly begin to realize that everything might have been a mistake.

there’s a reason he’s never had someone like you.

your arguments falter for a while at the arrival of your baby boy. he’s beautiful, a literal bundle of joy. toji takes the role of a father very seriously at first. he makes sure he’s taken care of while you spend a few days bedridden because of the birth. you love to watch toji through your bedroom door, while he holds the baby swaddled up as he cooks for you.

a glimmer of hope remains in your heart for your marriage.

toji joins you in bed that night, the baby safely tucked away in a small bassinet on your side of the bed. you’re wrapped in toji’s arms again. the world is right. you fall asleep to the sounds of your husband’s snores. it’s a feeling you haven’t had in a long time.

selfishness is a cruel disease.

a couple months after having your baby, you’re not so lonely, spending most of your time taking care of him. you become too busy and burnt out from being a parent that you don’t notice toji’s late nights again. he always joins you in bed, at some point, but at the end of the day you’re sleeping too soundly to notice the time.

slowly, the rekindled love begins to fade for toji. he’s never there, except for when the sun is down. once you’re able to stay awake past 9p.m., the nasty monster of arguments comes back at full force.

“shut the hell up, woman! you’re pissing me off!” toji yells. the baby is wailing in your bedroom, but you are too preoccupied with your husband to do anything.

“are you kidding me? you reek of cheap perfume,” you retort, voice matching the loudness of toji’s, “who the fuck were you with?”

“none of your goddamned business!” toji shouts, taking a step closer to tower over you. he does nothing to intimidate you. you were never scared of him, so why would you be now?

“it is my business, i’m your wife!” you reply to his remarks.

toji scoffs. he makes a decision quickly, not thinking about any repercussions. he points a finger towards the door.

“get the hell out.”

your face falls from anger into an expression that can only be described as heartbreak. your husband of almost – almost ­­– a year is kicking you out. toji’s face remains stern and cold, not a pang of regret for doing this to you.

thousands of questions run through your mind, painful silence falls over the room, and you can hear your baby screaming once more. no time is given to ask toji anything. and for once, you’re scared. not exactly scared of toji, but of the fact you don’t know how things are going to end up without him.

your shoulders relax. you look toji in the eyes, unable to hide your heartbreak, but overall, you decide to keep an unbothered façade.

indifference doesn’t matter to toji. neither does sadness, or anger.

it only takes you a few minutes to pack a bag with enough things for you and the baby. you do your best to calm him down before leaving. you walk over to the door, looking toji in the eyes once more, and for the first time, toji can see the rage in them. the rage that he caused.

“i hate you.”

you slam the door on your way out, a bag on one shoulder and the baby on your other side. you think about what toji was doing, but alas, you don’t really care. it only took a few minutes and a couple hundred hurtful words for toji to be dead to you.

toji watches from his window as you walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the crowd with his son. he thinks about where you’re going, who you’ll stay with, and how his life will end up now that you’re more than likely gone for good.

he’s a lonely man again. he’s leaving behind someone else, yet again.

but, he doesn’t really care.

[toonice113]

Oh My My My ⋆ ★ J.Hughes

pairings: Jack Hughes x fem!reader (nicknamed Mary)

Genre: fluff

Trope: childhood best friends to lovers

summary: You've been in love with your best friend Jack since you were seven and he was nine, growing up your moms were convinced you would end up together and your dads would joke about it non stop. As you grow up you navigate through life together and figure out that maybe your moms were right all along.

warnings?: they are both in love with each other but can't admit it. I don't like using Y/N but I had to use it once or twice, a longish read?, timeline might be a bit wonky idk?, angst for like two seconds, there’s not a full on description of reader, but it’s briefly mentioned she has freckles, reader is called Mary the whole time but it’s a nickname, mention of bugs, I skimmed through it but didn’t really edit it, specially the ending so there might be some errors sorry.

Word count: 3.2k 

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ This is my first time writing in tumblr and about Jack in general hi i apologize in advance if this sucks but i was listening to debut and this idea popped up in my mind. Also English is my second language so there's that. Enjoy!

At seven years old you realized you were in love with your best friend Jack, you have been neighbors for forever and although you were in Luke's class in school, you had always been closer to Jack. Your afternoons were spent following around the Hughes brothers while they played hockey, often finding yourself playing referee when the two older boys wouldn't let Luke touch the ball they used as a puck. Your favorite time of the year though, was summer. Your summers at the lake house were magical, in those years it was you and your parents joining the Hughes two weeks after summer started and after you'd visited your grandparents.

That specific summer your parents had announced they were having another baby and you remember all the fuss everyone made about it and how even though you wanted to be excited about it you couldn't help but feel a little scared of your parents not loving you as much anymore, no one noticed the change in your mood but Jack, he knew something was wrong when he noticed your smile wasn't as big as always, how your eyes weren't almost closed as they usually were when you smiled genuinely. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat next to you in the porch swing after lunch. 

“Nothing” your voice came out small and it made Jack frown, he knew you were not okay and he wasn’t about to let his best friend keep feeling down if he could help it.

“Mary…”

“What if they don’t love me anymore?” your bottom lip trembled, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

 “Who?” the boy was confused, who could she be talking about? How could anyone not love his dear Mary? She was the perfect girl, kind and pretty and nice and smart and he could go on and on about the good qualities he found in his best friend for days.

“Mom and dad, what if when the baby comes they realize they don’t want me anymore?” Jack immediately wrapped you in his small arms

“Mary it’s impossible not to love you” he said “Plus, when Luke was born mom and dad didn’t stop loving me so I’m sure your mom and dad won’t stop loving you” That afternoon you and Jack spent hours sitting in the swing holding each other not really talking much but feeling comfort in each other.

“I dare you to throw this at Jack” Luke opened his hand to show you a small green caterpillar trying to crawl out of his palm.

“He’s going to freak and hurt it” you furrowed your brows, one thing Jack did not play with was bugs. Spiders, worms, roaches, it didn’t matter, they all freaked him out the same, which sucked because Luke was in that stage where he was fascinated by the creepy crawlers as Jack had baptized them and he often dragged you with him to explore the backyard and find new ones. 

“It’ll be okay” you stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and putting your hand out, out of all three boys Luke was always the best at convincing you to do things you didn't want to do, and he found it especially funny when he got the opportunity to mess with his brother without repercussions because Jack could never be mad at you.

Approaching Jack who was on the end of the small pier watching Quinn try to fish you tapped his shoulder, turning around he smiled at you “Oh hi Ma- AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH” he screeched as you flung the caterpillar at him, the poor bug falling on the wooden deck and beginning to crawl away while in his state of panic Jack took one too many steps backwards and fell in the water behind him. Quinn bursted out laughing dropping his fishing pole on the deck and clutching his stomach, behind you Luke laughed as well and you, well you couldn’t help but stare with worry in your face until the boy came up for air flinging his arms and exclaiming angrily, you knew he was angry because he wasn’t using your nickname, “Y/N I’M GOING TO BEAT YOU UP” he, of course, never followed up with his threat though, never seriously thinking about actually hurting you, he did however tell on you to your parents who after lecturing you on how that was dangerous and both Jack and the caterpillar could’ve ended up hurt grounded you for the weekend and you missed out on the trip to the outdoor movie theater, feeling bad Jack brought you back all your favorite snacks as an apology for getting you grounded.

During the first two weeks of summer when you were ten you had spent lots of time with your older cousin, she was fourteen and had told you all about her previous school year, including the story of her first kiss leaving you curious about it. When you arrived at the lake house you couldn’t shake the story out of your head, your cousin had said the boy she had kissed was one she really liked and that it had created butterflies in her stomach. On your third night there, You and Jack were outside after dinner, sitting in the tree house his dad had built for the kids to hang out in, he was wrapping a stick while you flipped through the pages of a magazine “Hey Jack” he looked up from his stick to you “Truth or dare?” you were hoping he chose dare so you could implement the plan you had been thinking about since the day you’d arrived. You wanted to see if the butterflies your cousin had talked about were true.

“Dare” bingo! 

“I dare you to kiss me” his eyes widened and you stared as he thought about it for a minute debating whether having his first kiss with his best friend was a good idea or not, then your eyes widened as he put his stick down and began walking the short distance to you, and as he was about to kiss you you panicked and ran away leaving poor Jack standing there staring at your figure disappear inside the house feeling embarrassment and defeat, that night Jack realized he might have liked you a little more than as just a friend.

As you grew up things changed, new friends came around, boyfriends and girlfriends, busy schedules creating a distance but never separating you two completely, even with your part time job at the froyo shop and Jack’s hockey you still found time for movie nights, early breakfasts before school, rushed meet ups during breaks and of course, summers at the lake house. 2019 was a specially weird year for you all, Jack had been busy with the US National development team and your parents had decided to buy a new house all the way across town, forcing you and your little sister to move schools. The move had meant that you could no longer just walk to the Hughes house and therefore you hadn’t seen the two younger brothers in a couple weeks, Quinn having already moved to Canada. But as summer approached you got through the two weeks of visiting your grandparents before getting ready for the big day, Jack’s draft was coming up and while your parents and sister were staying behind and spending the summer with your grandparents, you were meeting up with the Hughes in Vancouver. 

Quinn’s apartment was buzzing with emotions, Ellen lecturing the boys about being in their best behavior during the ceremony with Jim by her side nodding but not saying anything, the grandparents looked amused at it while the boys looked bored. Jack lit up when you arrived, jumping up and excusing you both with the excuse that he needed your opinion on his suit, pulling you into Quinn’s guest room as you managed to wave hello to everyone before he slammed the door behind you. “Thank god you’re here” He whispered into your hair as he held you close.

“Nervous?” You ask him basking on the warmth he radiated and the hug you had been waiting for for over a month now.

“No, just tired. Mom’s been going crazy over the whole thing” He pulled away a little, still keeping his hands on your waist but far enough so he could talk to you face to face, that’s when he realized you had changed in the month and weeks he hadn’t seen you, your hair was a bit longer, you were tanner and there were new freckles adorning your face probably from spending your days in the sun while at your grandparents and you had lost some more weight in your face so your cheekbones sat taller in your face, your lips were plumper too and for a second was ready to risk it all just for a kiss, but he quickly came back to earth and pulled you back for another hug pulling you towards the bed where you two laid cuddled up to each other as you told him all about your time apart. 

As he updated you on what life had been for him recently you stared at him and if he wasn't so into the story he was telling you were sure he would’ve noticed the loving glance you were giving him. He hadn’t changed one bit since the last time you’d seen him and you couldn’t help but get lost in his eyes that twinkled under the soft glow of sunshine coming from the curtain that wasn’t closed all the way. The door opening interrupted your thoughts, Luke and Quinn hurrying in and closing the door behind them, Luke threw himself on the bed while Quinn sat down by their feet “I need tomorrow to be over already” Luke sighed dramatically grabbing your hand and putting it in his head so you could run your fingers through his curls.

“Do you think she’ll be this stressed for your draft or will she have it down by then?” Quinn chuckled at his younger brother’s theatrics.

“God I hope she has it down or I might not show up until I absolutely have to” Luke said, you laughed at him as Jack tried to kick him off of you both but it only resulted in Luke slotting between you two.

“Let her be excited, two of her babies will be playing in the NHL next season” You tell the boys “Also I really don’t think she’ll be any different for your draft moosey, if anything she might be worse than right now, you are her youngest after all” Luke groaned pushing you away

The next day went by in a blur and suddenly you were at the Rogers Arena sitting between Jack and Luke after switching places a few times, you were originally supposed to sit besides their grandma but then she asked you to switch places because of the air blaring on her or something like that so you’d moved to sit on her original seat next to Quinn but then Luke started complaining about Quinn manspreading and not having any space which resulted in you and Quinn switching places and finally five minutes before the ceremony started you noticed Jack become a little restless for the first time all day after showing confident to everyone and with a singular look, Luke and you knew you had to switch places. 

That is how you found yourself sitting next to Jack, his hand holding onto yours strongly, the only sign he had given anyone that day of having any nerves. When the Devils called his name as first pick of the draft you all got up celebrating and he hugged you first “I’m so proud of you” you whispered in his ear before moving to the side so he could hug his brothers and then the rest of his family. It goes without saying that your phone was filled with so many pictures and videos of him on the stage the next morning that it kept telling you you were out of space. 

When you finally arrived at the lake house for summer after your stay in Vancouver your parents had a whole celebratory party planned out, a bunch of Jack’s friends joining you for it, and after dinner the parents decided to leave and so the house was filled with loud music and rowdy teenagers, you not being a big fan of small crowded areas retrieved to the upstairs balcony after making your rounds, staring down at all the people dancing and thinking about how this past year you had barely seen Jack and after this summer you would see him even less, the realization hitting you like a train, he was moving to New Jersey in the fall and you were staying behind for at least two more years, there was no way your friendship was ever going to be the way it had been ever again and you didn’t know if you were ready for it. 

“Now what are you doing here all alone?” The sound of the sliding door and a voice stopped you from thinking about it too much.

Turning slightly you could see Quinn walk towards you “Just not in the mood for a party I’m quite tired” but Quinn had known you your whole life, and even though you had never appeared as closed to him as you were with the two younger brothers he had always taken the role as a big brother seriously, that included being your big brother too so he knew something was wrong, but he also knew when to push and when to wait, so he just sat next to you and sipped on his beer bottle waiting for you to say something or decide you were okay to return to the party, he would stay with you all night if he had to “I’m so happy for him, his dreams are coming true you know? But I can’t help but feel sad too” you finally spoke after a few minutes of silence, still looking at the party below “I mean this is the beginning of something great so why does it feel like it's also the end of us?” 

Quinn watched as your eyes welled with tears, quickly setting his beer down and moving closer to hold you “Why do you think this is the end?” he wouldn’t admit it because he didn’t like to meddle, but he agreed with their dad’s idea that Jack and you would end up married one day, eh wasn’t blind, he’d seen the way you had his brother wrapped around your finger since you were six and eight, and even though you had never told him anything about your feelings and you were usually really good at hiding them, he’d seen the way you looked at Jack when you thought nobody was looking.

“We’ve already fallen apart this year and I only moved twenty minutes away I can’t imagine what it will be like once he is in New Jersey” You spoke through tears and sniffles, your thoughts too loud for you to notice the sliding door opening again, Quinn noticed though, turning softly as to not disrupt you in his arms, his brother, the one you were crying for was standing there, a heartbroken look on his face, Quinn encouraged him to come closer and talk to you with his eyes.

“Mary I don’t think I could go too long without you” Jack muttered walking towards you, startling you and making you separate from Quinn who squeezed your arm lightly before going back to the party. You stood there paralyzed feeling embarrassed from Jack finding out you were feeling this way, not wanting to make it seem like you were making it about you when it was supposed to be one of the happiest nights for him. “I’m sorry you felt like we were drifting apart I guess I was too in my head about the draft that I forgot about what was really important” 

By now he already had you in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder as you held onto him tightly, as if you were scared he would disappear “You don’t have to apologize this, I- um it’s nothing I’m just overreacting I don’t know hormones or something” you stuttered out the sentence. 

“But I mean it Mary” he spoke softly “I should’ve never been too busy to call you back or drive to your house to see you”

“You were busy with hockey Jack I understand that” you said looking up at him “It was important”

“And you are important too, god Mary you’ve been the most important person in my life for ten years, who else could I love so much as they were throwing a slimy little worm at me? I even apologized for getting you grounded after you did that” he chuckled at the memory making you smile “And who else could get away with leaving me hanging at a truth or dare kiss? Do you have any idea how much Quinn made fun of me after he found out about it?” This time it was you laughing “All those 2AM snack trips, and sneaking back into the house without anyone noticing, which mom knows about by the way, apparently we are not as sneaky as we thought we were, are my favorite part of summer, because it's just us, and I get to see you, the real you, not you who feel like you have to constantly check up on Luke or sit up straight the whole time so your mom doesn’t call you out on your posture, or like you have to help Quinn with everything because none of us do and you don’t want him to be all stressed out, those nights of just you and me watching mamma mia in our pajamas, you singing to every single song and trying to get me to dance with you, I wouldn’t change it for the world, you are my best friend yeah but I think somewhere along the way I got lost in the road and ended up falling in love with you” His confession leaves you speechless, wondering if it is real, if your best friend who you have been in love with for ten years is really standing in front of you telling you he is also in loe with you, and its only when you feel his hand touch your face to pull some strand of hair out of it that you realize it is all very real, so you reach up and pull him by his neck connecting your lips in a kiss you had been waiting for for too long.

Pulling away after a minute, both of you with smiley faces you speak “It was a cute little caterpillar I threw at you, I regretted not kissing you as soon as I ran out of the tree house and for the record I’ve been in love with you since I was seven after you sat on the porch swing with me for hours when I thought my parents wouldn’t love me anymore” Jack chuckles at your remarks and pulls you back in for another kiss.

[echantedtoon]

EXPECTING: Upper Moons

This is just the reaction of the demons if you told them you were pregnant. It's been rattling around my mind forever and I had to write it out. Take it as a prequel to my Demon Dad's post, gonna do a P2 with the lower moons right after.

IMPORTANT: Daki will be included in Gyutaro's part and Zohakutan in Hantengu's cuz he's a part of Hantengu but both are PLATONIC ONLY!! Also I write Karaku strictly as the Relaxation clone instead of pleasure because everything I write is sfw.

Warnings for pregnancy mentions, Douma/Karaku ARE their own warnings, possibly some innuendos.

KOKUSHIBO:

"I'm pregnant."

-you told him as soon as you saw his form come to your shared home. It had been nearly three and a half months since you last saw your husband and nearly three months since you had come to the shocking conclusion that you both were about to become parents.

-You had to wait for a while because Muzan's business has his most trusted right hand man gone for weeks to months on end just to carry out business. You knew what you signed up for when you married the highest ranked demon but it didn't make your waiting anymore easy.

-You were worried and anxious the entire time you waited for him to come home. Staying up late a lot of the time to see if he'd be coming. So when he finally showed up expecting a hug and kiss you blurted it out from the pent up anticipation.

-His reaction was to freeze completely mid hug towards you, and just stand there and stare. He's the demon with the fastest reaction time besides Muzan, so he was able to process it rather quickly although color him surprised still.

-He's unsure what to believe at first. "That is... unlikely. You must have just been sick and lazy." He says referring to your recent weight gain and sickness. To which you inform him you had already seen at least two doctors and a midwife to confirm it all. He still doesn't believe it so you demand he look through the transparent world and take a look at you. If you WERE pregnant it'd confirm it if not then you both could find out what was wrong with you.

-He agrees and you stand still as half lidded bored eyes stared at you. Before six eyes widened in complete shock as they zero in on your middle. His body goes rigid as ice... before those six eyes roll up into his skull and he falls over with a heavy THUD!! sound echoing in your home. He didn't faint because you were pregnant, he fainted because of the extra life in your body.

-SURPRISE! IT'S TWINS!

DOUMA:

"I'm pregnant."

-You've been feeling a bit sick lately. At first thinking it was nothing but a stomach bug and it'd pass a few days with rest, but even after two weeks, even your lover got concerned and said you should be looked over by the cult's resident doctor. Well surprise surprise.

-He legit doesn't even register it. It flies right over his head when you first tell him. "That's nice, Dear! Did the doctor figure out why you're sick lately?" He blinks as you slam your forehead into the dinner table. "Was it something I said?"

-Look sometimes he's really smart other times he's stupid af.

-It doesn't register in his mind until he's in the middle of a sermon and it finally registers in his mind why you've been angry with him and what you said. He ends up quickly cutting the meeting short and leaving to find you quickly.

-Ends up being kicked out of your shared bedroom for a month begging to be let back in- "Lotus Blossom. Sweetie pie. Honey bunny! Please let me back in! I'm sorry!" Your response was to open the door and throw a blanket and pillow for him to use before angrily slamming it back shut. He ended up curled up on the ground in front of your door continuing to beg until you finally give in and opened it.

-Genuinely excited but he's definitely going to be dumb about a few things. ALL of the Kizuki are horrified Douma reproduced especially Muzan and Akaza.

AKAZA:

"I'm pregnant."

-He's absolutely stunned for the longest moment. When you told him you two needed to have a serious talk he was bracing himself into receiving news that you wanted to break up with him or a demon had been lurking about with how serious your tone was but never in his hundreds of years living was he expecting THIS.

-He stands there blinking and opening and closing his mouth mimicking a fish for the longest ten minutes of both of your lives..until the questions start in a panic. "Are you sure?! Is this a bad joke?! Did you see a doctor yet?! What did he say?! Are you SURE you're not just sick or something?!" He's not asking to be mean. He just wants to be sure this isn't just a bad day dream gone wrong.

-You answer all his questions calmly. Yes you saw a doctor. Yes you're pregnant. No it's not a joke or sickness.

-He goes silent again for a few seconds..before big tears gather in those pretty lashes of his and he lets out a choke as he wraps his arms around you and happy cries into your shoulder. He feels like the most blessed man in the world!

HANTENGU(+CLONES):

"I'm pregnant."

-Ever see a woman faint from shock? You knew your husbands' main body was an older gentleman but he was a powerful demon so you weren't exactly expecting him to freeze, shriek out in complete shock/fear, and then faint to the floor with a thud sound.

-It left you blinking at him as Karaku and Urogi laugh and point before Aizetsu gives them both a smack upside the head in Sekido's place.

-Safe to say he was pretty scared and shaken up.

SEKIDO:

-Sekido.exe has stopped working. Angry man just freezes up and lets his jaw drop in shock looking like a dam goldfish making both Urogi and Karaku laugh at his reaction. Give him a while. It's gonna take at least an hour for him to let it sink in and a whole ass week for him to come to terms with it. He's not angry about it but he is shocked. So very shocked.

URAMI:

-As soon as the two words leave your mouth he's whipping around at Karaku with a scowling, accusing face. "What the hell did you do?!" "What?! Why are you signaling ME out?!" "Take a guess!"

-Is surprisingly very calm about the situation. Groaning and rubbing his temples annoyed. You're surprised by his lack of surprise but his answer is pretty acceptable- "You have six husbands. I was expecting it to happen eventually."

AIZETSU:

-Like his fellow clones is shocked at first but Urogi's and Karaku's laughter as well as the sound of Hantengu fainting pulled him out of it enough to smack the two in Sekido's place to shut them up.

-Is one of the more serious ones. Cries and hugs you tight asking if you're feeling ok and if you need anything right at that moment. Give him a moment he's very emotional right now.

UROGI:

-It doesn't register for him at first. He's too busy laughing at Hantengu and Urami yelling at Karaku and Sekido's shocked face to really comprehend what he just heard.

-Big bonehead so it's not really hitting home until ten minutes in when it dawns on him. He freezes in his tracks for a solid ten seconds mouth open in a shocked smile..before making a choked ostrich noise and snapping back to you shocked but overjoyed in happiness. Expect him to push Aizetsu off you to hug you tightly.

KARAKU:

-Like Urogi he doesn't register it at first too busy laughing at Hantengu/Sekido and arguing with Urami to notice what you said but Aizetsu knocking his head made him realize what exactly happened.

-Stands there for almost as long as Sekido really. But eventually like Urogi he's absolutely happy with the news and overjoyed. Also low-key takes credit for everything annoying everyone.

ZOHAKUTAN:

-Like Sekido he's mostly shocked but it quickly turns to jealousy, annoyance, but still mostly shock. He's used to being the youngest so it's pretty much a jealous older sibling fit. But eventually he does warm up to the idea of becoming a big brother/uncle figure, but he won't admit it.

GYOKKO:

"I'm pregnant."

-(Ik but just for this let's just go with it.) Legit stops in the middle of making his latest vase to whip around and look at you wide eyed. Something he NEVER does! You can insult, assault, jabber on, and anything else you can think of but if he's in the middle of making art, nothing is going to interrupt him unless it's Muzan demanding his attention. However he does stop and look at you when you tell him which is a feat in of itself.

-He doesn't seem to notice at first only mumbling an 'uh huh' as he continues before he just ends up stopping molding the clay in his hands and whipping to you. There's a moment of you both just staring at one another before he just replies- "....Oh."

-He's not sure what to think tbh.

GYUTARO (+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

"I'm pregnant."

-Gyutaro.exe has stopped working. His entire brain becomes a big error blue screen as he just ends up staring at you along with Daki for the longest time. Both siblings shocked his girlfriend had just come up to them and announced her news so bluntly.

-Gyutaro eventually reacts first giving you a deep frown. "Oh haha. Very funny! Cut the shit out! I fucking hate jokes!" He gets angrier when you get mad and INSISTS that it's not a joke. It takes a few minutes of you arguing and yelling at him(which you usually NEVER did) to get it through his head.

-It then dawns on him that you probably weren't joking. He's asks you multiple times panicked if you were SURE and if you were really really REALLY sure! You yell yes every time until he finally stops talking. Going extremely quiet before all the color drains from his face, his eyes roll back, and he faints.

-Daki absolutely laughs when she does finally process everything as well and thinking her brother's reaction is the funniest thing ever! However she's genuinely happy to become an Auntie already planning to dress them up and parade them around her. Is also super confident it's gonna be a girl.

NAKIME:

"I'm pregnant."

-Surprisingly very calm reaction. She simply stops playing for a moment to regard you very calmly like nothing is out of the ordinary and asks you one question. "Are you absolutely sure?" You confirm it and she simply nods before just going back to playing her biwa. "Very well but YOU are taking care of everything that involves it. If you need to go anywhere I'll do that for you but that's it."

-She respects your choices but sets her boundaries early.

KAIGAKU:

"I'm pregnant."

-Shocked and actually let's out a- "What the fuck?" outta shock.

-Much like Gyutaro gets very mad at first thinking you're joking and after arguing with you for a long time finally gives up on it being a joke but denies you're actually pregnant despite you insisting that you weren't. He's too stubborn to admit it and doubts it still until you literally drag him by the arm to the nearest doctor who surprise, surprise confirms you both are actually going to be parents.

-Kaigaku doesn't say anything. Still doesn't say anything as you both leave and go home until you ask him what he's thinking about. "I think I really regret that last date night."

[cherry-pop-elf]

Break Him Back

Anya x Reader

SUM: YOU were who Anya confided in…

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Rape, Rape After math, unwanted pregnancy, Jimmy, violence, written by someone who’s a victim of sexual assault

“Anya? What’s the matter? It’s the middle of the night. I think…It’s in the middle of sleeping hours.” You tried to joke lightly, in the hopes to calm whatever nerves she had, but it seemed to not get a laugh out of her. Not this time.

“I….Can….Do you….I need to tell you something. I need to tell someone, but I don’t know who. I think you. You will believe me and understand. Right?”

This was making you confused. What’s she going on about? Did she have a nightmare? You sure knew a thing or two about those. Nightmares can feel so real sometimes. Probably just shaken up from it.

“Come on in my room. Come on Doc.” You would user her in, and she was quick to follow. Quick to just sit on your bed. Sit and pretty much curl up on herself. As if she had the world’s worst stomach ache. You figured it’s the nerves from the nightmare.

You would sit down next to her, as she just stared into no real direction. It was towards the floor but her eyes just didn’t really seem to look there. Was like her soul was somewhere else while her body remained. Like she was looking from above, like some third person view.

She just wasn’t really there.

“Anya? What’s up? Nightmare?” You asked, as you would rub her back. The way she flinched away from your touch seemed to be what made her finally have the ability to see through her eyes again. See, and have tears trickle down.

“I wish it was.” She whispered to you, as she squeezed at her stomach more. Was like she was trying to crush her own organs. Was making you more scared. The hell has her so damn rattled? She’s a Nurse. Isn’t it hard to rattle people like that?

“I’m…..I….Oh what do I even say?” She just couldn’t raise her voice. Was like she was terrified of someone overhearing them. That someone would hurt her.

“Hey hey. Deep breathes. I’m right here. You can tell me anything. We’ve been friends for ages. Whatever happened I’m here to listen.” You would do your best to comfort. You didn’t want to attempt to touch her again so you were trying your best to use words.

Was a long silence now. You didn’t rush her. She needed to get a chance to collect herself. Figure out how to speak whatever is needed. You were willing to wait forever for her. You loved her after all.

“I….Would this count as cheating?”

You blinked at that. Made your heart drop to.

Was she saying she cheated on you?

No no. That’s not your Anya. You weren’t going to jump the gun. Something clearly has her shaken. Maybe she was just struggling with words. You were going to let her speak before doing anything rash.

“I…..I’m pregnant.”

The bombshell made you feel dizzy. What does she mean she was pregnant? That was impossible. There was no way. At least not between you to at least. That was what you knew for as a fact. No way.

That meant it was someone else.

Daisuke? No way. Definitely not him. He’s genuinely a wonderful kid. He was so kind and sweet, and had so many other things to think about. Not to mention he was a shitty liar. If he and Anya had something going on there was zero chance no one wouldn’t know. Especially Swansea. They spent to much time together.

Speaking of him you tried to think about Big Swan next.

That was also impossible. Why? Well he got a vasectomy. Was even in his medical reports. Sure they weren’t 100% but like 99.99% is still impossibly small. Not to mention you lowkey doubt he could get it up anymore anyway. But you were keeping that to yourself. He may be sober but you recall that he and his wife struggled to have kids for a while.

Could it be the Captain? Captain Curly? He and her were close, but you also just couldn’t imagine it. Why? Well his ass was gay. Unless Anya suddenly had a transition you weren’t aware of you were certain he wouldn’t be remotely attracted to her.

Last was….

Jimmy.

Jimmy had been a massive creep to Anya the moment the ship took off. Always finding excuses to be alone with her, making unwarranted comments about her body, touching her at any chance he could, and just over all being a major creep. Had gotten to the point where Curly out right ordered him to knock it off. You even overheard him telling Swansea to keep an eye on Jimmy. To find his own reason to be in the room if he isolated himself with her.

That’s when your soul left your body.

Would this count as cheating?

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god no.

“When did this happen?” You weren’t sure how your voice came out. You were holding back anger. Not to Anya. No. Never. She did nothing wrong. It was Jimmy and Jimmy alone.

“About a month ago. At first I thought it was a rather real nightmare. That I was just dreaming. That what happened was just me being afraid of him. During it I had blacked out and I just assumed that meant I fell back asleep with in the dream. Then I started having symptoms. Symptoms that were too coincidental to be ignored. I took a test and…..Here I am.”

She sniffled, and that was the only thing to make your rage subside. For now anyway. You had to be there for her right now. She needed you. You would control your emotions for her. She needed someone. She needed you.

“Whatever happens next happens next. Alright? You want to get rid of it we will find a way. If you wanna keep it we will find a way to take care of them until we can get back home. Alright? This doesn’t make me love you any less. This doesn’t make me see you as broken or damaged goods. You aren’t any less my girlfriend as the day I asked you to be mine. We will get through this.”

She would keep sniffling into your shoulder, as you laid down with her. Holding her as tightly as you could, while your eyes remained glued to your door. Just as much expecting Jimmy to break in as she did.

“Does he know?”

She nodded.

“He said it was my problem, not his.” She hiccuped, as she just squeezed you tighter. The only thing to calm her down was you. You were who she trusted. You were who she loved. You were what kept her going.

You didn’t get any sleep that night, and you didn’t care.

You didn’t care.

You were too busy thinking over what to do next.

As the hours went on you tried to think.

The ship wasn’t exactly built to house prisoners. There was still a year left to the journey. Murder couldn’t just be the answer. Well you were certainly planning murder but you were doubtful Curly was gonna allow murder on his ship. Justified or not.

The hell were you going to do?

Teach him a lesson that’s what.

Beat him until he was unable to ever lay hands on anyone again.

With that made up you would suddenly hear your alarm go off. Anya would rub at her eyes, as you realized you really didn’t get sleep at all. Just kept her close and safe. Least you knew no one was touching her.

You two would get dressed for the day, since you two were a couple there was a spare jumpsuit for her in your closet of course, and make the journey to the kitchen. Determination was on your face, as Anya just meekly held your arm for support.

There the rest of the crew was. There like nothing had happened at all. Curly was working on making coffee for everyone, Swansea was fighting to wake up, Daisuke was sitting on the counter with his feet swinging, and there was Jimmy. There ever at Curly’s side. Like some tumor.

“Morning guys!” Daisuke would wave happily, as Anya gave a meek one in return. Swansea would give a ‘huh wha-?’ Like the dad he was, while Curly turned and flashed his brilliant smile. Jimmy? Didn’t even acknowledge you two.

Oh that made you burn with anger.

Wasn’t even so much as a thought about her.

She was nothing.

“Curly, I’ll handle coffee for us. You go and sit down. Rest. I know you’ve been working to hard.” You tried to keep calm, and plastered a fake smile.

“Oh aren’t you kind. Thank you.” He would step away from where he had been, and soon joined Swansea at the table. The voice to keep him awake as Daisuke joined with Anya. Everyone away, while Jimmy remained in the kitchen nook. Curious as to why you had offered.

You would keep your fists clenched at your side, as you now stood next to him. Eyes glued to the coffee maker in-front of you both. A painful silence was shared between you both. Was like the voices at the table didn’t even exist. Was just the two of you.

He would side eye you, and you side eyed him back.

For a brief moment, you swore he knew that you knew. That you knew what he did.

But as quickly as he showed it, that vanished from his eyes.

As if it was nothing more than just accidentally bumping into her in the hallway.

That’s when you snapped.

“I hope this hurts-“

You grabbed the handle of the coffee pot and SMASHED it against his face. Boiling hot coffee splashed everywhere. Including on yourself. You could hardly notice, as you were pinning him to the ground.

“THE HELL YOU DOING?!”

Not often Curly swore, as if Hell even was one but if anything that showed how hard it was to get him rilled up. Guess seeing your best friends face be full of glass, skin suffering second to third degree burns, and screaming bloody murder is gonna set everyone on edge.

You didn’t really care. All you saw was red. Pretty sure you didn’t even blink. You just were wailing on him. Adrenalin was pumping through your veins. Made any pain you felt not compute. You just needed to beat Jimmy into a pulp.

“KID GET OFF OF HIM-!” Swansea would pull you off him, while Curly pulled Jimmy away from you. Meanwhile Daisuke was standing infront of Anya. Willing to use himself as a shield to protect her before himself. Even so young he knew where he stood.

“THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The two men shouted, while Jimmy was sobbing into Curly. Using him as some kind of shield. Like he would be saved by his Captain.

“What’s wrong with me?! WHATS WRONG WITH HIM?!” You snapped back, as you tried to pull away from Swansea. To try and keep beating him over and over. Curse him for having that mechanic strength.

“All he was doing was standing there and doing nothing!” Curly would shout at you, as he tried to look over the wounds. To see what he could do.

“Anya please hurry over here-!”

But she refused.

She refused.

“Anya?! Anya come over here! Please! Don’t make me order you!” He shouted, but she just stepped further away.

Curly was so confused.

That’s when you fixed that.

“That man you are holding there RAPED ANYA! Not only that, he got her PREGNANT! AND HE TOLD HER IT WAS HER PROBLEM NOT HIS.”

That’s when everyone went silent. All except Jimmy and Daisuke.

Jimmy kept hissing and crying in pain, while Daisuke was throwing up. Poor kid. So much was running through everyone’s head now. That they had been talking to, being friends with, living with a monster.

That’s when Swansea let you go.

Did he do it because he was in shock? Maybe his way of saying to keep beating Jimmy? You didn’t know. You just knew Curly looked more sick than even Anya.

“There….There has to be a misunderstanding….”

You wanted to smack Curly for saying that, but at the same time you couldn’t help but sympathize.

Would you believe someone if they told you your best friend raped someone?

Would you not beg to hear the full story? To get the full picture?

Wouldn’t you want to fight for their innocents?

Wouldn’t you have a moment of denial?

Wouldn’t you?

“It’s true…I have the test results to prove it. Prove he….Prove he did what he did.” Anya would do her best to speak for herself. It was so hard, but she knew she had to. She had to so that maybe others could be saved.

Saved from him.

“I…Maybe the test came back wrong. Did you take a second test?” The more Curly talked the more you wanted to beat him next. Luckily Swansea grabbed you again. How he grabbed you wasn’t to keep you from beating people. Just held you close. Like a father to a daughter who came home crying.

“Yes. I wanted to be sure of course. Of course. Even a third time. It was positive. He hurt me.” Anya would nod, as Curly looked down to Jimmy. To see him looking so pathetic in his arms. Face scorched, bleeding, full of tears, and looking like shit.

The captain would look to everyone. Scanned each face carefully. How Swansea was looking down at Jimmy with disgust, the way Daisuke was unable to even look towards the kitchen but still fought his stomach to hold Anya in a comforting hug. When his eyes landed on hers. To see them so glassy…He just knew.

“What have you done, Jimmy?”

If it was hypothetical or not, you’ll never know.

You just knew that right now you were sitting in the co-pilot seat. Helping monitor the asteroid belt the Tulpar was traveling through.

Anya was busy with patching up Swansea after he got a nasty cut on his arm from working in a vent.

Daisuke himself was currently bringing a tray to what was once Anya’s room. With the help of the skills of a mechanic, and the curious mind of someone who has played quite the handful of secret passage way games, they were able to turn a once bedroom into a makeshift prison cell.

A place to insert food, a gap to look inside, all the works. Thank goodness each bedroom had its own bathroom.

“Here’s lunch…” Daisuke would push the tray in, and didn’t even stay a second longer.

Even he couldn’t give him a passing smile.

He would just return back to the med-bay. A smile for Anya plastered on him, as that made her beam in return.

A smile she deserved.

A smile that Jimmy will only see again when he’s in handcuffs, and behind real bars.

A smile that said…

Rot. In. Hell.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: You've always loved your boyfriend's tattoos but panic when he offers to have you choose his next one.

Genre: fluff, blurb

Warnings: mentions of needles and tattoos, swearing, relationship insecurities

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

More times than you'd admit, you'd stare at Tangerine's tattoos—just as you're doing now—your nails tracing the designs on his forearms as you sit in his lap, straddling him.

You know he has more, some that spread across the muscles of his back and down his sides.

You want to touch those too.

"Why don't ya choose my next one, luv?" Tangerine asks suddenly, his hand coming up to push some hair away from your forehead as he admires your expression. Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, turning to look at him seriously.

"What?! I could never," you say, snatching your hand away from his skin as if it burned you, though you keep your position in his lap.

Genuinely confused, your boyfriend twirls his hand in your hair. "And why's that?"

"Because tattoos are so permanent!" you exclaim, your cheeks burning warm. "You'll have that on your body forever."

"Mm, yes, that's the point, a forever reminder of my favorite girl."

You say no again, your tone ending the discussion, but Tangerine knows you better than that. He smoothes a hand down your hair once more. "Is this not forever for you?" he mutters, the question genuine. There is no hint of annoyance or malice in his tone.

You feel your stomach sink and instinctively, you shift closer to him. "What?! No!"

Tangerine smiles and leans his cheek against your head. "Then what's the problem?"

You feel guilty as you take your lip in your mouth and your chew. What is the problem? The question plays on a loop in your head as you try to come up with an answer that doesn't sound stupid and childish.

"I mean, Tan, this feels like forever because I love you more than I need air, but nothing is really forever, is it? What if you wake up one morning and you don't love me anymore, and then you have a reminder of me engraved on your body?"

You pick at your nails, your voice going so small it breaks your boyfriend's heart. "And you know I don't want tattoos—so if you have one from me everyone's gonna wonder why I don't have one from you and—"

Tangerine suddenly presses his index against your lips and it's his turn to shifts so he's leaning up against the headboard, gripping your hips so you're positioned on his lap in a way that your ass isn't completely digging into his groin. 

His hand traces under your chin and then he cups your cheeks as he smiles. "My luv, I don't care what anyone thinks. I wasn't asking so ya'd also get one done, promise. Couple tattoos are incredibly cringey," he jokes with a scoff, then continues, his tone serious again, "now what's all this talk about me stopping loving ya? Ya gone completely mental on me now, darlin'?"

You look away, embarrassed. "I don't know."

Tangerine shakes his head and tuts. "Well, you're talkin' absolute nonsense. You're it for me, ya hear me? That's why I want a reminder of you forever engraved on my skin—because if by some hellish circumstances I can't have ya, I don't want anyone else. I'm yours and only yours."

He kisses your nose. "So, if you're willin', I'd love nothin' more than to have ya choose another for me, m'okay? Something small if you want, just for us."

You listen to him, taking in his words and then you smile and lean in to kiss his lips, warming up to his proposal so much so that a few weeks later, you stand to the side as Tangerine sits in the tattoo chair.

His arm rests on the small table to his left and his tattoo guy, a burly American named Dennis covered in tattoos, smiles at you. "So this is your little lady," he grins as he prepares the ink, "she is as sweet as you said, man."

Tangerine chuckles and beckons you over so you stand closer to him. "Isn't she?" he beams and turns to you. "Okay, show him, darlin'," he says and you hand Dennis a small paper where you'd drawn a small heart. It's simple. Nothing fancy—just a simple little heart that Tangerine wants on his wrist, almost hidden by his other tattoos but still visible enough for him. 

"Is it gonna hurt?" you whisper, worried for him, and Dennis chuckles. 

"I'm sure your boy can handle some pain," he jokes and Tangerine holds you hand with his other one. 

"I love you", he mouths, as his blue eyes shimmer with excitement at the anticipation of having something you'd drawn immortalized on his skin.

Once Dennis is finished with the tattoo and Tangerine can examine it, he turns and shows it to you. "Well? What do ya think?"

You barely blink. You can't tear your eyes away from the tiny heart drawing on his wrist and when you look up at him, knowing he has your real heart anyways, you break into a beaming grin.

"I absolutely adore it," you say honestly and those words have never made Tangerine as happy as now.

[reverie-starlight]

lucifer in love

in which the avatar of pride tries and fails to get you out of bed

gn!MC, no physical descriptions. fluff. fluff. fluff. lucifer is scared but it’s okay, he’s just not used to being in love yet, he’ll get there, he swears it. pet names (including little lamb once bc it’s canon). he’s literally so in love.

this has no bearing on the fic, but in my mind this is OG game a few months into your relationship, not NB setting. also I sprinkle in some of my own lore headcanons here.

lucifer was not a morning demon.

everyone in the house of lamentation knew it. his brothers would normally steer clear of him until breakfast (aside from the days that satan and belphie were feeling particularly confident), even diavolo and barbatos knew better than to start drowning him with work before a certain time of day.

coincidentally, you weren’t exactly built for mornings, either.

but still, lucifer had incredible resolve and far more years of discipline built up within him than you did. which obviously made the mornings you’d wake up in his bed difficult for both of you.

“my love, it’s time to wake up,” he leaned over your sleeping body placed a hand on your shoulder. he was already fully dressed and (somewhat) ready to brave the early morning hours. he wanted to let you sleep in as long as possible, and it pained him to rouse you from such serenity, but he also knew you’d miss breakfast if he let you rest any longer. and then you’d really be cranky.

his lips formed a small yet genuine, fond smile when he heard you grumbling. “nooo, just a bit longer…” your voice was muffled by his sheets, and you tried to turn away from him.

“little lamb…” he warned, but there was no real bite behind it and you knew it. lucifer knew well that you were as stubborn as he was, so it wasn’t surprising to him in the slightest when you kept pleading with him.

“pleaseee lucifer, come lay with me for a bit longer. I want you near me.”

he sighed. he dared not show any signs of how tempted he was by you. the irony of a human being the one to tempt a demon.

but he did not waiver. “MC, you’ll be late if you stay in bed any longer.”

“so what?” you whined indignantly. “I haven’t been late or even missed a class in weeks- in fact you showed me just last night how deserving I was of a reward for good behaviour. let’s just play hooky today.”

he rolled his eyes slightly. of course you would use his excuse for getting you into his room last night against him to sleep in longer.

you turned to him, laying on your back and staring up at his unamused face with a still-sleepy grin of your own. “come on, baby, just lay with me. we don’t have to skip if you insist on going, but being a little late won’t hurt, you know?”

he blinked and tried to keep his composure. he still wasn’t quite used to being on the receiving end of pet names, and human ones at that, but you had been growing quite comfortable with throwing them at him lately.

this was the third time you had called him that in the past week, and he still wasn’t sure if he liked it or not… he’d need it to be tested a few more times before he could make a final decision.

He didn’t feel the need to test out terms of endearment- he knew what he was comfortable saying and calling you, and you never seemed to complain with him sticking with some of the more… classic? is that how you put it? names. with the exception of little lamb. obviously.

if he was being honest, though, he had been holding back. human world terms of endearment felt so lacklustre in comparison to those in infernal. he would never admit this, but he was… hesitant to use devildom terms of endearment on you.

often times they couldn’t be translated into any human language, nor could the feelings they spoke of be conveyed differently. the things that lucifer wanted to call you were akin to that of a declaration of complete devotion forever and always. even by demon standards they were intense, because they basically promised that even after death, there would be no one else.

his hesitation was not because he was unsure if he felt the emotions they conveyed for you. not at all, he knew his feelings and yours as well.

but you’ve thrown him for a loop. even if he was sure… he wanted to wait a bit before showing you just how deep his feelings ran. because the intensity of it all was something he had never felt for anyone in all his millennia. the fact that he had someone he could even toss around the idea of using those names on… those feelings were just for him to get comfortable with, so that when he was truly ready, he could pull it off without a hitch.

he wondered if lilith had felt for her human anywhere close to what he felt for you, sometimes, but he always buried that thought away as quickly as it popped into his mind.

blame it on his pride getting in the way, or call it what it was- fear of what being in love was doing to him and what it would continue to do to him. and what it meant he would be willing to do for you…

“uh, lucifer? my love? you’re staring off into space, is everything okay?”

your voice brought him out of his thoughts and the concern within it made him warm inside.

he was still leaning over you, hand gently gripping your shoulder, and your face was wrinkled with worry. he loved you.

until he had it all worked out, he’d show you as much as he could through human declarations of love and lots of action.

he looked down at his wrist as if to check a non-existent watch. “fine, I suppose there’s time to spare.”

he let the sound of your victorious laughter wash all over him and bathed in the feeling of your arms around his neck after he crawled over you to reach his side of the bed.

your smile was radiant, and he felt another piece of the armour encasing his heart chip away. he had been feeling that a lot since you first started the exchange program, but even more so since you both began your relationship.

there was no stopping this, he was falling headfirst into unknown territory for the second time in his life, for a completely different reason this time.

but he’d never ask for anything else. because just like the first time, he figured that this could only result in changing his life for the better as well.

once again he had to shake himself out of his thoughts. you were smiling and talking about one thing or another- he missed the start of the conversation- and playing with his tie.

lucifer was not a morning demon. he woke up exhausted, he dreaded the pile of work forever thrown at him. but his resolve was insanely strong.

maybe he’d give in to you more often if it meant he got to have you like this, in his arms, laughing at his ruined resolve and how weak he is for you, for the rest of your life.

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haha get it? rest of your life bc you’re mortal and he’s not?

anyway I hope you enjoyed!!