#it's even got a dust jacket! it has a little jacket!

[pix-writes]

Look what my brother found whilst we were scavenging for Halloween movies at CEX!!!!!!!!

It's my beloveds! 💚🌕

I totally didn't see it and my brother did and handed it to me, I was so excited!!!! 😄💜

[sigh-tofm]

when the power goes out one cold and rainy november evening…

… price

- goes full dad. pulls the grill up to the back veranda door and cooks up some mean steaks for you two. gets a fire going in the fireplace to keep the house heated. has half a mind to call the power company and tell them that they don’t need to hurry, he’s got everything covered here. actually, they don’t need to come at all, not for a few days. tells you his thoughts as he pulls the mattress off your bed and deposits it in the living room in front of the fireplace, so you both can keep warm tonight. you let him know in no uncertain terms that he will do no such thing. you’ll let him have is fun tonight, but you will need a hot shower and a working oven in 36 hours, no matter how much he wants to play boyscout. but as you sit in front of the roaring fireplace and your admittedly very rugged and handsome husband feeds you bits of grilled steak and holds a glass of red wine to your lips, a thick, warm blanket covering you both, you must admit that this isn’t bad either.

… kyle

- excitedly improvises. you know, it’s like this every day when we’re in the field, he beams as he brushes the dust off the firepit in the woodshed. doesn’t mean it has to be like this now though, does it, kyle. you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and watch as he finds the least rotten firewood in the shed and uses up eight matches before he can get a light. you almost tell him to leave it and come inside, that you’ll order in tonight, but he’s so engulfed in fanning the little flame to life that you can’t help but play along. you get an umbrella when the rain comes down harder and use it to shield both your boyfriend and his firepit from the weather. when you gently ask how he’s going to cook up the pizza you two were in the middle of preparing when the power went out, he wilts a little, but somehow manages to macgyver a cooking system for it that only leaves it slightly burnt. you know, he says while you two are standing under the awning, admiring your fire baby and nibbling on damp, blackened pizza, in the field we sometimes need to share sleeping bags too.

… johnny

- immediately relents. moans and groans about being off duty and that he shouldn’t be expected to fend for himself like this when he isn’t in an active war zone. you pull up the local takeaway menu on your phone and hand it to him. go get us some warm food, soldier, you prompt him and gather up some supplies while he’s away. the old scottish farmhouse you live in has a fireplace, of course, so you light a fire there and with some effort pull the couch up in front of it. blankets and pillows from the living room, old fair isle knit jumpers from the hallway closet, a sheepskin rug to warm your feet on. when he comes back with his arms full of steaming indian (best to get some extra, mo chridhe), his mood seems to have lightened a little too. especially when he sees you in thigh high knit stockings, wearing his jumper and laying on the sheepskin rug. okay, maybe this isn’t so bad. at least he’s not being shot at.

… simon

- is prepared. goes down to the basement and carries up box after box of emergency equipment. hands you a round little paraffin stove (which you have no idea how to work) and a matching aluminium pan, as well as a large variety of ready-made freeze dried stews and soups. just add water, he says unhelpfully, and continues pulling out equipment from his kit. amongst the various bags of tools and gadgets you can spot tent poles and emergency flares, and it’s obvious he’s been itching to use all this stuff for a while. you decide to entertain him and google your way around the stove, finally getting a light on it. you light candles and pull out your winter coats while the water boils, making it an overall cozy time. hav’ta be prepared, he mutters as he comes to sit with you when the food’s ready, the living room full of his unpacked catastrophe preparations. next time we’ll just go to a hotel, you gently request and serve him year-old mushroom stew, brought back to life with some warm water. he looks longingly at all his equipment. you yield. or camping.

[kateschi]

surprise delivery: husband edition!

synopsis: when you're just chilling after a rough mission, your husband makes an appearance to make your day better.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the day is brutal. patrols, villain takedowns, and media interviews—being a pro-hero means long hours with little time to breathe.

as you finally step into your shared apartment, all you want is to crash on the couch and shut out the world for a while. the second you close the door behind you, your hero jacket hits the floor with a thud.

just as you start making your way to the kitchen, the front door swings open, and in walks bakugou katsuki, your husband, still in his full hero gear.

his mask is off, revealing that ever-present scowl, though you can tell by the slight sag in his shoulders that he’s had a long day too.

"hey," he grunts as he kicks the door shut behind him, his sharp gaze zeroing in on you. in his hand is a plastic bag, the familiar sound of crinkling bringing a small smile to your lips.

"katsuki," you greet, raising an eyebrow. "didn’t expect you back so early. thought you were still on patrol."

he throws the bag onto the kitchen counter with a huff. "got a break. figured I’d check in on you. heard your last fight was a pain in the ass."

you smile despite yourself. "it was fine. nothing I couldn’t handle."

he shoots you a look, his eyes narrowing. "yeah, yeah. you say that every damn time, but you look like you’ve been through hell."

"you’re one to talk," you shoot back, gesturing toward his own disheveled appearance.

his hero suit is scuffed, his gauntlets still covered in dust from whatever explosion-filled chaos he’s left behind. "looks like you weren’t exactly on a peaceful walk yourself."

"I handled it just fine," he says, waving off your concern. "anyway, shut up and look in the bag."

amused, you walk over to the kitchen and peek inside. to your surprise, it’s packed with your favorite snacks—energy bars, flavored drinks, and even a bag of those chips you always crave after a tough day.

you pull one out, giving him a teasing look. "you got this for me?"

he crosses his arms, looking away with a grunt. "don’t get all mushy on me. you’re not invincible, and I’m not gonna let you crash and burn because you’re too stubborn to take a break."

your heart warms at his blunt words. it’s such a katsuki thing to do—care deeply but cover it with his tough, no-nonsense attitude. "thanks," you say softly, popping open a drink. "I needed this."

he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his cheeks tainted a barely noticeable pink, "damn right you did."

you both lean against the kitchen counter, sharing a quiet moment as you sip your drink. the silence isn’t awkward—after years of working as pro-heroes and being married, you’ve grown comfortable in these rare moments of peace together.

still, the concern for each other is ever-present, unspoken yet deeply felt.

"how’s your arm?" katsuki asks suddenly, his sharp eyes scanning over you. you look down, realizing he’s talking about the burn you got in your last battle.

"it’s nothing," you reply, brushing it off. "just a scratch."

"bullshit," he mutters, stepping closer and taking your wrist gently, though his grip is firm. he inspects the burn with a scowl, clearly not pleased. "you’ve gotta be more careful."

you smile up at him. "and you’ve gotta stop blowing up everything in your path. not everyone can walk away unscathed like you, mr. dynamight."

he grunts, letting go of your wrist. "I’m not the one who got singed." his brow furrows slightly, a rare moment of softness crossing his features. "you know I hate seeing you hurt."

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a second, the busy world of pro-hero work melts away. in moments like this, it’s easy to forget how explosive and brash he usually is.

beneath all of it, he’s someone who cares deeply for you, even if he has a funny way of showing it.

"I know," you say gently. "but I can handle it."

he scoffs but doesn’t argue, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. "I know you can."

just as you’re about to make another playful comment, his phone buzzes, breaking the peaceful moment. katsuki glances at it, his expression darkening in annoyance.

"damn it. I’ve gotta head back."

your heart sinks a little, though you know this is just the reality of being heroes—time together is always cut short. "already?"

"yeah," he mutters, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "heroes don’t get long breaks." he hesitates for a moment, his eyes flicking back to you. "but listen, don’t go out on any more patrols tonight. you’ve done enough. rest."

you raise an eyebrow. "you know I don’t need you babying me, right?"

"yeah, well, too bad," he shoots back with a smirk, pulling you closer by the waist. "I’m your damn husband, and I say you’re staying home."

you roll your eyes, leaning into his chest. "bossy."

"it’s for your own good, y/n; you know that," he mutters, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "so, take a break. eat the snacks. watch some tv, I don’t care. just… don’t go bein’ reckless while I’m not around."

you smile, warmed by the concern under his rough words. "fine. but don’t come back looking like you’ve been through a war zone, okay? I’d like my husband in one piece."

he smirks, his signature cocky grin spreading across his face. "please. it’ll take more than a couple of lowlife villains to take me down."

with that, he steps away, grabbing his gauntlets and heading toward the door. but just before he leaves, he turns back, his voice softer but still carrying that familiar bite. "save me some of those snacks, yeah?"

you chuckle, nodding. "yeah, yeah. go be a hero."

he huffs, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "try not to miss me too much."

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[dreamsteddie]

I love pre Season 3 Steddie AUs so much because there are so many opportunities for Eddie to be so incredibly jealous of his boyfriend's new best friend, Robin Buckley.

Eddie got so used to Steve spending basically every moment of free time he has with Eddie in some capacity, even if it's just them shooting the shit in the back of Eddies van getting high after a long day and he's come to covet his Steve Time like a precious treasure.

And then all of a sudden Steve has a friend his age??? A friend who doesn't have an 8PM curfew???? What the fuck??????

But Eddie doesn't want to be a toxic, controlling boyfriend who doesn't let his partner have a social life! He really doesn't! And he gets that Steve and Robin went through something together that they won't, can't, share with him and they need each other. But he got so used to having all of Steve's time that whenever he has to spend a Saturday night alone because Robin and Steve are having Boy Time watching a soccer game and talking about their crushes, instead of hitting up his own friends or working on a campaign or whatever he just pines and sighs by the window lamenting about whether or not his beloved will return from the war. Wayne hates it.

When Steve and Eddie see each other the next day having spent literally less than 24 hours apart, Eddie latches on like a limpet and demands to be consoled with a thousand kisses and a grilled cheese sandwich.

Eventually, once Steve and Robin are a little more settled after the events of Starcourt, the three of them start spending more time together as a trio which at least allows Eddie to hold his boyfriend during movie night. Eddie reluctantly admits that Robin is actually really cool and they become fast friends right up until Eddie realized Robin is stealing his boyfriend ON PURPOSE.

It's not all the time but what Eddie has come to learn about Robin Buckley is that she is a menace. She'll real you in with her sweet freckles and charming ramblings but she's always looking for a way to fuck with Eddie, especially if he's wronged her first. Eddie returns a tape without rewinding it? Steve won't be at band practice tomorrow, actually, because Robin needs someone to help with her art project due on Monday. Eddie got Cheeto dust on Robin's favorite sweater? Suddenly Robin and Steve have plans to get drunk and plan a way for Robin to ask Vickie out for Valentine's Day. No boyfriends allowed. Eddie stole Robin's favorite Steve Sweater before she could get to it on movie night? Steve rainchecks Eddie for their bi-weekly Let's Get High date because Robin is conveniently sick. Must be because she didn't have a jacket on movie night.

Once Eddie catches on it becomes a fierce game competition between the both of them. Steve acts like he's none the wiser, but he's secretly lapping up all the attention he's getting.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Car Rides

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.

Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!

~*~

"Can you move your seat up?"

There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."

Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.

He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.

"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.

"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.

"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."

"Yes ma'am."

You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.

"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"

Foolproof! Brilliant!

Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.

Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.

Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.

Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.

It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?

Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.

You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.

The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.

After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.

Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.

The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.

And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.

Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.

Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.

You're caught now.

Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.

Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.

You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.

Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.

Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.

"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.

You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.

"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.

He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.

"Clears the head."

You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.

"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.

He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.

He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.

It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.

"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.

"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.

"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."

"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.

Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.

"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.

You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.

He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.

He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.

Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.

He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.

"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.

Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.

"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.

"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.

Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.

He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.

"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.

You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.

He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.

With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."

His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.

Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.

He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.

The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.

Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.

He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.

His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.

You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.

Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.

You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.

He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.

Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.

Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.

As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.

[thetempleofhades]

favorites pt2

this is mostly self indulgent. just fontaine being my favorite. this is an alternate version with imposter au creator! reader.

Maybe it was childish in the eyes of others that you preferred Fontaine over every other nation. You had been ridiculed and branded as an imposter in Mondstadt, you had been nearly killed in Liyue, had been nearly killed again in Inazuma, you didn't neven want to talk about Sumeru.

You didn't want to even think about the Fatui or their reigning Archon, The Tsaritsa. Fontaine had been the first place that you ran to that didn't try to kill you or accuse you of a heinous crime. You had nearly broken down crying at the realization that the residents of Fontaine weren't going to hurt you.

You looked out at the rain, watching it fall with trembling hands as you sat at a table, having tea with Furina and Neuvillette.

"....Your Grace?" Neuvillette called your attention softly, staring at you with a concerned look as he took notice of your trembling hands. "Are you alright?"

It was overwhelming. This was the first time you'd been asked if you were okay since the moment you arrived in Teyvat. It was.... strange. In a horrible way, running and avoiding death was something you got used to. you used to hide in caves and amongst the hilichurls for a moments of respite and look at your scars.

Your shaken eyes stared down at your scarred hands, "Um... Yes... I'm fine." It sounded like a lie from your lips. You weren't fine. Fontaine had refused to hunt you down, and the moment you entered it's borders, Fontaine protected you. Furina, Clorinde, and Neuvillette protected you and comforted you. Why was Fontaine the first to protect you? Were people truly that cruel?

Furina's eyes noticed your shaken state and she exchanged a look with Neuvillette. "Your Grace, please try the cake! It's of highest quality, as is everything and everyone that graces my table." Smugness radiated from her as she pushed the piece of cake towards you, eager to get you to eat something, anything.

You looked up towards her as her presence calmed you down from your anxiety. Your shaky hand reached for the fork. "Is it really okay for me to be here, won't it cause problems with the other nations?"

"Forget about those guys! Those Archons have rotting brains and feeble bodies. They should have just turned to dust instead." Furina scoffed as she rolled her eyes. "I don't really care about them, Fontaine welcomes you and we'll protect our beloved creator." She smiled at her and you relaxed slowly as you looked down at your cake before taking a bite.

"...!" Your eyes widened as you stared down at the slice of cake. "....It's good." You commented quietly, not noticing the pleased look on both Neuvillette and Furina's face.

"Everyone here treasures you, Your Grace. You don't have to worry about anything and everyone who has hurt you will never be able to come here so easily. Rest easy and enjoy all the things we have to offer you." Neuvillette's voice was soothing as you found yourself nodding.

Yes.... you did like Fontaine.... You liked being in Fontaine...

Okay, you liked slightly less now that you were in an actual prison.

"Why are going to a prison?" You asked Neuvillette, nervous as you shifted in the lift you were in. You tugged your jacket closer to your frame as you looked up at the man who had been by your side since you had arrived in Fontaine. "I'm... not being arrested, right?"

"No, of course not, Your Grace. You haven't done anything wrong in the slightest. This is the Fortress of Meropide. The administrator of this place, Wriothesley is a personal friend. I thought you should be introduced to him as well as you have decided to reside in Fontaine for now.

Before you could respond, the lift opened and you really weren't sure how to feel about this place.

You shyly waved to those who you past. They were all staring at you, it was a little unnerving but it didn't feel like they disliked you.

You currently found yourself in an office as said man, (Wriothesley was what Neuvillette called him) poured you tea. "It's chamomile tea, Your Grace. You seem a little nervous." The man smiled at you which only made a blush of embarrassment appear on your cheeks.

You wondered if anyone was ever disappointed when they learnt that you were the Creator of this world, you didn't fit the title of All Powerful. Your time being hunted had made you skittish and paranoid.

You looked to the side as Sigewinne, the Melusine that Neuvillette told you about entered and your hear jumped. You had always been fond of cute things and Sigewinne was cute, you had always been fond of children.

"Hello, Your Grace!" She smiled at you happily and you swore you could cry. She was so cute....

You quickly averted your eyes, to try and keep your composure, to not seem strange, "Um, hello to you too." You greeted her, the shyness leaving you as a soft smile curled at you lips.

You kept the steaming cup in hand, not yet drinking it.

"Their Grace has decided to reside in Fontaine for the moment as we sort out the issue with the other Archons." Neuvillette quietly informed Wriothesley while you were enamored with Sigewinne and talking to her quietly. "It will most likely be a drawn out affair. The other Archons will likely not admit their wrong doings." Neuvillette frowned, which was mimicked by Wriothesley.

You were oblivious to their conversation as you talked quietly to Sigewinne about the sights you had seen so far. "Neuvillette and Furina have been making sure my meals are good enough."

"I'll write out a detailed meal plan so you can recover quickly!" Sigewinne seemed happy to be able to do something for you and you couldn't refuse her after seeing her excitement.

Your eyes softened as you smiled. "I'll make sure to follow it fully."

Yeah... Fontaine was great.... You didn't mind staying her for a while...

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (08)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 6.5k

Aliyah's Notes: i fucking hate this so much. i dont like anything about this chapter but the next chapters are gonna be yummy. hope u enjoy this trash :)

You stepped through the threshold into Rafe’s penthouse, and you were immediately struck by the space—clean, modern, and surprisingly immaculate. The quiet hum of New York City below faded, giving way to a silence you didn’t expect. The place felt polished, with clean lines and a minimalistic aesthetic that was entirely different from the messy and chaotic persona Rafe projected.

The living room opened up to an expansive view of SoHo’s city lights, stretching out in glittering rows beneath the vast windows. Soft, ambient lighting spills over sleek furniture—a large sectional couch in dark charcoal, a glass coffee table with a few tasteful magazines stacked in one corner, and a matching armchair positioned just right. Everything was so... neat. Even his shoes by the entryway were perfectly lined up.

You hesitated just inside the doorway, suddenly hyper-aware of the tension still knotted in your chest. After everything tonight, the walls of this calm, organized space almost seemed to close in around you, amplifying the turmoil still spinning inside your head.

“You can come in, you know,” Rafe’s voice broke the silence, snapping you back to the moment. He was standing beside you, watching as your eyes roved around the room. “Promise, there’s no trapdoor waiting to drop you,” he added, his attempt at humor softening his tone.

You managed a weak smile, stepping fully into the apartment. “Yeah, of course, no—uh, I guess I just… expected it to look different,” you admitted, letting your fingers drift over the cool surface of the console table by the door. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere.

“What did you expect?” He grinned, kicking off his own shoes and motioning for you to make yourself comfortable. “Mountain of pizza boxes? A shrine to myself?”

The corner of your mouth lifted, and despite yourself, you chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Thank you.” He placed a hand over his heart with exaggerated gratitude. “I’ve put a lot of work into fooling people into thinking I’m a responsible adult.”

That got another smile out of you, and for a moment, the silence settled into something comfortable. You took a few tentative steps further into the space, letting yourself take in the polished decor, the subtle hints of personality hidden in the smallest details—a leather-bound book resting on the side table, a worn-in baseball cap hanging from a hook by the door, the faintest scent of coffee lingering in the air.

“Here, let me take your jacket,” Rafe offered, holding out a hand. His voice was calm, and there was a warmth in his eyes as he met your gaze. You hesitated, gripping the edges of your coat a little tighter before relenting, letting him slide it off your shoulders and hang it neatly by the entryway.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No problem.” He gave a gentle nod, gesturing toward the couch. “Why don’t you sit for a minute? Or, if you want something to drink, I can grab you some water?”

The idea of sitting felt almost foreign to you, as if your body couldn’t settle even if you tried. “Water sounds nice,” you said, though your voice wavered as you followed him to the plush couch, perching awkwardly at the edge.

Rafe returned a moment later, handing you a glass of water. You muttered a thank you, taking a slow sip as he settled down beside you, keeping a respectful distance. For a while, the two of you just sat in silence, the soft hum of the city outside the only sound filling the space.

After a beat, Rafe broke the silence. “Wow,” he began, glancing sideways at you, “Tonight was insane.”

You nodded slowly, his words sinking in. For a moment, it felt like everything was too quiet, too still, and your mind began to race, searching for something—anything—to fill the silence.

As if sensing your discomfort, Rafe tried to lighten the mood, leaning back and stretching his arms across the couch. “So,” he started, an easy smile playing at his lips, “not to brag, but I make a mean cup of ramen. Best in New York. You hungry?”

The words landed like a trigger, setting off a wave of anxiety that you’d tried so hard to keep at bay. You felt your throat tighten, your heartbeat quickening as an overwhelming rush of emotions began to build. His casual offer had hit a nerve, and suddenly, the walls of the penthouse felt like they were closing in.

“I don’t… I don’t need anything,” you replied sharply, your voice wavering as your grip tightened around the glass of water. But Rafe’s well-meaning gaze didn’t falter, and the pressure inside you began to build, spiraling out of control.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice still gentle, still concerned, as if he wanted to make sure you were truly okay.

The question, that seemingly innocent offer, tore through you like a wound reopening. It was as if he’d taken a crowbar to a door you’d worked so hard to keep shut, prying it open until every raw, painful memory began flooding in, drowning you. Your breaths came faster, shallow, the room closing in around you as you tried to hold yourself together.

“No, I don’t want anything to eat! Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Your voice rose, sharper than you intended, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of something dark and manic. The walls seemed to close in around you as the noise in your mind grew louder and louder. “I don’t want to eat! I’m fine, okay? I don’t need anything!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned back slightly, hands raised in a calming gesture. “Whoa, hey… I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought… maybe you’d want something, that’s all.”

His words were gentle, but they only fueled the fire. “Everyone thinks I need to eat,” you continued, almost hysterical now, your voice shaking. “It’s always about food, isn’t it? Do they think I’m starving, or that I can’t take care of myself? I don’t need anyone to tell me to eat, or to make sure I’m doing it right, or to ask if I’m hungry every five seconds. I can take care of myself. I don’t need—”

Your voice cracked, and suddenly the weight of your own words hit you, the admission cutting deeper than you’d realized. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that had finally broken free. All of the pressure, the expectations, the shame—it all came crashing down, suffocating you.

Without waiting, you shot to your feet, stumbling as you rushed toward the bathroom. Your breaths were coming in ragged gasps now, your heart hammering in your chest as you slammed the door shut behind you. The mirror loomed in front of you, but you couldn’t bear to look at your reflection, couldn’t face the hollow, haunted expression staring back at you.

Instead, you leaned over the sink, gripping the edges until your knuckles turned white, trying to keep the nausea at bay. But it was too much—the panic, the shame, the weight of Rafe’s eyes on you, seeing everything you’d tried so hard to hide. With a shaky breath, you turned away from the sink and sank to your knees, the familiar wave of nausea rising as the tears spilled over, thick and heavy.

The sound of your own sobs echoed off the tiled walls, and you buried your face in your hands, feeling the last of your composure slip away. It was a battle you’d fought alone for so long, a pain you’d hidden from everyone, even yourself. But here, in this stark, sterile bathroom, the weight of it all felt like too much to bear. The shame, the desperation, the need for control—it all crashed over you like a wave, drowning out everything else until you were left gasping for air.

Your throat burned, and the nausea twisted deep in your stomach, leaving you hunched over the toilet bowl. You gripped the sides of it, trying to will the shame away, trying to breathe through the crushing weight of panic that made it hard to even look up.

Then the door opened, and you froze, shoulders tensing as you felt his presence behind you. You wanted to scream at him to go away, to leave you alone, but before you could, you felt his hands on your back, warm and steady, rubbing gentle circles along your spine.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” he murmured, his voice low and calm, completely different from the usual playful, cocky tone. He crouched beside you, one hand reaching to hold your hair back, careful not to touch your face but close enough to keep it out of your way. It was a kindness you hadn’t expected—a tenderness that caught you off guard, that almost made it harder to keep from crying.

“Rafe…please…just go,” you choked out, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

But he stayed, his hand warm on your back, grounding you as your breaths came faster, rougher. “I’m not leaving,” he said quietly. “I don’t care about seeing you like this. Just focus on breathing. I’ve got you.”

Your shame deepened, the tears spilling over as the familiar cycle took hold, and you couldn’t stop it. But Rafe was right there, anchoring you, holding your hair gently and murmuring quiet reassurances as you retched, his hand never leaving your back.

When the worst of it passed, you slumped forward, feeling completely spent, the last shreds of your dignity scattered. You could barely bring yourself to lift your head, and when you finally did, you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. “You…you should’ve left,” you mumbled, your voice trembling as you wiped at your cheeks with shaky hands.

Rafe ignored your words, shifting so he could reach for a washcloth by the sink. He dampened it with warm water, and before you could protest, he gently tilted your chin, dabbing at your face with a gentleness that almost broke you. “Shh. You don’t have to say anything.”

The warmth of the cloth felt soothing against your skin, and the quiet intimacy of the moment—of Rafe here, with you in your most vulnerable state—left you speechless. He wasn’t supposed to see this side of you. This was meant to be an arrangement, something on paper, and yet here he was, his touch gentle, his gaze filled with an unexpected tenderness that left you feeling more exposed than ever.

Once he finished wiping your face, he reached for a glass of water, holding it out. “Here. Just rinse. You’ll feel better,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

You managed a weak nod, your hands trembling as you took the glass. After rinsing your mouth, you set it aside, still feeling hollow and raw, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Rafe didn’t pull away. He simply stayed close, watching you with a quiet patience that made your heart ache.

Then he reached into the cabinet, pulling out a tube of toothpaste. He unscrewed the cap, squeezing a bit onto a fresh toothbrush before handing it to you. “Here,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Trust me, it’ll help.”

His steady presence, his calm, unhurried movements, made it impossible to hide. You took the toothbrush, swallowing hard as you glanced away, barely able to hold back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill over. “You…you don’t have to do this,” you murmured, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he replied, his voice a soft murmur as he leaned back against the counter, staying close without crowding you. 

You closed your eyes, brushing your teeth in silence, every movement feeling surreal, like you’d stepped into someone else’s life. Rafe’s presence, his quiet support, felt too real, too genuine. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine that it was—all of it. That he was truly here for you, that you weren’t alone.

When you finally rinsed and set the toothbrush aside, he reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “There,” he said, his voice warm. “Better?”

You nodded, though words felt impossible. He offered a soft smile, his hand lingering at the edge of your shoulder. “You’re okay,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to keep this all to yourself, you know?”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the ache of those words settle deep inside you. This was supposed to be fake—a carefully crafted arrangement, a performance for the public eye. Yet here he was, holding you in a way that felt so real it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

He shook his head, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “It’s all right. You don’t need to apologize.” For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence settling around you like a gentle blanket. Then, he tilted his head toward the hallway, his voice low and warm. “Come on, let me show you where you’ll be sleeping. You look exhausted.”

You nodded, the fight in you all but gone, and let him guide you down the hall.

He led you down the hallway off the living room, his hand light on your shoulder as if he was afraid to push too hard, but still determined to keep you steady. The quiet around you felt different now, no longer suffocating, but soothing. The weight of your earlier breakdown lingered, and you were acutely aware of his presence, the warmth of his hand anchoring you even as your mind replayed your outburst. But he said nothing, just kept moving forward, offering a silent comfort that, strangely, made you feel safe.

He opened the door to a room on the right, flipping on the light to reveal what appeared to be his guest room—if it could be called that. The room was filled with clutter: a stack of boxes against one wall, a few stray bags on the floor, and clothes that hadn’t quite made it into the closet. It was the only part of his home that didn’t feel curated, and you almost laughed at the mess, a strange relief filling you at the imperfection.

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed as he glanced around the room. “I, uh, haven’t really had the time to keep this room… organized,” he admitted, shooting you an apologetic smile. “Usually, it’s just storage, but—well, it has a bed.” He gestured to a neatly made bed tucked into the far corner, the only part of the room untouched by the chaos.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at your lips. “No, it’s perfect.”

Rafe’s expression softened, his hand dropping to his side as he watched you. “Good. I’m glad,” he said quietly. He took a step back, giving you some space as he gestured to the dresser by the wall. “There should be some extra blankets in there if you get cold, and if you need anything else…” He hesitated, meeting your eyes. “Just let me know. I’ll be right down the hall. Or, actually,” he added, seeming to correct himself, “I’ll probably be downstairs on the couch, but I’ll leave the door open. You know, just in case.”

What he didn’t say was that he couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at him. After seeing your outburst, and watching you throw up, he couldn’t bring himself to fully leave your side. He’d stay close enough to hear the slightest sound from your room, ready to be there if you needed him. The open door was his quiet reassurance: he wanted to be close enough to protect you, to do anything possible if the night took a turn.

You nodded, a quiet understanding passing between you. Despite everything, despite the tension and confusion that had brought you here, there was an undeniable comfort in his presence tonight.

Rafe lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as you settled onto the edge of the bed, hands twisting nervously in your lap. You were still reeling from everything, still shaky, but the exhaustion was starting to settle in, weighing your limbs down. He looked at you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes, before he gave you a small nod and turned to go.

But just as he was about to close the door behind him, he paused. “Oh, wait. Here.” He pulled open a drawer in a nearby cabinet and took out a plain, oversized T-shirt, holding it out to you. “Thought you might want something more comfortable to sleep in.”

The kindness of the gesture caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at the shirt in his hands, your heart unexpectedly warm.

“Thank you, Rafe,” you murmured, taking the shirt from him. The fabric was soft between your fingers, worn in a way that felt comforting.

He gave a soft, almost shy smile. “Anytime. Get some rest, alright?”

You nodded, watching as he closed the door halfway, leaving it just slightly ajar, a sliver of light from the hallway casting a gentle glow across the room.

Once alone, you changed into the shirt, the fabric falling around you in a way that was oddly comforting, like being wrapped in a part of him. You slid under the blankets, pulling them up to your chin, and tried to focus on the steady rhythm of your breathing. But even with the warmth of the bed and the security of the walls around you, sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind replayed the events of the night.

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last. You tossed and turned, shifting under the blankets as you tried to settle, but your mind wouldn’t quiet, the unease creeping back in. Finally, with a sigh, you sat up, clutching the edge of the blanket as you tried to weigh your options.

You could hear the faint murmur of the TV downstairs, the soft hum of sound carrying through the quiet penthouse. Something about it felt reassuring, like a reminder that you weren’t alone here, even if everything in your mind felt isolated and dark.

Almost on autopilot, you slipped out of bed and padded toward the door, pulling it open quietly as you stepped into the hallway. Your feet moved almost without thinking, carrying you toward the staircase and down into the living room, where Rafe lay sprawled on the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV. He looked comfortable, one arm draped over his head, his eyes half-closed, the flickering light from the screen casting shadows across his face.

As you approached, he noticed you, his expression shifting from surprise to a warm smile. “Can’t sleep?” he asked, sitting up a little, his tone gentle.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stopped just a few feet away. “I… I just couldn’t quiet my mind.” You hesitated, glancing at the empty space beside him on the couch. “Would you mind if I… joined you?”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and he patted the cushion next to him. “Of course. Here, take a seat.”

You eased down beside him, feeling the warmth of his presence as he settled back, his arm stretching out along the back of the couch. For a while, you just sat there in silence, the quiet hum of the TV filling the space between you.

After a moment, you took a steadying breath, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I’m sorry… about earlier. About… the way I reacted.” Your voice trembled slightly, and you kept your gaze fixed on your hands, avoiding his eyes.

Rafe shook his head, his tone firm but gentle. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/N. Not for that.”

You managed a weak smile, feeling a twinge of relief at his understanding. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like everyone’s always watching me. Watching what I eat, what I do, how I look.” The confession felt raw, vulnerable, but sitting here with him in the dim light, it felt almost safe.

Rafe’s gaze was steady, attentive, as he listened to you, his hand resting on the back of the couch just inches from your shoulder. “I get it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what you do, someone’s waiting for you to slip up.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the understanding in his eyes. “I… I guess. I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Rafe’s expression turned thoughtful, almost pained, as he shifted, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I know that feeling more than I’d like to admit. It’s like… I’m always trying to be someone for my family, or at least… the son my dad wanted. And after my mom died…” He hesitated, his voice catching slightly, and he looked away as if he was afraid to let you see the rawness in his eyes. “I guess I felt like I had to fill a space I didn’t even know how to reach.”

Your heart twisted, a soft ache blooming as you watched him open up. You saw him differently in that moment, the weight of expectations he carried, the vulnerability he kept hidden behind the confident mask he showed the world. Slowly, you reached over, placing your hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. “I’m so sorry, Rafe. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “It’s not something I talk about much. But… I guess it feels different with you.” His thumb brushed against your hand, the light touch sending a warmth through you that you couldn’t ignore. There was something in his eyes, something unspoken, a tenderness you hadn’t seen before, and it made your heart beat just a little faster.

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity, made your chest tighten in a way you hadn’t expected.

You managed a small smile, feeling a strange warmth settle over you. “Thank you, Rafe… for tonight. Really.”

He reached over, gently placing a hand over yours, his touch reassuring, grounding. “Anytime.” His voice was low, sincere, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart race, a warmth spreading through your chest that you couldn’t quite ignore. “I know this started out as a… as a deal, but I’d be more than happy to talk to your family, if that would help.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a softness in your chest that you hadn’t felt in so long. No one had ever made an effort like this for you. You squeezed his hand gently, meeting his gaze with a warmth that mirrored his own. “Thank you, Rafe.”

For a long moment, you just looked at each other, the quiet intimacy of the night wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His thumb traced slow, comforting circles over your hand, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill through you that you hadn’t expected. You didn’t know when it had happened, but something had shifted between you. 

As the quiet settled around you, the intensity of the moment began to ease, replaced by a warmth that made you feel unexpectedly at peace. Rafe still had his hand over yours, his thumb brushing soft, idle circles across your knuckles, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he looked at you.

“What?” you asked, noticing the spark of amusement in his eyes.

He shrugged, leaning back a little, though his hand didn’t leave yours. “I don’t know… you just have this look right now. It’s kind of cute.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right. After everything tonight, ‘cute’ is the last thing I’d call myself.”

Rafe’s smile softened, and his eyes held a kind of warmth that made your chest flutter. “No, seriously,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You’re always beautiful, but right now… it’s like you’re letting go of something. And that’s what’s cute. You’ve got this calm about you, like you’re finally breathing easy.”

You blushed at his words, warmth spreading across your face. “I… I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Say nothing,” he replied softly, his thumb still tracing small circles over your skin. “Just let me say something. I’ve been a mess lately… and I know I’ve been distant.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away. “I owe you an explanation. About ghosting. The last two weeks… I know I hurt you.”

Then, just as you were about to look away, unsure of where this was going, Rafe continued; “I’m sorry for disappearing on you. I should’ve talked to you, explained. But I didn’t know how. I still don’t really know how…” He trailed off, his voice faltering for the first time since you’d sat down. “I didn’t want to mess things up, and I thought that if I kept my distance, it’d be easier.”

The honesty in his words made something ache in your chest, but it wasn’t just frustration anymore. There was understanding there too, a quiet sympathy for the walls he had built around himself, the things he wasn’t willing to confront until now.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. “Why pull away?”

Rafe’s lips twisted into a rueful smile. “I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know why I do half the shit I do sometimes.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t want you to think I was using you. I didn’t want you to think this was just about the deal. Because it isn’t,” his gaze meeting yours, and the vulnerability in his eyes hit you like a wave. “Something happened,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “With my family.”

You frowned, trying to make sense of what he meant. “What do you mean?”

He let out a long breath, like the words were difficult to get out. “It’s about my dad—but it’s… more than that.” His fingers traced the edge of the couch, his eyes avoiding yours as he searched for the right words. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you to think I was a mess.” He paused, then let out a humorless laugh, almost bitter. “But I am.”

Your heart sank as you watched him, the walls he had built around himself starting to crumble in front of you. Rafe’s eyes were distant now, focused on something you couldn’t see.

“My dad called me two weeks ago,” he continued, his voice tight. “He’s always… well, he's always trying to control everything. He told me I had to come to this meeting with him—something about my career and how I was handling things, how I’m not living up to the expectations he set.” He shook his head, a frustrated sigh escaping him. “But that wasn’t the worst part. It wasn’t just him. It was my stepmom, too. They’ve been pushing for me to change, to be more like my sister. She’s got this perfect life, the one my dad’s always wanted for me. And I don’t know how to explain it, but that day, I just… I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t keep pretending I was someone I’m not. So I shut off my phone. I just…” His voice trailed off as his hand dropped into his lap, the frustration still evident in the tension in his shoulders.

You listened in silence, the weight of his words sinking in. You had always seen Rafe as someone in control—confident, cocky, never afraid to face any challenge. But now, sitting here beside him, you saw a side of him you hadn’t expected. A side that was raw, real, and 2human.

“I couldn’t talk to you because I didn’t know how to handle it,” Rafe admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “I saw your texts. All of them. I just… I didn’t know what to say. I thought if I ignored it, it would be easier. But it wasn’t. And I’m sorry. I hurt you, and I should’ve been better. I should’ve communicated. I don’t expect you to just forgive me right away, but…” He paused, taking a deep breath.

Your chest tightened as you processed everything he was saying. It wasn’t just about the deal anymore, and it never had been. It was about everything he had kept buried deep inside of him—the weight of his family’s expectations, the pressure of trying to live up to something he couldn’t even define.

“I… I don’t know what to say either,” you whispered, your voice shaking a little. “You’ve hurt me, Rafe. You disappeared for two weeks without a word, and I didn’t know why. And it wasn’t just the silence—it was the feeling that I wasn’t even worth telling the truth to.”

Rafe’s expression softened, and he looked like he might say something, but you raised your hand to stop him, needing him to understand before he tried to apologize again.

“But I get it now,” you continued, voice a little stronger. “I get that it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t because of something I did. And maybe that helps, a little. But I can’t just pretend it didn’t hurt, Rafe. I’m not that strong.”

His eyes flickered with regret, and he nodded slowly. “I know. And I’m sorry. I really am.” He was still so vulnerable, still unsure of what the next step was, but something in his eyes—something raw and genuine—made you believe him.

The room fell into silence again, but this time it wasn’t the same heavy silence. There was understanding, there was pain—but there was also the unspoken possibility of moving forward. You weren’t sure where it was going, or what would happen after this, but for the first time in two weeks, you didn’t feel completely lost. You could see the cracks in him, and maybe, just maybe, you could help him heal them.

Rafe was leaning close, his hand resting over yours, fingers brushing softly. His thumb traced lazy circles across your skin, it felt like a reassurance. His gaze flickered down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you could see the hesitation there, the uncertainty, but also the longing.

You could feel the way your body responded to him. The way your chest tightened, how your breath hitched every time his thumb brushed your hand. And then, as if something finally clicked between you both, you leaned in, closing the distance just a little bit more.

Rafe’s eyes flickered down to your lips again, and this time, there was no hesitation. His hand, still covering yours, shifted until his fingers curled gently around your wrist, guiding you closer. His breath brushed against your skin as he closed the space between you, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

You both paused, breath mingling, sharing the same fragile moment. His eyes searched yours one last time, like he was trying to read you, to make sure you were truly there with him, in this moment. And then, without another word, his lips brushed against yours—a gentle touch, hesitant, as if he was testing the waters.

But when your lips met, it was like everything inside of you unraveled. His kiss was soft but insistent, like he couldn’t hold back any longer, like this was the one thing that could break through all the tension, all the confusion, all the weight of the unspoken things. And you kissed him back without thinking, without second-guessing, as if everything inside of you had been waiting for this exact moment.

His free hand lifted, gently cupping your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek as his lips pressed harder against yours. The kiss deepened, a slow, aching rhythm that made your heart race. You could feel the emotions, the vulnerability, the rawness in every touch, in every second of the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, it was only just enough to breathe. You rested your forehead against his, both of you trying to catch your breath. His eyes were closed for a moment, as if savoring the closeness, before he opened them, meeting your gaze once again.

“So…” You began, your voice light but purposeful. “About this whole marriage thing.”

Rafe blinked, pulling back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “What about it?” 

You smirked, feeling the words roll off your tongue before you could stop them. “I don’t know, I just keep thinking about how weird it’s going to be to call you ‘husband.’”

The effect was immediate. Rafe froze for a second, his gaze locking on yours, wide-eyed, as though the word had sent a shock through him. You noticed the way his breath caught, the way his hand tensed around yours, and the flush creeping up his neck.

“Wait, what?” He stammered, trying to mask the surprise but failing. “You’re—seriously, you just said ‘husband’ like it was nothing?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Well, it is a word I’m going to have to get used to, right? You’re going to be stuck with it, whether you like it or not.”

Rafe let out a low, almost nervous laugh, but you could see the way his mind was clearly spiraling as he tried to regain his composure. “Yeah, well… I mean, it’s just—uh, it’s a little weird to hear it come out of your mouth. You know? ‘Husband.’”

You couldn’t help but smirk at the way he was tripping over his words, clearly caught off guard by the casualness with which you said it. 

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll feel more natural once we’re actually married.” You gave him a wink, knowing exactly how to throw him off balance.

But Rafe was looking at you differently now, his eyes softening as they flickered over your face. You could see the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, his gaze lingering on your lips before he snapped his focus back to your eyes, clearly struggling to rein in whatever thoughts were spinning in his mind.

And then, as though he couldn’t contain it anymore, he leaned in suddenly, pressing his lips to the side of your face, just below your ear. It was a quick, almost frantic kiss, like he couldn’t resist any longer. The next moment, his lips were on your temple, then your cheek, the soft, warm press of his mouth against your skin like an involuntary response.

You blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of it all, but a small, surprised laugh escaped you. “What was that about?” you asked, breathless from the unexpected affection.

Rafe pulled back, his expression almost shy now, like he hadn’t meant to do it but couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t know,” he muttered under his breath, not quite looking you in the eye. “You just… you said it again. And you looked so fucking pretty right now. I couldn’t hold myself back.” He was talking to himself more than to you, the words tumbling out as his hand found its way back to yours, his fingers curling around yours as though grounding himself.

You were silent for a moment, studying him with a mixture of amusement and something else—a warmth that spread in your chest, a recognition that maybe, just maybe, this whole marriage thing wasn’t so bad after all. His reaction was unexpected, but it made something stir in you. You felt a little giddy at the way he was reacting, the way he was unraveling in front of you. There was something so raw about it.

“Rafe,” you said softly, your voice teasing but with a deeper hint of affection now. “You’re really freaking out over the word ‘husband’?”

He gave you a sheepish look, a little embarrassed but still leaning in a little closer, as if he couldn’t help himself. “It just—did something to me, okay?” His voice dropped to a low whisper, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes. “I don’t know. The way you said it… made me feel something I wasn’t ready for.”

Before you could respond, he kissed your cheek again, this time slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to savor the moment. He pulled back just enough to glance at you, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmured, “I swear, you’re killing me with that word.”

And then, almost without thinking, you whispered the word again, dragging it out just a little for dramatic effect. “Husband…”

His eyes closed at the sound, his breath catching in his throat. His reaction was instant. His hands cupped your face just as you had done, and suddenly, his lips were everywhere—across your forehead, along your jawline, down the side of your neck—each kiss soft, urgent, as if he couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t frantic, but it was definitely filled with a need that he wasn’t trying to hide anymore.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly between his kisses, your heart racing from the sweetness of it all. “Rafe,” you murmured through your laughter, “are you okay?”

He pulled back for a second, his forehead resting against yours as he let out a breathless chuckle. “Am I okay?” His voice was soft, almost incredulous. “I’m better than okay. I’m…” He stopped, looking at you with a look that was so intense, so unguarded, you felt it in your bones. “I’m kind of losing my mind over you right now, sweetheart.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth in his eyes catching you off guard. The words hung in the air, a confession he hadn’t meant to make but couldn’t help. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your own composure. This wasn’t the time for heavy emotions, not when things were still so uncertain between you both.

But as you looked at him, his lips still slightly parted, his breath mingling with yours, you couldn’t deny the pull that had formed between you, something that felt more real than the arrangement you had set out to create.

“So… about that husband thing,” you said, a teasing smile curving your lips. “You sure you can handle it?”

Rafe chuckled, pulling you a little closer, his hands now resting on your waist as his eyes softened. “I’m starting to think I might be in trouble.”

“Trouble?” You raised an eyebrow, playfully narrowing your eyes. “Only if you keep kissing me like that. Otherwise, you’re fine.”

He smirked, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Good to know,” he whispered, “I’ll make sure to keep kissing you then.”

chapter nine

[pomegranateandblood]

The Jacket (part 1/2)

Summary: Alive!reader gets assigned a new locker, finds Wally‘s letterman jacket and decides to keep it

Includes: Wally Clark x reader, smut

A/N: I just love Wally & Rhonda‘s friendship

"This is not what I meant when I asked for a new locker."  You said, scrunching your nose in disgust.

„Yeah, it's like they haven't cleaned it in decades" Your friend dusted her hands off.

A comical cloud of dust came out of the locker, when you finally managed to open the jammed metal door. Coughing, you stepped back.

Meanwhile, unbeknown to you, two students were watching. Dead Students to be exact.

„Hey, isn't that your locker, hot stuff?" Rhonda pointed her lollipop towards the situation.

The footballer turned and nearly tripped, running over to you.

„Stop panicking, it's not like you could do anything about it anyway." The brunette rolled her eyes and started following him.

„They promised my my mum they wouldn't give my locker away and now I see some-„ Wally tried to find the right words, holding onto Rhondas arm.

She raised a brow at him „Hot cheerleaders taking over your locker ?"

„I'm serious! All the stuff I have on me is in there, what if they throw it away?" He said, watching you hold up his letterman jacket.

„You're right, they really havent cleaned this in ages." You looked at your friend.

She reached inside, pulling out a blue and white jacket. You took it from her and held it up. „It's cute don't you think? Kinda vintage."

„Oh my god. look." She pointed at the stitching at the right top. ‚Wally' it read in white italic letters. You looked at her. „You think it belonged to the stadium guy?"

„Possible? I mean there's other stuff in there. Maybe he wants it back." Your friend crossed her arms. „We could go to the library at lunch and look into the yearbooks to find out."

The bell rang, interrupting your little locker investigation.

„Sounds like a plan." You said, before walking to class.

—

Wally anticipated lunch break and already waited in the yearbook section, when Rhonda suddenly appeared next to him.

„What are you doing here? Aren't you busy catching gossip in the teachers lounge ?" he asked, cocking a brow at her in question.

She smirked. „I love gossip, but seeing your big star student slash jock ego getting crushed by two human girls is even more entertaining to me"

Wally mocked her smirk and rolled his eyes. He was about to reply when he heard you and your friend entering the aisle.

„1981, 1982- ah here Yearbook of 1983. The trophy cabinet has a table with all, the state champion teams and his name was listed in that year."

Rhonda leaned her head on Wally‘s shoulder, or at least as far as she could with their height difference. „Oh superstar, even state champion? Aww, if I wasn't dead I'd feel sorry."

„Fuck you, Rhonda."  Wally scoffed, trying to concentrate on you skipping through the yearbook pages.

„Sorry I'm not into footballers, sweetheart." She sucked on her lollipop again, leaning against the shelf.

Wally took a deep breath. He was a nice guy, really and he liked Rhonda, but sometimes her attitude just got to him.

„Maybe, footballer dick is just what you need to get over your brooding and depressed mood."

Rhonda laughed. „ Ew." She pushed his shoulder.

„Turn to the exceptional students pages." Your friend said and flipped through the book.

There it was, a full double page.

In loving memory of Wally Clark stood under his picture. Fluffy black hair, chocolate brown eyes and charming smile, wearing the exact same jacket you found in your locker today.

„He's dead?" It sounded more like a questioin than a statement coming out of your mouth.

„Sad, he's sexy." You friend stated.

Rhonda nearly choked on her lollipop and Wally swallowed, before a smirk crept upon his lips.

„She did not just say that?" The shorter ghost crossed her arms.

„He is." You agreed before nudging your friend.

„You think he was a fuckboy ?" She laughed and you joined in. Taking the book from you she read the different things written about him.

„Look, this cheerleader wrote ‚He loved eating jelly filled donuts' Oh I'm sure he did" She wiggled her eyebrows.

„Well if I was born back then, I wouldn't mind him tasting my jelly filled donut." you said giggling.

After chattinf some more, the two of you put the book back and left, still giggling about the handsome footballer.

Wally's face burnt bright red and he felt like his cheeks were on fire. He knew that girls had found him cute back when he was alive, but he never heard girls talk about him like that.

„Congratulations stud, now you're a teenage girls' wet dream in two centuries." Rhonda joked and patted his shoulder.

„What do you mean ?" Wally asked nervously.

Of course he had sex before and he did like it rough, but he was in a relationship before he died and even now he only had one partner to relief his teenage hormones. Wally never wanted to use someone for their body, but this ‚trapped in the school as a ghost’ situation didn't really allow any relationships.

„What I mean is, that girls are or were obsessed with you. When you came to this school I couldn't go anywhere without the female students talk about ‚tall and sexy' you are and how hot you look during football practice."  She made a disgusted face and Wally looked at her in shock.

„Oh and don't we forgot about your girlfriend back then. She was very descriptive to her friends about your dick and how exactly you used it to bring her to the edge."

Wally now leaned against the shelves, trying not to freak out.

„But that was long ago, most of the ghosts here died after me." He said, trying to make himself feel better.

„I don't know why you're freaking out so much? I should be freaking out. Of disgust." She tried to calm him.

„You're right. I just thought- I can't believe I was so naiive." he said, looking down.

„Hey Wally, you're a nice guy." she said, making him smile. „Still entitled tho."

He laughed and rolled his eyes.

—

A few days later you were able togive Wally's mother the stuff you found in his locker. She seemed like a nice woman and you felt a little emotional at how grateful she was.

Especially because you decided to keep the letterman jacket. You gave it to the dry cleaners and basically lived in it ever since picking it up. It was slightly oversized on you but extremly comfortable.

But there was also something different since you wore it. You felt... watched. Just like today, when you got dressed after swimming club.

After leaving the shower, you put a towel over the bench to sit down. You took little longer than usual and had the changing room to yourself.

Suddenly, it's like something tickled over your back, down to your hips. A pleasant sensation. You shivered, reaching for the jacket to cover yourself.

You called out for someone. But you really were alone. Your friend had joked earlier  that Wally Clarks ghost would come for you, because you didn't give back his jacket. Luckily you didn't believe in ghosts and when you sat down on the bench, yet another thought invaded your mind.

You leaned back and opened your legs slightly. Wouldn't be the first time someone touched themselves in the locker rooms. The boys did it all the time after practice.

Your fingers travelled from your navel down to your already wet heat. Exploring your folds, before finding your clit, you closed your eyes. Wally Clark appeared behind your lids. He kneeled between your legs, strong hands holding your hips.

He kissed the creamy skin of your thighs upwards, the dreamiest of chocolate brown bedroom eyes looking up at you. He licked his plump lips before speaking against your folds, the vibration making you hiss out.

„Quite the unusual offer. Letting me eat you out so I'd forgive you for stealing." his tongue lapped up the wetness of your folds and one of his hands found your breasts, kneading them softly before pinching the nipple. One after one.

„Wally, please." You moaned and circled your clit faster. The feeling of being watched heightened your pleasure from the fantasy.

He sucked on your clit and his other hand also left your hip. Two of his fingers pushed inside you, pumping. „Mmmh" he moaned against your sensitive spot. You shivered and moaned his name again and again.

Goosebumps spread over your skin and you were sure his fingers would feel even better than your own. Shifting slightly on the bench, you were sure the towel underneath you was already soaked. The tight coil in your lower abdomen let you know you were close.

„If you weren't already late I'd edge you. Looking so pretty spread out for me on the bench." His fingers curled up and he switched between sucking and licking at your centre.

You came, biting down on your lower lip, so you wouldn't be heard in the nearby hallway. Opening your eyes, you adjusted to reality again and pulled his jacket together in front of your chest. You felt sick, pleasuring yourself to a dead boy. You decided to sit for a bit before redressing and drying your hair.

Wally still kneeled in between your legs. His lips glistened with your juices and he laughed „So much better than a jelly donut"

Licking his fingers clean, he tried to calm his nerves. His hard cock strained against the grey sweatpants, so he sat up and adjusted himself. He really tried holding back, knowing what he did was technically a grey zone of consent, but seeing you spread out on the bench, naked and wearing his jacket, he just couldn't not help you out. Also, you did say you wouldn't mind a few days ago.

He just wished you could see him. It made him dream on his own, about you two. Maybe on the bleachers or in the teachers lounge. Wally really liked the couch in the teachers lounge.

He watched you get dressed and waited for you to leave so he could take care of himself.

—

The thoughts of Wally haunted you throughout the next few weeks. Maybe his ghost did haunt you. So you decided to help the homecoming committee decorate the school with posters and decoration up until the late night to take your mind off it.

You fell asleep in the Gym. Waking up in the middle of the night on the hard floor you sighed. You were about to collect your stuff and leave when you heard a moan. Looking up, your jaw nearly dropped to the Floor.

Wally sat upon a gym mat, the ghost of a cheerleader who died in the 90s after dropping from a pyramid sat in his lap.

There was an obvious tent in his grey sweatpants. Her cheer skirt was tucked into the seam revealing her bare pussy with two of Wally's fingers knuckle deep inside. There was a wet spot on his crotch and the squishy noise of his fingers pumping at a fast pace hollowed in the gym.

Her moans were swallowed by his lips, hungrily devouring her mouth.

You squeezed your thighs together at the sight. Envious of the girl. Wally pushed a third finger inside, keeping the rough pace. The blonde girl reached down to rub her clit, but Wally slapped her hand away.

He pulled away from her, biting her bottom lip.

„You only get to do that when my cock has been inside of you."

Your head fell back against the wall. God, you must be really going crazy. Hallucinating or dreaming, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

The blonde pouted. „M'sorry Wally."

He helped her climb off his lap before he stood up on the mat. She was already getting on all fours with spread knees. Meanwhile Wally pulled his sweatpants down, revealing his impressive girth. Getting on one knee behind her, he pumped himself with his head thrown back, before guiding himself inside her.

He started with slow thrusts, obviously not doing this for the first time. The blonde under him closed her eyes, mouth agape in pleasure.

Wally picked up the speed while kneading her asscheeks. Your eyes widened when he spread them, letting a string of his spit drip onto her other hole. He massaged it with his thumb and the blonde responded with screaming his name „Please, Wally. Please Please Please." she writhted under his touch as he pressed down with his thumb.

Your -or more his jacket felt too hot all of a sudden and you felt your hardened nipples against the fabric of your bra. Pressing your thighs together you tried to get some relief.

The blonde bit her lip to silence her pleas buz Wally slapped her cheek „No. No. No. Baby. I wanna hear you. Let them hear you." His hand went back to her ass.

„You can pleasure yourself now." he instructed and her fingers immediately found her clit, circling roughly.

After her first orgasm, he pulled out. His dick dripping with her juices, the head angry and red. Wally helped her turn on her back, legs draped over his shoulders, guiding just the tip inside.

She whimpered. „Please come on my tits, Wally. I want to taste you."

You bit your lip at her voice, full of need and desire.

He smirked and started jerking above her chest. Her hand joined him as he put his abover hers, guiding her how he liked it.

He groaned her name as he came. Thick spurts of his glassy cum decorating her rosy nipples, up to her chin, which she greedily licked up.

She started licking him clean. ��Thank you, Wally. Mmmh." He pushed her head down further, and looked up.

You stared at him wide eyed as you made eye contact with him. At first his gaze looked dazed from pleasure, but then he thought you could see him.

But that wouldn't be possible would it? Humans can't see ghosts.

Wally tucked himself away and helped his companion fix herself, but when he turned around you were gone.

He was definitely going to seek you out tomorrow.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed, let me know in the comments & leave me some love 💕

[luvfy0dor]

“His Hands are in my Hair, His Clothes are in my Room ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; Nikolais and Chuuyas are hardly proofread, Nikolais was rushed, Nikolais nearly got scrapped, I don't like Nikolais, maybe a little ooc

Description; sharing clothing w the BSD boys

A/n; GUYS OH MY GOD I GOT A 5 ON MY FIRST AP EXAM IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF AHHHHHH IM GONNA CRY also I'm sorry posts are so few and far between. It's so hot and hard to function. I know I said the exact same thing to excuse minimal posts in winter but like. its literally hot as balls and all I got is a puny ass 8yro fan and the occasional sip of iced water.

Osamu Dazai ★

• Dazai likes to take your old T-shirts to sleep in when you lend them to him for the night. After a few nights of having Dazai at your house, you wonder why your sleep-shirt collection has nearly cut in half.

ೃ⁀➷

You unlocked the door of your apartment and pushed it open with your unoccupied hand. The other arm held a large brown paper bag filled with gas station food and snacks for you and your boyfriend, who followed you inside. Once you set the bag down on the coffee table, you retrieved your keys from the door and closed it. When you came back to the kitchen, Dazai had already dumped everything out and was sifting through all the options. "The walk back from the gas station was hardly five minutes and I've already forgotten everything we got." He says with a grin, opening a bag of chips and eating a couple. He offered you some, holding the bag out to you. "Want some?' He mumbled.

"Yeah, let me just change into pajamas first, I don't wanna do anything until I'm comfortable." You said, shrugging off your jacket and starting to undo your belt before you even make it back to your room. Dazai followed suit, bag of chips still in hand. "Can I borrow some?" You nodded before taking off your shirt and tossing it in the laundry hamper, going through your closet to find a shirt for your boyfriend and yourself. "Thank youuu~" He plops down onto your bed, keeping the chip bag upwards so he doesn't get any crumbs or dust on your nice blankets. He watches you pull one of your band shirts over your head, admiring your body from his position on your mattress. He's snapped out of his daze when black fabric comes flying at him, but he catches it before it can smack him in the face. "Thanks, babe, you're so kind."

He switches his work clothes for your old ones, the big shirt nearly swallowing his scrawny torso comfortably. "Alright, I want snacks, come on." You gesture for him to follow you back out to the kitchen where the array of snacks was waiting for the two of you on the counter. There were numerous kinds of chocolate, and Dazai had grabbed a couple bags of gummies for himself. There were a few more bags of chips for variety, and you scooped everything up in your arms to bring to the living room. You dropped them all on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. "Alright, what movie are we feeling?" You ask, turning to the brunette man. "Uhhhhh, how about an action movie. Somethin' that looks exciting." He says, slinging his arm over your shoulder while he munches on sour gummy worms. Eventually, the two of you decide on a Godzilla movie, slumped against the couch with chocolate residue on the tips of your fingers from your candies. Dazai let out a long sigh as the movie came to a close, leaning into you and resting his head on your shoulder.

You ran your fingers through Dazais messy and slightly greasy hair, scratching his scalp and listening to his pleased, quiet hum. "Are you falling asleep or are you up for another movie?" You ask him, watching the credits roll on the TV. "I'm up for another movie, I just think I might be having a sugar crash." He says, groaning as he sits back up. You nod and grab the remote again, browsing through all the film options. Every now and again, your eyes involuntarily flickered over to your boyfriend, and you couldnt help but smile. He looked really cute in your shirt, and it almost made you wanna treat the movie like chopped liver and cuddle up to him.

"You look really cute." You say, playing whatever movie you absent-mindedly started in your daze. "Oh, I know, right?" He grins running his hand over his body. "As a matter of fact, I've never felt sexier." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down with a smirk. You can't help but laugh at him. "Let's get you on a playboy cover." Before you know it, he's standing up in front of the TV. "Scrap the movie, you have me for entertainment instead." He puts his hands on his hips and strikes a pose, making you laugh some more. "You want some attention? I mean, I guess since you asked so politely." You stand up with an eye roll and pull him in, kissing him and running a hand down his side. He keeps one hand on your chin, tilting your head to meet his lips, sighing quietly each time your lips part for a quick moment. Soon, you both need more air then small gasps and have to pull away. He smiles and messes with the fabric of your own shirt. "How about we ditch this mess for now and go to bed, yeah? We can continue comfortably there?" He offers, You glance back over at the piles of snacks, opened or not, scattered acrossed the floor. Normally you'd make him help you clean up before doing anything else, but tonight you really couldn't be bothered and just wanted to follow Dazai wherever he'd take you. "Alright, let's go."

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Everyone knows that Chuuya adores his hat, but not everyone knows he's got a decently sized collection of fancy hats on top of his closet. One day while rummaging around and trying to find one of Chuuyas button downs for him, you notice them all on the top rack.

ೃ⁀➷

"Chuuya, you didn't tell me you had so many hats!" You called out to him, standing back and staring at them all. Chuuya was currently in the bathroom, shaving his peach fuzz to keep his smooth face. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I've got a ton." He calls back, washing the shaving cream off of his skin. "They're pretty..can I try some of 'em on?" You ask, reaching to grab the one on the top of the stack. "Go ahead." He walks out of the bathroom with his towel around his waist, leaning against the doorframe to watch the little fashion show you were about to put on. The first one you grabbed was adorned with flowers of various colors. You placed it on your head and turned around, posing with your hands on your hips.

"What do you think? Vogue worthy?" You ask him. He smiles at you and nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "One hundred percent, that's peak fashion." He says genuinely, standing up straight and walking over to the closet. He reaches up and grabs another hat for you to try, switching it out for the flowers one. This one is a dark, reddish brown color. "This one's cute too." You giggle and head over to the bathroom to see for yourself. "Ooo, I'm not sure this kinda hat is necessarily for me." You giggle. "What do you mean? It looks great on you!" He says, following you in and hugging you from behind. "You only say that because they're your hats." You say, grinning.

"I mean, I guess not everyone is destined to look good in them like me." He says, squeezing your hip. "I gotta actually get ready for work now, I'm probably runnin' late." He says, turning around and dropping his towel. He tossed it into the hamper before getting dressed in his usual attire, spotting the button down that you had forgotten about in favor of his hat collection. "Okayyyy." You yawn, stretching your arms over your head and treading through the bedroom to start your own morning routine. You didn't have to leave for another hour, but Chuuya had to get to work within the next 30 minutes. After brushing your teeth, you notice Chuuya searching the bedroom for his usual hat.

"The nightstand." You point out to him. He sees it and lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing it and plopping it on his head. "Thanks, doll. I gotta get going' now, but I'll see ya tonight, okay?" He says, pulling you in by your waist for his daily goodbye kiss. "Yeah, got it." You smile before kissing him sweetly for a quick moment before he backs away. "Alright, I love you, see ya later." He playfully smacks your ass before letting go of you and heading out to the door. "Bye Chuuya, I love you, I'll see you later!" Once you heard him leave, you smiled to yourself and headed right back to the closet. You didn't necessarily have to get dressed just yet, so that gave you some time to try on a couple more hats on your own.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor doesn't mind letting you borrow his cape if you seem cold, or he'll simply wrap it around you and pull you into his side. He prefers the latter, considering it doesn't take much for him to get chilly.

ೃ⁀➷

Fyodor held your gloved hand in his as you both walked down the snowy streets of Yokohama. It was the winter solstice and you both decided to take a walk down one of the most popular roads and do some window shopping. By the end of the evening, the hand that wasn't occupied with holding Fyodors held a warm cup of hot chocolate that you sipped on periodically. "Have you enjoyed yourself tonight, Myshka?" He asks you, adjusting his ushanka and gazing up at the sky, noticing some snow start to fall. "I did. Thanks for coming with me, I know you have a lot of stuff to do." You respond, bringing the cup to your lips for another sip. He waves his hand dismissively. "That doesn't mean I can't accompany you." His thumb rubs over your knuckles as snow starts landing on his hat and your head, the street lamps illuminating the darkness with a tangerine-colored glow. You nod at his words, leaning into his shoulder and shivering.

"It's so cold, Fedya." You say, your head on his shoulder and your hand squeezing his tightly. He lets go in order to put his arm around your waist, pulling his long cape over your shoulder. "I know, the walk home isn't much further, don't worry." You smile and hold onto the old, worn material to keep it in place. "You're right, thanks." You say, feeling butterflies in your stomach. It never mattered how long you and Fyodor had been together, every affectionate action made you feel like you had just got together. He held you close with his cape still shielding you from the cold and adding a layer of warmth to your jacket. He would peer over at you every now and again, laughing under his breath at all the snow that was getting into your hair. "What's so funny?" You ask him, a smile spread acrossed your face. "You've got a whole bunch of snow on your head." He tells you. "It looks like dandruff."

You roll your eyes and yank the ushanka off of his head, placing it on yours instead. "There, now you won't have to look at it." You hold the fluffy hat on top of your head and try to prevent him from taking it back when he tugs on it. "No, you can get your own, my ears are cold." He says with a smile, eventually pulling it back into his own possession and patting it off. "I will say though, you look better in my hat than Dazai did." You give a proud smirk and rest your head on his shoulder. "I'd hope you'd think so." Your street comes into view and you pull him along as you speed up, wanting to get into the warm, cozy house as soon as possible. "I know running isn't exactly your thing but pick up the pace a little, I wanna get under the covers and cuddle." You tell him, getting closer to home with each passing second.

He picks up speed for you and listens to the sound of your feet hitting the pavement. It's not long before you've pulled him all the way home and you're unlocking the door, nearly spilling inside to get into the warm living room. Fyodor follows suit, unlacing his shoes and hanging up his cape and ushanka. You wait for him in the open doorway that connects the living room and the hallway, ready to curl up in bed away from the harsh cold. "Alright, I'm coming." He says, treading through the hall with you and opening the bedroom door. His hand rested on your lower back as you both walked to the comfortable mattress, crawling under the covers and pulling each other close. "Your cape is really warm and comfortable. You should wrap me in it more often." You say, scooching closer to him and letting his arm drape over your waist.

"Hmm, I guess that wouldn't hurt. You really like it?" He peers down at you, his head propped up on his fist. "Yeah, I might have to steal it, actually." You say seriously, making him click his tongue. "You're welcome to steal it if I'm not wearing it." He says, chewing on the inside of his cheek habitually. "Then expect it to be off the hanger more often then not." He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, laying his head down on the pillow. "Okay, that's fine, but right now you have me and the blanket to keep you warm." He murmurs, closing his eyes. "Well you're not contributing to that as much as the blanket, but whatever you say." You kiss his cheek and brush his bangs out of his face. "G'night Fedya, I love you." You say, resting your head on his chest, ready for sleep. "I love you too, y/n, sleep well."

Nikolai Gogol ★

• You always loved Nikolais outfit and couldn't help but wanna put it in one day. You were sure he wouldn't mind, after all, sharing attire was nothing foreign to your relationship.

ೃ⁀➷

It started with you trying on his blouse for fun, but then you decided the blouse wasn't complete without the vest, pants, gloves, collar, shoes, or hat. Everything fit you a little differently than it fit Nikolai, but it didn't matter, because when you walked over to the nearest reflective surface, you found yourself cute, and you almost couldn't wait for Nikolai to get out of the shower to show him. You just needed one more thing, his cape. You ran out to the coat rack by the door and swung it behind you and then over your shoulders excitedly, grabbing it by the edges and moving it around. You felt really fancy with his cape, swaying your body just to feel the fabric move with you. As a matter of fact, you were so caught up in how good the cape made you feel that you didn't even realize the bathroom door open.

"Oh, wow, dove! My outfit looks so good on you! I've never noticed how much the red gloves pop until now." You turned around so fast, as if you were sitting in silence and all of a sudden a full file cabinet tipped over and crashed onto a linoleum floor. "Wah-! When'd you get out? I mean, thank you, but you scared me!" You say with a nervous laugh. "I thought it looked cute." You murmur, starting to pull off the gloves, but he stops you. "Hey, wait, you should stay in it for a moment, I'm not done admiring you yet!" He tells you, walking over and grabbing your hands gently. He leans in to kiss you, his smile palpable on his lips. You hand falls on his shoulder, rubbing it up and down affectionately before pulling away. "You really like it that much, huh?"

He nods. "Ofcourse! Oh, I'd love to show everyone how wonderful you look. Would you let me?" He asks, squeezing your hands tightly. "Sure, Kolya, go ahead." He quickly skitters off to fetch his cellphone, returning with the camera app already open. "Pose." He says, watching you place your hands on your waist and cock your hip a little bit. "Ah, gorgeous." He says, spamming the capture button. "Okay, I think that's enough." He says, his cheeks a bit pinker than before. He tossed his phone onto one of the side tables and embraced you once again, resting his head on top of yours. "Come on, y/n, I'd like to see you in my whole wardrobe now!" He says excitedly, pulling you along back to the bedroom. You don't necessarily know what you ignited in him, but it was certainly something, and now you were preparing yourself for a god-knows-how-long fashion show for your boyfriend. Not that you really minded, ofcourse.

A/n; another post that was supposed to have sigma and then didn't have sigma because I wanted to watch Jersey shore instead of write. ALSO I WENT TO THE DENTIST YESTERDAY terrible experience I cried but don't tell anyone I said that

[inuiiwonderland]

The locked away dragon

Your friends managed to convince you to go explore an abandoned tower with them. Legend goes that a dragon fae prince was locked away here in this tower to protect him from a war that was happening during his time. What happens when you lock eyes with bright green eyes during your exploration?

A/n: Omg Mari writing something that isn’t angst😱 lol I decided to give y’all a break (kidding I already have a angst draft ready😈)

Fem reader!

Fluff!

-

You walked down the dirt road as you dragged the stick that you found earlier on the ground as you listened to your friends bicker about something you don’t even care to remember.

“Yer so stupid ace! Whadya mean that the legend of the locked dragon is real?!”

“Excuse me?! I never said it was real! I was just telling the story since deuce didn’t know!”

“But you said it was true!”

“Yeah! To scare him!”

“Hey that didn’t scare me!”

“Oh really? You looked like you almost pissed yourself back there man!” You rolled your eyes as you poked Jack with the stick. He looked over his shoulder and chuckled seeing the bored expression on your face.

“How much longer do we have to walk? My feet are killing me!”

“We’re almost there! Just a little more walking!”

“You said that like 10 minutes ago you idiot”

“Do you even know where we’re going?”

“Huh? Of course I know! My brother was the one to give me the direction to that tower!” You scoff.

“Yeah you shouldn’t be trusting him all that much. For all we know he could’ve probably given you the wrong directions and we could be lost!”

“I know where we’re going! Just trust me”

“Yeah we’re totally lost”

“We are not!”

“Are too”

“Are not!”

“Are too”

“Are no-“

“Guys!” You both looked at jack and see him point somewhere behind you too.

“I think we’re here” Both you and ace then turn around and there, lo and behold there stood the tower from the legends.

“Great sevens…”

“It’s huge”

“Well whadya waiting for? Let’s go!” Epel runs to go inside as ace follows close behind. You threw your stick and follow the two as jack and deuce do the same.

The moment you walked inside you were all surprised to see that the place has been kept clean and well maintained. You worriedly glance back at ace who was walking around with his phone out. Already recording.

“Um ace, are you sure this place is abandon?”

“It looks to clean and well kept to even be abandon”

“Oh sevens don’t tell me we just trespassed on someone’s property”

“Don’t worry guys! My brother said that not many people were able to find this place over the years so that why it isn’t destroyed or anything yet”

“So only a few people knows that this place exists?”

“Pretty much”

“Okay then! Let’s all split up and explore this place”

“Split up? What are we? The mystery gang” Deuce and epel laughed as ace rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be upstairs. Don’t piss yourself deuce!” Deuce eyes widen as he starts cursing at ace which only makes him laugh harder. Everyone then goes their separate ways and you take out your phone to use as a flashlight to see better.

You walk around the tower and took pictures of anything that you found fascinating or cool. You wouldn’t lie, this tower was for sure the most beautiful place you have ever stepped foot in. As you walk around the place, you started thinking back about the legends.

Could a dragon fae prince really be here?

You chuckle at your childish thoughts and continue exploring. At some point you found yourself walking up some set of stairs and the more you went up the more cold the air felt. You were lucky that you brought your jacket with you.

While you were walking around you noticed a big door down the hall. Curiosity got the best of you and you soon started walking down the dimly lit hallway. As you got closer, chills went down your spine. You were starting to have second thoughts about whether or not you should open the door.

“Fuck it”

The moment you opened the door you immediately coughed as dust flew everywhere. You closed your eyes to prevent any dust from entering your eyes. Finally after what felt like forever, you opened your eyes to see nothing but pitch black.

“Seriously?” You raised your phone to get a better look with your flashlight but stopped once you saw bright green eyes looking directly at you.

You took a step back before screaming which caused the creature to panic and spit fire. You luckily managed to dodge the attack before running out the area without looking back.

You could hear your heart beating in your ears as you quickly ran down the steps.

“Shit shit shit!” You say as you began to run even faster. Your scream alerted your friends and you were sure they were already downstairs waiting for you.

You ran down the steps as your heart continued pounding against your chest.

What the fuck was that?

“Y/n!” Deuce yells. The rest of the group ran up to you but you shook your head and waved your hands, signaling them to leave.

“Out! Out we need to get out of here!”

“Wh-“ A loud roar rung through the towers hall and everyone hearts dropped at that moment.

“Everyone out!” In an instant, everyone ran out the exit. No one dared to say anything as their main goal at that moment was to be as far away as possible from the tower.

After what felt like hours of running, you all slowly start slowing down as you tried to catch your breathes.

“W-wh..what was that?!” Deuce was the first one to speak up. Still trying to get his breathing under control.

“It sounded...like a roar!”

“Yeah no shit! But what kind of animal lets out a roar that can shake a whole 400 year old tower!!?”

“How am I supposed to know?!” You roll your eyes as you sit down on a log. You burry your face in your hands as you try to process what you saw just moments ago.

“Y/n”

“Mm?” Voice muffled by your hands.

“What did you see?” You stayed quiet before you finally looked up to see them all staring at you.

“I think I’m going insane”

-

A month has passed since that incident. You told them what you saw but laughed it off as some sort of joke.

The whole way home you and the rest blamed ace for what happened back at the tower. The poor boy was fighting for his life trying to defend himself as he didn’t even know that something like that would happen.

The 5 of you took a break from urban exploring for the next week or so. Still spooked from the incident.

But…

A part of you is curious about the creature that you saw that day.

Those green eyes haunts in your dreams and you can’t seem to stop thinking about it every time you try to go to sleep.

It was like an itch. You couldn’t seem to get rid of it. And you know it might sound crazy but a part of you wants to go back.

To see that what you saw that day wasn’t just your imagination.

So maybe that’s what brought you here tonight. You stood in front of the old tower as you pointed your flashlight towards it.

“This is stupid” You say to no one in particular. You huff before walking in.

It looked just like how it did a month ago.

Clean and well kept

You quietly walked around while also trying to avoid making any noise. You went up the same stairs you took last time and hoped to the great sevens that you don’t die tonight.

“This is so stupid why did I come back” You whisper to yourself as you walk down the same hall you walked last time.

After what felt like forever, you finally found the door that you last saw the creature in.

Here goes nothing

The moment you open the door you were prepare to meet the same green eyes from last time.

But what you saw was pure darkness

You shined your flashlight inside the room but again saw nothing.

Ha

HAHAHAHAHA

“Oh sevens…so it was my imagination after all” You chuckle as you slap your hand on your face.

Now I have to come up with an excuse on why I snuck out

You groan at the thought of what’s waiting for you tomorrow morning when your parents go through the security footage.

“I should’ve just stayed home” You say as you close the door. You sign as you rub your face in your hands, tired from the walk here and also disappointment.

But as you continue to curse and call yourself stupid, you notice a weird smell.

It almost smells like…smoke?

Wait

SMOKE?

and its almost like it’s coming from behind you.

You immediately turn around to only be met with those captivating eyes that you saw last time.

You scream

The creature looks almost…panicked? When you screamed and backed away while shaking its head.

After what felt like forever, you stopped screaming. You and what you now know is a dragon stare each other down as silence filled the air.

“Soooo”

You were the one to break the silence

“The legends are true” The dragon only tilts its head. Seeming confused by what you said and you couldn’t help but giggle at that action.

“You’re so cute! How long have you been living here? Oh wait! I haven’t even introduced myself yet! How rude of me” The dragon just listens as you now go on a full rant about your interests, hobbies, how you and your friends love exploring abandoned ruins and how you and your group ended up here in the first place.

He seemed to not mind about your long rant as it happily listened to whatever came out of your mouth. After some time though, you started feeling a little sleepy. So with a yawn, you wish the dragon good night before getting knocked out cold.

-

You woke up to the sound of someone’s breathing. Your brows furrowed as you slowly began to open your eyes.

You didn’t know what to expect to see so early in the morning but it definitely wasn’t a grown man watching you sleep.

You scream

“W-what?! Who are you and what have you done to my dragon?!” You shout. Backing up against the wall as the man in front raises his hand in surrender.

“There’s no need to panic! It’s me! Dragon!”

“W-what” Now that you take a good look at him. The resemblance between the man and the dragon was clear.

He had long black hair, two black horns, and….

Those green eyes

“D-dragon? You…”

How? How is that possible?

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is malleus draconia”

“I’m the locked away fae prince from the legend that you told me about last night” He says with a smile.

Oh

Well now you have a clingy dragon fae prince stuck to you🤍

-

This was sitting in my drafts for like a year now🫠 so I decided to finish it today because I really like it!

[luveline]

maybe could I ask for miguel seeing spider girl with a bruise on her face and getting protective (when in reality it was just over something dumb) thank youuuu <3

ty for requesting! Finding his Spider-Girl is never easy. He’ll assume you’re wearing your watch and find it forgotten in his room, or under a chair in the cafeteria, or twitching and loosing smoke at the bottom of a garbage can, nowhere near your actual location. 

Today, he checks all your usual haunts and decides he might break up with you if you don’t start leaving him clues as to where to find you. Not that’s he’s your boyfriend (of course he’s your boyfriend), but he’d put an end to your… relationship, should he have to. 

He’s getting annoyed at his own thoughts and, by extension, you, when he finally finds you lying casually across a couch in a common area otherwise abandoned. You’ve projected your phone game onto the ceiling, music leaking from the cans of your headphones, with your socked feet dangling over an armrest, a drinks bottle by your head.

“Where are your shoes?” he asks loudly. 

You glance his way. “Hi, Miguel.” 

“Are you walking around without shoes?” He bends one way and another looking for them. They’re on their sides under the coffee table among a legion of dust bunnies. 

“What?” 

“I said–” He hates playing this game. “Take the headphones off, and then we’ll talk to each other.” 

“I’m gonna take my headphones off,” you say. 

He rolls his eyes. You stop projecting your phone, snapping it closed on your chest and struggling up into a sitting position, legs retrieved from over the armrest and crossed beneath you as your headphones slip around your neck. You’re in sportswear with a jacket too big for you over your shoulders, cute cargo pants he adores and potentially would love to take off of you, and he’s so busy noticing your uncharacteristic outfit that he misses the huge bruise on your face, the yellow, red and purple like a stain under your eye 

He has amazing vision. “What happened?” he asks, practically diving for you, bending down to take your unbruised cheek into his hand. “Who did that to you?” 

You haven’t been on a strike mission in weeks, and your combat training is all but done. 

Someone laid their hands on you. 

Miguel goes into a fugue. “Sweetheart,” he says, his voice flat, almost cold, “who hit you?” 

“Miguel, I’m a superhero–”

“I don’t remember the last time you went home,” he says, immediately brushing this possibility away. You don’t fight crime in your dimension, Spider-Girl a poorly received vigilante. “You haven’t been in training, I didn’t send you on the strike this morning because you didn’t want to go.” He touched you with extreme care, thumb barely pressed to your skin, but he talks with precision. “So I’ll ask again. Who hit you, cariño?” 

“Miguel,” you laugh, pushing his hand off of your face to wrap your arms around his neck. He covers your back instinctively. “I’m fine, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting all macho.” 

“You aren’t answering my question.” 

“Oh my gosh.” You cling to him. He could stand up at full height and be sure you’d come up with him. He’d quite enjoy that, to his secret pleasure, you with your legs wrapped around his hips. You don’t like being carried is the kicker. “Miguel, I hit myself. My hand got caught when I was taking the suit off and I hit myself in the eye, it’s fine.” 

Your back is soft. His hand less so as he rubs your back in surprised, short lines, up and down and up again. “Idiot,” he says, his voice turning to rasp at such a low volume. 

It must hurt, even if you did it to yourself. Miguel peels you away from his neck and stations you gently on the couch. “I’ll take you to the medbay,” he promises, giving your shoulder a little push. “What’s wrong with you? You hit yourself? You’re like a kid.” 

“I am not! It happens to everybody.” 

“Never happens to me.” 

“You cheat. Your suit flashes on and off.”

“It does not.” Miguel decides he is going to carry you whether you like it or not. You aren’t wearing shoes —he doesn’t need you getting any more injured. “Alright, hold on to your phone, my brat.” 

“Your what?” you laugh, though any humour you hold is lost when Miguel grabs you up with ease and cradles your full grown body to his chest in a princess carry, “Miguel! Stop, put me down! You know I hate this.” 

“You might hurt yourself again. I’m taking necessary precautions.” 

You sigh and drop your face into his shoulder. “Well, I guess I’ll allow it. You got so, so mad thinking somebody hit me, I think you deserve to carry me around like a large cantaloupe.” You draw a heart into the base of his neck. “Will you grab my shoes?” 

“I’ll circle back.” 

“Thank you. How’d you even find me? I was hoping I’d be healed the next time we saw one another.”

“At bedtime, you mean?” 

He resists the urge to kiss your cheek, or tell you how he’d found you (mindless combing of the building, seduction of your most likely location, and dumb luck). You don’t need the ammunition. 

[shotmrmiller]

The cool air that sweeps over your skin once you board the train feels like a gentle splash of water on a sweltering summer day. The sudden temperature change sends a shiver down your sweat-slick back, the hair on your arms standing on end in sharp relief. You press a hand to your chest, feeling the drumming of your heart against it.

You almost hadn't made it.

Everything had gone awry from the moment your alarm went off. First, you'd snoozed the clock. Half an hour later, your eyes snapped open, the horizon that'd just started to blush with the first hint of dawn giving way to a vibrant, limpid morning blue.

Shit.

You had called a cab while you were hastily getting ready, brushing your teeth, washing your face, only for it to arrive within 5 minutes. Five.

With the honking outside, you quickly threw on the first piece of clothing you found.

As you sat in the car, deliberately ignoring the driver's heated glare through the rearview mirror, you'd patted down your crinkled dress before crossing your legs, and realized—

You've got no knickers on. Double shit.

Whatever. It'll be fine. You were taking an overnight train across the country and even got yourself a private little room to sleep in. All would be well. But you had to get there first and boarding would start in 15 minutes.

Navigating through the aimless crowd of people had been excruciating. Children weaving in and out coupled with elderly folk stopping to chat up their friends with zero regard for foot traffic. Agony.

(You're fully aware that no one is at fault here but yourself.)

Almost hadn't made it but almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

Your heartbeat's still pounding in your ears as you walk down the narrow aisle, arms burning with the weight of your luggage bag and the tote slung around your shoulder. The thought of settling into your cabin and finally taking a breather propels you forward, albeit sluggishly.

The metronomic clatter of the wheels on the tracks smothers that burning sense of urgency you've felt since you woke. Weariness seeps into your bones once your cabin door comes into view. There's no other thought in your head apart from putting your stuff away and getting off your feet as you fumble for the handle.

In your fatigued haze, you hadn't noticed someone already inside. The world, once fuzzy around the edges, sharpens to cutting clarity in your shock. He's a big man. Very big. He looks like he's been carved out of oak— broad and solid. His shoulders are wide, stretching the seams of his shirt. His thick arms are draped along the backrest of the seat. The breadth of his chest— should, probably does— defies anatomy.

He's got legs like tree trunks. And they're sprawled outward, taking up a lot, if not most of the room. There's a bag resting against your seat even though the overhead space is empty. A bulky, grey jacket lays about.

You're tired, not blind. This is definitely the cabin you paid for with your measly income. But you're scared witless at the mere thought of trying to kick him out. He'll eat you. Gnaw your bones with his molars to dust for the offense.

You tug on the ends of the knot that is lodged in your throat, hoping to get some words out, but it only seems to tighten. The man's keen eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. Heavy with a weight that presses down on your back, your shoulders. Even the air itself.

The gentle click of the sliding door shutting behind you has your heart trying to crawl out of your mouth. (Possibly your arse, too, but you're not sure of anything right now, other than you're about to burst into tears because his gaze followed the motions of you shakily hoisting your bag up higher on your shoulder.)

His voice is a deep rumble— rich and resounding. You swear you could feel the air vibrate as he spoke.

"Sit down 'fore ya hurt yourself." It startles you into action, like a starter's pistol before a swim race. Quickly rising to the tips of your toes, you put your luggage bag away, giving it a couple of smacks to push it all the way back.

You mumble out a garbled 'scuse me as you traipse past his outstretched legs, carefully stepping over them, only to brush against his knee. You flinch, he doesn't.

"Sorry." Heat blooms beneath your cheeks. Embarrassing. You shove your tote into a little corner, its humble size dwarfed by his frame. With trembling fingers, you pull the back of your—very thin, now that you think about it— dress down, trying to compose yourself, before taking a seat.

Directly in front of him.

And he's still staring. Vaguely, you wonder if he can see your fluttering pulse beneath the delicate skin of your neck.

There's a lot of people on the train. That unbearably long line you had to stand in to board it was the proof. Yet it's unnervingly silent. Not one distant tinkle of laughter. No gentle hum of murmured conversation. Clinking of spoons against coffee cups.

Just a sharp, high-pitched whistle of the wind outside the window. Even he isn't making a sound. No rustling of clothes, no shifting around. Motionless.

You nervously grab at the skirt of your dress, clammy fingers curling, fabric bunching within your tightened fist, white staining your knuckles. The hem of your dress is frayed, like your nerves at this moment.

Oh no.

You flash your eyes to the guy's face but he's no longer paying attention to you. He's now looking straight at the apex of your legs. Your very naked apex. Amusement dances across his rugged features. His ash-blonde eyebrows quirking slightly, corner of his thin-lipped mouth curling.

The room tilts slightly, a dizzying sensation that leaves you momentarily unbalanced. Mortification pricks at your nerves, gathers in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill. An ear-grating squeak escapes past your clenched teeth as you jerkily tug down the skirt, the hem settling against your shins.

A tiny hiccup punctuates the moment.

His mud-caked boot taps the outside of your foot, demanding your attention. "Now, now. Nothin' to be ashamed of, birdy," he grunts. Then, with casual ease, he slides it in between yours, this time nudging the inside of them.

A recognizable gesture.

Open up.

(there's no getting a staff member to remove him. they're all half his size. and can he at least shut the blinds on the window????)

[rainylana]

Relationship headcanons w/Eddie

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: just a few head canons! just one warning for a mention of vomiting.

• i think there’s a random couch that is out in his yard that gets rained on and moldy, but he just keeps it outside to sit on it. it’s covered in cat and dog hair. it’s been there since he can remember. you both sit out on it a lot and watch the sunset, even though there’s perfectly good chairs on the porch for you to sit on. 

• pays for everything even though he doesn’t have the money for it. he works himself to the bone when he’s not in school just so he has the money to take you out. you always offer to pay, but he never lets you.

• gives the back of your neck little squeezes<3 especially when he can tell that you’re anxious and don’t want to talk about it.

• reads to you when you’re sick. he loves to coddle you, borderline baby you, when you don’t feel like getting out of bed. he’ll spoon feed you soup and make you tea. he’ll always hold your hair for you when you get sick to your stomach!

• holds the door open for you no matter where you go. he’s always a gentleman, despite what everyone says about him. also pulls out your chair for you at restaurants, school and even hellfire. he doesn’t care if the guys tease him. you’re his queen.

• when it’s allergy season he keeps tissues in his jacket pocket at the ready for when you need them.

• the first time you cried he realized that he was in love with you. watching you become so upset had made his heart ache.

• you have to wake him up for school because he can’t wake up to his alarm. it doesn’t matter how loud it is, he will NOT wake up. wayne was so happy when you moved in because he was sick and tired of hearing eddie’s alarm go off for ten minutes before he eventually got up to wake his nephew up.

• doesn’t like shopping, but will go to the antique store or goodwill with you to look for old jewelry. he bought some combat boots there once that he was really happy about:) he modeled them for you in the dust aisles of the store.

• made you a ring out of a spoon. he found an article in a magazine on how to make one. he engraved his initials on it<3 got into the habit and started making them for his friends at hellfire.

• enjoys watching scary movies with you because of the way you hide your face in his chest.

• you have to make him eat vegetables because he refuses to. you have to basically feed him. he throws such a fit. if it wasn’t for you, he’d live off nothing but junk food.

[neonovember]

Hello! I hope you’ve been doing okay! I saw that you had requests open and I also saw that you take requests for Carmen? If it’s totally okay of course to request for him! I got into the bear a few days ago and my brain has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Carmy. Would it be okay just requesting something that’s just Carmen being worried/concerned about the reader? He just always sees whenever there’s that tiredness to them when it looks like it’s a bad day, that slump in their shoulders that all too much reminds him of him a little sometimes, just bringing them into the office and his eyebrows are furrowed with that look of concern and his eyes the same, maybe unexpectedly just wrapping them in a hug (Your writing is so cute btw!) 💕

to carry and to bear

ask, it will be my infinite quest to fulfill! love this request so much and i loved writing is even more. i'm going to be so annoying when s2 comes out, especially since i love carmen's character so much! thank you for your request anon &lt;3

carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: richie (yes he’s a warning), unresolved anxiety, horrible customers, fainting

word count: 5k (short for me lmao)

a/n: you know i love a character when i'm completing fics in under a day..lets pray this momentum keeps going

Wrapping yourself tight against the chilly wind of the unforgivable Chicago weather, you watch the city coming alive in the early morning as you walk down the concrete sidewalk of the Beef’s city corner.

Merchants and gazebo have begun to set up shop, their bright red vendor stands a stark contrast to the grey haze of the windy city. Corner stores and cafes have begun to uncover their blinds, dusting away the sliver of droplets that had long since evaporated after a heavy downpour the night before.

it’s slow though.

The mass of cars and yellow cabbed taxis haven’t yet filled the gravel roads, and the surging rush of traffic and uncontrollable road rage the beef windows have been accustomed to viewing hasn't filled the air.

The pinch of cold begins to itch against the cracks in your outerwear. Your trusted winter jacket and gloves had been left at the bottom of your laundry basket and instead you were forced to throw on a flimsy polyester jacket that provided absolutely no warmth. 

Your fingers are stuffed into your pocket, trying to hide them from the cold but it is no use. They shake against the freezing air of wind as you push past huddles of men chain smoking and passing coolers of steaming coffee on street corners.

You’re about to go ask for a cup, despite Carmen's disgruntled comments of their huddled group festering near the restaurant. They were a pack of wolves, and whilst Sydney's sandwiches had fended them off for a while, the hole in the Beef’s window was still fresh. Like a cycle, more and more had begun to trickle in from alleyways, leading to customers steering clear from the nearby streets. 

Carmen didn’t even like you walking to work this early, you get it, despite being daylight, Chicago had a way of defying social norms. You had paid some attention to the increase in robbing and attacks that had begun to frequent news reports.

It wouldn't have been a problem, walking was always voluntary for you as you had a perfectly fine working car that would drive you to and from your destination with as little as a rumble from its engine. And yet, that seemingly perfect car decided to break down on you this morning, leading to an overheated engine and a smoke filled hood.

So not only did you have to pay for a towing truck to drag away your car to an auto shop you couldn't afford to afford, but you were late. And you hated being late.

Not to mention your sister had called you late last night, asking to stay for a couple nights after her good for nothing boy-friend you would rather call a child had kicked her out after a fight.

She had rambled for nothing short of 2 hours after you had gotten home from the Beef late last night, and the pull of sleep had begun to weigh on you. The exhaustion and deprivation had written itself in the slug of your limbs and the slump of your shoulders.

You had to come in today, there were no rest days even if the Beef wasn't neck deep in debt and Cicero didn't have you all on a leash. Especially if you wouldn't allow yourself one. You had that in common with Carmen, you frequently ignored your own needs for your craft, the same insatiable passion and need for perfection driving you to exhaustion. 

The familiar chime of the Beefs wooden doors hit your ears, and you shake off the cold of the city streets, the Beef is warm and you're grateful, sighing as the heat of prepped ovens and oiled pans defrosts your face. 

It takes a second before you walk into the busy kitchen when the sound finally reaches you. The screeching sound of Richie's voice bickers with Tina about the next door convenient store being turned into a “pretentious hipster coffee shop that is legally selling dog water to unassuming Chicagoans”.

Dragging on and on about the invasion of gentrification that will soon take out all the good businesses that had been around since his grandfather had come from Sicily. Richie was not from Siciliy. In which Carmen mirrors your thoughts and yells that he is not Italian, and his obsession with the European country has been bordering on creepy.

Ebra is reciting an article about a culinary student that had gone rogue and murdered their entire class, giving pointers on how he himself had to patch up an entire unit of people stabbed by a bent corkscrew. The loud conversations and untethered yelling across the kitchen combines with the malfunctioning arcade that has begun to re-circuit the same sentence for 20 minutes now, digs a deep burrow into your temple.

You stand at the entrance of the kitchen, watching the commotion of early morning prep with a tight grimace, your head begins to vibrate a little, the start of a headache you won’t be relieved from spreading and you have to swallow down the exhaustion that begins to seep in at the sight. 

Sydney brushes past you, greeting you with a hello and one of her charming smiles before muttering about throwing that arcade machine out the back. You giggle and it hurts, but you do it anyway because, fuck, you would help her.

You step into the kitchen, and the crew each turn to greet you good morning as you walk past them into the locker bay stuffing your bag and shoes into the cabinet before quickly changing. 

Your phone reads 7am and you stuff it into the pocket of your hung jacket before slamming the locker shut. Carmen peeks his head around the corner, nodding at you as you put on your non-slip shoes, calling your name when you don't notice, you flinch before peering up and Carmen waves trying to get your attention.

“Mornin’ chef, didn’t think you were coming in” Carmen remarks, raising his eyebrows as he leans his shoulder against the wall. 

“Morning, yeah, sorry about that, uh- shit happened and I had to deal with it all at once. Won;t happen again” You reply, biting back a yawn, before letting your feet fall to the ground.

“It’s all good,” Carmen replies, nodding, wiping his hand on the white towel hanging on his shoulder that was already smudged with stains.

“Just shoot me a text or call next time, yeah?” Carmen replies 

“Will do chef” You reply, smiling, before peering out to see Sydney carrying a basket of  ingredients

“New recipe?” You ask, nodding towards Sydney, and Carmen nods, running a hand through his curls as he leans forward.

“Well call it trying something. Not yet finished, just needs some minor tweaks here and there” Carmen replies

“I can help Sydney out if you want?” You reply without a second thought.

You already had prep and a marinade you had to make for Cicero’s function he had conveniently told Carmen about the night before, but helping out was second nature to you, it was a part of this family's culture.

Carmen shakes his head, his eyes falling to your slumped shoulder, and the slow but tight blinks you tended to do when you were exhausted.

The second he had peered his head around the corner and saw the slug of your limbs he knew something was up, but he also knew he couldn't force you to relax, you were worse than him, always taking on so much, filling up your cup until it was overflowing.

“No, no, it’s alright, besides, that marinade isn’t going to be easy, I should be asking if you want me to help out” Carmen replies, chuckling, scratching his neck as you curve your mouth into that smile he loves so much. You could be half-dead and he still stares at you like you were the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen.

“I think I’ve got it handled. I remember having to make something similar back at Le Bleu, you just got to get the temperature right or the entire thing gets spoiled. Having more than one person just makes it more confusing. besides, don't you have that meeting with the vendor today?” You reply, and Carmen sighs, nodding

“Yep, hopefully this place looks stable enough to get him to sign, you know I can’t deal with corporate bullshit. Sydney should’ve met up with them, fuck any one other than me” Carmen replies, shaking his head as he fidgets with the hem of his apron.

Despite his numerous accolades, and world renowned talent, he only ever felt at nature in the kitchen. High function parties and elusive dinner bars were things he despised, feeling out of place despite it being thrown in his name.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, you're the face of this place Carmen, you’ve transformed it, you oughta show them the Beef is the best investment they’ll make. Hell you’re the best investment they can make” You reply, and Carmen ears perk at your reply, smiling fondly at your comment. He didn't deserve your praise, and he hated the way the sound of your lips curving around his name shoots through him.

“Are y'all going to get to work or continue eye fucking?” Richie calls, as he passes by the locker bay, and Carmen immediately shakes his head muttering a fuck you before nodding to you, and heading back to his station. You get up from your seated position on the bench, dusting and ironing out the creases in your apron before mentally going over the things you had to complete before opening.

Prep vegetables, then start the veal stock for Cicero's marinade. You had to complete it early, since it had to be chilled for at least 5 hours, any less and the fat would congeal and turn into a complete mess you didn’t have time to fix.

You walk towards your station, stepping over sauce that had spilled onto the tile floors, this crew was amazing in their craft, but god were they messy. You bump shoulders with Sydney as you begin to grate and cut root vegetables and herbs, you have to force your eyes open, blinking several times before dipping your hand into an ice water bucket and wiping your face with it.

Sydney converses with you, and it wasn't that she was boring, in fact you both frequently spend time even out of the restaurant as friends. But you can’t even try to decipher what she says, just sounds coming out of her mouth that you pack away in order to get your job done. 

Just cut the vegetables, finish the stock, cut the vegetables, finish the stock, you repeat it like a mantra in your head, unaware at Sydney calling your name. She reaches forward, pressing a soft hand to your shoulder to get your attention.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Sydney replies, concern written across her features as she peers at your disoriented state.

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” You reply, avoiding her gaze. You feel her penetrate through you, pitying the exhaustion on your face, probably realising you were a shit chef who couldn't even handle a couple responsibilities.

“I was asking if you could grab me some of the sauce I made yesterday from the storage fridge. You alright? You seem a bit..” Sydney starts, before you cut her off quickly

“Just had a long night, didn't get much sleep” You reply, rubbing your eyes with a hand. What has gotten into you? You weren't foreign to a few sleepless nights and a few too many deadlines you had to meet, hell your entire college and culinary life had been exactly that.

“That’ll kill you, you know” Richie butts in, reaching for a crab cake Sydney had prepared before being swatted away with a wooden spoon.

“What?” You ask, already regretting asking Richie to elaborate on what was clearly some elaborated story he had got stored away

“Go without that good old shut eye a few nights too long and you'll start hallucinating shit, not fucking with you you, don’t you know about the Russian sleep experiment-?” Richie rambles

“Ah here we go” Sydney replies, rolling her eyes 

“You think because you went to Paris or whatever prestigious tight ass school you know everything? It’s real, happened right after World War 2, Russians got a bunch of people and just made them not sleep for like months, they starting turning into fuckin' aliens and shit-” Richie continues, ignoring Sydney's sly remarks about Richie's facebook usage.

“Richie c’mon, you know that shits made up” You reply

“Don’t matter, didn’t I tell you about my week long bender during college? Starting seeing my great aunt from the corner of my eye, and I swear she is still there-” Richie replies before getting cut off my Carmen calling his name

“Stop distracting my chefs Cousin” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as Richie mutters about the fall of democracy and wipe your hands across your towel.

“I’ll go get your sauce Syd” You reply, and she smiles in gratitude as you turn towards the storage room. The cold air of the fridge wakes you up a little, and you rest your head against the door of the storage fridge, sighing in frustration. Talking to Richie was exhausting in itself, and when you were already running only fumes and second hand smoke you felt like it took the last bit of energy you had left.

You grab the container of sauce written with “DO NOT TOUCH” on its front, it's wrapped in cling film, with no lid and you're careful not to drop it everywhere. It wasn’t heavy, per se, just filled to the brim and without careful steps it was close to tipping out. You walk out of the storage room carefully, before turning towards your station.

“Corner!” You yell, twisting around the corner of the kitchen, before you slam straight into a tall body, jerking back and inadvertently spilling the sauce all across the kitchen floor and onto your shoes. You feel it sink into your socks and drip down your apron, eye twitching in frustration as Marcus starts apologising profusely, you ignore him, dropping down to your knees and reaching for paper towels. You start wiping away the sauce, as Marcus drops down to your level and tries to help, you shake our head looking up at him.

“Stop, Marcus, just stop. I can do it” You reply

“But-” Marcus protests

“We don't need two chefs to clean up a one person job, alright? You need to finish prep” You reply, letting the towels soak up the sauce. You grieve for Sydney, not all of it had spilt, but a quarter of a container wasn’t enough to get through the morning rush, let alone the entire day.

You ignore the spilt sauce all over your clothes, you didn’t have time to change now, rushing back to your station before telling Sydney about the spill

“You serious? I thought I could leave early today, got a friend's birthday” Sydney replies, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You instantly feel guilty, you should've been more careful, and now Sydney would have to pay for it.

“Hey, I got it, let me take that new recipe off your plate. That gives you enough time to get to the party?” You reply

Sydney looks up, rising her eyebrows “No, no I couldn’t possibly ask you to” 

“Nonsense, I owe you anyway, remember when I had to leave halfway through the morning to get my sister?” You reply, with a tired smile before Sydney wraps her arms around you, you rub a hand across her back. You can’t really feel her arms around you, it’s like all your senses are delayed, you ignore it as you get back to work, now with another task on your plate.

You finish chopping the vegetables after a short while, usually you were the fastest in the house, but today you lagged behind, finally carrying the vegetables to Carmen who looked at you strange, his eyes staring through you, he swallowed like he was going to say something as you walked away, before stopping and continuing stirring the stock on the stove

By the time the Beef opens, you're still elbow deep in work, you've stayed silent most of the time, waving off Marcus’s apology and instead working, not stopping since you started. You skipped breakfast, and you hadn't gotten a chance to eat, and just when you're about to make yourself something, Richie calls your name from the front counter.

You walk towards the front of the Beef, wiping stains on your apron to look a little presentable to the outside world. Richie stands at the register, flicking a pen in his hand, a look of annoyance on his face.

“What's up?” You ask Richie, as a tall man dressed down in a polo sweater and khakis stares down at you in anger. He’s familiar, someone you had served when Richie had to take his smoke break, and he scrutinises you as you smile at him.

That’s the only way you could communicate with these people, any hint of anger and you’d be written of as angry and unable to control your emotions, you lost your last job because you defended yourself anyway.

“This guy said he came in and you made him something he apparently didn't like, but finished anyway” Richie replies, a knowing look passes between you both and you sigh, you don't have time for this. 

“Morning Sir, May I ask what’s the problem” You ask politely

“You suggested to me a dish from the menu, alright, YOU, not me, so don't go blaming me for this, and look what I got, not only does it have nuts, which i hate, it's spicy. Way too spicy, I want a refund, NOW” The man replies, seething, his yelling catches the attention of other patrons, and Richie begins to reach under the table for a bat.

“Well, you finished it all so I don’t know what you-” You begin before the man cuts you off loudly

“Do you think I give a shift what you think? Huh? Jesus fucking Christ, see you just need to do what I fucking say, not argue. Give me a refund before I get you fired from this shit hole you dumb stupid-” The man yells, loudly before Carmen's booming voice cuts him off

“I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you” Carmen replies, clenching his jaw in way that told you he was trying to hold back the rage from spilling out

“Who the fuck are you?” The man asks

“I own this shit hole you piece of shit, and if you don't get the fuck out of my restaurant I'm going to break every single bone in your face with my bare hands". 

“Excuse me?”

Carmen laughs, shaking his head before smiling at the man

“I told you”

Carmen drags the man by his collar, throwing him onto the sidewalk and dragging his body to the alleyway, you fear what he is going to do and Richie raises his eyebrows in astonishment.

“Well shit cousin, you ain't a pussy after all” Richie mutters under his breath

You can faintly hear the sound of splitting skin and the crack of bone, before Carmen storms back into the restaurant, eyeing all the patrons who are following his every move.

“Y'all got that? Anyone mess with my people hear and your walk out on a fucking stretcher” Carmen replies still seething with anger, before Richie claps loudly as Carmen walks back behind the desk.

“Call a fucking ambulance” Carmen replies, rolling his eyes at Richie before he walks towards you, the the tension immediately leaving him as he find your safe and away from that man.

“You alright? He didn't hurt you or anything?” Carmen asks in concern, his eyes darting across your body to see any imagined injuries

“It seems you should be asking him that question” You reply, nudging towards the alley of the Bear, chuckling as you shake your head.

“You didn't have to do that you know, iIcould have-” You start

Carmen looks down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places his hand on you shoulder

“Could've what? He was screaming in your face and I wasn't about to let him think that shit was okay, god, how could you not react?” Carmen replies, looking down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m just so busy, I still- Fuck, i still got to get Cicero's marinade in the fridge, and i need to start on Syd’s broth” You mutter pressing your fingertips to your temples.

“What? You’re doing Sydney’s load as well? Hey, you need to sit down a second” Carmen replies, as you begin to walk back towards the kitchen, with Carmen hot on your heels, asking you to stop and turn to him.

You hear him call your name, but the mountain of tasks that were now even later due to that customer had begun to seize your consciousness.

All you could focus on was the dishes you needed to make and the pain in your temples that had begun to spread down, your vision getting fuzzy around the edges as you try and shake yourself awake.

“Dammit, listen to me! Stop cutting fucking vegetables and listen to me” Carmen yells at you for the first time, twisting your body to face him and you spit out in anger

“What?!” 

“What’s gotten into you today?” Carmen replies, yelling

And you don't know why, but that question breaks something in you, and you can't help but let out a short chuckle. Carmen looks down at you in horror, trying to reach for you, to catch you when the inevitable happens and you look at him once before it does.

Before your vision begins to blur and the edges begin to burn like a flame, you try and catch yourself, but it’s too late and you fall into Carmen's arms, wrapped up against his chest as you crash.

Carmen gathers you in his arms, his heart breaking beneath his breasts, holding his sweet girl in his arms as the streams of tears dampen his shirt. The rest of the crew watch on in concern, and Carmen shoes them away as he carries your unconscious body to the office.

“What the fuck Cousin?” Richie calls

“Hey, hey, is she alright? What -what happened?” Sydney replies in horror as she watches Carmen carry you from the kitchen. 

“What happened was, ya'll did fuck all when she was practically breaking down trying to finish everyone else's fucking mess. What happened? Are you fucking serious? If i wasn't there, she would’ve fainted into a burning skillet of your fucking vegetables Sydney” Carmen replies, shaking his head, the entire crew goes silent, the only sounds coming from the beeps of ovens and stove tops, and the sizzling of burning food.

Carmen goes quiet, as he assesses your state, there is something unwritten in the way he holds you, and he blinks tight, his face twitching a little as if he had to make sure you were in his arms, the only place he wanted you to be.

“Get back to work” Carmen replies, quietly, a stark contrast to his rage from before, the crew has never seen him like this, his eyes and focus on you, as if he has been seized by this responsibility and dying need to protect you. He can hardly breathe, his arms shaking as he stares down at your sullen and tired face.

“We need-” Marcus starts before Carmen shakes his head

“No, no, enough. Sydney will hold down the fort, this is my responsibility. Get. back to work.” Carmen replies

—-

Carmen wastes no time to gently place your body onto the scuffed office couch, pressing a hand to your head, before reaching for an ice cold container of water, dipping a towel into it before gently pressing it to your forehead.

Carmen shakes his head in anger, he should've seen this coming, he should've noticed from the slump of your shoulder and your one word answers that you were stretching yourself too thin.

Carmen tortures himself as he replays the moments before you fainted into his arms. The way your features twisted into a sob, and the lasts shred of resolve snapped, and you had reached for him, you had reached for him.

You had reached for Carmen when you fell, and something in him broke when he had caught you.

Carmen had been used to his own self-destruction, but as he rested his thumb, rubbing circles and wiping away the tears on your face, he wished himself to change, not just for him, but for you. How could he? How could you be such a poor example to you? This was his own fault, and the reality of that conclusion twists like a knife to his gut.

His sweet girl, his Sunshine, who had thought the needs of this goddamn sandwich shop was more important than her own. You begin to stir in his arms, and the tension and shake of his arms begins to release as you wake up, Carmen eases you into consciousness when you begin to panic.

“Hey hey, I’m right here, you're okay, you're okay” Carmen replies softly, and you squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to understand what had happened and why you felt like your body was filled with lead.

"What, what happened” You reply, looking across the location of the office.

“You fainted, and I carried you to the office because you are not going back into that kitchen” Carmen replies, sitting up from his slumped position.

You stay quiet,  confusion lacing your features as you shake your head. You fainted? How did that even happen? You had never fainted in your entire life.

Carmen peers at you, his eyes dancing across your face as your silence frightens him, he wouldn't even recognise you, your usual bubbly, and incredibly chirpy self was not replaced by someone who was so exhausted they couldn’t stay conscious.

“You gotta talk to me baby girl, please, look at me, you can tell me, you can tell me anything” Carmen replies, softly, caressing your hand with his thumb when it begins to shake.

You look up at him, his expression of worry and concern causing your features to twist,

“I um, I’m just a little tired” You reply, the beginning of tears choking you, causing your words to rush out as  you try to stop yourself but it is fruitless, and Carmen eyebrows kind of pinch, he kind of frowns a little as he looks at you in that way.

It's all it takes before you sob, and sink into the coach. Carmen gathers you once again in his arms, and scoops your legs so that they lay across his thighs, and your head rests against his collarbone.

“I know baby, I know, I’m sorry, Oh honey I am so sorry” Carmen replies, rubbing your back as you let the last of your resolve sink into his chest, the cry of your tears leaving you speechless.

You can’t stop crying, the cup spilling over and making a big whole mess, snot and tears and heartache and exhaustion dirties Carmen's chef whites and you can't help but grip onto him like he is the only thing tethering you to Earth.

You don’t have to tell Carmen then, he knew the second you walked in, and he knows now when you hold him. There's a certain grief Carmen feels when he looks at you and sees himself, and in a way this is for Carmen too.

You sit like this for a while, you and Carmen. Wrapped in his arms as you lay across his lap, long after the tears had run dry, where you are left with hiccups and the soothing touch of Carmen's hand across your back.

It feels like you two are the only people on earth. Everything is Carmen; its all you smell, all you feel against your skin, all you hear as he whispers into you ear. No one dares to step into the office doors, even when an hour ticks by, even when the trickle of customers turns into a downpour and the orders never end, the family knows that you need this, that your health was better than money, or happy customers and fuck all.

Even after you have cried your eyes out, the responsibility of work begins to weigh on your body, you still had so much to do with so little time

“But the marinade, and- and Sydney's” You begin before Carmen cuts you off with a soft squeeze.

“Richie’ll handle it, and if he doesn't Cicero can go fuck himself. You really think I’m going to let that override you right now? Just forget about the kitchen alright, can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Carmen replies

You nod, the burden that had exhausted you to sickness lifted from your shoulders. You look towards the clock and realise the vendors were coming soon to meet with Carmen, something he couldn’t miss.

“The vendors, aren't they-”

“They came in 3 hours early, it's why it took me so long to get to you when that asshole was throwing a fit” Carmen replies, knowing what you were asking for.

You peek at him in question “Well?”

“They signed.” Carmen replies, rolling eyes and smiling at your delighted squeal

“What did I tell you? Carmen Berzatto is more than-” You start before a yawn stretches through you.

“Alright, alright, enough talking from you. When’s the last time you ate?” Carmen asks

You stop and scratch your head, trying to think and you laugh a little when you can’t remember.

“I don't know” You reply

Carmen’s eye twitches, and he smiles down at you before easing you off his thighs and onto the coach. 

“What- what are you doing?” You ask, not even trying to hide the sadness in your voice. You already miss the heat of his chest warm against your cheek.

Carmen smiles softly as he looks down at you, threaded a hand through his head as he wipes down the creases on his apron.

“I’m making you something”

“What? No it’s- it’s okay I’ll eat at family” You reply, reaching a hand out to him

Carmen reaches for your palm, pressing a soft kiss on your the skin of your knuckles before reaching down to kiss the top of your head.

“No you need to eat now, alright? You're going to sleep the rest of the day, and then, and then, you're coming back to my place so I can keep an eye on you. You gonna listen to me or protest?” Carmen replies, eyebrow raised as he crosses his arms. His voice drops down an octane, like it was a command, and you have to bite back the desire floating in your stomach at the way he looks down with his eyes all heavy from above. 

“Okay, alright, whatever you say Chef” You reply with a smile, and Carmen sinks his teeth into his bottom lip when you say it like that.

“Just wait a sec” Carmen replies, and as he is about to leave you call for him again

“What are you even making, half the ingredients are gone” 

“It’s no problem, it’s your recipe anyway” Carmen replies, with a hint of a smile on his face before he leaves the room. It takes you a while, half because you're exhausted and the other half because you're hungry before the realisation hits you that he's made a recipe for you, about you. 

You can't help the smile that stretches across your face, goddamnit Carmen Berzatto, and you say you aren't a romantic.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Hit List pt. 1

Masterlist

Pairing: Jason Todd x (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, smut, height school sweethearts, first time, nerdy reader, jock Jason, bad boy Jason, before Jason's death, prequel,

Jason got arrested while drag racing. Well, not while drag racing - He’d already won, leaving his opponent eating his audi's dust. The arrest happens after the fact. For assault. The thought made his eyes roll.

Translation: one clean punch to the sore loser who couldn’t handle defeat. But hey, he started it! It wasn't Jason's fault the pretty boy couldn't take a punch after dishing one out so bravely.

You were still catching your breath in the backseat of his Audi when you two heard the sirens. Jason's lips pulled away from yours, his brow furrowing as red and blue lights flickered nearby.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing at the rearview mirror. His jaw tightened as his mind worked out they were probably here for him. Then, with a meaningful look at you, he opened the door. “I think you should get out of the car.”

You blinked at him.

"They’re here for me," he explained, his tone disappointed. “Go back to your friends. I’ll handle this.”

"Come with me," you pleaded, clutching his arm.

He shook his head, pulling his hoodie back on over his head. "If they run my plates, they’ll trace them back to Bruce. It’s better if I stay."

The sirens grew louder. Reluctantly, you stumbled out of the car, gnawing on you lip in worry. You glanced back one last time.

"Go," Jason urged, a brief mischief in his eyes. "I’ll be fine."

You returned to your friends, doing your best to act nonchalant.

"Where were you?" one of them asked, thrusting a red solo cup into your hand.

"I had to take a phone call." You offer a fake chuckel, running your fingers through your hair, trying to unmess it up.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Bruce and Jason got into a fight when the elder had to post bail that night. The ride back to Wayne manner was a silent and awkward one.

"The only reason I let you skip patrol tonight was because you 'had an assignment due tomorrow." Bruce shut the door behind them as they entered the mansion.

Alfred appeared at the entrance to take their jackets.

"I finished early." Jason murmered, shrugging at his adoptive father.

"You need to start taking your life seriously, Jason." Bruce grabbed him by the shoulder.

"By risking it running around wearing spandex with you?" Jason challenged.

Jason got punished for lying that night. Sentenced to having to do patrol with Dick for the next month. Bruce told him that if he hated his life with him so much, he could try his luck back on the Gotham streets.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Bruce’s voice is low, but it carries enough anger to make Alfred glance up from his stitching of the gash on his masters shoulder. “He lied to me again, Alfred. Skipped patrol to go drag racing.”

"Did he win?"

Bruce glared at Alfred over his shoulder.

Alfred wasn't deterred. "Well? Did he?"

"Yes."

"Ah, to be young," Alfred replied, his tone even as he threaded the needle. "Filled with rebellion, rage, and on top of that an orphan. Quite the combination.”

Bruce huffed, leaning against the desk. "I wasn’t that bad."

Alfred’s brow lifts, unimpressed. "If you say so, Master Bruce."

"What about Dick? He never gave me this much trouble. He wanted to patrol.” Bruce argued.

Alfred didn't look up from his work. "Master Dick is a hard worker at everything he does. He was eager to please and found purpose in the work."

"Exactly." Bruce hissed against the pain.

"But he also had you.”

"Jason has me too," Bruce counters, his tone defensive.

Alfred pauses, the needle poised in midair. "You’re quite different with Master Jason, sir. Running Wayne Enterprises leaves little room for fatherhood."

Bruce didn't reply, but the words linger on his mind.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason tossed his books into his bag, his shoulders tense.

"You’re really gonna leave?" Dick asked from the doorway, his voice quieter than usual.

"Yep." Jason didn't even glance up.

Dick exhaled, crossing his arms. "Look, I get it. You didn’t ask for this life. But it’s not as bad as you think."

Jason slammed the bag shut and finally looked at his adopted brother. "Look Dick, you're a nice guy, but this life isn't for me. A room over my head and food on my table is a fucking blessing - don't get me wrong. But all of these fucking responsibilities? The training and running around at night in those ridiculous costumes? No offense..."

"None taken."

"The city’s never done anything for me. Why should I put my life on the line for it? For him?”

Dick shrugged, leaning against the door frame: have you tried telling him you don't want it?

Jason scoffed. "Yeah, like he'd let me quit. By the way, you're stuck with me for the next month. Sorry."

"I dont see it that way." Dick said. "So dont be sorry. And hey, I wasn't Robin for a long time. Only reason why I became Robin was cus I asked him to let me patrol too."

That made jason pause. "Really?"

"Try it."

Jason didnt say anything, the idea lingering on his mind.

Dick took a deep breath before leaving. As he went, he called over his shoulder, "let me know if you leave! I'm gonna turn your room into a gym."

Jason rolled his eyes, but there was a small grin on his lips.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Night patrol with Dick was actually tolerable. Dick’s laid-back attitude made the grind less unbearable.

"Watch this," Dick called out before flipping over a crate with perfect form and landing gymnast-style, arms outstretched.

Jason rolled his eyes beneath his mask but felt a pang of jealousy. "Show-off."

Dick was always good at all the tricks. Whenever Jason tried them, he was always to clumsy, too sloppy, and ended up messing up somehow.

Regardless, he took it as a challenge, running to the edge of the crate and jumping, trying his best to copy Dick's flip. He managed it, however the landing was a different story. He tried to land feet together the way Dick had but ended up losing his balance and having to fall into a crouch with one hand on the ground for balance and one hanging in the air. He laughed to himself because he unintentionally made a superhero landing.

"Not great," Dick spoke with the expertise of a gymnast and the lighthearted one of someone trying not to hurt your feelings. "Dont be too hard on yourself, though. I started training when I was five years old. You're a high school senior-"

Jason rolled his eyes under his mask. "It's this fucking cape. How'd you move in this thing?"

"Poorly." Dick mused, cringing as if he recalled a bad incident. "That's why I ditched it." He gazed down the Nightwing suit with a smile. Jason had to admit it looked cool.

"Nightwing, Robin," Alfreds voice cut their conversation, speaking through their earpiece. "A car chase in pursuit. Two black Buick SUVs pursuit by police on the grand highway, heading towards the exit to metropolis. That's near you."

"Copy that," Dick said, then to Jason. "Let's go."

"How're we gonna stop a car chase?!" Jason asked, bewildered.

"Just follow me!" Dick said, already breaking into a run.

Jason kept up with him, the sound of his boots running against the wet asphalt the only thing they heard. Until the distant police sirens grew louder.

"There!" He pointed towards a series of lights and on the highway.

Dick turned and nodded. "Take cover."

Jason watched as his adopted brother ran from one end of the road to the other, taking something from his utility belt and scattering it where he ran.

The buicks were nearing them, so Jason ran and hid behind a nearby crate and looked around the corner to see what was happening.

As soon as the cars reached their part of the road, explosions went off. Their tires popped, then lit up.

Despite his initial hesitancy, Jason found himself grinning.

"Hey-" Someone spoke beside him.

"Oh, Jesus!" Jason gasped, his fists blindly flying out. Dick stepped aside, dodging it easily.

"When did you get here?" Jason held his hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath.

"Just now," Dick said nonchalantly, before nodding to the scene. "What'd you think?"

Jason turned back to see the cars stopped and the cops pulling up, and arresting the men inside. "Not bad," he said. "What explosives did you use?"

Dick took one out of his utility belt, handing it to his brother to assess. "Oh you mean these little guys?"

Jason studied the tiny gadget in his gloves hand. "Its triggered by impact?"

Dick tilted his head, looking impressed. "Yeah, how'd you kn-"

"Do you make them yourself?" Jason interrupted, still studying the gadget. "Can I keep it? What sets it off?"

Yeah, this kid had ADHD, thought Dick, but he still wanted to answer all of Jason's questions. "Sure. And no I dont make them. Bruce’s buddy is a weapons engineer. He does this kind of stuff."

Cool, Jason thought, still wondering about the make up of the bomb as he shoved it in his pocket.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Dick sighed. "He was plenty interested in one of these today. Maybe he should meet Lucious."

Bruce turned away from his computer to look at dick. "Yeah," he said with a thought. "Jason likes to break things apart." Recalling the story of how they met. Jason was a runt, taking apart the batmobile, planning to use the parts until Batman caught him.

Exhaled a soft chuckle. "Sure, someday I'll take him to meet Lucious."

That day never came.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

You had your own style outside the school’s strict uniform - a blend of rebellion and practicality that Jason couldn’t help but notice. Oversized baggy jeans slumped low on your hips, and that cut-off green jacket you seemed to live in. It was your favorite piece, worn so often that Jason could recognize it from a mile away. He remembered seeing you in it even before Gotham Academy, back when you were just the girl across the street, before adoption changed both your lives in very different ways.

He never thought he’d run into you here in this pretentious school with its manicured lawns and entitled students, but when you landed a science scholarship, he caught himself feeling oddly proud. Happy, even. You were like him - a kindred spirit in a place that felt like it didn’t want either of you. And he made sure you knew it, showing his appreciation in the most 'mature' way possible: tugging at your hair whenever he passed you in the halls, especially when you were with those same three friends you always stuck with.

Jason was walking down the empty school hall. He had just finished swim practice, water still dripping from his dark brown hair, when he heard your voice behind one of the classroom doors. He paused mid-step, instinctively drawn closer.

"Thank you, sir," you said, your tone carrying an unmistakable enthusiasm.

The door opened, and Jason ducked back, leaning casually against the lockers as you walked out. You were stuffing a folder haphazardly into your bag, your face bright with a small, self-satisfied smile. He couldn’t help but grin as he watched you push your glasses up with that familiar, unconscious gesture.

Then he stepped into view. "Big day-?"

"Oh god!" You startled, nearly dropping your bag as you turned to face him. "Hey," you gave him a wave in greeting, then you made a double take. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Swim practice. Six a.m. sharp." He shrugged, ruffling his damp hair with a towel. "What about you? Private meeting with Fischer? What’s that about?"

You frowned, glancing down at your bag. "That’s none of your business."

He smirked, undeterred. "Must’ve been something good. You looked very satisfied walking out of there."

"It’s called being polite," you shot back, rolling your eyes.

Jason leaned in slightly, his grin turning sly. "Polite? Nah, that wasn’t polite. That was more like… out of breath squeaky." He raised his voice to mimick yours with an exaggerated nicenessm "'Oh, thank you, sir! Anything else I can do for you, sir?" He made a show of batting his eyeloashed, ignoring the unimpressed look you gave him.

Shaking your head, you smiled as you brushing past him.

But he didn’t let you off that easily. He fell into step beside you, his tone casual. "I’m just saying-if you’re gonna have a crush on a teacher, maybe aim higher. Fischer’s gotta be pushing fifty."

You stopped mid-step, turning to glare at him. "He is not! He's thirty-four."

Jason’s smirk only widened, and you knew you gave yourself away. Trying to save face, you continued walking.

"So, what are you doing Sunday night?" He fell in step with you again.

You looked at him. "Nothing. Why?"

"I was thinking," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "we could go for a ride. Clear your head from Fischer for a bit. You know, balance things out."

You groaned. "Let me live." Though, you couldn't help but be curious. "A ride where?"

He only grinned, leaving the question unanswered as he turned down another hall. "Just be ready by six pm. Sharp.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason planted kisses on your neck, his hand sliding up your thigh under your skirt, before your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him. "Did you bring a condom?" You asked.

He blinked at you in confusion. "Got somewhere go be?"

You blinked. "No."

"I'm not gonna jump straight to fucking you." He said.

Your brows furrowed. "Right. Of course not." You forced out a laugh, blinking in confusion.

Then his eyes narrowed. "Have you ever let someone finger you before?"

"...No?"

"Have you ever had sex?" His brow rose.

"...No." You felt your cheeks heat up, lowering your eyes. "I'm guessing you have."

He chuckled. "Yeah,"

"What's so funny?" You asked defensively.

"Nothing, nothing." He waved his hand. "Just..."

"Just what?"

He grinned a stupid grin. "Just... im happy."

Well, you didn't expect that response. "Really?" You asked. A small smile spread on your face. He wanted to be your first?

"Yeah," he lowered his lips, biting yours. "I'm gonne be your first." he grinned, feeling a wave for pride rush trhough him.

You couldn't help the smile on your lips.

He cupped your cheek. "I'm gonna make you come first, though." His fingers reached reach the top of your panties, pulling them down past your feet, leaving you only in your skirt and bralette. You dressed nice for him, hoping he'd notice, but you were guessing that he didn't care much about the clothes when you could feel his eyes focus on your bare skin. He lowered his mouth to your thinly clad nipple, sucking it through your bra. You arched you back.

Leaning back on your elbows, you waited for what he would do next. Suddenly, you felt pressure on your core, his finger sliding against your folds before settling on a sensitive spot and rubbing it. Your breath hitched as you arched toward him. "Oh."

"How are you doing?" He asked, grinning.

"G-good," you nodded eagerly, biting your lip, and his fingers sped up. "Nh...when did you lose your virginity?" You asked. "How do you know to do that?"

"Porn." He shrugged.

You snorted. "And the first question?"

Blue grey eyes looked from side to side. "Last year, Halloween party at Jenna Wharton's house."

"Oh. With Jenna?" You blurted out the question before you could stop yourself. You weren't sure why, but the thought of him being intimate with someone made you upset. Even though you two weren't exactly exclusive...

He grinned as if recalling the experience. "Nah, Jenna's older sister. She was visiting from college."

"Oh," you nodded, swallowing down the wave of envy that rose up to your throat. "Was it good -"

His finger curled inside of you, causing your gasp cut off your own question.

"Shut up." He smiled, lowering to kiss you again.

Every movement he made that night was patient, his fingers trailing along your skin as though memorizing every inch. He came to kneel in front of you, bringing his mouth to your cunt, before licking up your slit.

"Fuck," your head rolled back. "Jason, please! Oh my god."

He groaned, grinning against you. He kept licking around one particular spot that made your breath hitch.

When he entered you for the first time, you both gasped. He paused before pulling out of you slowly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Too much?”

“No,” you managed, your voice trembling. “It’s perfect.”

Jason chuckled softly, the warmth of his body feeling dvine aganist your skin. His lips curved into that familiar, boyish grin, and he brought his lips to yours. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

"Me too," you smiled, feeling like you were floating as the intense pulsing took your core.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Jason lay on the warehouse floor, his Robin suit was torn around different parts, the exposed skin under it seeping blood onto the cold floor. Speaking of cold, Jason was pretty sure he was going to die here...

Taglist

@x-gabrielle-x

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 4: Supportive Boyfriends

and for my next (LATE, SO LATE) @bucktommypositivityweek contribution. KITTEN FIC.

(read on ao3)

**

The 118 doesn't have a baby box.

In fact there aren't any in the state of California at all. Buck looked it up, after Maddie's postpartum episode. When half his family was missing and there wasn't much he could do besides wait and... think about things.

So he thought about safe haven laws. Read up on the training seminars for first responders who want to be better equipped to deal with hand-offs. Read a bunch of other stuff he sort of wishes he hadn't. Spent the next week haunted by articles about abandoned children.

He considered talking to Bobby about it. Only partly to ask him if they should get a box for the firehouse. Partly because Buck wasn't sure how he felt about the whole thing, and Bobby always seemed to have answers. But he never worked up the nerve to broach the subject.

And now. Bobby's not captain anymore, and Buck really can't imagine Gerrard giving a shit about any of this.

So, they don't have a box. But.

Well, this isn't a human baby. It's not like the same rules apply.

Buck has to wonder if wires got crossed somewhere, because. Someone left a kitten. Outside the firehouse.

Buck was just going to grab something—he can't remember what—from his Jeep, when he spotted an unlabelled cardboard box on the pavement, up against the side of the building. His first thought was bomb.

Until it meowed at him. A tiny, high-pitched peep of a meow.

Kind of scared the shit out of him, if he's being honest.

There's only one. All alone in the box. A poofy grey thing wriggling around half buried in an off-white towel. Like a very ambitious dust bunny with big round blue eyes and skinny legs. It wobbles slowly over a fold in the towel with all the effort of someone scaling a mountain.

Buck crouches next to the box, and pokes a finger inside.

"Hey, buddy," he murmurs, holding very still while the kitten inches towards his hand and squeaks. It's unclear whether there are teeth in that little maw. That means it's really young, right? Too young to be left alone for very long.

Shit, how is he going to explain this to Gerrard? He's still got, like, 12 hours left on his shift, but someone has to feed this thing. How long can kittens go without food?

Oh, it does have teeth. Really teeny ones. They're ineffectively poking his knuckle.

Buck fishes his phone out of his jacket—with the hand that isn't currently being drooled on—intending to go to Google for answers. How to figure out how old a kitten is. How often do kittens need to be fed. Do cats get separation anxiety. He has a million questions.

Only he doesn't pull up his browser. He calls Tommy.

It's a whim. Barely a seed of an idea. But when he unlocked his phone the first thing he saw was their text history (he'd been complaining about Gerrard off-and-on all morning, and Tommy had been sending random updates about all the chores he'd been getting done—his last message was a picture of a mop with no context) and he just thought... Tommy will know what to do. Not in so many words, more a feeling. Comfort and certainty, just from seeing Tommy's picture in a little bubble at the top of his screen.

"Evan?" Tommy answers almost immediately, and there's a subtle undercurrent of worry in his tone. Buck winces. Right, calling out of the blue while he's at work would look. Bad.

"I'm okay!" He says quickly, all in one breath. Then pauses. The kitten squints up at him, meowing again, long and loud. Its whole fluffy face scrunches with the effort.

"...What was that?"

"Uh. That would be why I called, actually."

—

Gerrard is less of an obstacle than Buck feared he'd be. Because he's holed up in his office doing paperwork when Buck sneaks in with the kitten, and Buck's decided he has no intention of letting him know the cat was ever here.

Tommy promised he'd come get her.

Buck didn't even really ask, and wasn't planning on asking. Didn't have any plan whatsoever, in fact. He just wanted to know if Tommy knew anything about taking care of kittens, and suddenly Tommy's voluntarily sacrificing the rest of his day off to scope out vets and pet supply stores and whatever else Buck's helpless little friend might need.

He hung up hours ago and his insides still feel warm and goopy about it. He can't stop thinking about the gentle fondness that softened Tommy's voice after Buck explained the situation. Buck would wrap himself up in it like a blanket if he could.

Tommy's getting so kissed when he shows up.

In the meantime, Buck's sitting upstairs, working his way through the dozen or so tabs he opened up after googling kitten care.

He thinks the one he found might be around three weeks old (ears not quite unfurled, can't sheathe claws yet, legs unsteady but mobile). And possibly a girl. She did not care for being picked up and turned over, and the indignant squirming made it difficult to tell what's going on down there. But he's almost certain he's right.

She was shrieking up a storm about it, and he was worried if he took any longer she'd alert Gerrard. (She didn't. She did, however, draw the attention of about half the firehouse.)

"You are disgustingly cute," Chimney coos, scratching under her chin with the tip of one finger. She's lifted her head as high as she can and her eyes are squinted happily. Buck can hear her purring from across the room. "Yes you are. Hen, can you get a picture of this?"

Hen pulls out her phone. "Sure... why?" She asks, leaning over his shoulder to snap a picture and eye him with mild suspicion.

"Jee. She'll wanna see when I tell her about my day."

Her expression softens to a smile. "I'll text it to you." She taps her screen a couple times. "Just had to make sure you weren't planning on calendar campaigning again."

Chimney grins. "Nah, my calendar days are behind me. The only person who gets shirtless pictures of me now is my wife."

"Gross," Buck says without conviction. He narrows his eyes at the site he's scrolling through, swiping away a Join Our Mailing List! popup. "You guys don't think she's cold do you? Are her ears warm? It's only, like, 70 today and we don't know how long she was out there."

Hen and Chim exchange glances, and then, disturbingly in sync, look from the cat to Buck. Chim gives her ear a perfunctory poke, which she does not appreciate as much as chin scritches, "She's fine, man."

Hen waves a hand at Buck when he opens his mouth again, "We're medical professionals. And in my medically professional opinion. She's fine."

"Okay, but—"

"Hey guys, look who stopped b—uhhh. Is that a cat?" Eddie slows to a stop at the top of the stairs, blinking at the kitten on the couch. "When did we get a cat?"

"Couple hours ago," Buck says, still frowning at Hen and Chimney. "Where have you been?"

"I found him polishing the engine."

Buck shoots out of his seat. "Tommy!"

He only half-hears Eddie muttering, "Favouritism," as he scuttles around the chair to meet Tommy halfway between the stairs and the sitting area. Tommy has just enough time to smile—and it warms Buck, like it always does, with a spark caught in his chest for safekeeping—and say hi before Buck's on him, palms clapped on either side of his face, smushing their lips together.

He makes a bit of a show of it, dramatically swooping in, because he knows the big smacking MWAH will make Tommy laugh, and he likes the way that feels rumbling against his chest.

Buck taps their noses together. "Hey," he says, savouring the mirth sparkling in Tommy's eyes for a second before kissing him again, properly this time.

His brain goes sort of fuzzy when Tommy's palm cups the back of his neck.

Someone in the distance wolf-whistles.

When they finally come up for air Tommy asks, "What was that for?" a little breathlessly, which is doing things to Buck.

"Mmn...y'know. For being you."

Tommy raises his eyebrows, kiss-reddened lips curling fondly. "Okay."

"Hey, Tommy. Good to see you," Chim calls in a very pointed way.

Right, public setting. Workplace. Friends watching. Buck exhales slowly, and tries to think about anything other than how much he wants to bite that bit of clavicle peeking out of the collar of Tommy's shirt. Like the fact that Tommy's hands are warm, and he's sort of rubbing his fingertips over the short stubbly bits of hair on the back of Buck's head, and Buck's lips are still tingling a little, and—no wait, not that either.

Tommy pulls away first, which is probably for the best, but also very sad. The corner of his mouth twitches like he can see Buck thinking it. He curls his index finger and gently taps Buck's chin with the knuckle before he turns to the group.

"Howie," he says, not even pretending to be contrite in the face of Chim's mock-judgement. "Hen."

"Tommy." Hen fails to contain her smirk.

Some time during all the kissing, Eddie moved over to the couch. He's sat next to the kitten, watching her attempt to groom her paw with all the grace of a toddler who's only a little bit sure they know how to hold a brush. She keeps starting and stopping at random intervals, sometimes licking the cushion beside her, sometimes sticking her tongue out at thin air.

She's so cute it makes Buck's chest hurt. It's a little much while he's still loopy from making out with his boyfriend.

Then Tommy goes and crouches next to the couch so he can get eye-level with the kitten while she sniffs his hand, talking to her all calm and soft with smile-lines crinkling his cheeks, and. Buck might need to lie down for a bit. Like, on top of Tommy, preferably.

The kitten seems to like him too, and he really can't blame her when she crawls up Tommy's sleeve to perch on his shoulder.

She looks so much smaller cuddled up on Tommy. He reaches up to steady her, and she's almost entirely obscured by his hand.

God, is it wrong that he's getting a little hot under the collar about that? He just looks so strong and competent and at the same time, like, gentle. Buck knows how it feels to be touched tenderly by those hands, and apparently just seeing it happen does not affect him any less. In fact it's only added dimensions to his desires.

"I should probably get going," Tommy says, bringing Buck back down to Earth with a resounding splat.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. He's right. The last thing Buck wants is for Tommy to have another run-in with Gerrard, and they don't know how long the old bastard's gonna be occupied.

"Mhm, run while you still can," Chimney pipes up. "Before our dear old captain smells an opportunity to ruin someone's day."

"He does seem to have a sixth sense for that," Eddie adds sullenly. Buck makes a note to ask him what that was about. Later.

"I'll walk you out," Buck says, trying not to sound like a pouting child. He's fairly certain he fails, because Tommy laces their fingers together and gives his hand a comforting squeeze.

He says his goodbyes, the whole time being careful not to dislodge the kitten while she crawls across his shoulders.

Buck goes through the list of kitten care basics he memorized as they make their way to the parking lot. It's...more than he thought it was, honestly. It starts to feel overwhelming as he goes on, and on, and on. He's running out of time to get it all out, and he feels like it's just now sinking in his huge this responsibility that he's dumping in Tommy's lap is.

"You're sure you don't mind taking her?" The question bursts out of Buck before they make it to Tommy's car. "W-we didn't really, I mean. We talked about it over the phone, but..."

"Yeah, now that I've seen her she does seem like a real handful."

The kitten yawns, and curls up into a tiny grey ball in the crook of Tommy's neck.

Well. Alright.

"It's just, t-they need a lot of attention when they're that young, and I kinda just, just dropped this on you."

"Evan." Tommy gives him a look. "Are you worried that you baby-trapped me?"

Okay, when he puts it like that. Maybe a little bit. But also now he's having complicated yearning feelings that he really should not be having this early in the relationship.

Buck's pretty sure he looks like a deer in the headlights right now, because Tommy's doing his damnedest to pretend he isn't laughing at him.

He tugs Buck's hand, leading him the rest of the way to his car.

The backseat is full of cat stuff. Containers of milk-replacement powders, and a shiny plastic litter box, and toys, so many toys, baggies of fake mice and feathery things, just. So much stuff. Piles of it.

"I called up a friend who used to foster kittens. She had a lot of advice. And then I got a little carried away."

"I, uh. See that," Buck laughs breathlessly.

"Over the phone, you sounded like this meant a lot to you? And I think I got really attached to the idea of...this. Taking care of her for you. With you." He sounds hesitant, like he's trying not to say too much, and Buck can't stand it—

"I love you so much," he says in a rush.

"Well, good," Tommy purses his lips around a smile, eyes bright and crinkled at the corners. He reaches up to his shoulder, like he's absent-mindedly checking to see if the kitten's still there. "Wouldn't want her to grow up in a broken home."

Buck huffs a laugh.

"And I love you too."