#he’s so grumpy I love him

[emarttt]

I love when he’s pissed just bc of tea

[plaguedsoulrealism]

My impulses took over I needed to share my silly grumpy clown man, Baggins

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas 2023: Day 7. Stormy Reunion | David/Charley (OC)

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Charley Tate could literally be under the water in a bathtub and she’d probably be drier than she was right now. Hell, at least she’d be naked and warm, unlike now, with her soaking wet clothes clinging to her skin and the below freezing temperature turning her nose, fingers and probably her toes bright red. That was if she even had any toes left - she couldn’t feel her feet at all, so they may well have fallen off and she’d not have noticed.

She’d been waiting on the street corner for a taxi for the last twenty minutes, but no empty cars passed her by. She shivered, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and wondered if it might be better to go back into the train station and wait there until morning.

A car approached, and she peered hopefully through the rain in the hopes it was a taxi, but it was just a police car. Maybe she could get herself arrested - a night in a prison cell might be slightly preferable to freezing to death on the street corner.

The police car slowed down, and she thought for a moment she was going to be arrested - surely the cop didn’t think she was soliciting herself in this weather, did he?

With all the rain on the windows, she couldn’t see through, so she had only to wait for the window to slowly roll down to see her visitor.

“Can I help you, Officer?” Charley asked as politely as she could when she had to shout to be heard over the rain.

“Charley?” came the reply, a deep, baritone voice she hadn’t heard in years, but she recognised it straight away. She bent down slightly to peer into the car.

“David Friedman? Is that you?”

“Yeah it’s me, the real question is what the hell are you doin’ back in New Orleans and why are you tryna catch your death?”

“Can I answer those questions in the back of your car? Preferably with the heating on full blast?”

David sighed, but he gestured to the passenger door. “Get in the front. I ain’t arresting ya.”

“Thanks, Dave!”

Charley hurried around to the other side of the car and climbed in, sighing with relief when the warmth of the heating hit her face.

“Damn, Charley, you’re soaked. Good thing I found ya. Here.”

David shrugged his jacket off and handed it to her. She wanted to tell him not to bother getting his jacket wet for her, but she was far too cold to worry about manners now.

“Oh my god, Dave, you are my saviour,” Charley groaned with relief, slumping back in the seat. “I owe you big time. A new jacket, for one.”

“Yeah, well, don’t take this for granted. I’m a cop, not a taxi driver. Where to? Your folks’ place?”

“Naw, they downsized soon as I left. No room for li’l Charlotte anymore. I’m stayin’ at the Empress.”

“You’re what?! Hell naw. If you managed to get there without dyin’ of pneumonia, you’d die from some infection or another from that place. If you ain’t got no place to stay, you’re stayin’ with me.”

Charley’s heart did a somersault, and she tried to ignore it. She hadn’t seen David in three years, and she’d done her mighty best to forget him in that time. So of course, as soon as she came back to New Orleans, he was the first fucker she ran into.

“You don’t have to do that, Dave. I can handle the hotel –”

“It’s my place or the precinct, doll. I ain’t leavin’ you there and gettin’ up tomorrow to see your obit splashed across the front page.”

“Aww, I knew you still cared!”

“Naw, I just ain’t bothered with the paperwork.”

She glanced over at him, and although he was trying to act cool, she could see the twitch of a smile on his face even as he peered through the rain to head towards his place.

“So you gonna tell me what you’re doin’ in New Orleans, Charley? Last I heard you were off to New York to make it big.”

Charley shrugged, wrapping David’s jacket around her shoulders a little tighter, and she couldn’t help noticing he still wore the same oaky aftershave he’d always worn.

“Didn’t make it. Clearly. Sold everything I had just to get a ticket home.”

“Wait - everything? You ain’t even got a bag on you, Charley.”

“I got a wallet! Not that there’s much in there. Just enough to keep me in the hotel for, like, a month.”

“Well, you ain’t steppin’ foot in that hotel, so you can use that cash to buy yourself some damn clothes for one.”

“I gotta stay somewhere, Dave –”

“Yeah, my place.”

“What? No! I’ll take ya up on it tonight, Dave, but I can’t stay.”

David waved his hand at her dismissively. “Shut the fuck up, Charley. You stayed enough times before.”

“Yeah, but that was… different.”

David glanced at her, then turned his eyes back to the road.

“Don’t have to be,” he muttered.

Charley frowned. “What?”

“I said, it don’t have to be,” David repeated, clearly agitated at having to repeat himself. “Different, I mean.”

Charley sat up in her seat slightly, looking at him curiously. “What makes you think I want it to be the same? Maybe I got me a boyfriend back in New York.”

David scoffed. “Oh yeah? Then why ain’t you stayin’ with him?”

She didn’t answer, and chose to stare out the rain-soaked window instead. She could just make out the illuminated store signs as they went by, and she recognised every single one of them. New Orleans had hardly changed in the three years since she’d left. Hell, even David hadn’t changed.

“Charley, I’m serious about stayin’ with me long as you need to,” David said, breaking the silence. “It don’t have to be the same if you don’t want it. I’m sure us southern country bumpkins don’t stand up to the fancy folks in New York –”

“I tried to date,” she said, interrupting him. She looked over at him again, admiring the gorgeous profile of the man she’d said goodbye to three years ago. “But I never liked them fancy folks, Dave. I suppose my type is more… rugged.”

David glanced at her, and for a moment their eyes met before he turned his attention back to the road, but she saw enough of the old familiar fire in his eyes to know her old flame still wanted her.

“I gotta get gas,” David muttered as a gas station came up ahead.

“How’s Jess?”

“Fuckin’ big. Comes up to my waist now.”

“She still with her mom?”

“You askin’ if I got back with my cheating wife, Charley?”

“Just askin’. I know it was hairy when I left.”

“Yeah, she’s with her mom. I get her on weekends, though. ‘Specially now that Matty’s in jail.”

“Matty’s what?”

David smirked at her as he pulled into the gas station. “Oh, yeah. He was involved in all sortsa shady shit. Colluded with Senator Hornbeck an’ everything. I’ll tell ya all about it - after I get gas.”

“Aw, Dave, ya can’t leave me hangin’ like that!” Charley whined, getting out of the car with him in hopes of hearing the story sooner. “What’d they do?”

“Later, Charley,” David insisted, nodding subtly to another man who was pumping his gas within earshot.

Charley huffed and leaned against the car, hugging David’s jacket closer around her as he started filling the gas tank.

“I always knew Matty was up to no good,” she said. “Past just stealin’ your wife.”

“Yeah, thanks for remindin’ me,” David replied.

“Aw, c’mon now. If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had a brief but passionate love affair with a cute bar singer, now, would ya?”

She grinned at him flirtatiously, and he rolled his eyes, which she knew meant she was charming him.

“Wait here,” David told her, tossing her the keys after finishing up. “Don’t go drivin’ off in that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Detective.”

Charley paced around a little, trying to keep warm as she waited for David to come out of the shop where he was paying. When he returned, he was carrying a coat.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “You’re still shiverin’.”

“Dave! You didn’t have to do that –”

“I ain��t letting you freeze to death before I even get you home, doll.”

She looked at him, a smirk on her lips. “No? What you plannin’ for when you get me home, then, Dave?”

“Somethin’ like this.”

He closed the gap between them, pushing her up against the car, and her previously cold lips lit up with a fiery passion as David kissed her, just as greedily as she remembered. Christ, she’d missed this. Missed his lips on hers, the way his strong arms wrapped around her much smaller frame, and trapping her against the car just made her feel smaller, more trapped, and a hell of a lot more aroused.

A car horn honked, and David pulled away, panting, desire burning hot in his eyes.

“How much further to yours?” Charley asked, similarly out of breath.

“Half an hour.”

“Fuck that. Find a layby and take me in the back, Dave, just like old times.”

“Ohh, I fuckin’ want to,” David growled, his hands wrapped around her waist, ignoring the continued honks from the car behind. “But you’re still soaked, doll, and not in the good way. I won’t rest easy ‘til I get you somewhere with central heating. Then I’ll make you scream ‘til you’re beggin’ me to stop.”

“Then get to drivin’, mister.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

When they arrived at David’s place half an hour later, Charley was a lot warmer and drier, but when she got out of the car she still left a considerable wet patch behind. Her arousal had died down a little as they talked for the rest of the journey and David filled her in on how Matty Grimes had landed himself in jail, but it didn’t take long to reignite it when she entered the familiar house, which hadn’t changed much in three years, and David hoisted her over his shoulder, making her squeal in surprise.

“David Friedman, you put me down!” Charley demanded, but he only laughed.

“I will, doll, I will.”

He climbed the stairs with her over his shoulder, and she knew exactly where he was taking her. Sure enough, he turned into his bedroom and put her back down on her feet as he pushed the door closed with his foot.

“Them clothes are awful wet, doll. Better get ‘em off quick.”

Charley did her best to peel off her t-shirt, but it really was stuck to her, so David helped her and with much laughter and fumbling the two of them managed to get her wet clothes off and tossed aside, leaving her standing naked but for her bra and panties, while he was still fully dressed.

“Gonna arrest me for indecent exposure, Detective?” Charley teased, fingers dancing along his tie before tugging at the knot to loosen it. “Or are you gonna join me?”

“I’m not in the shape I was when you left,” David warned her as he pulled his tie over his head before starting working on the buttons of his shirt. “Three years of post-divorce depression’s not great for the gut. Plus I’m an old man, Charley, it’s hard to stay in shape.”

“You think I fuckin’ care if you put on a few pounds, Dave? I think I made it pretty obvious I think you’re fuckin’ hot. And you ain’t that old.”

“I’m fifty-three. You’re, what? Twenty-somethin’?”

Charley shrugged and unbuckled his belt for him. “An’ I was twenty-somethin’ last time, too, that didn’t stop ya.”

She went to pull his pants down, but David grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“Three years ago I was drowning my sorrows in drink every night at Banana Joe’s ‘cus my wife was divorcin’ me to get with my old partner. I see some pretty li’l thing singin’ with a band up there and she starts flirtin’ with me after. ‘Course I’m gonna take her home. My fragile ego needed the boost. But you were right to leave, Charley. I ain’t boyfriend material. Clearly, I ain’t even husband material. You had your dreams and you followed ‘em, and I’m sorry they let you down. Now, I fuckin’ missed you, and if you want me to, I will stick my cock in every damn hole you got ‘cus I am still a sad, lonely old drunk who’s no good for nobody. But if you think you’re gettin’ some boyfriend outta this, then I’m sorry to disappoint, doll. ‘Cus I ain’t lookin’ for no girlfriend.”

“Are you done?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, are you done? Or are you gonna tell me more ‘bout how you don’t love me and you just want a good fuck? ‘Cus I didn’t come back for you, David Friedman. I didn’t even wanna come back. But I had nowhere else to go. Now, you wanna offer me a warm bed and a good fuck while I find my feet in this town? Fine. But I ain’t looking for no boyfriend neither, Dave. I’ve had a hell of a week, and fucking you might well make it all worth it. Now, are you gonna remind me what your cock tastes like or not?”

David grinned hungrily and released her wrist from his grip.

“By all means, doll. I’m all yours.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she sunk to her knees and pulled his pants down as she went. Charley moaned hungrily when his erect cock popped out of his boxers, just as big as she remembered it.

“See, now they ain’t got cocks like this in New York,” she teased as she took the base of his shaft in her hand and held it still while she licked around his tip, teasing out the precum. “All that shoutin’ and runnin’ about - they’re compensatin’ for somethin’. But you ain’t got nothin’ to compensate for, do ya, boo?”

“Awful lot of talking and not a lot of cocksucking down there,” David replied, and she grinned mischievously.

“Sorry, Daddy.”

She opened her mouth and let him in, and they both groaned as his shaft pushed past her lips and towards the back of her throat.

“Mmm, that’s it… only wanna hear you suckin’. Get a real good taste of it, Charl. Mhm… ah, fuck. Just what I needed after a - ah! - long day…”

His hand tangled itself in her hair as she bobbed back and forth, relieved to finally taste him on her tongue again. She didn’t care that he was a good thirty years her senior, or that he was a cop, or that he was the grumpiest man in existence. She didn’t wanna date him, after all. She just wanted to suck his cock, to fuck him and be fucked him by him, to feel his stubble rubbing against her thighs as he ate her out.

Sure, in the short time they’d spent together, they didn’t spend every moment fucking. Sometimes they ate, or showered, or watched TV. Sometimes they even talked, and she even found she liked talking to him. But he was in the middle of a messy divorce, and she didn’t wanna touch that with a bargepole, especially since she was still fucked up from a cheating ex.

Now, that was three years ago, and she was over that scumbag. She hoped David was over his ex too, but she supposed it was harder for him because he had to co-parent with her. Still, he must need a stress relief. An eager young thing desperate to make him feel good, because she’s just as fucked up as he is and approval from him makes up for all the ways she’s fucked up her own life.

And approval was definitely what she was getting right now, if David’s moans were anything to go by. He always had been a very vocal man. Whether muttering dirty things in her ear at the bar or grunting as he fucked her into his bed, David Friedman certainly made his feelings known.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum all down that throat of yours,” David groaned, his hand now holding her head in place as he fucked her mouth desperately. “Ugh - oh - fucking hell, Charl… fuck!”

His hips snapped forward and stilled, his cock stuffed as far down her throat as it could go, and she could only moan as she felt him fill her up with his hot cum, trickling down her throat just where it belonged. It must have been a while since he last jacked off because he shot a good load down there, and she made sure to breathe through her nose as he did.

She whined a little when he pulled out, and David just laughed at her as she instinctively followed him.

“Christ, I fuckin’ needed that,” he said with a sigh of relief, his head lolling back slightly as he caught his breath.

Charley, meanwhile, was eagerly lapping up what he’d left on her lips, and he laughed when he looked down at her.

“Thirsty li’l thing, huh? Don’t worry, darlin’. I ain’t that old - I got another round in me. But first, get your ass on that bed. Reckon it’s my turn to remind myself what you taste like.”

Why on earth had she ever left for New York, she asked herself half an hour later when she was wrapped up in David’s arms, both sweaty and out of breath, laughing at the ridiculousness of the fact she’d hardly been back two hours and had already found herself in his bed.

“Welcome back to New Orleans, Charl,” David said as he pulled you in tighter. “You better be fuckin’ stayin’ this time.”

“Oh, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, David Friedman.”

“Good.” David kissed the top of her head, a lot more gently than she’d expected.

“Is it?”

“What?”

“Good?”

“‘Course it fuckin’ is.”

“Alright. ‘Cus I gotta be honest, Dave, I couldn’t get you off my damn mind. I sure as hell didn’t come back for ya, but I sure hoped I’d run into ya. Didn’t expect it to be so soon, mind.”

“‘M glad it was,” David mumbled sleepily. “Missed you.”

His eyes were closed, so he didn’t see her smiling coyly.

“Missed you too, Dave.”

But he was already asleep.

[sphinxflowers]

Can’t argue about his hair colour if everything red

(Also thank you @levelheaded-mediator for allowing me to consult u extensively on glasses shapes)

[hippolotamus]

Submitting him as a specimen for wet beast Wednesday… if you even care

[missygoesmeow]

I had a dream about Rolan last night. It was very beauty and the beast lmao

[idlelemons]

Sometimes all I think about is you

[shoopsthereitis]

it’s regulus’ little scowl for me

guys this is my really really good high quality amazing 11/10 jegulus fanart

it took me years actually

[luriuan]

My favorite brand of avatar screenshots

[gunstellations]

its sonics turn! 👅

[witch--btch]

Sleeping positions…

Official Art by Satoru Nii

[starwarjotta]

Day 3 - cloak thankfully Obi-Wan's robe cloak is big enough to wrap around a certain Commander who might've been tossed into the freezing river during a mission oh and when there's a chance to make something even more Codywan? ofc I'll do it, here's a bonus

it was a long mission, okay

[tangents-within-tangents]

Echo canonically being sentimental (and a sweetheart)

With his armor, there's also the "For Hevy" memorial, the fact he kept Rex's handprint, and that he put the Bad Batch skull on his armor before he even joined them

Echo holding 99 as he died has always stuck out to me as one of the saddest/sweetest things in TCW (especially since the show rarely actually shows clones mourning/expressing much emotion)

I also noticed that Echo is often the one to mention his brothers by name, and make sure they're remembered. And of course his entire thing about saving his brothers and leaving no one behind. (Also that he turned the call signs into this like nickname/inside joke thing with Omega is so adorable to me ahh)

--

And then there's whatever this is:

Not even a reaction to the name (and we know they are good at implying expression under those helmets)! I know this is old news but it bears saying lol. They had the perfect opportunity here to not only address Echo's loss, but also to honor Fives and the sacrifice he made to discover the chips. A sacrifice which saved Ahsoka, Rex, and now the Bad Batch. This is obviously not the first time Echo and Rex talked about Fives, he knows he's dead (I firmly believe he would not have left the 501st if Fives was still alive), but come on! This did the bare minimum to check the box of 'mention Fives.' How about you cut Wrecker getting attacked by a sarlacc or whatever and give that screen time to show us an actual conversation?

Like I found this bit in an interview:

While the conversation obviously never happened onscreen, Corbett says that doesn't mean it never happened, suggesting the two talked offscreen, saying "For Fives, I imagine that Rex and Echo had that conversation after he was rescued off of Skako Minor, and I know in Season 1 we did have Rex reference Fives on Bracca," adding "So, in my headcanon, they've had many conversations about Fives."

And I'm just like... Jennifer! You don't have to have headcanons, you are literally the writer! Show us!!

(Also he should have gotten his handprint again no I will never let this go)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I CAN'T CLOSE MY EYES ALONE ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; arguing with satoru is always exhausting. bitter and spiteful, you leave him in the bedroom and go find another place to sleep; your couch would be the obvious choice, but where’s the fun in that?

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, f!reader (he calls you ’stubborn girl’ n ’pretty girl’ but other than that it’s gn!!), toru and reader have a fight, reader sleeps in the bathtub (don’t ask it came to me in a vision), hurt/comfort, he's doing his best :<, fluff!!

a/n; smth abt …. arguing w satoru gojo ……. idk why the concept has possessed me in the way that it has i just think hurt/comfort w toru is <33

okay, so maybe this wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

in your defense, you weren’t exactly thinking straight; fueled by spite, eager to get far away, and admittedly a little curious as to how it would feel, the decision was made almost purely on impulse. and stupidity, probably.

it’s not comfortable at all.

maybe it could be. maybe if you had just a couple more pillows, a fluffier blanket with a cozier texture. maybe if you had something soft to put beneath you, another blanket or a comforter or — whatever. maybe if you had a warm cup of tea to drink. maybe if you had something warm to hug to sleep. 

or someone.

(aw, what’s wrong? can’t sleep without me after all, huh?)

— nope. you are not going back there. 

just the thought of how smug he’d get makes you bite the inside of your cheek, increasing your already growing frustrations. in desperate search of a more comfortable position, you nuzzle further into the pillow, but nothing works.

your limbs feel stiff, and your bones can’t seem to relax, a discomforting numbness seeping into your spine. and it’s cold. the feeling of porcelain against your skin keeps you tossing and turning, akin to an icy winter breeze, caressing the apple of your cheek. 

still, there’s simply no other option. under absolutely no circumstances can you turn back now. not when you’ve come this far, when you can almost begin to sense an inkling of sleep’s familiar call, the drowsy flutter of your eyelashes.

it takes time, and perseverance — but eventually, the road to sleep does seem to brighten on the horizon. crawling closer and closer, lulling you into its embrace, while all you can do is lie there. completely at its mercy, exhaustion ghosting your subconscious, eyelids ripe with fatigue. 

slowly but surely, your consciousness begins to fade. tenderly, soothingly, like a curtain over your eyes being slowly unveiled. you can almost taste it, on the tip of your tongue; sleep is only a moment away.

soon, you’ll fall into that cozy abyss. and then you’ll open your eyes, and the morning sun will greet you. it’ll be a new day, a better day.

so you keep your eyes closed, and sink a little further into the plush of your pillow, and —

the light flickers on.

in the state you’re in, tiptoeing on the edge between dreams and reality, so tantalizingly close to falling asleep, the brightness is positively grating. even through your shut eyes, it invades your senses — a glow so irritating it’s startling. the bathroom lights mock you with their shine, illuminating your figure, curled up in the tiny bathtub. 

the whine you let out is involuntary, coaxed out from deep within your throat, as the uncomfortable sensation rouses you from your would-be slumber.

satoru raises an unimpressed eyebrow, where he stands by the door.

chest bare, wearing only a flimsy pair of sleeping shorts, he looks at you with tired eyes. exasperation painted onto his dishevelled features. then he clicks his tongue, voice raspy and rich with fatigue.

”you’re ridiculous.”

the judgemental tilt of his voice only makes the annoyance in your veins bubble up once more, just when it was finally about to dwindle. eyes squeezed shut to escape the burn of the artificial light, you let out a sharp wince, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow. 

”turn it off!”

ignoring your angry plea, satoru makes his way over to you. with long, slow strides, vaguely uncoordinated steps. just a little clumsy. he plops down on the edge of the bathtub, and gazes down at you.

you’re lying on your side, arms wrapped around a fluffy cushion, knees against your chest. under the illumination of the bathroom lights, he can see you clearly; messy hair that he yearns to ruffle, a crease between your brows that he yearns to smooth away.

you look awfully uncomfortable, to no one’s surprise. he isn’t sure what else you were expecting. 

despite the sting of the bright lights, you force your eyes open — only to give satoru a halfhearted glare, an attempt at appearing intimidating. though you somehow doubt it’ll work.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, satoru tilts his head. soft locks of white hair follow the movement, falling over his eyes, a little more tousled than usual. like he’s been tossing and turning, sprawled out on the bedroom mattress.

and, just like you suspected, the dirty look you send his way doesn’t seem to scare him off. not even in the slightest. if anything, you think you catch a flicker of lazy amusement dancing through his eyes. and it irks you, it does — an itch beneath your skin, a taste of irritation on your tongue.

because satoru is looking at you like you’re somehow in the wrong, here, like you’re the one acting out. as if he isn’t the reason you’re here in the first place.

at this point, you barely even remember what the fight was about. too sleep-deprived to recall it properly, too stressed to make a genuine attempt. all you remember is getting ready for bed, and the familiar sensation of frustration prickling your skin. you remember his pretty little grin, his teasing remarks and refusal to take you seriously.

remember the way he laughed, when you told him what was bothering you; the crinkle of his eyes, the warmth of his hands reaching over to squish your cheeks. a little patronizing.

(there was no malicious intent behind it, that much you know. he probably just wanted to lighten the mood. but it irked you, all the same. hurt you, maybe. just a little bit.)

then you remember storming out. grabbing a blanket and pillow and telling him to sleep on his own, if that’s how he was going to be. the words felt cold as they left your mouth, little breathy icicles. and then you left.

which is why you’re here, right now. curled up in your goddamn bathtub, for some reason that still escapes you, trying desperately to get even a wink of sleep without your boyfriend there to help.

and that’s also why satoru is here, back a tad slouched as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, looking at you like you’re some misbehaving cat. blinking slowly, drowsily, dragged down by the fatigue clinging to his eyelashes. 

(he can’t sleep, either.)

”you’re really gonna sleep in there?” he sighs, after a moment’s pause. any honest concern in his voice is almost entirely overshadowed by the sense of admonition that follows it.

a scoff falls from your lips, sharp like a razorblade. ”yes,” you deadpan, shifting to lie on your stomach, hiding away from his insistent view. ”i was sleeping just fine before you barged in here.”

satoru shoots you a look, thoroughly unimpressed, entirely unconvinced of your blatant lie. ”you’re being dumb,” he huffs. ”at least sleep on the couch.”

”i don’t wanna hear that from you,” comes a hiss, low and disgruntled. a growing irritation. ”and i’m comfortable where i am.”

another dissatisfied huff. why are you being so irrational? he just doesn’t get it. scrambling for excuses, satoru tries his hand at another tactic. 

”you’ll hurt your back.”

another little scoff. oh, so now he suddenly cares? you can’t believe him. 

”so what?”

a moment passes. satoru bites his lip, teeth sinking softly into the flesh; a little pang of ache, but it’s nothing compared to the twist of discomfort in his chest. you’re making this more difficult than it has to be, he thinks. always so stubborn. 

what is he supposed to say? how is he supposed to convince you to come back to bed, when you’re already so set on denying him?

god, he’s tired. he just wants to sleep, close his jaded eyes. just wants to not have to think, for a couple hours, curled up with the only person who makes him feel safe. just wants to dream in soft shapes.

but if you aren’t there, then…

a deep sigh. weary, annoyed. ”c’mon,” he coaxes, blinking sluggishly. ”you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without me. can’t we just make up already?”

your nails dig into the fabric of your blanket. every word he says only seems to deepen the sense of irritation plaguing your sleep-deprived mind.

it makes you want to shut him out, bury your head in the soft sheets and forget about everything else. he keeps acting like you’re just overreacting, like you wanted to have an argument. like he wasn’t the one who made you upset and then laughed at you about it. 

”i don’t need you to fall asleep,” you grumble, muffled by the pillow in your grasp, arms tightening around it. nuzzling deeper into the soft velvet comfort.

satoru’s fingers twitch, as if urging him to pull you close. he almost glares at the cushion in your arms, that you’re hugging so fondly, putting all your body weight on — snuggling into it in search of comfort and warmth.

(that should be his chest.)

the gears in his head turn, slowly and mechanically, as he brings a hand up to card through his hair.

satoru hates seeing you so upset, so far away from him. having to watch you close yourself off, not allowing him to be near, soothe you and take care of you. kiss all your worries away. that’s all he wants to do, everything he needs to keep himself whole, to keep himself from being devoured by an exhaustion he’s lived with for as long as he can remember.

a strong frustration gnaws at his conscience. a certain desperation.

a big, heavy sigh leaves his lips. it bounces off the walls of the bathroom, the white tiles and shiny mirror, as he drags it out. almost childishly. then he’s angling his body to face you properly, big hands resting on his knees, a determined gaze set on your figure.

”look, i’m sorry,” he starts, rigid and earnest. blinking once, twice, chasing away the drowsy weight of his eyelids. ”i shouldn’t have laughed.”

your ears perk up.

shifting to your side as if hoping to hear him better, you peek up at him through half-lidded eyes. almost in disbelief, a kind of hope sprouting in the corners of your dilated pupils.

is he genuinely going to apologize, you wonder? admit that he was in the wrong? does he actually feel bad?

a moment passes. slow, drawn out, until satoru’s voice spills into the air again.

”there. i apologized,” he exhales, a little gruff. annoyed. ”now will you please just come to bed?”

…

wow. 

okay, nevermind. you hope the ceiling fan falls on him.

beneath your skin, a mellow kind of anger bubbles up, blood slowly coming to a boiling point. he’s not sorry at all. of course he isn’t. you were stupid to think he’d actually give you a sincere apology, stupid to think he’d do the one thing that would actually make you want to fall back into his comforting embrace. stupid, stupid. 

clenching your teeth, nails digging into the velvet fabric of the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut once more. only this time, you don’t plan on opening them again — at least not until morning comes. not until you see the sunkissed tiles of the bathroom, until the ache inside your chest has passed.

”satoru,” you enunciate, frigid and final. ”just let me sleep. we can talk tomorrow.” a beat. the tiniest grumble resounds from your lips, tinged with exhaustion. ”i’m too tired for this.”

under his breath, satoru winces. that palpable fatigue in your words sends a tremor running through his chest, discomforting, a shiver of his heart. you won’t look at him anymore, and the hint of finality in your tone makes him feel slightly dejected.

god, he’s awful at this. sincerity has never been his strong suit. he’s gotten better, lately, but it’s still so very foreign.

he didn’t mean to make you angry, didn’t mean to upset you. didn’t mean for the lilt of his voice to make his apology sound insincere. but that’s still what happened.

and satoru isn’t quite sure what to do. 

he’s tired. eyes heavy with lost sleep, glimpses of would-be nightmares he knows he’d have were he to fall asleep right now. an anxious lump has long since formed in the back of his throat, and he misses you. misses your presence, your warmth. misses the feeling of having you close, the knowledge that you haven’t left yet.

(without you, he can’t —)

a sigh. soft, and resigned, flowing from his lips.

the inner turmoil in satoru’s mind begins to fade, slowly but surely, smoothed away by the sight of you. bundled up in a blanket too small to cover you properly, lying in that cold and cramped bathtub, discomfort evident in your features. sadness dripping from the bitter words you grace him with.

so out of reach, too far for him to follow, a boundary he wants to cross more than anything. but something about that meek expression makes him falter, makes his heart twist and turn inside his ribcage.

(he knows that you’re tired, too.)

so satoru swallows his pride.

the words are spoken in a whisper, hushed, through a voice so low you wouldn’t hear it if the silence of the bathroom wasn’t so suffocating. a soft lilt of his voice, bare and raw. meek, in a way that makes him want to crawl under a rock and die. but it’s there, and he lets you hear it; that soft little truth.

”… i can’t sleep without you.”

satoru doesn’t look at you. his confession rings in your ears, laced together with a softness you’ve come to associate with warm spring mornings and rooms so dark you can’t see his face. moments in which satoru feels safe. safe enough to be sincere.

— inevitably, your heart begins to soften.

(he’s trying. it’s difficult for him, but he’s really trying. sincerity and honesty are things that have been used against him all his life, so it’s no wonder he’d be scared.)

it’s very hard to stay mad at him, when he sounds like that. when his words come out sounding a little too much like a plea, a silent call for help. 

with hesitance, you allow your eyes to flutter open, shifting a little to get a better look at him. he’s there, staring into space — the man you’ve grown to love so dearly. his tousled white hair, those slightly forlorn eyes. the vague darkness beneath them, slightly puffy skin. that tired, tired expression. 

satoru taps the edge of the tub with the pads of his fingers, absentmindedly. index finger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over.

then, at last, he meets your gaze. and you think he swallows down a gulp, before smiling — it’s a pretty smile, somewhat tiny. a little sheepish, but awfully sincere. awfully satoru.

he tilts his head, gazing into your eyes with a tenderness that melts your heart to the marrow.

”… please?”

a second passes. then two. 

soft and melodic, your heartbeat resounds in your ears, akin to a lullaby. like the call of a siren, coaxing you into giving in. and you’re weak, you realize, so very weak. just a smile and a tilt of his head, and you’re rendered utterly helpless. 

(he’s just too pretty.)

without fully realizing it yourself, you’ve begun to move, dragging yourself up with sluggish motions. blanket still draped over your shoulders, and pillow snug against your chest, you blink. drowsily, slowly. a little meekly. 

and satoru brightens.

it’s visible, in the way he physically perks up, back straightening, smile finally reaching his aquamarine eyes. a blend between hope and affection sprouts in them, slathered over with something honeyed.

a soft grin blooms on his lips, and he opens his arms wide — silently beckoning you to fall into his embrace. a raspy coo tiptoes on his tongue. 

”c’mere.”

before you can make a move to do so, satoru leans over. scooping you up with ease, as if you weigh absolutely nothing, tucking you into his warm embrace. smothering you in his cushiony chest.

almost instinctively, your arms go to wrap around his neck, cheek smushed against the warm skin of his shoulder. if you strain your ears, you think you can hear the soft patter of his heartbeat. he smells of the tiramisu you ate before going to bed, and just a hint of expensive cologne. he smells of comfort.

satoru is soft, and warm, and everything you need right now. lulling you back into that cozy, sleepy state. your very own personal dose of melanin.

with a big palm on the small of your back, satoru keeps you pressed up against his chest, as if you could change your mind and try to escape at any moment. he stands up, still holding you, and hikes your legs around his waist. breathing out a satisfied hum, before turning on his heel.

satoru smiles, and presses a kiss to the crown of your head. ”let’s get you back to bed, baby.”

after turning the bathroom lights off, he begins to walk to your shared bedroom, still carrying you with one arm. always so strong and reliable. you know for a fact that he’s not going to drop you, so you opt to close your tired eyes; stretching out your limbs, lazily, releasing a quiet yawn that makes his lips curl up.

despite your lingering frustration, you find yourself nuzzling into the crook of his neck — and satoru coos, so painfully soft that you barely even hear it. the restlessness inside his own chest washed away, by the familairity of your body against his.

and before you know it, he’s dropped you down on the mattress. gently, but still enough to make you feel a little jostled, so close to falling asleep in his arms. he drags the blanket up to cover you, tucking you in; this one is bigger, with a fluffier texture, enough to cover you both with ease.

smiling softly at the sight of you all cozy, content in the knowledge that you’re finally comfortable, satoru crawls beneath the blanket and takes his rightful place beside you. eyes crinkled at the corners, rich with affection.

two strong arms reach around your waist, to pull you flush against him, until your head meets his chest and you can hear the soft thrumming of his heartstrings. then he sighs, in pure bliss, thoroughly content. melting into your embrace, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling into the warmth that seeps from your body to his.

he runs his big hands down your back, affectionately, rubbing circles into your skin. coaxing you into melting a little, too.

”see, isn’t this much better?” he smiles, a little cheeky. such a tease.

”… the bathtub was fine.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, rich with fondness. his hand goes to card through your hair, nimble fingers smoothing down your scalp and running through the soft strands. every touch gentle, full of care. every word soaked in a syrupy sweetness.

”stubborn girl.”

despite your best wishes, you’re too tired to bite back the blissful sigh that leaves your lips. a part of you still wants to protest, to push him away —

but then you start leaning into his touch. helpless to his warm hands, his soothing voice. satoru is just a little too good at making you melt. so good that you finally begin to let your guard down, nuzzling into his bare skin, sinking a little further into the mattress. 

and satoru stifles a coo. 

”honestly,” he sighs, equal parts exasperated and amused. ”sleeping in the bathtub… you’re so silly.”

before you have a chance to respond, he’s pulling back — ever so slightly, just to get a better look at your face. arms looped around his neck, you blink up at him with droopy eyes, and he can’t resist the dopey grin that sneaks its way onto his lips. doesn’t even begin to try, when you look so unbearably sweet.

unable to stop himself, he broaches the distance between you, leaning close to kiss the top of your nose. and you squeeze your eyes shut at the gesture, face scrunching up, but it only makes him chuckle. smiling, honey-sweet, he admires your sleepy pout. soaks up every soft little grumble that slips from your lips.

his hand comes to cradle your cheek, thumb smoothing down your cheekbone. just gazing at you, taking you in, every single contour of your face. there is only adoration in his eyes. something silently delighted, that seeps into his words, his raspy voice.

”my pretty, pretty girl.”

a heat rushes to your cheeks. looking up at him, into those lovesick eyes, you can’t help but grow flustered.

he looks so content.

all you manage is a weak furrow of your brows, pressing a palm against his bare skin. softly, as if pushing him away, forehead meeting his chest with a soft bonk. hiding away, so he won’t see how much his words affect you.

”lemme sleep, toru…” you mumble, stifling a yawn.

unfortunately, your boyfriend is not one to give in so easily. before long, his fingertips are trailing across the skin of your jaw, coaxing you into lifting your chin. and you’re too sleepy to resist — practically melting, as he begins to smear openmouthed kisses all over your face. all you can do is close your eyes, attempting to ignore the sound of his exaggerated mwahs, frowning in a silent disapproval that you know you don’t actually mean.

satoru notices it, though. he always does.

”you still mad at me, baby?” he asks, in a way that sounds a little like he’s cooing at you. there’s a teasing tilt to his voice, but it’s also a genuine question. your frown deepens.

averting your gaze with a soft huff, even as he cradles your jaw with his slender fingers, a pout plays at your lips. under his kind eyes, you feel just a bit meek — recalling your argument from before. absentmindedly, you fidget with the waistband of his shorts, hoping to ease your nerves.

despite your valiant efforts to direct your vocal cords in a different direction, the voice that spills from your lips comes out sounding just a tad hurt.

”… you never take me seriously.”

satoru’s eyes soften.

his smile falters, by a hair, a brief stilling of movement. subtle, but hard not to pick up on. there’s a certain sense of shame in his irises, a genuine guilt stirring his heartstrings; several discomforting sensations, gnawing at the bones of his ribcage.

(you look so small.)

two hands reach out to cup your cheeks, big and warm. swallowing up your whole face. and before you can react, satoru leans in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your lips. he tastes like tiramisu. 

”’m sorry. we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he hums, and you can tell that he means it. ”i promise that i’ll take you seriously. for real, this time.”

as you look into those eyes of his, blue and soft around the edges, the last of your frustration is finally washed away. with a meek downward glance, and a faint nod, satoru relaxes — releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. relieved at your silent forgiveness.

tomorrow, he’ll definitely make it up to you. he’ll hear you out, without opening his big mouth, or trying to skirt around any emotions that make him feel even slightly uncomfortable. smoothing a big palm down your back, he hopes you feel it as a silent apology. 

for now, he’ll just hold you. he’ll hold you, and kiss all your worries away, and keep you comfy and warm. that’s his duty. the only one he’d willingly choose, the only weight on his shoulders that never feels even a little bit suffocating. the only one he wouldn’t cast away, if given the chance.

nuzzling back into the safety of his collarbone, your heartbeat settles into a drowsy rhythm, slow and serene. satoru squeezes you in a tight hug, reassuring. comforting.

he can be a handful, and a little insensitive, but you love him a lot. you can’t imagine not loving him. 

”… goodnight, toru,” you whisper. ready to give into sleep’s call, at last.

satoru smiles. you can hear it in his voice, sweet and silky, a soft curl of his lips. ”goodnight, honey,” he presses a kiss against your shoulder. warm, his breath on your skin. ”i love you.”

a yawn escapes your throat. ”love you too…” you mumble, sleepily. that one soft truth, before your consciousness fades.

and satoru’s smile only grows. hopelessly, inevitably, in the same way his hands can’t help but to bring you closer. until your heart is flush against his own, and he swears he can feel your heartbeats synchronize.

finally, with those three little words, satoru should be able to go to sleep. drifting off, he can only hope you’ll still be in his arms by the time he awakens.

(then again; you always are, aren’t you?)

[redbean-nom]

Cadets

(aka trash children, chaos children, and children who understand 98 is getting graded on this)

Inspired by @thefoundationproject! Closeups under the cut:

jesse got this pic from jangotat:

[owlsie-hoot]

"Mrs Hall and I spoilt him rotten, ruined him entirely. Sorry about that." (05x01 To All Our Boys)