#it's cooks stuff and doesn't burn you

[bun-fish]

@britcision your amazing tags have sparked me more Ideas

they absolutely would!!

Danny is not pleased. the spikes get so sticky afterwards and it's not like he can just wipe it off with some Kleenex.

But as long as they made s'mores for him to munch on he's not complaining. So much.

Crown of the Ghost King? Never heard of it. The Stove of Hell, however...

Breaking News: the GK Crown is now kitchenware.

I'm picturing the Fentons throwing a party or something, probably celebrating Jazz getting into uni. they invited lots of people, most came for the renowned Fudge, some came to see the party to crash itself; others (read: A-listers) came to crash the party.

Danny has been assigned the task to set up the snack table. He doesn't mind: it's for Jazz, and he gets to wisk some fudge while putting things out. Maddie had brought out a whole sack of camping marshmallows for him to deal with, and would you please go check if the fireplace is still working, Danny?

Danny dutifully went to see what's going on in the Fenton's fireplace.

short answer: It didn't work.

Long answer: when he turned on the fireplace (it's one of those electric ones) green flames flickered on, then off, along with a cloud of ashes that made him sneeze. Hard. With a ghost fueled breath, the entire thing combusted and made itself a nice little potal. Which proceeded to suck itself in, leaving a hole in the wall behind. Cool.

Not cool.

"Fenton" and "Electric" and "Fire" and "On Button" never mixed well together. Danny should have saw that coming.

Well, the fireplace was gone. What replacements did they have? Danny mentally went down the list. He didn't trust the Fenton Griller; it had eaten all their food last time they had a backyard grill. With similar reasons, the Fenton Stove is a no-go. Maybe the Fenton Flame Thrower...?

Nah. Too risky.

The bag of marshmallows sagged sadly under his loosened grip. The party will be starting in an hour, how was he supposed to get the marshmallows set up? Their s'mores came a close second to the Fudge.

"Hey dude, your mom's asking if you got any meetings with CW scheduled tomorrow. Said she needs hands to clean up 'the dumpster fire this house will surely become'."

Tucker.

"I'm free tomorrow," Danny said, tearing his eyes away from the sad marshmallows. "CW stated as long as I got 5 hours of sleep per night this month, I'm free of any pre-king trainings until December. "

Which he was trying very hard to achieve. He was on his 1 week strike of Acceptable Sleep Time For A Half-Dead Boy. Jazz had been jazzed when he informed her of his accomplishment.

"I don't fancy a King-Stuff-related meeting anytime soon, thank you very much. CW insisted I have them in my ghost king get-up, and I can't see a thing half of the time with that big, stupid piece of..."

He paused.

"Of...?" prompted Tucker.

"... metal. Around my neck."

Tuck did the kind of snort-laugh only he could do.

"Ahhhh, yes, The Magnificent Cone Of Shame-"

Danny threw a marshmallow at him. Traiter.

It was that exact moment, that something, something sparked in Danny's head.

An Idea. A solution.

He turned to Tucker, eyes going to the yeeted-marshmallow he caught and was now munching on without a care in the world. Back to Tucker.

A mischievous smirk spreaded across his face.

"Forget the Cone of Shame- if you laugh again I'm keeping all the fudge from you- it's the Griller of Hell now."

A few seconds passed, and there was the identical grin blooming on his best friend's, marshmallow-stuffed, face.

That evening, on the Fenton's snack table:

Bonus: the Cone of Shame, featuring LBM

DPxDC Prompt where Danny gets ghost king summoned by the JL, but it’s one of those “crown too big for he gotdamn head” situations, and not in a way that looks cool.

It’s just completely obscuring his face, sat on his shoulders with tufts of white hair poking out. 

Danny’s only glad they can’t see him blushing (and that he can hide the damn thing when he’s not actively forced to reveal the artifacts by, say, a fucking summoning).

[forgettable-au]

How are Wingdings’ cooking skills?

They're okay, he's usually good at following the recipe

But if the instructions aren't specific enough then it will go wrong...

He finds cooking a little stressful, so he would rather not

He doesn't have time for that stuff anyway

[vettelcore]

"cooking is relaxing for me" i say, as i start to cry and throw a crepe against the faucet in frustration because they all either burn, break or stick to the pan

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[fmhobeus]

jjk men and their red flags

a/n: i'm feeling problematic :> tell me what u think (agree/disagree/add more?) this is all for shits n giggles !! non sorcerer au kinda

kento nanami — (over)protective

but like... to the point where it feels like he's treating you like a child! he doesnt like to see you sweat or even work at all for that matter. he loves it when you cook but has bought covers for all the knifes. if he sees a burn on your hand get ready for a 10 minute long lecture. if you accidentally fall he wont let you get up for atleast 3 days to help you ""heal."" it's almost like he doesnt trust you to take care of yourself :') he probably has like 3 separate first-aid kits everywhere.

suguru geto — emotionally unavailable

i feel like this is explainable to his character (sort of.) i dont think that he'd make you feel isolated at all, he's be an amazing listener and probably memorizes every word you say. he listens to you rant and even trauma dump with insane patience. but at some point it feels as though you hardly know him. he's talk to you a lot but very little of it is personal and you hardly know what he's thinking because his ass is not tell you. he also unintentionally distances himself from people from time to time. this applies to you too and you can feel him getting emotionally distant sometimes. it isnt something he does knowingly but it sure ass hell bothers you.

satoru gojo — very clingy and needy

this nigga. he is so utterly clingy. and at first it's perfectly fine, even appreciated by you. you still love him like crazy of course but it is just overwhelming. he is like a child most of the time, he need you around him and is always accompanying you wherever you go, and he expects you to do the same. he also doesn't believe in "me time" because why would you feel better when you're away from him: (? want to hang out with your friends? what do you need them for: (? he's right there. he is also physically incapable of listening but boy is he good at making up.

toji fushiguro — controlling

he is so controlling omfg. it's usually subtle but sometimes he will outright just say no to things he doesnt like, not caring if you like them. it gets to the point where he actually starts to change your personality. he is very caring and that's his justification for this typa stuff. it is usually harmless stuff but he gets paranoid often. he doesnt let you wear miniskirts out if you're not with him. he doesn't let you befriend people he thinks are into you. he barely lets you buy stuff on your own, he usually gifts you whatever it is youre into at that moment. borderline turned on by fear and you being dependent on him.

choso kamo — has no social life outside you

pretty self explanatory. he doesnt have many friends outside you and isn't interesting in making them either. total loser. so taking him out to events, he probably doesnt interact much and chooses to look at you the entire time, which annoys your friends. he answers their questions pretty bluntly. he's never down to have people over and lowkey hates when you are.

hiromi higuruma — workaholic

also self explanatory. he leaves early, comes home late. you barely see him on the weekdays. sometimes he goes as far as ignoring your calls when in between cases. he calls you periodically but has to have an alarm set to remind him. he loves you very very deeply but is just used to working non stop T_T

[tbaluver]

Hey (●’◡’●)ﾉ I really love your works and want to request a short/long story about lads guys reaction when they found out mc/reader has a high s*x drive and she's embarrassed about it ✧(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

It's okay if u don't want to ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

I'll understand

P. S: I love youuuu ❤❤❤

If You Had A High Libido- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: MDNI, 18+, suggestive content, oral reader receiving, head canons/ reactions + small smut scenarios a/n: hihi anonnie! i'm so happy to hear you love my works and i hope this was okay lmk ! if not this doesn't exist okay ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) sorry it's taking me a while to write and post stuff i'm currently studying and it's taking up most of my time (っ- ‸ - ς) anyways i hope you enjoy reading ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ p.s i love you too cutie ! your emoticons are soso cute i love them !! (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

poor baby was so confused on why you wanted to go for so many rounds. he thought he wasn't doing enough for you until he asked and that's when you embarrassingly told him about your high libido

"But....do you feel good?" He asked, tilting his head curiously.

"So good, that I can't get enough of you" You whisper, leaning in to press your forehead against his before pressing a heated kiss on his lips.

Xavier is always there to please you whenever you need or wanted him too. He can handle pretty much anything. If he was tired after many rounds, he'll lie down on his back and let you ride him til you meet your sweet release again. He'll give you plenty of options. You can ride his face, his thigh, whatever you want until you were satisfied.

When he says he'll be there for you, he means it. When you were whimpering softly, desperately ignoring the heat growing down there as you try to go back to sleep. You didn't want to wake up your sleeping boyfriend but it seems he was already awake. You felt his arms snake around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

"Would you like me to help you?" He knew you would be lying if you said no, even if he slides his hand in between your legs to find you practically soaking already. You bit your lip, feeling his hard erection against your ass.

Zayne:

He didn't understand why you were so embarrassed about telling him. He knows and can read you so well. You can't hide anything from this man. He noticed the way you bit your lip when he licked off the excess ice cream on his fingers or when your thighs clenched when you watched him get dressed.

He would reassure you that having a high libido is natural to have and there is no "normal" sex drive.

"I can assure there is nothing to be embarrassed about having a high libido." He says, his voice remaining monotone as he adjusts his glasses. "Just tell me how I can help you."

He would not be irritated or bothered at all if you needed him. Although if he was busy with work then he'll make a couple arrangements to make sure he finishes his reports while you get your fill. He'll keep you seated on his lap and let you ride off his thigh or he'll keep a toy or his finger or two in you as he continues to finish his patient report with his other free hands.

He'll know what you want whenever you press your ass against him whenever you both cook or whenever you sit on his lap.

He slips a finger under your panties, pulling them down with ease. His cock was hard and he could feel your cunt soaking quickly. He settles you on top of the counter, slowly pushing his length inside of you. His pace starts off slow as your body hums in response.

“That’s it...just like that's my good girl”

The pot that was already cooking was probably close to burning as you two were distracted meeting your sweet release.

Rafayel:

Oh, He loves it way more than he should and he uses this to his advantage to feed off his little praise kink. He just loves to hear his cutie need him so so bad. Hearing you beg and whine for him is like a siren's song to his ears, attracting him closer to you.

"What's wrong cutie?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as he tucks the stray hair behind your ear. You bury your head in his chest, too flustered to admit you wanted more, even after all the rounds you've done together.

"Want m-more" You murmur, your voice muffled against his chest. He chuckles softly, clearly amused, and continues to tease you while gently stroking your hair. "What's that? You need my dick again? Do you want me to fill you up princess?"

You respond by rolling your hips, grinding against him, hoping he would get the idea.

He'll fill you up everyday or whenever you need him too. He loves watching you beg and drip a mix of yours and his juices down your thighs every time as if you were in heat.

"Want me that much? Gonna fill you up so much." Feeling his cum ooze down your legs, his dick going impossibly deeper inside of you. Snapping his hips as whines escape your lips.

Sylus:

“Satisfied baby?”

Your core ached for more and you silently debated on telling him. You knew if you told him you were satisfied, your vibrator or your hands can’t even compare what he does to please you. You rubbed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache that was forming in between them, not realizing Sylus notices this.

He leaned down, tracing kisses down your jawline, to your neck to grab your attention again. “Use your words baby.” He whispers hotly, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

"M-more Sy.."

It does not take him that long to get used to your high libido. If anything he can match your energy or do more. He'll keep going even if his stamina runs out, if it ever runs out.

Sometimes he's uses this to tease you. While he's away for a couple days, he'll send you pictures of his body. His shirt slightly lifted up to give you a tease of his abs and his v-line peeking above his waistband.

If he was feeling mean, he'll send you a mirror pic of his chiseled abdominal, and his carved v-line leading down to the girthiest dick you're familiar with or he'll send you a video of him stroking his dick to get you riled up. "Need my pretty girl to wrap her lips around it"

You're like a drug to him and he's addicted to you. He wants to spend as much time he has with you and he does not find you to be a bother if you were feeling needy when he was in his office.

He buries his head in your folds and you can feel his tongue in and out of you. You push your hips back to meet more of him as he reaches down with one hand to stroke himself. He groans into you, the vibrations bringing you closer to the edge. You reach down to play with your clit as he fucked you with his tongue.

He needed to be inside you as much as you want him to be.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 2

Danny had to admit, Lunch Lady was an excellent teacher.

Sure they were blitzing though a cook book thst was more tape and hope the paper, but Danny was for once actually understanding and enjoying being taught.

Cracking an egg into a bowl, Danny held it close while whisking quickly, not fully incorporating the flour in his pancake batter before dumping a good sized dollop on the flat top, smiling from the brief sizzle that he heard.

There was a sudden cacophony sounds from the front of house (which was the dining area? He never knew that before) putting the flat top on low, Danny looked over to where Lunch Lady was floating only to find nothing.

Blinking a bit, Danny wiped his hands off OK his apron as he poked his head out, frowning at the diner car, "What was that..." his words were cut off by one of the blinds slats bending as if pried open, and as he squinted, Danny saw two figures watching from a distance ontop another rail car.

Vigilantes

Danny felt his heart flutter with excitement, while not as cool as maybe Martian Manhunter or StarFire (since y'know...fucking aliens, Space) the Gotham caped community were interesting, if only since Batman and his Flock were Sam's low key obsession, she had even gone out as Robin for multiple Halloweens, and don't even get him started on the fan theories about them all.

Smirking he tapped the bar, allowing thr blinds to snap closed, "Sam is so going to flip that I saw the Birds before her." Letting out a little giggled, Danny quickly swore as he smelt a bit of burning and rushed to flip his pancakes.

---

Tim was, in Dicks opinion, the most concerning member of the family, sure most days he gives of "miserable wet cat" energy but even then Dick had seen his little brother easily take down guys that even Bruce had trouble with.

That wasnt even touching on his um...mental quirks

The less he speaks of the time period between Bruce's and Kons deaths till their eventual return, the better.

Putting down the binoculars, Dick stole a glance over at Red Robin, who was frowning deeply at his wrist computer, scooting a little closer Dick leaned over to see what was happening, "Whatcha do~oing?"

So entranced by what he was reading Tim jumped a little, an elbow flying out to where Dicks face had been a second ago as he turned and glared.

"Don't...! Do that Wing! Ugh..." shaking his head as he let out a huff Tim took his eyes off the small monitor and looked up at the diner car, pointing at it as he spoke scornfuly.

"That place does not exist."

"Like, legally? I am sure Batburger doesn't either-"

"No." Tim said, cutting the older vigilante off, "It doesn't exist physically."

"Timmy..." Dick said as he ran through the protocols for when RedRobin got a little too many insane things in his head.

"Get that look off your face Wing, it really doesn't exist, like..." letting out a sigh, the teen tried to put his words right "Don't look straight at it but a bit to the side so it's to the side of your eye." Pointing to a middle distance a bit away from the diner cart, Dick sent a small frown at his brother but did as he was asked.

"Holy leaping lizards..." Tim, somehow, was right, since when Dick just looked about a few feet away from the diner, it started to waver turning...transparent? And a little blue? But when he looked at it closer it was just a normal, abet run down looking diner.

"Exactly, no need to bench me till Agent A stuffs me full of anti-psychotics!"

"That was one time Tim, and you were having a mental break down."

"I am not lying when I say we killed Santa Claus Dick!"

"Sure Tim...sure"

---

Danny drummed his fingers on the breakfast bar, nursing a cup of coffee as he waited for something to happen.

He knew thst he was being watched, he had a vague idea who was doing the watching, but was starting to get a bit bored waiting for them to get closer.

Pausing mid sip, a grin spread across Danny's lips, "Hey cart? Can you do something that might draw those guys over here? Let's get some customers!"

Some how, Danny's grin only grew at the rumble of the cart, and he xould hav sworn he heard a sound that was a mix between a train horn and a chuckle.

---

Tim shot his brother a stinging glare, swatting at his arm as he blushed, he did every much indeed accidentally killed Santa Claus and took an impromptu trip to Apokolips to give DarkSeid coal.

His next rebuttal to Nightwing was cut off as the diner cart shuddered as if it was in an earthquake before it stilled, and the banner that was across it suddenly gained a new line.

[JUST NOW! VIGILANTES AND HEROS GET ONE FREE SIDE OF FRIES! COME ON IN BEFORE THE OFFER ENDS!]

Tim was silent for a moment, watching the cart to see if there was any more changes before turning to Dick, who had lost the joyful energy that he always seemed to have.

"RR, plans changed, we are going to investigate inside."

Tim gave a sharp nod, his bo staff elongating as he grappled down to the train tracks below, his boots crunching gravel underfoot as he slipped from shadow to shadow, getting closer to Big C's diner.

---

Danny was in the back, flipping through his cook book as he heard a bell ring, jolting up, Danny could see through the service window and see who came in.

He had never met a real hero before, not like the two that had just came in, feeling nervous, Danny fumbled with a small notebook as he came out from the kitchen, grinning at the two Birds.

"Heya! Thanks for coming to Big C's! Names Danny and I am kinda the only one in today, what can I get you both?"

His eyes flickered between the two vigilantes, noticing new things each time he looked at them, like how Red Robin's cape had buttons instead of being sown on, or how Nightwings suit wasn't slick but actually textured.

---

Dick looked at everything he could as he stood in the diners door, it looked like a typical 50s styled mom and pop kinda place, an old radio buzzed with songs of a bygone era while the seats were cracked pink leather vinyl.

He could hear someone moving in the back, resting a hand on his eskrima sticks, Dick stalked further in, it felt real enough...

He could feel Red Robin knock into his back as the person from the back came into view, it was a teen, and holy hell did he look like Bruce Wayne adoption bait, raven hair, blue eyes and a cheesy looking grin.

He couldn't be older than Damian, who had turned 16 a few months ago, the teen was just so...tiny.

Danny, that's the name given to them, and Dick can see it, he looked like a Danny.

Pausing to look to Tim, Dick smiled back at the teen, "Well...can we see a menu?"

[inthedarknessofnight]

Steve Harrington has OCD. There are days when he can barely hear his own thoughts. Days when he can't focus on anything else but whatever is triggering him. Days when he just wants to crawl out of his own skin.

No one around him gets it. Like, really gets it. He loves having everyone over at his place, loves filling the empty house with joy and laughter he never experienced as a child. But over and over again, he feels like he can't really be present in the moment. Because he gets stuck in a never-ending loop of mental checklists, pinpointing every single item that will need to be cleaned or put back in its place after they leave. Crumbs all over the couch. Henderson touching everything in his general vicinity with greasy, pizza-stained fingers. People walking straight into the house after swimming in the pool. Rug on the bathroom floor always wrinkled and askew. Tiny specs all over the kitchen that only he seems to notice. He knows they're little things. Unimportant, right? A little mess can't hurt you? He knows... He just wishes his brain would get it, too.

And it doesn't just impact him, either. His incessant bitching sets others around him on edge. That's probably the worst part of it all. Nancy used to get so annoyed with him whenever he'd ask her to not sit on his bed in her 'outside clothes'. He's pretty sure Robin hates cooking with him because of all the rules he has in the kitchen, but she usually just sighs and rolls her eyes. Dustin deliberately misunderstands his requests or, better yet, pretends he doesn't hear him at all.

Not Eddie, though. Because Eddie notices. The way Steve seems unfocused at times, like he's somewhere far away. The way his eyes tend to dart around the room. The way his posture changes when someone unknowingly does something that triggers him. He makes little mental notes of all the triggers and makes sure to remember them. So he starts taking off his shoes at the door, placing them on the rack. He cleans up after the kids, quickly wiping the kitchen counter and floor as Steve's busy walking everyone out of the house. He straightens the bathroom rugs. He wipes the floor after taking a shower at Steve's, so that there isn't a single droplet of water to be found anywhere outside the shower cabin. He changes his clothes before lounging around on Steve's bed. It takes Steve some time to notice everything Eddie's been doing to help out with his triggers.

It's a little after midnight, and Steve has finally managed to kick the little dipshits out of the house. He walks back into the kitchen where he is met with the sight of Eddie crouched down, a whisk broom and dustpan in hand. Something clicks then, stopping him in his tracks.

"Wait... How long have you been doing this?"

Eddie freezes then and glances up quickly, looking every bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh, sorry, it's just- I noticed the stuff on the kitchen floor makes you kinda uncomfortable, so I thought I'd help out a bit," Eddie says softly, like he's scared he's done something wrong. Steve feels something warm spread around in his chest, followed by a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes.

"And the rugs? Was that also you?" Steve's voice is shaking now. But he can no longer prevent it. He's about to have a full-on breakdown in front of Eddie Munson.

Of course, Eddie, the perceptive bastard that he is, has already picked up on what's about to happen. He quickly sets the tools aside and straightens up, taking a few strides towards Steve, ducking his head to catch Steve's downcast gaze. To make sure he's okay.

"Hey, Steve, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have overstepped. I'm so sorry," says Eddie, gently placing his hands on Steve's shoulders to offer a reassuring touch. There are now silent tears rolling down Steve's cheeks, but he brings himself to meet Eddie's gaze nevertheless.

"No, no, Eddie, you didn't. It's just- How did you know?" Steve asks, somewhat hesitantly.

"Because," Eddie moves his hands up to cup Steve's face, looking at Steve like he's trying to see straight into his soul, "because I see you, Steve Harrington."

[what-even-is-thiss]

You want red spaghetti sauce you dump can of diced tomato and can of tomato sauce in a sauce pan and to that you add some onion powder, garlic powder, black pepper, salt, and an italian seasoning blend to taste and if you don't like how acidic it is add a big pinch of sugar. Cover and let simmer on low while your pasta boils. It should probably simmer for at least 10 min so all the seasoning can infuse into the sauce. Stir like every 5 min so the bottom doesn't burn. Taste it before you serve it and if you think it needs more of something add the more something and let it simmer for a few more minutes.

To make the pasta you just boil salty water and add the pasta. Stir it every couple minutes so it doesn't stick. The package will tell you how long to boil it for. If you like you can take it out a couple of minutes before it's done and finish cooking it in the spaghetti sauce but that's optional.

It's a good easy thing to make when you're new to cooking. As you learn more stuff you can add and change stuff and do more complicated things if you want. Dice onion and garlic, cook mushrooms or meat to be in the sauce, make your own seasoning blend, experiment with different stuff, use fresh herbs, add cheese or cream or alcohol as you like. But there's no problem with using seasoning blends and dumping some cans of stuff into a pot.

[bbluefllame]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 .ᐟ

synopsis: the boys taking care of you when you're sick ! (smau + hcs cs I love domesticity and I was listening to w2e and laufey)

chars: keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki

note: I was sick and mentally ill (devastating combo...) so! this was made cs I missed my babies. also, touya being rehabilitated (as always)

k. takami

- He rarely ever gets sick, so he gets home and starts panicking when he sees you next to the toilet throwing up and looking like death

- his ass is literally like “I know what to do, don't worry!” while he's running to the kitchen to google what to do before forcing you to chug medicine

- I've never seen someone more overprotective than him when you're sick. He'd be telling you to lay down the second you drag yourself off the bathroom floor

- God forbid you do any work around him, he'd give you the mom stare and tell you to go to sleep (like his ass even sleeps when he's sick…)

- he'd attempted to make chicken noodle soup but failed miserably. He put in too much salt and was like “it's fine, electrolytes are good, right??” Then he gives it to you, and even with broken taste buds, you can tell it's ass😔

- he's trying he swears, he's js not the best at taking care of sick people😔✊️ even though it kinda sucks he does put in a lot of effort and it's honestly pretty sweet even if he fucks up half the time! (When ur better tell him he did well, he'd melt even if he knows he sucked)

t. todoroki

- he doesn't know SHIT about being sick, patching up wounds and burns? ez. anything else? absolutely fried, COOKED!

- if ur horribly sick, he'd call his mom and fuyumi for advice. He'd be really aggressive while doing stuff for you, almost like he's mad, but he's not he's js aggressive 😭😭

- sucks in the kitchen, he's trying to turn on the stove but it doesn't work (or so he says), he runs back home and rei gives him a tub of soup to bring to you.

- he pretends he made it btw, reheats it and brings it to you on a tray, then goes “yeah I made it” when you praise him he looks proud and tries to hide his smile as if he fr made it (you know he didn't but ignore it)

- reads to you, don't ask why I think that he js does ‼️ you'd be laying your head on his shoulder and he's reading to you til you sleep (he's so cute clutching my stomach SOBBING)

t. shigaraki

- there's touya clueless then we have tomura clueless, tomura was taken care of by kurogiri if he got sick so he wouldn't really know what to do. He'd js try and copy what he remembers kurogiri doing😔 (he's trying his best okay‼️‼️)

- he'd do what you asked no questions, except he usually doesn't know what to do so he's js walking around clueless going “I know how to do this” (he doesn't know)

- unexpectedly, he's actually really good at making soup. He was gonna ask the chefs in the plf mansion, but he decided to try (soup is the only thing he can make without it burning)

- if you said it tasted good, he'd be grinning so hard thinking he's a chef and being all cocky & shi🙄🙄 like it wasn't allat calm down!

- when you came to find him, he jumped cs of how dead you looked and said damn, if u js started cussing him out he'd be stuttering and apologizing while trying not to giggle (beat his ass pls) (he should've stayed lost)

[collaredsoldat]

Domestic Winter Soldier / Soldat Stuff

warnings: PTSD | Slight self-harm | Mentions past abuse

a/n: Idk I wanted to write this because he deserves some love even when he's the soldier. Various hcs about domestic life with the Winter Soldier. Actual fics in the works. I run four blogs so I try to balance it all. Not edited ignore mistakes.

Soldat is a little awkward with home life at first. He isn't sure what to do, being free from constant control isn't something he can easily adjust to.

He looks to you for commands all the time. Can he sit? Can he go to the bathroom? Can he sleep? Can he eat? Every little thing he does. You have to reassure him that he doesn't need to ask permission for anything, but he still does.

He sometimes gets snappy at you, since he still can't decide whether or not to trust you 100% or not. He can't understand why someone is being so nice to him.

Sometimes he accidentally breaks something and he flinches away from you, or he hides out of fear. You have to coax him out, telling him it's okay and that you're not going to hurt him. He always hesitates.

He struggles to sleep so he comes into your room most nights and stares at you or roughly shakes you to wake you up. "Can't sleep." he speaks lowly, and he grunts and climbs over you into your bed, never waiting for a response. At first he sleeps away from the door, but as time goes on he moves to sleep closest to the door in case any unlucky person breaks into your apartment.

Very much like a cat, he stays back but when he wants attention he sort of just...flops near you and demands it by laying on you somehow, or sitting super close so your bodies are touching.

He watches you cook a lot. He sits down at the counter and watches or he stands over you and watches. Sometimes you have to pull him away from the stove because the oil will burn him and he doesn't bother moving away on his own.

He's much more curious than you'd think. He watches you do a lot of things, almost as if he's never seen anything like it. Something as simple as brushing your hair or doing laundry, he's mesmerized by it.

When he's not watching you do something, you notice that he just stares a lot. He always watches you, at first out of uneasiness, but then...just because. He's always watching you, almost like he's worried you'll disappear.

You help him shower, he doesn't like touching his scars. He tries to rub them away, and he's tries to claw his metal arm off. So you help him clean to prevent him from going into one of those episodes of hurting himself in that way.

He used to get aggressive when you came around him when he was naked, treating you like some big threat, but you realized this was something more than just fear. It took a lot for him to get comfortable enough to allow you to touch him in the shower/bath.

For being so heavily trained as the best assassin, he's quite accident prone. Nothing major, but enough to warrant some kind of care. He feels a little confused whenever he gets hurt by accident, like he never expected the corner of the table to leave a small cut on his flesh arm. He focuses too much on things he knows hurt, that other things go unnoticed.

He learns to cook with you some days, he was tired of just watching. It's a good way to show him you trust him too, letting him handle things like knives or sharp objects without worrying he will hurt you.

You learn he really likes pie. Apple pie especially.

You also learn the alarm on the oven is too loud for him so you use your phone instead.

If you bring him out with you, he's very protective. His head is on a swivel, constantly observing everyone around you. He stays glued to your side, not letting you take many steps away from him.

Gets overstimulated easily.

Sounds that are similar to a blender or electricity freak him out. A bug zapper is also a sound he hates.

Some foods he looks at with newfound curiosity, like he hadn't seen them before. There are things he doesn't even recognize, newer or modernized things, he didn't know what to think. What the hell is an air fryer? How do you fry with air??

Get one and watch how he looks at it with amazement and confusion.

He seeks out spaces where he can be alone a lot, he needs space sometimes and you understand.

During bad episodes he sometimes disappears from your apartment, making you panic a little each time. You find him in alleys or the streets from time to time, he never wanders too far. You are worried sick but your priority is to get him back home.

It's hard for him to show it, but he does appreciate you and everything you've done for him. He gives you hugs from behind a lot, sometimes he whispers a word to you, but mostly he's silent.

He likes puzzles. He likes putting them together. Maybe because he himself feels like there are so many pieces of himself missing and it's satisfying to fill a picture.

One thing that calms him down are fresh cookies. Chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven, he can go from high strung to calm and docile.

He hates porridge and/or oatmeal. It's too similar to the things he was forced to eat in HYDRA. Tasteless slop, he can't stand the texture.

He loves when you brush his hair. His scalp is sensitive since he had his hair yanked and pulled so much, but you're always gentle. He loves feeling your fingers run through it and it puts him to sleep within minutes.

You're the only one who can touch his scars. Not that he is close to anyone else, but he doesn't fight you when your hand roams over where metal meets flesh.

Watches over you when you sleep a lot, his eyes glued to the door and his ears alert to every single sound. He stays up until he literally can't keep his eyes open.

He's very attached to you and never wants to leave you, ever.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 4: Tropical Heat

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: The first day on Glenn's yacht is much more dramatic than you originally expect.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, sugar daddy/baby vibes, food and alcohol consumption, intoxication, reader gets drunk and snippy, mentions of past infidelity, flirting, sexual tension, jealousy, one tiny daddy reference, nausea/vomiting, joel gets mean but he makes up for it (he sucks at feelings)

WC: 8.5K

Series Masterlist

"I'm so excited for tomorrow. Glenn's yacht is supposed to be massive. Like, full crew, multiple levels. The type you'd usually charter but he actually owns it." Zoe sighed dreamily next to you at the hotel salon. You were listening but your eyes were pinned on your nails, watching as the technician managed to make your hands look like they were out of a catalogue in less than an hour.

"Yeah, that - it sounds really cool," you replied. "Should be fun. Joel said there's some tiny islands we might check out or something."

Zoe nodded excitedly. "Zach said there's one called Monu Island. We're supposed to have dinner there the first night."

"Dinner? How?" you asked. She looked at you like you had two heads.

"The crew brings the stuff to shore for us and cooks?" she said as if she were explaining how to ride a bike. Shit. You probably should have known something like that if you were pretending to be in the upper, upper class.

"Oh, yeah, I knew that," you said with a nervous laugh, "I meant how are they going to get us off that yacht? The more I keep hearing about it, the harder it's going to be to pull me away from it."

Zoe giggled and you inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Maybe you can convince Joel buy one for yourselves. He can certainly afford it," she told you with a wink.

"Yeah, and Zach can't?"

She shrugged, smile still stretched across her face but you could see something shifting in her eyes. "Can I tell you something?"

You nodded and leaned a little closer.

"I don't think Zach's doing very well. Business-wise."

Your eyes widened, encouraging her to continue.

"I don't know for sure, but I have overheard a few conversations and I get the feeling if he doesn't win this bid, his hotel chain is done for."

"Oh, no," you breathed, brows crinkling with concern. "Zoe, I'm so sorry."

She gave you a confused look but quickly recovered. "Oh, thanks. It's no big deal, you know. I'll be just fine."

What did that mean? Zoe would be just fine if Zach went bankrupt? How?

You wanted to press her further but you could tell the door closed. She was looking down at her freshly manicured nails with a huge smile then held them up to your face and wiggled them around.

"What do you think?"

She had picked a white nail polish with a faint hint of sparkle. The color did look very nice against her tanned skin and you told her so right when your technician released your hands, announcing you were all set. Pulling your fingers from the blue light, you admired them up close.

"Alright, I'll admit it. I questioned your color choice before but damn, that looks so pretty on you," Zoe said enviously as she examined your hot pink nails with a glitter top coat.

"Thanks," you gushed, hardly able to tear your eyes away after you left the salon and headed for the elevators. You could count on one hand how many times you ever got your nails done in the past and it was always for a special occasion: prom, a wedding... maybe once when someone got you a gift certificate for Christmas. It felt like such a treat and it gave you a nice little confidence boost.

You waved to Zoe when she got off on her floor, vowing to see each other in the morning bright and early on the dock, then rode the elevator the rest of the way to your floor.

It was difficult to contain your excitement when you entered the room, but you remained quiet because you heard Joel's voice carrying from the living room. He had someone on speaker who was discussing budgets and employee turnover so you snuck past him and headed towards your room to pack.

How much does one person need for two days? Not a lot, probably. But you weren't very clear on the dress code. Was this going to be casual? You already noticed if Glenn organizes the parties, the vibe is much more relaxed but Mary tends to make it a little more formal when she handles things.

After packing a swimsuit, two coverups, one set of pajamas (which you agonized over when you remembered you would be sharing a bed with Joel), and three different options for daytime wear, you went back out into the living room to see if Joel would know what you should pack for the evenings.

"Joel?" you asked softly when you spotted him sitting quietly on the couch with his eyes closed. He tilted his head to the side and slowly opened his eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked. He nodded and stood with a groan.

"Just tired," he said right when his laptop chirped with two new emails. He began to walk towards the table but you were closer. You bravely closed his laptop with two fingers and he froze.

"C'mon, what're you doin'?" he asked, taking another step, but you shook your head and leaned forward, resting your weight on the arm that was holding his computer closed.

"You need to take a break," you told him firmly. He scowled and crossed his arms.

"I'll be takin' a break when we're on the damn yacht."

"Taking a break on the weekend is a given. You work around the clock, Joel, you need to slow down."

"I don't got time for this," he told you with a shake of his head. "I'm busy, I got a company to run."

"Well that's just too bad because I have dresses to try on and I need help picking ones to pack," you told him just as sternly. His eyes flickered up to yours and you could practically see the gears in his head turning. "I think that's far more important than some emails, don't you think?"

His mouth twitched and you could see his face soften and you knew you had him.

"Fine. Ten minutes," he relented. You grinned and skipped off to your room, and only when your back was turned did he allow himself to smile.

Joel sat patiently on your bed while you tried on the handful of dresses you grabbed and put in the bathroom, waltzing back into your room every few minutes with a new one to show him.

"Darlin', I already told you. You look good in all of these."

"Yeah, but which ones are your favorites?" you pressed, doing a little twirl so he could see the back of the pink dress you were currently wearing. "And what will we be doing? Like, how formal are these evenings going to be?"

He shook his head, his eyes glued to the curve of your back when you spun around again. "Not that formal. One night we'll be on the beach, the other night just on the deck."

You nodded and tapped your chin with your finger. Any of the dresses you had would do now that he told you it wasn't that formal, but you were pushing twenty minutes of no laptop or cell phone useage and you really wanted him to take a longer break from work, so you had an idea.

"Okay, just one more. I'll be right back," you told him, scurrying off to the bathroom to slip into a deep purple dress that just so happened to be the shortest one in the bunch by a mile. You weren't sure what Joel's assistant was thinking buying you something so short and tight. When you looked in the mirror, the fabric clung to your curves, leaving very little to the imagination with only two thin spaghetti straps to hold it up.

Obviously it was too inappropriate to wear on the yacht, but that didn't stop you from taking a deep, nervous breath and strolling back into your bedroom with what you hoped was an air of innocence.

He was leaning back on his elbows when you walked in, eyes drifting around your room and taking note of the items you kept on your nightstand, but when he saw what you were wearing he straightened right up.

"What do you think?" you asked as you twirled, but that time you made sure to take it slow.

"It's, uh..." his throat when dry when he saw how perfectly the dress hugged your ass and he had to clear his throat. "Nice," he finally managed to say. You fought back a smirk when you heard the strain in his voice.

"Yeah?" you asked, looking down at the dress. "I don't know, the material is a little rough."

Joel swallowed when you ran your hands slowly down the fabric, your palms traversing over your soft curves, making his fingers twitch.

As if you read his mind, you looked back up at him with a little pout and asked, "you wanna feel?"

Without hesitation, he spread his knees and beckoned you over with two fingers. You grinned and stepped forward, stopping when you stood between his legs, his mouth mere inches away from your stomach.

You could feel his hot breath through the dress and you had to suppress a tingle down your spine, but when he lifted his hands to cup the backs of your bare thighs, you couldn't hide your reaction that time. You made a little noise in the back of your throat when his fingers squeezed your legs and he looked up at you, eyes so dark and filled with lust that it took your breath away.

"This okay?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, your hands coming up to his shoulders so you could balance yourself. His fingers inched up your legs slowly, tentatively exploring without giving into his deepest desires. But fuck... if he wanted to, you would have let him.

He slid his hands up the sides of your thighs, his fingers catching a bit on the hem of your dress before reaching your hips. He caressed the material there with both hands, each of you still pretending as if the fabric of the dress was any concern.

"See what I mean?" you whispered. Slowly, he nodded, but his eyes remained pinned on your body, his gaze drinking in every inch of you, committing you to memory.

"Fuck, you look good," he murmured as if it pained him, letting the facade slip for a moment. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you began to play with the curls on the back of his head. He tilted his chin to look up at you, his lips parted and his cheeks a little flushed. Nothing else had happened since that afternoon in the ocean when he kissed you other than leaving you completely confused about the nature of your relationship. But in that moment, you couldn't care less. All you wanted was to feel his lips on yours again, to feel that spark of electricity over your skin, so you leaned down a fraction, your gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips, making your intention crystal clear.

Just as you were about to brush your lips against his, he pulled his head away and dropped his hands. Immediately, you straightened back up, embarrassment warming your face while you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

"We can't," was all he said, eyes drifting to look everywhere except at you. You nodded and quickly stepped back, shame coursing through your veins.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking a bit. You cleared your throat and repeated yourself then hurried out of the room to get changed.

Joel called your name, asking you to come back, but you were too ashamed. Instead, you slipped back into the bathroom and practically ripped the purple dress off out of anger, vowing to tuck it way back into the depths of your closet so you wouldn't have to look at it the entire rest of the trip.

By the following morning, you forced yourself to brush off the awkwardness with Joel from the day before. You had three more weeks to spend with him pretending to be his fianceé and you refused to let one uncomfortable situation dictate the rest of your time there. So you plastered on a big smile for him the next morning when you exited your room with your bags in each hand. You could tell he wasn't sure how to react. He tiptoed lightly around you, making sure he didn't even accidentally touch you as you both moved around the hotel room collecting everything you would need.

In the elevator ride down to the lobby, he tried to bring it up but you cut him off before he could even finish his sentence.

"Did you remember your seasick medication?"

He floundered for a moment, scanning your face for any sign of bitterness, but he found none. If you wanted to pretend it never happened, that was fine by him.

"Yeah," he finally said, and you nodded before turning to stare straight ahead at the closed elevator doors.

He didn't try to mention it again.

When you arrived at the dock with the sun just beginning to peek over the water, casting the ocean in a beautiful golden hue, you felt your mood instantly improve. You were in fucking paradise and nothing was going to ruin that for you.

The crew was loading up your belongings and you were chatting with Glenn and Mary about how excited you were when Glenn's phone pinged in his hand.

He tugged his glasses out of his shirt pocket so he could read the text and he let out a disappointed groan.

"Ian's got food poisoning, Harry says," he told the three of you, "they can't make it. That's a damn shame."

"Oh, that's terrible. I hope it's not too serious," Mary said sympathetically.

You heard the telltale sound of heels tapping on the wooden planks behind you and you turned around to see the rest of the couples, along with Trevor and Brooks, arriving. The crew hurried past to assist with their bags and for the first time all day, Joel wrapped an arm around your waist. Your muscles stiffened at first and he felt it. Guilt washed over him before he cleared his throat and lifted his other hand in greeting. Zoe spotted you and waved excitedly, her energy just as infectious in the early morning hours.

When you spotted Tammy a few yards behind Zoe, your smile faltered a bit. You still hadn't brought up what you learned to Joel. Did you even have a right to know about his past with Tammy? You thought you did given how it could blow your cover, but maybe it was just gossip.

Still, it got under your skin.

When Zoe greeted you with a hug, you caught the look of distaste Tammy shot to Lynne before turning her head to gaze out over the ocean. It couldn't just be in your head at this point. There was definitely something going on with these women that you were not privy to yet.

Joel took your hand and lead you aboard the yacht, once again feeling the discomfort at his touch radiating off you.

He handled everything all wrong, he knew that almost immediately. It was all his fault. He was weak that day in the ocean and couldn't stop himself from kissing you, and now you were confused and hurt, but there was a reason he didn't want a traditional sugar baby agreement. He needed to keep his eye on the prize and stay focused, not standing there pretending to admire the lavish sitting room Glenn was showing everyone while wondering if you were wearing the lingerie he purchased for you.

How the hell did you manage to weave your way into his psyche so fast?

After the tour of the yacht, which was luxurious and had three levels, you were shown your private rooms, all of which included your own bathroom and a window so you could admire the sea from bed.

Joel ticked his jaw to the side as he looked around while you began to unpack a few of your things.

"I can sleep on the floor," he said. Your back was to him but he saw your hands freeze inside your bag before you took a deep breath and continued to pull out your toiletries.

"Don't be ridiculous. We can manage two nights in the same bed."

Even though you couldn't see him, he nodded anyway. He should just say it. Say he's sorry. Sorry for all of it. Sorry for leading you on, sorry for hurting your feelings, sorry for staring at your legs and wondering what they would feel like wrapped around his head.

The guests slowly made their way into the indoor sitting area once they settled in. If there wasn't an entire wall made of glass so you could look out the back of the yacht, you would have thought you were in another mansion. The carpet was plush and white under your feet. When you saw how pristine it was, you almost wanted to ask if you should take your sandals off, but instead you took Joel's lead and left them on.

There were three long, white couches that formed a U shape around a large, cherry wood coffee table. Above your heads the ceiling was dotted and lined with soft lights, giving the whole room a very warm and inviting glow. Abstract art hung on the walls but there wasn't much space: any wall that bordered the sea was made of glass. And across from the couches, built up against an interior wall was a bar that appeared to be stocked with every liquor and mixer known to man.

The crew had poured glasses of champagne and mimosas and left them on the bar. They were standing at attention against the wall near the kitchen, waiting to jump into action if need be.

Joel picked up two mimosas and handed you one. You nearly declined when you noted the early hour but decided to take it anyway with a quiet thanks.

"Meant to tell you, I like your nails," Joel said, pointing to your fingers wrapped around your glass. You gave him a small smile before looking back down at your glittery, hot pink nails.

"Thanks," you said, wishing you felt as excited about them as you were yesterday.

Glenn clapped his hands loudly, commanding the attention of the room. He let everyone know breakfast would be served on the dining room on the deck in ten minutes and encouraged people to grab a drink before heading out.

The moment the glass doors were opened, your senses were overcome with fresh, sea-salt air and an occasional fine mist that was being vented above the partially enclosed area.

Everyone found a seat around the square table that was already set with beautiful white plates trimmed in gold with matching bowls and mugs. When the crew began to place trays of fruit, baked goods, meats, eggs, and yogurt on the table, you leaned into Joel and tapped his shoulder.

"Did you take your medicine?" you whispered.

He smiled and put his glass down so he could fish the bottle of pills from his pocket.

"Thank you. That woulda been ugly," he joked, making you giggle before reaching for the tray of fruit. His chest warmed at the sound, pleased to see you smiling again but damn near giddy that he was the one to make you laugh.

You weren't terribly hungry but you nibbled at some fruit and yogurt, knowing you should at least try to eat something if you were expected to keep up with the way the group drank.

After about an hour at the table where you nursed the same mimosa Joel had given you earlier, Glenn stood up and suggested the men go to the top floor for cigars and poker.

"Looks like it's just us, ladies," Mary said gleefully when all the men began to place their cloth napkins on the table and, collecting their own drinks, stood to follow Glenn up the stairs.

"You good?" Joel asked softly before he left. You quickly nodded and shooed him off. You were still feeling rather vulnerable from being shot down the day before but you could feel yourself coming around. Maybe some distance and distraction would help.

If only you knew what the day had in store.

By noon the sun was blazing, the heat seared your skin as you laid out on your lounge chair with the other women. You could smell the faint hint of cigar smoke and hear the laughter from the men up above, but you couldn't see them from where you were. Occasionally you would hear Joel's voice, his southern twang becoming deeper and louder the more he drank and you found yourself smiling.

You were at least three drinks deep and you felt completely relaxed. All your concerns drifted away, getting twisted in the breeze and floating over the water. You even managed to find Tammy somewhat tolerable as you listened to her tell the group about her teenage son and a girl he was dating.

Maybe Zoe was wrong. Maybe it was just a rumor. Tammy seemed to be happy and fulfilled. She had what appeared to be a very strong marriage with Scott and they had two boys. By all accounts, they appeared to be a very happy family.

"I think I'm gonna take a break in the shade," Zoe announced, fanning herself while she picked up her things.

"Okay, dear. There should be chilled bottles of water out but if not, just ask the bartender. He can get you whatever you need," Mary told her while she adjusted her enormous sun hat.

"I think I'll join you," you said, suddenly feeling like your mouth was coated in sand. You couldn't even remember drinking any water since the hotel that morning.

The three other women waved politely when you stood and followed Zoe back inside where the air conditioning embraced you like an old friend.

"Oh, god, that feels nice," you groaned. The room was empty except for one bartender who was taking stock of the liquor with a clipboard. He quickly set it aside when Zoe approached and asked for two waters. You picked a couch and set your things down next to you with a sigh, then thanked Zoe when she handed you a frosted glass bottle of water.

Both of you practically chugged your respective drinks in under a minute, then giggled when you realized how crazy you must have looked.

"We gotta pace ourselves," Zoe said with a grin and a shake of her head. "It's gonna be a long night. Zach said we aren't supposed to reach the island til six, and with the time it will take for the crew to set up and cook, we'll be eating dinner late."

"That means we'll be getting back here even later," you said, finishing her thought.

She nodded and tossed her hair over her shoulder, her eyes a little glassy and her cheeks a little pink, either from the sun or alcohol or both. But based on the way she couldn't stop laughing at the smallest thing, you suspected alcohol was the bigger reason. When she glanced at you and erupted into a fit of giggles again without having to say a word, you knew for sure she was a little past tipsy.

"What?" you laughed, her silly mood too contagious to resist.

"Nothing, nothing," she said with a wave, then seemed to think about it for a second before giving you a mischievous grin and leaned forward, cupping her hand around her mouth in an attempt to muffle her voice, but it didn't work.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

You shrugged and nodded. "Sure."

She giggled again, slapping her palm over her mouth and tucking her chin against her chest. You frowned and laughed at how ridiculous she was acting and wondered what on earth she was about to say.

She cupped her hand over her mouth again and whispered loudly, "how is Joel in bed?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at her question. Instantly, images and daydreams of what you thought Joel would be like in bed flashed across your mind. What the weight of his body would feel like pressed against yours, pushing you into the mattress. How his lips would feel wrapped around your nipple, his teeth teasing and pinching your skin. Would he kiss you slow and deep or passionate and needy? Would he groan your name when he buried his cock deep inside you? What was his favorite position?

All these things and more you had found yourself wondering more times than you could count since a few days ago in the ocean. He had completely taken over your mind to the point where you could hardly remember the girl you were when you first met, sitting in his office ready to storm out because of his abrupt and seemingly unpleasant nature.

You cleared your throat as you bought some time to scrounge up a lie.

"He's... good. Really good," you added. She nodded excitedly and rolled her wrist, urging you to continue. "He's attentive and... he doesn't rush." You could feel your cheeks heating up when you realized you were just telling her what you wished he was like, what you wished any of the men you had been with were like, only to always fall short in some way or another. "I'm not saying he can't be-" you glanced over your shoulder before lowering your voice, "rougher, because he can. There's been times I can hardly move after," you giggled and she gasped enthusiastically. "But he's always so sweet when we're done. He takes such good care of me, gets me whatever I need, tells me how beautiful I am." You swallowed, feeling only slightly pathetic at how you were turning yourself on with your own lies.

"How about Zach? What's he like?" you asked, changing the subject. Her face fell and she waved you off before taking another sip of water.

"Girl, c'mon, you know the answer to that."

Now it was your turn to gasp but the corners of your mouth twitched into a playful smile.

"What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes at you and sighed. "You've seen him. He's not hiding anything spectacular, I promise you that."

Zach was significantly older than Zoe. Their age difference especially showed when he stood after sitting for a while, groaning deeply and usually needing a hand to steady himself, or when his phone alarm went off at various times during the day, volume practically maxed out, reminding him to take some pill. But you never got the impression Zoe was unhappy until now.

"So why are you with him?" you asked. Of course, you had to assume his money had something to do with it, but her answer was still not what you expected.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked conspiratorially. You nodded and leaned forward. Zoe glanced around to make sure nobody else snuck into the massive sitting room before she whispered, "I'm a sugar baby."

"Y-you're... what?" you asked, your voice wavering. Fuck, you really wished you didn't have that last mojito. You were trying to keep your cool but your vision was swimming and your mind was buzzing.

"I think Tammy and Lynne suspect something. I think that's why they don't like me," she said, leaning back and gazing out to the ocean. "Nobody knows for sure, you can't say a word," she said, fear suddenly gripping her. "If Glenn found out, it would be over for Zach. Glenn holds way too much weight on family shit. He already isn't thrilled with our age difference," she sighed, gazing down at her freshly manicured nails. "But between you and me, I hope he doesn't get this land. He wouldn't be able to afford me anymore. Like, I want what's best for him and I want him to be happy, but this relationship is running its course, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," you breathed, "wow, I had no idea."

She shrugged and picked up her phone. "It's really not a bad gig, but it would be a hell of a lot better if the guys looked like Joel instead of Zach," she giggled.

You laughed softly and took another sip of your water, your mind reeling. The pressure to pull off this little stint was mounting. Joel wasn't the only one who noticed Glenn was a man with family values and tried to do the exact same thing, and now more than ever Joel's alleged affair with Tammy seemed like a huge loose end that could jeopardize your whole lie.

Your nerves got the best of you. Looking back on it, you should have realized that before having two more drinks with lunch, but Zoe's bombshell left you rattled and you got carried away.

Around four in the afternoon, the men returned from the upper deck with their skin pink and their shirts a little damp from sweat, but they were all smiles when they stepped out onto the deck to find their partners with the exception of Glenn's sons, who came by themselves.

Joel didn't notice at first how tipsy you were because you did your best to hide behind a pair of sunglasses and a large hat. He sat down on the lounge chair near yours, looking like he had a couple drinks himself but not nearly as many as you. He appeared relaxed and at ease, no doubt pleased by whatever progress he made with Glenn in the past few hours.

"How's everythin' goin' down here?" he asked, his eyes scanning around the crowd of people who were beginning to mingle.

"Good," you said, "I found out some very interesting information that-" you hiccupped and covered your mouth, "that you would find interesting."

He raised an eyebrow at you and smirked. "Interesting information that I would find interesting?"

"Mhmm," you said, nodding vigorously this time. "I will tell you later," you added, unnecessarily enunciating each word, "when we're alone," you whispered, not realizing your voice was still rather loud. It didn't matter anyway, nobody could overhear you when the guests were all breaking up into groups and talking over each other, but still.

He grinned and glanced around the deck, "Alright, then," he replied. He was about to say more when his eyes landed on someone over your shoulder and he stiffened. You were too slow on the uptake to see what Tammy was mouthing to him, but when he subtly nodded and stood up, you glanced behind you to see her walking discreetly into the yacht, leaving her clueless husband behind.

"I'll be right back," he said to you, and before you could say anything to stop him, he strolled off in her wake, leaving you all alone.

You could blame the alcohol and pretend you weren't jealous, but you were absolutely fuming. Zoe had to be right. How could he be so careless? Did he really think nobody would notice? How could he not tell you about his history with Tammy when it could all blow up in your faces?

Then something occurred to you that made your stomach roll and you had to take a few deep breaths to fight back the wave of nausea.

What if they were still having an affair?

Is that why he didn't want to take things further with you? We can't, he had said. Was he fucking another man's wife this entire time?

You never felt so stupid in your life. Of course, that's what it was. No wonder he put a clause in your contract stating that sex was not to be part of the agreement. How fucking pathetic of him to act so faithful to another man's wife.

What if he was fucking her right now?

You stood up too quickly and lost your balance, but fortunately an arm shot out to steady you.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up over your sunglasses to find Brooks, one of Glenn's sons, standing there with his hand wrapped around your arm looking concerned.

Quickly, you shook your head and forced a smile. "Yeah, the sun got to me, I think," you told him, then after another moment you realized his grip around your bicep hadn't loosened. Your eyes slowly drifted down to his hand and you gave your arm a little tug. Finally, he released you and you gave him a polite chuckle before fixing your cover up so you would feel less exposed in your bikini under his gaze.

"My dad says we should be reaching the island soon," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his board shorts. They were neon blue and hung low on his hips. Almost too low, as if he were trying to draw your attention to it.

"Yeah, it sounds great. Should be fun," you mumbled, glancing around the deck, still not finding Joel or Tammy.

"Ever been here before?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. You shook your head.

"To Fiji? No," you answered.

"I'm surprised. It's a pretty common vacation spot for people in Joel's circle," Brooks said. If you were a little less distracted you might have picked up on the fact that he said Joel's circle and not your circle, but you didn't. You were too fixated on your anger and you were fueled by one too many drinks.

"Yeah - would you excuse me? I need to use the restroom," you said, gathering your things in your arms.

"Sure thing," he said, taking a step back so you could brush past him. "See you at dinner."

You gave him what you hoped was a polite wave before storming towards the glass doors that led into the yacht, but just when you were a few feet away, the door swung open and Tammy stepped out. It could have been your paranoia, but you thought she had a little smirk on her face when she passed by you and after that, all you saw was red.

You breezed through the sitting room. The only other people around were two servers who were quietly packing up dishware to take to the beach, then Joel suddenly appeared in the entryway that led back to your room wearing a different shirt than before and you clenched your teeth.

"Hey, was just comin' to get you," he said, not yet picking up on your anger. "You should get ready for dinner, we'll be there soon."

You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms, uncaring that you could be overheard when you spat, "whatever you say, daddy," your tone clipped and dripping with disdain.

The muscles in his jaw twitched and his nostrils flared when he finally sensed your energy. He looked up, catching the eye of one of the crew members, who quickly averted his gaze and pretended not to have overheard what you said, then grabbed your arm.

You had the presence of mind not to fight him and cause a scene, but once he hauled you halfway down the hallway towards some privacy, you wrenched your arm out of his hold.

"The hell's the matter with you?" he seethed. "Are you fuckin' drunk?"

You rolled your shoulder, trying to fix your coverup that slipped down your arm while staring daggers at him.

"What's the matter with me?" you repeated, "what about you? What are you doing? Do you really think nobody sees what's going on?"

He furrowed his brow in confusion and made a face. "What are you talkin' 'bout?"

You took a menacing step forward and lowered your voice. "I'm talking about Tammy, Joel."

His eyes flashed with something you couldn't identify and you hardly had a chance to react before he grabbed your arm again and practically dragged you the rest of the way down the hall towards your room. Once you were safely inside, he slammed the door behind him and stalked over to you, making you stumble backwards in surprise.

"What the hell do you know 'bout that?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to push down the wave of envy that bubbled up. "So it is true."

"Answer my fuckin' question," he growled, his eyes steely and his breath coming in quick. You shrugged and tried your best not to look nervous while being the target of his wrath.

"That you're having an affair," you said simply.

He stared down at you for what felt like hours before he exhaled and stepped back. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head before murmuring, "who told you?"

"Zoe," you sneered, taking one step backwards so you could rest your head against the wall. "Guess that means Zach knows, too."

"Fuck," he grumbled, then dragged his palms down his face in agony. "Fuck!" he said again, but shouted it that time and pounded his fist on top of a dresser.

You watched him nervously as he paced around the room, his anger beginning to sober you up a bit.

"You should have told me," you snapped. He swiveled around to look at you, his jaw so tight he could have cracked a tooth. "You could have ruined this entire thing but you're lucky I was quick on my feet and covered for you."

"You only need to know what I say you need to know," he said darkly, sending a shiver down your spine. "You were hired to do a job, so fuckin' do it."

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw the look in his eye.

"I'm trying, but you-"

"No," he said, cutting you off and closing the distance between you. "You were hired to look pretty and act like you're in love with me. That's fuckin' it. Everythin' else is none of your goddamn business."

You were just digging your own grave at that point so you figured there was no harm in tossing one more barb his way.

"Suppose it would have been too much to ask for you to at least tell me why you left sex out of our arrangement, but at least I know now it's not me. It's 'cause you're getting it somewhere else."

He inhaled sharply, his scowl cutting you in half.

"That's what this is 'bout?" he asked, stepping even closer. "You got your feelin's hurt yesterday?" His tone implied insincere pity and it sent a jolt of embarrassment through you but you remained quiet and held his gaze. He somehow had managed to cage you in against the wall, his arms bracing around your head as he leaned in closer. You could now smell a hint of toothpaste on his breath from when he came in earlier, without you, and you couldn't stop your next words from tumbling out.

"Did you bring her back here and fuck her in the bed I'm going to sleep in tonight?"

He smirked. He fucking smirked and you never in your life wanted to slap someone more.

"Jealous, baby?" he cooed. You shook your head but he just continued to give you that smug look. "Oh, I think you are. And you know what else?" He was taunting you now and you should have pushed him away but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. He leaned in so his lips brushed against your ear when he whispered, "I think you would let me fuck you right now, if I wanted to."

Tears sprung up in your eyes unexpectedly so you quickly slid them shut. You refused to let him have the satisfaction of your humiliation.

Finally, he pushed himself off the wall and gave you space so you could breathe. With your eyes still closed, he spoke again from the other side of the room.

"I was gone ten minutes. Gimme some credit. I ain't fuckin' anyone in ten minutes."

You heard him yank open the closet and you managed to crack open your eyelids with a pathetic sniffle, watching as he tossed a black dress onto the bed.

"Get ready. We'll be leavin' for the island soon." Then disappeared through the door.

It only took about five minutes before Joel calmed down when the guilt crept in again. Once more he handled another situation with you as poorly as possible and to top it off, he was fairly certain he brought you to tears when he left.

He was so fucking stupid. He should have just told you the truth. He should have told you he hadn't slept with Tammy in over a year and what they had was over, but he just had to keep pushing and pushing. How did he keep making mistake after mistake? You weren't wrong. He should have given you a heads up about Tammy, but he never thought anyone else knew. And instead of admitting it, he lashed out, taking his anger out on you when it wasn't even your fault to begin with. It was his, for being careless and stupid enough for others to find out.

When you emerged from your shared room looking refreshed and fucking stunning in the dress he had rudely thrown onto the bed, he almost apologized. He wanted to, but one look at you told him you were not at all ready to hear it, so he swallowed his words and gave you some space. Well, as much space as he could allow when you were surrounded by ten other people on a deserted beach at sunset eating dinner.

He resisted the urge to drape his arm around the back of your chair or brush his fingers against yours where they rested on the table. Please forgive me, I'm sorry, he kept thinking every time he glanced your way, but you avoided all eye contact and focused on the conversation around you.

During dinner, he noticed you had not one but two more drinks and hardly touched a thing on your plate. He wanted to say something, he wanted to encourage you to at least eat a little more, but he couldn't risk setting you off again, especially in front of everyone. So he bit his tongue and smiled politely when he needed to but mentally he was scrambling to come up with a way to make things up to you.

You stretched your neck with a sigh at one point, drawing his attention, his eyes lingering on the way your fingers trailed down your throat, then watched when you pressed two fingertips into a sore spot on the base of your neck.

How could you ever think he wouldn't want you? Of course, he wanted you. Anyone in their right mind would want you. The second he laid eyes on you it was all he could think about. How could you not see that?

Fortunately, the entire group seemed to be tired so nobody really noticed or cared that you and Joel were not very talkative. On the boat ride back, he instinctively reached for your hand when the boat swayed a little in the choppy waters, but you quickly pulled your arm out of reach and turned away.

It was past ten and the waves were rockier than earlier. He wanted to thank you again for reminding him to take his motion sickness pill but he refrained. Fuck, what he wouldn't give to go back to that part of the day and do everything over.

When the boat reached the yacht, you practically leapt off and jogged back inside, his heart sinking in his chest at your retreating form. He offered his good nights and slowly followed you with his head hung low and his hands shoved in his pockets, but when he finally reached your room he realized the real reason you had been in such a hurry.

The moment he opened the door he could hear you retching in the bathroom and his eyes widened. He closed the door behind him quickly and he rushed to the bathroom, pausing on the other side of the door, unsure what to do or say.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked.

"Does it sound like I'm alright?" you shot back before gagging once again. He winced.

"I'll get you some ginger ale and crackers," he said, spinning around the room until he found a mini refrigerator stocked with a few necessities. As expected, some seasick items were supplied, and he picked out a few things he thought might help. Setting them down on your end table, he turned around and scratched his chin.

While he waited for you to emerge, he got himself changed into more comfortable clothes and then went in search of your own pajamas to lay out for you when you were ready. In one of the drawers he found a few motion sickness bags and he left one out for you when an idea struck. Quickly, he rummaged through his pants from earlier and triumphantly pulled out a little plastic bottle of pills.

When was the last time he ever tried this hard for a woman?

Just as he was about to call out to you again, you swung open the door. Your face looked pale and your eyes were red but you remained defiant and refused to glance his way. You spotted the clothes he laid out for you, and then the items on your bedside, and he thought he saw a flicker of affection in your eyes before you blinked and it was gone.

"Here," he said, holding out the bottle for you. "Take one of these, it'll help."

You stared at it for a few moments as you weighed your options, then begrudgingly snatched it from his hand and tapped one out into your palm. Tossing the bottle onto his side of the bed, you swallowed the pill with the water he set out for you and picked up your pajamas before retreating back into the bathroom for some privacy.

By the time you had changed, Joel had already switched the television on low to some bright sitcom he thought you might like and had turned down the bed. He sat on his side of the mattress, shamefully staring down at his fingers laced together in his lap, then glanced up when he heard the door open and the light turn off.

"Thank you," you murmured before sliding into bed and pulling the covers up to your chin.

"You're welcome," he said softly. He watched you silently for a few minutes while the corners of your mouth twitched occasionally at something that was said on the television, then he cleared his throat, warning you he was about to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said, brows pinching together. You looked up at him in surprise but said nothing, so he continued. "I shoulda told you 'bout Tammy. You were right. And I shouldn't've said... that other stuff," he added weakly, looking down at his hands again. "I ain't any good at this," he continued, pursing his lips in thought. "I push people away, I say all the wrong shit, always have, and now I'm doin' it to you. And it's... it ain't right."

You scanned his face, your resolve crumbling when you saw the sincerity behind his eyes.

"It's okay," you finally said, your voice sounding so small from underneath the plush comforter.

He shook his head. "No, it ain't."

"No, but I forgive you, anyway."

He finally dragged his eyes up to meet yours and smiled. "Thank you, darlin'."

You sighed and readjusted a bit under the covers. "I'm sorry, too."

"Nothin' for you to be sorry for."

"I got too drunk and embarrassed you. It won't happen again."

He scoffed and gave you a look of disbelief. "Half the people on this boat got just as drunk as you. These people are borderline alcoholics," he said, making you giggle a little. He grinned, his heart soaring when he heard the sound. "None of 'em probably even remember we went to dinner."

You laughed a little louder at that and he joined in with a chuckle under his breath. He could feel his muscles relaxing, his nerves settling. He may have just salvaged things yet.

Joel leaned back and tucked his legs under the covers, watching the sitcom but not really absorbing anything. In the past, when he let his mind wander, it was not exactly the way he pictured being in bed with you, but it was still nice.

"Things are over with me 'n her, by the way," he said after a long, comfortable silence. Your body stiffened and you tipped your head in his direction.

"Why didn't you just tell me that to begin with?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Maybe I liked it when you got jealous."

Your cheeks flared with heat and you pulled the bedding up tighter around you.

"Asshole," you muttered. He laughed, making you smile.

"I deserved that."

He could tell when you began to drift off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw your head tilt towards your shoulder and your perfect lips part ever so slightly. You began to snore so softly, it almost seemed fake. No one looked and sounded that beautiful when they slept. Especially after being sick. But of course, you did. He should have known.

Joel reached over and flicked the lights off, washing the room in the television's glow, then slid deeper underneath the covers. Quietly, he turned the TV off and waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness before rolling his head to the side to look at you.

What the hell were you doing to him?

It had only been a week and he could already feel himself falling, already doing things out of character and feeling more at ease in general.

So what was one more thing?

Carefully, so as not to wake you, he inched forward and wrapped one arm around your middle, pausing to see if you would stir. When your breath remained steady and even, he got a little closer and pulled.

You took a deep breath and sighed, then rolled onto your side. He closed the remaining space between you and tucked you against his chest while snaking one arm under your pillow, the other still around your waist.

The last thing he remembered thinking was how your hair smelled like coconut and vanilla, a comforting scent he wanted to wrap himself in that was so soft and addicting, it put him right to sleep.

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[thelostconsultant]

Lazy Sunday

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: It's the last Sunday of the summer break and Charles doesn't want to do anything. Well, maybe there's one thing.

warning: sexual themes, but not smut. either way, mdni.

note: I wanted to write a short something with him.

About eight months into your relationship with Charles, you began to become a bit paranoid.

Things were a little too good, as if you had been stuck in the honeymoon phase. There were no real fights, just playful bickering when you couldn’t come to an agreement about trivial things like what movie to watch. And he was still doing his best to impress you, although you kept telling him there was no need to bring you flowers or gifts anymore. You loved him, you knew he loved you just as much, you didn’t need more than that.

But naturally, sometimes you began to wonder when you would crash and burn, because you knew this state couldn’t last forever. He would get bored of you, or maybe you would be the one to feel like his presence was a little too much for you; there were a lot of possible outcomes for this. Sure, you hoped it would never happen, but you could never know.

On your last lazy Sunday morning before the first race after the summer break, you were lying in bed next to each other, legs tangled, and your head tucked comfortably under his chin. He had promised to make this a cheat day when he skipped the gym, and he would eat whatever his heart desired, and if you couldn’t come up with anything better to do, you wouldn’t even step out of the apartment.

Knowing him, you wouldn’t even leave his bed, but at one point you knew you both would get hungry, so you began to place soft kisses on his collarbone until you heard him let out a questioning hum, even though he was still half asleep. “What would you like to eat for lunch?” you asked quietly.

He pulled you a little closer and placed a kiss on the crown of your head. “I don’t care, we should just order something real quick, then come back here,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, right, but I feel like cooking,” you told him with a laugh. “So?”

With a heavy sigh, he placed his hand on your cheek, thick fingers moving until they tangled into your hair as he rolled back a little to look you in the eye. “No cooking, that’s the definition of doing something. Let’s just order pizza,” Charles told you with a boyish smile.

His eyes were mesmerizing, having the ability to knock every single thought out of your head, but you knew better than to fall for this trap. “Baby, we can’t lie in bed the whole day.”

He cocked an eyebrow at this, giving you a challenging look. “Watch me.”

With a short laugh you moved forward to kiss him, but he quickly took control and rolled you on your back, settling nice and comfy between your legs. His kisses were slow and gentle, making you believe that was all he wanted, but then it became a lot more passionate, and it soon became obvious that he had a lot more in mind. As much as you enjoyed that, how nice it was to feel how excited he was to have you pinned under him, you couldn’t help but put a hand on his shoulder to push him away a little. 

“If cooking isn’t allowed, then sex is also on the list of don’ts,” you informed him, earning a confused look from him. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, not when you could see those kind eyes that had a lustful glint in them right now, but deep down you knew it had to be done. It was only fair. “Sex is also doing stuff.”

“Sex is not doing stuff,” he corrected you with a huff.

With a wide grin appearing on your face, you lifted your head a little to kiss the tip of his nose. “I’m stuff,” you introduced yourself with a laugh. 

“I don’t care. The rule is stupid,” Charles replied before diving in to kiss you again, this time letting one of his hands explore the shape of your body. 

“It’s your rule.”

“I don’t care,” he repeated his previous statement as he dipped a finger between your wet folds. “And you clearly want me.”

And he was right, damn it. The moment you felt his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spongy spot, your brain went blank. Sex had always been great, but today it was easy to tell he was perfectly relaxed, and his mind was entirely here with you, there weren’t residual thoughts about bad races or conflicts, and he was hyper focused on you and your needs, easily drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you. Eventually you lost track of time, you had absolutely no idea how much time you spent falling apart under his expert hands just so he could put you back together again before the cycle restarted. 

Then you slept some more, completely forgetting about the idea of eating, your bodies tangled in a way that it was hard to tell where you ended and where he began. He was like an octopus, his limbs holding you close to him, making it impossible to escape. But it was safe, it was nice, it made you feel completely at home. You could get used to spending your weekends like this instead of traveling around because of his races. Just the two of you, locked into his apartment to do whatever you wanted. 

If that something was sleeping and sex alone, it wouldn’t matter as long as you were together.

[suksatoru]

Pieces of Us.

synopsis; in the midst of all the chaos and confusion in his life - tomura shigaraki manages to fall in love.

shigarakixreader. college student reader. no quriks au!

Tomura Shigaraki has never been attracted to someone before. Simply put, he's never found anyone interesting. He didn't have any personal prior relationships with a single person - and he truly believed there wasn't anyone out there worth his time.

He's been kicking the same small rock on the sidewalk for a while now - its sharp edges dug into the bottom of his boot with every kick, and he watched it skitter a few feet ahead before coming to a stop in front of him every time.

The bell above him rings, and he enters the familiar cafe with a huff. He pulls down the thin winter hat atop his head and grits his teeth is discomfort. The snow outside was agonizingly cold - a terrible combination with his dry skin, which was only become even more irritated by the falling snow.

He waits in line quietly, there are kids in line in front of him talking to the person at the register happily, giggling at something they say. Tomura tries to drown out the conversation around him in hopes to find some peace in his own mind.

This specific cafe served their hot chocolate all year round - a simple drink he considered perfection. It was creamy and had just the right amount of whipped cream, a warm treat that soothed his skin during these unbearably cold winter times.

How weird was it? Hot chocolate of all things was the one to make him feel comfortable in his own skin.

It's been made by the same, gruff old man for as long as he'd known. The man knew how to make it perfectly. Tomura never spoke to the old man - but he had designated him to be his hot chocolate maker.

He's about to be next - but he hears an awfully cheerful voice, softly saying Have a good Christmas!, and he finally lifts his head to look at who would be serving him his hot chocolate tonight.

You were pretty - oddly enough, that was the first thought that crossed Tomura's mind. He shakes off the notion before the realization sets in - a new employee. God, you wouldn't know how to make the stupid drink, would you?

"Hello! What can I get started for you today, sir?" You ask sweetly, sending him a welcoming smile as Tomura merely blinks back

Shit. Now what?

Your smile transforms into a confused one as you tilt your head curiously, trying to catch a better look of the man under the dark hat

"Ah - we have a sale going on for Christmas! Two cinnamon sweet rolls for - "

"I'll just have the hot chocolate."

The bite in his rough voice is undeniable, but your smile doesn't waver the slightest bit. Instead, you click a few buttons on the register in front of you before pulling out a pen from your dark green apron - you looked nice in it.

"And what size would you like that in?" You ask, scribbling his order down as he croaks medium, something burning in his cheeks as he says the word

"Ok. Have a seat, and I'll bring your drink right out." You say gently, gesturing to the empty tables towards the right before turning on your heel to begin his order

He doesn't say anything. He makes a beeline to one of the tables, opting for one in the back of the cafe as he tugs his hat even further down - blaming how hot he felt on the cafe - warm fires must be set in the kitchen somewhere for cooking stuff, is that why his hands felt clammy despite the freezing snow outside?

He waits quietly, staring at the floor as he wonders when you'll come back. Should he say thank you when you hand him the drink? He's never thanked his servers before - but... it seemed like he needed to right now. Yes, he was going to thank you for the drink. Maybe even try to make small talk.

Too lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice you walking towards him with his drink in hand - he looks up at the sound of footsteps, the fairy lights hanging on the cafe walls illuminated your figure - you looked awfully like an angel in that light.

"Here you go! Please let me know if you need anything else, ok?" You say, hands clasped in front of you as you peer down at him with a smile

He stares back with parted lips

You wait for a response - his lips move as if he wants to say something - but, well, nothing comes out -

"Uh - um - t-thanks. Bet it tastes shitty though."

Tomura's own eyes widen at the words that leave his mouth, absolutely mortified.

I didn't mean it - sorry sorry sorry sorry

But he clamps his mouth shut - not trusting himself to say another word as he looks away in utter embarrassment - contemplating whether or not he should simply make a run for it

You blink once in surprise, twice - and then, you laugh.

It's such an odd sensation - the feeling in his chest. And it all started with your stupid laugh.

He's trying to stay calm, tries to make a clear decision but he can't. Not when every single possible alarm in his mind had been set off and was screaming at him to get away - to turn the whole place to dust and never come back - but he stays seated, watching you at a loss for words as your laughter finally calms - you rub the tears of laughter lining your lash line as you send him a grin

"You won't believe this, but this morning I messed up a hot chocolate order so badly. One of my coworkers left out a sauce bottle from a breakfast sandwich they were making, and I totally thought it was the sweet type of syrup - you know, the one you pour over a milkshake?"

You're sitting across him after a few minutes - still talking.

How long did he sit there for? Maybe an hour. There were no other employees there since it was the end of the night, only you and him. Simply put, he was absolutely terrified of you.

You, who sat down in front of him and began a conversation so friendly that he seems to forget how to speak when you ask him what he's doing all alone on Christmas.

"I could say the same for you." He mumbles, finally taking a sip of the drink in front of him as his eyes widen at the taste - it was good. You did good.

Your confusion is palpable with the way your delicate brows pull together at his reaction before you let out a quiet gasp

"Did I put the hot sauce in it by accident? Oh - I'm so sorry-"

"What? - no, no that's not it. It's, uh, pretty good. So you should take a deep breath." He mumbles, unsure of what else to say as his entire body stiffens when his leg gently bumps against yours under the small table

You don't even notice, sending him an embarrassed smile as you press your hand against your cheek with a light laugh

"Sorry! I really like this job - and I don't want to mess it up, you see."

Tomura finds himself conflicted - never in his life has he met someone like you. So outspoken - so nice. It feels terribly wrong - someone innocent like you shouldn't be talking to someone as tainted as him. But...

"You didn't answer my question."

You lift your hand off your cheek, sending him a confused glance as he grunts, taking a quick glance at your name tag - which just had to be rested so perfectly above your breats. Great.

"I asked what you were doing alone on Christmas, y/n." He repeats as he watches you carefully. He was curious - and he quickly found out it wasn't hard to talk to you like he'd expected it to be. He didn't feel so nervous anymore.

"Oh! Well, college is pretty expensive for me, so I take extra shifts. And I don't have anyone helping me pay for it so..." You say sheepishly, and Tomura quickly realizes he probably shouldn't have asked anything at all - he winces at the small frown on your lips as you look towards the ground - finally tearing your gaze away from him

"What about you?" You quip, and Tomura shurgs

"I have no one to spend it with." He states - plain and simply. He immediately regrets saying those words the second they leave his lips - because the look on your face is so wounded that he can't help but quickly shake his head

"But I like it that way so - "

"No one should be alone on Christmas!" You cry out, slumping in your chair with a frown as you tap your chin in thought

"But I said I like it - and so are you - ! "

"Idea!" You say, snapping your fingers with a grin so wide that Tomura barely blinks before you're out of your chair - running back through the employee doors as you yell a cheerful be right back! over your shoulder

You come back after a minute without your apron - instead, you're clad in a winter coat, gloves, and fuzzy hat atop your head. Tomura feels that same unusual sensation deep within him - like a match being lit - merely the beginning to a raging fire.

"Come, come!" You urge, tugging him out of his chair as you pull him outside the cafe

He tosses the empty cup in the trash - and his heart beat quickens as he feels an unfamilair thrill run through his body. He likes this feeling. That was what he decided on as you locked up the shop, tucking the metal keys into the pocket of your coat before turning to Tomura with that smile

"Come on! We have ten minutes to get there in time!" You say - the cold air in front of you clouding as Tomura tries not to make his surprise visible when you grab his gloved hand in yours and tug him down the snowy street - clear destination in mind as you take direct twists and turns towards the center of town

"Where are we going?" He says, shivering as the snow around him falls freely. It didn't feel as cold as it did before - it couldn't. Not when his whole body was burning beside yours, because you just had to go and hold his hand so tightly - like he needed the extra support from you to walk right.

"It's a surprise." You say, and Tomura felt the foreign feeling of his lips twitching as he fought a small smile

He didn't know where you were leading him - but deep down, he was excited. What could it be?

He gets his answer when he cranes his head up to look at the tall tree in front of him - it was hard to see it in the dark, but it was easily the largest Christmas tree he'd ever seen.

"Midnight is when it lights up - any second now." You whisper, smiling as you look around at the dark trees surrounding the two of you in an enclosed circle. They were all going to light up - you came here to watch the beautiful show for free of charge almost every night. It truly was a spectacular sight.

"This will light up?" He asks, genuine fascination in his raspy voice as you pipe up at his show of interest

"Yeah! Just watch, I promise it'll be worth it." You say, turning to the tree in front of you while excitedly tapping your foot against the ground - he wants to laugh at your funny little antic - but he can't, because your eyes are practically twinkling as you hear the gentle drum of the lights powering on

He turns just in time to catch the sight - he's blinded for a moment when they turn on, but he's blinking them back open at the sound of your cheerful laughter - finding himself surrounded by lights.

The colors swirled in front of his eyes - vivid hues that shone down on the two of you with their bright colors

He's quiet, eyes wide as he takes in the trees - their once towering forms seemed to embrace the two of you in their warm glow - he felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight. He'd never seen something so grand -

"Do you like it?"

You're cupping your hands and catching the falling snow - throwing it up with a playful laugh as Tomura slowly nods his head

"Yeah... this is nice."

"Just nice?" You tease, smiling as he turns his head away. His cheeks were pink - he hoped you would beleive it was because of the cold weather. But he knew better - he blamed you for them

"It's great. Really. T-thank you." He says, his voice barely above a whisper - but you caught it, nonetheless.

~

He didn't know when he walked out of his dark hide out - it wasn't too late, but he usually wasn't out at this time anyways. He just wanted to check town square - just a quick peek, no harm in that, right?

Right?

He finds you there that night, patiently sitting in front of the tree with your eyes closed. You were waiting for the clock to strike midnight so you can be once again amazed by the light show.

He's standing a few meters away, watching as you tilt your head towards the falling snow with a blissful smile on your face.

He doesn't understand the new found courage he feels, ignoring the warnings telling him to go back to the hide out and go to sleep - his feet seem to have a mind of their own as they follow the direction of his thumping heart. He sits beside you quietly, watching your eyes peek open and gleam with recognition

"Suppose it was nice enough to come see again." He says, his voice was slightly muffled by the thicker scarf he wore today - but still, you heard it.

"I never did get your name."

Tomura Shigaraki. All time criminal who never showed his face to the public. Known for his destructive nature - someone who deserved no kindness. No love. Yet you offered it anyway.

"My name is Tenko."

You hum, licking your snow coated lips as you repeat his name once. Twice.

He realizes he loves his name best when you say it.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

"Get your dirty hands off me! LET GO OF ME!"

"Listen Brother! We must act with respect! We have a lady in our hands!"

The two yaoguais kept on laughing while they were dragging you somewhere, far away from your friend and protector.

Everything happened so fast that you couldn't register the events: the Destined One, and you had to head to the location of the second relic, which you knew was in this desert. It seems easy at first; you thought that you just needed to be as careful as the last time, but something went wrong!

How could you not notice those scouts?! Maybe they were more used to the state of the place; maybe the dust covered the smell for your friend; what you know Is that in a couple of minutes your monkey was now on the ground, his chest puerced with arrows, agonizing yes, but still alive? You tried to help him; take the gourd that you carried with you with your healing wine, but before that, those rats had already captured you. You kept on struggling and fighting as much as you could, but instead they have other plans for you.

"Our second prince will love this snack! I heard that this one is a really good catch."

"Ah! Please! Maybe he'll give us a bite!"

They were planning to give you fkr lunch to their prince. 

If it was them or him, you didn't care; what you did care was to survive and help your monkey out of that mess.

You were so focused on trying to break free from care where they were dragging you, but you started to think that it must have been an indoor when the scorching sun wasn't burning your head anymore.

It looked like a cave, maybe a temple inside the mountain based on the carvings on the walls. Columns made of pure stone, stalagmites, and stalactites decorated with sacred figures and prayers, commemorative candles near statues of Buddha and his disciples.

The ones that built the city must have used the caves in order to obtain more spaces, maybe?

You didn't get enough chance to ask since the two rats didn't show any kindness when they literally threw you on the ground.

"Shouldn't we... I don't know...cook her or something?"

"Ah! The prince and the king live their food fresh and squirmy! Now let's go; he doesn't like being seen while he eats."

And while you were Just pick up yourself from the ground, you Heard their soft and fast footsteps, leaving you in this new side of the cave. There were objects, quite a lot even, all of them around, like some small mountains of trinckets and stuff.

Furniture was around, but those were so damaged and old that you questioned if someone could even use it like that. On the walls of the cave, someone had put some decoration—canvases that had almost lost all of their colors, rusted weapons that were long lost—lost the care that they used to, for the exception of a scary giant Chui that was resting on the ground, ready to be picked.

Whoever was able to hold it must have been a quite herculean creature.

There was such a short source of light, coming from one hole in the ceiling of the wall and...from the way they took you in! There was no door, no bars, nothing! 

You didn't want to waste anymore time, and so you sprinted in the same direction that the two rats had left you, until a rumble on your feet almost tripped you for the second time.

There was another, then another one. 

Footstep, something big was walking towards you.

Two giant feet, covered in fur and some claws that you swear could rip apart your flesh, incased you. The armor was old and marred but still held some remembrance of his rank and position in his kingdom.

A large and long tail and a pointy mout... it was a rat, but it was grotesquely big. His yellow eyes scrutinized you, while his nose was sniffing the air in your direction.

Without thinking twice, you bolted so fast to escape from that thing, but you didn't get enough time since he was fast enough to grab you from your ankle and raise you up like an old ragged doll. You tried to kick it, scratch it, and try to punch it, but he didn't budge a little; it was like a mosquito bite for him.

"LET ME GO! STOP!"

Despite your plea, he just stood there, looking at you and sniffing more closely. A few of your hair sucked in his nostrils, and so I kept it up for a few more seconds. You couldn't see it, but it seemed... curious. He decided to change your position, holding you by your waist, trying to see you better from another angle.

You were beyond terrorized; from near, he was even worse! AND THAT SMELL! You shivered in his grasp, too afraid to move another punch or kick while he studied you. He finally stopped moving when your face hit a direct ray of sunlight from the hole in the ceiling. You gasped, tried to cover yourself, and then...the ground. 

He didn't tossed you at all; he just putted you down. It was incredible to notice that you didn't even feel any pain in your abdomen from where he had grasped you. At that point, he just started to emit something that reminded you of some kind of giggle, a few snorts, and he looked...excited? He trotted to one of the small trinkets stacked near the bed that you assumed was his own. starting to move things around.

He was distracted. That was your chance! You slowly start to pick it up from where you left it to get out from there, when you felt again his enormous hand on your back, grasping the back of your shirt from behind, rising you up again like a kitten.

"Stop it! I don't-"

And then, again, you were seated...in front of what once was maybe a nice tea set. His throat was emitting a strange sound while he started a small fire and put a big iron pot of water on it. He was...humming...while making tea? And there were two pairs of small cups, old and dusty, and one was for you?

You didn't muttered a word, preferring to stare at that strange creature that was now putting some dried herbs; you wondered if it was even tea in the pot, still very small for something of his size.

"Wha...what are...you doing?"

"Making tea...for the guest!"

Okay, now it was a really good moment to freak out; he thought you were a guest?! HIS GUEST?! 

"I thought you were supposed to..."

You held your tongue, reminding him about the fact that you were lunch for him; it may be quite a problem. You tried another time to move away, but suddlenly got back in place when some kind of conckut was versed in your cup. A few big drops spilled; he wasn't so versatile in this.

And then he looked at you. No, staring. He was there, staring at you, waiting for a response, and you looked at the staff in your cup. Imagine the food infection that it would cause. You kept on staring at it, trying to come up with every possible excuse to avoid the ingestion of the brooth, but three meters Yaogauis don't leave room for so many options. You gulped the content of the cup, trying to hold the near vomit coniate.

",..Gee...thanks...that was...so nice! .....Thanks..."

Oh was... please, like a lot. He started to clap, happy, drinking directly from the pot.

After that, he started again to act strangely. But this time it wasn't about taking care of the guest, but just...pile up staff...on you.

He made sure that you were comfortable, as much as you were, but his actions reminded you of a child that is showing you staff. At some point he even tried to put a necklace around your neck, but your sudden shriek made him desist, only for him to put the garmet in your hand. It was an old and broken jade pearl necklace; maybe there was a pendant in the middle since the space, but it was long gone. The small gems were broken or ruined, but it seemed to be once a really nice piece of jewelry.

At some point, your fear just became boredom and hassle, especially when he kept on showing you staff. At some point, what really caught your eye was a rectangular piece of wood that had previously fallen from one of the piles next to you. Covered in dust and mud, it must have seen better time, but, on the front, something was still visible: it was a piece of paper plastered with something on the wood, and, on it, three figures standing, one sitting in the center of it. The three standing figures seemed young, each of them with something to distinguish them from each other, the one sitting on a small chair wearing instead some regal robes.

"Ah, a painting...why did you keep it with you? Do you like drawing?"

The rat suddenly stopped, pointing his finger towards you and the draw.

"Me! Me and brothers! And my papa too! You found it, so good."

He seemed delighted, clapping his hands and making again those strange sounds. You, instead, cannot stop looking at the drawing confused. Him? Wait...one of them had a Chui next to him, and some traits, by using a lot of imagination, made him similar to your gaoler.

"Wait...this is you? You are him?!"

You pointed the figure, and he just...nodded, vigurusly.

"But," you continued, "how?! How it happened?! You were a man! How did you become a... Yaoguai?"

You said, avoiding using the word rat, opting to not make remarks on his looks further. 

"Master!" He just chirped "Master! He did it! Everyone rats now! Little brother left, searching for help for turning in rats...still missing...older brother...not so good...he acts violent...daddy like master! So I follow too! ....But not like, like, daddy."

"Master?...what master?"

"Sage! Wind sage!"

"Hold on, the...the yellow wind sage did this to you?" He kept on nodding; this time it was slower than before; maybe it was something that he wasn't proud of?

"Did it hurt you? I mean,. you didn't have a tail before. It was painful. I'm...sorry..." Your tone was softer this time, wondering how much pain that poor creature must have endured all this time. He seemed to be remembering his old life as a man; maybe, by having you in, he tried to recreate some old habits of him? Did you remind him of someone that he had lost? He didn't even try to eat you at all; he was just being nice.

He kept on looking at you, sensing the change in the room after this knowledge, and he just...poke you. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Was he trying to cheer you up?

"Even rat, help Daddy! Master will be back, Daddy happy, and finally Daddy will notice my work! Me protect people from tigers! Not many thanks, but still do!"

And now you felt worse! How could someone say so casually that their father doesn't give them enough credits?! He was just a big guy. Yaogaus truly were strange, from some friendly horses to a rat prince.

"I'm sorry to know that you have to endure all of this... But, you know, me and my friend, we're searching for AH!"

Trying to understand this creature, trying to get a chance to flee, and trying to not faint for fear made you forget the first reason why you were there in the first place. You rose from your spot, causing him to back away in surprise.

"The relic! The wind sage...MONKEY!"

You put down the cup; how could you stay here taking tea while your friend was somewhere pierced by who knows how many arrows?! You started to move away from there, trying not to fall from the various junk that he had put around you.

"I'm sorry! I need to leave! My friend needs me; I need to help him! I AGH!"

When he grabbed you, this time he was more scared and aprehensive, trying to stop you from your exit.

"No! You must stay! Other kill and eat, I protect and care! You too, nice! You stay!"

The fight that you left before restarted again, this time with much more vigor from you. You won't have let your friend die in that dump place!

"Put me down! I don't want to stay here with you! LET ME GO!"

His attempt to keep you in place resulted in both his giant hands holding you and trying to keep your kicking feet away from his face. He was starting to panic. Why did you have to leave?!

The struggle continued, and both of you did not notice a figure approaching fastly in your direction until you just heard a huge STOMP. The rat started to move around like a drunk man, then collapsed in a huge cloud of dust and sand. This time, you didn't have to taste the ground since two strong arms were ready to capture your fall.

"You look like you were in need of assistance, my Bián huá!"

"...Monkey!"

His furry face welcomed you once you opened your eyes from the fall with a smile and, instinctively, you launched your arms around his neck for an hug. But you remembered his wounds at the last moment.

"AH! I'm sorry! Your wounds!"

"I'm fine! See? Not a scratch!"

He showed you his chest, untouched and without trace of any wounds or arrows.

"But I saw it... Did the healing wine help you?"

"Not exactely. I've found a helping hand that...

Will let you lose your head!"

"...it's strangely specific."

He just laughed it off but regained his seriousness once he heard some moan of pain from the rat Yaogaui in front of him. He let you down, then took back his staff. 

"Wait!" He looked at you surprised. "Let's just leave him. You gave him a concussion already. I don't think he'll be a problem soon."

"All right, I don't know what happened here, but you look like you had a blast. Let's move now; more rats will come after the commotion!"

You nodded, but you still looked back at the prince with the same sorry expression from before.

"I'm sorry. It's an urgent matter. I promise to apologize better when we'll take the relic. Thank you!"

And so you and the Destined One left hand in hand the cave, noticing in a rush moment the look of pain in the prince's eyes. You wondered if the pain was for his head or something else.

@sleepingdramaqueen

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[feefivefoe]

I guess I'm unintentionally working my way up the age ladder, so Jason next-

This is the first part that contains backstory stuff I gave my reader, so unfortunately this is where a lot of the "they can be anyone" immersion dies, sorry y'all.

Genuinely, he thought he might hate you at first. Even at the preteen age of 12, where children were usually trying to start striving to independence, you had been so...bland.

It's not that you didn't stand out. Quite the contrary. Anywhere Alfred could be found, you were just a step or two behind him. A leech. Only ever speaking in a hushed voice, making the old man strain himself to hear you, surely.

He doesn't think you've ever even looked him in the eye.

It isn't until that summer he starts connecting the dots. You still cling to long sleeved shirts, pants over shorts, even when it's clear you're struggling to not overheat.

Then he catches you in the kitchen in the middle of the night, t-shirt and pajama shorts.

Burn marks, healed yet gruesome, decorate your arms and legs. Based on how they're positioned, he'd argue they probably exist on the rest of your body, too.

And yet, despite his invasion of what you clearly(?) wanted kept hidden, you merely bow your head in shame and offer a meek apology.

That's when he stops seeing you as a problem, but as a victim of consequence.

Not a bratty child who doesn't care enough about the lower class to speak to your new 'sibling,' but a lonely child who had never even once considered he might want to speak to you.

"Mister Wayne and Mister Grayson are very busy." You had said once, matter of factly rather than bitter or sad. "I'm sure they'd spend time with me if they weren't. But they have two lives, so they have less time than anybody."

He doesn't have the heart to tell you that they make time for him. And the rest of Gotham.

As you do with Alfred, you begin to shadow him. Meandering behind him without a care as to what his plans are, happy to receive the barest of acknowledgments.

You hesitate when speaking about yourself, as though taking up his time with mentions of you is an issue. He's starting to understand why.

Jason isn't sure if it's pity or growing affection that keeps him around, at first. For a while, he sees you as more of a sad, wet dog than as his family.

But you begin to connect with peers at school, finding validation outside of those that feel forced to give it to you. You mature, grow up more than you should, and realize the reality of your home life.

And Jason is thrilled! ...and...a little sad? He's happy for you, sure. Having friends is probably what you needed. People who want you around, genuinely. Who choose to make time for you.

But he'd be lying if he said that the way you used to stare at him didn't make him feel like a hero. Like he was doing so much, changing your world, simply by existing.

You still speak, of course. You're friendly siblings that get along well. You give him various foods you've tried making, courtesy of Alfred inspiring a desire to learn to cook and bake on your own. You talk about books you've read together, and listen intently while he rambles about his favorites.

You even peek in after particularly rough patrol nights, just to make sure he's gotten through it okay.

But it isn't...quite the same. No, but it's...it's for the best.

And he is still a hero! As Robin, he's protecting the whole city alongside Batman!

So he's still a hero.

He's still your hero.

"Jay? I was wondering if I could ask you for some help. The show my club is doing is one of those old books you like-"

"They aren't that old."

"-and my character doesn't show up much in the movie-"

"You watched the MOVIE before reading the book!?"

"-so I wanted to ask if you'd help me with characterization!"

He remembers groaning at you and rolling his eyes. "I'm busy tonight. Go watch the dumb, BAD, movie again." He pauses. "Uh, but I can tomorrow. I'll make sure I don't have anything planned, promise."

He saw you pause, and sees the constant same promises pass through you.

"I...have other arrangements. I'll make it up to you next time."

"Ah...sorry, kiddo! Big kid stuff. But next time! You trust your big bro, yeah?"

But this is Jason. Jason doesn't lie to you.

Jason keeps his promises.

You smiled. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

...

Then he died.