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torturedtypewritersdept · 3 months ago

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blue eyes + bruises - part one

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

m.list

—

Sarah doesn't have lunch often with her brother, but she does today, placing the responsibility of taking care of him on herself, as she always does. Her latest manifestation of this fact is you – her best friend since her college days. He doesn’t know it, but she’s coming to him with a proposition; your sweetness and his intelligence – she knows they’d meld together like a puzzle and that’s precisely why she’s set up a date between the two of you for this evening. She enters the hospital cafeteria slowly, spotting him from across the gigantic space. His shoulders are slumped and she clocks a limp in his step, instantly sure he’s been on his feet for far too long. She smiles softly as they lock eyes and notices his are far more sunken in than she’d like them to be; in fact, they almost resemble the dark black holes of a skull missing its skin and as he makes his way feverishly through the cafeteria line, she wonders if he’s okay.

“Rafe – you look like you haven’t eaten in six days.”

She scolded as the older Cameron made his way to the table and sat his tray down across from her.

“I eat.”

He grunted in response, rolling his blue orbs into the back of his head at her incessant need to pick him apart in the form of worry. This was why he didn’t return to North Carolina after college, after all. Though he couldn’t in part blame it all on his baby sister, the discontent of his father and the enthralling energy of the city had wooed him and his bride.

“Yeah, okay, hot shot.”

She replied, laughing, throwing a french fry in his direction.

“You’re gonna be mad but I've promised your hand to someone for the evening.”

She said, giggling.

“Dammit, Sarah!”

He replied, the huff that escaped like that of an agitated dog.

“Come on, big brother! Please – she’s my sweet friend from college and she’s nice and shy and she –”

“I don’t care. I’m not going.”

Rafe interjected aggressively.

“Well, too fucking bad. I already told her you agreed and I’d really hate it if you stood her up. It was like pulling teeth to get her to agree to even give you a chance.”

“Too. Fucking. Bad.”

He gritted out.

“No – don’t play with me, I know you. Rafe Cameron is a lot of things, but he isn’t cruel and it took a lot of convincing for her to come out anyways, so please.”

Squinting her eyes in annoyance and shaking her head, she waged her war with him blatantly, tired of his bullshit only five minutes into the conversation in only a way that he could ignite.

“Tell that to Molly. She thinks I am.”

He whispered.

“No she didn’t – doesn’t.”

She caught herself, two years later still not used to talking about her sister-in-law in past tense.

“Just go – please. Get out of this hospital and those fucking ugly scrubs.”

She pleaded, her soft blue eyes always something he had to give into.

“Fine, Sarah, I’ll fucking go.”

He growled, jerking his plate closer to him as he began munching on the chicken tenders that sat in front of him.

—

Rafe was dreading this date, he didn’t know you or what you were even like and let’s be honest, he hasn’t dated in literal years, hasn’t even given it a thought. After Molly departed from him, he ate, slept, and breathed life in the hospital, too afraid to be in his home alone – too afraid the silence and lack of love would swallow him home; death by a thousand cuts. He felt like that was probably normal for the situation he had found himself in; divorce in the form of death. He stared at himself in the mirror of the locker room, being sure he was ready as his hand tousled through his unruly hair.

“Sarah’s right – I do look like shit.”

He muttered, suddenly wondering what this unknown woman would think of him.

He made his way down the linoleum lined hallway and out of the hospital door a few moments later, the familiar red shine of ambulance lights just out of his peripheral and the screech of the alarm coming from the rig coming to a stop. He watched carefully as they pulled a young woman from the back, her limbs splinted and blood covering her. He wasn't sure what it was; fate or an uneasy stomach, these days he hardly had the capacity to tell the difference. But, whatever the force behind it, she pulled him toward her and as he got close, the date he had planned for suddenly slipped his mind.

—

Everything hurt – that was the first thing your brain registered as you pulled your eyes open, the sound of a siren and the beat of your heart blaring simultaneously in your ears. The siren was close, you could tell, but you seemed so distant from it at the same time, so far away and fleeting. You closed your eyes, the darkness overcoming you. It only felt like they had been closed for five seconds, but you were sure it had been longer as you heard the sound of a man’s voice and felt wind around you, signaling your brain that you were moving by the sound of rickety wheels beneath you. The man sounded handsome and kind, his voice deep as it bellowed in the air around you.

“What do we got?”

He asked with urgency, looking pointedly at the paramedics, a team of doctors surrounding him.

“25 year old female, car accident. She went through the windshield – crush injuries, concussion, internal bleeding – she’s barely hanging on.”

He gingerly nodded at the words of the paramedic and brought a pen light from his pocket, pulling your eyelids back and shining it into them. A groan escaped your lips at the intrusion.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

His voice penetrated your ears and for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain pulled your eyes open, fighting to get to whoever the voice belonged. As you took in the blue eyes that stood over you, you registered who the voice belonged to – sounds and words you could barely register coming from his mouth again.

“I’m Dr. Rafe Cameron, I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

He spoke, sliding his hand in yours, giving you a kind smile.

“Can you squeeze my hand, for me?”

Your senses weren’t intact, numbness infiltrated your being but you could feel his calloused hand as it slipped into yours and with all the energy that remained in your body, you squeezed his hand weakly. He smiled – bright and breathtakingly beautiful, teeth so perfectly in line that you were sure he had orthodontic work at some point. You noticed the crinkles by his eyes as his lips parted and his lips turned up. You suddenly regretted not shaving your legs this morning, taking in his handsomely sculpted jaw as he turned his head sideways, stretching his hands across you. You were unsure what was happening until you felt him unhooking the straps that you now realized were draped across your body, securing you to the bed you laid on.

“Move her on three – one, two, three.”

He chanted out, voice bellowing as his words controlled the move of every person in the room. You weren’t sure what kind of doctor Rafe was, but you knew he was important, that he was a leader, as every nurse and bystander operated under his sole instruction. You closed your eyes as the hands of the people around you lifted you from one bed to another, the jostling of your body breaking through the heavy cloud of numbness and what started as a whimper but quickly turned into a full-fledged bloody murder scream escaped your lips.

“Easy, sweetheart. I know it hurts.”

His hands made their way to your hair, pushing the blood-stained strands away from your forehead. His touch was gentle and calming, you had never been touched by a doctor like this, you thought to yourself.

“R-Rafe?”

You croaked out, eyes pleading.

“Hmm?”

He questioned with all his attention on you. His blue eyes raked over your form, studying your face, taking in the distress and the pain that laced it.

“Gonna die?”

You questioned, mumbling, incoherently and before he could even respond your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your back arching off the bed as you your body shook into a fit of convulsions.

“She’s crashing!”

One of the nurses yelled out.

“We’ve got to get her to the OR now, get me a neuro consult and page Dr. Richardson, I have no doubt in my mind she’s hemorrhaging.”

As soon as he muttered out the words, Rafe was straddling you on the gurney, legs on either side of your hips as his palms laid flat against your chest, fingers interlocking with each other as he violently, urgently pressed up and down in an attempt to restart your heart.

“Not today, sweet girl. Not today.”

He whispered, continuing chest compressions as the nurses and doctors wheeled the gurney the two of you were on into the operating room.

—

masterlist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafecore #doctor!rafe #doctor!rafe cameron #doctor!rafe x reader #blue eyes + bruises

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 6 months ago

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Liar, Liar

Summary: When the reader catches Dean in a big lie, she questions what the hell is going with her husband...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, lying/angst, eventual fluff

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, standing over a frying pan, not glancing up when you wandered into the kitchen. “Dinner’s not ready yet.”

“I have writer’s block again,” you said, slumping into one of the barstools, resting your head on your arms.

“Quit for the day. You’re past working time anyways,” he said, holding up a spice shaker and sprinkling some in the pan.

“I wrote like half a page all day and it’s crap,” you said. “I think I’m all out of good ideas.”

“You better not be. I like being a trophy husband,” he teased.

“You are far from a trophy husband,” you said, lifting your head up, resting it in the palm of your hand. “You’re too smart for that.”

“Oh, I know it,” he said with a smirk. “I’m a genius, aren’t I?”

“Don’t push it, Einstein,” you said, Dean chuckling as he stirred the meat around. “Maybe I should quit and go back to an office job?”

“No way,” said Dean. “You were miserable.”

“I’m miserable now,” you said, Dean chuckling again.

“You’re in a rough patch,” said Dean. “Plus now, you get to wear sweatpants all the time.”

“Sweatpants are pretty great,” you said, Dean humming in agreement. “But I think I really might be out of ideas Dean.”

“You need a vacation,” he said. “Recharge yourself.”

“But you have work this week,” you said, Dean shrugging. “I don’t deserve a vacation.”

“Have a Staycation then. Just don’t go in your office. It’s not like you need to request time off from the boss,” he said, carrying the pan over to a few plates. “Take a week off. I’m sure the ideas will come back.”

“Can I go to work with you?” you asked.

“With me? Why?” he asked, dishing up the food, letting it cool off to the side.

“Your job is interesting,” you said.

“I’m a tax lawyer. Yes, my life is just riveting,” he said.

“Maybe I need to write a story about a tax lawyer. Maybe a thriller or a murder,” you said.

“No,” he said, pushing a plate in front of you.

“Please? Like one hour on your lunch break?” You asked, Dean’s face scrunching up.

“I said no,” he said, grumpily taking a seat beside you, stabbing into his dinner.

“Alright. Sorry I asked.”

You waved Dean goodbye the next morning, watching him pull out of the driveway and down the street. You tried to take his advice and ignore your office, settling for watching TV instead but by eleven you were already antsy.

You decided to surprise him at work, bring him in a nice lunch with his favorite sandwich. You’d driven by the building his office was in before but the place was huge and you were more than a little lost when you got to the reception area.

“Hi, is Golden and Bash law firm on this side of the building or the other?” you asked, the receptionist pointing you down a hall and through a pair of double doors.

The lobby was quite grand and you had to hide your laugh that your Dean worked in a place like this.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the desk.

“Yeah, I’m here to see my husband. I brought him lunch,” you said, the woman offering a smile.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that. What’s his name? I can call him up to the desk,” she said.

“Winchester,” you said.

“I didn’t know little Sam was married,” she said, standing up with a wave. “He’s right-“

“Sorry, I meant Dean Winchester,” you said with a wince. “Sam’s my brother in law.”

“Miss we only have one Winchester in employment here. Sam Winchester. He started on Monday,” she said.

“That’s some kind of mistake,” you said, the receptionist looking back at her computer.

“No, it’s not,” she said, your head shaking.

“Can you take me to Sam? I need to speak to him. Now,” you said. She didn’t say another word as you followed her back to a small office, boxes all around.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” asked Sam. “Is something wrong?”

“Dean said he worked here,” you said quietly.

“What? No way. I just got this job and he definitely isn’t here,” said Sam. “He’s at Greenwich, isn’t he?”

“No. He said he got a new one here a month ago,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“He definitely doesn’t work here, Y/N,” said Sam.

“Then where has my husband been going all day, Sam? I know he gets a paycheck, insurance...what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “I have to finish up a couple things here but I’ll be over the house in an hour.”

“Thanks,” you said, tossing the sandwich in the trash. By the time you got home, the Impala was in the driveway, Dean wearing a big smile in the kitchen.

“Hey! I decided to come home for lunch,” said Dean, holding up a pair of wraps he must have picked up along the way.

“Really,” you said, Dean nodding his head.

“Super busy morning down there. Had to get out of there and see a friendly face,” he said.

“Busy at the firm?” You forced a fake smile, your blood boiling as he hummed.

“Oh yeah. You know how busy tax time of year is. Everyone freaking out,” said Dean.

“That’s interesting,” you said.

“What is?” asked Dean.

“Your super busy morning at the law firm...considering you don’t work at the law firm,” you growled. You saw Dean about to shake it off but he took one look at your face and knew he was screwed.

“How long have you known?” he asked quietly.

“Oh I have plenty of questions and I think-“

“How long?” asked Dean, your eyebrows raising.

“About twenty minutes. Now how about-“

“Does anyone else know?” he asked.

“Sam. Now-“

“I’m not a tax lawyer,” he said with a sigh, setting his wrap down on the plate. You scoffed, crossing your arms.

“No shit,” you said.

“I can’t tell you what I am,” said Dean. You cocked your head, Dean’s jaw clenching.

“Why the hell not?”

“It’ll…scare you.”

“Try me,” you said, getting in his face, Dean taking a deep breath.

“I’m a professor,” he said. You shook your head, holding up your hands.

“Okay? Why is that such a big secret?” you asked. Dean looked away, grimacing.

“At a…private school,” he said.

“Still not understanding the secret part,” you said.

“It’s a unique school,” said Dean.

“Is it fucking Hogwarts?” You scoffed. “Tell me the truth.”

“It’s called Hunters,” said Dean. You grit your teeth.

“You are this close to me walking out-“

“You want a divorce? Fine. Divorce me,” he said. You grabbed his shoulders, Dean’s gaze turning harsh.

“Dean, talk to me,” you said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve said all I can,” he said.

“You being a teacher doesn’t scare me so what exactly is it you do at this school,” you said.

“You will never ask me about it again,” he said.

“Tell me the truth!”

“Hey,” said Sam, walking in through the front door, both your heads turning towards him. “I took care of the secretary.”

“Good,” said Dean, Sam barely looking at you.

“You killed-“

“No, he didn’t kill her,” said Dean with a sigh. “Just made her forget. Just like how you’re going to forget real soon.”

“Dean,” said Sam. “We can’t keep doing this every time you slip up.”

“I’m not telling her,” said Dean, grabbing your arm, pulling you over to the couch. “Just help me with this.”

“Dean, I don’t really think we’re solving the problem here,” said Sam, Dean forcing you to sit down.

“Thirty minutes of her life gone, she’ll think she took a nap,” said Dean, swallowing hard when you stared up at him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Do I even know you at all?” you asked, Sam crossing his arms off to the side. “Who are you?”

“Dean, just tell her,” said Sam. “I’m tired of hiding this.”

“I am not telling her all that crap,” said Dean. “I’m not gonna lose her over this.”

“You’re losing me already,” you said, Dean rubbing the back of his neck. “Tell me the truth.”

“I can’t!” said Dean, stepping away. “I have to protect you.”

“Tell me,” you growled.

“Sam, give it to me,” said Dean, holding out a hand.

“I didn’t bring it,” said Sam.

“You what?” asked Dean, eyes blinking rapidly.

“Didn’t bring it. I’m tired of making her forget. She’s your wife. Stop lying to her,” said Sam.

“Sammy, considering I’m the one that volunteered for this, you don’t get a say,” said Dean.

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” said Sam.

“I know. But I have to live with it so I get to choose how,” said Dean.

“What about Y/N’s choice? Does she not get one of those?” asked Sam.

“Apparently not,” you said, Dean running his hands over his face. “You know what. Forget it. If you don’t trust me enough to tell me whatever this is, fine. Don’t expect me to be here when you get home from your fake job.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, catching your arm when you stood up. “I trust you. I need you to trust me right now. I am not doing this to hurt you. The exact opposite really.”

“Then trust me that I can handle whatever this is,” you said.

“I can’t take it back after this. You’ll know and if you leave, I won’t make you forget again. I can’t if I know that’s how you really feel,” he said.

“Dean, trust me,” you said. He closed his eyes.

“I teach at a special school...our grandparents taught there and people before them. Someone from the family line always has to teach there after a certain age...once they have experience,” said Dean.

“Experience in what,” you said, Dean barely meeting your eye.

“Hunting…monsters,” mumbled Dean.

“You hunt monsters,” you said.

“Hunted. I haven’t been in five years. Not since I started teaching,” said Dean. “That’s right around when I met you.”

“Is that why you keep a shotgun full of salt under the bed?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“And the symbols on the subfloor when we put in the new hardwoods you said were just scratches,” you said, Dean nodding his head. “And the matching tattoo of yours you convinced me to get on my hip?”

“It means a demon can’t possess you,” said Dean. “I know, I’m nuts.”

“I think you were a dumbass for being scared to tell me but not nuts,” you said, Dean’s head snapping up. “You read my first book. The horror one that sold like two copies? Yeah, that might have happened to my dad for reals. At first I thought it was a scary story but he told me to be careful out in the world. So vampires are real, huh?”

“Yeah. A whole bunch of other stuff too,” said Dean quietly.

“Told you so,” said Sam, Dean ripping a pillow off the couch and chucking it at him. “If you’re not going to kill each other, I have to get back to work.”

“Are you really a lawyer?” you asked.

“Yeah. Dean kept me out of the family business so I wouldn’t have to deal with that stuff,” said Sam. “I’ll catch up with guys later.”

“So…” said Dean when it was just the two of you. “Are you still going to divorce me?”

“How many times did you make me forget?” you asked.

“Twice. I never gave you a chance to talk really before, just sort of did it as soon as you knew I lied,” he said. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “You’re going to leave, aren’t you.”

“I would not advise lying to me again,” you said. “Or making me forget. Understand?”

“Yes,” he said. “You hate me though. For lying.”

“If I didn’t know you so well, I might. But I also know your head is twisted up with stuff I never pushed but hoped you knew you could come to me with. You beat yourself up enough. I don’t hate you. Be honest with me is all I ask,” you said.

“Okay,” said Dean, pausing a beat. “What do you want to know?”

_________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester

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lady-arcane · 3 days ago

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—Nothing Special—

Nanami doesn’t believe in doing things halfway. Not work, not fights, and certainly not meals.

----

It’s something you notice early on, the way he approaches cooking with the same quiet precision he applies to everything else. No shortcuts, no half-hearted attempts. Just careful, deliberate movements—measuring, chopping, stirring, tasting. He doesn’t rush anything, and there’s something almost meditative about the way he works. Like cooking is one of the few things in this world that make sense.

And yet, every time he sets down a plate in front of you, he shrugs it off with a casual, “It’s nothing special.”

Which is, frankly, insane.

Because Nanami’s cooking isn’t just good—it’s absurdly, unfairly good. The kind of good that makes you reconsider every meal you’ve ever had before. It’s balanced and flavorful and just indulgent enough to make you wonder if he missed his true calling.

He didn’t, of course. Because as much as you hate to admit it, he is a good sorcerer.-Even if you’d much rather see him somewhere else, somewhere safer. Somewhere with a kitchen instead of a battlefield.

-----

“You know, most people don’t just whip up a three-course meal on a random weeknight,” you tell him once, staring down at the plate he’s just set in front of you. “This is not ‘nothing special.’”

Nanami exhales through his nose, unamused. “It’s just a simple meal.”

“Nanami, there’s saffron in this.”

He barely reacts. “I had some left over.”

“Of course you did."

It’s a pattern, this quiet form of care he offers. He doesn’t say much about it, doesn’t expect praise or gratitude. But you see it in the way he portions out the food, always making sure your plate is full before serving himself. In the way he adjusts the spice level just enough to match your tastes. In the way he always, always makes sure there’s something comforting on the table after a particularly rough day.

You don’t always call him out on it. Sometimes, you just let it happen—this wordless, steady kind of love that he insists isn’t anything grand.

-----

But one night, after a long, exhausting day, you sit down at the table, take one bite of his cooking, and blurt out, “I think you love me more than I love you.”

Nanami pauses, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Raises a brow.

You gesture at the food. “This is ridiculous. This is devotion. And I—what? I just show up? I sit here and receive all this?” You shake your head, overwhelmed. “It’s embarrassing, honestly. I need to step up my game.”

For a second, he just looks at you, unreadable as ever. Then, very quietly, he says, “You do more than you realize.”

And maybe it’s the exhaustion talking, or maybe it’s just the way he says it—calm, certain, like an undeniable fact—but you find yourself falling silent. Because when Nanami says something like that, you believe him.

The rest of the meal is quiet. Easy. And when you finish, setting your chopsticks down with a sigh, Nanami gives you a look and says, “So? How was it?”

You meet his eyes, dead serious. “Nothing special.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, just barely. But he doesn’t argue.

He just gets up, takes your plate, and starts cleaning up.

-----

Greetings, Dreamers and Readers ✨🌸

You know, I’ve been thinking—maybe cooking is a love language. My younger Bhai (cousin brother), for example, is an absolute menace most of the time (as younger siblings tend to be lol)

But when he’s in the kitchen, he always makes something for me too. Not in an overly sweet, “look how much I care” kind of way—more like a casual, “I was already making food, so here, take this” way. No big declarations, no dramatic gestures, just... an unspoken understanding.

Which, honestly, is kind of unfair. Because while I can barely cook to save my life, this little brat could probably become a chef if he wanted to. 😭✋

Meanwhile, I struggle to flip a half fry egg without cracking its yolk. Life is cruel like that. 🗿

But anyway—maybe food is one of those quiet ways people show love. No grand speeches, no poetic confessions—just a plate of something warm, made with care, set in front of you without a word. Feels very Nanami-coded, doesn’t it? lol

---

What about you guys? Do you express love through cooking? Or does someone do that for you? Let me know—I’d love to hear your stories! 🎀

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demonlorddiva · 14 days ago

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Hi!! I stumbled upon your blog (stumbled!?!!?!? Upon!?!?!?)

Anywaysss, I really like your writings!! It's very fun to read!

BUTTT!! HEAR ME OUT!!!!

How about an mc who's very short????? Like imagine the struggle in terms of things that the mc usually do (like cooking) turning into a parkour exercise because of how often they need to climb the counter to get one single ingredient, or to step on a chair in order to cook, or to climb a bookshelf to grab a book, etc.

It's fine if you don't want to btw!! It's just fun to think about!! mwaa, byeeee

As a certified short lady I got you! I’ll do the brothers but let me know if you want me to do more!

Warnings: not really any but they teasing tf out of you so be prepared 🤣 also gn mc as best as I can!

Obey me brothers with short mc

Lucifer

Most humans, even demons are shorter than him. So this doesn’t surprise him at all

Thinks it’s cute when you get angry because your so small

If your struggling to reach something he just watches from a distance for Mmmm till you ask him to get it for you

It’s his pride don’t judge him he just loves it

Mammon

GET READY FOR THE NICKNAMES

Small fry, shrimp, shorty, short stack, all of them

“Don’t go climbing on the counters shorty! The great mammon will help ya, if you fell and hit your head Lucifer would have mine”

Definitely does the thing where he rests his elbow on your head cause your so short

Levi

Omg your so short and he’s so much taller than you! It’s like that anime “i know im taller than you but that’s okay and I love you all the same”

Don’t climb on the counters!! Your making him nervous, he can get it for you and be the hero!

“Thanks Levi! Your the best!”

Boys as red as a tomato 🤣

Satan

Wouldn’t say anything but he thinks it’s so adorable with how short you are

And he loves being helpful to you! Of course you need him to grab that book from the top shelf, and he’s happy to!

But he definitely uses your small stature for his anti Lucifer league schemes

“Hey your small so he won’t notice you, sneak in there and drop off this trap”

Asmo

EEEEEK YOUR SO CUTE

He just HAS to dress you up like his little doll

You’d look so cute with lil curls in your hair and these shoes? They are perfect!

Being the shortest out of the boys he’s actually surprised and happy to help you with grabbing tall things from shelves, he normally doesn’t get to do this!

Beel

He’s never seen a human so small

Must protect at all costs

There was a group chat message that I think about a lot where he picks you up for you to grab things on the top of high shelves (asmo thinks y’all are doing the nasty HAHA)

But I genuinely think he would just lift you up for any reason, you see a bug, the steps too high, something’s scary, literally anything

Belphegor

Definitely makes fun of you

Even tho HES SHORT TOO (compared to the other brothers) so the jokes go back and forth forever

But he definitely loves that your short, your perfect for napping and cuddling with

“Your so small, it’s like your my personal plushie” he says with that cute lil smirk he has AHHHH

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphie #obey me swd #obey me solmare #obey me ships #obey me hcs

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hakkkuu · 1 month ago

Note

sohee’s the type of pervert virgin that jerks off more than 4-5 times a day, to the point his grades are affected by it. being the youngest son, his mom is always worried for him so she hired a private tutor to help him with his studies. poor virgin sohee cant help but get hard even though all you did is teach him, cus he cant stand being alone with a woman in his room :((

okay this is so hot i love it anon..the thought of sohee jerking off so often makes me dizzy

Sohee’s a wreck, a lanky, ordinary guy with messy black hair and a face that could be cute if he wasn’t always flushed with guilt and desperation. He’s carved out a pathetic little existence in his cramped bedroom, jerking off like it’s his full-time job. Four, five times a day—sometimes more if he’s got the house to himself—he’s got no control, no shame, just a relentless, horny itch that never lets up. He’s a virgin, never even kissed a girl, but his mind’s a sewer of fantasies, and his hand’s his only friend. It’s disgusting how he does it: pants shoved down to his ankles, hunched over his phone or some dog-eared magazine he swiped from his brother’s room, stroking himself with frantic, sloppy pumps. He whimpers when he’s close, biting his lip so hard it bleeds, his free hand clawing at the sheets or gripping the edge of his desk. He doesn’t last—a minute, maybe two—before he’s spilling over his fist, panting like he’s dying, a sad little moan slipping out despite his efforts to stay quiet.

He’s so horny it’s pathetic. In class, he’s useless, cock twitching under the desk as he stares at girls he’ll never talk to, daydreaming about their skirts and what’s underneath until he’s bolting to the bathroom for another quick, shameful session. His grades are tanking, homework crumpled in the trash under a pile of crusty tissues, because all he can think about is getting off again. At night, he’s even worse—grinding against his mattress, humping it like a dog in heat, face buried in his pillow to muffle the high-pitched whines he’d die if anyone heard. He’s an incel mess, drowning in porn-fueled delusions of being some alpha stud, when really he’s just a trembling pervert who can’t go an hour without touching himself.

Then you show up. His mom’s worried—“His grades are slipping, I don’t know what’s wrong with him”—so she hires you, the private tutor, to fix her precious youngest son. You’re sitting across from him now, flipping through his math textbook, your voice calm as you explain quadratic equations. He’s not listening. His eyes dart to your chest, your hands, the way your skirt rides up just a little when you cross your legs. He’s hard—painfully, obviously hard—his loose sweatpants doing nothing to hide the bulge he keeps shifting to conceal. You pretend not to notice, but you can feel the tension rolling off him. He’s never been this close to a real woman before, and it’s frying his brain.

His hands shake as he grips his pencil, one slipping under the desk to adjust himself, and you hear the faint rustle of fabric. It’s almost sad how bad he is at hiding it. His breathing’s uneven, shallow, like he’s seconds from bolting to lock the door and jerk off to the memory of you sitting here. In his head, it’s filthy—he’s bending you over this desk, hearing you moan his name, all the shit he’s seen online but never dared try. Reality’s different: he’s a wreck, barely able to meet your gaze, his dick throbbing so hard it’s torture. “Sohee,” you say, leaning forward just enough to make him squirm. “Focus. You’re falling behind.” He nods, stammering some excuse, but you know he’s not hearing a word. He’s too busy imagining you naked, sprawled on his bed, while he ruts into his hand for the fifth time today.

You tap the textbook, and he jolts, eyes wide like he’s been caught. “Sorry,” he mumbles, voice cracking, and you can tell he’s aching to run, to relieve the pressure building in his pants. His mom thinks he’s just distracted, but you’re starting to see it: Sohee’s a slave to his own cock, and now, with you in the room, he’s harder than he’s ever been, drowning in twisted, virgin fantasies he’ll never have the guts to act on.

#riize hard hours #riize fanfic #riize scenarios #riize smut #riize #sohee x imagine #riize sohee #sohee x reader #lee sohee #sohee #riize x reader #riize imagines #anon ask #hakkkuu

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enigmasalad · 25 days ago

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CAN THE SIDES COOK OR BAKE HEADCANNONS:

Patton: Yes and no. Patton is ultimately unpredictable in the kitchen. He makes a lot of homey food or packaged food like a stereotypical parent does. He can make a mean casserole but uh…as long as he doesn’t forget it’s in there. He can make cookies…but cakes always end up looking like a hot mess. He can make a smoothie…but he forgot to put the lid on the blender and now Logans cleaning strawberry and banana off of the ceiling.

Logan: The answer is..well…kinda. Cooking is a science and baking is an exact science. However he views anything other than crofters as just a means of sustaining the body. He rarely cooks let alone bakes. However he can make fish really well, and bread. He’s even attempted a soufflé with Janus and Patton before and after a few tries it works out. You can get him to cook if you can get him to stop working (That is until he learns about Molecular Gastronomy).

Roman: NO. Roman can’t cook besides making a sandwich. His version of baking is putting a poptart in the toaster. And you know what? That’s ok. He doesn’t want to get messy. He doesn’t understand why adding something so elegant like Truffles is wrong to put in a pancake. He’s just being creative! Let him be creative! Before you know it your spices are gone. Also the Mac n cheese is black. He forgot about it arguing with his brother.

Virgil: Yeah he can cook. Does he do it often? Meh. Does he like doing it? Depends. During his time in the dark side he’s learn to make fresh pasta sauces and how to pump up instant ramen or adding breadcrumbs to Mac n cheese. However with the light sides he’s learned how to make fresh pasta, or how to make a pretty good stir-fry. Sometimes it’s meditative for him. Other times it’s too stressful and he orders Thai food for everyone. Can he bake? NO.

Janus: Janus has gotten good at cooking and baking over the years. He’s gone from instant noodles and grilled cheese to more complex and elegant dishes (at least he thinks so). And he can actually bake! Macarons, cake, Brownies you name it! He can do it. But uh…he’s a bit of a snob about it. And you can NOT be in the kitchen with him if he’s cooking unless you’re sitting in a chair and not TOUCHING ANYTHING REMUS….or you’re gossiping with him.

Remus: Can Remus cook? No. Can he bake? No. Does he try? Yes. Is it edible? Uncertain. Why is it glowing? I don’t know. Why are there tentacles? I don’t know.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides headcanon #sasi

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ladykailitha · 5 months ago

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The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 11

Just two more chapters to go. The tension is ramping up and you're gonna want to hold on to your seats. This is the penultimate chapter before everything is revealed. And hooboy is it going to be great fun.

In this we find out who the cleaner was and he gives Eddie the final clue he needs to stop his troubles once and for all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Eddie enjoyed watching the cleaning crew. They were like bees in a hive, not bumping up against each other or trying to do the same tasks. Cleaning up after some days was hell, like Tuesdays and Saturdays and he always made sure to pay extra on those days.

That said, he really didn’t know any of them. The only familiar faces were the foremen. Eddie has asked the head forman about it once and was told that cleaning Hellfire was such a cushy job that he rotated teams so that everyone got a chance at it.

So imagine his surprise when one of the cleaners stopped Steve on his way out of the dressing room for a short chat.

It looked a little heated, if Eddie was being honest and was about to step in when Steve broke away from the conversation and drifted his direction.

Eddie cocked his head toward the cleaner. “Who was that?”

“An old friend of mine,” Steve said with a shrug. “I didn’t realize he had fallen on such hard times. Apparently his mom broke her hip and hasn’t been able to work for the last year.”

“That’s rough,” Eddie said, and waved his arm for Steve to go first. “I don’t know how much the cleaners make, but maybe if he puts in an application we can find him something to do here. Hell, he could work in the kitchen if Monty liked him well enough.”

His chef was a thin, wiry looking fellow, but he knew how to make the best club food anyone had ever tasted. He was also particular about who worked with him. But Monty could always use an extra hand or two and it would never hurt to try.

“I’ll let him know the next time I see him,” Steve said with a fond smile. “He’s also got a little brother in college, maybe have him apply too. Couldn’t hurt. What’s the least that’s going to happen, you say no? They won’t be any worse off for applying.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t think that he would hire either of them if he was honest, but like Steve said, they wouldn’t be worse off for it. “So how was Creepy McCreepy?”

Steve bumped Eddie with his hip. “Henry Creel was fine. He’s just passing through, by the way, Mr. Worry Wort. I think he has bigger fish to fry then some high end exotic dancing club. Not that this place isn’t worth scalping, but I think he’s aiming for higher?”

“World domination?” Eddie teased, leaning into Steve space.

He laughed and nudged him away with his elbow. “Yeah, probably.”

Eddie ended up meeting with Steve’s friend because the guy needed consistent money coming in and while cleaning job paid okay, it really didn’t have many regular clients other than the club. Mostly they cleaned up after major sporting events, political conventions, stuff like that. And with their boss Murray always rotating the crew who cleaned the club, some weeks were good, others not so much.

Eddie had to admit that guy cleaned up really good. With his hair out of his face and wearing nice clothes, he wasn’t bad to look at.

“Jonathan Byers?” he said, rising to greet him from a table he had sectioned off for the interview.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking Eddie’s hand. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

Eddie smiled. “No problem. I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie pulled out three pages and spread them out in front of Jonathan. “There are three positions open right now, let’s see if you fit any one of them.”

He pointed to the first one. “This is for the busser position. Basically you go around after people have left to take away plates and glasses as well as pick up any tips. You’ll get a small portion of the tips but mostly it’s a flat rate of $15 an hour.”

Jonathan nodded.

“This one is for a cook’s assistant,” Eddie said tapping on the second one. “Often called a prep chef in bigger kitchens. Basically you’ll prepare everything for the chef and put it in the fridge for him to grab as he goes. You’ll get here at 4pm and leave at 8pm when the club opens. Pay is $22 an hour because it’s only four hours a day.”

Again Jonathan nodded. “That makes sense.”

“And finally the waiter position,” Eddie said. “This one in the highest paid, but also the most demanding. You’ll only have two days off a week and you’ll work from 8pm-2am. Base pay is $15 an hour, but you get a set amount of tips every night. Usually it’s percentage, but if it’s a rough night, you’ll see a base pay of $200 in tips for the night. You aren’t expected to pimp for tips as it were, as you aren’t the main attraction. You’ll be invisible for most of the time and some will even get mad at you for blocking their view of the show.”

“Wow,” Jonathan said. “That’s really fucking generous.”

“I try to be,” Eddie said cocking his head to side, “because living in this hellscape we call American Capitalism is hard enough without having to worry about not having enough money for shit.”

“Can I take these with me and then send over my resume for the position I’m most interested in applying for?” Jonathan asked, placing his hand over the a couple of the pages.

“Sure thing,” Eddie said. “I have copies on my computer. I’ll give you to the end of the week, otherwise I’m going to have to start looking elsewhere.” He stood up and Jonathan did the same.

“That’s fair,” Jonathan said, holding up the pages. “Thanks for this. Because you gave me a chance, even if I don’t end up working here.”

They shook hands.

“Let me walk you to your car,” Eddie said, waving his arm for Jonathan to go first.

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t have a car right now, my girlfriend is coming to pick me.”

“Then I’ll wait with you,” Eddie offered.

Jonathan considered it a moment and then shrugged. “Sure, man. Whatever.”

They walked out to the curb and chatted about Jonathan’s family and how his mom was doing. “My brother is going to be famous one day,” Jonathan said with pride. “He is such an amazing painter, his work should be hung galleries.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said with a smile. He knew that tone of voice. It was the same tone Wayne got when he talked about him. “So what did baby Jonathan Byers want to be when he grew up?”

“This is going to sound so weird,” Jonathan said with a smirk, “but a bug photographer. Not wild life in general. Bugs. Creepy crawlies. Insects and spiders. I loved that shit as a kid. I don’t know how many times I freaked out my mom by bringing in a new bug to take pictures of and then release back into the wild.”

“Young Eddie would have loved you,” he said softly. “I liked bugs and critters you aren’t supposed to go anywhere near. Raccoons, possums, squirrels. Baby Eddie loved them all. My mom,” he wagged his hand back and forth, “not so much.”

“There she is now,” Jonathan said jutting his chin at the red hatchback pulling into the parking lot.

Eddie pursed his lips and resolved not to say a damn word until she did.

And oh boy did she ever. She got out of the car and immediately started yelling at Jonathan.

“What on earth are you doing here?” she cried. “I thought you had an interview.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “Not an interview yet, more like a fact finding mission. But I like him.” He grinned at her.

“I forbid you from working here!” she shrieked. “This is a den of sin! I have vowed to take it down.”

“Nancy,” Jonathan said warningly. “We’ve had this discussion. If I didn’t work at every place you found morally objectionable, I wouldn’t be able to work at all. I just need something stable until Will graduates and Mom can move around on her own again.”

“When you told me that Steve was working in this hive of iniquity ,” Nancy growled, “I made it my responsibility to shut it down once and for all. To save Steve, to save you from having to sweep the vile filth from its floors.”

“What?!” Jonathan cried. “I didn’t tell you Steve was working here to have you go on one of your crusades. I told you because Steve was a good friend when both of you were dancing ballet together.”

“It’s a sin!” she cried one more time.

“So is fornication,” Jonathan huffed. “And breaking and entering and a shit ton of other things you do that are supposedly okay as long as you do them.”

Nancy folded her arms and stomped her foot. “That’s not the same and you know it. They have actual fucking nights dedicated to a specific deadly sin. I may have broken a few laws in my time, but I would never stoop the depths of depravity that his club sinks to!”

“You continue with this vendetta,” Jonathan warned, “and I swear to God, we’re through. There is nothing wrong with what they do. So what if people see them naked. Don’t go see it. Your rights stop at their personhood. You can only dictate what you do and not anyone else.”

He turned to Eddie. “Can you take me home? I don’t think I want to be in the same car as her.”

“Sure thing, man,” he replied, thumbing behind him. “Just let me lock up and I’ll be right out.”

When he came back Nancy had gone and Jonathan looked like a kicked puppy.

“You ready to go?”

Jonathan nodded and without a word followed him to his car. After get the address and putting it into the GPS, Eddie said, “I’m sorry about how she acted. Has she done this sort of thing before?”

“When I first graduated high school I got a job at a photography studio,” he muttered. “I took pictures of babies and toddlers. I had this cute little pink rabbit that never failed to get a smile.” He cleared his throat. “She found out that in addition to family portraits, bridal and wedding photos, they also did boudoir photo shoots.”

“Oh no,” Eddie moaned, completely seeing where this was going.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said with a sniffle. “She got the place shut down when she found out that some official’s daughter got them for the guy she was sleeping with, who was not her fiancé.”

Eddie frowned. That sounded too familiar.

“Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “this bitch got the whole place shut down and suddenly I was without a job. If I ever find her, I think I’d like to strangle her with my bare hands.”

“Her named wouldn’t be Heather Holloway, would it? Mayor Kirk Holloway’s daughter?” Eddie asked running his tongue over his upper lip slowly.

Jonathan snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the snake in the grass.”

Eddie pulled off to the side of the road and closed his eyes. “It’s a fucking scam. Holy shit! It’s a fucking scam.”

“What is?” Jonathan asked.

Eddie turned around. “I just figured the whole thing out. All of it. The attacks against Steve, Billy getting caught with his hands up the wrong skirt, Jason fucking Carver. I’ve got to give it to your girl, she is one smart manipulative bitch. But I’m smarter.”

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @gloomysoup @novelnovella @micheledawn1975 @garden-of-gay

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #dance club au

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meloarto-me · 11 months ago

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Fukaboshi x Human Reader

𓆝 𓆛 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆛 𓆟

My little cute prince…. How I love him. jnbgjfadj

I will add that you are taller than the average person, more than two meters?

Sorry for the mistakes, hope you enjoy! ദ്ദി ˉ꒳ˉ )✧

𓆝 𓆛 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆛 𓆟

Fukaboshi

༄ I'M 100 PERCENT SURE HE TREATS YOU LIKE A QUEEN

༄ He would carry you everywhere, as it were. You are so tiny and he is strong (He likes to brag about his strength in front of you).

༄ He would like to paint your toenails, please let him. He delights in your legs. As if you know, he doesn't have them himself so he is naturally curious about them.

༄ He will ask a lot of questions about humanity. But how is it possible to fry in the sun? He will ask a lot of stupid questions, don't ridicule him for it.

༄ He will definitely ask about the human body. Apparently, he has a similar body, but I don't think mermaids have a period.

༄ When you get your period for the first time, Fukaboshi goes crazy, senses you from far away, and will leave everything he's done to see if you're okay.

༄ Long you have to explain to him that everything is ok and you are not dying. NIby has read books on the human body and its various aspects, but he has never encountered this.

༄ He's just worried.

༄ The biggest gentlemen you can meet.

༄ Opens every door for you, brings flowers (Some ornamental plants underwater) for no occasion. Breakfast in bed, small gifts. He can bring you pebbles that are the color of your eyes.

༄ Fukaboshi is sure to make something for you by hand. Nóś it always and his heart will light up with pride and happiness.

༄ Sometimes you see jealous glances from mermaids, sometimes it makes you feel bad.

༄ In those moments, Fukaboshi takes you in his arms and assures you in every possible way. Don't you like your legs? He loves them they are so cute, he kisses them for you. Don't like your hair? He can braid them differently for you (Learned on Shirahoshi) so that you feel confident with them, he will even help you cut them.

༄ In his eyes you are perfect, his little charming goddess.

༄ Fukaboshi in company usually holds a hand on your shoulders or back. He may also hold your hand. (Less often because he is shy).

༄ Behind the bedroom door, he is more cuddly. He will draw you close to him and sit or lie like that.

༄ He loves it when you play with his hair. Or you slide your finger across his face while looking into his eyes. Such small gestures are the best according to him.

༄ Just the perfect boyfriend.

༄ With him by your side everything becomes more beautiful.

༄ Before I forget. Fukaboshi is very jealous, he won't show it but jealousy sometimes eats him up from the inside.

༄ His brothers take up too much of your time! During this time you could have been with him and hugged!!! Hug you understand!

༄ End of the day, he will join you, although this is how he can spend time with you.

༄ However, if it is someone other than his family he will throw that person surreptitious jealous glances (Everyone can see it, just no one tells him. You think it's cute.).

༄ Just the ideal boyfriend.

𓆝 𓆛 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆛 𓆟

Here I will end it I could write and write here and there would be no end. 🌊♡☁️

#one piece #fishman #one piece x reader #one piece fukaboshi #fukaboshi #reader #human #shirahoshi

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hotheadedhero · 8 months ago

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hey so how do you think 2003 or 2012 Leo would deal with a super sweet yet fiesty s/o? Like he is in their house and he apologises for breaking in, he just needed a safe haven to relax and s/o is like casually “If it was anyone else I’d beat them up, but you can break into my house any time you want. I actually trust you”?

AN: We going with 03! The wheel has spoken :P

Exception

Leonardo x Reader

What a week. As far as cleaning the streets of criminal activity goes, it’s been one of the hardest to date. At every turn, there are muggings, burglary, vandalism, all around chaos. You name it. Pure, unbridled chaos and every time the boys think they’re safe to rest up for five minutes, something else pops up and they’re back at it. By all accounts, it doesn’t make sense. New York isn’t without its delinquency but these rates are bizarre even by their standards. If this is all part of a bigger picture then they’ve got some big fish to fry.

As it would turn out, it was: a large-scale operation by a nameless syndicate, orchestrated in the hopes of tiring out the turtles beyond their threshold. If they’re too overworked to engage in their usual vigilante-ing, thieves and rogue punks alike could swarm the streets without having to worry about capture. It would have worked, too, were it not for one of the crooks and his blabbermouth. They can thank Casey and his questionable scare tactics for that one. Who’s to judge when it gets results?

Regardless, the boys couldn’t wait to settle down back home. Leonardo more so than anyone else. He’s ready to sit down with some candles and mentally scrub himself of this strenuous endeavour. The problem with that, however, is that his siblings have their own unique choices of downtime and they’re not exactly the quietest. Machinery hums on one side of the room, occasionally accompanied by shrieking metal. The other side of the lair vibrates with the heavy boom of hip-hop. Even the gentle click-clack of knitting needles just across from his is grating on the ears. He can typically drown out the sounds of his brothers but he’s worn to the point that even meditation won’t do the trick. There’s only one thing for it: he needs to get some air. Better yet, he needs to see you. It’s been far too long.

Before dating, you both knew there would be nights and even stretches of such where you would go without seeing one another. Plans can change last minute if trouble is afoot. Dates cancelled for the sake of pedestrian safety. That being said, these last half a dozen days have been the longest length of time you’ve endured without each other. Maybe he could surprise you with his return. You’d think he learned from the times he and his brothers have unexpectedly crashed April’s that, that would be a bad idea. This is you, though. Arguably, you’re a bit more temperamental at times but he knows your soft spot for him could trump that. Probably.

Without thinking of the possible ramifications, he trudges along to your apartment. Albeit, it’s taking a lot longer to get than normal. He’s aware of how drained he is but walking through the sewers shouldn’t be this difficult. He’ll be thankful when he finally reaches you. Perhaps he’ll even be lucky enough to lay dead in your arms if he hasn’t pushed his luck by barging in unprompted. He quietly chuckles at himself, knowing you’d call him out for being such a sap.

Leo finally makes it to the manhole cover and pushes it off with some strain. The weight of it burns his muscles, nearing the point of shaking. Nonetheless, he drives through and lets out a breath when it clangs against the tarmac. Not his most graceful of exits but he supposes he can be excused at least this once. The extra ache is worth it for the sweet wave of serenity that washes over him when he sees your window. It’s a dim light. No doubt it’s from your living room lava lamp - the one with the orange wax that emits this gentle, pink-amber glow. It’s reminiscent of a sun-kissed sky that you can enjoy in the sanctuary of your own home. He likes that one. You always turn it on when the city enters night; when you want the sunset to last just that little while longer.

Without wanting to lose another second, he carefully positions the manhole cover back in place and advances up your fire escape. He peeks through your window on the off chance he might catch you. When you’re nowhere to be found, he slides the glass up and climbs through as quietly as his irritated legs will allow him. He’s about to call your name when something suddenly hits him on the head.

“Ow!” he yells out and rubs on the sore spot. The main lights flick on and there you are, standing in a readied pose with your bat raised high. “Couldn’t you do that in a batting cage or something?”

“Leo?” Your eyes gape wide as your stance falters.

In the dully lit room, all you saw was a figure. A figure sneaking into your home. It could have been anyone or anything. Obviously, your first port of call was to take action. Befriending and even dating one of the city’s self-proclaimed saviours means potential for a target on your head. There’s no telling who or what could come for you should they want to lure the turtles in with live bait. What you hadn’t anticipated was your loving turtle in blue to be the one tiptoeing into your apartment. You prop the bat on your shoulder and lean on the wall with the other.

“Ever heard of a phone?” you ask through a playful murmur.

One corner of his lips turns up into a coy smile and he laughs sheepishly, “Sorry, it’s been a long week.”

You have half a mind to remind him why breaking into someone’s home in a crime-infested New York is a recipe for disaster but he looks beat enough as is. Whilst you haven’t had much of a chance to talk this past week, you’re more than aware of what he’s had to deal with. If he’s here now, that must mean it’s been officially dealt with and taken care of. Good thing, too, because it seems like he could drop at any given moment. Oh. The baseball. Your boyfriend has been working himself to the bone and you’ve just whacked him in the face with a baseball.

Bashfully, you click your tongue and glance away. There are definitely better ways to greet your significant other. It’s likely he’ll use this against you when he’s feeling particularly cheeky in the future but you won’t worry about that now. You push your body off the wall and point at him with your baton.

"If it was anyone else, they'd be a bloody pulp by now." You prop the bat on the wall and turn away to your kitchen with a shrug. "But, sure, break in any time you want. You're lucky I trust you."

Your words hold a sarcastic nature, almost satirical, but he knows you mean well. The meaning behind them holds a sweetness. An apology wouldn’t have gone amiss but he did technically break in. He’ll hold his hands up and admit fault. Permission has been given at least. Not that he thinks he needed it before but if it saves him another bruise, it’s a win.

You truly love your friends to pieces but, if you’re being honest, they have their individual set of havocs they’d thrust upon your home were it them in place of your boyfriend. Raph the least, ironically enough, but his sai have a nasty habit of poking holes in your couch any time he sits down. Donnie often has a gadget on him you'd be too fearful of setting your furniture on fire. As for Mikey? He’s a food fiend who can and will deplete you of all your snacks. Let's not forget Casey but he’s a walking health and safety hazard if ever you met one. His visiting rights have been revoked after what he did to your Christmas ornaments and it’s the last time you’ve ever and will host for the holidays. You don’t like to talk about it. So, yeah, if there's any one person who can freely invite themself to your home, it's the turtle you love most.

When you’ve finished packing a cloth with ice, you sit Leonardo down and hold it to his head. His face scrunches up before easing and he smiles at you softly. This may not have turned out to be the romantic surprise he thought it would be but he’s glad to be back in your presence - in your home surrounded by personifications of your selfdom.

“That was a good shot, by the way,” he compliments, sporting that impertinent grin you’d expected.

Your teeth clasp down on your bottom lip, fighting an annoyed smile. “Don’t give me an excuse to use your shell as target practice,” you warn but the following kiss to his bruise reveals your empty threat. “But, thanks. Sorry for hitting you in the first place.”

His brows raise at you. “I’m sure you could make it up to me.”

You hum in response and shove the ice pack in his face. Your choice to tend to his wounds after he impolitely infringed on you is you making it up to him. Ungrateful pinhead. He’s lucky you love him. Very lucky indeed.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #leonardo #leo #leonardo 2003 #leo 2003 #tmnt leonardo x reader #x reader #request #answered

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smellrain · 1 year ago

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in which: Jack has liked you for years, but so far you have been oblivious to his feelings. Will the guide he made with the help of his teammate make you fall for him? Or will it end up destroying your friendship?

tags: written, mention of use of alcohol, slight angst. (masterlist for this au) (my masterlist) <prev. part: prologue I next part: ch. 2>

notes: [4.3k] First of all: thank you for your kind words after the prologue yesterday! Very happy that so many of you liked it. There is an analysis post about this chapter here that you might want to check out after! I hope you enjoy :) & come tell me how you liked it!!!

It had been a long day at work for you. The data your boss had assigned you had taken you a lot longer to work on than you’d expected, which meant that you actually, genuinely missed your last lecture of the day. You had texted a barely-even-friend that attended the same elective about her notes but you hadn't gotten a text back so far.

Standing in front of your door now, you leaned the crown of your head against the outside of it and took a deep breath in. You had missed the key hole not once but twice now and the anger that welled up inside of you was completely unwarranted, so you knew you needed to mentally take at least one step back.

Four seconds in, seven hold, eight out. In and out. You blinked once and the dark of the wood was an unwelcome reminder of reality. Still, unlocked the door, this time succeeding on the first try.

The hallway was quiet, but you had expected as much. One of your flatmates had a nightshift at the clinic she was working at while the other was sleeping over at her boyfriends. The blissful silence you had looked forward to this morning seemed suffocating now.

It didn’t matter. It was fine like this, you were fine.

After turning on the kitchen light, you walked to your room, put down your bag and fell down onto your bed, face first. The scratchy fabric of your bedcover was not nearly as nice as the sheets you had dreamed of all day long.

For a while you let your eyes fall closed, not asleep, but resting nonetheless. You just wanted to rinse the day off of you, but you were too hungry to even think about showering.

With a groan you peeled yourself off your bed, sat at the edge of your mattress while an inexplicable urge to cry welled up inside of you. Your day had been really shitty and your were really, really hungry.

But you got up anyway and walked towards the light in the kitchen that shone through through the space of the door to your room.

The music you’d put on in the background helped but it didn’t quite scratch that itch for conversation, for company. When you saw your phone light up from where you had left it on the counter, you hoped it might be the classmate you had texted.

You rinsed off your hands to see who had messaged you.

Jack (worst Hughes brother): hey what r you doing tn? You: currently making dinner why what did you do what do you need Jack (worst Hughes brother): nothing wait why did you assume i did/need sth anyways: can i come over soon?

The shower. You still had to shower, but soon for Jack usually meant at least half an hour. It should be enough time and besides it was just Jack, no reason to put in more effort than necessary.

You: because you always text me when you need my help sure, I might be eating by then, have you eaten? Jack (worst Hughes brother): I did like 5min ago wait no ignore that, you’re telling me I could have had some of yours??? jkjk see you soon

You liked the last message and turned the heat off your stove. Shower first, you reminded yourself, even as you mourned the loss of the start of your dinner that you had been frying on the stove.

When he knocked at your door you were still sitting at the small kitchen table that could barely seat two people. “It’s open,” you said, loudly.

From the sounds you could hear him open and close the door, take off his shoes and leave his bag in the hallway. When he finally came into your view, you couldn’t help but smile. Strange how that worked, considering you had almost cried half an hour ago. Food really worked miracles sometimes. But then again he had always had that kind of effect on you, making you smile despite yourself.

“That’s not very safe of you,” he had said but he was already smiling, “having your door unlocked.”

“Hey you, fancy seeing you here.”

There was a warm feeling curling itself around your ribcage at the look at him, “hey yourself. I left it open because I knew you were coming over, don’t worry about it.”

“Alright,” he conceded, “did you watch the game yesterday?”

“‘Course I did,” you said, eyes following him as he took a glass from the cabinets and filled it up. There was something intimate about that, the ease he carried himself with, him knowing where to find your glassware and feeling comfortable enough to do so while carrying on with the conversation.

There was something in you that ached at the feeling, at having someone that comes home to you. At having someone that just feels that comfortable with you, that you live your life alongside with.

It’s not like you were lonely, you had wonderful flatmates and good friends, but there was just something different about this feeling, about this longing. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, inexplicable as always.

“Good, otherwise I would have felt stupid after my goal.”

You had seen the new ritual he did sometimes that he had been asked about by the media sometimes. He had done it a few times now, more often over this past year. He was approached by his teammates first, but then he was still for a bit, putting his hand on his chest and raising it up after, usually waving once. The warmth that had seeped into your bones crept up to your face, “you did that for me?”

The one time he talked to an interviewer about it, he had said it was a new good luck charm he was trying out.

Because of the small table the two of you sat close and his knee kept bumping into yours, but you hardly paid it any mind. It was comforting, having him here, this close in the low light of the kitchen, cradling one of your glasses in his hands.

Admitting something he hadn’t told anyone else.

“Yeah, of course, had to show my appreciation for my number one fan somehow.”

You laughed a little, “you are such an idiot.”

The smile he gave you in return crinkled up the skin at the corner of his eyes and you wanted to trace that fold with your thumb. What were you even thinking? “I know.”

So you just swatted his shoulder and got up to wash your dish. “Did you guys go out and celebrate?”

Jack turned in his seat, his body facing your back from where he was still sitting at the table, “yeah. It was a really small bar in the middle of nowhere, Nico said he didn’t want to be recognised, despite the win.”

You hummed in response. The constant scrutiny must have been affecting them all after these past few games. “Cool. Did it actually work or,” you trailed off, not really sure how to finish your question.

“Sort of, I mean we took a few pictures when we came in but it was a lot better than usual.”

“I’m glad then,” you said and turned back around to face him, “I’m glad nothing too exciting happened.”

At the word exciting his expression morphed into something odd. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he answered but he wasn’t meeting your eyes anymore.

“You can tell me, you know you can,” you reminded him, now getting closer to him again. You were usually able to get out every last secret of his if you just asked the right questions.

“I know,” he assured you, now pulling you a little closer by your hip and resting his hand there. He had always been touchy like that, arms slung over your shoulders or around your waist, hands holding your wrist to pull you through crowds, thumbs circling your ankle when you rested your legs in his lap.

“But it’s really nothing, I just got a little drunk,” he assured you, but you didn’t really buy it.

Still, you had no real reason to press, knowing that it just made him close up further. He would end up telling you, just not now. “Okay.”

The two of you went back to your room soon after, deciding to watch a movie. You didn’t tell him that you were really, genuinely tired, because you knew he could tell. He always could, somehow, even if you yourself weren’t all that aware of it. Funny how that worked.

You sat down first and then patted the spot next to you on the bed, but for a split second you saw him hesitate. That hurt, just a bit because you had thought that the two of you were close enough for it to not matter anymore.

Still, he leaned against the headboard next to you, his shoulder softly knocking against yours and your worries disappeared at that. You must have imagined it.

“Any preferences?”

“Ratatouille,” you said immediately, not even knowing where that request came from.

He smiled, “I do like a girl that knows what she wants.”

For some reason you blushed at that, at the barely even there implication of being his. You really were going insane today. “Is that okay for you?”

“Sure,” he said, “let's watch the rat be a better cook than the two of us combined.”

You typed the website and clicked play on your screen and settled your laptop down between the two of you, one knee on each side of the bottom of it.

You were suddenly keenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even own a tv, that you were watching a movie from your laptop when he could be at home, watching it on a screen that was at least double the size of this.

It was a stupid thought, so you brushed it off. He was a professional athlete, you were a college student. There was something fundamentally different about your current lives, as intertwined as they were.

The movie started soon after, so you pushed all of that to the back of your mind. At first the two of you ran a semi-steady commentary about what was going on but soon after you were both too engrossed in the story to think about anything fun to say.

When a sharp sound came from the screen you realised that you had your eyes closed. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open again. It must have been for a few minutes, at least because you weren't sure what was going on anymore.

“Tired?” he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.

You let your forehead fall against his shoulder, this time on purpose. It was a welcome contrast to a few hours ago when you did the same thing against your front door. His shoulder was softer because of his sweatshirt and he smelled nice. Like the shampoo he used, like his laundry detergent. You wondered when that smell had become intrinsically his and not someone else's' like a friend of yours that used the same deodorant.

You kind of wanted to drown in it, but you held yourself afloat anyway. He wasn’t yours, you weren’t his. The two of you weren’t like that.

“Had a hard day at work,” you mumbled, a little more tired now than you’d been just moments ago. His presence did that to you, calmed you down when you didn’t even know you were high to begin with.

He lowered your shoulder a bit which made it more comfortable for you to rest your head on it. “You could have said no, you know that, right?”

But you had wanted to see him once you had seen his message. “I know.”

“Good,” he answered, as if it was as simple as that and remained quiet after that.

You tried to turn your focus back to the movie, you really did, but before you knew it your eyelids were drooping again.

Then you were woken up again, this time by Jack.

The movie must have finished in the meantime because he had moved his arm, closing your laptop. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, trying to form a coherent thought but the only thing on your mind was the warmth of him next to you, the dream that just barely slipped out of your grasp.

“Sorry,” you said.

He turned to you, surprised. “What for? If anything I should apologise, I kept watching even when you were tired.”

“You know I don't mind that,” you said. “I just wasn’t very good company today. Sorry.”

Jack knocked his shoulder against you with a little more purpose so you turned to him. “Nope, none of that. I don’t mind, I got to see you, which is all I wanted anyway.”

How could he just say something like that? As if words like these didn’t bore themselves under your skin, living there forever, etching themselves into the white of your bones.

This casually, as if it didn’t just make your heart flutter the same way it did when you were eighteen, back when you had loved him. Still, in your barely illuminated room, late at night you let yourself linger. Let yourself pretend that his words held meaning.

Let yourself pretend that the two of you were different.

You thought about the thousands of times you must have seen him just like this, in the dark, looking back at you.

It was a weird memory that came to you, just then.

Back when the two of you had first met you had been crushing hard. It wasn’t really surprising, now looking back. You had never really gotten a lot of attention by boys growing up, so when he went out of his way to talk to you, you really had no choice but to fall for him.

Liking him had become addicting.

You could still remember the moment you thought he might like you back and the very same moment you knew it wasn’t, probably ever, going to work out between the two of you.

It was at a party, after you had just graduated. You had just come out of the bathroom, alone because your friend was finally, finally talking to the guy she liked.

Then you picked up a friend’s voice somewhere down the corner, most likely from the kitchen. “C’mon your turn now. Who are you crushing on,” Aaron had said. They must still be playing a weird mixture of truth or dare and some other game you had already forgotten the name of.

Your mind immediately went to Jack, the way his hand had brushed yours when he had gotten you a drink earlier that night.

“I don't?” Jack answered, slightly laughing, but there was an air of unease in his voice that you couldn’t help but notice.

“C’mon, Jack don’t be like that,” someone else interjected, and suddenly you were a lot more invested in the conversation than just a moment ago. It was always like that when it was about him.

“There are always so many girls throwing themselves at you, surely you want one of them,” you could hear the other guy’s jealousy from miles away but you weren’t sure if the others picked up on it too.

“I’m serious, I barely have time for my friends already, let alone a girlfriend.” Jack said and there was this tiny spark of hope rising in your chest. Maybe you could change that. Maybe you could be the exception.

“True,” Aaron agreed calmer than usual. You thought he might be noticing the tension waving off of the other guy.

“There is no shame in admitting it,” the other guy doubled down, “what about that one girl? Short, brunette, on the track and field club.”

Oh god, he was describing your friend, the one you had just left with her crush. “Nah, wait I think she has a boyfriend, but what about her friend, the one that Kevin hangs out with.”

You. Shit, he was talking about you. Did you really want to hear Jack’s response? What if he said he didn’t like you? But what if he did?

“She is my friend too, you know,” Jack said, “but she is pretty, I guess.”

He guesses? That kind of really stung. You knew that there was nothing all that memorable about you, but it’s not like you were ugly. A thousand different insecurities that you thought you had worked through rose to the surface and you didn’t have the strength to push them back down.

You had to escape, now, without being noticed and without listening to anything more. Still, your ear couldn’t help but pick up on the rest even as you pushed past that guy that sat behind you in math.

“Jack, don’t be like that,” the other guy insisted, “don’t you want to go up to her and just fuck her? I mean her ass-”

Humiliation. For some reason you felt humiliated and violated. You knew about locker room talk, but you had never wanted to be part of it. Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes and suddenly you could feel every single person that had touched any part of you today, suddenly questioning if it really was accidental.

You had to get out, now. The static in your ear was loud and the bass vibrating through the soles of your feet seemed to turn it up even more. You had run away, texting the friend you came with some kind of bullshit excuse for leaving.

The asphalt outside on the sidewalk was cold, but you sat down on it anyway. You just wanted to cry. Everything seemed so overwhelming and important all at once and you had no idea how to deal with all of it.

Soon you were leaving high school for good, your friends were moving all across the country, you were so fucking lonely and the guy you had been crushing on for a better part of a year didn’t even think that you were worthy to look at.

You drew your legs closer to your body and folded yourself up as much as possible. Growing up seemed scary all of a sudden. There was that one Lorde lyric that said that too, that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Suddenly people were streaming out of the house, all at once. You wiped your tears, looking up at what was happening. In the stream of people you couldn’t make out any of your friends.

Then you heard your name being called. It was Kevin, still standing at his door. He held Jack at the others shirt collar, as if he was holding up a particularly unruly cat that had gotten in trouble again.

Your eyes must not have been red because when you came closer neither boy commented on it. “Get him home,” Kevin said and dumped a heap of Jack right in front of you.

Jack glared back at where Kevin disappeared back into the house, eyes murderous. You had never really seen him act like that, especially to a friend. But then again how well did you really know him?

A beat of silence. You really wondered what on earth had happened for the party to just end. You shifted your weight on your feet. “Do you have a car?” you asked eventually.

Jack brushed past you, “yeah. I’ll drive you home, didn’t drink anything.”

You followed him, but on the short walk back to his car neither of you said anything.

The stereo remained off all the way back to your place. After you had stopped looking at him to try and figure out what had him in this bad of a mood, you looked outside. The neighbourhood was so familiar, and the horribly sad feeling from earlier came up again.

You really needed some kind of distraction. “Thank you for driving me home.”

For a second he remained quiet and you really thought you were going to be ignored. He had always had a bit of a dramatic streak at times. “Of course.”

His expression remained scarily blank. “Can I ask what happened with Kevin?”

“Nothing,” he said, his gaze staring firmly ahead. Then, “I don’t like his friends.”

What kind of response was that? “Okay,” you tried, carefully, “then why did you come?”

“I didn’t know I didn’t like them before tonight,” he said.

Then you looked at the way his hands were gripping the wheel, specifically at his knuckles. Wait- “did you punch one of them?”

He laughed, and the sound bounced off the small enclosure and some kind of happy feeling made your heart swell, even though you had been apprehensive about him just moments ago.

It was a lot longer than your comment had warranted. You really were a bit concerned about him. Should he be driving if he acted like this? “I might have.”

Before you could ask why, because you had never seen him actually punch anyone, he continued, “in my defense, he started it.”

“That’s a shitty defense,” you said, “that just means you have to be the one to take a step back first.”

He only shook his head in response but you were happy he was back to acting like that Jack you knew. “You would have punched him too, I just know it.”

“Sure,” you replied. You had never punched a person because you didn’t like them and you didn’t think you’d start anytime soon.

“Trust me, you would have,” he said and left it at that.

The two of you arrived at your place soon after, so you thanked him and left.

The rest of the summer between highschool and college was spent getting over him, which you eventually succeeded at when he introduced his now ex-girlfriend to you and your friends.

In college you went out on a few dates, but none of them ended up going anywhere. That was fine to you, because it just meant that you were prioritising other things now, like your studies and your friends.

There wasn’t even anything all that similar between that memory and your current situation, but you drew the comparison anyway. His jaw was more refined now, his hair longer and his eyes seemed different now, a bit more mature maybe. Or maybe just a bit more tired.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

It must have been a bit strange, you just looking at him. “You,” you replied honestly. “Do you remember that one party, way back, after high school where you punched someone?”

He groaned and leaned his head back against the wall, his throat exposed. Your gaze lingered there for a bit before returning to his face. Some kind of feeling almost bubbled to the surface at the sound and the matching sight.

“I do.”

“I never actually figured why you did that.” When his gaze remained firmly on your ceiling, you continued, “I feel like now enough time has passed for you to admit why.”

He smiled a bit. “There was this other guy, right? The one I punched, I mean.”

You nodded.

“He was being a real dick about one of my friends, and when he didn’t stop talking about her I just kinda wanted him to shut up. Moved before thinking about it.”

“Asshole,” you commented, not about Jack.

“Right?” he turned his head so that he looked back down to you, “after that one punch I came back to myself but before I knew it Kevin had dragged me out by my collar, shouting that everyone had to go.”

“He must have wanted to avoid a full on fight,” you said.

“For sure, can’t even blame him.” With a mischievous gleam in his eyes he said, “but it felt really good to finally shut him up.”

You laughed, thinking that the entire situation was a lot more dramatic than it really had any reason to be. The laugh turned to a yawn by the end.

“I should leave,” he said but you had the weird urge to ask him to stay.

“Sorry, I’m a lot more tired than I thought,” you said instead.

“Don’t apologise for that,” he said, getting up. He ended up offering you a hand to help you get up as well even though you really didn't need it. You took it anyway.

He picked up the bag that he had left at the door, opened it and turned to you. “I had fun.”

You smiled, “me too.”

“Good,” he offered you a smile in return. You saw his hand reach out and stop for just a second, but before you could ask him about it, he held it against your temple and leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead. He lingered in your orbit for a bit longer than the duration of the kiss, just hovering above you.

“See you soon,” he said, waving, and you replied the same. Then you closed your door and locked it.

You didn’t need to hold your hand against your cheek to feel it burn. What was that? He had never done that before. He had never done anything like that before, ever.

You stumbled to your bathroom, and went through the motions of brushing your teeth and going on the toilet. When you finally crawled under your sheets, you let yourself sink down into them.

Still, you were too tired to properly dissect the entire interaction so instead you closed your eyes. You drifted to sleep, your mind focusing on the tips of his ears that had seemed a bit flushed when he closed the door behind himself.

taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @hughescomplex @lupinslibraries @megaluke @cixrosie (send me an ask to be added!)

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #nhl #nj devils #nhl imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl x reader #ame writes #jhgtfil

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trendywaifus · 11 months ago

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Just the thought of Sunday and Reader bonding because of Robin they hate each other but because it makes Robin happy they will endure

“ erm, this place you picked for us to dine in is. .quite interesting, (name). “ sunday awkwardly comments, looking down at his cheeseburger and fries with subtle uncertainty. the burger seem decent and a bit greasy and the fries are golden brown but needs more salt. he suppose this will do. you shrugged, throwing a fry into your mouth, “ this is a family diner me and robin regularly go to when we visit penacony. she loves the shakes and burgers here. “ sunday merely hums, tentatively grabbing a knife and fork to split the burger into four pieces.

“ is that so? “ he attempts to smoothly cut the burger in half and fails. it seems like the meat is. .a bit overcooked. you have his sister eating at this subpar location and she likes it? unbelievable. “ y’know, you can eat the burger with your hands. .because it’s a burger, sunday. you don’t have to use silverware.” you remark with amusement in your voice, hiding your smirk behind the back of your hand as you watched sunday struggle with cutting through the burger.

“ maybe if the burger wasn’t so greasy and tough, perhaps i wouldn’t think twice about touching such a poor excuse of a burger. “

agitated, you smack your lips with the roll of your eyes, “ don’t be such a drama queen, sunny boy. you know the burger is not even that greasy and the meat itself is just slightly over cooked. keep your royal standards and perfect boy etiquette to yourself, asshole—“

the abrupt sound of the bell ringing and the front door opening echos through the small diner. heels hastily click across the tile floor as a familiar teal–haired woman paces down the isle to you and sunday’s table. all of your agitation melts away when you see robin’s apologetic smile. “ i greatly apologize for being late, big brother and (name)! the interview took longer than i had hoped. “

you smile warmly at her, patting a spot next to you on the booth. “ no, no—you’re okay, my angel. come sit next to me and rest, i’ve already ordered your favorites.” sunday greets her as well with a welcoming smile as she sits down next to you. you drape an arm around her waist and give her a quick kiss on the lips. “ i was just introducing your brother to the food here. don’t you want to see his reaction, robbie? “

conniving little weasel. sunday’s brow twitches. then, his eyes softens when robin’s eyes lights up with curiosity and excitement. “ i would be happy to! i’ve been meaning to tell you about this family diner, brother. the shakes here are delicious. i’m glad that we’re all here to enjoy the food together. “

sunday sighs in defeat and drops the silverware from his gloved hands. he slips off his gloves and sets it on his lap. “ i’m very much delighted to be here for the first time. let me do the honors of taking the first bite. “ he slowly grabs the burger in his hands, secretly cringing as the melted cheese and mayo seeps out from between the buns. sunday brings it to his mouth and takes a experimental bite of it. a surprised hum slips from his throat at the taste. although, the meat is chewy, it doesn’t have a bad taste to it either. the mayo and cheese oddly works well together too.

huh.

“ well? “ you gauge his reaction, not bothering to hide the knowing smirk on your face as you watch him take another bite of the burger. sunday flashes you a quick glare and smiles at robin, who was watching him with a hopeful expression on her face. “ it’s better than i expected. i can see why you took a liking to this place, robin. “ he admits after finishing his bite, grabbing a napkin to wipe the stains off his hands and mouth.

she sighs with relief, “ thank goodness. i was afraid the family diner wouldn’t be to your liking since this is a lot different from what you’re accustomed to. “

you snort, “ oh trust me my sweet, you hit it right on the— “

sunday clears his throat, interrupting you. “ i will say that the food here, specifically this burger, is something that i’m not used to but i quite like it. next time, i insist that you introduce me to your favorite orders here, robin. “

i swear this man has such a soft spot for his little sis. you thought, lazily putting another fry into your mouth while robin and sunday converse with each other. and that’s the only green flag I’m willing to see from him.

#trendy #robin x reader hsr

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taelophone · 2 months ago

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Greek Brothers ˙⟡ — A tutorial. “How do I write Frat Boys?”

OK, A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY WANTED A PART 2. HERE U GO

!DISCLAIMER! Not all frats are the same, and no two people are the same. This is constructed based off of my experience with various types of brothers (and sisters) in Greek life.

Let’s go!

1. TYPES of Frat Boys

Ok, so just to start, to write frat boys in general you are automatically going to need to learn how to write borderline terrible behavior lol. There are many different kinds of Frat Boys, but the one that probably just popped into your head has blonde of brunette hair with a baseball cap, a beer in hand, and horrible manners. Probably a sleazeball, too.

We call those types of brothers Douchebags, or “DudeBros”

DudeBros are basically walking talking himbos. Sports, beer, money, hoes, sex, liquor, lie lie lie lie. Probably has a college bro accent, which TRACES BACK to a Valley Girl accent. Brush up on your Californian, cuz you can’t understand him with his mouth full of gum and his head CONSTANTLY tilted back.

These dudes are more than likely holding some sort of title at the frat. He’s probably VP, Recruitment chair, or house manager. Either way, you’ll encounter them a lot in Greek life. Reaaaallly lean into that whole exaggerated frat boy thing in your writing!! LEAN INTO IT! The stereotypes are very correct lol😭

9/10 he is probably pushing around a pledge, or having one run his errands. Some examples of how he would talk include…

“Yo, pledge, ca’mere? Get this dude some water, and then when he stops throwing up, kick him the fuck out.” ”He’s being a little bitch and there’s mad hoes around and it’s ruining the vibe, bro.” ”Yo, what’s up babes…oh yeah the bathrooms just over there…You’re Gracie’s sister, right? You guys do your makeup the same. Her makeup looks like shit.”

LEARN TO WRITE DISRESPECT!! they are so disrespectful to those they don’t find attractive and are so mean😭 He’s loud, unserious, a twinge misogynistic, and is likely to grab your ass at the party. The second kind of Frat boy, which is actually less talked about, is the Pushover. It’s exactly what it sounds like. He’s new, he’s learning to adjust to the frat, etc etc.

YOUR CHARACTER WILL HAVE MUCH BETTER LUCK COMMUNICATING WITH A PUSHOVER VS A DUDEBRO.

They don’t really get called by their name a lot lol😭 they’re often just referred to as “pledge” and lowkey are still adjusting to the party scene. He’s gonna be quieter, but will exercise his frat boy status when left alone. Literally will ONLY step into that attitude AFTER his brothers are gone.

I don’t think I need to give examples for this kind of dude, cuz he’s really just a quiet nodder.

However, this doesn’t exempt him from being a bad person. Because a pledge wants to earn respect from his brothers, they are going to make him do some INSANE shit. This is how hazing works, so now you know how to write hazing.

His brothers will make him say or do insane shit to girls, and he’s experiencing his first rush of frat power. Is actively forming into a proper frat boy, so try and highlight this by giving him a “softer” tone compared to his brothers. He’s not as loud as the DudeBro, and he kind of speaks with a mumble in his words. Probably has a really bad vocal fry going on too

The third Frat Boy, also the one Luigi falls into is the TechBro.

These guys lack one of two things; Social skills, or open-mindedness. Do not get into arguments w these men you will leave wanting to end it all.

The DudeBro’s right hand man, but not douchey and misogynistic. Is arguably the smartest person in the frat, but literally cannot stfu about his views and knowledge for five seconds. Borders on “scaring away the hoes” and “sexy smart man”

You can ALSO expect these types of men to be in positions of power. Usually a frat treasurer, philanthropy chair, or national advisor.

He’s contrastingly nice compared to most of his brothers but every now and again he will say something that raises a red flag in your mind before trying to re-explain himself better.

some examples of things they would say include…

”Hey girls. Henderson? Yeah no he went upstairs with Rachel. Can you go upstairs? No. Absolutely not.” ”What? Do we have any food? I’m not supposed to be giving you any but we have some Cheez-its in the top cabinet above the microwave.” ”*Lengthy rant about political views (usually libertarian.)*”

Now that that’s OUT THE WAYYY, let’s talk about what they do!

Frat boys actually don’t do much. They attend classes mostly, and every now and again they’ll host a rager. Most parties are genuinely open invite, as I said before, but brother-exclusive parties are literally just keg wars or chapter retreats.

Things I’ll leave you with so you’re not stuck on writing a frat-life event that’s NOT a party;

Recruitment events during rush week

Community service

Game Nights

Brotherhood dinners (sweethearts may sometimes attend these)

Greek Week Comps

#Tatums Tutorials #How to write a frat boy #luigi mangione x reader

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kiokos · 12 days ago

Text

A SOCCER PLAYER’S DREAM

Sypnosis: F/N L/N, isagi's childhood best friend, recently started football. Turns out, they were a prodigy nobody could have seen coming. But it looks like someone's little brother caught their eye.

Genre: Enemies/rivals to lovers, crack, lowk angsty if you squint, cringe sometimes, romance

A/N: sorry for posting this lowkey kinda late… i was writing this in the bus so I has limited time😭🙏

You sighed and settled your phone down, already looking nervous. Doubts started creeping up - could you really do this? On your own, at that? You sat up from your bed and looked down at your packed up bags - you didn’t forget anything, right..?

After checking everything to make sure you didn’t forget anything, you settled back down and thought. ‘Alright, let’s do the maths..’ you mumbled under your breath as you started counting. Rin said it took him about 20 minutes to get from blue lock to your practicing place…

For you, it takes around 20-25 minutes. Adding that to the 20 minutes it takes for him to get there, it should take you around.. 40-45 minutes for you to get to blue lock’s facility!

Okay, that seems reasonable enough. You waited and waited, then saw isagi’s text:

Isagi: come outside, i’m here :3

You quickly grabbed your stuff and ran down the stairs, yelling a ‘goodbye mom!’ Before running outside. You met up with isagi and dabbed him up as you usually do.

(Ignore that that was lowk cringez😭)

You were about to say something until isagi started by saying “okay, so, we have to get there at 6:30 PM, so we really gotta hurry and take the train that comes at.. erm.. the train that comes the soonest!! Come on, we can’t waste time!” He grabbed your hand and started running.

“WAIT, SLOW DOWN, YOU IDIOT!!” You yelled as he practically dragged you to the train station, regretting ever listening to him. Why were you even doing this?? It was all supposed to be a stupid bet and now you got dragged into this whole- nonsense!!

“Nah, I say we go faster!” He said as he sped up and you were struggling just to keep up. Man, this reminded you of the days where you were late for school and he was dragging you out of your house, yelling ‘we have maths as the first lesson today!! You know that mr. Hishaki doesn’t go easy on us when we’re late!!!’ As he yanked you and forced you to run towards the bus.

(Timeskip to when you got to blue lock :3)

You stepped in, and damn was everything like a flipping labyrinth! If it wasn’t for isagi, you would’ve definitely gotten lost.. just as you were taking in the new environment around you, you bumped into someone when you entered the german stratum(?).

As you were about to apologize, you heard him say “pass auf, wo du hintrittst, Idiot.” (Watch your step, idiot.) and you looked up to see.. a guy with blond and blue hair?? He even had a blue rose tattoo! Who is this guy??

Isagi looked pissed off the second he heard him and said “that’s kaiser.” Before handing you an earplug, telling you to put it on.

And so, you did! You put it on, and.. you could… understand what kaiser was saying? So was this kind of like.. a translator? You looked at kaiser and before you could say hi, he said “so, you’re the one who I’m going to have to beat today? How cute, didn’t think I was dealing with a small fry.”

You paused when he laughed. Man this guy pissed you off! “Man - fuck off.” You mumbled before grabbing isagi’s hand and walking away. “Isagi, you’re totally right - barely even met this guy and he already ticks me off. I want nothing more than to punch him in his arrogant face!”

Isagi smirked and said “I don’t wanna tell you I told you so… BUTTT I told you so.”

(Time-skip to when the match against you and kaiser starter.. Ik theres alot of timeskips rn but BEAR WITH ME😭😭 also if some of these don’t sound right just so yk it’s because idk how to write kaiser and my knowledge about football is VERY limited…)

You being nervous was an understatement. You were scared the hell out of your flipping mind. At first, you thought kaiser was no big deal - but even then, you’re lowkey kinda scared.

The kick off started with kaiser having the ball - all you knew about him was that he had a skill called kaiser impact, and that was honestly it.

When he tried to score, you blocked, stole the ball and tried to score your OWN goal, but then he would block you - and that’s practically how half the match went until kaiser scored a goal. ‘Crap!’ Was your first thought.

You sighed and thought about it. This guy was a cocky, arrogant rat. But, with that said, he did have skills. You had 15 minutes left, and in those 15 minutes- you just said fuck it and went all out.

You ran with the ball at your top speed and surprisingly, kaiser was able to keep up. “This all you got, small fry?” He said as he smirked.

And god you wanted nothing more than to punch him and his face and shove it into a trashcan! Wait, no, focus, Y/N, focus.

You brushed kaiser off, ignoring him. Put then - kaiser almost stole the ball from you. Shit. If you lost this, you would loose all rights to ever represent japanese soccer - and that would be it.

As much as you wanted to say you didn’t care, you did. Soccer was the most fun shit you have ever done in your whole entire life - and honestly, you couldn’t see yourself without it.

Without even thinking, your mind went blank. You dribbled past kaiser, and shot the ball straight towards the goal. You were so far away - there’s no way the ball would reach THAT far, right…?

No. You couldn’t barely even think straight, and yet you did it - you scored a goal.

‘It isn’t over yet. One more goal, just one more goal…’ you mumbled under your breath.

You looked at the time: 5 minutes left. Kaiser had the ball, and you stole it from him when you noticed that his attention was divided: and before you knew it, you scored another goal.

____________________________________________

TAGLIST: @kaikaidenkai @ihe4rtme @x3nafix

#blue lock #bllk crack #blue lock smau #blue lock x you #itoshi rin x reader #bllk bachira #bllk chigiri #bllk isagi #bllk x you #bllk x reader

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