#laughs nervously in adhd

[vivaciouscynner]

<laughs nervously> Look I don't want to claim something I'm not, but is it possible I'm undiagnosed?

POV: mister Devon Price, PhD, telling me that I am right about everything

Source: Unmasking Autism, discovering the new faces of neurodiversity

[lis-likes-fics]

Delicious

Pairings: demon!Natasha x Reader Word Count: 5.5k words Prompt: Demon AU Warnings: NSFW, corruption kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving), multiple orgasms, strap-on, swearing... A/N: This is late and it's not very good. This would have been so much better but I have ADHD brain and I had to rush this a bit. Sorry, guys. But I hope you still like it! Thank you!

Natasha had never been in this shop before.

Drawn to a strange feeling coming from within, she wanders inside the little cafe and stares at its warm tones, letting her eyes wander the wall of books, the tables and booths, the counter where a beautiful waitress talks to a customer. She lays eyes on you and can feel the mischief twisting in her gut.

You are perfect.

The light that surrounds you is a beacon of…purity. Your tan apron wraps securely around your body, your hair is out of your face, your smile is brighter than the sun and snow outside. She can taste the innocence oozing off your skin like honey from a honey dipper.

You are radiant, and he can’t wait to hold you in her hands and see how dark she can make you.

A dark and charming grin spreads over her red lips as she walks up to the counter, waiting for you to give your warm goodbye to the last customer and offer a warm hello to the next. She steps forward and swears she could get drunk off your virtue.

You give her a bright smile, and she can see it shining in your eyes too. “Hi! What can I get ya?”

Natasha lets her green eyes wander the menu for only a moment, turning her gaze back to you as she speaks slowly, deeply, letting her rasp wash over you like a siren to a sailor. “I’ll have a mocha.”

You nod, picking up your notepad and a permanent marker to write her order as you take in the sight of her face. She’s beautiful. “And what size would you like that in?”

“Grande.”

You pick up the cup, nodding as you do. “Anything else?”

She looks you up and down, drinking you in some more before gauging what it does to you. You seem almost fidgety, flustered. She grins. “What do you recommend?”

“Well,” you chuckle lightly, “I am a sucker for our Christmas special—the gingersnaps. I shape them like little Christmas trees.” You illustrate your words as you pull your hands up to form a triangle, the closest you can get to the tree.

She raises her brows. “Oh, so you make them?”

You nod proudly, smiling widely as you set your hands on the counter. “I do!”

She hums. You’re adorable. “I’ll take it.”

“Alright-y! Will that be all for you?”

“It will,” she nods simply.

You grab her cup size and clutch the permanent marker. “And what’s the name on that order?”

“Natasha,” she purrs, watching you closely and letting her gaze openly drink you in to see how you’ll react. You’re so flustered already, practically melting at the sultry nature of her voice. “But I think Nat will do just fine.”

You start writing the name, “Nat” in pretty script. “Alright, Natasha. A grande mocha and gingersnaps coming right up!” You say her name like warm icing on cinnamon rolls, letting it drip over your skin like melted caramel. You look at her and smile fondly, shyly, your head tilted slightly down but your eyes glancing up at her nervously. “You have…a beautiful name, by the way.”

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head gently. You're hypnotized. “I can't tell if you're flirting or if you're just that nice.”

“O-Oh!” you say, your eyes widening slightly as she catches you by surprise. “Oh, I'm a really bad flirt.” You meet her eyes again and she sees you panic for a moment as you raise your hands. “W-Well, not to say you're not worth flirting with! I think you're very pretty—gorgeous, even. You're very—You're really–!”

She cuts you off with a hearty laugh, reaching a hand out to gently grab your own as she offers you an almost sly grin. “Relax, sweetness,” she bids. “I think you're absolutely delicious, too.”

“O-Oh,” you sigh, smiling as she eases your nerves. Then you realize, “Delicious?”

“Did I say delicious?” She shakes her head gently as if to say “silly me”. She pats your hand lightly before removing her soft fingers from you. She never looks away from your face. “I meant delightful.”

You nod before you speak. Natasha can't help but think how adorable you are, like the purest angel—but how they are in the movies, not the ones stuck up her ass all the time, calling her pest and rodent and vermin.

No. You would never say something so harsh. She can see it in you, the purest diamond. She wants to break you.

“Okay,” you speak softly—and you're so naïve, she thinks for a moment that you heard her thoughts and were offering yourself up to such exploitations.

She licks her bottom lip subtly. She can almost taste your honey. “What was my total?”

You seem to snap out of whatever thoughts run through your mind. “Well…” you clear your throat, “since you're so nice and I own this place… I'll give you the cookies on the house and bring your total down some.” You lean in, and she thinks you'll wink. “Our secret.”

She doesn't know if she thinks you're capable of holding secrets. But she's been around humankind so much, she knows there's always a secret lurking around the corner. You all just can't help yourselves…

“Nonsense,” she shakes her head. “I'd hate to do that to you.”

You smile gently. “Come on. Let me do this. You've been so nice.”

She scoffs gently, not offendedly. “Nice isn't a word people usually associate with me.”

You tilt your head, genuinely curious as to how someone so sweet could never be called “nice”. “What do they usually use?”

With a dark glint in her pretty green eyes, she smiles. “Sinful.”

“Sinful?” you mutter.

She shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a bit of a…mischievous streak.”

You smile sweetly. “And I like giving pretty girls free cookies.”

Natasha sighs, looking you up and down for the sole reason of flustering you again. “Well,” she says, “at least accept this big tip.”

“Tip?” you tilt your head.

“For a beautiful girl like you.”

She's done it. You clear your throat and nod. “O-Oh. Okay,” you say, watching her pull out her wallet. When she pulls out a hefty $50 bill, your eyes widen and you look like you'll have a heart attack. “Oh, this is too much! I can't accept this!”

She makes a pouty face, gazing at you with those pretty green eyes. She leans forward, and you feel yourself crumbling at the sight of her. “Oh, but you would break my heart if you didn't.” She slides the bill over and smiles, still presenting her puppy dog eyes as she lowers her voice. “You don't want to break my heart…do you?”

No. Never. How could you ever break the heart of someone so…her?

“I…” your teeth graze your bottom lip as you think to yourself before ultimately giving in. “Okay.” You slowly reach your hand out and hesitantly grab the bill, clearing your throat and feeling a little clammy for accepting the money as you put it in the pocket of your apron.

She smiles, but it's more like a smirk, a devilish curl of the lips that you don't quite label as dangerous, like you should.

“Good girl,” she purrs.

You don't know why that has such an effect on you. You feel yourself go limp but you stay standing as your eyes flutter and you feel the need to clear your throat again.

“While I'm in the charitable spirit,” Natasha says, satisfied with your obedience, “why don't you go out with me sometime? Got any Christmas plans?”

Your face is warm, the tips of your ears burn with the idea of going out with such a beautiful creature. As you think of your holiday plans, you shake your head. “Uhm, n-no.” Why can't you seem to speak today?

“No?” she says, her face drenched in surprise. “No dinner with family, an outing with friends?” She finds it hard to believe that a sweet girl like you has nothing to do for the biggest holiday season of the year.

But it's hard to have friends when you're all the way in New York and your family is all the way in California and all your friends are visiting their families or have their own friends to be with.

So, no… no plans for you.

“No,” you smile, almost sadly. “Nothing for me this year.”

Natasha almost thinks she's taking pity on you when she asks this, rather than forming her own plan to taint your white ledger.

“Well, I've got no plans. You've got no plans.” She smiles and reaches her hand out to brush your fingers. “Let's fix that.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She nods, pleased with you. “I'll meet you here, then. Seven o'clock, Christmas day. Dress to impress.”

You smile sweetly. “Always do.”

“I can see that,” she says, looking you up and down with an appreciative glance.

You smile widely, a grand smile that puts the sun to shame. “I'll have your order right out.” You pick up your pen and dot the notepad you have her order written on.

Natasha nods before turning and walking toward a tiny table by the window, the morning light still pouring in, even as the morning slowly dwindles into noon. She watches you as you work, her eyes glued to your body as she follows you everywhere.

You really are just so…pure. She was thinking it may have been a façade to make the customers feel welcome, but one look at you, one sniff of your perfume, one word from your sweet lips and she knew you were sweet as sugar. Pure.

She hasn't met someone this pure in a very long time, if ever.

And you would taste divine.

“Nat.”

Her name said by such honey-tainted lips pulls her from her thoughts. She rises from her seat and makes her way to you once more.

Your smile is already ready, and just so sweet. “I hope you enjoy. Thank you for coming and…” you smile, biting your lip briefly, “I'll see you soon.”

“Thank you…” Her gaze darts down to your nametag, reading the letters one-by-one to savor the taste of it. She says your name like she's making love to it. You shudder. “Beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” you speak, your voice so soft and gracious she could have mistaken it for a whimper.

Natasha grabs the cup and the box of cookies, her fingers intentionally brushing yours as she speaks. “Christmas day. Seven. Don't forget.”

You shake your head. “I won't.”

She smiles. “Goodbye, angel.”

You nod quickly, too excited to see her again. “Bye, Nat.”

She walks out of the little cafe, her treats in hand. She lets the door close behind her, lets the bell ring about her head. Once she's out of the coffee shop but still in your view, she takes a sip of her scorching hot coffee like it's nothing and sighs. Even the coffee is as pure as you, perhaps because it was made by such hands.

She turns her head to see you watching her through the window and just nods. She watches your fluster, nodding proudly back to her before trying to look busy.

She can't wait to devour you.

~

You don't know how you got here, with your back pressed to your bedroom wall, with Natasha's hands smoothing underneath your shirt to touch the bare skin of your waist, with your lips molding perfectly with her own like they were made to fit together.

You'd gotten to the cafe an hour early, pretending—even to yourself—to tidy the place since you were closed for the holiday. Natasha showed up five minutes late, but fashionably so. She was beautiful; a pretty blouse red as blood, dark slacks tight around her waist and loose the rest of the way down, a black coat draped down past her knees.

The air was knocked from your lungs. She was beautiful.

Her eyes examined you, and she was impressed. You wore a short, long-sleeved, cream-colored dress and skin-colored tights to fight the cold. An angel.

She’d taken your hand and kissed the back of it, telling you how beautiful you were—though you swear you heard her say “delicious” again.

Then she took you to dinner. It was a nice restaurant, somewhere cozy with really good food. She paid for your food and for dessert, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you ice skating. She held your hand the whole time and paid for you, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you on a late night walk through the park. She held your hand and kept you close and told you that the moon looked beautiful on your skin. You told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then when she walked you home, telling you how beautiful you were at the doorstep and taking your hands and pulling you in for a gentle kiss, you smiled and kissed her back. Then she kept kissing you, and you kept kissing back.

And it turned into you opening your door and letting her inside, kissing her some more and offering her coffee, only to have her tell you that she had everything she needed right here.

Hands wandered, then lips wandered, then she pressed you into the wall, and now she's got you laid out on your bed, still fully dressed and so, so hot.

She leans over you, inhaling the scent of your perfume with a sigh as she keeps kissing you. You hold her, your arms wrapped securely around her neck to keep her close.

Her teeth graze your lip, struggling to refrain from biting so hard, she draws the sweet syrup of your blood. You lean into her touch, keening against her and longing to savor the flavor of her name on your lips as you whisper, “Natasha.”

She wraps her hand around your throat as her mouth trails down to your neck, to your collarbone, feeling your pulse beating rapidly under the skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh, and she chuckles deeply when your breath hitches.

She could just as easily crush your windpipe if she wanted to. She could snap her fingers, and you'd be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and bone.

But where was the fun in that?

No, she would savor you. She would lick your skin and taste the sweet ambrosia you'd create all for her. She would carve her name into your flesh with the bite of her claws. She would sink her sharp teeth to the bone. She would make you scream until the only word you knew were the letters of her name.

Her hand dips low under your dress, gripping your thigh as she slowly moves it up, up, up, her fingers digging into your skin as she does. Your eyes flutter shut, resorting to just feeling her as she touches you any way she likes. She hums deep in her throat as she pulls back to look at you, riding your dress up and pulling your leggings down so she can see the pretty panties you wore for her.

“Mm,” she sighs. “You look delicious, darling.”

Your tiny chuckle comes out as a breathy moan. “Don’t you mean,” you whimper slightly as her sharp nails dig into your skin as they make their way down your leg, the stinging sensations exciting you more than she initially thought. Corrupting you will be easy. “Don’t you mean ‘delightful’?”

Her hand around your throat tightens just a slight, not enough to constrict any airflow, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of her palm against your skin. “No,” she rasps. “I mean delicious.”

She manages to get your tights off, humming appreciatively at your lacey panties before ripping those off your body instead. You gasp lightly but say nothing else, allowing her to do as she wishes as you sit back and enjoy it.

Your hips jerk when her thumb teases the skin of your mound, dipping between your thighs just enough to press it lightly to your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling in quick succession as she presses her thumb so lightly, you wonder if she’s actually touching you. She teases you like this for a moment, feather-light touches that make you so desperate for her.

“Tasha,” you whimper. “Please, I need you.”

Her eyes glint at the way you plead for her. Already, you’ve begun to beg. You’re so responsive, so sensitive to her touch. One would think you were untouched, but no… She would be able to smell that off you, and she smells that this is not the first time someone has been between your legs.

How precious you are. Tainted but still so unspoiled.

The pad of her middle finger grazes your slit, teasing you further as your body keens for her touch. “Say it one more time for me, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Say it. ‘Please, I need you.’ Lemme hear it.”

You whine gently, letting one hand travel to her hair to let your fingers card through the softness of her red locks. You let your bottom lip pass between your teeth before you gladly obey her. “Please,” you whisper, lifting your hips to meet her. “I need you.”

Proud of herself, and of you, she slips her finger inside of you, sheathing it in the warmth and wetness of your body. You hum, closing your eyes. “How is that, angel?” she smiles, watching your eyes dart behind your closed lids.

You nod, parting your lips as a breath passes through them. “Yes.”

She grins devilishly. “Good girl.” She rewards you with another finger in the tightness of your slickening pussy. You reward her with another little whimper. She pumps them slowly, in and out of you, pushing them deep to feel every little part of you before allowing herself to pull out and do it again.

She curls her fingers inside of you, a come hither motion making your lips round into a ‘o’ shape. You whisper her name again, gently begging her for more. More closeness, more pleasure, more her.

She pumps them slowly, massaging your spongy walls as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. “More?” you whimper, still so polite as you beg her for a request. And how could she say no when you’re as sweet as you are?

“You want more of me, angel?” she smiles. “I’ll give you some more.”

She dips down to kiss your collarbone again before she pulls her fingers out of you and laughs at the way you whimper, a pathetic little sound at the loss of her touch. Before you can begin to protest, you hear her snap and feel the zipper at your back begin to zip down your body. But you have no time to question her, as her lips attack yours between the time it takes to pull the dress over your head and off your body.

You don’t seem shy when you are laid bare to her. You keep holding her and kissing her, forgetting your confusion and shock before in favor of tasting the spice of her lips. She pushes you back onto the bed, abruptly separating you, even as your hands stay attached to her arms just to feel her soft skin.

She leans down over your body and lets her kisses ghost over your flesh, a phantom of herself teasing you. You feel her warm breath at the juncture of your thighs and want nothing more than to feel her tongue next. And it seems your prayers are answered when the hot muscle of her tongue flattens against your wet pussy and licks the arousal she’s pulled from you.

She’s happy to listen to the way you whisper her name under your breath when her lips wrap around you, allowing her tongue to plunge between your folds and fill you with pleasure. You moan and grind your hips against her face. She has to hold you down, chuckling darkly as she continues to lap at your needy core.

She sucks around your clit and swirls around your folds, tasting the sweetness you bear with a deep hum. “You taste just as delicious as you smell,” she rasps, kissing you messily. “This body is so…divine.” You melt under her praise, your hands tangling in her hair as your chest heaves.

Her fingers join her tongue once more, stroking and spreading and slipping in and out of you with the sole goal of tasting more of your sweet, sweet honey. “Natasha,” you moan. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? That’s a new one. Out of all the words in the Urban dictionary that can be used to describe Natasha Romanoff, sweetheart is not among them. Still, it’s sweet, and she thinks you’re adorable for thinking that way.

Natasha devours you, feeding off your moans like they are the essence of her being. Her hands grip your flesh and her tongue delves inside of you. She replaces her tongue with her fingers once more, pumping them in and out of you, curling against that sweet spot hidden deep within you. Your back arches and your moans get sucked up into the walls of your bedroom, pitchy and full of breath and desperation. You need her like you need air.

You moan her name again and she knows you’re close by the way your pussy tightens around her fingers, the way your clit pulses between her lips, by the way your fingers begin to tug at the locks of red hair you have tangled between them. She works harder, so eager to taste your nectar.

You hurdle over the edge with a loud, gasping moan. She holds you securely atop the counter, fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around her, easing you through your orgasm. You chant her name under your breath, riding out your high against her face as she keeps building you up and prolonging your release just so she can continue to suck on your offerings, like the sap from a maple tree.

The last sparks of pleasure shoot through your limbs, in your belly. Your hips jerk when her fingers curve inside of you just a slight. She pulls them out and pulls away and licks her lips like she’s gotten sugar smeared all over them. “Oh, my angel,” she rasps. “Like heaven on earth.”

And you think she’s done as you will yourself to sit up, offering a sweet smile as you pull her in to kiss again, fully intending on seeing if she tastes just as “delicious” as she keeps telling you that you are.

But she breaks her kiss and stands off the bed and to her feet. You sit back, watching her pull her blouse over her head as her eyes stay glued to your beautiful body. She slips her lacey, only-for-decoration bra from her body to leave herself in nothing but her slacks.

You gaze at her, taking in the perfect hour-glass of her body and gawking when she steps out of her slacks and presents you with the strap-on she’s been hiding all this time. She watches the way you stare at it, smirking to herself as she stalks back over to you, leaning on the bed with her knee. “You like?” she says.

You bring your gaze up to her face, swallowing thickly and feeling embarrassment warming in your face for staring. You just nod. She chuckles, cupping your chin with her hand and shaking her head. She thinks you’re adorable.

She slides the hand around to your neck, cupping you there and pulling you in for a kiss. You moan, leaning into her. “But what about you?” you whisper, pressing your hand to her side and stroking your fingers over the skin.

She shrugs, “Don’t worry.” You miss the small wave of her hand behind her back as she lets her magic wash over her, connecting her own pleasure to that of her strap as she’s done a million times before. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know the extent of her inhumanity. It isn’t important to the pleasure she derives from getting to taint something as pure as you. “It’s double-sided,” she lies.

You don’t get to protest because her lips are already on yours again. She slides her fingers through your folds again, swallowing your moans as she lays you down on your back and spreads you wide open for her.

As you're distracted by her kiss, she thrusts inside of you with a deep moan. You break the kiss, laying your head back and letting out a whimper of your own as she fills you, stretches you open for her as your tight pussy adjusts. You whisper her name like a prayer, and she moans yours like a sin.

She gives you only a moment to adjust to her size before she's moving her hips, a slow and steady in and out as she gets herself used to the feel of you, and oh… You definitely do not disappoint as you squeeze her cock like a vice.

“Fuck, my angel,” she laughs to herself. “You're fucking perfect.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders and savor the strokes of their cock inside you. “Please, Tasha,” you mutter.

She likes the way Tasha sounds. She's never been called Tasha before, her nickname has always been Nat. But the way it sounds falling from your lips, like a spell seeping into her skin and pulling her under your enchantment.

And it's hard to deny you when you look as precious as you do.

Her cock slides in and out of you in long, slow strokes as she fills you to the brim. You bite down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathe long, heavy sighs at the feelings she thrusts into you.

The desire for you, the desire to tear you apart invaded every little crevice of her being as she lost herself to more and more of her urge to fuck you desperate. She wants to hear your angelic voice beg a demon to fuck her nice and deep. She wants to see you fall apart, become a sinner all for her.

She grips your hips tightly, her rough thrusts no longer forgiving as she decides to take you how she wanted. You moan and whimper as your legs climb her waist until they're wrapped around her. She holds your thigh and just keeps thrusting.

You stutter her name, your capacity to remember anything else already slipping. She thrusts into you with all the passion in the world.

And then she pulls out at the pique of your wanton moans. You mewl and uselessly grab at her arms and waist. She separates from you with a sigh and ignores your attempts at bringing her back in, turning you on your stomach instead.

She thrusts inside without another word, filling you up from behind as you let your head hang. “There you go,” she husks. “That's better. Now I can fuck you like a whore.”

You moan, gripping the sheets and letting her do as she pleases. She keeps fucking you, relishing in the building sound of her hips smacking against your slick skin, the sound of you practically crying at the feeling of her fucking you so roughly making it harder to hold back.

“P-Please,” you stutter, clenching harder at the feeling. “Please don't stop. You're…amazing.”

Your gentle praise spurs her on more than she'd intended. She presses her finger to your clit and begins to rub fast, tight circles over it. She wants to feel you come undone. The more you cum on her cock, the more tainted you become with her darkness.

Her cock spears into you, pulling the dirtiest sounds from you as they echoed in the room—skin on skin, wet against wet. Your mouth falls open and you let out breathless cries accompanied with their own pleasured tears as they slip down your cheeks.

It feels so good, and you're going to cum.

You feel your body getting ready for it, building up higher and higher until you can do nothing but moan Natasha's name and shake upon your crashing release.

“Tasha,” you whine, dragging the last syllable out and breaking off into a pathetic moan. She keeps fucking you, groaning roughly as you clench so tightly around her. You gush and moan and she can't help but to fuck you just a little harder.

And when the orgasm melds to a little tremble, she keeps going. One of her hands wraps around your throat, tightening just a bit. She likes to feel her veins thumping under her palm, she likes to feel your life in her hand.

And apparently, so do you as you wrap your hand around hers and hold it securely there. Her eyes close as your pussy tightens, her thrusts become rougher as your moans become louder. She is going to make you cum again, she's set on it.

Your legs are a trembling mess, your arms are slowly dwindling in the strength they need to hold you up. “Please,” you mewl again. “Please don't stop, Tasha. I need you so…fucking bad.”

She feels successful. That's the first time she's heard you curse, and she's so excited to have spoiled your tongue with such a word. She rubs your clit again, wanting to reward you.

“I want you to cum for me again, angel,” she rasps. “All over me. Come on.”

Her thrusts are becoming sloppy, so absorbed in her oncoming release as she readies herself for your own. She pulls you back to meet her thrusts, rough and fast and deep as she continues to build you up.

You moan loudly as the pleasure builds and builds until it snaps. You throw your head back, crying out as you cum with the tight squeeze of your cunt. The warmth and the wetness of your pussy is too much as Natasha follows after you. She moans deeply in her throat as she grinds roughly inside of you, burying her cock in your pussy as if she was cumming in you to give you a deeper taint of your purity.

You allow your arms to give out as you fall forward onto the bed and muffle your moans into the sheets. She keeps gripping your hips tight, still riding out her high as she moans your name and lets out a string of curses.

Your whole body is shuddering by the time both your pleasure is reduced to tiny spasms through your limbs. She thrusts her hips a couple more times before pulling out of you with a long sigh.

You roll onto your side, lazily lying there as you glance up at Natasha with heavy eyelids. She runs a hand through her hair and gathers herself, looking down at you as the pride shimmers in her eyes and her chest.

She watches you, smiling, though she can't help a prickle of confusion when she takes in the sight of you. You lay there, half-asleep and completely spent, bare and vulnerable and exploited by her darkness.

And, yet, you look every bit like an angel as when she first met you. You look just as sweet, smell just as sweet, smile at her just as sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper sweetly. She watches you, watches as you pat the spot next to you and cast your innocent eyes on her.

And she's curious, so she lays down where you offer her a spot. Then you cup her cheek with the palm of your hand and kiss her, a long and slow and gentle kiss that Natasha becomes conflicted with as she leans into it.

Then you wrap your arms around her body and pull her in tight so she can't escape—or, she could… but she won't. All that time spent trying to corrupt you, and you're still the virtuous little angel she met at the coffee shop, cradling her in your arms and kissing her forehead and thanking her for the night of passionate fucking she'd just given you.

There is a warmth in your arms that Natasha hasn't felt in a long time. She's not quite sure if she's ever felt a warmth like this. She leans into it, she feels herself succumbing to your purities, despite her best efforts.

Curious, she lets you hold her, even longer after you had fallen asleep as she could safely slip away into the night, never to see you again.

But, no… You intrigue her. She couldn't leave now, especially if there was still so much virtue left in you. She will have to stick around. Yes… she will have to keep you a while longer.

You are a rare delicacy. She couldn't let you go to waste.

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[eustasskidagenda]

omg hi hi! i adore your writing so much :3! if its alright with you, could i get headcanons for how crocodile, law, kid, and ace would be with an autistic s/o who loves to infodump, but is nervous to do so. theres always this odd bit of shame that accompanies infodumping for me because i get so excited i cant properly articulate myself *lays down* its just a mess of stimming, stuttering, and laughing at my own jokes. i feel embarrassed after, even if its totally an illogical response. im unsure if you write for autistic y/n so feel free to ignore this if you dont. thank you so much <33

☆Crocodile, Law, Kid & Ace with an autistic s/o who loves to info dump 

Hello, dear anon! I'm not used to write autistic y/n, because I don't know enough about this and I wouldn't like to be harmful. However, the situation you're describing is something close to ADHD, which I know well. So I've made some additional researches to be sure and come up with something, I hope you will like it. Thank you for your request, it was a sweet one ♡

CW : g/n reader, slight curses for Kid, fluff 

WC : Around 1,500 words

Crocodile 

Crocodile doesn't talk much, he's always serious and quiet. It's just that he's often thinking about his business and plans. But he's a good observer and would immediately notice if you want to say something but are too nervous to do it. He knows you perfectly, so he would recognize the way you're fidgeting.

He's a man with good manners, so his first reflex would be to lock the door and make sure no one can enter and destabilize you. When it's done, he will point his chair towards you.

"Sit. I'm listening, y/n." 

Actually, he likes hearing you speak during hours. He knows it's a way to express your love and feelings. He's flattered that you want to share your world with him. Go ahead and speak, he will listen. Even if he's just nodding or commenting short sentences in response, he has a good memory and will remember everything you said to him. 

If you're talking too fast and start to get really flustered, he will let you know that you're speaking too fast, like 'y/n, what did you just say?' 

Your hyper-focus and info-dumping are appreciated by Crocodile because he enjoys learning new things and you're a source of knowledge. Maybe he's impassive and struggles to express his feelings, but sometimes you will hear him talk about what he learned with you, so clearly he listened to every single word. 

"Don't be ashamed, it was interesting. Can we talk more about this specific point?" 

If you say something that he is really curious about, he has no shame asking for more. It's a way for him to express his genuine care for you. For him, it's a way to prove to you that even though he's always quiet, he cares.

Law

Law is similar to Crocodile in his lack of emotional expression and limited speech. He is always busy, struggling with his parasitic thoughts and taking care of his patients. Finding some private time with you is a challenge for him. 

If you run into Law with excitement about your passion or new hyper-focus, he may feel embarrassed because it's not the perfect time for him. Autism is something he knows about, and he is an intelligent and educated man. And, he wants to make you feel safe and comfortable. 

"I'll be yours in a moment, y/n-ya."

He has a complete understanding of you and is an excellent observer. The way you're already blushing, fidgeting, and swallowing nervously. He can even hear your heart racing. So first thing first, he will tell you to take a deep breath. After all, he’s a doctor. 

"What do you wanna talk about?" 

As Crocodile, he's a great listener. When you're full of passion and excitement, he thinks you're cute. He likes the sound of your voice. He loves when you want to find him and talk about your passion, because you're offering him a break from his work. If you weren't there, he would be stuck either in work or in his own head. When he's with you, he can forget about his dream of avenging. You're his safe place, truly. 

He doesn't speak a lot. But he is listening.M and asks questions from time to time.

"Yn-ya, there's been no urge. Take your time." And if you're stuttering a lot, he would just say nothing because it's pointless to make a remark, as long as he can understand what you're saying, he will never say something about your elocution. 

"That's interesting, where did you learn that much?" 

Law is a curious and intelligent man, so he likes to learn more about almost everything. If it can help him with his plans or maybe his patients, it might even be beneficial for him.

During your bedtime together, he would ask you to talk about your passions. The way you talk and laugh is like his own lullaby. When you speak, he can find inner peace because it shuts down all the voices in his head. He might fall asleep sometimes when he feels tired. It's just that you're providing him with some relief. When he wakes up, he would be deeply sorry. "So, yesterday, you stopped at this precise point… what were you trying to say after?"

Kid 

Kid is so goddamn loud. And really passionate. He's focused on his goal of becoming the next PK and has loved mechanics and robotics since childhood. He would be aggressively sweet, like frowning when he notices how stressed and nervous you act towards him. "Hey, Y/N, why are you so fucking nervous? Just speak" 

He thinks you're cute with your cheeks all red. On the flip side, he's a bit confused. Why are you nervous? Is it his fault? He knows he's loud, hard to love and rough, but he cares about people he likes. Have you seen how he acts with Killer and his crew? He loves his people. 

And, as a punk, Kid is marginalized. He knows a lot about being different, and if you feel ashamed about it, he can understand. "Come on y/n, let's find a private place" 

Grab your wrist in an aggressive yet sweet way and lead you to his workshop or bedroom. He sits you on the bed with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. "Now we're alone." 

So, you start talking nervously. It doesn't matter if the topic is interesting to him or not, he will listen. Because as I said, Kid is a passionate. Everything can be made interesting by passionate people. So, yeah, talk about birds, cakes, plushies, or anything stuck in your head. He will like it. And he enjoys the sound of your voice. He’s even flattered to be your special someone, the one you’re looking for when you need to talk. It fuels his ego and pride.

He will deal with your stuttering as he deals with Killer's laugh. He'll shut up and smash all the people making fun of you if there's something you hate about yourself. You're his s/o, no one can laugh at you and continue to live without facing his rage.

"Goddamn, slow down" yes, not the best with kindness, but at least he's paying attention. 

He wouldn't help but think you're really cute, with your eyes shining as you finally manage to relax and express how passionate you are. He understands your excitement because when he talks about robots, music, punk or weapons, he's exactly the same. 

Kid is not the most culturally advanced, it depends on the topic. He enjoys learning new things thanks to you or Killer, it's important for him to be credible, and he hates looking inferior in front of others. 

"See, there was no reason to be that nervous" When you finished speaking.

Just poke your cheek, grin and leave a mark of lipstick on your front-head before returning to his activities and yelling proudly to everyone he knows everything about the subject you just info-dump about.

Ace

The sweetest. Ace's personality is both compassionate and protective. He grew up with Luffy, so passionate and talkative people are something he knows a lot about. As he's proud of his brother, he's proud of you and can listen to everything you say for hours. 

"Y/N, is there something wrong?" 

Yeah, he would immediately notice that you're starting to get nervous. His first reflex is to find a more private place, if that's not already the case. He wants to do everything to make you feel safe and loved. If it's winter or just cold, he would even use his DF to warm the room. As soon as you're all comfortable, he'll run his fingers through your hair. "You know I will always listen." 

Ace doesn't speak a lot about what's on his mind. He's way too stubborn and always struggles with guilt due to the blood running through his veins. So he enjoys having someone like you. Your voice is soothing him, and he loves how passionate and honest you are always. 

For him, it's even amazing and unreal to have someone talk to him. You're treating him like a normal human and not a failure, because he feels like it often: unloved, unwanted and unworthy.

"Sweetie, you don't have to rush, we have the time, I'll always listen" if you start to speak too fast.

Would entwine his fingers with yours when you're stuttering and laugh heartily at your jokes. You remind him of his dear little brother. He feels lucky to have you by his side. 

"I could listen for hours." And he's totally honest.

If someone makes fun of you, he's truly mad. You are as significant to him as his brother or Whitebeard. And if someone makes fun of his loved-one, Ace is merciless and really impulsive.

"Please, say more about this specific point!", "Oh, really, that's so funny?" He wants to make you talk even more. Until you're finally relaxed and able to speak without stuttering, blushing, or anything else. He doesn't mind it, even if it lasts for hours. Once you're done, he has his usual sweet smile on his face. "That was so interesting, why are you so embarrassed?" 

So you explain to him that you feel embarrassed about your info dump because you're afraid to annoy people or talk too fast etc." It's alright, you won't bother me." 

You're his sunshine. He feels loved with you. He feels more than just the son of someone; he's just Ace, and that's the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

Such a sweet boy. ♡

[alphian-hcs]

Dorm Leaders with an s/o who has never received a valentines gift

Wondernote: Later on I will put character borders, but I need to churn out this so they are not available yet, but they will be up soon! also yes, this is slightly self indulgent, since I have never been given a valentine gift in a romantic way, or even friendly way lol- also dearest apologies for making this four days late. Prepping for college and adhd kept me distracted.

Riddle Rosehearts

- Riddle would honestly be familiar with this feeling, any valentines he would have been given would have been taken by his mother.

- He tries his best, asking Trey and Cater for help on what kind of things to get his S/O, eventually deciding to get a bouquet of his s/o's favorite flowers, and a self made tart, without any oyster sauce.

Riddle had been waiting at the small, white gazebo in the Heartslabyul garden, having invited his s/o for a tea party with just the two of them. Soon, S/O arrived, greeting Riddle with a smile as they sat at the table with their boyfriend, him seeing timid and nervous. Before they could get out the question of if he was okay, they were cut off by Riddle, who gently placed the gift of the tart on the table, before handing them the bouquet. "Apologies, I'm not exactly sure what would have been a good gift, but I dearly hope you enjoy this. Will you be my Valentine?"

Leona Kingscholar

- He would put in the least effort until he learns his s/o never had a valentine, now feeling he needs to give more effort, putting all kinds of expensive chocolates and jewelery with a sweet note attached.

- Leona would definitely have called Ruggie in to go and get the items he needed for it, though spends the time to set it up, grumbling when he gets frustrated with it possibly not looking good enough.

Kingscholar waited at the door next to his s/o's class, his tail waving back in forth anxiously, as he held the wrapped heart shaped box, some necklaces and bracelets wrapped around it. When the class was over he waited until he saw his S/o and pulled them aside, handing the box over with a huff and a simple question, his face dusted in pink. "Would you be my valentine, herbivore?"

Azul Ashengrotto

- Definitely went in thinking that he would be completely fine, but began to panic when he learns that the s/o never had a valentine who asked them out or gave them something. Azul then begins to plan the best sea themed chocolates, using Monstro Lounge's kitchen to make the chocolates and molds.

- Azul probably adds some extra coins he had on hand, like the chocolate coin things with some nice shells to surround the chocolates, putting it all in a special edition Monstro lounge valentines box.

Azul nervously looked to his s/o, watching them enter the office as he kept the box hidden, staring them down until he finally mustered the courage, speaking "Prefect, I know you aren't familiar with this sort of thing, but please accept this valentines. I hope you accept my offer of being your Valentine aswell."

Kalim Al-Asim

- This man would immediately make such a big deal out of the situation. Expect a bunch of gifts as soon as the door is open. Kalim would go all out, making Jamil stressed and his S/o buried in gifts

- Kalim spends all his time getting gifts, making cards, and even preparing a special party just for his S/o. Of course Kalim tries to make some candies, but Jamil intervenes once he realized what Kalim was doing.

As S/O opened the door to ramshackle, a large amount of gifts fell through, nearly covering them completely, while Kalim laughed, entering the dorm, kneeling next to his S/O, a few small bandages on his fingers from cooking incidents before Jamil's intervention. "Heya treasure! You okay? Sorry that they fell on you- but- When you said you never got a valentine I just knew I had to go all out! So, will you be my Valentine?"

Vil Schoenheit

- Vil would be concerned from this, but is already planning in his head in how to give his s/o a great valentine gift, while making sure it was a healthy and fashionable item for his S/O.

- He has Rook do some recon (Stalking) so he can learn of things that his S/O likes or is interested in. Vil would even avoid some modeling gigs just to focus on the project, wanting it to be absolutely perfect.

Vil had just finished the gift that he made, and began his walk to his S/O's decrepit dorm, confident that his S/O would like the gift. Soon he arrived and opened waited for his partner. When they came out, he gave them the bouquet and spoke "Here Dearest, I truly believe you would love this. I'm sure this doesn't need saying, but... Would you care to be my valentine?"

Idia Shroud

- Immediately says "lol same" before Ortho has to tell him to take this seriously, so that Idia doesn't unintentionally hurt his S/O's feelings. After that, Ortho immediately gets Idia to take everything seriously, helping his brother get ideas of good valentine gifts.

- After a long time of idea searching, he eventually decides to try with his own flair to it. He puts a bunch of game arts and chocolates in a goodie bag, along with a few coupons for a video game store.

Idia walked up to his S/o, his hair already flaring pink along with his face. Ortho was surely watching from somewhere to make sure his older brother didn't wimp out, So Idia knew he couldn't wimp out. The flame haired male walked up to his S/O and nervously pushed the gift bag into their chest, hiding his face. "D-don't make me ask twice, cuz if you do my hp would drop.. s-so uh...be my partner for t-this Valentine's event...?"

Malleus Draconia

- Valentine's? What's that? He would have to ask everyone in Diasomnia about the event, just so that he can understand what the premise is. Sebek is crying as he tries to figure out who Malleus wants to give a valentine's to.

- Eventually he decides on a simple black rose bouquet, with some small gargoyle like ornament in the center, with lots of dark chocolates in a nice box with a black and green bow wrapped around it.

Malleus walked to the gate of ramshackle, a smile on his face, as he pushed the gate open, meeting with his S/O, holding the bouquet close before he gently held their hand, asking gently "My dearest child of man, I was told of this holiday and the proper gifts. Well then, dearest. Will you be my Valentine?"

[herejusttosufferalong]

Hello, SEX anon again.

YOOOOOO, we have been fed so well these past few days. Isn't it?! I was getting a little peckish and A03 wasn't really filling me up. Slutty smirk. Then poof. Everything I ever dreamed about, on my plate. In my mouth. Blessed with fresh pics of N at Wimbledon. White last year, black this year. I see you, girl. That dark side coming out but your face like an angel. Ta-tas for days. Good for fkn you. Can confirm all previous statements.

Then before that we get BTS of an actual, irl wedding between L&N. I was fkn sobbing uncontrollably. Look at her cute cherub face, talking about shitting herself, placing her hand on his god damn heart. Are you trying to fck with me? You are the realest person I've ever seen in my life, I love you and if I met you my eyes would pop out and I would die peacefully having breathed the breath that you breathed in my vicinity. Thank you, I love you.

Then there's that goofy L. Jaw on the floor. Eyes bulging. Drinking her all up. Breathing her in Hocus Pocus style. Being all David Brent when startled by the cameraman. Yeah, guy, you're being filmed. This is a set. GUY. LOOK at me. We're filming. HELLO? Nup, gone. And them just having those glazed over eyes, just emotionally spent, just overcome, just in love, but not aware or maybe are aware, but I like the way you feel physically, and you look perfect, and you smell nice, and I cannot stop looking at your lips and eyes and your lips, and oh bohy. It must be fkn draining. It must be so hard to get married and pretend it's fake. I imagine that would be so challenging, but you know, they the pros.

Full disclosure, I wasn't present when this gift came to light. I was minding my own business, getting slightly high with my partner (medical, of course), thinking of ways to confess my love of Lukola and get his ADHD male POV. That sweet anon with toddlers inspired me to come clean. But it didn't go so well initially, because I was all slowed down, and laughing nervously, and saying shit like "I need to tell you something... please don't judge me... oh god". He looked like L when some man touch N. So yeah, I wouldn't recommend. But it all turned out just fine. What would've taken 10 mins took about 2 hours to explain. Tangents upon tangents of Brazil and security guards and Rory and the forehead stroke. But we got there. Ngl, we analysed hard. Every position. It was hot af. Some insights:

After two seconds watching L&N interview - "that guy is lost, he clearly wants her though... got some self-confidence issues... giving me Karl Pilkington vibes... she's like his carer". Fkn lol. Me being like N defending L "but like he's a nice guy, like a sweet sensitive guy". "Yeah he seems like it but he's clearly out of her league...". Me holding onto Lukola delulu so hard, "I know but he could get to her level, don't you think?". Please for the love of god. "Yeah but it's all down to him. He's the problem". YEP WE KNOW.

L is a "leaf in the wind" blowing everywhere, no foundation in himself, that's why his behaviour is so confusing. L is not aware of his feelings on a conscious level or not fully accepting it. Flirty behaviour followed by odd looks explained by liking her touch and closeness but not wanting others to know he likes it. Thinks they caught feelings on set. Didn't go ahead because of filming and being 'in character'. Reunited after filming, cue pics of them together, and lots of chatter about them being together irl. Thinks that L's friendship group may have joked about it, gave him shit for it, and L buried those feelings deep. May have been getting thirst messages after 'glow up', pumped up by fuck boy mates, ego takes over. Opts for friend-approved doll. Feelings came up again during press tour when separated from friends. May have acted impulsively on said feelings - Brazil possibly. Possibly shut down by N due to timing and messy third parties. Back to London and influences. Lost again.

My desperate question, "Will he find his way back? To self-actualisation???" "It would be hard for someone like him to find his true self when surrounded by those people". Me still hopeful, "Oh but he'll probably be away from them when they start s4 filming". Him being logical af. "Could be a good opportunity... I can only see two ways of him changing... either he reaches rock bottom and starts to wonder why he's so miserable, and even then maybe not... or someone he trusts and respects talks him round... but it's going to be really hard for him... he's asleep at the wheel". Ok, gotcha. Fck this is gonna be a slow process, guys.

But then again they already married so who gives a fck.

"But then again they already married so who gives a fck."

I FUCKIN LOVE YOU ANON

PLS SEND MORE 💜🥃

[wassupmygays]

do u have any hc of the significance of pony and soda in the musical having jewelry/necklaces they play w a lot but darry not having any and i noticed when i saw brent is v still when he speaks but soda and pony fidget a lot

i am always fascinated and in awe of the ways actors use physicality to portray so much about the character, and this show is no different. you can definitely look at this both from canon facts and hcs of the characters.

darry, for example, we know through ponyboy's eyes as this rock of a man that doesnt give in to anything. ponyboy is seeing this through his young, upset eyes and just thinks darry is so stuck and strict bc he doesn't like ponyboy. but i also think that is just . darry coping. and trying not to break. brent has said in multiple interviews that he plays darry very still on purpose. partly because, thematically, he is the rock of the family. he is the pillar holding them up. he has to be still and strong. i feel like if he thinks if he lets himself fidget nervously too much, he'll break, and he just cant have that. the only fidgety character choice i know brent does is biting his nails during stressful scenes, which in my heart is a trait darry and pony share (pony does it in the book a bunch)

sodapop, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. i think if he settles down for a moment too long, that is when he breaks. jason understands soda as a character SO WELL every time he talks about how he plays him im just like yea. youre sodapop. anyways he regularly talks about how when soda allows feels emotions, he experiences them in Big Ways. he cries for days, he feels everything so completely. but he cant let himself do that all the time, so he bounces around. he deflects with a laugh. he busies himself with making everyone else feel better so he doesn't have to focus on his own emotions until he can get the time to let himself let it all go. headcanon wise i think he especially fidgets with his dad's dog tags whenever hes gotta try and hold it all together. he's also an adhd king, so even if he isnt trying to distract himself, hes not staying still.

and finally, ponyboy. i think he is a nervous fidgeter. hes also a 14 year old kid, with all of this pent up emotion about his family and his world and wanting more somehow. he has so much inside of him that he just doesn't understand. i don't think he's as hyperactive about it as sodapop, but its still there. hes chewing his nails, hes tapping his fingers, hes playing with his necklace, or hes running a hand through his hair. to me it feels like hes a mix of his brothers; he can't stay still at all, like soda, but his movements are smaller, like darry. him and darry share a lot of the same motions. and also i think writing, movies, and daydreaming is where he gets out a lot of his energy and feelings.

anyways. that was really long. i love you if you read all of that. as you can see i have So Many thoughts about these characters, so thank you thank you thank you for this ask and im sorry it took some time to answer dkfjdkjfkjf. i will always take more asks to talk about these characters and this story <3

[shallowseeker]

DEAN: *is all watery-eyed and weird when cas dies the first time*

CAS: *returns and is very, very Cranky (TM) and yelling at everyone*

Instead of being happy, relieved, or appreciative of one another's fighting spirit outright, they fall into a pattern of fighting and banter. They're full of fear, fatalism, and their own discordant Hail-Mary-style ideas.

And they disagree with each other. Their fear, in general, manifests in being short with one another and hilariously calling each other's plans stupid.

They're very immature and ill-equipped to handle caring about each other, basically. It's kinda cute.

They could say "thank you," or "I'm glad you're okay." Instead? Cas flies out of the gate, bossily laying into them about needing to be more careful. Later, he arrives at the hospital and calls the plan of fighting Lucifer stupid.

When Dean responds that Cas's plan is even stupider, Cas tells Dean that he wasn't worth rebelling for at all because he's a failure and should shut the Hell up.

Glorious.

There's so much Weird tension getting in the way of what should be a renewed brother-in-arms-friendship. It should be simple, a hearty hug between friends, some thuds on the back—you know, a simple "we made it, brother!" style of camaraderie.

Instead, they're weird about it.

///

And while Dean is usuallyweird (he's a weird, word-vomitey guy at heart), he's being epically weird in 5x03.

I'd say he's being even weirder than Cas is at times, and not just about his nervousness surrounding personal space.

It's everything.

It's even played for laughs a little bit. Cas says a lot of weird shit to the cop, and then somehow gains the cop's trust anyway.

Right after this, the cop calls Dean out, but not Cas.

"Uh, no, Kolchak."

In the end, Cas winds up having the advantage in this bizarre exchange. In a surprise twist, the officer has responded better to Cas's frank honesty than to Dean's sarcasm and indirectness.

///

But anyway, it's no wonder Dean's being odd. Man's Hella stressed.

Per the conversation with Sam at the end of 5x01, Dean is barely hanging in there. "He's trying." But he's also feeling the weight of his own fatalism. "I'll fight, but we haven't got a snowball's chance in Hell of winning."

And I personally think he's still anxious post-Cas's first death.

That's a frightening thing to contend with, that one of your strongest, "seemingly invincible" Superman allies can die. It rocks the tenuous stability beneath your feet, so to speak.

Here's the strangest thing: Cas asks Dean to go on a mission with him. But even after Cas straight-up tells Dean no angel would dare harm him, Dean assumes that they're both going to die anyway.

...

I think this speaks to Dean's issues focusing. His anxiety must be through the roof, because he's usually so good at hanging on to details like that.

There's also his guilt surrounding Cas facing Raphael alone the first time. And it's coming out this way.

This time, he's automatically cast himself in the role of being there alongside Cas, dying alongside him.

It's not until later that his denial falls away and the truth catches up to him, that Cas means to die alone:

Cas repeats himself, that the archangel wouldn't dare harm Dean:

This is not a revelation.

Cas told him as such right off the bat. But like in the scene with Chuck, Dean's brain prefers to dive straight into denial.

It's interesting for a character like Dean. He's VERY used to losing people, but with Cas, there's a creeping denial and disappointment clouding the whole thing.

There's probably already a crush there... it's coming out in watery eyes and hilarious ADHD-word vomit (Thelma-Louise, fussing about personal space and then getting into his personal space, Bert-n-Ernie-are-gay, last night on earth) because Dean doesn't know what to do with it.

He doesn't know how to handle the confusing mix of feelings. He had a lot of them when Cas died the first time. Now, where can that energy even go?

The face journey he goes on as he realizes Cas is expecting to die... again.

It's a little sad, tbh.

///

And then later, when they face off against Raphael, facing him together as Raphael enters "their" kitchen, Dean's fears all come out as jokes and banter again.

It's his preferred defense mechanism against strong emotions. He's worried, but he can't show it.

///

Another thing.

I think it's neat that they're squatting in this cute, dilapidated house.

Raphael appears in a kitchen, recreating the circumstances of Cas's first death in Chuck's kitchen.

Some other cute details about the house they're chosen. Dean has his usual cooler, but here he's put it near the hearth of the home, one of his motifs. He acts as bait, drawing Raphael nearer while Cas moves to attack him.

But the specter of the hearth is still meaningful.

And while Dean distracts Raphael, they lure him deeper into the home, a space they're controlling together.

And still, they banter. Cause they're immature and adorable.

DEAN: "Don't look at me it was his idea."

Aside// The lantern and the beer bottles.

Here, we get another glimpse of their symbols. For Cas, it's this dark lantern on the table; it's been on the table "with him"on his side" since the very beginning of squatting in this house.

It symbolizes both Cas himself and this concept of Dean waiting for him. "Where have you been?"

The fact that this lantern is OUT is a callback to Cas's death, and a nod to his current fatalism.

///

Actually, the house they're squatting in IS pretty cute. The table they sit at together is cute. Here we have the two of them, mutually aching over their absent fathers... and reeling over the painful, complicated brokenness and betrayals with their respective brothers (Raphael, Sam).

The inside of this house is "dead and dusty," but there's new growth just peeking into the window. Greenness. Renewal.

This living room, where they're spending time together, also contains important Dean-Cas symbols: empty chairs, lanterns, and an unlit hearth.

While the two of them are trying desperately to fix their respective families, they're automatically carving out their own living space together, instinctually, almost without knowing or trying.

It's also funny that we see some of the strife that will color their relationship. It looks like Dean wound up doing a lot of waiting around, and he's irritated about it.

Note the prominently lit empty Cas-chair. While Cas runs off to do his suicidal Heaven errands, Dean waits up for him in a room with a hearth and a conspicuously placed lantern.

Cas appears in front of the stairs. Later, these stairs will be prominently lit by the only lit lantern in the entire house.

///

Here we go. Dean and Cas return to face off against Raphael in the house they've come to bond in—in a home they control. Now, the stairs are highlighted by a homey, welcoming light.

It's the only lantern on.

It leads upstairs to the bedroom, or it's a nod to "Heaven" if you prefer that reading.

But it seems to me that this light is conspicuous like, despite the storm and the power outage, these two are carrying a secret torch for each other, a nascent longing to cobble a life together.

Raphael's pyrotechnics are exploding all the lights except this one, after all. Perhaps the lighted stairs represent them as a Heaven-Earth unit, Heaven + home, the one who guards the door + and the one who lights the hearth:

///

And goodness, some of these images are lovely.

Raphael breaks the window, letting the storm into the little nook they'd carved for themselves.

The lantern and the beer bottle.

That's their table!

It's funny. It's almost like they instinctively gravitate to trying to fix/rebuild a home when they're together. They naturally want to fall into this weird... rhythm of life.

It's maybe a bit spooky for them, it maybe unnerves them, and they don't know what to do with that. They've both got so much baggage with their respective families that they mostly try to ignore it, and they get pissy and short with each other as a result of ignoring it and circling this...

...confusing thing.

[thestoryofella]

hii i love ur writing for steve and was wondering if u could write something about him changing bedsheets for an autistic reader ? maybe they're trying to cuddle and watch a movie or something but the reader can't focus/stop squirming ? certain textures/fabrics are very much sensory hell for me and i've had this problem a couple times and didn't want to be rude so i barely got any sleep lol

no pressure to write it ofc !! ty for reading :]

thank you for requesting; you’re my first request ever and I couldn’t wait to write this! I’m not on the spectrum but I do have adhd and am very familiar with sensory issues, so I tried to focus on those since I know them well. I hope that’s okay lovely!

warnings: fluff

steve harrington x reader ✿ 1393 words

You and Steve had been dating for three months and had the quintessential, imperative, and possibly relationship-changing date planned tonight: the sleepover. To put it plainly, you were terrified. You liked Steve, a lot. He was kind, thoughtful, and so handsome it made you wonder how you were dating him in the first place.

When you got to his house, you had packed the essentials: pajamas, a blanket, personal care items, and popcorn for your movie, of course. Despite being well-prepared, you couldn’t shake the nervousness from the first sleepover with a new significant other, or the butterflies in your stomach that you could only blame on your infatuation with your honey-eyed boyfriend.

Steve’s parents were out of town for the weekend, which thankfully allowed you to avoid the whole meet-the-parents situation, along with sharing the house. You packed your trunk and drove over to Steve’s house with some anxiety bubbling in your throat. When you pulled into his driveway, you prayed things went smoothly.

When you reached his front door, you only had to knock your fist on the door once before Steve opened it quickly. It appeared that he had been waiting for you, and he opened the door with a smile gracing his lips. He stood with one hand on his hip, and the other posed in a wave when he saw your face.

“Hi, honey,” he spoke, one hand reaching out to grab your backpack, and the other to grab yours. Your cheeks warmed at the thoughtfulness of his actions, not used to having someone so readily help you with heavy bags, or grab onto your hand so quickly.

“Hi, Stevie, how are you?” You asked genuinely, leaning up to peck him on the cheek. He smiled in return, leading you inside by your hand.

“I’m doing good; I’m just excited to spend some time with you,” He answered, tugging your hand after placing a gentle, delicate kiss on the back of it, and leading you to his bedroom. He hadn’t dropped your fingers since you walked in the door, his thumb now gently rubbing over your knuckles.

Steve quickly led you into his cozy bedroom. You had both agreed that watching a movie there would be more comfortable so you could fall asleep directly afterward. Upon entering, it was clear you didn’t need to bring any blankets, as Steve’s bed was piled with everything you could need for sleep.

He was already dressed in comfortable clothes wearing blue plaid pajama pants and a white wife beater that accentuated his strong biceps and revealed a peek of his brown, sparse chest hair and skin dotted with moles. He added your blanket to the mountain-high pile on the bed and plopped your backpack down on his floor. “Do you wanna go get changed?” He asked after taking in the sight of your day clothes, which probably weren’t very comfortable to watch a movie in.

You huffed, a bit disappointed by your lack of planning, wanting to immediately crawl into his arms and get comfortable. “I guess I should; give me a few minutes,” you said, a displeased sigh added to your words. Steve laughed in response to your obvious disdain and after digging through your backpack, threw your pajamas into your hands while putting the bag of popcorn you bought on the bed.

Walking into the bathroom, you got changed into your pajamas hurriedly, excited to watch a movie and cuddle with Steve. You had brought the most comfortable clothes you owned–though maybe not the cutest–a T-shirt that went down to your middle thigh and shorts that wouldn’t shift during the night. You hated when you woke up with your shorts in disarray, not arranged on your torso or hips correctly anymore.

After changing, you ran into Steve’s room, plopped down next to him, and got situated for the movie. You both sat next to each other on his bed, in relaxed positions. His arm was slung around your shoulder, lightly rubbing your scalp, and your head plopped onto his shoulder, breathing in his scent of vanilla, citrus, and woodsy musk. One of your legs was tucked under his, allowing his warmth to keep your frequently cold toes–wearing socks in bed was a cardinal sin–comfortably warm.

You guys decided to turn on The Princess Bride after deciding a horror or thriller movie was too intense, and after approximately one hour, you both had carefully shifted down the bed into a sleeping position. One of Steve’s hands was now thrown over your waist, the other under your midsection, and one of his legs was tucked in between yours as you tucked yourself into his chest, keeping you both warm.

Sleep had evidently taken over Steve; his breath hit your shoulder in warm, slow, even cycles. You could even feel his chest moving up and down behind you, and his hand on your waist had gradually gone from a grip to an effortless touch. The issue? You could not get comfortable. His sheets were so soft and grippy that they resembled a microfiber towel, seemingly sticking to every hair follicle on your leg, more similar to Velcro than bedding.

You tried to carefully shift to get more comfortable, tired, frustrated, and eyes heavy with sleep. When you shifted your midsection though, you accidentally put more weight than intended down and pressed hard on Steve’s hand.

Stirring, he lifted his head and chest a bit in response to your motion. Voice heavy, muffled with sleep, and eyes squinted, he yawned briefly and then asked, “You okay, sweetheart?” Reaching up to rub his groggy eyes with one hand and gently grabbing your pointer finger with the other.

You hesitated. You were so tired, but you also didn’t want him to get upset with you. Although you were comfortable with Steve, and he had given you no reason to not trust him, three months isn’t a long time to be with someone. Ultimately, after taking a moment to think, you decided to tell him the truth. After all, Steve had always been so receptive to listening to your complaints in the past concerning clothes, loud sounds, and overstimulating social scenes.

“I’m okay, I just can’t seem to get entirely comfortable. The sheets keep sticking to my legs,” you spoke quietly, slightly embarrassed at your confession.

Steve almost immediately sat up at the confession, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “You should’ve told me sooner! I’ll be right back.” He hurriedly got out of his bed. In the distance, you heard a closet open and close, as well as his footsteps, heading back to the room. When he came back, he had his arms full of new sheets which he put down on top of the duvet.

Reaching his hand out, he grabbed onto your fingers and pulled you up, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll be quick,” he spoke earnestly, proceeding to wrap your shoulders with a stray blanket to keep you warm while you stood.

Stripping the bed, he quickly pulled down the blankets and ripped off the old sheets. “I stole my parents' expensive sheets; they should be a lot more comfortable,” he spoke, offering you a toothy grin while you stood next to the bed, slightly embarrassed by his actions.

It took him only a few minutes to replace the sheets and throw the duvet cover back on. When he finished, he promptly hopped back into his previous spot, making himself comfortable. For a second, you were worried he was a little bit upset, but when he pulled the blanket up for you, an invitation to nestle back into his chest and get some rest, you felt a strong sense of relief.

You hopped back in bed next to him, returning to your previous positions. He tucked his arm back under your torso, nestled his head into the crook of your neck, wrapped his remaining arm around your front, and stuck one of his legs comfortably and loosely between yours.

“Try to get some rest now,” he spoke, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, loosely interlocking his hand under your torso with your own. You fell asleep to the feeling of his chest rising and falling, comfortably warm, and confident you had the best boyfriend in the world.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 6

Yes, my darlings, you read that right. I promised I would get back on this one once I was done with In the Midnight Hour and admittedly I did get side tracked for a week doing the Valentine’s fics, once that was out of my head I have written almost 7000 new words for this story. I went from half way through this one to a few hundred words into part 10. So yeah. Expect to see this one updated fairly regularly. I haven’t given up on Star Child I’m just trying to decide which direction the next part should take.

Also on the tagging, I HAVE REACHED MY HARD AND FAST LIMIT OF 50. I love the response this story has gotten. I do. I love you all. I love every reply, like, and reblog. It brings me so much joy, you don’t even know. But tagging is hard for my ADHD brain. I have gone up from 20 to 30 and finally 50 as my system improved but I think if I do any more than that I’ll go insane. So any future tagging requests will be ignored. Sorry.

The best way to keep update on these stories is follow me and set me on notifications. I rarely do a lot of reblogging these days (too busy churning out stories like whoa), so more often then not a post will be a story. I try to post at least once a day (some times twice if I’m trying to rush through the posting a bit like I did to make sure the Valentine fic got out in time without making people wait on Vamp!Eddie), just never at set time.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

*

They all met up by the fountain in the middle of the mall. Eddie was bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously.

“You sure he’s going to come?” Jeff asked.

Eddie tried to peer around the crowd. “That’s what he said.”

And then they spotted him. He was in a nice red sweater with a white polo underneath and fitted jeans. Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth in appreciation.

But then he noticed the gaggle of children following behind him. And what a gaggle it was. It consisted of Red, his new best friend, another girl with a thousand yard stare. The tall black kid must be the Sinclair boy. The remaining three were also very interesting. There was the short curly haired kid with no front teeth. The last two were both dark haired, but the one on the right was darker. Hair and attitude, judging from the rounded shoulders and down cast expression of the other boy.

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I’m late. Dustin called asking me to take him to the arcade, only when I told him that I was going to the mall, suddenly they all wanted to come.”

“And then I got roped into this because they wouldn’t all fit in Steve’s car,” a voice called from the back.

The person jostled his way to stand next to Steve. Jonathan clasped Steve on the shoulder. “I gave Will money to call me when you’re done so I can pick up him and El. Make sure he doesn’t spend it on the gumball machine.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, man. I’ll see you later.”

Jonathan nodded and waved goodbye to everyone, but especially the timid one. Which Eddie figured must have been Will.

“Your children, I presume?” Eddie asked, eyeing the thirteen year-olds warily.

“Yup,” Steve said with a put on expression. He pointed to each of them in turn. “That’s Dustin, Mike, Will, Lucas, Max and El.”

Eddie did the same to his friends. “I’m Eddie, these are Jeff, Gareth, and Brian. Or collectively, the band Corroded Coffin.”

“That’s bitchin’,” El said with a smile.

Steve ducked his head as he tried not to laugh.

“Hell yeah, it is,” Jeff said, taking an immediate liking to her.

“All right,” Steve said, turning to the kids. “You are to stay in pairs at the very least. And you know who your partners are. Will and Mike, Max and El, and Dustin and Lucas. Regardless of what you are doing, you will meet up here at 2pm. No later. I have plans with these guys at three and I’m not going to be late because of you guys a second time.”

There were a lot of eye rolls but everyone agreed to meet at the fountain at two.

Once they had left, Steve turned back to see that all four of them were struggling not to laugh.

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Go ahead and laugh. Because fuck knows it’s hilarious.”

So they promptly burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” Gareth wheezed. “It was like watching ducklings.”

“Yes!” Eddie agreed. “My dude, I hope you are charging their parents for this.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not like I need the money.”

They all just shook their heads.

Eddie clapped his hands together and rubbed. “Right, Stevie, this is how it is going to go. You’ll have one hour to get the most outrageous gift. Ten dollar maximum.”

“Each person or total?”

“However you want to swing it,” Jeff said. “But forty bucks is a lot.”

Steve nodded. “I guess my one concern is that I don’t know you guys very well and I don’t want to offend anyone.”

“So take Eddie with you,” Gareth said. “And then for the last ten minutes split off to buy something for each other.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “that could work. What do you say, Stevie?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Every one but Steve set a timer on their watches. Steve’s wasn’t a digital one, so he couldn’t.

“On your marks, get set,” Brian said. “And go!”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and suddenly he was being dragged along.

Steve giggled. “Where to first?”

“We are going to Suncoast,” Eddie said with a grin. “It’s the best place for all your metalhead needs.

“Lead on, MacDuff!” Steve said with a grin.

Eddie finally let go of Steve’s hand as they neared the store.

“I found out in drama that a lot of the sayings and words we use today are because Shakespeare couldn’t find the right word and made them up,” Steve said nervously.

“Wait, really?” Eddie asked, coming to a complete stop. “Like what?”

“Well, ‘Lead on, MacDuff’,” Steve said, “just for starters. It’s from Macbeth. Green eyed-monster. Just loads that I can’t think of off the top of my head.”

Eddie stood there for a moment blinking. “If they had taught that in English, I think would pay more attention.”

Steve laughed. “I know, right?”

They entered the store and everything had a dark red neon glow to it and it was clearly separated between the movie part of the store and the music part of the store. It was almost jarring. The movie part was dark like the inside of a movie theater. The music part was well lit and almost sterile white in its design.

They wandered around the music section. And they stopped by the minuscule instrument section. It had mostly accessories but also a couple of guitars. Mostly acoustic but one or two electric as well.

“This is pitiful,” Steve said staring at the selection.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, dude,” Eddie said. “There is an actual record shop with a full on instrument section. But that is not the point of this.”

Steve stopped by the drumsticks. “Gareth is the drummer right?”

Eddie nodded.

“I’ve been to a couple of concerts and I saw that the drummer had a bucket of sticks...”

“Are you asking if you should get Gareth more drumsticks?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded. “Go for it.”

“What’s his favorite color?” Steve asked.

Eddie frowned, but Steve pointed to the drumsticks on display and the had all sorts of different colors and patterns.

“The black ones with the flames on them, for sure.”

Steve grinned and picked them up. They got a couple more things here, but it was time to move on.

They hit up the stationary store, the weird little shop that sold incense and little Egyptian figurines, and Hammond’s Toys.

As they were passing Shapiro’s on their way to Hammond’s Toys, Steve found his gift for Eddie. It took every bit of will power not to just rush back and grab it, afraid it would be gone by the time he got back.

Eddie came up to him. “All right, Stevie. This is where we have to part ways. We only have ten minutes left and we need to get each other something, too.”

Steve smiled and nodded. He doubled back to Shapiro’s and quickly bought it. He raced to the fountain to be there first. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, his packages tucked under his legs so people wouldn’t steal them.

It wasn’t long before the others started showing up. Brian showed up first.

“How the hell did you beat me, man?” he asked as he sat down next to Steve. “I’m always the first to arrive.”

Steve blushed. “I got lucky.” He was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Brian eyed him suspiciously. “And you got a present for everyone?”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded.

Gareth was the next to show up. “Now that’s just embarrassing. Being beaten by Brian is one thing, he’s a shopping guru. But Steve Harrington, too? However will I get over the shame?”

Jeff laughed from behind him, having just shown up himself. “You’ll live.”

Eddie was the last to arrive showing up exactly at the hour.

“Ooh,” Jeff teased. “By the skin of your teeth. Is Steve-o here really that hard to buy for?”

Eddie grabbed his knees, panting for breath. “No,” he huffed. “Just on the other side of the fucking mall.”

“So,” Gareth said turning to Steve. “Now for the next phase of our little get together. We meet up at my house at three and exchange gifts and play a one-shot.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Is that like a D&D thing?”

“Yup!” Brian said gleefully rubbing his hands together. “It a story meant for a single day instead of multiple days like a campaign.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “We roll up quick character that are meant to die and just go to town no real rules. Just fun.”

Steve nodded. “Sure I could do that.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got twenty minutes before the kids show up.”

The other three backed away slowly.

“Yeah,” Jeff said, “we aren’t going to wait for that mob.”

“Oh, hell no,” Brian agreed. “I’m sure they’re great kids and all but I have three younger siblings, if I wanted chaos, I’d hang out with them.”

“Middle schoolers, man,” Gareth said, “are the plague of the earth. See you at three.”

Steve laughed. “Agreed on all accounts. I see you at Gareth’s. I’ll get the address from Eddie.”

The three boys walked off, shoving and pushing each other, laughing as they made their way to the exit.

“So what about you?” Steve asked. “You going to run before the hoard gets here?”

Eddie laughed. “I should. Leave you to the wolves.” He grinned. “But nah. I want to properly meet the kids that Steve the pied piper of Hawkins has taken under his wing.”

Steve blushed. “I wouldn’t call myself that. They barely listen to me.”

Eddie’s face softened. “I’m sure that’s not true. I bet the little sponges are just soaking up everything you tell them.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “That would explain the language problem.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “What language problem?”

“They swear like sailors.”

Eddie blinked a couple of time before he burst out laughing. “Having trouble not swearing around kids, Stevie?”

“You would be swearing too if you had to deal with them all the time,” he said with a shake of his head.

“So why do you do it?” Eddie asked.

Steve huffed out a sigh and kicked the side of the fountain with the heel of his foot. “Most of them don’t have great home lives. Except the Sinclairs, of course. Especially when it comes to caring adult men. I know what that’s like, so I try to be that for them.”

“Huh.”

Eddie didn’t have much time to comment on that because the first of the terrors had arrived.

The two dark-haired boys that seemed joined at the hip.

“Hey, Mike,” Steve greeted, “hey, Will. Did you already call Jonathan to come get you?”

Will nodded.

“Good,” Steve said. “Eddie here DMs for his friends.”

Both heads turned to him in shock.

“There is no way,” Mike said. “Steve would never be friends with someone who likes D&D.”

“Hey!” Steve protested. “I’m friends with you assholes!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Fine. Steve wouldn’t be friends with people his own age that play D&D.”

“Mike...” Will protested, speaking up for the first time. “What’s your favorite class?”

“Bard. It’s kinda self-insert type of thing,” Eddie said. “I play guitar, so I get the class. Um...second favorite would druid. I have a twelfth level druid named Kilmar Goatfiend in a campaign my club is doing right now.”

“You have a D&D club?” Dustin asked coming up from behind Will and Mike. “No way!”

“Yep!” Eddie said with pop of his lips. “The Hellfire club. Lenny Fitzpatrick is president this year. Next year, it’ll probably be Janice Montgomery.”

“You have a girl in your club?” Lucas asked, think of his sister Erika.

“Girls don’t play D&D,” Mike growled.

Steve hit him on the back of the head. “Oi! Your sister played. She’s the one that taught you. Show her some respect.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Nancy Wheeler plays D&D.”

“Did,” Will clarified. “She’s the one that gave me my wizard robes to DM in.”

“You dress up?” Eddie asked. “That’s so cool.”

Will blushed.

Just then girls arrived both of them eating ice cream cones.

Dustin spotted them and gasped. “You got ice cream cones?” He turned to Steve. “Why didn’t we get ice cream cones?”

Steve stood up and put his hands on his hips. “Because they saved their money and bought themselves ice cream cones?”

Max stuck out her tongue at him and El giggled.

“You better finish those up before you get into my car,” Steve said wagging his finger at them.

“Hey, I could take Max home,” Eddie said with a shrug. “I’m heading that way anyway.”

Steve looked at Max. “It’s up to you. You can go home with him or I could drop you off at Hopper’s and you and El can continue to hang out.”

Max thought about it for a minute. “I’ll think I’ll go home with Eddie and hang out with El tomorrow.” She turned to El. “Is that okay?”

El nodded. “I wanted to spend time with Will and Mike today.”

Mike blushed.

“What about you two?” Steve asked. “Where am I dropping you two off?”

Dustin and Lucas just shared a glance and shrugged.

“Well then you two can sort it out in the car,” Steve said and then turned to Eddie. “So what’s Gareth’s address?”

Eddie pulled out a pocket notebook and pen and scribbled out the address. “There you go, see you later, man.”

Steve took the piece of paper with a smile. “Do you always carry a notebook and pen with you wherever you go?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure, sometimes the muse will strike while I’m out and about so I need something to jot down lyrics or chord progressions as needed.”

“That’s sooo cool,” Mike said, a little star struck.

Will and Lucas looked over at each other and rolled their eyes. Eddie fought back a grin.

They split off, with Will, Mike and El, staying at the fountain to wait for Jonathan.

Part 7  Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19 Part 20  Part 21

@shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

[turtlecleric]

Imagine.

You've been friends with Rise Leo for so long, that you can't seem to remember a time when he wasn't there teasing you with his signature smirk.

It was always jokes with him. Puns. One liners. Horrible cringe pick-up lines. You name it, he'd say it.

Word play was the game and boy did he know how to play. The dumber they were, the harder you laughed.

You always seemed to be laughing around him. It felt…nice. Just to be silly, let the weight of your world roll off your shoulders just for one moment.

You guessed why that's why it was so easy for you to fall into a habit of teasing him back. Y'all both just needed a reason to laugh.

But…you weren't laughing now.

There, he stood in front of you, with that signature smirk on his lips, telling you that he had feelings for you.

That he ALWAYS had feelings for you; he just never had the words for it until now.

You tilted your head at that, your brow narrowing in confusion as you began to rub a hand nervously over your arm.

So you did what you always did. What he would always do when it came to uncomfortable feelings.

You brushed it off with a laugh, missing the way Leo’s hands flexed at the sound.

You looked up at Leo with a shaky smirk, mirroring his own face, your eyebrow quirked teasingly.

“This is a joke right? I'm missing the punchline here. You've never cared about serious feelings like this before, so why start now?”

Leo’s eyes widened slightly, his stomach sinking as he watched you shake your head with that disbelieving and exasperated smile that he had come to love so much.

His hands slowly curled into white-knuckled fists as he watched you literally laugh away his confession.

You thought… you thought this was a joke. That he wouldn't take these real feelings seriously.

Leo’s gaze narrowed as his attention sharpened into focus on you.

Very well then.

Leo would show you just how serious he could be.

Imagine.

All of those jokes, all of that teasing, that ADHD intellect, that strategy, that charisma and charm directed solely on you.

Imagine.

Every comment, every look, interaction and touch becoming calculated, purpose driven and direct.

Focused. On. You.

Imagine.

Leo wanting to show you what serious intention looks like.

Because it was NEVER a joke when it concerned you.

~Ninja

[brights-place]

Synth x s/o with panick attacks comfort? Love your writing your actually amazing :3

Synth comforting his S/o

Pairings: Synth X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Panic attacks, Anxiety

A/N: Synth is such an cutie I love him so much! GOD HE'S SUCH AN CUTE GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOY! I headcannon him with ADHD btw cause he shows some aspect and my friend also agreed on it

- You never cease to be surprised with synth with every day you spend together which is everyday as he discovers something new about you no matter how small and how you notice things about you too... even when how hard you try to hide your sadness and insecurities - Like I said Synth wasn’t the most emotionally aware troll so he finds it hard to understand your emotions sometimes

- It takes him awhile but he gets there just for you and just to see you smile again cause if your not smiling he wouldn’t know what to do. - Synth would stare at you confused as you were biting your lip while you both were at a rave - You weren't hyper or dancing with him so he noticed it quickly since you would always laugh with him dancing together but you weren't doing that - He just stared confused before taking your hand and pulling you away after nodding to trollex meaning Synth was gonna be helping you - He took you to an calmer area "(Name)- Uhm" He looked around nervously before making you sit down as you stared at the floor before tearing up "OH! I KNOW WHAT TO DO!" Synth said excitedly when seeing you tear up he swam off and came right back with items in his hands - He placed an seaweed blanket over you and handed you some of your favourite food - He just sits beside you waiting patiently but he is hearing the loudness of teh rave so he bops his head and smiles at you as you sniffle - You knew that The reason Synth likes raves so much is because he feels like it's the only time he can let loose and be free without worrying about anything else. He can let go of all his fears and anxieties and just have fun, knowing that everyone around him is doing the same. - Yet you couldn't help but relax that he was with you atleast - Synth paused and leaned in to you "sooo..." Synth started "Wanna talk about it?" Synth said taking your hand and lifting it up to cup his face as you smiled softly "No it would be a bother Honey" You muttered as Synth hummed leaning into your hand and smiling at you - You couldn't help but admire your lover. Synth always has a big smile on his face, even when things are difficult, and he can often be the light in the darkness... He is the sun to your moon - He reminds you that things will get better and that everyone has their own strengths and talents.

- He can see the beauty in everyone and always tries to highlight the best parts of each person.

- He never judges anyone for their past failures or mistakes, and he always seems to have the right thing to say to comfort them... and thats what he is doing right now trying his best to comfort you - You let out a sigh as synth cuddled you and join you in the seaweed blanket "I dont know... I just feel overwhelmed... you know?" Synth stared listening the best he could even with His ADHD you knew he was doing his best - His large doe eyes stared at you like an golden retriever smiling up at their owner - Synth stared listening as you ranted to him about how you were feeling this whole week. You felt drained and tired and you weren't feeling good yet you didn't know why you felt drained and tired - Synth is always there for you aka lover when you needed someone to talk to or to comfort them. He listens without judgment and provides support, understanding, and affection for you - he just nodded listening as you relaxed as he cuddled into you and kissed your lips for an moment which relaxed you as he pulled away "I understand that!" you smiled "You do?" Synth nodded "I mean I'm hyper 34/7 365 days every year but there's always one day or some longer that makes me feel tired! but I always get back up! and so will you!" Synth said happily as you sighed - He nuzzled into you and kissed your cheek as you cupped your cheek that he kissed before giggling and turning to Synth peppering his face with kisses as he smiled happily

- He makes sure to treat your feelings as seriously as he would want his to he treated so he makes sure that you are pampered with kisses

- He is always willing to go out of his way to make you happy as he makes sure you are relaxed and calm

- Synth is also very sweet and affectionate and always makes sure to tell you how much he loves and appreciates you for dating him and how he appreciates you opening up to him

- As the rave music in the background was soft and quiet Synth stood up and sticked out his hand towards you "You may feel down but you know what makes me happy? and I think the same would work for you" Synth said as you laughed "Dancing to the beats in the background" You replied raising an brow chuckling as Synth nodded quickly - You took his hand as he smiled bopping up and down as you giggled joining him dancing to the techno music and vibing together as you smiled at how he was hyper and always made sure to kiss your cheek when you were close beside each other while dancing - You knew synth isn't that great with emotions but he was doing his best and cared for you and you wouldn't change it at all. - Him just being there with you and smiling while making sure your hyped up with the music is enough for you too know that he loves you and wants you to fight of these feelings with something he knew that could make you feel better.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 7: Into the Bear's den

Words: 6.3 k (cause apparently I don't know how to write short chapters)

Summary: You're offered a new job and Carmy opens up about his past.

a/n:So we're getting close to the final line and i've never finished anything ever (cause adhd) so i don't know what to do with myselffff.

You cracked your knuckles again and glanced down at your watch nervously, for what seems like the fifth time in ten minutes. The view from the window beside the table where you sat gave sight to rustling leaves and little butterflies floating in the midday wind. You looked back down at your phone and reread your friend’s text, ‘Be there in 15’. 

It surprised you to see her name across your screen a few days back, asking if you could finally talk around lunch on Wednesday, and it was an even bigger one that you had agreed. You had practically cut off everyone after what happened at your old job, you didn’t want to tarnish her reputation too and drag her down with you. So you stopped answering calls and texts hoping she’d get tired of not hearing from you and just give up. Now as you sat in the small restaurant waiting for her, you knew how ineffective that plan had been.

You heard the small ding of the entrance bell and rose your head up to find her walking in your direction. 5 '9 and too strong for her own good, Joyce lifted you from your seat in a bone crushing hug. Your arms dangled at your side for a few seconds, but then moved them up her back as best you could.

“Joy, I can’t breathe.” You said, the sound muffled through the fabric of her dress.

She laughed softly and muttered a ‘Sorry, sorry’ before holding you at arm's length and staring down at you with a smile. Her face then fell slightly and she lifted her hand from your shoulder only to smack it back down on the exposed skin.

“Ah! What the hell!”

“Why didn’t you ever answer me?!” She questioned, a hint of hurt concealed in her ever present calmness.

You bit your lip in guilt and sat back down with her taking the place across from you. You both sat in silence while a nice waitress handed out the menu and offered drinks. Once she was gone with your orders, Joyce stared at you expectantly.

“So?”

Your view was trained on the slightly trembling fingers picking at your nails. The words were all an endless jumble inside your head, there was so much you wanted to say but they all pushed at the same time and nothing seemed to come out. She placed a well manicured hand above yours and softly called your name.

“I went to your house and everything. Your mom said you wouldn’t even leave your room. I think she was mad or something cause she didn’t even let me in.”

You let out a humorless laugh and finally look up to comforting green eyes. “Yeah, uhm… she thought you knew.. that he was.. y’know.”

“God no! Barely even knew the guy before that.” She squeezed your hands in hers. “Trust me, hun. If I would have known, I would have stopped it from the beginning.”

“Yeah-no, I know.” You gulped down and waited until the waitress was done serving your drinks before speaking.

“I really am sorry,” You whispered “I didn’t mean to scare you with the whole goodbye text and then just disappear like that.” You took a sip of your drink and Joyce gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I think I just needed time to… process it all.”

“And did you?” She asked, concern looming over her eyebrows.

“Yeah… I feel like I have. I was mad at myself at first, I felt like such an idiot for not seeing it before, y’know? There were so many signs that I refused to notice cause I was so entranced with the idea that someone like him could lo-like me…” You focused your eyes on the other occupied tables to avoid her gaze. “I don’t believe it now, of course, but… I truly thought he was good for me.” 

You were both silent for a moment, the words floated around you like the butterflies you saw outside, finally free from the confinements of your chest. It felt nice, to be able to admit what you had kept down for so long, especially to someone who you knew wouldn’t hold it against you.

“Then I was angry at him.” You continued. “Because who does that shit, Joyce? I mean, you have to be really fucked in the head to make someone believe you’re wife’s been dead for two years, jesus.” She let out a small laugh along with you, the situation too crazy to seem remotely believable. 

“It wasn’t your fault…”Joyce’s voice grew serious after a short silence. ”You left as soon as you found out, despite what you felt for him, you left. I need you to understand that’s the best you could do.”

“I know..” You reassured her.

The waitress arrived with great timing, placing a bread basket in the center then two bowls with tomato soup as your entreé. You stirred it slowly with your spoon, head concentrated with the recollection of emotions that used to burden you but now didn’t feel as heavy.

“So…How do you feel now?” She asked, letting go of your hand to grab her own drink.

You sat on the question for a moment. If she would have asked you that a couple months ago, your reaction would be completely different, pissed off. You would’ve yelled every profanity that existed under the sun, cursed him out until your throat ran dry and your eyes stained your flushed cheeks salty. He was the reason you were unable to find another job in the area. When all the snobby rich ladies around Lincoln found out you were a ‘Homewrecker’, the news spread like wildfire and doors closed solely at the sight of your face. 

All the rejection had pushed you to your lowest point… though had it really?

You had found solace at The Beef. People you admired, who were hardworking and kind despite the blows of life. And you had also met Carmy. Sweet, adorably fucked up Carmy, the sultry ocean current guiding your adrift boat home.

A loving smile unrolled on your lips. “Happy.” You said, scrunching up your nose and a small relaxed laugh left your mouth.

Joyce’s expression mirrored your own, she reached again for both your hands and rubbed her thumb over the back of yours.

“I actually… met someone” You confessed, cheeks ablaze.

“Hun, that’s great!” She gushed, giving your hands another rub. “Show me, show me!”

You laughed at her excitement and pulled out your phone, swiping through your pictures. You found your favorite, one from last week at the end of your grandpa’s birthday. The photo was shaky but you could still make out Carmy's profile as he gave your temple a chaste kiss. You could also see your beaming smile, eyes scrunched up in happiness. You passed the phone to Joyce and dug into the lukewarm soup.

She stared at the screen with raised brows for a couple seconds, flicked her gaze to you then back to the screen.

“You’re dating him?” She asked in a mixture of surprise.

You swallowed slowly and nodded at her. “You know him?”

“Yeah.. I wrote a column about him sometime last year. Big deal in the culinary scene in NYC. Won a James Beard award, or something like that.” She handed your phone back and pulled out her own. 

You were taken back by the sudden information. Sure, from your time working with him you had noticed he was good, great even, but a JB? That shone a new light to the already present question, what was he doing at The Beef?

“I knew it! See?” Your friend turned the screen to you.

It was an article from December last year. He was standing with his back straight and hands locked behind his pristine white coat, hair combed like you'd never seen, almost glistening from the amount of product. He’s thin, the bulky arms you'd grown to love hidden behind long sleeves, eyes decorated with heavy bags that made your stomach churn. It was him, Carmy. Your Carmy, but different. Like if the picture had only captured his vessel but not the soul, he stood separate from the nine cooks behind him with an air of arrogance clawing at his stand. 

‘Carmen Berzatto: The Artist Behind the Best Restaurant in The World’ Read the article in bold menacing letters.

You handed Joyce her phone back, slightly puzzled but didn’t let it show on your face.

“We had dinner at the restaurant and everything. His shit’s like, stupid good. You really didn’t know?” She asked.

You shrugged while putting another spoonful in your mouth, reducing the importance of the situation, though the small ache bothering your chest might say otherwise. You decided to push it back until you're able to ask him subtly.

“He’s not the bragging type.” You answered nonchalantly. 

“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy. How’d you meet him anyway?”

Over the course of lunch, you updated her on the past months, your time at The Beef, everything with Carmy and how you were now unemployed but had gotten something pretty good out of it.

“Honestly, I would’ve chosen dick over a job any day too.” She said and had you grinning from side to side.

“And it was in the middle of his kitchen too...” You mumbled before taking another drink and her eyes grew wide with excitement.

“Look at you, little freak!” Joyce joked and your chest bloomed with laughter.

It felt like a breath of fresh air to joke again with her, like nothing had changed in the last months and you were still as close as ever. Joyce was your oldest friend after all, and she proved to be the strongest when despite how the situation had unraveled she still stood by your side. 

“So what have you been up to now that you're a burden to society?” 

“Nothing really. I’ve been painting a lot to pass the time but my savings are almost running dry so I have to start looking soon.”

“Have you thought ‘bout getting something outside of cooking?” She asked curious.

You had. It was just an idea of course, but the more you thought about it, the more appealing it seemed. Sure you loved cooking and the everpresent bustle of working in a restaurant, there was something about the rush that kept you on your toes, but a part of you wanted to slow down. If only you didn’t need money to survive, then you could take the time to pursue something else.

“I mean I have, but I don’t know what it would be.” You juggled the idea in your head. “Besides, it's the only thing in my resumé and I don’t think anyone would hire me in another field with zero experience.”

Your gaze fell back down to the white tablecloth, it had been cleared and only your half empty glasses remained. Joyce had been quiet for a while and you looked up to find a smile inching up her cheeks.

“What?” You asked cautiously.

“I know someone.” She stated matter-of-factly.

“You know someone that what?”

“Hire you! Keep up!”

You looked at her with a blank expression. “Joy, I love you, but I would make a very shitty writer.”

“Not with me, I suck at being a boss.” You rolled your eyes, but agreed. “I meant with Jeremy’s aunt. She’s got a gallery in River North where she teaches painting classes to kids. She’s pretty old so she’s been looking for someone to help her out.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to call your future aunt-in-law old.” She waved her hand dismissively. “What if I’m not good enough or say something and fuck up the kids?”

You wanted to remind her about the last time she convinced you to take a job, but preferred to avoid the subject altogether. “I don’t want anyone to blame you for recommending me when I screw up.” You answered instead.

“Dude, please give yourself some credit. I’ve seen your work, it’s really good.” Your cheeks flared up at the compliment, “And I’m sure she’ll like you too, she’s a sweetheart. Plus, how hard could it be teaching kids how to paint?”

A velvety sensation stirred in your stomach as you contemplated the idea. There wasn’t really much to contemplate, it was a great opportunity and  one that not many people get without experience. So you swallowed down the nerves that mixed with your self doubt and nodded  happily towards her. She let out an excited squeal and reached out to hug as much of your shoulders as she could with the table in between you.

You left the restaurant with your arm locked around hers as she updated you on the past months of her life, your future job and all the planning she had been doing for the upcoming wedding. It was difficult for her enthusiasm not to rub off or even harder to ignore the glowing specks of light that appeared in her eyes when she spoke lovingly of her feancé. You wondered silently if your eyes glimmered with similar joy when you spoke of Carmy.

**********

Teaching children how to paint was, in fact, only slightly hard, but nothing you couldn’t manage after the first week. There were only six kids per class and only two one hour and a half classes from five to eight p.m. Most of the kids were older than nine so they were pretty calm, except for the day you decided to bake cookies for them and swore one had even burnt a hole through his sneakers from all the running he did. 

Mrs Marjorie, Jeremy’s aunt and not as old as Joyce had made her out to be, just leaned laughing by the railing upstairs while she enjoyed the show the children were putting on. Taylor Swift playing on the speakers seemed to calm them for some reason, and after a small impromptu dance party, you reminded yourself to pass by the bodega on your way home and pick up sugar-free choco chips for the next batch.

The gallery itself was one of the oldest in the area. It rested in the corner of the street, with high glass walls that allowed the natural lighting to illuminate the two floors inside. Most of the exposed brick was covered with framed paintings, with the right  and back walls harboring enough works to almost reach the tall ceiling. The bottom floor was separated into different areas, first the main lobby where the works were sold. Past that was the showroom, an ‘H’ shaped maze divided by white walls that displayed the series of paintings chosen for that month, and behind  that was an open space for the painting classes, near the back window wall. 

The second floor was half the size of the first, with a metal railing along the perimeter instead of walls, so you were able to keep an eye on the bottom half. It was the perfect mixture of a Victorian and maximalist library. Tall bookshelves stood against the walls, decorated by flourishing plants in unique pots. Old leather couches divided the library from a small employee kitchen, equipt with a microwave and fridge. 

Your favorite part, however, was the back. Long shelves that seemed to go on forever amidst a stretching white corridor, sheltering all kinds of sculptures and paintings carefully wrapped to avoid damage. Beside the emergency exit rested a studio, complete with paints, easels, unfitted frames and an industrial roll of canvas fabric. Everyone was allowed to use it as long as it didn’t interfere with your activities. The whole place smelled of paint thinner, old books and wood. Add the endless supply of chamomile tea, and you couldn’t be happier.

You were busy stirring the honey into your tea while also keeping an eye on the floor below, since almost everyone had gone out for lunch. With the steaming cup in hand, you carefully walked back down and began preparing your station for the first class of the afternoon. You carried out the easels from the back and unfolded them in a semi circle facing against the lighting, then entertained yourself rearranging the paint cart that the kids loved to misplace. You also brought out their works in progress and as you placed each one on the wooden base, you admired the different creative takes each child took with the reference image. 

Thirty minutes before the first class, you had everything set and the paint splattered apron already fastened at your waist, when you heard the light ‘ding’ of the bell over the entrance door. You stepped out from behind the exhibitions and in your line of vision, Carmy stood with his back to you, head slightly tilted while he analyzed one of the abstract paintings by the entrance. You smiled at the way his shoulders seemed to loose tension when he wasn’t at the restaurant, then with light footsteps moved to stand behind him, stood on your toes and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’m good at understanding art.” He said with eyes still trained on the frame. his head now rested softly on yours.

“It’s abstract, everyone sees something different in it.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you see?” He asked and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to stand in front of him with his chin now resting on your head.

You hummed gently as your eyes swiped over the canvas of swirling oranges and soft greens. “ A sunset, maybe a flower bed. You?”

He stood silent for a few moments. “A… giant lemon.” He answered more like a question and an involuntary snort shook your chest at his answer. “See, I told you I was shit!”

“No, no you’re right! Now that you say it, I kinda see it” You agreed, turning to snake your arms under his and hugging his waist. “That is definitely a lemon.” You whispered up to him.

He let out a breathy laugh at your answer, then leaned down slightly and pressed his warm lips to your forehead.

“Brought you lunch.” He said between kisses, pulling out a sandwich, from the pocket of his jacket, tightly wrapped in aluminum foil. “It’s sweet n’ spicy with extra pickles.”

“Ooh, my favorite, thank you!” 

A shy but proud smile covered his lips, knowing he had your order completely memorized from the few times you’d take dinner home.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” You took his hand and took a single step further into the gallery.

“Wait, I can’t. I left Syd in charge and-uhm, I’ve got this.. this thing I have to get to… sorry.” He scratched at his nose by habit and rubbed his thumb along your soft skin as he felt your hand loosen its grip.

If you felt slightly disappointed, you’d rather not let it show. Instead covering it with a closed smile. It had been a while since you’d seen him. Between getting accustomed to a new routine and Carmy’s already hectic one, it was hard to find mutual free time that wasn’t just covered by a phone call after closing shop. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t at least a little crestfallen at not seeing him as much as you were used to, but you also understood that this was the way adult relationships worked, schedules didn’t always match.

You also still had your conversation with Joyce in the back of your head and no amount of begging Syd to tell you was enough to make her budge. The thought of having to ask him yourself made your stomach uneasy, but it was something you needed to do… 

Just maybe not at that moment, though.

“Oh, yeah, no prob.” you answered instead. “I have to finish setting up for the kids anyway.” You pointed with the sandwich to the already set up station. ‘But he doesn’t need to know that’ you thought.

“Shit, right. My bad.” He scrunched his eyes closed and gave a single nod and you could tell his thoughts were getting to him.

You stepped into his space and placed a lingering kiss, long enough to pull him from his head, while rubbing soothing circles into his hand.

“Thank you for lunch.” You whispered, then pecked his nose. 

He stared down at you for a few seconds, eyes the clearest blue you had ever seen.

“Are you hungry?” He asked out of nowhere.

You looked at him with furrowed brows but with a smile, head tilted in confusion as you raised the sandwich and slowly shook it.

He let out a soft breath that fanned your warm cheeks.

“No, I mean…Can I make you dinner? Tonight” He asked again, eyes glistening brightly under the filtering sunrays.

Your cheeks grew painful from the force of your smile and you nodded enthusiastically at him. His expression mirrored yours, hand holding tightly onto your own.

He kissed you one more time after promising to pick you up around nine, then left in a rush through the crystal doors in direction to wherever he was going. You stood there for a moment, a strange sense of worry bubbling up, but with a heavy breath you decided to credit it to the persistent questions in your mind. You walked back up to reheat your now cold cup of tea then left the sandwich in the fridge. It was almost time for the kids to arrive and since most liked to be there early, you would only be able to take a bite or two before having the little parrots telling you about their day.

Almost like clockwork, the bell dinged again the moment you placed the cup on the desk and little footsteps echoed their way to your direction. 

“Ms. F, you will not believe what Sasha said to me today?!”

**********

There was something you liked about buying groceries with someone that made it feel familiar, almost home-y. The simple action of walking hand in hand through the tightly packed corridors while throwing around ideas on what to make for dinner brought a calmness to your soul that you had not known before. To any outsider you were simply a couple meeting up after work, stocking up on the produce that you would then take to your shared home. And maybe for the half hour that you were in the store, you’d let yourself believe that too. Let the domesticity of it all embrace you as Carmy dragged you through the isles, absentmindedly mumbling to himself on the ways he could use every product he picked up.

You wondered what you would see if you could look inside his head. It would probably look like the office back at The Beef but infinitely.

“So you’re not gonna tell me what you’re makin’?” You asked for the third time on the car ride to his apartment, the bag of groceries he refused to let you pay for resting on the floor between your feet.

He let a soft laugh blow through his nose, then with eyes still on the road, he reached his right hand out to you and threaded his finger between yours. It was a quiet ride, the soft music from the radio filling in the comfortable silence.

“D’you like chicken?” He asked after a while.

“As pets or food?” You asked, teasing him. 

“Uh.. food… I hope.” He answered with a laugh.

“If I say pets, would that ruin your idea for dinner?”

“No” He answered simply, a soft smile covering his lips. “But I’ve been told foxes like chicken, so I think I’m in the clear.” 

A chuckle escaped his mouth when he saw your eyes grow bigger on your face and the redness on your cheeks match the stoplight above. He pulled your hand to his lips when a groan left yours.

“Fuckin’ hell…was it Joshua or my grandpa?” 

Carmy hummed ignoring your question and let go of your hand to finish parking the car. 

“C’mon! I gotta know if I have to beat the little shit.”

“You know what they say, snitches get stitches.”

“Yeah and in this case, he’s the snitch” You grumbled. 

He killed the engine then took your bag from the back seat, swung it over his shoulder and exited the car. In a few seconds he was by your side opening the door while you carried the bag of groceries. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” He said, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and walking through the building doors. “ I got stuck with Bear.” 

You liked Bear, to you it sounded quite appropriate. You had heard Fak and Richie call him that once or twice but never asked where it had come from.

“I like Bear, it suits you.” You looked up to see the pink hue creep up his neck, then looked forward again to finish climbing the stairs.

You reached a door at the end of the hallway and he searched for his keys in the back pocket of his jeans. “Sorry for the mess, by the way.” He said nervously, putting the key in the hole and turning it.

You reassured him with a ‘S’okay’ and a soft rub on the back. He extended his arm to let you walk in first then closed the door behind him and turned on the lights.

The room was illuminated by the soft white light of the hallway and as you walked further into his space you corrected yourself, this was definitely what the inside of his head looked like. With small mountains of cooking books occupying every flat surface, an ashtray filled to the brim on the coffee table and pictures of people you hadn't met yet hanging on his small living room walls. 

“It’s not much but it’s… yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck in anticipation for your review.

You scanned the room once more, inhaling the scent of coffee and cigarettes that felt completely him, then turned with the bag in your arms and smiled. That seemed to be enough of an answer for him as his chest deflated from the pressure of his sigh and he walked to place a soft kiss over your hair.

“C’mon, or we’ll be havin’ dinner by midnight.” He joked, taking the paper bag from your arms and guiding you to the small space of his kitchen, turning the lights on in the process.

Almost mechanically, he began taking the products out and setting them in a bowl to wash by the sink, then pulled out the chicken and placed it on a cutting board. You moved behind him rolling up your sleeves and turning on the tab to wash the groceries, avoiding his stare.

“What? I wanna help.” You mumbled.

But he only let you help with that, insisting that he invited you over for dinner. From blatant observation, you had learnt that food was his love language, so you didn’t protest when after cleaning the lemons, he took you by the shoulders and planted you on one of the stools on the other side of the small counter.

“Here, you can help me with this” He said, placing a bottle of white wine and a barely used corkscrew in front of you.

“Yes, chef” You answered sarcastically, only to see his hands slightly falter and his darkened gaze sweep over to you, filled with the all too familiar memories.

You bit the inside of your lip and continued with your task, trying to ignore the spark that his eyes had ignited.

Between light conversation, the humming of his stereo and occasionally distracting yourself flipping through one of his cooking books, you watched him work. Skilled fingers danced with precision over the handle of his knife as he julienned the garlic and added it to the sizzling pan with butter and capers. The room was drowned with the aroma of freshly squeezed lemon juice and the hissing of frying chicken. 

He moved around with perfected ease, no hunched up shoulders or erratic movements like you would sometimes find him doing, like if he were expecting for the restaurant to collapse into itself at any given moment. No, this Carmy was in control, precise, doubtless. This is the Carmy you could imagine working for the top restaurants in New York, the one with the slicked back hair and rigid posture on the article Joyce had shown you. 

The haunting image of sleepless dull eyes flashed in your mind for a brief second, but it was enough to pull you from your thoughts. That and a short glass half filled with wine that Carmy slid to you. You lifted your head from your resting palm to thank him and took a sip from the glass as he poured himself one then added a splash of the liquid into the pan.

“So- uh,” You swallowed the tasteful liquid. “There’s something I wanna ask you.” You began.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He asked and turned your way with raised brows.

“So a friend of mine-”

“Wait, try this for me?” He interrupted, taking a spoonful of the sauce from the pan and carefully placing it in front of you, cupping the bottom to avoid spillage.

You leaned on the counter with your elbows and blew on the hot metal before placing it in your mouth. You swirled it around your tongue, the acidity of the capers exploding in your mouth and triggering a smile. He brought his hand up to your face, tilting your chin up to him and rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip before leaning down and kissing it. It somehow made the sauce taste ten times better.

“That is delicious, chef..” You breathed, the compliment filling his chest.

He let go of your chin and turned back to the stove, to stir the pan.

“Sorry, you were sayin’ somethin’…?”

“Right- yeah…” you cleared your throat to get your thoughts back on track. “My friend Joyce, she’s a writer for Food & Wine, in New York…” His head shot in your direction and you could instantly see the shift in his features as the words left your mouth, but it was too late to stop them. “and when I saw her a couple weeks ago, she showed me an article from last year that she wrote about you- which is pretty cool n’ all- but it kinda made me wonder… H-how come you never talk about New York?”

Carmy cleared his throat and turned the stove off, the sizzling sound dying down slowly, then he rested both hands against the edge, muscles flexed and eyes darting around your face. You were thankful for the music filling in the otherwise insufferable silence.

“I-I dunno I jus’...guessed you didn’t wanna hear about it.”

“Why?” You asked confused. 

He shrugged lightly, distracting himself by plating the chicken and adding the minced parsley and some Parmesan on top. He slid both plates over on the counter and you held his hand before he could turn around. 

“You know I really care about you, right?” You searched for his gaze, but his eyes were focused on the dishes in front of him. “And if… whatever this is, is gonna work out, then maybe we can tell each other this kinda stuff… even the ugly, no?”

You reached your hand up slowly to his cheek, then when his eyes finally met yours, your stomach dropped to the floor. Sullen wide eyes bore into your own, a mournful expression that you had only seen flashes of before. He nodded in agreement, hand cupping the one on his cheek and turning to kiss the base of your palm. 

“No-yeah, you’re right…You’re right.”

You rubbed his cheek with your thumb for a few more seconds before he turned to get two sets of silverware then rounded the counter and sat on the stool beside you. You ate in silence for a while, only letting him know how delicious the food had turned out; then halfway through your plates, he took a sip of his wine to clear his throat and rubbed his palms along his thighs anxiously.

“Just, bare with me cause I’m not good with words, okay?” He took a breath, then began. “I-uhm… I was CDC at this really badass place. The food there was, god, it was… art is the only way to describe it. And the staff was disciplined and always on point, but the exec was an absolute dickhead. He would degrade and belittle and humiliate anyone for the smallest of mistakes, I think he got off on that shit cause not a day would go by when he wasn’t shouting on about how he was surrounded by idiots.”

Carmy took another sip from his glass and you reached out to place your palm over his resting on his thigh.

“You’ve probably met an idiot or two like that..” You gave him a sympathetic smile because he was right, though not at the level he seemed to describe. 

“Although, I think he took a liking to fuckin’ with me more than the others. I was used to it, y’know? Insecure fuckers who think you have it out for their job, it’s fine, you get used to it. Then the nominations for the JBF’s dropped and when he found out I got in and not him, it got much worse, like exponentially worse.”

His fingers jerked and wrapped a bit harder around yours, but despite the slight painful sting, you refused to let go.

“I would always be the first one there and last one to leave, I think I would get maybe… four hours of sleep, if I got lucky. Sometimes I would- um- I would throw up before work, probably some anxiety shit- I dunno- but it fucked with my stomach and made it hard to eat anything. I was miserable for those last few months there.”

He was silent for a moment, gaze fixed on the half eaten breast, but not entirely there.

“Why did you stay?” The question floated in the static air between you.

He took your hand in both of his, unsure fingers massaging the joints in yours to distract himself. You saw the remnants of little scars scattered around the hardened skin.

“The prestige, I guess. I liked… being good at something, the best actually.” He sneered in distaste. “I think I wanted my brother to know that I was good enough to work with ‘em.” He confessed.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes raked up from your joined hands to his mournful expression. A thin red tint outlined his droopy eyes.

“Y-you never mentione-”

“He shot himself in February.”

You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing you could say that would make the situation even remotely less terrible. Instead, you pulled your hand from his and wrapped your arms as much as you could around his frame. The soft shuddering of his heavy breaths blowing puffs on the side of your neck, where his face had buried.

It all clicked suddenly. The constant obsession of wanting- no- needing The Beef to succeed. How you had always thought Carmy had so much potential to just wither there. But it wasn’t wasted because he knew the industry, better than most ever did. He knew it with each persistent scar and cut on his arms, with each jab to the soul as they beat and battered him into pulp, when his only crime was possessing the talent they so desperately craved. He personally knew the limelight that many spend a lifetime chasing, and even if all that abuse had made him an outstanding cook, what he had lost in the process could never be regained.

You finally understood the desire he had for the beef to thrive, not only because he felt like he owed it to his brother but also as a big ‘fuck you’ to those motherfuckers that ever made him doubt himself.  

“I’m so sorry...” You whispered, because that’s all you could muster to say ‘Sorry for even asking’. 

“S’okay..” He whispered back.

“No it’s not, I shouldn’t have asked- it’s not my place-”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, placing a soft kiss over your hair.

“Hey, no you’re right, this is good for… us.” 

You pulled yourself from his embrace when the position had grown uncomfortable on your back, but still rested your head in the dip of his neck to stay close. 

“Thank you for telling me.”

His hand rubbed along the length of your arm as you both sat silently staring at your forgotten dinner. The rhythmic movements of his hand paired with the calm beats from his chest had your eyelids dropping every few seconds and an involuntary yawn filling your chest.

“D’you think I can stay over? ‘M too tired to make it home.” You asked, rubbing a bit of the sleep off your eyes.

Knowing you wouldn’t be finishing dinner, you began collecting the food in a single plate, then stood from the stool to stretch out your cramped muscles.

“Yeah- yeah sure. C’mon leave that, I’ll wash it up in the mornin’.” He said following behind you and taking the dishes from your hands, turning off all the lights and pulling you into the direction of his room.

While you took your sneakers off, he searched his drawers for a shirt and some bottoms for you to sleep in, then directed you into the bathroom where you changed and hoped that splashing a bit of water on your face counted as skin care for the night. You found Carmy already laying by the edge, hands relaxing on is head with eyes closed and if you weren’t so fucking tired, you would probably try to end the night in a more vigorous way. But as you crawled into the warm space beside him and he automatically pulled you into the direction of hhis arms, the tingling sensation that spread through your body when he kissed your forehead was way better than anything else.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest reminded you of the calm back and forth of the waves and you could almost hear the soft ocean breeze in his steady breaths.

“Thanks for letting me stay.” You mumbled with the last grains of consciousness you had left.

And it could have been the dream bleeding in through the cracks that let you hear a ‘You can stay forever if you’d like’ before losing yourself completely to the dark.

Chapter 8.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

[floral-force]

Hiiiiiii it’s me again to annoy you with another ask! Usually you see Din being the dense one not getting the hint about reader’s feeling for him, how about the other way round, denser than beskar, the reader just doesn’t pick up or getting on ANY of the hints or actions poor Din is doing ( which A Very shy Din think he’s doing a good job showing them about his intention ). Reader is someone just hitching a ride to Tatooine to stay with her Aunty Peli for a while. Thank you! <3

okay I am so sorry this took forever for me to respond to. my adhd brain is messy. I can only hope that my (fluffy) take on your request hits the spot. I think our tin can man definitely has the potential to be awkward and clumsy, and I love the thought of reader being oblivious. so, here it is!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Denser than Beskar - Oneshot

din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Your beskar-clad taxi pilot is an awkward man, and you decide it's due to his limited social interactions. Under the armor, a nervous Din Djarin thinks his flirting and hints are obvious. Will he be able to share his feelings before you're lost to the sands of Tatooine?

words: 2.2k+

warnings: none, but my blog is entirely 18+. no minors.

read on ao3 | fic masterlist

You sat in one of the co-pilot’s chairs in the Razor Crest, reading something on the datapad in your hands. The blue shades of hyperspace cast a rather soothing glow throughout the cabin, the gentle thrum of the engines an accompanist to your periodical yawns. You wiggled the toes of your boots from their perch on the edge of the control panel. A square button blinking red caught your tired eyes and you sighed, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. It was getting harder and harder for your eyes to stay focused on the glowing white letters, and you found yourself needing to reread sentences and, eventually, entire paragraphs.

A heavy rhythm of clangs on the ladder made you sit up straight and drop your feet to the floor. You’d already been scolded once before for resting your boots on the control panel and didn’t intend on making the same mistake twice. The Mandalorian walked behind you, rummaging around for something, metal clanging around and distracting you even more from your reading. He let out a modulated, frustrated huff that was quickly replaced with a satisfied hum after a few moments. A gloved hand brushed across your shoulder and the back of your neck, sending a shiver up your spine. You kept your eyes trained on your blurry datapad, furrowing your brow.

Your beskar-clad taxi pilot sat in his worn chair in front of and to the left of yours, a grunt making you turn your head. He was bent forward over the control panel, a screwdriver turning in his steady hand. 

“What’re you doing?” You inquired, holding your datapad in your lap, cheek still resting in your palm.

He startled and the tool went sideways, a loose screw falling to the ground and rolling towards your feet. You bent over to pick it up, and his fingers brushed over yours. 

“Oh, oops!” You laughed nervously, fingers fumbling with the tiny thing. You looked up as you straightened and noticed that he was staring at you—or was he? His eyes could move under the helmet, he didn’t need to move it every which way.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, holding out his right palm. The left clenched the screwdriver in a vise grip that you only noticed because of the creak of his leather glove. 

You smiled at him, placing it gingerly in his hand. “Happens all the time. I’m always chasing after random parts for my aunt.”

There was silence as he got back to his task and you to yours. 

“Do you—” The Mandalorian cleared his throat, “Do you like working with her?”

You shrugged, eyes barely registering the Aurebesh in front of you. “It’s alright.”

There was a modulated exhale—a chuckle? —and you looked over at him quizzically. “What?”

“I just can’t see someone like you repairing ships and rewiring droids,” he said, another screw loosened and falling into his large hand. 

You turned your chair to face him again, back and neck straightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His beskar helmet snapped to look at you, screwdriver frozen. “I didn’t—I meant—”

“Go on,” you urged, interrupting his stutters.

He sighed and dropped his hand to his lap and tilted his head back. Blue streaks melted together on his helmet and armor, capturing your eyes’ interest more in five seconds than your datapad had in what felt like hours.

“I meant to say that you’re too—”

His words were interrupted by a rapid beeping, and he immediately got up, tools still in hand, dashing to the ladder. All you did was watch him with a stern face as he tossed the stools on the seat to his left, then climbed down the ladder to the hull, visor catching your eyes and then dropping to the rungs underneath him. You rolled your eyes and turned off your datapad, deciding to finish it at some point during your visit with your Aunt Peli.

Who did this guy think he was? You shook your head and folded your hands over the dark screen in your lap. You didn’t even acknowledge him when he climbed back into the cabin, opting to keep your eyes trained on the hypnotic blue shades swirling around the ship. The small green baby gurgled as the Mandalorian placed him in the pram nestled behind your chair. How someone so broad, intimidating, and gruff could have a child was beyond your understanding; all you knew was that your aunt loved the tiny creature almost as much as he did. He’d mentioned it in passing, his voice and phrasing awkward. It had struck you as odd that someone so imposing could be so unsure. You hadn’t paid it too much mind, though. You’d brushed off his awkward attempts at conversations and the way he tapped your shoulder to get your attention, chalking it up to his relatively solitary lifestyle. You understood, though, why your aunt liked him—he was capable, no-nonsense, and had an occasionally funny quip. The journey with him hadn’t been uncomfortable despite his social stumbles, and he’d been making sure you were comfortable and taken care of the entire time. 

His comment in the cabin was the first one that had made you feel slighted. Although you were grateful he’d waited until now to make a snide remark, you were annoyed that your positive perception of him was marred. Your aunt had complimented him up and down, quelling all your anxieties about him, saying she trusted him with her life. Your bubbly aunt would be disappointed to hear about this, and a part of you debated telling her, especially since he was so awkward and fumbled many of his interactions with you.

The creak of old leather yanked you out of your head—probably for the best, you figured. The Mandalorian took his place in the pilot’s chair, turning to look at you. He seemed to hesitate, helmet quickly tilting down then back up. You caught the way he clenched his fist and heard him clear his throat. 

“I’m dropping out of hyperspace. Strap in.”

You raised your eyebrows and did as told. “No ‘please?’” you teased, a little annoyance underneath it.

“I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He turned back to the control panel without another word. 

When you opened your mouth to apologize for the smart comment, he pushed the blinking button and the ship dropped out of hyperspace with a whoosh, the beige planet of Tatooine in full view against the black backdrop of space. You were pushed forward with the sudden change in momentum, and the Mandalorian turned to look at you after an “oof” escaped your lips. You assumed he was checking on the cooing baby behind you, but when he didn’t change his gaze, you nodded to assert that you were fine. It was only then that he turned back and began the landing protocol.

Your heart buzzed as you descended into your aunt’s hangar, her mop of curly hair moving below and arms guiding the Mandalorian. Upon touchdown, the engines started to grind to a halt, gloved hands pressing a few more buttons and flicking a switch on the control above. Before you could move, the Mandalorian was unbuckling your safety belts, his hands deft but nervous. You looked at his helmet, the visor avoiding your eyes until he was finished.

You rose and stared at him, gripping your datapad in your hands. “I, um, I guess this is it,” you shrugged.

“I suppose it is.”

He gestured to the ladder and let you climb down it first, joining you in the hold a few moments later with the baby in a satchel across his body. You stood by the door, the canvas pack you’d brought with heavy in your hand. The tap of his boots on the metal floor was joined by intermittent babbles and gurgles, and you almost blushed when he stood incredibly close to you, an armored arm brushing yours. He met your inquisitive gaze with his beskar-covered one, making you squirm. He broke it to press a button and lower the ramp, bright light making you wince as your eyes adjusted.

“There they are!” Peli shouted, a smile splitting her face. 

You grinned and ran down the ramp into her open arms, holding her in a tight hug. She pulled away and held your arms in her hands, taking you in. A broad shadow shaded your aunt and her gaze shifted up over your head. You turned around and stood at your aunt’s side, gulping at the sight of the Mandalorian, his armor glinting in the blazing suns’ light.

“Thanks for getting my shefele here safe and sound, Mando.” 

You stared at the sand under your boots, suddenly embarrassed. Heat rushed to your cheeks at your aunt’s nickname for you—little lamb—and you hoped he didn’t know what it meant. The canvas bag was heavy in your arms and the heat from the twin suns was even more imposing than it was before.

The Mandalorian nodded, and her face lit up when she saw the green baby, reaching out for him. There was a sigh, and then an excited coo from the baby as he placed the cooing child in your aunt’s waiting hands. She cradled him close, then looked up again at the Mandalorian.

“This little guy and I have some catching up to do,” she beamed. She looked at you. “Go on and head upstairs, that bag looks heavy.”

The beskar helmet trained its visor on you. He said your name with an oddly gentle tone, immediately catching your attention. “I can take your bag.”

“It’s okay, I can do it,” you said, stubborn feet already turning to move.

Your aunt groaned and yanked on your arm, her tight grip holding you back. “Mando, are you seriously gonna let my shefele carry their own stuff up to their room? Come on!”

“Auntie, it’s okay, I can do it,” you entreated, embarrassed once again.

“No, no, he could use the exercise,” she joked. “Show him where your room is.”

When you didn’t answer, he held out his hand. “I insist.”

You rolled your eyes. There was never any room to argue with your aunt, and you knew the Mandalorian wouldn’t budge either. You conceded and handed the man your duffel, turning and walking to a door a few meters away. He followed you inside and you silently walked up the narrow stairway. Without a sound, you turned left at the landing and punched in an entry code to open a door and walked into your room, stepping aside so the Mandalorian could set your bag on the floor with a grunt.

“Dank farrik, that thing is heavy. What do you have in there?” he asked with a huff, hands on his hips.

“Stuff,” you said simply.

Yet another tense silence fell over both of you, coating the air with anticipation. You looked at the cement floor and shuffled your feet, throat suddenly dry.

The Mandalorian mumbled your name. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s okay.”

“It…it isn’t.” He shook his head. “I meant to say that I..I think you’re good-looking. The, uh, words came out wrong.”

You looked up at him, heat rushing to your cheeks and lips parting slightly. You exhaled a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, you definitely messed that up.” You nudged your duffel with a sandy boot. “Was this an excuse to get me alone?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I just thought you were being polite.”

“I don’t think pretty people should have to carry their incredibly heavy bags,” he asserted. 

Your breath hitched when he took a few steps toward you, closing the distance. His chest was only inches away from yours, helmeted gaze never breaking away from your eyes. A shaking hand came to rest on your forearm, sliding down to hold your clammy hand. Thank the Force for the leather glove, you thought as he squeezed your hand in his large one.

“Are you this nice to all the pretty people you meet?”

The beskar helmet shook in denial. “Only the ones I like.”

You smiled and bit your lip, swinging your joined hands. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“Maybe I was a little too subtle.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “Maybe I’m just dense.”

“That too,” he hummed. You gave him a playful, exaggerated gasp, quickly breaking and grinning when you heard a quiet, modulated chuckle. There was a beat of silence, then he took your other hand in his. “What would Pel—I mean, your aunt say if I came back at the end of your trip here?”

“To do what?” you inquired, raising an eyebrow. 

He ran his thumbs across the backs of your hands, shrugging his armored shoulders. “Take you back to Coruscant, or maybe take you somewhere you haven’t been before. If you’d like that,” he quickly added.

“I think that if you let her babysit that little green cutie, she’d be more than okay with it.” His shyness was endearing and making you smile like a little girl with a crush. “I haven’t been to a lot of places, so your options are very open.”

“Good to know, mesh’la.” 

The term of endearment was so soft on your ears, entirely unexpected from someone as stoic and intimidating as him. You wanted to know what it meant, but you decided to let it be for now. When he came back in seven days, you’d ask him then. Judging by the way he was caressing your hands and the way his chest was nearly pressed against yours, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time he’d be calling you mesh’la or reverently murmuring your name.

fic masterlist

shefele (SHEH-fuh-leh): yiddish term of endearment; means "little lamb/sheep" mesh'la (MAYSH`lah): Mando'a; means "beautiful"

tag list (join here)

@charlottetownwaffleses, @theamuz, @jellybeanstacey0519, @elinedjarin, @kaqua, @tortor-mcgee, @tizylish, @graciexmarvel, @dheet, @kalea-bane, @mymindfuckery, @bbyanarchist @hardlystrictlystarwars @hrtsforpascal

[alicedash2]

Shanks x Y/N with ADHD

Warning: nope, just fluff

- YN, so, I just wanted to say...- Shanks started to speak, but YN at first paid attention, but, suddenly, his mind started to wander

"Should I have studied? " YN starts to think

"That cloud looks like a boat"

YN starts looking up at the sky, then turning back to Shanks

"His face, he didn't trim his beard like usual"

"What did I eat yesterday?"

- Got it?- Shanks said at the end, YN having his attention back to Shanks

-Hi?- YN said.

-ah, I understand, you can leave it to me- YN said nervously

-... Can you repeat what I just said? - Shanks asked

- ah... - YN gives a nervous smile

- I'll say it again, try to focus, I'll speak more slowly and briefly - Shanks said

- sorry, Shanks- YN says

- ok, it's simple, you just need to reload the pistols and help me load some chests - Shanks says

-Oh, okay!- YN said with a smile

" let's go!" YN think

°•°°°•°•°•°

- It's the last chest...- YN was about to pick up and take the last treasure chest to the ship, when she sees a cat, which was rubbing against the chest

- how cute! He is so sweet!- YN was petting the kitten, completely distracted, but little did YN know that there was someone watching her from afar until a certain moment, YN felt something on her head, behind YN there was a pirate pointing a gun at her head

- don't scream, don't move, just give me the chest...- The pirate said

-Who are you?- YN asked

-Who am I doesn't matter, you're the redhead's girlfriend, huh? You'll serve a good hostage...-

The pirate takes her by the collar and lifts her, he takes her to the ship

- I can't believe it, YN, getting into trouble again? - Yasopp said laughing

- do not laugh! He has a gun pointed at me-- What is that? Wait, he has a gun pointed at me! And why am I being used as a hostage? YOU ARE DISGUSTING!- YN screams angrily

- you're the redhead's girlfriend! You must cost good money for your head, and shut up! - the pirate said while putting the gun on YN's head again

- Red-haired! Give me all your treasure and I'll set she free! Nobody gets hurt!- the pirate said in a big cruel smile

-he... better not - Shanks would say, he knew you would be safe

- why not?! I'll shoot her in the head if you don't do what I say!- the pirate starts screaming, trying to intimidate Shanks

- I think it's hard - Shanks turns and starts walking

- let's go to the ship, let's leave soon - Shanks gets a "yes" from the crew

-I WILL SHOOT- - The pirate finally realizes that YN was out of his hands

- How did she get out?! Where is she?! - the pirate asked

-I think I'm forgetting something, Shanks- YN saidp

- did you clean all the pistols?- Shanks asked, YN nods positively

- and the chests? We're going to need them - Shanks climbed onto the ship

- oh right, I ended up forgetting one! - YN says while going to the chest that he ended up forgetting and takes it back to the ship

- Hey! What are you doing?! You are my hostage!- the pirate frustrated with the situation spoke pointing his finger at YN

- am I? I didn't notice, sorry! I have to go, bye! - YN said while going up to the ship

-What a strange guy! - Yasopp said laughing

- he tried, let him, and YN! - Shanks called YN and then goes to her

- be more careful, although you ran away from him, he could have hurt you - Shanks runs his finger across YN's face

-but... I...- YN tries to speak, but Shanks turns around, asking them to leave soon, because he was having a party and he wanted to drink soon

- come, YN- Shanks called her, YN goes to Shanks-, who puts his arm over YN's shoulders and kisses her on the cheek

- you do thing that's just you can do it!...- Shanks whispers

- It's not my fault!- YN protests

- I know! Go drink and eat something, you haven't eaten anything today- Shanks would say taking her to the kitchen with the rest of the crew, they have fun for the rest of the day, just relaxing and partying

- you're so beautiful - Shanks said

-hm?- YN look at Shanks

- what? - Shanks ask

- I am what?- YN ask to Shanks

- ...-

-...-

-... nothing, let's go- Shanks said and starts walking towards the crew who were drinking

- WAIT! REPEAT! REPEAT WHAT DID YOU SAY! Did you call me what?!- YN scream at Shanks following him

[pekejscatbed]

Hearing You So Breathless (a sound i never wanna forget) | Dick Grayson x Wally West

Info/Warnings: Dick is 17 and still Robin, Wally is 19 and still Kid Flash, both are trans masc (t4t birdflash>>>), consensual kissing, making out, groping, and grinding, but No Smut, movie date (mentioned movies: Black Christmas (1974), Red, White & Royal Blue (2023), BASEketball (1998), and Barbie (2023)), both Dick and Wally are suggested to have ADHD

loosely based on me and my bf's date the other night <3

batman masterlist

------

It's their fourth date, and the two decide to have another movie date, as they both want nothing more than to curl up next to each other and forget their alternate lifestyles, even if it's just for one night.

Dick, despite popular belief, is actually a good cook, and makes a pot of Cajun Chicken Alfredo from a recipe Alfred taught him, enough to feed all of the Justice League, really, but Dick is just accounting for his boyfriends never-ending appetite; perks of dating a speedster, right? And not only do the two lovers have that to eat, but they have a cake, too, that Wally picks up on his way to Wayne Manor- a 'thank you' for cooking, even though Wally will maybe- probably- definitely- eat most, if not all, of it.

(The Alfredo is gone in ten minutes, and the cake in five.)

After they eat, they go up to Dick's room and put on their first movie, one of six they've chosen to watch tonight, three chosen by Dick and three chosen by Wally. The first movie is one of Dick's, an old horror movie surrounding Christmas that neither of them pay much attention to. Next is a movie Wally picked out, a romance and comedy about gay princes, with a non-descriptive sex scene that has Dick saying, "could be us", just to fluster his boyfriend, because with all the flirting Wally dishes out, he still gets so shy when someone flirts back. The third movie is another one of Dick's, a sports comedy with outdated humor, but it has both Dick and Wally laughing the whole time, and the two main characters, both male, kiss at the end, despite both being straight and pining for the same girl, leaving Dick and Wally to spout headcanon after headcanon about how the characters are "so totally into each other" and how they've "definitely explored each other's bodies".

During the fourth movie, a feminism movie surrounding children's toys that just recently came out with an actress who looks suspiciously similar to Harley Quinn and Wally's second choice, the two young men gets antsy from sitting still for too long despite the fact that neither of them want to stop cuddling. Luckily, they quickly come up with an alternative, one where they can still cling to each other but move enough to not want to rip their skin off; kissing. 

The only problem with kissing, however, is how shy Wally is whenever they start, nerves through the roof and turning him into a giggly mess, which then turns Dick into a giggly mess as well, and now both of the vigilantes are laughing every time one of them tries to initiate and kiss.

Eventually, they both calm down, and the laughing has eased Wally's nervousness, so now they can share a proper a kiss. Except one kiss turn into two, turns into three, turns into five, and on and on, until they're just making out, movie forgotten in the background. But then making out leads to Dick perched in Wally's lap, and then Wally falls back onto the bed with Dick on top of him, and then Dick is rolling his hips against Wally's,, and Wally is so excited he’s beginning to vibrate, and-

"You can touch me, babe." Dick breaks the kiss to look down at his boyfriend, who's face is flushed and Dick wonders if his own face is just as red.

"Are you sure? Like, really sure?"

"Yes, Wally," Dick presses another kiss to the redheads lips, "I'm sure."

And then Wally's hands are cupping Dicks breasts through his shirt- through Wally's shirt- and Dick hums into the other mouth. "You can touch me under the shirt, if you want."

"Do you want me to?" Wally is breathless now, looking up at his boyfriend with wide eyes and flushed cheeks and bruised lips.

"Yes."

So, Wally's hands find their way under Dick's shirt, groping the raven-haired males chest, skin on skin. His hands occasionally move down to Dicks hips, pulling him impossibly closer, and to Dicks ass, giving a light squeeze every now and then.

"You look so pretty under me," Dick mutters against Wally's lips, who bucks his hips up at the compliment with a whine, and he’s trying so hard to stay calm and not vibrate right through Dicks bed. Both of them are soaked through their boxers by now, and Wally asks if he can touch Dick lower, and Dick is guiding the others hand towards his boxers, fingers just slipping past the waistband, and-

Knock, knock, knock!

"Master Richard, please do clean up after yourself when cooking." Alfred's voice is smug from behind the door, like he knows what Dick and Wally are doing.

Dick groans, shouting back, "Yes, Alfred! I'll be right there!"

Wally laughs as Dick rolls off of him, though both boys are disappointed at the interruption.

"Finish this later?" Dick asks, pressing one last kiss to Wally's lips.

"Later." 

The two walk hand-in-hand downstairs, ready to wash these dishes as fast as possible (without powers, of course; Bruce always knows, and he's incredibly strict on his "no superpowers in Gotham” rule) and finish where they left off.

[k-marzolf]

Make me perfect.

reader as ADHD (written from MY experience with it after being diagnosed, once as a child, and once as an adult. Please keep in mind everyone experiences it differently), friends to lovers, fluff, fem!reader.

Word count; 419.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

&&&

It was late, and you and Billy were having some drinks, and playing Battleship, something you and your mother had played when you were growing up, before she died.

“A5.” Billy said, growing increasingly frustrated, watching your expression. You had a good poker face.

“No.” You said. You were slower to make a move, and Billy realized you were thinking it through, where his ships could be based on your recent fires.

You’d already taken down one of his ships. “D7.” You said sipping your sangria, looking up at him.

“Hit.” He said frowning, leaning back looking at you. “I haven’t had a challenge like this since Frank. How’re you doing it?” He asked, drinking his beer.

“Probability. Figuring the statistics in my head, based on where I’ve hit you.” You said, jiggling your leg as you always did. You fidgeted a lot, and usually lost interest in things quickly. You were always moving to one thing after another, keeping Billy on his toes.

And your organizational skills were terrible, your bookcase was random. Not alphabetical, not by series or color, just books thrown in there.

And your kitchen was a nightmare. Tupperware with the pots and pans, and spices with the canned goods.

He stared at you, “You musta done good in school, sweet pea.” He said, watching you.

“No. They said I wasn’t smart enough to be with the class, but I wasn’t slow enough to be in special education. I just worked hard, but I could never please my father.” You answered softly, nervously taking another drink.

“E7.” He said, processing what you’d said. In other words your father thought you were stupid. It made Billy angry.

“Hit.” You said, fidgeting more, eyes moving towards the living room.

He hummed, “Bored, baby?” He asked, amused.

You leaned back, eyes raising to Billy’s, “Want you to read Dorian Gray to me.” You said, finishing off your drink, a little buzzed.

Billy laughed, having learned to roll with whatever you threw at him. “And just as I got a hit on you.”

“Sorry. Dad always said I could be brilliant if I’d just hold my attention.” You mumbled.

He huffed a laugh, ruffling your hair. “It’s all good.” He stood up, and you followed, cheeks warm. You curled up against him, buzzing with contentment; reading with Billy was the one thing you could focus on for an extended period of time.

He wrapped an arm around you, and began to read, his voice rumbling against you, comforting you.

Here, you were accepted.