#i don’t want to hear anything about ‘why are you getting high while you’re sick’ look it can’t make me worse

[fingertipsmp3]

My grandparents showed up half an hour after I took an edible and I’m just gonna say now, I have never known fear like that

[reverie-starlight]

I miss knb and I wanted to write something for aomine :’) I’ve never written for him and it’s been a while since I’ve watched the show, so forgive me if you feel that his characterization is a bit off. hello from late january cause that’s when I’m queuing this 👋🏻

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. lots and lots and lots of fluffy pet names bc that’s the focus of the drabble. he calls you shnookums once just to annoy you bc he’s a little shit. that’s a warning in itself tbh. mentions of alcohol/drunk character. characters written as adults, not high schoolers.

aomine has specific nicknames for you depending on the situation you find yourselves in.

he reserves “babe” or some shortened variation of your name for when you’re in public.

it’s quick, it’s casual, and it doesn’t get him a lecture on why it’s not funny to very loudly address you as “shnookums” when you get separated at the grocery store.

(though in his defence, he thought it worked wonders. you were back at his side within seconds after straying too far on accident with a half embarrassed, half pissed off look on your face. he thought it was hilarious.)

~~~

he calls you “baby” when he greets you after a long day at work. when he’s picking you up from your classes. normally only in your presence, because he doesn’t need the teasing remarks about how soft he’s become from his teammates.

not that he really cares at the end of the day- he’ll call you what he wants to call you (provided you also like it, of course) but there’s something less casual about it that makes him want to keep it just for you.

that “something” being the time you got drunk and offhandedly mentioned loving the way it sounds in his voice. he now gets to enjoy the small, barely noticeable uptick of your lips whenever he opts for it. no one else gets to see that.

he’ll help you with your coat and press a kiss to your hairline, murmuring a soft “hey baby, missed you today”.

it’s probably the most common of the names he uses on you out of all the available options.

~~~

he saves the saccharine pet names for when he knows you’re not feeling your best. whether you’re mentally drained, physically exhausted or sick to any degree, there’s never not a time when hearing him be sickeningly sweet with you doesn’t ease the pain.

“need anything else, sweetheart?”

“how are you feeling, gorgeous?”

“yeah, we can cuddle, doll, c’mere.”

these are also the times he plays up the compliments (more than usual).

“even when you’re sick, you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. don’t let it get to your head, though. or do- I know how to deal with that just fine, too.”

~~~

he doesn’t have one set nickname for you when you visit him at practice, but when you watch him play in an official game?

as long as you’ve known him, he’s never believed in luck- he got himself to where he is with his skills, luck had nothing to do with it.

so it surprises you the first time he refers to you as his good luck charm. it’s not said in some grand gesture, not brought up in those fluff promotional interviews when reporters ask him if he has one.

it’s whispered quietly into your ear before he jogs onto the court.

a murmured thank you against your lips as soon as he’s running off again, high on a win, straight to you.

you ask him about it one day and he just shrugs. “everything is different now. I play better when I know you’re watching, it’s energizing in a way I’ve never felt before. you’re right, I still don’t believe in luck, but somehow I was able to find you. and I don’t know if I would call that luck, either, but until I find a better way to explain it you’re just gonna have to put up with that title a bit longer.”

so you do, without complaints, because it’s cute trying to watch him convey his feelings honestly and still in a very aomine way.

~~~

your absolute favourite nickname that he’s given you, though? angel.

you’re his angel.

the title is first appointed when you pick him up one night from a bar after celebrating with his team. his usually brooding expression visibly lights up when he sees you and he makes his way over. it’s been a while since he’s been this drunk, so it makes you laugh when he stumbles over and throws an arm around your shoulders.

“what a sweetheart, you really came to pick me up?”

you scoff and try to get him into the car, waving at his teammates who were staying with him until you got there. “what, baby, you thought I wouldn’t?”

he shrugs with an absentminded grin. “it’s just nice to have a… battle angel or whatever that term is. I dunno what it is.”

you can’t help but laugh. “you mean a guardian angel?”

“same thing, you knew what I meant!” his words are slurred and he’s now leaning his entire body weight against you.

“oh you are so wasted, daiki, let’s get you home.”

and it’s whispered again at home as he’s falling asleep, “my angel… thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

your heart squeezes.

now it’s reserved for only the most intimate of moments with him- he doesn’t want to overuse the name and risk it losing its meaning.

because it does hold a deeper, unspoken meaning between the two of you.

after a long time apart because of his away games? after he wins an important match? loses a match and he’s thankful you’re there with him? you get a promotion at work? you pass a difficult class with flying colours? all situations where he’d call you angel.

he has a full arsenal of names for you, clearly, and you love every single one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this feels a bit messy. even after editing, I feel like the quality went down a bit, so we’ll see if I end up posting it. but I love him a lot and I’ve been rewatching knb, so I needed to do something for him to keep the brainrot at bay.

tagging: @dira333

[wosoragebaiter69]

a bit hot

barça fem x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: yesterday i was in shambles trying to write this.. i keep getting sickness i write about 💀food poisoning next 😃

TW: Vomit, passing out, illness

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It all started with a small headache, it was one you could tolerate, probably just a bit of exhaustion and would go away once drinking water. The thing was though, it didn’t go away.

It was hot in Barcelona, 37° C hot. Water intake for everyone was high, and you were being made to drink extra water by not only the physios, but also your Captains.

Honestly, you thought everyone was feeling like this if you’d been drinking the most and still feeling headachy. You persevere though determined to not let a bit of pain decide how the training goes.

But when ignored, problems only get worse.

It only takes half an hour for your overall health to decline, and obviously people notice. How couldn’t they when it looked like you couldn’t even think straight.

Which is true. You don’t recognise what’s happening until Alexia is pulling you away and inside the air-conditioned room.

“Dios Mío. What are we going to do with you.” Is the first thing she says, putting you in the direct line of 18° coolness blasting. It isn’t enough though.

You feel yourself growing tired, your head dropping every few seconds.

“Hey, hey. Stay awake for me yeah?” Your captain asks you. The only thing you are capable of doing is groaning before ultimately passing out, falling into her chest.

- - - - -

When you wake up again, you’re in a different room. A fan blowing on you and a UV line dripping into your skin. Alexia is also there, who has been joined by Marta and Mapi.

You feel sick to your stomach, shutting your eyes in hopes of holding anything inside back. Conceal don’t feel right? That’s what Elsa says.

You hear footsteps cautiously approach, you don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s Alexia.

“Nena?” She whispers quietly, placing her hand on your still slightly warm skin. You shake your head, trying to suppress any indicators that you were about to throw up. She knows better, Mapi knows better, Marta knows better.

The other captain throws Alexia a puke bag who holds it in front of your mouth.

“Come on, I know you don’t want to but please. You’ll feel better.” You give into her and into yourself. Retching into the bag, making all the girls in the room cringe at the sound.

Once you’ve pulled yourself together, Alexia closes the bag and disposes it in a bin in the corner.

“Are you going to throw up again soon or no?” She asks, sparing a glance at the other two.

“I should be fine, thanks Ale.” Your voice is hoarse and slightly cracks.

“Ok, good.” She leans against the table you’re on thinking about what to say next. Marta beats her to it.

“Why didn’t you speak up about how ill you were? We would’ve brought you in sooner.” You sigh.

“Well I thought we were all going through that! I had been drinking more water than you guys yet I’m still the one who is plugged into a machine?”

“You have to promise to tell us next time ok?” Alexia asks, you nod.

“Bebita, I have Ingrid ready in the car when you feel well enough. The doctor said you could take the UV out when you wake up” You smile at the thought of getting into your bed at home.

“Ok, thanks Mapi.” She pats your leg smiling.

“We’ll talk about this another day ok? Go home, get rest. You are not going to be training in conditions like these over the next few days. Some investigators are looking into why this has happened so they might want to talk to you at some point.” She finishes curiously.

“Well, sounds fun. I wanna go home now.” Mapi nods, helping you stay up and walking toward the car where Ingrid is already situated.

- - - - -

When you get home you’re exhausted, hungry and sweaty.

“Come on elskling, I’ll run you a bath while Mapi gets you some light food. Then you can sleep for however long you need. Is that ok?” Ingrid says, pushing you inside.

“Mkay, thanks Ingrid.” She kisses your temple placing the training bags she was holding in her room before going to the bathroom to start a cool bath.

“I won’t make you anything warm, do you want a salad?” A salad does sound good, and refreshing.

“Sounds good.” She leads you to the bench, the cool countertop doing wonders against your warm skin.

She gets the salad ready rather fast, it’s not that big, but definitely enough that you won’t go to sleep uncomfortable.

Soon after eating your food, Ingrid comes back.

“Bath is ready when you are.”

You nod, legs still shaky so the couple helps you to the bathroom sitting you down.

“You’ll be ok?” Ingrid asks feeling your forehead, still cringing slightly.

“Yeah, I will. Thank you both… this means so much to me.”

“Don’t worry bebita, it’s the least we can do.” Mapi says smiling.

They both take your silence as a que to leave the room so they do. The bath relaxes you, and takes away most of the uncomfortable feelings inside.

When you’re done, you change into shorts and an old shirt, walking out slowly to the living room where Ingrid is reading a book and Mapi is playing with Bagheera.

Ingrid notices you first.

“Do you want medicine? Then you can sleep.”

“Yes please.” She gets up, going to medical cabinet pulling two paracetamol out and handing them to you with a glass of water.

“Drink.” You do as told and you finally let the exhaustion of the day come up to you. Before you realise what’s happening, Mapi has lifted you up and is taking you to your room.

“If you need anything, we’ll be here. Promise.” She whispers, putting you to bed. You smile up at her before falling into a peaceful slumber.

—————————————————

thanks for all the love and support guys, i hope that i can post the other fic tonight so you get 2 in one day 😘

[the-oblivious-writer]

Touch Tank

Tara Carpenter x Reader

One-shot

Summary: Tensions are high when you go over to the Carpenters' apartment after telling Tara you would fix their sink; Sam isn't exactly what you would call your 'biggest fan'

Warning(s): Swearing, Tara & R aren't together, & no pronouns used

Notes: Another work based off of Gilmore Girls! Currently re-watching it and I'm slowly inching towards s3 ep 19... I'm avoiding it like the plague (I wanna stay in literali bliss just a lil longer 😔)

4/7 for Seven Days of Christmas

You made the mistake of agreeing to fix Tara’s sink.

Somehow Tara roped you into agreeing. Plumbers were expensive, and with paying rent in New York while also paying for college, they were already on a tight budget. You offered them a cheaper price, and you honestly didn’t mind giving Tara a favor.

That was before you remembered Sam would be there too.

You have known Tara all of five months, and in that time you haven’t exactly left the best impression on her older sister. Sam has already caught you sneaking in ten times—you got lucky every other time—and it didn’t help that you had an attitude. 

Tara wanted nothing more than for Sam to get to know you—to not just go off the you she made up in her head. So, when Sam found out you would be coming to fix their kitchen sink… she figured it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to give you another shot. Besides, she was doing this for Tara. She wasn’t sure as to why Tara was so persistent on it, but all she knows is that Tara wants you and her to get along. 

—

You walk up the stairs to the shared apartment after getting buzzed in by Tara. Once you get to the door you knock and the door opens.

“Hey,” Tara greets.

“Hey back,” you reply. Tara moves to the side, letting you in. Once you’re inside you look at Tara once again before smiling to yourself.

“You’re very punctual,” she remarked—watching as your eyes wandered.

“Yeah, well, it was either this or more apartment hunting with Danny.”

“You’re moving?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Don’t really get the point—the apartment’s fine. He says there’s ‘interior damage’ or whatever. Nothing I can’t fix.”

“Who knows; a new place could be nice.”

“I guess. He’s kinda eyeing the vacant apartment that’s not too far from yours.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… not saying it’s a sure thing but if we do move, can you promise you won’t get sick of me?”

“Sick of that face? Never…” She gently pinched your cheek teasingly; heat rushed to your face. 

“Did you change your hair?” You asked suddenly, changing the subject.

“What?”

“Your hair looks…different.”

“So segway’s not your thing, huh?” 

“Is it?” 

“Uh, no. I wear it like this a lot. Why?”

“Just…” You shrug, “Different.”

“Oh. Bad ���different’?” She tugged on the hem of her shirt, suddenly feeling nervous for some reason. 

You smirk, about to answer her question, but turn your head when you hear a noise coming from down the hall. It sounded like Sam yelling a curse before Tara looked back at you with a light chuckle.

“The sink hasn’t been putting her in the best mood,” she elaborates. 

“She’s usually in a good mood?” You quip with raised eyebrows, tone laced in sarcasm. Tara scolds you with a look, causing you to back down. “Alright, alright.” 

“This fucking sink is driving me insane–” Sam cuts herself off, stopping in her tracks when she sees you. 

“Oh. Y/N. You’re here,” she says and you simply nod at her words. “Refreshing to see you use the front door for once…” She murmurs but you and Tara hear it. Tara scolds her with the same look she gave you just moments before. 

“If you want there’s Dr. Pepper in the kitchen,” Sam reluctantly offered. You looked at Tara then at Sam before briefly nodding. 

After a few seconds of silence, Sam clears her throat. “Okay, well, everything’s in the kitchen if you want to get started. The toolbox, and gloves are all there. If you need anything else just call one of us.” 

Tara looks between you and Sam before speaking up, “Come on, I’ll show you.” She extends her hand, gesturing to the direction of the kitchen. You begin to walk in that direction but before Tara follows behind, she gives Sam a look.

“I’m trying,” Sam huffed. 

“Well keep it up pleasee,” Tara requested as she walked away to the kitchen. 

By the time she was there, you were already setting up. “Question,” She states.

“Yes?” You put the pair of gloves in your back pocket, looking over at Tara.

“You come over. You seem to have a very firm grasp of the English language. You put together several full sentences—even using a couple of words that contain two or more syllables. And then my sister appears, and suddenly we need a thought bubble over your head to understand what you’re thinking. Can you tell me why that is?”

You looked down at the four-way silicone key in your hand before looking at Tara again with a  response. “The verbal thing comes and goes.” 

Tara sighed, lightly rolling her eyes. “I would really appreciate it if you would try to get along with my sister.”

“I took the Dr. Pepper,” you stated as a matter of factly. 

She furrowed her eyebrows, “I know.”

“Personally, I think it’s a little crazy to put lemon in Dr. Pepper—buuuut I took it anyhow.” You reached for the bucket and rag as you heard Tara huff.

“Stop it.”

“Ooo, stern face,” you say as you lift the tool and bucket to place by the sink. Tara continues, following you as you crouched down by the sink.

“Look. I went out on a limb for you, trying to get my sister to give you the benefit of the doubt. Okay? So, I don’t think it would hurt you to try to be nice.”

You put down the wrench you had just picked up, now fully turned and standing to look at Tara as you spoke. “Why?” You simply asked, taking off your jacket.

“Why?” Tara mirrored.

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Because she’s my sister—and she and Danny are dating.”

“So?” You tossed your jacket on top of a nearby chair.

“What do you mean ‘so’?” She asked incredulously; her eyebrows stayed furrowed.

“So, just because she’s your sister or Danny’s girlfriend doesn’t mean that I automatically have to get along with her,” you stated with pure conviction, rolling up your sleeves. 

“Y/N, my sister is a great person. She’s also my best friend—so if you care about me at all you will take that into consideration,” Tara was now crossing her arms as she stood her ground. “And you will be mildly polite to her.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, looking her up and down before responding. “What makes you think I care about you?” Tara didn’t need eyes to know you were smirking and enjoying this way too much.

She blushes, looking down at the ground and shaking her head as she grows flustered. “I–I don’t mean care-care. Like—care. I mean if you like me at all—not like-like! I just meant that–” Tara stumbles over her words, tucking in a loose strand of hair behind her ear. You watch her with amusement, a soft smile grazing your face as you let out a light snort.

“If you think of me remotely as the sort of person you could occasionally stand to talk to then you will try to get along with my sister. That’s all.” 

Your eyes never pulled from her once, only looking at her with fondness as you finally said something. “Okay,” you nod.

“Okay?”

“Can’t guarantee that it’ll work but I’ll try,” you confirm. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…” You glance at the sink then back at Tara. “Should probably get to work.”

“Right. Sorry—go ahead.” She turns to walk away, looking at you one more time before leaving the kitchen. You crouch down by the sink again, not meeting her gaze but feeling it. She doesn’t see how you grin to yourself; your mind being plagued with thoughts of the younger Carpenter.

Guess it wouldn’t hurt to make an effort. 

—

Later that night, you decided to stop by Tara’s window for a surprise visit. You looked at her for a few seconds—admiring how peaceful she looked—before lightly tapping on her window. She turned to look at the window, a grin grazing her face when her eyes meets yours.

She lifted the window with a smile as you looked up at her fondly. “Hey,” you finally said after the window fully opened, expression never faltering as you leaned your head against the window frame.

“Hey back,” she replied. “Didn’t you say something to Sam about not coming through the window anymore.” Tara heard from Sam that you managed to hold somewhat of a conversation with the older Carpenter, actually making an effort to try with her. No matter how awkward it might have been on your end, at least you tried.

“You talk about me with Sam?” You asked smugly.

She rolled her eyes with an infectious smile. “Just get inside.”

“I didn’t hear a no~” You say in a sing-song voice. Tara pulled you in by your sleeve, roughly, might you add. “Watch the shirt,” you complain while you’re pulled inside her room.

“Quirk it.”

“How gentle,” you sarcastically complimented; you dusted your pants off with your free hand, not commenting on how Tara still held a grip on your other arm. 

“So,” Tara began as she sat on her bed—dragging you with her, “What are we watching tonight?”

“I can’t do Freaky Friday again.”

“Fine.”

“How about Cursed?” You inquired. Tara was leaning her back against your chest; she looked up at you with those beautiful brown eyes.

“That movie’s terrible.”

“One-hundred percent, but Milo Ventimiglia is in it.”

“Doesn’t he only have like six minutes of screen time?”

“But in it, nevertheless.”

“You drive a hard bargain… Get the laptop?”

You respond by reaching over to the night stand, grabbing her laptop. You hand it to her and she opens it on her lap. 

Tara would never comment on how she was the only one who got this side of you—the gentle, kind, and considerate side. Well, when she wants to see you squirm she comments on it. But for now, she’ll keep it to it herself.

-----------

A/N: the urge to write a paper on how jess mariano is a truly misunderstood character grows each & each day...

(I got beef with star hallows. we leave it at that.)

[stars4gojo]

Invisible string

Dad!Gojo x Fem!reader // Young Megumi and Tsumiki mentioned at the end // fluff angst if you squint, found family trope // 1k words

(Not proofread pls don’t kill me for any spelling or grammar mistakes)

Megumi is yet again in another fight but refuses to open up about this one leaving you and Gojo confused and worried

One single thread of gold tied me to you

More of my work 🤍

You’re sitting in the teachers lounge at Jujutsu high alongside Shoko, who’s drinking her daily dose of caffeine while you go through your paperwork.

You pay no mind when Gojo flops on the couch next to you whining loudly to grab your attention. 

You ignore it the first time, you let it slide the second but now it’s the third time and you’re slowly losing your patience.

“You’re just really gonna leave me hanging like this?” Gojo asks raising his blindfold from one eye so he can see you clearly. 

You let out a deep sigh as you turn towards him giving him a deadpanned look. 

“I’m busy right now Satoru.” You replied as you went back to finishing up paperwork. 

“Too busy for me? Your strong, beautiful, handsome boyfriend?” Gojo asked and you could almost hear the pout forming on his lips. 

Shoko let out a little chuckle, “You sure he’s good mopping around like that?” She asked in amusement.

“Let him be, he’s probably gonna complain about Megumi again.” You replied as if you were used to his antics.

“Megumi..?” Shoko questioned as she pondered to herself you just shook your head in response with a smile tugging on your lips at your friend’s forgetfulness. 

“Ah! The Zenin child?” Shoko asked as she snapped her fingers and you only hummed in response.

“So Gojo what about the Zenin?” Shoko asked now turning her attention towards your sulky man child. 

“Well I’m glad you asked Shoko, unlike some people here.” Gojo replied, suddenly energetic - putting emphasis on the word some. 

“He has a great technique and potential but he’s just, so ugh what’s the word for it..” Gojo started as he thought about his word choices.

“Satoru if you’re here to complain to us about how you’re getting bullied by a 7 year old we don’t wanna hear about it.” You replied while a little chuckle escaped your mouth.

Gojo squinted his eyes at you as he continued, “Well you wouldn’t know how it feels! Cause as soon as you’re there he’s all rainbows and unicorns and suddenly wants to eat all of his vegetables and wants to brush his teeth on time.” He rolled his eyes.

You got up from your seat making way to the couch, holding his face in your hands.

“I’m sorry Toru.” You said as his eyes lit up. “Is there anything I can help with?” You added.

“You two make me sick” Shoko spoke under her breath as she got up making her way out of the room. 

“Megumi got in a fight again in school and he’s refusing to do any training today.” Gojo said with a sigh.

“He got into another WHAT?” Satoru i told you to contact me when this happens. Did you get called into school? God please help me if you told him to use cursed energy when he gets into fight again because I will NOT be holding back.” You spoke fast, clearly distressed.

“Relax y/n I spoke to the teacher and I did not tell him to tuck his thumb this time or use cursed energy.” He said and you could only sign in relief. 

“It’s just that he…he’s not sharing why he fought in the first place.” Gojo started speaking as his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Well usually, he says that they were bullies but this time his mouth his shut couldn’t even get him to open up during a froyo session.” Gojo added.

“So please just talk to him? You always seem to know what to say and he likes you more anyways.” Gojo asked and your heart melted a little at his sincerity. 

“Ok, I’ll pick him up from school tomorrow and I’ll speak to him. You don’t worry about it you big baby.” You replied as you pinched his cheeks. 

So, this is how you found yourself picking up Megumi from school and he was more than shocked to see you waving at exactly pickup time - Gojo almost always runs late or sends Ijichi to pick him up instead.

“Hi Megumi how was school.” You asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“You’re not at work today?” Megumi asked as he put his eyebrows up in question.

“Well I wanted to talk to you Megumi, why’d you get into a fight yesterday hm?” You asked softly, being extra cautious.

“I told him not to tell you, I knew you’d be mad.” Megumi huffed out.

“Mad? Gumi I’m not mad at all i just wanna know why it happened so I can help you.” You replied looking at him through the rear-view mirror. 

“Well they were saying mean things.” He huffed again folding his arms to his chest. 

“Were they saying mean things to someone else? Or was it about you Megumi? You need to tell me so I can help you.” You asked gently.

“It was nothing you need to worry about.” Megumi harshly spoke back and you could only frown in response.

“I won’t be mad.” You added.

“They said mean things about me.” He replied after a minute of silence.

“What did they say Megumi?” You asked again.

“They said I don’t have a real dad or mom and that their moms tell them to not hang out with me cause you and Gojo are weird.” He said avoiding eye contact, embarrassed about getting worked up over something like this.

You gave him a tight lipped smile in response, not knowing where to start.

“You don’t have say anything I don’t have a mom or dad but it’s okay cause I’ve got you guys.” He said, almost murmuring as a light blush formed on his already rosy cheeks.

“You’re right Megumi, you don’t have a mom or dad but you have me and Gojo. You know we love you and Tsumiki a lot so next time someone says anything about you or our family you go straight to a teacher or tell me or Gojo and we will figure it out hm?” You asked turning around for a second to give him a reassuring smile as he nodded in response.

“Right, you do know that you owe Satoru an apology for yesterday? Skipping out on lessons and being mean to him.” You questioned while raising one eyebrow.

“Yeah yeah I’ll do that.” He spoke putting his head down in shame as you could only giggle.

To be fair those parents were not wrong, Gojo definitely gave everyone the wrong impression from his immature humour and Megumi’s dad did walk out on him but, that’s okay because your little, slightly dysfunctional family is now his home and forever. 

[bkgml]

ex bf againnnnnn!

(cw! mentions of vomit but nothing descriptive)

i wish i wasn’t shadow banned so more ppl could see this cause i worked hard!! :(

————————————————————————

10:47pm

yn: hey

katsuki nearly dropped his phone.

“bakugou man, why’re you so quiet?”

bakugou sighed deeply, rolled his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak.

“uh it’s nothing. none of your business.” he shrugs him off.

but sero already made his way behind him.

“bro, yn texted you?!” he calls out.

dropped jaws from around him make the boy seethe.

“i told you to mind your business!” he yells.

ignoring his friends screams, kirishima sees through bakugous facade.

“you gonna text her?” he asks calmly.

bakugou meets his eyes and sighs again.

“probably.” he groans.

“dude, what the hell! you were torn up for months after that breakup!” kaminari pipes in.

but he’s already typing.

10:59pm

suki: why are you texting me?

yn: sorry if i woke you up

suki: you didn’t

yn: can i call you?

he pauses again and the boys have now made their way to surround his phone.

“you guys are like fuckin hyenas.” he frowns.

“are you gonna call her?” kirishima says.

bakugou takes a moment to think before groaning and getting up.

“it could be an emergency.” he mumbles out before opening the door to kirishimas room to stand out in the hall.

*incoming call from ‘suki’*

your breath catches in your throat before you make your shaking thumb press the answer button.

“hi.” you speak shakily.

you pray he chooses to ignore the upset tone in your voice and he does.

“hey.” he replies calmly.

“um. were you asleep?” you ask.

“no, i was with the idiots.”

he hears you laugh lightly through the speakers.

“why’d you text me?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“well, i uh.” you laugh again, a habit you have when you’re nervous.

“i don’t feel well.” you say.

he pauses and starts tapping his foot.

“how’s that my problem? i’m not your boyfriend anymore.” he says, sounding meaner than he intended.

you sigh shakily and he can practically hear the tears forming in your waterline.

“yeah, um… i know that. it’s just i really can’t sleep.” you mumble, afraid of his reply.

“what do you want me to do about it?”

the pause is long before you speak again.

“god this is so embarrassing.” you whine, letting an uncomfortable laugh slip through your lips.

“just say it, alright?… it’s fine.” he says quietly.

“okay um… can i sleep in your bed with you? we don’t even need to make contact or anything.. i just feel like shit and it’s so hard to sleep without you.” you whisper.

he takes a second to think over his answer. if he’s being honest he was hoping you’d say something like that. he hasn’t had a good nights sleep since you broke up either. but on the other hand you’re broken up. he shouldn’t be doing this.

“are you still there, kugo?” you interrupt his train of thought.

he breathes deeply though his nose and blinks away some tears that are trying to form at the use of the nickname.

“uh yeah. just thinkin.” he replies, shakily.

“you really don’t need to let me. i only asked cause i’m really desperate and we didn’t end on terrible terms, you know?” you say quietly.

he rakes a hand through his hair and sighs.

“how bad is it?” he says.

“huh?”

“is it just a cold, or what?” he confirms.

“oh um, i have a high fever and i keep throwing up. sorry if that’s gross i just know you don’t get sick because of your quirk. i can’t ask any of my friends they’ll get sick.” you say.

he groans deeply while pinching the bridge of his nose. you guys are broken up, why does he still care?

“meet me outside my dorm in 5 minutes, and im not doing this shit again.” he mumbles out.

he hears you whine and sniff, feeling a tug on his heartstrings.

“thanks, kugo.” you say as your voice wobbles.

“don’t keep me waiting.” he replies.

the two of you hang up and he groans at the thought of having to tell the idiots.

he opens the door and steps inside.

“hey, so what’d she say?” kirishima asks.

“nothin. i’m going to bed.” bakugou grumbles.

“you sure?”

“yeah, fuck off.” he says as he steps back outside.

he heads back to his room and steps inside.

he made sure to get here before you so he could clean up some things he’s not so proud of.

the framed picture of you he’s never taken off his desk, the small bottle of perfume that rests on his nightstand and your shirt that sits on your side of the bed.

he can’t sleep on your side anymore.

he stashed them all in one of his desk drawers before hearing a knock on his door.

“here goes.” he whispers lowly to himself.

he opens the door to see you standing there.

face red and covered in tear stains, bed head, deep eye bags, lips plush and bitten and his hoodie draped on your form. you’re biting your nails, another habit you have when you’re nervous.

“hi.” you say with watery eyes, bringing the sleeve of his hoodie up to wipe the tears that are threading to fall onto your cheeks.

“hey.” he says, pushing the door open wider.

you step inside hesitantly, before getting a waft of nausea and sprinting into katsuki’s bathroom.

“yn?!” he calls, running after you.

he finds you hunched over the toilet.

“hey…” he says, walking over to you and kneeling beside you.

he’s hesitant but he does start to rub your back and clasp your hair in his hand to keep it out of the way.

“it’s alright, let it out. katsukis here.” he says, soothingly.

“hurts…” you whine.

he chuckles quietly.

“i know, swe-“ he cuts himself off, praying you didn’t hear the beginning of the pet name.

you sit up once your done and he sees fresh tears sliding down your face.

“that was a nice icebreaker, huh?” he smiles while he wipes your tears.

“oh yeah, me throwing up. great icebreaker.” you smile back as you lean into his touch.

“better now?” he asks.

you nod slowly before your face crumples up with disgust.

“i still have your extra toothbrush, come on.” he says as he helps you up.

you steady yourself once you’re on your feet.

“thanks, kugo.” you smile brightly.

he has to turn away from your bright smile and your cheery nickname.

“let’s just get you in bed.” he replies.

he waits for you to brush your teeth. while you were together he’d be doing it for you, you sitting on the counter with your legs around his waist and your hand holding his.

he blinks away tears that haven’t even formed yet at the thought of how things used to be.

“bed?” you ask sweetly once you finish brushing your teeth.

he nods and resists the urge to bring you by the hand into his bed so he can hold you until you feel better.

he walks into his room and heads into his bed.

he pats your side of the bed and you bite your nails again before slipping under the sheets with your ex boyfriend.

you turn towards each other but make no move to touch each other.

“you tired?” he asks when he sees your drooping eyes.

you nod and wipe your tears with his sleeve once again.

“why’re you crying?” he asks.

you sniff and snuggle deeper into the sheets of his bed.

“im sorry i made you take care of me.” you cry.

he lets a sigh through his nose.

“i know.” he says and he doesn’t resist the urge to cup your cheek to comfort you.

you whine and lean into his hand again.

“get some rest, yeah? katsuki’s here.”

he’s here. you’re okay.

you repeat those phrases in your mind as you close your eyes and drift off into a calm sleep.

once he knows your asleep he presses a lingering kiss to your head as he finally lets a single tear fall from his eye.

11:37pm

kirishima: hey bro, why’d you leave so early?

bakugou: none of your business.

kirishima: don’t tell me she’s there

bakugou: shut up.

kirishima: bro

bakugou: even if she is here it’s none of your fucking business

kirishima: im just saying you wore torn up for months about her

bakugou: it’s not like we fucked. she’s sick.

kirishima: are you sure?

bakugou: yes now fuck off.

he puts his phone back on the nightstand and ignores the buzzing of his friends protests.

staring up at the ceiling he sighs before he feels rustling from beside him.

you make your way from beside him to resting on top of him with your limbs tangled with his.

he inhales a shaky breath as he wraps an arm around you and kisses your cheeks.

he feels you hug him tighter and he stiffens.

“miss you…” he hears you mumble.

he pauses.

“miss you too, baby.” he calls out in the silence of his bedroom.

[georgiapeach30513]

Perfume on the Shelf

Summary: You told him he had one more chance to cheat, and you were done. Warning him there would be no second chances, but he didn’t listen. Couldn’t believe you. He definitely didn’t think you’d run into his partner’s arms. Jack was always waiting on you to wise up. And now he’s going to show you just how hard soft love can be.

Pairings: Jack O'Malley X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, drinking, cheating, unprotected sex, PIV sex, hard sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3K

Jack O'Malley Masterlist

You didn’t need to say anything or cause a scene. You saw him with another woman. Again. Again he disappointed you. Again he lied to you. Again he chose someone that wasn’t you. You gave him too many chances, and you’re not even sure if it’s because of love, fear, or just fucking stupidity that caused you to stay.

You take a sip of your whiskey. Letting the amber liquid burn down your throat, and give you something to think about besides the way he looked as he pushed into her. Her obnoxious pornstar sounds that echoed out into your home. Yes, he paid for it, but you still lived there. You loved it there, but he tainted it for the last time. It just wasn’t worth the loss of your dignity.

You give the bar a little tap, and the bartender gives you a pitiful look. “Just fucking pour me another round.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Absolutely not,” why the hell would you want to tell a stranger your problems? And what were you supposed to say? My boyfriend that’s a hitman for hire cheats on me all the fucking time, and thinks he should be allowed to that because his job is stressful, and he needs to fuck. Of course you have a perfectly viable pussy that he never complained about, but new pussy just feels different. And he thinks that is justifying his actions to you.

Asshole.

Robert wasn’t a terrible guy, but he was far from being great, or even good, especially in a relationship. You let him use you because you ‘love’ him. You scoff hearing that word in your mouth. While you loved him it was one sided, and you’re beginning to think you didn’t even love him at all. Maybe the idea of him, and that just makes you feel sick. What idea of him? The fact that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone that crosses you? Where have you heard that line before?

You are just as bad as him no matter how you want to think about it. You couldn’t justify how seeing him punish a man that has wronged you made you feel. How you watched him end the life of people for you — for your safety. You know you’re a sicko, but you also know you won’t be disrespected, and you at least are loyal. It wasn’t worth it.

Maybe the cheating throughout your relationship hardened you each time, so that when it was time to break free it didn’t hurt. What hurts is your ego and the fact he trampled all over it. Asshole. Big fucking dick asshole. You hate him, and hate it worse that you allowed him that amount of freedom with your heart.

Maybe shame is a better word to describe things. You just feel numb. Not the sense of relief you thought you would feel but…nothing at all. You tap your finger on the bar, hoping to get a refill soon. You lift the final drink to your mouth, but a thick and heavy hand lays on yours tapping the table and you look to your right. Annoyed that someone had the audacity to stop you, and you glare at the man.

“I think you’ve had enough. She’s had enough,” he says, waving at the bartender.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Jack. You can fuck off, too.”

“Yeah, he told me you hadn’t made it home. I told him you probably did.”

Your eyes downcast to the scratched wood. This bar is nowhere you would have ever found yourself any other time. You didn’t want to be found though. Robert would look at the high end hotel bars. you wanted to be left alone to lick your wounds and wait for him to get an assignment so you can pack up your shit, and leave for good.

“You knew?”

“Knew that he’s always fucking someone? Yeah. You’re the stupid woman that kept making excuses for him. The one that believed him when he said that he wouldn’t ever do it again, and it would last maybe a couple of weeks. Sex was real good at home, but then…like I said last time, he’s insatiable. It’s not you, it really is him. The man has no business being in a relationship. And I told you that. Or did you forget? You thought your pussy could cure his whoring ways,” you snort, your eyes go glossy as you look to the wall of liquor bottles.

Every time he cheated, Jack told you that you would be better off without him. That he wasn’t going to change, and he hadn’t. He was still a man that was going to fuck who he wanted to fuck. “That’s not all you said to me.”

“Oh yeah? And what else did I say, sweetheart?” His foot wraps around the leg of your stool, and he pulls you dangerously close to his own. Placing you right in between his thighs as he leans forward, “Go on, tell me what I said to you.”

“You know,” you whisper, your hand absentmindedly placing on his thigh. You move the hand up, and pull it back down. Looking at his thick leg, he places his fingers on your chin, lifting your gaze to him. Tsking you as he shakes his head. “You know what you said.”

“And I need you to refresh my memory. I easily forget.”

You lean in too close. Your mouth is right at his ear, and you place your lips over the shell, “You told me I could get under you, and you could help me forget him.”

“And what do you suppose I meant by that?” His breath on your neck sends a chill up your spine, and heat pools to your core. You feel like a bitch in heat with how bad you want him to make you forget. You didn’t love Robert, and had no intentions of returning, or even staying here. But something about your goodbye being with Jack’s cock fucking into you sounds delicious.

“I think you meant you want to fuck me,” leaning back you watch as Jack’s pupils expand. Blowing wide with dark pools of lust, and blocking out the crystal blue of his eyes. What both of you are proposing should be forbidden, but you weren’t loyal to any man anymore. You want him. You want him raw and unhinged.

“I think you want to hear what I sound like when I come on your cock. You want to fuck me so good and hard I forget everything I saw tonight. You want me to cry from pleasure instead of betrayal. You want me to be your little slut tonight, and have my cunt milk your cock dry.”

Jack doesn’t respond with words, he lays down a hundred dollar bill and picks you up, throwing you on his shoulder. His eyes roll in the back of his head when he feels your pussy throbbing with a need to be filled. A need to be punished. Carrying you out of the bar before walking down the street.

“Where are we going?” you ask, giggling because being upside down with some whiskey in your system is making you loopy.

“Uh uh, stay with me. We’re going to a hotel. It’s just a block away.”

“You mean that crummy old motel?”

“Eh,” he shrugs the best he can. “It’s the best option right now. Plus, I know what the best room of the place is. They keep it nice and clean for me. Just trust me,” you didn’t care about trust, you just want Jack to fuck you so you can say a big fuck you to Robert. You hoped that Jack bragged about it. Took a picture of it, hell, record it. You didn’t care. That part of you is no longer there. You want Robert to feel as low as you do, while you moan out another man’s name.

Get to feel blissful for once. You’re an adult, and you have imagined being under, over, beside, upside down, and whatever position this man could come up with, with Jack. The man is attractive, and he’s not been subtle in asking you, more like begging you. You are just now in the right state of mind to receive his kind of attention.

He slams open the door, and slings you on the bed immediately. His hands paw at your pants as he tries to remove your clothes while you look around the room. This is too nice here. It’s bigger than the normal room. “Take your shirt off,” he tells you breathlessly.

His lips attach to your legs, creating a trail of desire all the way up before his sinful mouth is kissing over your drenched panties. “What is this place?”

“It’s my home. Stop talking.”

“You live here?”

“Yes,” he sighs, leaning back on his haunches, and you sit up off the bed watching him. “And I’m apparently a little rusty. I’m pulling out all the stops for you, kissing you over that stupid piece of fabric that you call panties. Moaning at the way you taste, and you’re just worried about my damn hotel.”

“Your hotel?” You didn’t know this about Jack. He’s full of surprises.

“And I’m only mildly offended that you made that gross comment about my crummy hotel, but the fact you’re ignoring my pinky that is only slightly rubbing over you is offensive,” you genuinely smile at him. There’s more to Jack than meets the eye. He really wants you to enjoy this moment. Not just seek revenge on your lying boyfriend, but see him. Pay attention to him, even though you haven’t exactly ignored him.

There’s a true sadness over his face, and you pull off your shirt. Reaching behind you to your bra, “You’re not trying to talk yourself out of sleeping with me this time?” You shake your head no. A grin spreads over your face as you let your bra drop into your lap, and he slings it behind him quickly.

Lifting your ass you shake your hips back and forth, removing your panties, and spread your legs wide. Dipping your fingers into your warmth, and you bring them back out. Stretching them wide, and watching as Jack stares at the webbing of your slick coated your fingers.

“Get undressed, Jack,” he does so enthusiastically. Nearly tripping as he tries to rid himself of his clothes, and that glorious cock springs free. Beads of precum shine in the low lighting, and his member twitches with excitement. Kneeling on the bed, he crawls in between your thighs, and you cover your cunt with your hands.

“Oh, come on!” It’s more silly than serious, but he’s adorable being animated.

“First, tell me, is this a one time thing? Or are we going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on?”

“Sugar, I only want you for sex,” no he doesn’t. A man doesn’t chase after a woman for years just for sex. But you want him to admit it to you. It could be all there is, or it could be that he wants to sneak around some more. Your bet is on the latter.

“Sure you do.”

“I’m being honest,” he smiles as he starts to lift your hands away. Holding his cock at the base he runs his blunt tip through your folds. Collecting your arousal, and he dips lower. Pushing just the tip in before he pulls out. “This is just a one time thing. Understand?”

“Then you better fuck me hard and good, so I don’t forget.”

“I’ll fuck you so deep that your body will be mesmerized by me. Crave me for all of eternity, and ruin you for other men.”

“If it’s just a one time thing, why would you do that?” He doesn’t answer. He just crashes into your warmth. So fast that the world spins on another axis, and your body lurches up the bed. You yelp as his cock whispers against your cervix. Eyes rolling in the back of your head as Jack settles into your warmth.

Giving your walls a chance to accommodate his thick girth, and your breathing to regulate again. “What was that you asked?”

“I said,” he pulls out of your pussy, crashing back in, balls deep. Jack’s sack bounces off your ass, and you forget what you were trying to convey. “I said that — oh my fuck!” He does this again. Stopping your line of thought every time. He is almost painfully deep, but your body pulls him closer. Wrapping your legs around his waist, and arching your back.

You want to feel him through your entire body. “I think you were trying to say something?”

“Just fuck me!”

“As you wish,” he drags himself out of you, and starts to piston back in. A brutal pace, and you can’t think of anything else, but the pleasure. The absolute perfect way that this man melts into your body just like you are the perfect fit for him. The bed slams against the wall, and you still need more. Maybe it’s just Jack.

The thought of only getting this one time, and never again is appalling. You need this everyday. You need to receive him multiple times a day. Have him filling you up, but in a weird way, worshiping you. Petting around your face, and giving you the sweetest chaste kisses while he splits you in two. He is demolishing you from the inside out, and you want him to.

You want him to take all that he needs, just so you can thank him for his services. Thrusting into you so hard that you feel bruises being formed at the apex of your thighs. You could get used to this kind of treatment. The treatment that you are the only thing that could ever matter to him. And you are the only one that could make him feel this way.

“Jack! Jack! Jaaaaaacck!”

“I know. And you’re going to take everything that I give you. Whenever I give it to you, you’re going to take it, and you’re going to tell me thank you. Okay?” You nod your head, words barely able to form on your lips, and you take it all.

Every stab into your body, you take it. Every mark he nips onto your neck, you take it. Every sharp pinch to your nipples, you take it. You take everything with fervor. You will take whatever this man gives you. Every bit of it. You’re ruined for other men sexually, if only…

“I’m going to count to three, and we’re going to come together. One,” you pout up at him. Biting on your lip as your walls start to flutter around his wide cock. This is going too fast. If you only get one chance, he should make it last for hours.

“Two,” he softly wipes his thumb over your forehead, removing the sweat that beads along your skin, and you whimper out his name. He is the devil for being too good at this. You want more. More of him. Not just his body. But the buildup is too much. You want to come on his cock. You want to feel him come into you.

“Three,” his word is more like a grunt as your tight pussy clenches down around him. Holding him so tight that you hope you trap him inside until he gets hard again and the two of you die because you can’t stop fucking each other.

One more push into you, and you feel hot ribbons of his cum spurt deep inside of you, and you both mewl at the feeling of your juices mixing into the most beautiful form of arousal. Fusing together as one as you search his eyes. Please. Please let him tell you that one time is never enough. Be good enough that he wants to stay.

He whispers out your name while his breathing is labored, and choked. “I’m not good enough for you. And I’m not good enough to walk away from you either.”

“Good.”

“I need you to get dressed and walk away from me, and this life,” you twist your head to the side and study him. “You deserve a better life than this, and I need…”

“What do you want though?”

“For you to never go anywhere that I’m not. I’ve always wanted you, and you know that,” how could it be possible that you’re now the one that needs him in your life. Jack has tried for so long. Even before Robert became your poison of choice. Why did he stick around and wait for this moment for all that time?

“I want to do this again and again and again. I want you.”

And for the first time in so long, you want to do what you want, too. You want him. You hate this life. But you want him. You can’t go on pretending that this life doesn’t exist because he is all you want. For how long was anyone’s guess because you’re unsure when Jack is who you wanted, and yet you denied him because you were with Robert. But you are tired of pretending, and tired of fighting.

“I’m sorry I tried to make you jealous,” and there it is. The man is finally apologizing after all these years. Games and more stupid games. Games that had real life consequences. Games that made you both take such different paths in life. “I love you.”

“Ehh, we’re not doing that now. I’m sorry I had to make you jealous for making me jealous. And then I got caught in Robert’s web. No more games.”

“None,” he’s tired of the games and chasing as well. Now he just wants to chase you to the bed.

“Just you and me?”

“And the devil makes three,” and that’s how you like it. Equal partners. For now until you each take your last dying breath. Just you. And him. And the devil makes three…

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @rogersbarber

[saintsugu]

BAD HABITS. KINKTOBER DAY 2

rating: mature; mdni

pairing: rindou haitani x fem!reader

wc: 6k

content warnings: explicit content, bonten timeline rindou, sort of cnc/dubcon, drugs (pcp + laced weed) + a fairly unrealistic depiction of a high (rindou’s side), mentions of violence/murder, degradation, slight slut shaming, choking, oral (f!receiving), slight usage of a safe word/action.

author’s note: reposted fic !

You let out a deep breath as nicotine saturates your senses. It’s a feeling you’ve been familiar with for a while now. Your body feels lighter and your mind is more at ease. You know that it isn’t true peace, but it’s nice to feel it momentarily—even if it’s fake. 

Everyone has their vice, their own little escape from this wretched life that they lead. Drugs, sex, alcohol, whatever it might be. Whether we recognize it or not, we use it, and we abuse it to help ourselves. 

You haven’t really found yours. You’ve found small things that help you calm down and cope a bit, but you haven't found that special depravity. You’ve smoked several times with Sanzu— even dropped acid with him on occasion— but it never appealed to you as much as it did him. Ran’s invited you to go drinking as well, but you aren’t a heavy drinker like him. No matter what it is, nothing gets you off like it does with the other people here. Maybe it’s because you have a bigger chip on your shoulder— or maybe there’s no reason at all. 

The sound of traffic has always helped calm you, though. You figure that it’s because you grew up around it. Since getting high or drunk doesn’t scratch that itch, over the years you’ve found that the best thing you can do is go up to the roof for a smoke. 

“Thought I’d find you up here.” 

“I came up here for peace and quiet,” you don’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind you. “It’s no longer peaceful or quiet with someone else up here.”

���Funny.” It’s as if you can hear the way he rolls his eyes when he speaks.Rindou knows exactly why you come up here, so he sees straight through your answer easily. “Why’d you really come up here?”

“Sanzu’s high out of his mind and it’s annoying me.” He hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything; as if he’s waiting for you to continue. “And I’m sick of all this infighting,” you begrudgingly admit. 

Today, nothing went as planned and everyone’s been blaming each other. Takeomi pissed Rindou off during the mission, so naturally, Ran is pissed at Takeomi. Sanzu somehow believes that Kakucho is at fault, and like usual, Kokonoi has done nothing but fuel the fire with his snide remarks. The worst part about it all, is that you don’t even care. You just want everyone to shut the fuck up— or for better lack of words, you just want some goddamn peace and quiet. 

“There it is.” Finally, you turn your head around, solely to shoot him a glare. “Come back inside with me. I’ll get your mind off things. We can fuck around, it’ll be fun.”

“Wow. Way to sugarcoat things, Rin’.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You hear his quiet chuckle decorating the words, and you swear your lips curl up in amusement at the sound. 

“So what, you have new drugs you want to try?” You raise an eyebrow, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. 

“Correct, but you don’t have to try them with me. Just want you to keep me company, in case I, you know, go into cardiac arrest or something.” A small laugh bubbles out of your throat, despite the joke really not being that funny. You worry about Rindou a lot— all of them, truthfully. Your feet feel heavier than usual as you follow him back down the stairwell. 

Rindou is a lot different when the lights go dark and you’re left to yourselves. He’s a lot less guarded. You figure it’s just because he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances, with Bonten or his brother, but either way, it makes you feel good that he trusts you enough to be a little vulnerable around you. 

“So, what is Sanzu on for him to be pissing you off so much?” He muses. 

“Shit ton of acid,” you answer, cringing at the memory of the man talking in his circles. He was rambling on and on, yet you couldn’t even understand his words due to the speed at which they left his mouth. You nodded in your head out of pure confusion for nearly 15 minutes before escaping to the roof. “He was about to snort a line before I left, too.”

“I don’t blame you for leaving.”

Currently, you’re staying at Bonten’s base. Most everyone has their own place, but sometimes they still stay here regardless. Sometimes it’s safer, and for others, it’s just more convenient. For you, it’s the latter. 

The only current people occupying the building right now are you, Sanzu, and Rindou. Haruchiyo’s access to drugs is more limited when he’s at his own place— due to Mikey’s rules— so he ends up spending more time at the base. And Rindou is only here because his brother’s fling of the week is staying in their shared apartment. You, on the other hand, don’t really have a reason. Just like them, you have your own place and you go back to it sometimes, but it feels so lonely compared to here. 

The elevator stops on the fifth floor, which serves as a lobby and leads to everybody’s rooms. When the doors open, Sanzu is sprawled out on the couch. Little white lines decorate the glass coffee table, as well as a credit card and a few opened pill bottles. Sanzu isn’t going to die from a gun or a blade— you swear  his own addiction is what will kill him in the end; you pray that you won’t be around to see it happen.

“What do you have in store for us today?” You ask as you follow him into his room and he closes the door behind you. 

His room is fairly bland. The walls are coated with the same base of gray that decorates yours as well as every other executive. The room’s layout is similar to your own, but with his bed against the middle of the wall, it feels a little less spacious. Small piles of clothes clutter his wooden floor— taking up whatever space isn’t already covered by his rug. It’s not exactly messy, per say, but it’s not spotless, either. 

It’s probably because you were just outside, but you can’t help but notice how incredibly hot it is in Rindou’s room. It’s nothing he hasn’t already seen, so you have no qualms about unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting it hang open. Still, you don’t miss the way lavender eyes flit down to the blue fabric for a moment. 

“Let me find it.” His words are mumbled together as he kneels before the nightstand beside his bed. “I hid it in case that little shit out there came looking for it.”

It’s noisy as he knocks around things in the drawer, not trying to even be remotely gentle as he looks for it. It doesn’t take long for him to shut the drawer and stand up with a small baggie of pills in his hand. 

“Ta-da,” he simply says, sliding onto the bed with you. 

You aren’t as knowledgeable as the two bonten executives when it comes to drugs, so you ask, “What is it?” 

“Angel dust.” There’s a small grin on his face as he opens the bag. “Knabbed it off the shipment from last week.”

“Ah,” you nod, watching as he pulls out three of the little white capsules. “You seem excited.”

“Cause I am,” he chuckles. “I’ve been wanting to try this shit for ages. Do you think three is too much?”

You softly nod your head in agreement. “Maybe a bit,” watching as he drops a pill back into the bag and the leftovers into his mouth. 

There’s a soft smile on his face as he turns his gaze to you. “Now we wait.”

For a while, you were against this—the drugs, but you learned to deal with it, even to participate in it. You’re a fugitive, a truth that came a little too harshly for you. You realized that in the end, it really didn’t matter for people like you. You’re able to gamble with your own life as much as you want because you have no idea the next time you’ll come home from the field. So, people like Sanzu and Rindou will find their freedom in little white pills, while you sit back and watch, silently hoping nothing will go wrong. 

A few minutes of silence pass before he speaks up in an alarmed tone. “Oh shit, I got something special for you, too,” he mumbles as he crawls off the bed and returns to his place on the floor. “I almost forgot.”

His search is faster than it was the first time, but as he stands up, you watch him stumble a bit. His hands are quick to grab the edge of his nightstand and you swear that his grip is so tight that he could splinter the wood. 

“Rin, you okay?” You figure the drugs are kicking in, but even so, neither of you know how thiswill affect him. 

“Yeah.” His voice is shaky and you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut; more than likely trying to focus on something other than whatever shit he’s currently seeing. “Just give me a moment.”

You’re sitting up now, eyes trained on him and chest filling with worry. He takes a deep breath and then returns to his spot on the bed. “‘m okay now.”

While he changes the cart in his wax pen, you settle behind him. You let your hand run up the sides of his arms until they reach his neck. He lets out a low and quiet moan as you dig your fingers into the skin. You continue on and when he drops his head, taking it as an opportunity to press a kiss into the side of his neck.

His voice sounds light as he chuckles, “Shit, you’re good at this.” You feel him shiver as you lick a stripe up his neck and he’s quickly turning his head away. “Stop distracting me or I’ll never get this shit done.”

He returns to the work he was doing and you lean your chin on his shoulder, eyes fixed on his hands and the way they move. He swaps out the carts and throws the old one into the trash can a few feet in front of him. “Here, it’s for you.”

“Ooh, lucky me,” you chuckle, taking the device in your hand and lifting it to your lips. 

You take three large inhales and return to your assault on his neck as you wait for them to take effect. 

In contrast to your usual highs, it only takes about five minutes for it to start to settle in your system. The hits wash over you like a tidal wave. Usually, three would barely be anything for you, but this… “Holy shit, this isn’t regular weed, is it?” 

“It's spiced,” he answers, words sounding tired and a bit slurred. 

Intense wouldn’t even be the right word to describe it. You can feel everything and it’s almost nauseating. Even the low-light of Rindou’s ceiling fan is overwhelming your brain. There’s an odd buzzing from outside in the hall, and it’s far too loud for your liking. God, even your clothes make your skin itch. In an attempt to feel better, you lay back down on the bed. As soon as your back hits the matress, he’s there right next to you, greedy hands pulling you closer to him.

You’ve had highs like this before, but never from a pen or weed in general. You’re too aware of everything going on. Rindou’s hands on your body, his warm breath on your skin, the cool draft coming from the vent in the corner of his room—hell, even the clothes you’re wearing. 

You flinch as his tongue makes contact with your skin and it’s no surprise that you’re also more sensitive. You suck in a deep breath, trying to focus on something in the room to calm yourself down. “You didn’t just bring me up here for drugs, did you, Rin?” You both know the answer to that question and it’s only confirmed when he chuckles into your skin. 

“Maybe not,” he mumbles, not giving you any sort of warning as he sinks his teeth into your tender skin. 

“Fuck,” you swear, eyes snapping shut as soon as you feel it. It feels good, yet it’s nearly overwhelming. For some reason, you think eliminating your sight will help rein yourself in. “Rin, you can’t just do that.” 

He doesn’t respond, simply flashing you a lazy smirk—that you can’t even see— and tonguing over the fresh mark. “Baby,” he slurs out, fingers beginning to dig into your waist. “Want you.” He lays a kiss on the base of your neck. “Need you.” Another on your collarbone. 

It feels so different from every other time you’ve been with him. You’ve been high during sex before, but it’s never been like this. Every touch lights your skin on fire, every word makes your mind cloud with lust. At this point, even if you aren’t voicing it, you’d do anything to fuck him. 

“Then take me.” What’s meant to be a statement, comes out as a quiet moan. 

If someone were to ask, you wouldn’t be able to pinpoint when exactly this started happening. You’ve known Rin for years and it just  of…of…a happened. 

You aren’t able to remember the details, but you can remember the fact that you were both drunk and in desperate need of physical contact. It started off as a mistake, then an outlet for stress, and then somewhere along the lines, it morphed into a habit.

Deft fingers fiddle with the waistband of your slacks, and you can tell that he momentarily forgets about the zipper and button because he lets out a frustrated grunt as he tugs at them. You move to do it yourself, but he quickly realizes his mistakes. 

You lift your hips when you feel him clutch the fabric and he’s quick to tug the clothing as far down your legs as he can. You help him the rest of the way and your pants end up somewhere on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he sits up, movements a bit sluggish from the drugs. A chill is sent down your spine as his hands grip both of your thighs, spreading them a bit and making you involuntarily clench at the feeling. You swear you can see him drooling a bit at the view. 

You try to close them, to push against his hands, but like every other time you’ve tried before, he’s far too strong. 

Today’s mission was especially stressful for the both of you. Unncessary killing took place, and while that wouldn’t normally be a big deal for someone as famous as one of the Haitiani brothess, he knows how you feel about shit like that. You aren’t proud of your ‘line of work’, no one here really is (with the exception of Sanzu, maybe), but he can tell that your moodin particulary gets affected by that. 

When you two got back— even though you weren’t sure when it would be— you knew you should be ready for him to pull you into his room and fuck you into the mattress. 

You made a point of putting on Rindou’s favorite lingerie: a lace and flowery set, a thong with a matching bralette, in a teal color that ‘reminds me of my hair in the old days’. Now, you’re starting to rethink your decision, due to that look in his eyes when he sees them. 

“Shit, Rin, give me…wait.” Words are failing you. Your brain feels very overwhelmed. It’s not that you don’t want this, you just don’t know how well you’re going to be able to handle it. 

He easily keeps them spread, pinning them to the sheets as if to prove some kind of point. “Gotta taste you ‘fore I go insane.”

He’s painfully slow as he licks a stripe against your clothed cunt. Even though he’s out of it, he’s still using his old tricks. 

With your eyes pointed at the ceiling and your stomach tightened out of pure anticipation, you feel the man tap his fingers against the soft skin of your thigh. 

“Eyes on me, doll.”

Even his words are setting off something inside of you. It’s as if whatever you took opened up a whole new part of your brain and your body. Now your eyes are staring deep into his as he carefully pulls your panties down. The tips of his fingers drag alongside your hips, the calloused skin tickling your own in a way that makes you almost shiver. 

You can’t tell if it’s from the contact, the anticipation of what he’s planning, or just simply the look in his eyes. With the flimsy material out of the way, he runs his tongue over his upper lip and leans closer. 

It’s easy to feel his hot breath against your bare skin and it drives you crazy. He starts by leaving messy kisses on your inner thighs, sucking multiple bruises as he goes. He’s surprisingly teasing for a man who’s desperate. 

“Rin, fuck,” you swear, breath shaky. “Just do something.”

The first contact his tongue has with your clit, has you quietly moaning, head pushed back a little as you savor the feeling. Sadly, the feeling is short-lived as he quickly pulls away and presses a kiss against your thigh to get your attention. 

He stares up at you through tired eyes, and you swear that you have to hold back a moan at his words. “I gave you an order, didn’t I?”

Once your eyes are trained back on him, he returns to his previous actions. His tongue licks a long stripe in between your folds and then a few kitten licks against your clit. He repeats this a few times and it easily gets you borderline panting—especially with the added effect of the drugs. 

Your hand finds its way to his hair, and he lets out a deep groan as you grip the strands and push him deeper into your pussy. After one last lick, he takes the puffy bud into his mouth, eliciting a heavenly sound from you. He moans in harmony with you, fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your thighs. 

He finds it so cute the way you’re fighting the urge to close your eyes— the way you’re trying your best to obey him. After all, it’s the least you can do after shutting him out all day. He was really worried about you, and it’s up to you to make it up to him with those pretty moans of yours. 

You don’t question the way one of his hands leaves your leg, but your eyes shoot open when he pushes two fingers inside of you. 

“R-Rin,” you manage to say, the feeling more intense than it has been in a long time. “I don’t think—”

You whine at the loss of contact as he pulls his lips away to speak, resting his head against your inner thigh. “How do you think you’re gonna be able to take my cock, if you can’t even handle two fingers?”

You don’t even have a response, too focused on the way the pads of his fingers brush against your g-spot with ease. He’s sloppier than usual. He doesn’t have those precise and practiced movements that usually have you screaming his name. The drugs are probably responsible for it, but your own drugs are making the experience more than enjoyable. 

“Rin,” you moan out, barely even sure of what you’re about to say. 

“What is it, doll?” His voice sounds tired, yet it maintains that teasing lilt. 

While you struggle to answer what exactly it is, he busies himself by sucking on the fat of your thigh; no doubt littering it with marks. 

“I need more.” You barely choke out the words, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at the man in between your legs. 

“Sweetheart, no offense, but you can barely handle this.” To further get his point across, he abruptly presses hard into your sweet spot. 

You can’t control the loud moan that leaves your lips as your eyes roll back. Your hips jerk against his mouth and you know that you’re almost at your breaking point. 

“Besides, weren’t you just complaining that it was too much?” 

It’s that unparalleled confidence that has always drawn you towards him. Even though he’s probably tripping out of his mind right now, he’s still as cocky as ever. As an executive, you have a lot riding on your shoulders; a lot of responsibility and a lot of choices to make. So it’s nice to have someone take control every now and then, even if it’s just during sex. 

“Please don’t stop.” You can’t even register how loud your cries are, your mind too focused on him to worry about keeping quiet. “Please, Rin, please.”

He can feel the way your thighs shake beside his head and goddamnit, it’s really been way too long since he’s gotten you like this. There’s only been time for quickies before meetings or after missions. He hasn’t had enough time to get you shaking for him in a long time, and fuck, has he missed it. 

“R-Rin,” you whine. “Rin. Want to—shit.”

“What’s that?” He hums, a condescending tone clothed by faux sympathy. “What do you need?”

You sound high out of your mind when you slur the words, “I want to cum on your cock.”

He can feel himself twitch when you speak. On one hand, he wants to make you work harder for it, but on the other hand—the compulsive hand that currently has a lot more control in his decision-making— he wants to fuck you, and he wants to fuck you right now. 

“Fuck, you’re so needy.” The strangled grunt he lets out sounds animalistic as he pulls away from you. 

You whine at the loss of contact, but he successfully shuts you up with his mouth on yours. His hands fumble with his belt as he nips at your lips, too high to worry about how he’s wasting all of your arousal by accidentally getting them on his pants. The kiss is sloppy, all teeth and tongue as he leans his frame against you. 

You’re too busy entangling your hands in his hair to notice how far along he is in stripping, the only way you can know is when you hear the sound of his belt hitting the floor. 

“Gonna fuck you real good.” Everything he does and says gets you even more drunk. You’re drunk on his taste, his touch, just him. It might be an exaggeration, but you’ve never wanted to fuck him more than in this moment. 

You whine his name, hands grabbing at his jaw to pull him closer to you. You moan into his mouth when you feel his tip push into you, slowly starting to stretch you out. 

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” he curses at the way you tighten around him, making it almost impossible for him to even bottom out. 

If it wasn’t for the drugs numbing his senses, he might’ve not been able to handle this. The way you're squeezing him and calling his name, even in this drugged-up state, he’s going to need to get a grip or else he might not last for long. 

You arch your back against the mattress as he finally fills you up to the hilt. Your hands travel down to his back, and he moans when you drag your nails against his skin, leaving bright red lines in their wake. 

During the time you’ve spent with him, you’ve learned all of his little tells, and he’s done the same with you. You know what makes him tick, what his breaking point is, and how exactly to get him there. You also know that he has a fixation with pain. 

Neither of you have talked about it; there hasn’t been a need. It was understood that he liked it in a sexual sense, but for a long time, you didn’t know the nature of it. He can be sadistic when he fights and has always gotten a sense of fulfillment when his skin is painted red, but that doesn’t transfer over to the bedroom. When he’s here with you, he wants to be hurt. Whether that be you pulling his hair or digging your nails into him until he bleeds, it drives him crazy. 

His strokes are messy. It’s more of him rutting his hips against yours, rather than fluid motions. Even though it isn’t precise like it usually is, it still feels so damn good. His face is buried into the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin. 

Your chest is pressed against his, nipples rubbing against him through the thin fabric of your bralette as you push your head into the pillow. “Rin,” you gasp out as his teeth bite down on your neck, quickly soothing the mark with his tongue. When his hand slips down and he messily rubs the pads of his finger against your clit, you cum on the spot. 

He lets out a growl into your neck as you clamp down on his cock, whispering words of how fucking dirty you are. He wants to cum so bad, wants to fill you up to the brim so much that it hurts, but due to the hallucinogens in his system, he needs extra stimulation to get to that point. 

His pace never falters, continuously fucking into your abused cunt. It doesn’t take long for tears to well up in your eyes. 

“Rindou, s-slow down.” Unfortunately, your cries fall on deaf ears. He’s too focused to listen to the weight of your words. “Fuck, I can’t—”

“You can and you will,” he grunts. 

It hurts but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t also feel good. You don’t know if you physically can take it, but goddamnit, you’ll try your best. You know that no matter how fucked out of his mind he is, he’ll stop if you say the safe word, so you’ll keep that tucked away until the last possible moment.

Tears fall down your cheeks and Rindou has to admit that it has to be one of the prettiest sights he’s seen. There’s part of him that feels bad for this, for pushing you to your limits, but seeing you like this makes him want to tear you apart. He wants to get you to those limits and push you beyond that point. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Acting like you don’t like this… dirty fucking slut.” His words are followed by a loud and almost pornographic moan. “Sucking me in like this, but bitching about how you can’t take it. P-Pick one—fuck.”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum again. It’s more forced and rushed this time, but it still feels euphoric all the same. Now, as he still fails to slow down, you think you might actually pass out. 

You’re sobbing at this point, moaning and whining, begging him to stop, but he doesn’t. He just keeps fucking you like an animal in heat— a beast.

“Rindou, please.” You sound pathetic, you know that, but if he keeps going, he’s going to break you. 

“Shut up,” he growls, his hand finding its way to your throat. “You’ve whored yourself out to the rest of Bonten, you can handle this.”

His palm presses against the skin, fingers wrapping against the sides of your neck as he applies minimal pressure. 

“I haven’t, please, Rindou..!” You deny his accusations, desperately shaking your head. 

“Stop lying to me,” he speaks through gritted teeth as he ruts into you. “You’ve slept with my fucking brother, so you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You and Ran fooled around a long time ago, and it was also a while before anything happened between you and Rindou. He knows it was purely sex and it doesn’t bother him that much nowadays, but sometimes, the thought of anyone else getting to see you like this sends him into a feral state. 

His speed picks up and his grip on you tightens. His release is close by, right there on the tips of his fingers, but in chasing it, he’s hurting you. He should feel bad, he partially does, but it feels so blissful that he can’t bring himself to stop. How can he when you’re sucking him in like this?

His palm squeezes your throat in an uncomfortable way, and just like that, your ability to breathe is out the window. It always feels good when he chokes you, but it’s not exactly rare for him to accidentally o a bit overboard.

You lightly tap your fingers against his wrist, three times to signify the ‘safeword’ just as you have every time before, but he doesn’t stop. Your eyes widen in surprise as he keeps applying pressure. At this point he’s pressing you down into the mattress. 

You repeat the action, a bit harder this time. You’re starting to panic but he continues. You trust that Rindou would and will never hurt you, not on purpose at least, but this is alarming. It’s never happened before and you don’t know why it’s happening now. Until it hits you. 

You didn’t calculate the drugs running through him. His senses are numbed, he probably can’t even feel it. You tug on his wrist with both of your hands, but it still doesn’t get through to him. You're losing your strength due to the foggy feeling in your head, and you’re starting to run  out of options. You don’t know what to do. You try and pull his hair, but his only reaction is a muffled moan into your neck. 

You’re scared. You’re tired, weak, and far past overstimulated. Now you can’t even breathe. You want to be done. You’ll suck him off so that he cums, but you can’t do this anymore—

All of those thoughts leave your head as he buries himself deep inside of you one last time and reaches his orgasm. As soon as you feel him start to fill you up, you’re cumming with him. 

“Fuck, baby—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rambles, too lost in pleasure to make coherent statements. 

His grip starts to loosen up after his high peaks and you gasp for air as it does. Your body is still shaking despite the pressure on your throat being gone. You genuinely thought you were about to pass out. That’s…never happened before. Rindou has always been tentative and in tune with your reactions. The only other time you had to use your safeword, he was backing off in an instant. You let out a shaky breath as you try to gather yourself on the comedown from your high. 

When your eyes finally land back on Rindou, he looks scared shitless. Even though he’s exhausted, his energy comes back in the form of panic. He pulls his half-softened dick out as he leans back to look at you. “Oh my god, are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I just—”

“I’m so sorry baby, I don’t—I’m sorry I was so rough. Shit,” he curses at himself. 

“Rindou, calm down.” You rub your finger against his cheek and the way he leans into your hand is fucking adorable. “You didn’t mean to, you just didn’t notice when I tapped your wrist.’”

“Fuck,” he groans, laying his head on your chest andturning his cheek to press it against your skin. “I’m so sorry, doll.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” Okay isn’t the right word at this moment, but you don’t need him any more panicked or upset than he already is. All that will do is make you more upset in turn. You’ll discuss this again, once you’re both sober. 

“What can I do?” He nuzzles his head into you, laying between your legs. “Would a bath help?”

“Yeah, it would,” you smile at him, running your hand through his lavender hair. 

What started as a hookup and led to a habit, has now turned into something you genuinely couldn’t live without. 

In the end, 

Rindou is your vice. 

tagging: @chaoticmoonave @dilfhos @kkittycries @enchantedforest-network @seraphdreams

[pholla-jm]

If You Won't, I Will

IMAGINE: IF YOU WON'T, I WILL ~ SANJI X F!READER (FEAT. ZORO) GENRE: FLUFF WARNING: NORMAL SIBLING FIGHTS Nova's Notes: I really didn't know to categorize this as a Zoro or Sanji fic. *********************

Being Zoro’s sister was no easy feat. Dealing with his nonchalant attitude and his stubbornness took a different level of patience. However, you wouldn’t trade him for the world. He’s always been right by your side and you’ve always been by his side as well. 

You would even go as far as calling him your best friend. He knew everything about you and your habits. Which almost annoyed you sometimes because you could never get away with anything. 

That’s why Zoro was highly disturbed when you saw you acting weird around the cook. He’s never seen you act like a ‘flustered idiot’ -those are his words- 

When you spilled your confession to Zoro about your crush on Sanji, he was even more mortified. He didn’t understand what you saw in him. It took him a couple days to accept the fact that you had a crush on Sanji. But that doesn’t mean he really approves of it. 

Now that Zoro knew about the crush, you felt free to just talk about Sanji to Zoro. 

Zoro really didn’t like hearing about it, but he knew if he didn’t then he would have to deal with your attitude. So he sucked it up and just listened to your rants. He definitely started to get annoyed. 

With a dreamy sigh, you look up at the ceiling while your brother does his work out routine. “Did you see how his sleeves were rolled up? I just love when he does that when he cooks. And! The way his hand grazed mine while giving me my plate.” 

Zoro grunts, a mixture of lifting his heavy weights and hearing you talk about Sanji like a love sick high school girl. “No, I don’t pay attention to him.” “Ugh, I wish you could see what I see in him.” 

Zoro’s face pulls up into one of disgust, “why would I want that?” “Because he’s just so amazing, duh.” 

Zoro drops his weights on the ground, causing it to shake a little from the sudden force. He looks over at you, his eyebrows pulled together in frustration. 

“You should tell him how you feel.” He says, causing you to sit up with a frightened look on your face. “No, absolutely not.” “And why not.” “I would be absolutely mortified.” “Just do it. Nothing can go wrong.” “Uh, yes it can. Literally anything can go wrong.” 

Zoro just gives you a look, “if you don’t say anything, I will do something.” 

You stand up from the couch, “you wouldn’t.” “You know that I will.” 

You do know that in fact he would do something. “If you even step out of this room, I swear I’ll beat you to the pulp.” 

Zoro smirks at your threat, “I don’t even have to step out of this room.” “Gah! You’re so annoying.” You yell at him while picking up one of his weights to throw at him. 

His eye widens causing him to duck and the weight crashes through the window. He looks back at the broken window, then back at you. “Are you crazy?! You’re the annoying one always talking about that stupid cook!” “He’s not stupid, you are!” Zoro frowns at your words, “that’s it.” He grumbles and makes his way towards you. You let out a small shriek, running around the room so he wouldn’t catch you. 

Just down below, on the deck, the loud sound of a crash was heard. Followed by a large weight crashing right onto the deck. 

“Oh my…” Robin says, eyeing the disaster in front of her. Nami, who was already fuming because the weight almost hit starts to yell. “What are those two idiots doing?!” 

She tries yelling at the two of you, but her yells fall upon deaf ears. 

Back in the crow nest, you were dodging all of Zoro’s swings and attempts to catch you. But you were faster than him. “You’re too slow!” You tease him while sticking your tongue out. 

“You brat!” He shouts trying to grab you. You quickly moved to the side, but you didn’t see the bar in the way. With a small shout, you fall to the ground. Zoro uses this to his advantage and picks you up by the front of your shirt and lifts you up. 

So now you are face to face with him. And boy does he look angry. You let out a nervous laugh, “have I ever told you how great of a brother you are?” 

That did nothing. Not a single muscle in his face changed. 

That was until his eyes flicker behind you. You could see the gears turning in his head and a small smirk forming on his lips. You knew that whatever idea he has in his head is definitely not a good one. 

“Let me go you heathen!” You shout while punching his arm. He doesn’t even flinch at your hits. 

While you did beat him in stealth and speed, he did beat you in strength and durability. 

He walks over to the broken window and sticks you out of the window. 

“What the actual hell are you doing!” You shout at him, your grip suddenly becoming ten times tighter. “Say that you’ll confess your feelings or I’ll drop you.” 

It was silent between you two. The only thing that could be heard was some shouting from down below from your crewmates. You look down below you, seeing how far the drop would be. 

“Mm,” You shrug, “I’ll take the drop.” 

Zoro’s reaction turns into disbelief. “You would rather fall than tell him how you feel?” “Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’. “Unbelievable.” 

His grip starts to loosen from your shirt. You were about to fall, but you suddenly wrapped your legs around his arm. “Eh?!” Zoro shouts and grips onto the side of the window to stabilize himself. “Just drop already!” “No!” Zoro starts to shake his arm, trying to get you off of him. 

“Mosshead!” 

You heard the familiar voice of the guy that you had a crush on. Your heart beats a little faster, just from hearing his voice. 

Zoro just groans from annoyance. However, he felt how your legs loosened up a little. “Maybe your lover will catch you.” “Huh?” You look up at him confused and you suddenly feel yourself fall from his arm. 

Before a scream could even leave your lips, someone had caught you.

“Hey lovecook! My sister has a huge crush on you!” 

You swear, you could feel your soul leave your body from hearing Zoro’s words. 

You were then placed on solid ground. And warm hands caress your face, “are you okay?” You were brought back to reality, vision clearing to see Sanji. Your face becomes red at his closeness. “Uh… yeah. Yeah. Just my brother and I having a fight. You know how those can get.” You nervously laugh. Sanji chuckles, “yeah. Siblings are the worst.” 

“Did.. did you hear what he said?” You ask, really hoping that he didn’t. You take a chance and finally look up into his eyes. His eyes were soft as he looked down at you. You really hope that this wasn’t about to be a rejection. “Yeah,” he softly says, “I did.” 

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes widened in shock, but you really enjoyed the soft feeling of his lips that sent tingles throughout your whole body. And you wanted nothing more for him to just place kisses all day.

“We can talk more about this later, but first I have to teach your idiot brother a lesson on how to treat a woman. You don’t just go throwing women out of windows!” 

You giggle at his words as he stomps away, ready to give your brother a piece of his mind.

[gffa]

It has been a whole entire week since I posted my previous set of recs and guess who is still hip deep in BATFAMILY fic and really wants to cry about feelings about all the Bats and Birds, but most especially my beloved Dick Grayson? I enjoy fic of all the characters, there should hopefully be something for most fans here, I eventually spread my wings a bit (ha ha) through the fandom, but absolutely I feel I should warn you all that I play favorites and I’m not subtle about it. In my defense he’s really annoying in the most delightful way, how could I not love him the most? So, here, have week #2’s recs where I dump 60+ more fics on you because this fandom is on fucking fire with how good it is and how much I love everyone here. God bless fic writers, you are all doing the lord’s work of giving me three novels worth a week to read and knocking it out of the park while you do it. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ The Painful Truth by RascalJoy (DarkQuill), dick & bruce & wally & artemis & m'gann & conner & dinah, 6.2k      In a mission gone wrong, Robin finds himself being forcefully interrogated under…influence. “Now, you’re probably wondering why we haven’t just yanked your mask off and been done with this whole thing, hmm? It’s because this way is so much more fun.” ✦ a home not yet a home by Mayarenerose, dick & bruce, 1.1k      Dick just likes climbing to the roof sometimes. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He doesn’t. He just needs to be high up sometimes. He likes looking at the stars. Stars are hard to come by in the city and you need to be high up to even see them properly. ✦ Friends That Say (You’re Not Alone) by ProsperDemeter, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 3.5k      Richard. The kid. Richard Grayson. Clark didn’t feel ready to meet the child that Bruce took in. What if he was a mini-Bruce? What in the world would Clark do then? ✦ Taking Flight: A Tragicomedy in Four Acts by WingFeathers, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 48.7k      John and Mary Grayson die; Dick becomes Robin. This is everything that happens in between, a/k/a, how Gotham City ripped one family and identity from Dick and gave him another. An origin story in the Rebirth spirit, weaving together threads from Tec #40, Dark Victory, Robin: Year One, New 52, and more. ✦ Motion Sickness by Arwriter, dick & bruce & cast, 4.2k      A routine patrol is interrupted when Robin realizes he’s being followed. There’s no attack, no ambush, no weapons drawn. Dick doesn’t understand what this man wants, or why his gentle touch hurts so bad. But Batman seems to know, and Dick just wants someone to tell him what he did wrong. ✦ do as I say (not as I do) by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 1.1k      “Don’t be mad.” Bruce has been raising Dick long enough to know that that sentence never bodes well. Especially when it’s the first thing to pop out of the twelve-year-old’s mouth when Bruce answers the phone. ✦ Burn Rubber by HoodEx, dick & bruce & roy, 3.5k      Roy couldn’t help but feel out of place like his presence was keeping Bruce from acting like himself. Whatever “himself” looked like. Bruce had always been a bit of a cold asshole anytime Roy had been around him. Even when Bruce talked to Dick, there was a barrier there that made their conversations seem strictly business. Some part of Roy had always wondered if Bruce was the same way with Dick at home. For Dick’s sake, he sure hoped not. OR the one where Roy gets to see Bruce act like a dad. Also, there are cars. Lots of cars. ✦ Surprise, You’re Adopted by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce, 1.8k      Dick gets kidnapped. Bruce gets worried. Things turn out alright in the end, though. ✦ without you i am surely the last of my kind by nosecoffee, dick & bruce & clark & j'onn, 6.6k      (Bruce Wayne also knows how it feels to be a scared little boy who just watched his parents die, telepathic mind meddling aside, and has had his eyes fixed on Dick Grayson since his parents fell, so of course he’s going to get him. It’s all he can do.) (Or, Dick Grayson is a traumatised alien empath with bad timing, and Bruce Wayne still needs to learn how to verbalise his emotions.) ✦ The Bone Road by scpnightwing, dick & bruce & alfred, 63.8k wip      By night, Robin was his partner in crime, but once the sun rose, all Dick could be was a mirror of his tragedy, haunting his halls and asking for more than Bruce had in him to give. (The early days of Batman and Robin, and the many mistakes therein) BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ The Shape Of You (Was Jagged And Weak) by WinterSky101, dick & bruce & jason & tim & slade & cast, 40.6k      Six months ago, Nightwing died. They never found the body. Last week, Deathstroke arrived in Gotham. He brought a partner with him. ✦ We Were Built to Fall Apart by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & tim, 1.2k      Dick is hurt, tired, and ready to let go. Bruce doesn’t seem to be ready to let him. ✦ It’s a Wonderful Earth-218 by BeatriceEagle, dick & bruce & past dick/babs & cast, 7.4k      As Blüdhaven burns, Dick makes a wish that he’d never been born. He wakes up in a world where that’s true, being followed around by a supervillain who just really wants to get back to taking over the world. ✦ the higher fidelity by birdsofthesoul, dick & bruce & damian, 3.6k      Bruce goes sheet-white, looking like Dick’s just cut him to the quick, and Dick can’t help but think they should have booked a flight, discretion be damned. This — this is why they don’t do road trips. Cars are like confessionals, cramped spaces built for coercing confessions, and neither of them are good with words. ✦ Theory of Relativity by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & jason & cast, de-aged!dick, 2.2k wip      In which Dick Grayson gets de-aged and everybody freaks out ✦ hold the fort (for i am coming) by deargalileo, dick & bruce & jason & tim & duke, de-aged!dick, 3.6k      Jason’s jaw dropped. The tiny human child toddled in front of him, gripping at his pant legs. Automatically, he bent his knees slightly. The child lost its grip, and fell flat onto its ass. They both froze. The child’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. “No no no, don’t cry,” Jason rushed out. He leaned down and scooped the child into his arms. “Don’t cry, okay?” The child grabbed onto his shoulder as Jason settled it (him?) onto his upper hip. Big, blue eyes blinked up at him, shining with unshed tears. When the fuck did B have the time to adopt a new kid? ✦ There’s Always Another One by lapsedpacifist, dick & hal (& bruce), 2.5k      After Bruce kicked Dick out, there was a very particular place Dick decided to visit. Well, visit, hide in, it was all one and the same. He could do it without Bruce! Just a shame Hal was finished with his assignment a week earlier than anticipated. ✦ The True Sons of Batman by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & damian & jason & talia & cast, 10.8k      What if Dick Grayson was Bruce Wayne’s biological son? ✦ Hey! He Attempted a Coup! by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & clark & justice league & zod, 3.1k      What if Dick Grayson was a Kryptonian? ✦ Unsteady by 60sec400, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cast, 14.8k      Nightwing is 22 when he’s hit by, well, something. They haven’t actually figured that out yet. But now he’s ten years old and a child and Damian struggles to see the man who he had looked to as a father forget who he ever was. De-aged fic. AU. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Mirage (What I See In You) by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & damian, 3.4k      Grayson’s gaze flicks upwards to meet his, and suddenly his expression softens. He smiles. “It’s okay,” he says, the movement of his lips clear even if his voice sounds like it’s coming through a broken radio. Suddenly, he’s pressing a rebreather to Damian’s face. His own rebreather, whole and unbroken. ✦ The Dog Days Are Done by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & cast, 3k      Dick is a good guy. He is. He knows that. Just like he knows that bribing your wayward, animal-loving, emotionally-traumatized brother to come see you with a puppy is exactly what all good guys do. That was a fact. ✦ To the Moon by theLiterator, dick & damian, 9k      A newly resurrected Damian Wayne does not believe Dick Grayson is dead. Spyral has been quietly helping to deal with the aftermath of Leviathan’s reign of terror and is wary of clones. Dick Grayson does not believe Damian Wayne is alive. (Together they fight crime, but’s always been true, hasn’t it?) ✦ Redemption Lies Plainly in Truth by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & damian, 6.2k      Damian tries to pull his wrist out of his grasp. Any other time, Dick would let him go without hesitation, always careful to make sure his personal space is respected. This time, he catches his other wrist as well, gentle but firm as he crouches down to make eye contact. “Hey,” he says, smiling gently. “Do you trust me?” ✦ whether you’re high or low by Anonymous, dick & damian & jason, 1.9k      Dick’s first visit back to Gotham in a while ends with a shattered TV screen and more questions than answers for Damian and Jason. ✦ wrap myself in a thin sheet of ice by emavee, dick & damian, 3.3k      Damian falls victim to a witch’s curse, giving him a week to live before his heart turns to ice. There is a cure, but there’s no way someone like Damian would ever receive a kiss of true love. ✦ as love carries its strength, but not its labels by AlterHarpia, dick & damian, 2.7k      Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I’m not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ Say Uncle by Megaerakles, tim & jason & bruce & dick & steph & cast, 46.3k      Tim is prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that Bruce will not feel obligated to adopt Tim when a comatose Jack Drake inevitably dies. But what could be better than preventing Bruce from ending up with a son he doesn’t want? Bringing back the one he does. Jason agrees to the Replacement’s stupid, stupid plan to invite some strange adult man he’s never met to come live with him, if only to keep the idiot alive long enough for him to serve his purpose in the Great Red Hood Revenge Scheme. Might this new roommate situation have an impact on either of their worldviews? Surely not… ✦ Ain’t No Compass, Ain’t No Map by ebjameston, tim & jason & dick & cast, outsider pov, 51.8k      A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood’s lieutenant, and an intern who’s promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It’s a weird day for Theo. ✦ The Longer You Stay by emiv, bruce/selina & dick & jason & tim, 64.3k      Bruce Wayne was never meant to be part of Selina’s clean slate. Then again, neither were a circus boy, a street rat or a rich kid. For a girl who didn’t like strings, Selina found herself getting attached. ✦ Falling, Catching by Freezer7, dick & jason/roy, 4k      The call comes in at two thirty-four am, on Dick’s first night off in three weeks. ✦ Piñata by Maximum_Quinn, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & steph & duke, 2.2k      “I found… something weird today.” “Weird how?” “I was checking out that half-destroyed apartment building today, and there was, like… papier-mâché everywhere? In Robin colors.” (Duke learns about an odd tradition between the Bats and the Rogues.) ✦ Five Times Dick Was Tim’s Safety Net and One Time Tim Was Dick’s by PrinceJakeFireCake, dick & tim, 5.2k      “Tim forced his gaze away from his phone, took a moment to breathe deeply, then tried to figure out the best way not to die anytime soon. For Bruce. For Alfred. For his friends. For Dick.” Dick has always been there for Tim, even before they knew each other. ✦ wet teeth, shining eyes, glimmering by a fire (who will i be tonight?) by lifetimeoflaughter, dick & jason & cast, 2.3k      They’re standing on a rooftop. It’s not very high up; only about ten floors, give or take. The moon isn’t out tonight. It’s dark. It’s too dark to tell if it’s blood that’s dripping from Jason’s gloved fists. ✦ smeared with oil (like david’s boy) by call_me_steve, bruce & dick & tim & damian, de-aged!damian, 2.1k      Dick’s leaning over the edge of the couch, watching a tired Bruce stare lovingly down at the baby cradled in his arms. The baby’s swaddled in soft green blankets, probably procured by Alfred at some point or another. It’s hard to believe that this is actually Damian- Damian, and his big, bright, brown eyes; his soft, baby hair; his pudgy cheeks and small fingers. Clear of a snarl and frown and, instead, reduced to soft babbles and the occasional giggle. In his chest, Dick’s heart flutters. He feels his breath stop for all of a moment- God, this kid already has him wrapped around his finger. “Can I hold him?” ✦ There in the Sudden Blackness by CamsthiSky, dick & tim & damian, 1.7k      Tim and Dick argue, and at the end, Tim’s not actually sure if either of them actually won. ✦ The Mechanics of a Hug by incogneat_oh, dick & tim & damian & bruce, 4.1k      “So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.” ✦ Taking Care of Business by Nokomis, dick & tim, 1.7k      Tim (only somewhat reluctantly) accompanies Dick on an undercover mission at an Elvis convention. ✦ where were you when I was king in this part of town? by Cerusee, dick & jason & bruce, 4k      The teen sitting next to him had mostly polished off his pork noodles, and he was eyeing Nightwing’s. Nightwing handed them over without a word. “Why,” he said, more to himself than the kid, “why, oh, why do I feel like I know you?” Because you do, came the unbidden thought. ✦ head in the clouds by Alienu, dick & jason & tim & damian, 4.7k      “Hey,” Tim says out of the blue. “Has anyone ever noticed that Damian has, like, weirdly sharp canines?” Dick makes a face. “What?” he asks. Then seems to think about it a little more, and says, “Oh, I mean… kind of? I don’t really pay attention to his teeth.” He turns to Damian. “Robin, let me see your teeth.” The kid growls. “I’m not afraid to bite you, Nightwing.” “Furry,” Jason coughs. Damian throws a batarang at him. ✦ A little more heart and soul by ruesyblues, dick & jason & damian, 2k      What do you do when the brother you raised and loved and left now seems to be withdrawing and you want the best for him but you’re not sure if you did the right thing and oh fuck what if you made a mistake?? (Dick wants Damian to be happy. He just has no clue how to accomplish that.) ✦ To Reconcile by CasualDanger, dick & jason, 2.4k      “Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?” ✦ damian clone triplets!!! by drakefeathers, dick & bruce & damian, 2.1k      Bruce finds and rescues three baby Damian clones~!!! babies~!! ✦ fear toxin (◡‿◡✿) by drakefeathers, dick & bruce & jason & tim & cass & steph & damian & alfred, 3.6k      six drabbles about batkids crying and screaming after being dosed with scarecrow’s fear gas~ (⊙‿⊙✿) ✦ Two Birds, One Stone(d) by MichaBerry, tim(/kon) & bruce & dick & jason & alfred, 5.8k      After a drugs bust gone sideways, Tim is a very high little bird. Cue shenanigans and family bonding. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once, tim/kon & damian/jon & dick & jason & bruce & cast, nsfw, 22.4k      Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And- Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t- BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Hard Truths and Other Realities by CKBookish, dick & bruce & jason & clark & wally & cast, 113.6k wip      Clark shifted his weight making the floorboards creak and groan under his feet. “Dick I hate to see you–” He paused searching for the right word. Dick snorted. “Wallow?” Clark sighed. “That’s not what I was going to say.” “I know. I can go to the barn and hang out there if I’m bothering you and Lois.” Dick pushed himself up. Of course he should have thought of that. Lois didn’t want some random teen laying around her home on Christmas Eve. ✦ You Won’t Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & damian & jason & tim, 5.2k      Dick’s captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ The Robin Manual by lurkinglurkerwholurks, dick & bruce & damian, 2.3k      Bad days were nothing new. Most of the time, he could feel them coming the way a swimmer could feel the approach of something huge beneath the surface of the water. The pressure would start to build, tugging at him like undertow by the shore, and it was always a gamble to see how long he could tarry before the pull yanked him under. ✦ the world is ending and i’m still numb by Arwriter, dick & bruce & jason & tim & alfred & cass & stephanie & damian & barbara & duke & cast, rape aftermath/read the tags, 20.7k      She’s gone, and he’s home, but Dick doesn’t know how to move on. He isn’t alone, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to ask for help. ✦ Up High by CamsthiSky, dick & damian, ~1k      “Grayson, what are you doing up here?” Dick shrugs, a sad smile pulling at his lips. He’d stopped asking that when his feet first started to take him up here years ago. “I like the view.” ✦ here comes the rain again by pocketofsky, dick & jason & tim & damian, rape aftermath/read the tags, 14.1k      Dick doesn’t patrol when it rains. Not since Blüdhaven. And everyone knows that, but they don’t know why. Or: Dick slowly but surely confronts his trauma. Now featuring: a train, pain, and a lot of rain. ✦ Happy Little Bluebirds Fly Beyond the Rainbow (Why Oh Why Can’t I) by honeycombclaire, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass, 26.9k      After being subjected to the Mad Hatter’s dream machine, Dick gets stuck in a dream world where he finally has everything he wants. His parents are alive, his family is together, and he still gets to be Nightwing. Everything is perfect. Using the machine, the Bats invade Dick’s mind to bring him back. They don’t expect to find out just how much Dick has been hurting. ✦ Maybe, just maybe, he should call Bruce…Nah. by memearchive, dick & bruce & jason & tim, rape aftermath/read the tags, 5.8k      “Yeah, 34 deaths, 35 including Blockbuster, is a lot. Yeah, his home and everything he owns is gone. Yeah, his safehouses and everything in those are all ash, too. Yeah, yeah, yeah, he gets it- but he’s dealt with loss before, and maybe 34 is a bit high, and maybe he could have stopped Tarantula, but he’s never been like this before. Not even after his parents’ deaths, and that’s a terrifying thought. Was this really the thing that broke him?” ✦ right through my walls by wingdingery, dick & bruce & barbara & jason & alfred, 6.6k      Sure, yes, Bruce and Jason attacked Dick and left him injured—but they were under the effects of fear toxin, so it wasn’t really them. Dick’s gone enough rounds with fear toxin to understand that. He’s perfectly fine with what happened. Now if only the rest of the family would believe him. ✦ gray by iselsis, dick & bruce, 1k      Grief demands to be felt, but Dick doesn’t have to be alone. ✦ How Far Love Goes by BeatriceEagle, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & barbara, comics violence as child abuse/read the tags, 99.5k      Plenty of family reunions end in fighting. Not that many end in explosions. A mass Arkham breakout brings all of Bruce’s children home, and with them, all the drama, secrets, and anger they’ve been keeping for years. Amidst rising tensions and a mysterious new threat in Gotham, the family has to work together to round up the rogues—and confront their feelings about each other. BATFAM FIC RECS - THROW BABY DICK AT BATTISON, C'MON DO IT, IT’LL BE HILARIOUS: ✦ romanticize a quiet life by lwbones123, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.7k      it’s parent teacher conference day for battinson and his robin ✦ when i call you come home by lwbones123, dick & bruce & alfred & jim, 3.2k      ummm battinson and his robin and angst and hurt/comfort idk how to summarize this one so you just have to trust me ✦ Dark by Cant_Smoke_Eggs, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.9k      aka Baby Dickie thinks Bruce is a Vampire. Bruce thinks he’s figured out he’s Batman. Misunderstandings and Identity reveals ensue. ✦ Just Two Dads Having a Chat by red_jaebyrd, dick & bruce & clark & kon, 1.5k      “I’m not giving you an interview, Kent.” “You always say that, and I always tell you that I’m not here for an interview,” Kent laughed, not at all bothered by Bruce’s aloofness. “We’re just two dads at soccer practice having a chat.” ✦ I Don’t Think Like I Should by shipNslash, jim & barbara & dick & bruce & cast, 13.2k      Featuring unmasking vigilantes as a father-daughter bonding activity, awkward small talk between two dads (both at crime scenes and PTA meetings), and Babs and Dick’s natural progression from classmates to besties in the name of chaos. This is a direct sequel to I’m a Good Pretender but can be read as a stand alone.

[lightlycareless]

I was on Twitter/X and saw someone mention why Naoya is popular among Japanese fans and a big reason apparently is that he speaks in a cutesy dialect that’s only used by girls. And that it’s the kind of way of speaking where girls can insult you and it’s hard to be offended. And now I can only imagine Y/N reacting to this grown man insulting her in this cute dialect 🤭

Heya anon!!!

Yessssss! I quite recently saw a Tiktok talking about that and thought it was really unexpected, but cute at the same time? Ironic for sure too… guess it explains how he got so popular since even the author has called him a total jerk 😂

Unfortunately, I don’t know much about Kansai dialect, nor think there’s an equivalent to it in English, so I’m guiding myself with how it was translated in the manga, and perhaps my delusions too 😏 in order to write the following.

warnings: none.

The first time you notice his peculiar way of speaking would be when you met him many, many years ago, in jujutsu high. Everything about him was highly enthralling, from his appearance to his background, but when he opened his mouth…

Your curiosity ramped up to even higher levels, longing to know everything about him, as well as see the extent of his “cutesy” talk.

And boy, does it not disappoint.

It would happen unexpectedly one day. Let’s say that after a bunch boring classes you eventually grew very hungry and tired. So, after deciding you were long overdue for a break (and because you hadn’t prepared anything beforehand) you head over to the cafeteria to get something to eat and rest.

… a big mistake, because soon after you finish eating, you begin to feel sick, stomach twisting and churning, to the point you don’t think yourself capable of continuing with the rest of your classes.

Naoya is amongst the few that (vividly) notices your extended absence, and while he will never admit it out loud, he was worried that something bad happened to you, thus, he roamed across the school grounds in hopes of finding you.

When he does, you’re sitting by one of the benches, tightly holding onto your stomach as you debate whether to die there or die on the way to the infirmary.

“What’s wrong with you?” Naoya bluntly asks.

“I…. I think I ate something spoiled.” You whimper, barely able to look him in the eye.

“Does your tummy hurt or something?”

“Yes, it’s awful, it’s like I’m being—my what?” you blink—did you hear that right?

“Your tummy.” He repeats, oblivious to your reaction, far more preoccupied with your health. “Does it hurt?”

“My… tummy…?” A smile begins to part your lips, and suddenly, your pain is all but forgotten. “Did you say tummy??”

“I… I did….?” Naoya says, flustered and unsure whether this is something good or not to admit.

He soon finds the answer.

“How adorable!!” you gush, and by now, Naoya is red as a tomato—because he clearly doesn’t want to be seen as adorable by his crush!

“I said stomach!! I meant to say stomach!!” He rushes to defend himself, but it’s too late now, he’s already admitted to the crime.

“Noooo, you said tummy!!” you continue to jest. “My thummy wurts vewy, vewy, bad Naoya-kun…”

“Ugh, you can die out here for all I care…”

“No, wait Naoya!” you gasp, quickly standing up and reaching for me. “Can you at least accompany me to the infirmary? I’ll forget about this, I swear!”

Of course, you don’t let this go so easily, in fact, when the two start dating you continue teasing him about it—but you just couldn’t help it!! It just comes to him so naturally, you had to bring it up anytime you could, you know?

“Why are you upset? Did daddy get mad at you again?” you ask.

“Yes! That old man can’t keep himself out of my—wait, no—don’t call him daddy!” Naoya stammers, you giggle. He’s not ignorant to the times he’s condescendingly referred to Naobito with a that “nickname”, yet it didn’t mean he’d like to hear you calling him that as well!

“Why? Do you prefer I’d call you daddy?”

His breath hitches, something igniting inside him.

“…Not here.”

“Ok” you smile. “I won’t call you daddy, then, daddy. Wouldn’t want you to get angry at me.”

“… keep instigating me, princess, and I won’t reward you later tonight.”

I think the more you delve into this aspect of his, the more you find it adorable, to the point where you find his words a bit less serious; however, you’d eventually grow accustomed to it, and maybe even adopted some mannerisms of your own 🤭

I know you were referring to Naoya insulting Y/N but honestly I have no idea how it would be... I'm as dry as dry can get when it comes to it :'( but I still hope you were able to enjoy this small scenario! Gotta say, watching him say daddy in the manga was unexpected, but got me thinking what other things he'd say in that way, you know?

ironically, I think he might be the best when talking to children because of that—when he's not being his tsundere/rude self.

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! I can't wait to hear how his voice sounds when it's finally animated, I hope they're able to keep his dialect and see what the fuss is all about 🤭😂

Take care, and hope to see you soon!! ❤️❤️

[halfmoth-halfman]

v. she works hard for the money (so you better treat her right)

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: alcohol, sexual harassment, groping, blood, violence Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. prev | next

You don’t know what to expect from shopping with Valeria.

In truth, the woman makes you nervous, but Kyle doesn’t seem to notice your hesitance. He leads you out to his shiny black car, one that reminds you of the vintage cars your father used to work on, holding the door open for you to slide in.

Kyle keeps your hungover state in mind, giving you control of the radio as he drives to your mystery destination. You find something upbeat, singing along softly as you watch the city pass by through the shade of your sunglasses.

It dawns on you how much of the city you haven’t seen. Most, if not all, of your time has been spent in two places: your motel room and the club. You didn’t mind when you had first arrived in the city; you had no intentions of staying as long as you have, so you had no desire to go sightseeing.

Now, though…

You never meant to stay this long, but the more time you spend at the club, you find yourself wanting to leave less and less. There was never a plan for where you would end up, only to get as far away as possible.

You may not be as far as you had initially planned, but you have to admit you feel safer than you have in years.

“You alright over there?” Kyle breaks you from your thoughts with a gentle nudge to your arm.

“Yeah?”

“You just got kind of quiet, is all.” You see the smirk grow on his face as he gives you a quick glance. “If you’re gonna be sick, I can pull over.”

“Don’t worry. Your upholstery is safe.” You roll your eyes while Kyle snickers as he parks in front of a clothing store reminiscent of the high-end boutiques you used to spend so much time in.

Kyle gets out of the car first, and you finish your coffee in the few seconds it takes for him to walk to your side of the car. He opens the car door for you and walks ahead to get the storefront door for you too. Kyle follows you in as you push your sunglasses up onto your head.

“We’re not open!” someone calls out from the back of the store as you walk in.

“It’s just us, Val!” Kyle yells back. The click of heels echoes through the store before Valeria appears, a broad smile on her face.

“This is a surprise,” Valeria smiles, arms crossed over her chest. She’s dressed impeccably, not a single hair out of place. She’d been far drunker than you, yet here she stands, looking as flawless as ever. You swallow down the small knot of jealousy, giving her a smile while Kyle wanders to a case of watches.

“Got time for a fitting?” he asks over his shoulder.

“I already have your measurements,” Valeria says, brows knitting together in confusion, “why do you need—”

“It’s not for me,” Kyle laughs, nodding toward you. Valeria turns to you in surprise, eyes roving over your figure as her smile grows into an excited grin.

Like the cat that ate the canary.

She circles you slowly, talking to herself in quiet Spanish, before she slides her perfectly manicured hands around your arm to pull you toward the back of the store.

“Have fun!” Kyle laughs behind you. You turn around to see him heading back out of the store.

“What? Where are you going?”

He spins on his heel, leaning back against the door to open it with a wide smile. With a wink, he waves his phone at you, leaving the store as Valeria leads you to a large dressing room immaculately decorated in black and gold.

“Stand here.” She pulls you up onto the round fitting-pedestal, leaving you in front of the wall of mirrors. She disappears from the room, but you can hear her heels as she walks around the store. You focus on your reflection while she’s gone, fixing your hair and adjusting your jacket sleeves to be a little more presentable. You doubt Valeria cares about your slight dishevelment; you’re sure she understands more than anything.

“Take off your jacket,” Valeria says as she returns, tailor’s tape in hand. You do as she says, folding your jacket before she takes it from you and sets it aside. She takes her measurements, working quickly and quietly. When she does talk, it’s soft and to herself.

You find yourself in an odd sort of peace, following Valeria’s instructions and letting her work without having to worry about small talk.

You reflect on the many other dressing rooms you’ve spent time in. You always found a sense of excitement in getting dressed up, in getting to choose your favorite colors and fabrics and turning them into something that would make you feel like a million bucks. It had been fun, filled with talking and laughter, but now that you think back on it, how many times have you actually enjoyed yourself? Was it really fun, or was it smiles and giggles to save face—a quick response to preserve your safety?

A dull thrum of pain dances across your left shoulder as Valeria slides her tape across the top of your back, the tips of her fingers skimming over the raised skin beneath your shirt. If she notices, she doesn’t comment.

“If you can, I’d prefer something with sleeves,” you say softly. She gives you a quick glance in the mirror, her sharp gaze sending a shock of anxiety through you. “They don’t have to be long or anything. I just…I would prefer—”

She finishes her measurements of your back, fingers purposely lingering over your left shoulder an extra second longer. You’re sure she feels how your body suddenly tenses, but she meets your eyes in your reflection and smiles—a gentler expression than you thought her capable of.

“Sleeves are no problem,” Valeria smiles, winding the measuring around her hand as she steps down from the platform. “Do you have a fabric preference?” You turn to her this time, allowing yourself to relax and feel a little thrill of excitement.

“What kind do you have?”

Kyle returns to the store three hours later with a sleek black box in hand. He expects to find you and Valeria in the back, possibly in one of the fitting rooms or going over fabrics. He expects to have to search for you.

He doesn’t expect to walk into music blaring over the shop speakers as you and Valeria sit on one of the plush sofas. The two of you laugh, surrounded by bags and boxes, as you sip from a tall glass of something pale green and bubbly. Valeria notices him first, smiling at him over her drink.

“Glad to see you two are getting on,” Kyle laughs, holding the box out to you.

“I get along with everyone,” Valeria smirks up at him while you giggle into your glass.

“Of course,” Kyle scoffs. You take the box from him, and he takes a seat on the sofa across from you and Valeria. You don’t waste time opening it, staring wide-eyed at the sleek, black phone inside.

“It already has everyone’s numbers, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from what will be the first cell phone you’ve owned in years.

“You seem surprised,” Kyle chuckles.

“I…Honestly, I was expecting a flip phone or something.”

Kyle laughs loudly as Valeria sets a hand to her chest, scoffing in disgust.

“My father would’ve killed me,” Kyle laughs.

You roll your eyes, setting the box aside and searching through your jacket for your wallet, “Just tell me how much I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Kyle says in slight surprise, “It’s a gift.”

“She won’t let me pay for the clothes—” You scoff, nodding to a very smug Valeria, “—the least you can do is let me pay for the phone.”

“Aw, my sweet avecita,” Valeria coos, giving you a teasing pout as she leans in closer, “Our little family doesn’t pay for things. Everything’s on the house, or the house burns down.” She leans back, lounging against the sofa with a smirk and a glint in her eyes that tells you she is dead serious. You glance at Kyle, expecting him to laugh it off, but he shrugs and nods at you.

You set your wallet down, tucking it back into your jacket pocket. “Nevermind, then.”

“Just say thank you,” Valeria says, setting her glass on the small side table beside the sofa.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Valeria winks.

“We’ll be taking our leave, then. Gotta get this one set up with Roach and Farah,” Kyle says, pushing himself to his feet and beginning to collect your bags. You finish your drink, gathering the remaining bags before Kyle can get to them. Valeria walks the two of you to the door, holding it open for you.

“I’ll have the rest of the pieces sent to your father,” she tells Kyle, who nods as he loads the backseat with bags.

“And I’ll see you later,” she says, turning to you with a wide smile. “You still owe me a game of pool.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you laugh, giving her a mock salute. She rolls her eyes, batting you on the arm. Kyle takes the rest of your bags, safely tucking them away in the car before opening the passenger door for you.

“Thanks for the help, Val,” Kyle says as you get into the car. Valeria leans against the door, watching Kyle slide into the driver’s seat and start the car. She gives a small wave of her fingers, disappearing back into her store as the car pulls onto the street.

“Alright,” Kyle speaks, looking at you with a small half-smile. “Ready to get to work?”

-

It takes some shifting, but you adjust your schedule enough to be able to rehearse with Farah and Roach and still keep up with your cleaning job. It helps that the others put in a little more effort to keep things cleaner for you, and you do your best to thank them whenever you get the chance.

Your next two months are spent cleaning in the mornings, rehearsing in the afternoons, and shadowing Farah at night. You’re given your own space backstage for your clothes and a place to do your makeup when the time comes.

Outside of work, you find yourself on your phone trying to catch up on the various group chats Soap and Kyle have added you to. It’s a lot for you, but you relish in the busy schedule; the exhaustion lets you sleep easier on your dingy motel mattress, and the sense of freedom, of having your own life, trumps any kind of stress your new working hours may cause.

Rehearsals are a blast. Roach and Farah make it fun for you, Roach teaching you sign language during your breaks, and Farah teaching you a few songs in Arabic.

Your audience consists of Alex, whose attention is almost always on Farah, and Soap and Kyle, the latter being more than happy to cheer you on while the former goes through your phone to change everyone’s contact names and ringtones.

Occasionally Ghost will shadow Price as he joins the others at the bar, watching with amused interest. Price doesn’t say much; he simply watches, offering polite applause when appropriate and leaving before rehearsals end.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you nervous, but it’s a fight figuring out where your nerves stem from.

You want to do good, want to impress the club, but something stirs in the pit of your stomach when you catch those steely blue eyes focusing on you. Yes, you want to impress them, to make them proud, but there’s a baser, far more selfish desire to show Price specifically just how good you are. You want him to notice you.

Don’t get involved with your boss, you remind yourself.

You push the feeling down, trying to keep your composure as Price stays for more and more rehearsals. You put in a little extra effort, pretending not to notice him noticing you and allowing yourself the confidence boost whenever he flashes you a smile.

It isn’t until the fourth week that he stays through the entire rehearsal, walking up next to you with a gentle hand splayed across your back.

“You’re doing a great job,” he murmurs in your ear as he reaches past you to grab a drink from Alex. He lets his hand linger before pulling away with a look that nearly sends you to your knees. You feel the blush that immediately floods your face and catch the smirk on his as he turns away to talk to Farah.

That bastard.

As embarrassed—and slightly turned on—as you are, you take the compliment and ride the high his praise gives you for the rest of the week.

After two and a half months of rehearsing, you lie back on the bed in your motel room, listening to one of the many playlists you and Farah created together as you try to get a quick nap before you have to return to the club. Your phone chimes from where it sits, charging on your tilted nightstand. As you pick it up, it chimes again, the name GAZ popping up on your screen.

You sit up, swiping open the message. It’s two quick, simple messages: Can you come in early tonight? Farah needs your help with something. You don’t see the harm in it; you’ve helped out her and Roach during shows a few times. You reply with a thumbs up that Kyle responds to with a ‘thank you’ and a smiley face.

You freshen up, hurrying out to your car. You listen to your playlist on the way, humming along and tapping to the beat on your steering wheel. When you pull into the back and lock your car, you do your usual double and triple-check before making your way inside.

“Hey!” Alex calls out when you come into view of the bar. He sets a mug on the bar for you, and when you pick it up, the pleasurable scent of lemon and ginger fills your nose. “Farah’s waiting backstage for you,” he smiles.

“Thanks, Alex,” you hum, wrapping your hands around the warm mug and heading toward the stage. You sip from the mug, humming at the delicious taste. “Tea’s great, by the way!” you call over your shoulder, hearing Alex’s laugh as you walk backstage.

You see Farah first, sitting at her vanity as she talks with Kyle and Roach. You pause, not expecting to see anyone beside Farah, and are even more surprised when Valeria walks up, Soap trailing behind her with arms full of your dresses.

“Looks like a party back here,” you laugh.

“There she is!” Soap cheers, setting the clothes down carefully over one of the chairs before pulling you in for a hug. “’Bout time you got here.”

“I’m not even late,” you scoff, playfully pushing him away.

“You're here just in time,” Farah says, smiling widely. You want to smile back, but notice how everyone else matches her grin as they stare at you, Valeria and Kyle appearing extra smug.

“You’re not about to ask me to do something illegal, are you?” you ask, looking between the small crowd of your co-workers and friends.

“Of course not,” Kyle frowns in mock offense.

“Not yet, anyway,” Valeria adds quietly.

“Wha—”

“I’m not performing tonight,” Farah steps in. Your concern for Valeria’s words melts into concern for Farah as your eyes glance over her, looking for any injuries or reason for worry.

“You’re not? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Canary,” Farah laughs lightly.

“Then why aren’t you…”

“Because you’re performing instead.”

If you didn’t have your hand woven through the handle of your mug, you’re sure it would’ve slipped from your grasp.

“I’m…what?”

“You’re taking my place tonight!” Farah smiles, standing from her chair to start sorting through your dresses.

“And if you do well enough, we’ll put you on stage a few nights a week until Farah leaves,” Kyle explains.

“And…Price is okay with this?” You immediately take a sip of your tea after asking, hoping to excuse the warmth in your cheeks with the heat from the drink.

“It was his idea,” Roach signs, shoulders shaking in soft laughter. “And it won’t be for the whole night, just a small set.”

“Think the old man’s got a soft spot for ya,” Soap chuckles.

Ignore him.

Don’t think about your boss.

Your very handsome, tall, strong—

Stop it.

“Well,” you sigh, “guess tonight’s as good a night as any.” You’re met with a chorus of cheers as Valeria ushers the guys out of the room while Farah begins holding up dresses, trying to find the best one for you.

“Put her in something blue,” Valeria says, not even looking at the two of you.

You can’t help but ask, “Why blue?”

“Hasn’t even finished her first performance, and she’s already questioning my fashion choices,” Valeria tisks.

“Means she’s learning,” Farah laughs, sending you a wink as she holds up a dress that’s all baby blue and silk. “Try this on.”

You set your mug down, take the dress from Farah, and move behind one of the screens to change.

You have to admit, Valeria knows what she’s talking about. The dress is exquisite, soft on your skin, and backless with long sleeves, a plunging neckline, and a high slit. Your shoulder is covered perfectly, the fabric gentle against the raised skin.

You step out from behind the screen, Valeria letting out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Told you,” Valeria smirks over to Farah.

Farah leads you to your vanity, sitting you down away from the mirror. You peer over your shoulder, seeing your makeup laid on the vanity. Farah sorts through different eyeshadow palettes, trying to find something to match the color of your dress.

Something gently grazes your right ear, and you jump, flinching slightly away from Valeria’s hand.

“Easy,” Valeria laughs, but her eyes narrow in brief curiosity. It’s a quick flash, easily covered by a polite, professional smile. “I was going to do your hair.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Right of passage,” Farah laughs from your other side. “It’s your first night, so we get to dress you up.”

“Don’t worry, avecita.” Valeria purrs, taking a piece of your hair between her fingers. “It’ll be fun.”

She's right, of course.

Farah does your makeup while Valeria does your hair, the two passing jokes and comments back and forth as they do.

You’re reminded of the few sleepovers you were allowed as a child with the daughters of your father’s acquaintances. You’d always loved those sleepovers, even if you hadn’t been close with the other girls there. You enjoyed the brief sense of normalcy and the fun of going through your mother’s closet to dress up in her finest clothes, those few memories you’ve held close to your heart in the years since.

It’s far more enjoyable with Farah and Valeria. It’s no sleepover, but you feel far closer to them than any of the girls from previous times. They make their makeover enjoyable—like two sisters helping you get ready for a party.

“Alright,” Valeria says as she and Farah take a step back. “All done.”

Farah gives you a once-over, nudging Valeria’s arm and muttering, “Shoes.” Valeria glances down at your boot-clad feet and nods.

“Can you walk in heels?” Valeria asks.

I’ve spent most of my life in stilettos.

“Yeah, no problem,” you smile. Valeria gives a soft hum of approval, walking away and returning seconds later with a pair of strappy, jewel-toned heels. They give you a minute to change your shoes, stepping back as you stand up.

You turn to the mirror, taking in your appearance. If there was a word you would use to describe yourself, it would be stunning. You can’t help the smile as you take the chance to twirl in the dress, admiring the way it sits on your figure.

You haven’t felt this beautiful since—

You try not to tense, smile dropping slightly as you swallow the sudden anxiety and calm your heart.

Taking a deep breath, you catch the eyes of Valeria and Farah in the mirror, the two of them proudly examining their work. You broaden your smile, shaking any memories from your mind as you turn to face them.

“Perfect,” you grin.

“We can practice back here until the show starts,” Farah says, tapping something on her phone before taking a seat at her own vanity. Valeria adjusts your hair one last time, tucking a stray piece behind your ear before she takes her leave, wishing you luck in a voice far more teasing than encouraging.

Roach appears backstage, jaw dropping as he takes in your appearance. “You look great.”

You blush at the compliment before Roach returns to business mode, and he and Farah take the next half hour walking through the setlist with you. It’s all songs you’ve practiced with her and nothing you haven’t done before, at the club or the one before.

As the first noises of the crowd begin to echo through the club, Roach leaves you and Farah. Farah stands, helping you up with a soft smile.

She gets you set up at the microphone, just behind the thick velvet curtains sitting closed on the stage.

“You’re going to do great,” she says gently, squeezing your hands before taking her leave.

Finally alone, you take a deep breath, shut your eyes tight, and roll your shoulders back.

You hear the voice in the back of your mind, murmuring quietly into your ears as the feel of calloused hands ghost over your back.

My sweet little songbird.

Try not to disappoint, darlin'.

You shiver, hands tightening into fists. Focusing on the noise around you, you take another deep breath, absorbing yourself in your surroundings.

He’s not here.

You’re safe here.

You’ve got this.

It has to be enough for you as the music starts, blaring throughout the club. You count yourself in, belting out the first note as the curtains slide open, and you're met with curious faces and excited cheers.

It feels good to sing again.

It feels good to perform.

You let loose, allow this time to be enjoyed and give it your absolute all.

You focus mainly on the bar where Alex, Farah, and, surprisingly, Nikolai cheer you on, applauding after every song.

Sometimes you spot Soap as he serves the patrons, and he makes a point to whistle and wink whenever you lock eyes.

Kyle spends most of his time bouncing back and forth between the bar and the dancefloor, where he twirls around a familiar woman in a beautiful teal dress.

Halfway through your set, you spot Price talking with Nikolai and Ghost hovering nearby. Nikolai claps him on the back, and the two turn to watch you.

Fuck it.

You up your performance—a slight shimmy here, a little shake of your hips there—doing your best to entertain the crowd and tease the hell out of your boss. It works, the dancers whistling and shouting while Price leans back against the bar, legs spread wide as he reclines and drums his finger along his thigh.

Your ego boosted, you continue the show with that same passion until you reach the final two songs. As you reach your last song, you begin to wind down, a little less oomph in your performance.

As you finish, the crowd goes wild. Roach transitions into one of his playlists. The moment the curtains pull shut, you take several hurried steps away from the mic, taking long, deep breaths. You let the adrenaline slow, a wide grin plastered on your face.

You hear the footsteps first before arms wind around your waist and lift you to spin you in a circle.

Roach sets you down, beaming down at you in excitement. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you,” you sign back. Roach’s smile grows wider as he pulls you into another hug before he lets you go and returns to his post.

You pass through backstage, not bothering to change out of your dress. You make your way toward the bar, occasionally being stopped by a patron who offers compliments to your songs or your dress. It takes a few extra minutes, but you make it to the bar, waving off compliments with a bashful smile and polite goodbyes.

“Nightingale!” Soap yells the moment you reach the bar. He lifts you into a bear hug, setting his hands on your shoulders when he sets you down. His eyes rake over your form appreciatively, smirking at you when he reaches your eyes again. “Parents shoulda’ named you Great Tit.”

“You’re showing more chest than I am!” you laugh, playfully slapping him on the chest where he has far too many buttons undone to be appropriate in a normal setting.

“Wasn’t complainin’, Dove,” Soap winks as Alex fills his tray. Soap lifts it, bumping your hip with his as he heads back into the crowd.

“You’re a natural,” Alex laughs, setting two glasses before you. One’s a tall flute of what you assume is champagne, the other a short glass of whiskey.

“What’s this?”

“The tall one’s for you. A celebratory glass for getting through your first show.”

You pluck the glass from the bar top, taking an appreciative sip.

“Who’s the other for?” you ask, leaning forward onto the bar top. A warm palm sets itself on the bare skin of your back, sliding slowly down until it settles on your lower back.

“That one’s for me,” the deep, accented baritone of Price’s voice murmurs into your ear. He leans forward to grab his drink, purposely pressing his body against yours. He settles against the bar next to you, leaning against the bar top with his hip while his hand stays pressed against your back.

“Quite the performance,” he smirks, thumb lightly running back and forth across your skin.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” you smirk back, sipping from your champagne, tongue darting out to swipe the remainder from your lips. He leans forward ever-so-slightly, eyes dipping down to follow your tongue.

“Well, I must say—”

“You were fantastic!” Price pulls away from you as Kyle comes up behind him, beelining straight for you. Kyle pulls you into a small hug, kissing your cheeks lightly. “I knew we made a good decision hiring you.” Kyle sends a pointed look to Price, who raises a hand in mock surrender.

“You were right,” Price chuckles, smoldering gaze boring into you. “She’s perfect.”

Kyle pauses, looking between you and Price before turning fully toward you with a devious grin.

“Fancy a dance?” Kyle asks, nodding back to the dancefloor.

You give Price one last look, setting your glass down and reaching over to grab his, fingers purposely grazing his. You down what’s left of his drink, ignoring the burn as you set the glass down and turn to Kyle with a toothy grin.

“I’d love to dance.” Kyle takes your hand with a laugh, pulling you to the dancefloor.

You get a few dances in with Kyle before Purple Dress, now Teal Dress, reclaims his attention. You don’t mind, as another man is eagerly ready to take his place, twirling you in a circle before pulling you in close.

The next few songs pass in a blur, spinning and dancing with this mystery man. You don’t get his name, but he’s easy on the eyes and dressed from head to toe in designer.

Five songs later, you feel your feet begin to hurt, politely excusing yourself from your dance partner. You don’t head to the bar, instead moving off to the side to lean against the wall near the doors to Price’s office.

Bending slightly, you lift one of your feet, balancing against the wall with one hand and using the other to loosen the straps of your heel.

“Need help with that?”

A body presses up against your back, hands settling on hips, fingertips dipping slightly beneath the open back of your dress. You stand up straight, trying to step away so you can turn to whoever’s behind you, but the stranger’s hands tighten, pulling you back harshly against them.

“I can handle myself,” you speak firmly, setting your hand over theirs and digging your nails into their skin. They hiss, letting go, and you immediately take three steps back.

You whip around, facing the man you’d been dancing with as he massages his hands with a scoff.

“Thought we had something going,” he says, stepping forward.

“We danced,” you say, keeping your voice flat. “It was fun for a while, but we’re done now.”

“Come on, sweetheart.” His arm shoots out, hand wrapping tightly around your upper arm. You pull back on instinct, but the hand tightens to a painful vice.

“Let go of me,” you hiss, trying to pull away. The man rolls his eyes, yanking you forward to wrap his other arm around your waist.

“Think you’ve had a little too much to drink, sweetheart,” he mutters, the hand around your waist moving dangerously low. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, hands vibrating with anxiety. Panic courses through your veins, and you follow the first instinct that comes to you.

You push against his chest, giving you enough distance to reach up and slap him, digging in your nails to claw at the stubbled skin of his cheek. He releases you with a shout, pressing a hand against the bloodied scratches on his face. His eyes land on you, angered glare filled with malicious intent.

“You stuck-up bit—”

A massive body blocks your view as the man cries out in pain.

“You okay?” You turn to the right, where Ghost stands, holding a cautious hand toward you.

“Ye—um, yeah. I’m fine,” you stammer. Ghost seems unconvinced but nods as someone groans in pain. You both turn as König picks up the man who had grabbed you by his collar, the man’s nose pouring blood.

“Please do not touch the staff,” König says, his usually soft-spoken tone suddenly far more threatening than friendly.

“Fuck, I think you broke my nose,” the man groans.

“Consider yourself lucky that’s all we broke,” Ghost spits before turning to König. “Get him outta here.”

König nods, roughly pulling the man to his feet and dragging him toward the front doors of the club.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ghost asks once König and the man are out of sight.

“A little shaken up, but I’ll be alright. Thanks.” He sets a cautious hand on your shoulder, and you send him a small smile.

“We’ll be closing soon, you oughta get changed.”

You nod once, then again more confidently, as you feel his hand lightly tap your shoulder. He walks beside you to the backstage door, only departing once he’s sure you’re inside.

You move on autopilot, grabbing your clothes and stripping out of your dress. You change back into your jeans and shirt, sighing in relief as you slip off your heels and put your boots back on. You don’t bother with your hair or makeup, deciding to deal with that when you return to your motel.

You step back out, heading straight for the bar keeping your eyes forward.

The club is winding down, the bulk of patrons gone now with the few remainders getting in their last drinks.

“Hey!” Kyle cheers as you approach the bar. He slings an arm around your shoulders, leading you to the small group formed at the end of the bar: Alex, Farah, Valeria, and Teal Dress.

The group cheers as you approach, raising glasses in your direction.

“I told you you’d do great.” Farah hands you a glass with a proud smile. You don’t drink from it, setting it down on the bar with a shy smile.

“I think a couple of us are going out for a few more celebratory drinks before heading home,” Kyle says, sidling up to Teal Dress and setting a hand around her waist. “If you’d like to join us.”

“No, thanks. I think I’m gonna head home.”

“You sure?” Alex asks, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that gets a small giggle out of you.

“I’m sure,” you nod. “If someone could walk me out to my car, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Easily done,” Valeria says with a casual wave. She turns around, glancing around the club until she spots Alejandro holding the front door open for the last few patrons. She lets out a shrill whistle, Alejandro’s head snapping toward the group.

After the last patron leaves, he closes the door, locking it behind them before going over to you. Valeria meets him halfway, whispering to him. You see him glance at you before he says something back to her. She blinks in mild surprise before her jaw sets, and she huffs.

She turns away from him, heading back to the bar with a clearly forced smile directed at you.

“Alejandro will walk you out.”

You want to ask, but the aura of anger oozes off her in violent waves, and you decide against it.

“Okay,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself and running your hands up and down your arms. You startle when you touch bare skin, realizing you’ve left your jacket backstage.

“I’ve gotta grab something real quick. I’ll meet you out front?”

Alejandro nods, and you hurry backstage. You grab your jacket, pull it on, and fold the sleeves up to your elbow. You take another minute to check your reflection, shaking out the nerves skating beneath your skin.

“You’re okay,” you tell your reflection. You give yourself a sharp nod, turning away and heading back into the club. The group is gone, presumably having left for their celebratory drinks, the house lights dimmed significantly down.

You check your pockets, making sure you have your phone, wallet, and keys as you slowly head toward the door.

“Please!”

You stop, hearing the pitched whine behind you. You turn around, eyes searching the almost darkness for the source of the noise.

You wait a few seconds, ears straining to hear something else.

It takes almost ten solid seconds before you hear it again. A harsh grunt, this time followed by the low murmur of several voices.

The source isn’t a mystery, coming from behind the slightly cracked door of Price’s office. You glance back at the front door, turning back to the office.

Alejandro’s waited this long. He can wait a little longer.

You creep toward the office, the grunting and pleading growing louder the closer you get. You press against the closed door, peering in through the crack. Pushing the door slightly more open gives you a better view of the office.

The lights are low in the office, the only reliable source coming from the lit fireplace. Valeria lounges on one of the sofas, sitting across from Nikolai, while Ghost lurks in the back near the bookcase. All three are focused intently on the center of the room, where a man sits tied to a chair with his face beaten to a bloody pulp.

Head lolled to the side, the man groans, blood dripping from his mouth as he tries to speak.

Standing before him, knuckles bruised, blood splattered from his hands, up his arms where his sleeves have been rolled up, onto his chest where the top buttons have been undone, and across his cheeks is Price. Tiny beads of sweat drip down his face into those cold and uncaring blue eyes.

“Let’s go over the rules of my club one last time, shall we?”

Price sets a hand on the back of the chair, tilting it onto its back legs so the man is forced to look up at him.

“One—” Price holds up a finger, “—No guns, no knives, no weapons.”

The man tries his best to hold Price’s gaze, but his head lolls back, falling over the back of the chair. He’s not as easy on the eyes anymore, but you clearly recognize the man who had grabbed you as he blinks hazily, trying to process the things around him.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips. Covering your mouth to dampen the sound, you freeze in the doorway. No one in the office moves, so you keep your place, doing your best to stay quiet as you watch the scene before you.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that.” Price slaps the man’s cheek before gripping his jaw and pulling the man's face down to look him in the eye. The man groans, tapering off into a pained whine. “You hear me, yeah? You’re still running your mouth, so I know you’re not unconscious yet.”

The man groans again, and Price huffs, dropping the chair and stepping back.

“Don’t think we’re getting anywhere with this one,” Price tells his small audience.

“Well,” Price sighs, “S’pose we’ll just skip to the most important rule since that’s the one you seem to be having trouble with.” Price rolls back his shoulders, flexing his hand before delivering a final, solid punch to the man’s face. Something cracks as the man breaks down into muffled sobs.

Price rolls his eyes, gripping the man's short hair and pulling his face up. Price stares down at him for a quiet moment before he tilts his head and lifts his gaze to stare directly into your eyes as he speaks to the man.

“You don’t touch what’s mine.”

taglist: @sleepyendymion, @blazedprince, @blueoorchid, @ohgodthebogisback, @melancholyy-hill, @wasteland-babe, @meepetteoneonly, @anitaebee, @honeyr4ven, @curasimp, @jxvipike, @frazie99, @reiya-djarin, @urfavsunkissedleo, @hauntingtherosebush,@aerangi, @ofmenanduhhhwellmen, @warners-wife, @xx4rcticxx, @mundane-frogola, @marytvirgin, @nyooom, @gogh-with-the-flow, @arctic-writes, @thriving-n-jiving, @deadpoetsandhoney, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @blurpleuni-squid

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

Kill me slowly, Baby you know I don’t fucking mind

warnings: vent fic about illness, mildly graphic depictions/imagery of physical and mental illness

tim drake centric

title: life waster by corpse (don’t look at me ok im embarrassed)

word count: 912

beta read and edited by the lovely @vespertilionis

Do not cry. Do not cry.

That’s all Tim can tell himself as he stiffly walks back to his car. He knows how this is going to go, he’s not too sure why he got his hopes up. He feels like an idiot.

Finally, in the safety of his car, he actually looks down at the referrals he has been given. One for a CT scan and the other for an overabundance of blood tests. He didn’t ask for either. All he wanted was a referral to see an ENT, but the doctor hadn’t even looked at him before she started talking over him and suggesting other ideas.

There’s a few things we can do before you see an ENT. It’s been a year since he started feeling like this. All he wanted was to see a specialist, someone who would know what was wrong.

It’s probably not what you think it is. Probably?

You’re crazy, nothing is wrong with you.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothingiswrongnothingiswrongnothingiswrong

He throws the referrals across the car before slamming his fist into the steering wheel and letting out the loudest scream he could.

It peters off into a sob when he realises he can’t hear anything. Well, anything but a high ringing. He sits there hyperventilating in his own version of silence.

He calls the CT place while driving, desperately trying to sound like he hasn’t been crying. He almost breaks down when the receptionist mentions he had the same test done around this time last year.

As he pulls into the driveway of the manor, he takes a moment to calm down. Firstly, because he doesn’t want to talk about it, and secondly, because he feels guilty for being upset. At least the doctor was running tests. Sure, she didn’t really listen to him and suggested tests for allergies and anemia, which he is sure he didn’t have, but she still decided to do tests. Other people have been sick for years and don’t have doctors listen to them, so he should be grateful.

Maybe she doesn’t think he’s crazy.

He tries not to think about the fact that if the CT scan comes back and shows his sinuses blocked, the doctor might put him on his fourth round of antibiotics. Even after the other three rounds have completely tanked his immune system. Or that if the blood tests show he is anemic, she might focus on that instead of the actual problem. Like the horrible constant congestion that makes him feel like his brain is being compressed into a liquid that’s going to explode out of his ears and nose. Or that if he does have the disease he thinks he does, he might lose his hearing. He really doesn’t want to think about that part.

When he enters the manor, he heads straight for the cave. He’s hoping for the perfectly healthy distraction of vigilantism. His hopes are immediately crushed when Bruce turns to him and asks him how the appointment went.

“Oh, uh, it went ok. We’re redoing some of the tests we did last year,” he says awkwardly, wishing for once Bruce would notice he didn’t want to talk about it. Once again, his wishes go unheard as the older man just looks concerned.

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

No shit, man, no clue how you got the title of world’s greatest detective.

He tries to push away the resurfacing anger by laughing, but it comes out wrong.

“Yeah well, last time the results didn’t really get us anywhere. So, I was kinda hoping she would try something else.” Another laugh. Bruce nods and turns away. Either he finally got the hint or doesn’t know where to go with Tim’s response.

Relieved that the conversation is finally over, he starts heading to the computer when he hears Jason scoff.

“Ya know what I think you need? Some concrete to harden you up.”

Harden you up. Fucking whiny baby.

Harden you up. Ungrateful child.

Harden you up. Nothings wrong with you Tim, you’re out of your mind.

Tim stops in his tracks and turns his head slowly to face the older boy.

“What?” he says coldly, causing Jason to raise his hands in surrender.

“Hey! I was just joking with you.” he laughs, and Tim’s eye twitches.

“No, explain it to me, so I can understand how it was supposed to be funny.” He can feel the anger rising again. Jason lowers his arms, looking guilty for his ‘joke’, but Tim couldn’t care less.

“I just meant that you complain a lot. It’s kinda miserable.” He answers, sounding defeated, but again Tim couldn’t care less.

“Why do you think that is Jason? Do you think I’m complaining because it’s fun?” “No—“ “No! I’m not! I am fucking miserable! I’m exhausted and dizzy and I feel like my brain is rotting in my skull! And I’m sick of people not listening to me and thinking I’m fucking CRAZY!”

His throat hurts from screaming. He’s hyperventilating again, but he can’t hear it over the sound of the ringing again. It hurts. He shakes his head to try and clear it, but it just makes the world spin around him. A hand reaches out to steady him but he pushes it away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” God, his voice is always so much louder when his ears are blocked.

He stumbles up the stairs, knowing he’s probably stomping, but he can’t hear that either.

[bookshelf-dust]

really know him

part i part ii part iii part iv

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,686

warnings: swearing, reader has a shitty mom, a few uses of y/n, anxiety, fluff and angst

a/n: hi! listen, i know, i know, it’s been more than a month since i published part two and i’m sorry. but i promise it won’t take as long anymore. i hope you like this part! there’s a lot going on. it’s getting messy, my dudes. love you! <333

————

Your room is small. And you don’t mind that one bit. Hell, you’re lucky your parents snagged one of the few single-wide’s with a layout nice enough that there even are two bedrooms. 

But sometimes the small space can seem confining, like right now. 

You’ve been staring at college-ruled paper for what seems like forever now, and…you’ve got nothing. You spent all day brainstorming for this essay, and now that you’ve sat down, you’ve lost it all. It’s as if there isn’t a single coherent thought left in your brain. 

You hop up from your seat, thinking that if you get a drink, maybe listen to some music, then you’ll be able to get a hold on your concentration. 

And it works, for a while. You’ve been at your desk for well over an hour, and you’ve put a hell of a dent in your paper. 

But having your headphones on means you don’t hear your parents come home, not until your mother is smacking her fist against your door frame to get your attention. 

“Hello?”

You’re quick to push the pause button in on your walkman and put your headphones on the tabletop in front of you. The amount of eraser shavings you’ve accumulated is unsettling. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Your mother lets out what you're sure is the most dramatic sigh known to man. “Of course you didn’t, not with those things on your ears.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better about it, okay?”

She crosses her arms, leaning against the wall just inside your room. “Mhm. How’s your paper going?”

“It’s fine. Not due for a week.”

“So you’ve said. Anyways, I came in here because I was at the store yesterday, and Sherri caught up with me.”

“Oh, yeah? How is she?”

Sherri Henson is a bitch. She’s the kind of woman who peaked in high school and can’t seem to grasp that—even if she is well into her fifties by now—spending all her time corralling the neighborhood gossip. She’s lived a couple trailers down from you your whole life. And she’s yet another reason why you need to get the fuck out of dodge. 

“Oh, she’s fine. She just wanted to tell me that she’s seen you hanging out with that Eddie Munson boy. And I haven’t heard good things about him. I just wanted to know what you were up to.”

Your stomach drops. Of course she’d say some shit like that. “We’re friends. I’m allowed to have those, aren’t I?”

“Yes. But don’t you think it would be wise to make good friends?”

You rub at your forehead, already sick of this. There’s a reason you don’t tell your mother anything about your life. 

“You don’t know anything about him, do you?”

Your mother pushes her glasses up into her mess of hair. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really understand how you can be judgmental of a guy you don’t even know. You’re always whining about how I don’t have friends, and now that I’ve made one, he’s not good enough?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I just don’t want you to harm your education by hanging around some good-for-nothing boy.”

“I think I can make my own decisions.”

“Clearly not. Look at you.” She doesn’t say anything more, but leaves the room instead. 

You should be used to this. You should know that your mother doesn’t like that you aren’t a carbon copy of her. But it still stings. The feeling is drowning you; the feeling of being pathetic, unsuccessful, embarrassing. 

You need a minute. It’s not like you can concentrate on your paper here anyways. Your mother has already shut herself up in her own bedroom, and you know she won’t miss you if you’re not around. 

A lift of the blinds in your bedroom tells you that Eddie’s van is parked outside his trailer, but you don’t feel right just running over, so you call. 

Of course he picks up.

He hasn’t even said his name yet and you’ve already started talking. “Eddie?”

“Hey, yeah, something wrong?”

You sound frazzled. If Eddie’s being totally straight with himself, he might even say you sound a little panicky. Claustrophobic, maybe.

He doesn’t like hearing you sound like this. 

“Would it be okay if I came over for a bit? You can say no, I just…your company might help.”

You can feel that cocky ass grin from over the phone. The way your words register in his brain and he comes up with a response he knows will get you riled up.

“Oh, my company? That what you need?”

“Eddie,” he can practically see you waving him off, “nevermind.”

He laughs. “Okay, sorry. Yeah, you can come over. You didn’t have to ask. Could’ve just busted in.”

“That seems like a horrendous idea. And isn’t Wayne home?”

“Yeah, but he sleeps like the dead. He wouldn’t even notice. That’s what he gets for having me around after all this time.”

“Poor Wayne.”

He scoffs and stumbles over his words. “Poor Wayne? 

“Yeah, I feel for him, having to put up with you all these years. Anyways, I’ll be there in a second.”

“You little shit–” he starts, but you’re already hanging up. 

Eddie opens the door closest to his room to watch for you. You bound across the road and up the concrete step, clearly pleased with yourself. He backs up, that stupid ass grin on his face, and gestures with his arm for you to go inside. 

He notices you’ve brought your bag with you. “Plotting my murder?” he inquires, eyes dancing over the corduroy. 

“Absolutely. Any sort of preference?”

He sits down on his bed, back to the wall. “Maybe the candlestick? Rope could be fun. Or if you’re feeling particularly malicious: poison.”

“Remind me to never play Clue with you.”

He laughs and it’s low and drawn out like he knows he’s being annoying. Like he knows you enjoy it. 

“Why, because you know I’ll kick your ass?”

You smile at him, and it feels like he’s won the lottery. “Precisely.” 

“I’d go easy on you,” he argues. 

“Bullshit.”

Eddie watches you fiddle with the zipper on your bag and then pull out a piece of paper. You flop down in his desk chair, making yourself at home. He’s told you to do that more than once, so he’s glad to see you act on it. 

“What are we working on?”

“I’m supposed to be finishing a paper, and that’s what I was doing, but being berated doesn’t really help my focus.”

He chuckles, opening a bag of Skittles you didn’t even know he had. “I wouldn’t think so. You wanna talk about it?”

“No, that’s okay.” 

Eddie nods, hoping you’ll open up to him sooner than later. 

“Would you prefer if I just went about my business while you worked?”

“I really would, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Mhm. Anything you need, sweetheart.”

He hops up, and his fingers go to mess with the radio, but he stops himself short. “Will this bother you? If I keep it low?”

You shake your head, tapping your eraser on the desk. He gives you a frantic thumbs up before trying to make sure the music doesn’t murder your hearing. 

It’s on some rock station, where some of the songs are ones you’re familiar with, others not so much.

“Good?” he asks, and you return his earlier thumbs up. It makes him grin.

He settles back on his mattress, though it groans in protest as he does. He scratches away at a notebook for a while, and the room stays quiet. Just being in the same room as him is enough to keep you calm and give you time to focus.

You make more progress on the paper now then you had at home, and start to think maybe you should do all your work in Eddie’s company.

Eventually Eddie gets bored and pushes up, his hands coming to rest against the desk on either side of you, caging you in. He kisses the top of your head before resting his chin on it, peering down at your paper.

“Damn. Almost done?”

“Yeah. Should probably quit and come back to it later anyway.” 

“Wanna see something fun?” You look up at him and he’s got a wild look in his eyes, a wide smile on his face. 

“I don’t know if I trust that.”

“Oh, come on. Take a break. For me?” Eddie bats his eyelashes and you smack him on the arm. He stands and stumbles backwards as if you’ve brutally wounded him, though the smile stays and really ruins the act. 

“Fine. Let’s see.”

He’s got this brilliant, boyish look on his face. You can tell he’s excited. It’s the kind of excitement that rubs off on you, that makes you anxious to know what it’s for, even if it is something small. 

He moves to the corner of his room and opens this big chest that you might not have even noticed because of how much surrounds it. You realize, though, that there’s a handful of Dungeons and Dragons handbooks, a binder covered in stickers, other things you don’t entirely understand.

Eddie digs around for a second, and then he pulls out a little velvet bag. He brandishes it to you, shaking it a little. Whatever’s inside makes noise.

“I got new dice. And I know what you’re thinking, ‘Eddie that’s so amazing, I can’t believe you’d share this with me,’ but believe it, because they’re cool, okay? Prepare yourself.”

You take a dramatically over exaggerated deep breath, gearing yourself up. “Ready, Eddie.”

He snorts. He can’t believe you. 

He dumps them out next to you on his bed. “Ta-da!”

You pick one up, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t squeal. The dice are a translucent red color, with black numbers, and they’ve got little bats set into them. 

Fucking bats. 

You look up and Eddie’s big brown eyes are shining down at you. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, clearly trying to contain himself.

“Eddie, these are so cool!”

He throws himself on the bed beside you. “They’re sick, right?” 

You pick up a handful, looking at all of the different ones as they roll around between your fingers. “Yeah. These are fucking cool, dude.”

Eddie giggles. He giggles. His glee is palpable. 

“I’m honored that you wanted to share this with me, Mr. Munson.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, scooping them up and putting them back in the bag. “I don’t just go showing my dice to anyone, you know.”

You laugh, hard, and it’s the first time Eddie’s heard you laugh like that. He thinks he could live off of the sound. He wouldn’t need anything else. 

“Well I’m glad you showed them to me.”

Eddie winks at you. “Me too.”

————

Eddie doesn’t hear from you for a few days, but it doesn’t worry him really. He knows you're busy with school, and he is too, now that he’s trying to get the hell out of there for real this time. He’s also working on a big ass campaign. He thinks this might be the one where Dustin’s character finally dies, the little fucker. He’s managed to kill off everyone else’s characters at least once (Gareth a few more), but never Dustin.

He does miss you, though.

Eddie is finding that he doesn’t like being without you as much as he likes being with you. 

He’s starting to show you parts of himself that he hasn’t shown other people before. He usually doesn’t have the ability to sit quietly in a room with someone else. Or watch for fucking bats. Hell, he built a fort for you. 

And he’s laying in bed, well past the time he should be asleep, thinking about how he doesn’t feel like you’re letting him get to know you like he is you. 

Eddie’s room is dark except for the light coming in through the window. He goes to rest his hand on his chest, but cold metal meets his bare skin and he’s quick to unsnap the bracelet he left on his wrist. 

He knows what you’re in school for. He knows you’re into bats. That you laugh at stupid, immature shit just like he does. Shit you’d get in trouble for laughing at. 

But if what he’s feeling, deep down, is what he thinks it is, he wants to give all of himself to you. And he wants all of you. 

He really does. 

And something about the way you held him that night that you stayed over told him you felt more. He can see you letting go sometimes. But more often it feels reluctant. 

Eddie just wants you to know that he’s not going anywhere. That he wants you safe. Happy.

He wants you for you.

Not for whatever else anyone tells you.

You are everything he’s ever wanted.

You.

————

“How’d you do on your paper?” Eddie asks. You’d told him when it was due, and just now that you’d gotten it back.

“Fine.”

“Fine? That’s all I get?”

Something’s wrong with you today. He’d invited you over for lunch, and you’d come, but the smile you gave him at the door wasn’t genuine. Something is hurting you, and you haven’t told him what. 

And it’s killing him.

He can’t help you if you won’t let him. 

You set down your drink, a little harder than you’d meant to, and sigh. 

Fuck, Eddie thinks. The last thing he wants to do is frustrate you. 

“I got a B.”

His eyebrows raise over the enormous bite of sandwich he’s just taken. He decides to behave and chew it all before he speaks. Wayne might not get the same treatment.

“Oh yeah? That’s so good! I’m proud of you.”

You nod your head, but you don’t look at him. If he’s being honest, it kind of hurts his feelings.

“You might be the only one,” you mumble. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s…it’s nothing, Eddie. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He grabs the bag of chips out of your hand before you can shove your mouth full of them, and you look incredibly offended. 

“Don’t do that. Tell me what you meant.” Eddie’s voice is serious. He’s never spoken to you like this before. 

You run your hands over your face. “My mom. She told me I could’ve done better than that.” You don’t say that she also said it was probably a result of spending so much time with Eddie. 

Eddie sets your bag of chips back down. “That’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“You’re a total badass, and I know you’re hard working as shit. If she can’t see that, then fuck her man.” 

You won’t look at him. 

You won’t look at him. 

“You can’t listen to that shit, man. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this, Eddie.” He cocks his head at you, brown eyes boring into yours. “And it’s not exactly easy, just ignoring it. I’ve heard it for years, that I could be trying harder or doing something differently or anything, so it’s like fuckin’ ingrained in my brain. And sometimes I think it’s true.”

Eddie reaches across the table for your hand, his laying palm-up, waiting for you to accept it. You limply supply your hand to him, and he pushes his thumb into the center, rubbing in slow circles. He’s hoping the contact might be enough to pull you out of your head some. 

“Look at me,” Eddie says. 

You're quick to think about the night he found you moping on the bench. He’d said that then too. 

“Look at me.”

You shake your head again. 

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make fun of you,” he says, and you believe him, though really looking at him and his big brown eyes is enough to wash a surge of sadness over you. 

Eddie uses his thumb to wipe the fresh tears from under your lashes, grazing the tip of your now stuffy nose with his knuckle. You wrinkle it and he grins. 

Eddie’s thinking about it too. How upset you’d looked. How upset you look now. But he also remembers something else. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really, no.”

You hadn’t wanted to talk about your feelings then, and that was understandable because you hadn’t seen the guy in forever. But it’s different now. Isn’t it? Eddie feels differently for you. And he can see that you care about him, obviously, but what if he’s reading this wrong? What if you don’t want him as anything other than a friend?

This time though, you do look up at him. “It’s not true. I know your brain is telling you that, and maybe you even hear your parents saying that shit, and if your mind works anything like mine does–and I think it does–then I know it’s so fucking annoying, and you can’t do anything without hearing some negative response.”

“But it isn’t true. You work your ass off, and you’re kind and caring, and I’m sorry, but I can’t have you thinking otherwise, you hear me?”

You nod your head, and Eddie’s quick to swipe up the tear he sees fall, before you even know you’re crying. 

He gets up, coming over to where you're sitting and crouching in front of you. He puts his hands on your knees, but you push them off and stand, forcing him to follow so that he doesn’t bust his ass. 

You wipe your face off, drag your hands across your jeans, the feeling of Eddie’s hand on yours still burning through your nerves. 

“Eddie, I think I’m gonna go home.”

Something about this, about the tone in your voice, how resigned you sound, makes Eddie frustrated. 

He doesn’t move from his place in front of you. He can’t just let this go. He isn’t wired that way. 

“So this is how it’s gonna go, huh?”

You blink at him. “What are you talking about?”

He puts his hands on his hips, and he knows he looks like Wayne, he knows it, but he can’t find it in himself to care right now. 

“You come over, you’re upset, but you won’t talk to me about it, and when you do start to talk about it, you give me vague answers and you shrug it off. That’s not talking, Y/N.”

“This is hard for me, Eddie! I don’t know what to do with myself when someone wants to listen to me, okay?”

“I understand that, but you’ve gotta at least try.”

“Try what?”

“Letting me in, for fucks sake! I can’t fucking help you, if you won’t let me in!”

Eddie sounds exasperated. And now you’re both shouting at each other. Shouting.

“Eddie, I–”

“Listen, just give me a second. You wouldn’t talk about what happened that night you stayed over except vaguely–and that’s okay with me–but then you wouldn't talk to me the other day, either. And now you’re just…I feel like you’re shutting me out.”

“I want to help you, and I know it takes time to open up, but I know that you know you’re safe with me. And I want to help make it better. I want you, Y/N, and I just–why won’t you let me in?”

It feels like your heart has stopped. Like he’s messing with you. But you know better than that. And you should’ve known that was coming at some point. 

“Eddie, don’t say that.”

“Say what?” He wants to hear the words leave your mouth. 

You mess with your fingers, and he grabs your hands to get you to quit. “That you want me, Eddie. You can’t just say that.”

“And why can’t I, huh? Because it involves feelings? Y’know those things that you won’t share with me?”

You step a little ways back from him, but you’re still cornered. He knows that stung, but if he hadn’t said it now, he might never have at all. 

“Eddie, you can’t actually want me. You’ve said it yourself, I’m incapable of being open and not fucking things up! Look at what we’re doing!”

“And what if I do want you? What then?”

“Then I don’t know!” you yell, louder than you’d intended. 

Eddie moves away from you then, sitting back down, and crossing his arms. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, despite the fact that you’re arguing. 

“I never said you were fucking things up. And I didn’t say you were incapable of being open,” he breathes. “That’s all I want, for you to be open with me. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me, like you have to let that shit eat you alive.”

“But aren’t I? Fucking it up? Eddie, you’re the only friend I’ve got and you’re being honest with me and all I’ve done is fuss at you. That’s like, the definition of fucking things up.”

“You’re not. I just want you to let me in.”

You’re both quiet for a minute. You walk around the trailer, cleaning up your lunch and grabbing your things. It’s mindless, and you’re not even sure you want to go home. 

“I meant what I said,” Eddie starts. “I do want you. And I mean as more than just a friend. I’m—” I’m falling in love with you. But he doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say that he wishes he’d said so sooner. That he’d told you in high school. None of that matters now. He wants you, and he thinks he always will. 

“I would never lie to you about that,” he says. 

You take a shaky breath. “I know that you wouldn’t, Eddie. I just…I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me. You do know.”

“I think maybe you should want someone who’s not so much trouble.”

And Eddie can’t say anything, because you’ve already turned and rushed down the stairs, the door slamming shut behind you. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @ajkamins @golddustwitches @copycatkillerfics @prestinalove @zaypay @clovermunson @kelsiegrin @storiesbyrhi @avalon-wolf

[yourpalmickeymouse]

Mickey helllo!! ☀️ how long has it been since I was here the last time? (The last time I asked you was… months ago haha!) I’ve been busy with my life and well, let’s just say a lot has happened to me! 😄

Okay enough about me, I wanna ask you something, it’s actually have to do about well. Your height (if that’s okay for me to ask!),

Do you get tired of being small? I can feel not many people would take you seriously for your size or would make fun of you height for laughs… (is it also a genetic thing in your family where your relatives are also the same height as you?)

But to me, I don’t think you’re small at all. Physically yes but I know deep down you have a big heart that would never stop trying to help the people they care and cherish the most! :D (that’s all I got Mickey, it’s great to be back here once again! I’ll be sure to stop by again pal!)☀️

Hiya Sunny,

It's swell to hear back from you again. It has been quite a while, hasn't it? Though to be honest, I've also been pretty busy with all these crooks runnin' around Mouseton. Sometimes it feels like they're tryin' to break a world record on the most amount of crime they can commit within a couple of months. It's real annoyin'.

As for your question... ha... I was wonderin' when this would pop up. Don't worry 'bout askin'. I love answerin' 'em all. 😊

When it comes to my height, I guess I could see why someone would see it as a flaw. To be honest, the world I live in doesn't always seem to have people of my height in mind. Outside of havin' a heck of a time gettin' a car where I can reach the pedals, I have to bring my own stool whenever I go to the market since whatever I want is always, always, on the highest shelves. It's real annoyin' at times. But there are benefits too. If anythin' I think it offers me a bit of unique perspective that not a lot of people get. Sometimes I feel like I can be a bit more agile and fit into places most others can't. Also if I can't find something I like in the men's section of the clothing store I can always go to the kid's section and find somethin' there, ha ha. The clothes are usually cooler there anyway.😉

I think with the right mindset, you can do anything no matter what size you are.

As for where it comes from, it's definitely genetic but also very random. My Uncle Jeremy is short like me and yet my sister and Aunt Melinda are tall. I guess it would seem only the men in my family seem to be short, but based on past family reunions, that doesn't always hold up. To be honest it seems to vary wildly in mice in general. Even Minnie's family can be all over the place. It kinda makes me wonder if there's a size fairy that goes around to all the baby mice, randomly decidin' whether to make them short or tall🧚. Ha ha, Wouldn't that be funny? Maybe I should see if they can make a last-minute change.

Though seriously, as I said before, my height doesn't really bother me. Or at least it doesn't now. I'd like to say that it hasn't caused me any problems outside of high shelves... but that would be a lie. As you mentioned, I've definitely been ridiculed or not taken seriously for my height sometimes. I feel like I'm constantly havin' to prove myself and show that I'm more than capable of doin' what someone a little taller can.

Sometimes there's an advantage in people's underestimatin' ya, at least when I'm fightin' bad guys. But when I was younger and had lower confidence, it would really get to me. I remember readin' or hearin' somwhere 'bout how you could grow real tall if you eat a bunch of yams. So I used my allowance to buy a ton of yams and started eatin' 'em all in one sittin'. Of course, it didn't work and all I got was really sick. But after a nice talk with my sister and my aunt, I learned that nothin' was wrong with my size and I'm fine just the way I am. A bit cliché, but a much-needed message I still keep close to my heart.

Talkin' 'bout hearts, I appreciate you sayin' I have a big one. I definitely do try my best when it comes to carin' about others and makin' the world a better place. And ya know what, I think that's what really matters. We can't pick our own size, but we can pick the size of the positive impact we make on the world.

Thanks a bunch for the questions. I hope to see ya real soon.

- M.M.

[bow-of-aros]

Day Twenty: Tease

Summary: Ted and Steph bonding time!

And Peter is the unfortunate victim.

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Hey folks! The Hatchetfield brainrot is real and I hope that nobody's getting sick of these fics yet. The Spankoffski bros own my entire heart at the moment and I need to write about them all the time. Enjoy!! <33

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“Ugh, this is so boring! I honestly don’t understand how you can enjoy this shit, Pete.”

Peter looked up from his homework that he had positioned around himself on his bed to Steph who had claimed his desk when she’d walked in. He’d been working through the practice questions they’d been given for the math test later this week while Steph was writing an essay for her English class.

Peter tapped his pencil against his worksheets as he said, “It’s really not that bad! You just gotta get into a groove and then it’s done before you know it.”

Steph shoots him a flat look that Peter returns with a grin.

A grin that promptly drops when Steph says, “We should take a break, reset our brains, and start again with fresh eyes.”

Peter let that sentence hang in the air for a moment as he brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

“Steph,” He sighs, “We’ve already taken three breaks. We started two hours ago. Our last break literally ended ten minutes ago. Are you sure that you can’t try to work for a little bit longer?”

His only answer was a long, drawn-out groan and Peter turned back to his work, considering the matter closed.

It was very much not closed when two hands dug into his sides, drawing out a high-pitched shriek that Peter would deny to his dying day that he made.

“Wait! Steheheheph nononono! Why?!”

Peter attempted to curl up while not disrupting the papers scattered around him, reaching behind him in a desperate attempt to push her hands away.

All she does is move further out of his reach and up his ribs and say, “I just wanna take a break, Pete! You’re always wound up so tight, you really need to relax a bit.”

As Steph moves up, Peter’s laughter grows louder, “We just toohohohohok a break! We need to stUDY— Steheheheheph!”

Her fingers find the spot between his shoulder blades and he starts thrashing, mindless of the mess he’s making of his bed and the schoolwork that used to be on it.

“I dunno, Pete. I think we should—”

“Can you two shut the fuck up?” Ted suddenly bursts through the door, flinging it open so it crashes into the doorstop, “I’m trying to—”

Everyone freezes for a moment as Ted takes in the scene.

“Oh.”

Shit. “Ted. Ted, don’t.”

“Ohhhhhhhh.” The classic Spankoffski shit-eating grin starts spreading across his face and Peter is fucked.

Ted makes his way over to the bed where Peter is still trapped underneath Steph and perches himself next to his little brother. Steph is still just sitting there, waiting to see where this leads.

“Hey, Steph. Nice to finally meet you in person. You want some help with that?

Her face lights up, “Hell yeah!”

“Fuck no!” Comes Peter’s simultaneous response, but Ted just shushes him.

“Quiet, Petey. The grown-ups are talking.”

That punches a laugh out of Steph and she says, “Yeah, Petey, I’m trying to learn. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Anything that Peter might have said in response to that was interrupted by Ted getting straight to business.

“Alright. If you wanna make him cry, you gotta go for the knees,” Steph rests her hands on his knees, ignoring Peter’s protests as she listens for further instructions, “It really does matter what you do. The back of his knees, squeezing that spot above the kneecaps, pulling the whole cracking an egg shit are all guaranteed to work like a charm.”

The end of Ted’s sentence was drowned out as Steph latched on and started squeezing, drawing out frantic cackles. The sensation was made worse by how his girlfriend and his brother kept talking to each other like he wasn’t there.

“Awwwwwwww,” Steph coos, lightening her touch to elicit higher-pitched giggles.

Ted rolls his eyes but still says, “Yeah, he’s fucking adorable isn’t he?” Just to hear the embarrassed whine that slips out.

“Nohohohohoho! Guys c’mohohohohon!”

Of course, his pleading does nothing.

“Alright,” Ted just barrels on, thrilled by the opportunity to mess with his kid brother, “Next thing you gotta know is that he snorts if you scratch behind his ears. It’s fucking hilarious!”

Peter’s going to die. He’s going to melt into a puddle of embarrassment and then evaporate into mist because of how much his face is burning.

He doesn’t get much more time to wallow when he feels evil nails find the spot Ted had been talking about. Hands slap up to cover his mouth after the first snort escapes.

“Oh, absolutely not, kid. You can’t hide this shit from your girlfriend!” Ted pulls his hands away to a litany of curses being hurled at him, “Aw, isn’t he just precious?”

It’s a little sarcastic, but Peter can hear the undercurrent of genuine fondness in his brother’s voice.

“Pete,” Steph leans down to look him in the eye, not bothering to still her hands to his dismay, “You might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Her tone is serious but her eyes are sparkling with pure, unfiltered glee.

Peter had been nervous that Steph wouldn’t like Ted, or that Ted would be weird about Steph, but seeing them get along flooded him with a sense of relief.

Even if it was at his expense.

“Okay, Steph. Class is dismissed because I gotta go grab some dinner, but feel free to come back if you ever wanna learn some more.”

Steph offered him a salute, finally giving Peter a chance to breathe as Ted offered them both a smile.

Peter watched as Ted sauntered over to the door, shooting him a wink and a thumbs up before disappearing around the corner, leaving him and Steph alone again.

Steph rubbed a hand on Peter’s back, making sure that it was firm enough not to tickle and looking pretty pleased with herself when he relaxed into the touch.

“Soooooooo,” She said after a few seconds, “Wanna take a break?”

Peter huffed out a laugh. He shouldn’t let her get her way, it set a bad precedent for the future.

But, he was tired, and the bed was really comfortable right now.

“Fine. But!” He cut Steph off as she started to cheer, “Only if we take a really quick nap and then get right back to studying!”

“Deal!” Steph was already manhandling him down into her optimal nap position. She liked being the big spoon and, honestly, Peter did not mind one bit.

About twenty minutes later, Ted called up to let them know that food was there. When he didn’t get a response, he poked his head into his little brother’s room and immediately softened at what he saw.

Peter and Steph were curled around each other, asleep and breathing softly in the glow of Peter’s desk lamp.

Ted just grinned and eased the door shut, but not before snapping a couple of pictures for his blackmail folder.

He’d leave two plates of food in the oven for them.