#like it doesn’t feel bad but it feels wrong

[puppetwoman17]

I want to read more comics and fanfics about Cap/Billy being a respected member of the hero community.

But at the SAME TIME, I want to read something where his attempts to make friends is seen as too eager or boyish and he’s ostracized, so as he grows up he understands that he needs to dial it down. He begins backing off and letting people do their own thing. He doesn’t try to hang out with the younger hero teams, but makes it clear that he’s always there if they need him, because he’s a sweetie. He talks less with JL members, not significantly, but just so he’s not talking way more than he has to.

Everyone’s noticed. They are worried.

Billy grows up, gets reunited with his sister, connects more with his Whiz Radio coworkers, gets along with the Bromfields, meets and connects with other Fawcett heroes and finally gets his own apartment(with illegal means but shush I guarantee you someone else has done much worse). He’s getting his life together day by day and he’s more sure of himself.

Heavy on Fawcett heroes btw. They clock him being CC’s kid immediately. What do you mean the JL doesn’t like him? What’s their problem with our boy😡?

Little subtleties with other heroes… Because why is Cap not talking to me anymore? Why do I have to steer the conversation?

Did I do something wrong?

Did I fuck up?

Was I too mean?

He just wants to hang out. Isn’t that what being part of a team is?

He just wants to be friends like the rest of us are.

Cue young and older heroes alike trying their damn hardest to get Cap to join them for a game night or gossip session or joint mission where there doesn’t need to be a joint mission and Billy is just confuzzled.

He’s busy, sorry! (He’s cleaning up the radio station for a birthday party)

Something came up, you know how schedules can be. (Mary wants him to see his first opera. Billy is a yes man)

A friend of mine needs some help! Really sorry, I wish I could! (Ebenezer is about to die. He wants to watch the moment the light leaves his eyes. No, Mary, he doesn’t need therapy. No Freddy, he doesn’t need a hug right—fuck it, give him a hug)

Because even without knowing, the her community watched him grow up. And, like adult figures and parents in a child’s life, they miss the way things used to be. It confuses them, especially the younger heroes.

Oh, then an identity reveal happens and everything makes so much sense and they all feel so so so bad but Billy’s like “Hey, it’s no big deal! Everyone gets busy! And I’ve got lots of other friends to confide in!”

He says this with a smile on his face but it sounds like an insult. Now the JL and younger heroes are grappling with the fact that this whole time they’ve just been parental figures who miss when their kid was clingy🥺

…

…

…

LOL, TOO BAD. Freddy’s taking him to a game tonight. He’s got front row seats and extra cotton candy coupons! Suck on that!

[bumblebeeappletree]

Genuinely I think you guys should look into Solarpunk. Like, it’s a dark day in America, and everyone is feeling hopeless. And unfortunately America is a country that literally doesn’t mind its own business and has to be involved with the rest of the world. Mostly in a bad way. But.

I think you need to check out Solarpunk. Yes it’s literary as it’s speculative fiction. Yes it’s an aesthetic. But it’s also a real life movement. It’s activism against the climate crisis. To reverse the effects of our planet. It’s activism for human rights. The right to housing, the right to food, the right to water. Activism for education, health care, child care. To have the choice to have an abortion. It is about banding together with your community, with your fellow humans.

Solarpunk is about feeling rage about everything that is wrong with the world and using it to help fix it. It is about feeling hope that the actions you do will change things for the better, no matter how slow. Organization. Protests. Even something like calling, emailing, writing a letter to the people in your government. Your mayor, your county representative, your state representative and so on. It is about choosing kindness to help people in need. To help people who were once in cults and are taught to be afraid of “outsiders.” To help people when they realize that they were wrong and help them be able to grow. To share food with others, offer a friend a place to stay, join community events.

It is okay to rage. To cry. To scream and feel like the world is burning to the ground. Let yourself feel those emotions. And look at Solarpunk. Use your emotions as fuel to make things better. For yourself and others. To make things a bit kinder. For yourself and others.

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovie a lil request if u pls! I would love to see Sirius (but could also be down with one of the other boys if ur not feeling him) with a gf who has a migraine and just him doting on her

alternatively could also do it's like early in the relationship and she tries to hide it from him?

Thanks for requesting!

cw: modern au, migraine

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 997 words

You decide to text Sirius rather than braving the lights and sounds of the living room. You keep your phone brightness on low, clicking your screen off as soon as it’s sent. 

Do you have any painkillers I could use?

You feel guilty for commandeering Sirius’ bedroom like this. You’re supposed to be cooking dinner together, but when you came home with the groceries you’d asked meekly if he’d mind if you napped for a while. He offered to make it himself so it’ll be ready when you get up. You sort of dread when that will be. You know you’d feel better back at your own place, but you don’t trust yourself to drive like this, with pain taking all your concentration and spots and lines flashing across your vision, so instead you’re spoiling the evening you and Sirius had planned together. Now you’re asking him to wait on you, too. 

Sirius doesn’t respond to your text, but you hear him moving. The soft thump of footsteps coming down the hall and the quiet sshk of a drawer coming open. 

“Just a nap, huh?” he murmurs as he comes into the bedroom. He sits by your knees on the bed, shaking a couple of pills into his hand. “Does something hurt, lovely?”

“Yeah,” you manage a hoarse whisper as he passes you the pills and the glass of water he’s brought you. “Sorry. My head.” 

“I thought something might be wrong,” he admits, keeping his voice low. “You got awfully quiet earlier. Why didn’t you say?”

You set the glass on his nightstand after downing the pills. Cover your eyes with the hand cool with condensation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ruin our night.” 

Sirius tuts softly. “Don’t worry about that.” His hand finds your forehead, first feeling for a fever and then brushing a few pieces of hair back from your eyes, but he stops when your face tightens. “It’s quite bad?” 

You make a low humming sound. “It’s a migraine. I get them, sometimes.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sirius takes his hand away from you, though by the pain in his voice it costs him to do it. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“I just need to lie with it for a bit. Hopefully it’ll calm down. I have things to help at home, but I don’t think I can make it there right now.” 

“What sort of things?” 

You tell him, admittedly somewhat short in your speech. Sirius doesn’t seem to mind. He leaves you to rest afterwards, and you hardly hear him again until nearly an hour later. You think dinner has to have long since been ready, but when Sirius comes back into his bedroom it’s not with food. 

You watch through slitted eyes as he creeps into the corner, plugging in a machine that starts billowing steam up into the room. He fiddles with it for a moment, and soon you’re aware of a familiar scent upon the air, floral and relaxing. 

“Did you get that from my place?” 

Sirius jumps, pressing a hand to his chest as he turns around. “Fuck, babe, I thought you were sleeping. No, I didn’t want to ask you to give me your key.” 

You look at the essential oil diffuser. “Huh. Looks just like mine.” 

“Well, good. Hopefully it’ll work just as well, then.” Sirius stands, typing something into his phone. “Do you think those binaural beats things will help right now, or will they keep you from falling asleep?” 

“M’not falling asleep anyway,” you mumble half bitterly, but your boyfriend only nods. He connects his phone to a small speaker and sets it by the bed. “Tell me you didn’t go buy a diffuser?”

Sirius looks at you, raising an eyebrow as a low, soothing thrum starts to emanate from the speaker on the nightstand. “Not sure what you want me to say then. Would you have rather I broke into your place to get one?”

“Sirius.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “You didn’t have to. That’s so sweet.” 

“Oh.” He brightens. “Good then. There’s a weighted mask in the freezer, too, by the way. Thought I’d give it a minute to chill first.” 

You’re starting to feel slightly teary, which isn’t really what you want during a migraine. “That’s really kind of you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Couldn’t have the world's loveliest girl suffering here in my own home, could I?” He smiles softly, looking like he’s going to reach for your face again before he stops himself. 

“You can touch me,” you say quietly. 

Sirius’ brows twitch together. “Yeah? Are you sure?” 

“Mhm. I feel a bit better than before.” 

“Could I kiss you as well?” 

You can’t stop your lips from curving, just a little. “Yeah.” 

Sirius smiles, too, pressing his lips gently to yours. He doesn’t stop there. “Better than before doesn’t seem quite well enough,” he murmurs as his affections grace your cheek, your closed eyelid, the space between your brows, “but we’ll get you there soon, I think. Remus sometimes has migraines, too. I called him and he said a massage might help, if it suits you. Just while your mask is getting cold.” 

“Yeah?” you ask on a breath. “I’ve never tried that.” 

“Do you wanna?”

You nod, and he gets you to roll onto your front, thumbs finding the tight muscles of your neck. It’s not a skillful massage, but Sirius is a quick learner, and soon you find the tension from your face to your shoulders relaxing from his ministrations. The air smells of lavender, the room pulses with a low, resounding hum, and Sirius’ touch bleeds affection into your skin. 

“Thank you for doing this,” you mumble, words slurred with relaxation. 

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for,” he hums back. “I told you, I have the world’s loveliest girl right here in my own home. Great power comes with great responsibility and all that, right?”

You’re too enamored to even scoff.

[mikkomacko]

Mob Movember

Mob Boss Nico x reader

A/n: just a little something inspired by the diva pictured above x

~~~~~~~

“So that’s like gonna be a thing now?”

Nico’s eyebrows pinch together, eyes finding yours in the bathroom mirror and he pauses, razor half way to his face and warm water running from the faucet.

“What do you mean?”

You shrug and he blinks, looking back at his reflection and biting his bottom lip to pull it taut. Then he’s dragging his razor over a smear of shaving cream on his chin, dipping the razor back into the sink to rinse it.

“You shaved a lot this week,” you decide to say, “and yet you always skip the space above your lip.”

Nico bristles at that, a petulant pout glaring at you through the mirror and you try not to laugh at him after indirectly insulting his mustache. It’s not that you hate it per se, it just looks different on him. He’s still cute, you’ll give him that. It’s impossible for him to ever not be attractive, but the mustache doesn’t have the same sexy appeal his beard does.

“Didn’t know I had to explain the concept of a mustache to you.”

“Ouch,” you hold a hand over your heart. “Mean and mustache-y.”

A sigh of annoyance huffs out of his nose, and he shakes his head just once before going back to cleaning up his jawline. “Go away,” he says, but you linger a minute longer to watch him finish shaving, eyes following the bend of his waist when he leans over to rinse off any left over bits of shaving cream.

Giving yourself a moment to appreciate his ass in those light blue jeans he wears all the time, you wonder off before he can look back in the mirror and still see you there.

~~~~

“Not you too!”

Timo frowns, looking around curiously as he slides into the passenger seat. He’s wearing an overly thick puffy coat and those stupid 5 inch inseam shorts from Lululemon that all the boys except Nico wear (much to your dismay) and you were gonna tease him about whether he’s hot or cold but the sight of his face has changed your plans.

“What?” He closed the door, immediately warming his hands in front of the vents.

“Is there like a mustache epidemic going around? What is wrong with you and Nico?”

You saw Timo yesterday, and while he had more stubble than he usually does, you didn’t think he’d be shaving it off into a mustache too. It’s been three long days of trying to get Nico’s new look to grow on you and no matter how times you kiss him, feel the scratch of his freshly shaved cheeks, it’s still not the same. You don’t like the way it tickles your upper lip but not your chin, and you don’t really like the way that you can’t kiss his nose anymore without feeling it.

But you’re trying and it’s hard. Even harder now that your bestie has apparently jumped on the train too.

“You don’t like them?” He asks, not offended but curious. You side eye him, pulling away from the curb and making your way towards the yoga studio.

“Is that why Nico is pouting?” He laughs, clicking his seatbelt. He rubs at his lame excuse of a mustache and you mentally give Nico credit for that. At least he can actually grow a really nice one, not that you’re going to say that to Timo.

“He’s pouting?”

“Uh yeah,” he scoffs, “he’s moped every day this week, Sieges said they’ve been having to talk to clients and stuff because he gets moody right away.”

You cringe, feeling a little bad about the whole thing. You didn’t mean to make Nico feel bad or like you don’t like his mustache. Yeah you don’t love it, but he’s Nico -your Nico -and everything about him is always so beautiful.

“I may be struggling to enjoy it,” you explain hesitantly, “I just am not used to it and he’s never been a mustache guy. Maybe like a day or two but he always shaves.”

“Oof,” Timo laughs, “yeah you probably hurt his feelings. Literally his biggest flex is that you think he’s so pretty.”

Groaning painfully, you thump your head against the steering wheel before pouting up at the red light. You’ve always Nico to be a sensitive person, not in a bad way or anything. He’s just never hid or pushed down feelings when it came to you, and it physically makes you ache to think that your reaction to his new facial hair made him so insecure he didn’t want to tell you.

You’ve got some major Nico loving to make up for.

~~~~

Nico is sat in the Devils booth of The Rock, hunched over the scheduling iPad as the boys mill around the bar. Jesper and Jonas are actually working it looks like, Jonas holding a ladder that has the smaller of the two men perched at the top, Jesper screwing in a new security camera. He’s got Mercer and Alex stocking the bar, and you almost laugh at the overly straight and organized bottles on Mercer’s side compared to haphazardly placed ones on Alex’s.

The Hughes boys are doing something they’re probably not suppose to be doing on the upper level, no where to be seen but definitely heard.

Timo parts from you to go join Jesper and Jonas, who look like they could use it by the way Jesper is trembling on the top rung.

You approach the booth, setting the lunch you brought for Nico onto the table alongside your greens smoothie. He looks up at you when you drop your jacket into the seat, eyes following your movement when you slide in next to him.

“Hey,” he mumbles, and something melancholy settles in the air. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips, your heart throbbing when you take in the dejected look in his big brown eyes and the way he’s pouting.

“Hi,” you greet, reaching up brush his hair away from his face. Then you hold his cheek, brushing your thumb over the scar on his cheekbone. “I brought you lunch.”

He doesn’t bother to look interested. “Thanks baby.”

“I like your mustache,” you say quietly, tenderly pressing your thumb into the hinge of his jaw where you know he gets headaches from clenching. Like its second nature he relaxes, melting into the feeling.

“No you don’t,” he insists, licking at his pouting lips. “S’fine-“

“I do, I do like it Nico. It’s just different and I was teasing because I’m not used to it.”

Nico blinks, fluttering those stupidly pretty eyelashes at you and then two dimples sink into his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Giggling, you cup the back of his head and draw him closer to you. “You know you’re always handsome, no matter what.” You kiss him before he can say anything else, smiling when his hair scratches at your cheeks and lip.

Nico hums, reaching around to grip your hip and pull you until you’re half sitting in his lap. Then he melts back into the booth, sighing contently.

“Would you two get a room, Jesus fuck.”

You peck Nico’s lips one more time for good measure before pulling back, curling into his side and he slips his arm around you.

Nico reaches for his food, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. The Hughes brothers have made their way down the stairs, and Mercer and Alex have abandoned the bar in favor of crowding around you and Nico.

Which in itself is a little scary, but add the thin and scraggly mustaches they all have is even worse. Desperate for a distraction, you scramble to grab your juice and take a sip, casting a glance over at Nico who’s smirking proudly. He shares a knowing look with you.

“Why are you making that face?”

You look at Jack, forcing yourself to only look in his eyes as you clear your throat. “What face?”

He points an accusing finger at you. “That face, why are you laughing?”

“M’not.”

“You are, Holtz tell her she is.”

Alex looks around helplessly and you do giggle when you realize his poor mustache is nothing but peach fuzz. “Ok now she’s laughing.”

Steadying yourself, you force your smile down. “I love this new look you all have going on.”

Almost immediately they all groan, offended and outraged and you can’t even listen to them. Hunching over into Nico’s shoulder you cackle, tears springing up in your eyes and stomach aching.

You can feel him chuckle, one hand rubbing at your back to calm you down. Finally you peel yourself off of him, wiping at your wet eyes as the boys glare at you.

“Don’t be mean, it’s for a good cause.” Mercer defends.

“What cause?”

“Movember,” Jack states proudly, “it was Nico’s idea. Good cause and we all bond over our shared ‘staches.” He strokes over his lame excuse of a mustache and Luke cringes, cheeks tinting pink.

You look to Nico. “This was your doing?”

He looks utterly pleased with himself, shrugging nonchalantly but there’s a twinkle of mischief in his features. The sight makes you giddy. What has he been up to?

The other three boys wonder up behind the rest, and you cackle again at the blonde patch of hair on Jesper’s lip and the razor burn on Jonas’s chin. Offended, they frown at you.

“S’like our new tradition,” Jesper says but it sounds more like a question as he examines Nico.

Your boyfriend beams at you. “Like last year we did no nut November,” he explains, and you roll your eyes. You hated that stupid challenge between them, and if you recall correctly, they all did too.

“Yeah and you lost,” Timo mocks, glancing at you because you know all too well why Nico lost. And Nico knows too because you can’t for the life of you keep a secret from him.

“Hey you all cried to y/n to make me lose,” Nico argues, and Timo’s mouth drops open.

“Traitor!” Jesper gasps, pointing at you. “You weren’t supposed to tell him we came to you.”

“Hey the only loyalty I have is to him,” you jab your thumb in Nico’s direction. “And his dick.”

Nico’s smirk grows, shuffling in his seat as he accepts the compliment from you. “You all went crying to her about how dry November was making me mean. And that’s why I lost.”

“Should’ve known to never trust a temptress,” Jack mutters, glaring at you. Offended, you glare back.

“Well you can’t a grow a mustache,” you hiss, “in fact none of you can. That dirt smear on your lip looks like it took twenty years to grow Jack.”

He clutches his heart, offended and looks to Nico for help. Nico takes a sip of your smoothie, gesturing for them to leave. “M’on her side. Get back to work, all of you.”

They grumble, stalking away from the table and muttering to each other as they return to their assigned jobs for the day. Shuffling, you turn to Nico.

“You’re so mean for letting them walk around like that.” You giggle quietly, and Nico snickers.

“You should see the update selfies they’ve been taking,” he whispers, pleased with himself. “Think I’ll make a collage of them and hang them in the office before I tell them it was all a joke.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this was to get back at them for last year?”

He shrugs. “You were so fucking good to me after they whined last year that I wanted it to be a surprise. And was it a good one, or what?”

You laugh again, flashing back to seeing them all standing around you earlier, so proud of their matching mustaches.

“It’s kind of cute,” you mumble thoughtfully, laying your head on his shoulder. “They all wanted to be like you.”

Nico hums in agreement. Then he’s sliding the iPad to you. “Look this over, yeah? Make sure I’ve got the schedule and times right for Thanksgiving.”

He’s so sweet, you think, looking over the calendar he’s filled in. Even when he’s fucking around and embarassing the boys, he’s given them slack for almost the whole month. And he’s even written in the day off for Friday after Thanksgiving. Instead a big red heart is drawn on the day and in his perfectly slanted handwriting is written “Family Sleepover”.

“Looks good,” you agree, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But the mustaches have to go by Thanksgiving. I am not having those in any photos.”

“Yes ma’am.”

[stellamancer]

flips and shit (katsuki bakugou + reader)

notes: more stuff inspired by things that happen in my kitchen. name me me attempting to flip scallion pancakes. it's been a while since i had one of these actually. part of the kitchen adventures series. mostly unedited.

wc: 1k

contains: gn!reader, pro-hero bkg (not actually mentioned) neighbor au.

You have never asked Bakugou to teach you anything before. 

Mostly because there’s never really been anything you’ve actually wanted to learn. Despite his griping, you think you're honestly a pretty decent cook. Sure, you may prefer taking convenient shortcuts over doing things the proper way, but it's not like it's the worst thing in the world. Still, Bakugou’s taken it upon himself to teach you in order to prevent you from committing what he considers to be kitchen atrocities. Admittedly, your knife skills have improved and you don’t hear your fire alarm going off as often (which you suspect is more due to Bakugou changing the whole thing himself in a fit when it dared to screech as he was broiling some fish during one lesson), but there are some things, like your instant miso soup, that Katsuki Bakugou can pry out of your cold dead hands. 

“Hah?” Bakugou whips his head around to face you, his expression twisted into his own special brand of confusion, eyes narrowed in an aggressive form of bewilderment. 

“Can you teach me how to flip things in a frying pan?” you repeat slowly.

His mouth twists, “Why? Usin’ a spatula not good enough for you?”

“It's not that,” you say. Bakugou shoots you an expectant look and you clear your throat as you elaborate. “It just looks cool is all.”

 “Y’got bigger things to worry about than lookin’ cool in the kitchen. Why’re y’worrying about that kinda crap anyway? Got someone to impress?” 

Grumbling, you say “Not really, but since you mention it, it would be nice if I were able to impress my smartass neighbor even just once.”

Bakugou snorts. “Maybe y’d impress me if you finally threw away those damn instant soup packets! I taught you how to make it yourself! Why do you still have them?”

You roll your eyes. What about cold dead hands does he not understand? You try to get the subject back on track. “Are you teaching me or not?”

He stares at you for a minute before shuffling past you into the kitchen proper. “Fine. Even an idiot like you should be able to do this much.” 

Feeling smug, despite his insult, you follow after him, watching as he pulls out your frying pan from a cabinet. He’s come over enough that he’s familiar with the layout of your kitchen, no longer needing to ask you where you keep this or that. It’s nice in a way, though you’re not entirely sure why. That said, you can’t help but be confused when he grabs one of your kitchen sponges and tosses it in the pan. Is he—

“Bakugou, I’ve got some frozen scall—”

“We’re using this first!” he barks at you. “No point in risking you flipping perfectly good food onto the kitchen floor!” 

You wince. It wouldn’t be that bad. You’ve tried flipping things before and the worst that’s happened is that the pancake flipped over on itself. 

Bakugou moves over to the stovetop, his arms gripping the frying pan’s handle. You stare at his arm— he’s in a black t-shirt today. The sleeves are loose, but you can see the defined shape of his arm muscles, from the near scandalous peek of his biceps down to the taut lines of his forearms. Maybe you’re staring a little too much, though, because you don’t quite catch what he says as he flicks his wrist. 

“What was that?” you ask. You could try to wing it and guess what his instructions were based on observation alone, but if you get it absolutely wrong he’ll scold you.

Though, since it’s Bakugou, he’s going to scold you either way. “Are you even listening?”

Now you are. “Yeah?” 

He eyes you suspiciously, but doesn’t mention if he noticed you oogling his arms. “So all you gotta do is just flick your wrist, but y’gotta do it like you’re shoveling dirt or some shit.” He does the motion a few times to show you, and you think you get it. It’s kind of like a flick and scoop. Watching him do it makes it seem easy, but you’ve learned that Bakugou makes a lot of things look effortless. 

He flips the sponge a few times before handing you the frying pan. The handle is still warm. Gruffly, he says, “Now you try.”

“Okay.” You try to mimic his motion, and the sponge goes up… but just falls back onto the pan without flipping over. 

“Weak,” Bakugou scoffs and you scowl at him, but he ignores you as he continues. “Try again, idiot, but put more force into it.” 

“Okay…” You do as he says and the sponge flies higher… before flopping onto the floor. Too much force.

“Not everything’s gonna weigh the same,” Bakugou says. “Y’gonna have to judge how much force to use for yourself.”

Right. You reach down and grab the sponge to put it back in the pan. It’s pretty light. You flick your wrist a couple times, not so much to flip but to get a feel of how much force you’ll need to flip it. When you think you’ve got an idea, you move your wrist and swoop your arm a little, sending the sponge up. It flips over and while it does catch the edge of the pan it still manages to land in it.

Grinning widely, you turn to Bakugou. “Look! I did it!” 

“Barely,” he says and while his mouth is curved down in a frown, there’s a sparkle in his eyes that makes it look like he’s trying to fight off a smile.. “Do it again! Make sure the flip is perfect this time!”

“Okay!” You try again and after a couple times you manage to flip the sponge perfectly. When you look at Bakugou for approval, he gives you the ghost of a smirk back, this time looking almost legitimately pleased.

But it only lasts for a moment before he switches out the sponge for a slightly heavier package of instant ramen. 

“Time for the next level, nerd,” he says, his eyes glinting dangerously. “We’re not stopping til every flip is perfect!” 

[princessbrunette]

Also I know you said in part 1 Hollis would take bunny!reader out shopping and stuff to butter her up, but do you think she’d take the deal like Sophia? Personally I think no because she’s so blindly loyal to Rafe and tells him everything, some times unintentionally

oh she’d tell him immediately! at first he’d really question her on whether she has the details actually correct, knowing she can be ditsy and get a little confused. “are— are you sure that’s what she said? hollis? this just… this doesn’t make any sense, alright?”

out of breath from literally sprinting to tell him, bunny nods — grabbing his arms to stabilise herself.

“rafey, she offered me money. just didn’t feel right i don’t know! knew something was wrong!” she whines, feeling bad for even being in his business like this. he always told her to stay out of his business but this she just couldn’t keep to herself.

he lets go of her to pace, running a hand over his buzzed head. “so she’s screwing me. she’s — that — god damn—”

“rafe…” bunny huffs, confused.

“good job, alright? i’mma talk to her. smooth - smooth things out… go home, yeah?”

and with that, he’s storming back down the pier to confront the blonde.

[britcision]

I do also agree with OP, although I am gonna throw in a little reframing

TTRPGs and RPGs in general are games; they work based on chance and mechanics which tend not to change based on what would be narratively convenient, because the game doesn’t know what would be narratively convenient

(Notable exception: Abnimals, Travis McElroy’s game which explicitly includes a pool of My Time To Shine dice, which players can add to rolls they think are narratively important.

The dice still don’t care and will still dish you up all failures, but you do get to juice to improve your odds)

And what this means from a narrative perspective is that all the players and the GM need to be ready for big moments to go wrong. For the vital roll to fail, for the wrong character to get the last hit on a BBEG, for a dramatic and impassioned speech to fall flat

And that’s especially a challenge in a short campaign or series of oneshots, where you can’t necessarily just extend and expand the story until the Grand Finale is actually just a Big Character Moment

But it is still a big character moment

As the McElroy’s say… a failure is more interesting than a success

A failure adds free depth, free angst if you’re lucky!

Because… is anyone actually upset and unsatisfied if the story goes too well? If you succeed in a place where a failure might have been more exciting and dramatic?

The key is the kind of story the players (especially western players) are expecting to tell, and will find satisfying… because again, these are games

We go into them expecting or at least intending to win

This means various things for different games, you don’t play Call of Cthulhu for a happy feel good ending where everyone rolls off into the sunset, but you still want to win

It’s a lot more likely for people to feel it was a narratively satisfying story once they’ve gotten the end they wanted, even if some areas fell flat

And trust me, it’s something my players very much also struggle with; it feels bad when we fail something we wanted to succeed on. It feels worse if we built it up to be a big narrative moment… and it doesn’t work

But that is still a big narrative moment

If you’re going to play a game, where chance and mechanics decide the fate of all your dramatic moments, you need to be prepared to tell at least two stories:

- One where it all goes well

- One where it fails

(Maybe one more for a natural 20 equivalent and the stars quake at your passing)

It is hard to lean into failure, but when we do it… what would have been an unsatisfying ending is now just another twist. Free depth and character development, something to wallow in

And we know that those types of stories, even ones where everything goes wrong and the heroes lose, can be so very satisfying

Just look at the prevalence of whump and hurt-no-comfort on AO3

It’s normal and expected to feel bad and dissatisfied when the story doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, but it is your choice to leave that story as something unsatisfying and feeling bad about it

Every unexpected failure is another microwave to toss your blorbo in

Every moment that falls even a little flat is an opportunity for a genre-savvy quip, for a “well that just happened”, for someone to fall to their knees and scream and re-amp the tension

The key is in the player’s flexibility, not the game’s

Even if you are doing a short campaign… you can imply the rest. Let the story not be over, even if your time playing it is.

Let the beaten heroes be ground underfoot, crawl away from the dungeon, have to work and suffer but grit their teeth and know… so long as they’re alive, they can try again

They can have their revenge

(And then you can run the campaign again later, maybe with the same characters a level or two higher than you started last time, and thrive on the new dark and bitter story)

Or let your past characters be an inspiration, either for friends and loved ones who come to avenge them, or to the new heroes who heard their story and heard they failed, but that’s no reason not to try

Prev is also so right about a lot of modern dnd basically expecting the DM to tell a mildly interactive story live to passive players; it’s definitely one a lot of my players came in with, and it’s part of the problem

To tell a narratively satisfying story, you cannot just passively go along and expect the dice rolls to conform to your narrative

You need to actively engage, embrace the rolls as crossroads in the path of destiny, and be prepared to build the narrative no matter which path you take

You don’t go in expecting the right results at the right time to make a satisfying story; you go in knowing where the key moments will be, and what will happen if you succeed or fail

I have told my players several times, and I’ll tell y’all until I die:

I as the DM am not telling the story

I the DM have made the world, the NPCs, the background and setting of events

You the players are telling the stories of your characters, in that setting

There is an overarching plot that the party as a whole will also be telling the story of together… but not only are the players the ones who pick the theme music, you’re the ones who chose the main characters

There’s a reason a prefab campaign will be different for every group that plays it, even with the same GM

Even if you have no idea what’s coming next in the main storyline, you need to know what is coming next for your character

How you want them to grow, what you want them to learn - and then any unfortunate rolls aren’t a let down or a problem, it’s an opportunity.

Sakura has to learn something important about herself and others before she can ever collect a card - which means something usually goes wrong

She tries and fails, and then looks at that failure and learns from it and grows as a person, and that’s what makes the narrative satisfying

Sticking your feet in and sulking if the game mechanics don’t follow the narrative you want will make an unsatisfying story no matter what game you play

Gleefully and enthusiastically stuffing your blorbo into the blender of fate, hitting Purée, and turning every stumble off the narrative path into its own adventure will give you a much deeper, more compelling, more complete story than you might have expected…

But that’s the fun part

The truest mechanism of an RPG or TTRPG has nothing to do what is written into the rules of the game

It’s your own skill at improv, and if you’ve ever been even remotely stage shy, avoided drama class, or thought improv was hard, let me reassure you:

Improv comedy is not the only improv. You don’t have to be funny

And it’s a lot easier than you might think

So long as you know your character, actually really know them beyond the backstory you created… so long as you take the time to think “well what do they do when things go wrong? What would they give to get what they want? What would it take to force them to do the things they’d never do?”

You can bullshit through basically any situation

Because there’s no rule against playing ahead in your mind

Daydream your character into any situation you think might come up, write the fanfiction version of the perfect narrative in your head, and then do the tragic version. Do the slapstick version. The gritty noire version

Because the greatest secret of improv and playing your own character is that you will never be wrong

Only you define success or failure

So long as you know and understand your characters and can be flexible with the mechanics and the story, you can always build a satisfying narrative

This is a lot more work than just being reactive and expecting the GM to tell a story for you, and just rolling dice and “hit big monster” when prompted

That’s what makes the story actually satisfying though; taking ownership of it yourself

The game belongs to the designers

The story belongs to the players, GM and PC alike

There's this idea floating around the general TTRPG space that's kind of hard to put one's finger on which I think is best articulated as "the purpose of an RPG is to produce a conventionally shaped satisfying narrative," and in this context I mean RPG as not just the game as it exists in the book but the act of play itself.

And this isn't exactly a new thing: since time immemorial people have tried to force TTRPGs to produce traditional narratives for them, often to be disappointed. I also feel this was behind a lot of the discussion that emerged from the Forge and that informed the first "narrativist" RPGs (I'm only using the word here as a shorthand: I don't think the GNS taxonomy is very useful as more than a shibboleth): that at least for some TTRPGs the creation of a story was the primary goal (heck, some of them even called themselves Storytelling games), but since those games when played as written actually ended up resisting narrative convention they were on some level dysfunctional for that purpose.

There's some truth to this but also a lot of nuance: when you get down to the roots of the hobby, the purpose of a game of D&D wasn't the production of a narrative. It was to imagine a guy and put that guy in situations, as primarily a game that challenged the player. The production of a narrative was secondary and entirely emergent.

But in the eighties you basically get the first generation of players without the background from wargames, whose impressions of RPGs aren't colored by the assumption that "it's kind of like a wargame but you only control one guy." And you start getting lots of RPGs, some of which specifically try to model specific types of stories. But because the medium is still new the tools used to achieve those stories are sometimes inelegant (even though people see the potential for telling lots of stories using the medium, they are still largely letting their designs be informed by the "wargame where you only control one guy" types of game) and players and designers alike start to realize that these systems need a bit of help to nudge the games in the direction of a satisfying narrative. Games start having lots of advice not only from the point of view of the administrative point of view of refereeing a game, but also from the point of view of treating the GM as a storyteller whose purpose is to sometimes give the rules a bit of a nudge to make the story go a certain way. What you ultimately get is Vampire: the Masquerade, which while a paradigm shift for its time is still ultimately a D&D ass game that wants to be used for the sake of telling a conventional narrative, so you get a lot of explicit advice to ignore the systems when they don't produce a satisfying story.

Anyway, the point is that in some games the production of a satisfying narrative isn't a primary design goal even when the game itself tries to portray itself as such.

But what you also get is this idea that since the production of a satisfying narrative is seen as the goal of these games (even though it isn't necessarily so), if a game (as in the act of play) doesn't produce a satisfying narrative, then the game itself must be somehow dysfunctional.

A lot of people are willing to blame this on players: the GM isn't doing enough work, a good GM can tell a good story with any system, your players aren't engaging with the game properly, your players are bad if they don't see the point in telling a greater story. When the real culprit might actually be the game system itself, or rather a misalignment between the group's desired fiction and the type of fiction that the game produces. And when players end up misidentifying what is actually an issue their group has with the system as a player issue, you end up with unhappy players fighting against the type of narrative the game itself wants to tell.

I don't think an RPG is dysfunctional even if it doesn't produce a conventionally shaped, satisfying narrative, because while I do think the act of play inevitably ends up creating an emergent narrative, that emergent narrative conforming to conventions of storytelling isn't always the primary goal of play. Conversely, a game whose systems have been built to facilitate the production of a narrative that conforms to conventions of storytelling or emulates some genre well is also hella good. But regardless, there's a lot to be said for playing games the way the games themselves present themselves as.

Your traditional challenge-based dungeon game might not produce a conventionally satisfying narrative and that's okay and it's not your or any of your players' fault. The production of a conventionally satisfying narrative as an emergent function of play was never a design goal when that challenge-based dungeon game was being made.

[pinkslipxox]

Wifey:

Summary: You loose your wedding ring and Billie comforts you

Warnings: fluff 💝

——————————————————————————

You’ve looked everywhere.

The bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, you even looked in Billie’s small at-home studio. No matter how high and low you search, you just can’t seem to find it. You’re not sure how you’ve lost it or when, and your frustration and anxiety grows with each passing second as you continue to turn the house upside down to find your wedding ring.

Guilt starts to build up inside you as you realize that Billie will be home any minute, and still no sign of your ring. How could you be so careless? It isn’t just a ring, if anything it is a symbol of Billie’s love and devotion to you, and you can’t bear the thought of seeing her reaction when she sees that you don’t have it on. You need to find it— you must.

“Where is it?!” you groan in frustration as tears begin to swell in your eyes. “Fuck!”

Suddenly, the garage door opens. You freeze in place at the realization that your wife has returned home. And you still haven’t found your ring. You have to tell her, you know you do, but that is the last thing you want to do.

“Honey! I’m home!” Billie’s teasing voice echoes the house and you take a deep breath before meeting her at the entrance.

“Hi, Billie,” you greet as sweetly as you can manage with a smile, your heart pounding against your chest.

Billie smiles, her arms reaching out to you, and she wraps you in a tight, warm embrace. “Hey, my love! I’ve missed you so much. How was your day?”

“It was great!” you chirp, and you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt hit your chest. “How was yours?”

“It was good. Tiring, though,” she replies with a chuckle as she pulls you in close, your hips touching hers. “But being home with my beautiful wife again makes it all worth it.”

It takes everything in you to not burst into tears right then and there. Billie lightly grips your chin and then molds her soft lips with yours into a sweet kiss. You melt into her, forgetting about the ring, your focus now on your wife. Billie deepens the kiss, her grip tighter around your waist as she cradles the back of your head. You can’t help but sigh blissfully, making Billie smirk against your lips, the kiss growing more passionate, hungry almost.

“Billie…” you moan as her lips travel down your neck, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom, shall we?” Billie murmurs against your skin and you instantly nod. Her hand slips into yours. The one where your ring is supposed to be. And you hold your breath when she brings it up with a curious expression on her beautiful face.

“You’re not wearing your ring,” she observes, and you bite your lower lip. “Why?”

“Billie… I-I…” you stammer, your nerves getting the best of you. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry for what?” Billie presses, her eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Y/N?”

With a sob, you hold onto Billie tightly, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. Your wife doesn’t hesitate to comfort you.

“Hey, hey…” Billie soothes, rubbing your back. “Please don’t cry, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

When you don’t answer, Billie pulls away slightly. She grips your chin, forcing you to look at her, and you’re met with her ocean blue eyes, full of concern. Her expression is stern but you can still see the tenderness in it.

“Y/N Y/M/N O’Connell, tell me what’s wrong,” Billie demands, her voice soft yet firm, locking her ocean blue eyes with yours.

“I-I lost my wedding ring! I can’t find it anywhere! I… I… I’m so sorry! Please don’t be mad at me…” you ramble, and Billie instantly softens as she pulls you into her arms again.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not mad,” Billie reassures you, kissing the top of your head.

“Promise?” You just have to be sure.

Billie chuckles softly. “Of course. I could never be mad at my girl. Ever.”

“But what do we do now?” you ask, pulling away slightly to look at her.

“We buy you a new one. Whichever one you like,” she promises and kisses your forehead.

“I just feel so bad for loosing it. You picked it out just for me, and…” you sniffle but Billie gently shushes you.

“It’s okay, Y/N. These things happen. I was honestly more worried by how upset you were.” She takes your hands in hers, squeezing them gently. “Accidents happen. You loosing your ring doesn’t make me look at you differently or love you any less. Understand, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you say softly. “I love you, Billie.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. O’Connell,” Billie hums and connects her lips with yours again.

Relief washes over you.

You have the best wife in the world.

[evermorx89]

thoughts about obx4

⚠️ obx4 spoiler alert!!!!!⚠️

hi guys! this is just my personal opinion, don’t hate me pls 😭, english is not my first language btw so if anything is wrong, i’m sorry

first of all, what the fuck they’re thinking??? killing jj? this is so unserious, i mean, he was probably everyone favorites character, he passed his WHOLE LIFE suffering and that was his end? i can’t believed that, it’s a terrible ended for the character that i’m preferred think that this is a joke for the next season.

and then, that ridiculous plot of jj not being luke’s son, he passed the last 20 years getting abused by a guy who even wasn’t he’s real father, this is so inhuman, so fucked up, and after we find out that he’s a genrett, he gets an worse father, who’s worse than luke, a father who abandoned him, and knew it that he was alive and didn’t even care about it, come on pate’s brothers you all are better than this, or maybe not.

now, sarah is pregnant and i really think is cute, BUT have you all seen the life that they all live??? how they will be able to raise a child in the middle of all this? i don’t understand why making her getting pregnant now? they really can’t wait the final season to do that?

thank god that sarah and rafe are finally making peace, that’s what i’m talking about guys! one of the only good thing that i can found in obx4 was them getting their brother and sister relationship again, i’m so happy about this, when they hug we realize that after all happened what rafe really need was his sister love, he almost crying and she forgive him OMG that kill me, i almost cry with him too, because all he need right now is a family love, after all ward did to him, he just needs their sisters, sarah and wheezie, love, and i will never get tired of saying this! he doesn’t need a relationship now, HE NEEDS FAMILY LOVE BECAUSE WARD WAS A TERRIBLE FATHER FIGURE FOR HIM, SARAH AND WHEEZIE!

and my last thought about season four is about rafe and sofia relationship… i’m really sorry guys, i think that they’re very cute, fiona and drew have an amazing chemistry between them and fiona is an AMAZING actress, but i just felt that this relationship wasn’t a real needed right now? come on, on season 2 rafe as an coke addicted, an abuse brother, and did so bad stuff with the pogues and his own sister, that the real thing that he needed was a therapist, help and a redemption arc with his sisters, sarah and wheezie, because i can’t see a better option of making rafe more human that do this and i just feel that his relationship with sofia is so undeveloped, she’s just appear from nowhere in obx3 and was put in the middle of this, just to make rafe more human? and don’t get me wrong, i love them, i don’t them to break up or something, i just don’t like what they’re doing with them, if they have a development relationship maybe i liked them more? but i just can’t had along with them, when we have a jiara development, and jarah development and a cleopope development, because i know that the pate’s brother can do it better with rafe and sofia, they just don’t know what to do with rafe’s character anymore and then they start making mess like this.

[brainddeadd]

She's a really nice woman who appears to only hate you, but it's just that she's awkward and has a crush on you

You’ve noticed that Jenna Ortega is kind to everyone—her smile is a staple on set, and she’s genuinely sweet with the cast and crew. But around you, she’s different. Reserved, curt, maybe even a little annoyed at times, she barely seems to tolerate your presence. It stings, especially since you’re pretty sure you’ve never done anything to provoke her.

It becomes something of a mystery, and her behavior only deepens it. You catch her stealing glances when she thinks you’re not looking, or she’ll blush when your shoulders accidentally brush on set. When you laugh with friends, she’s always nearby, watching with a small, guarded smile. You can’t tell if she’s irritated by you or just painfully shy.

One night, after filming a late scene, Jenna’s still around, sitting in a quiet corner with a notebook. Taking a deep breath, you decide to confront her—gently, of course, but you need to know why she seems to have an issue with you.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask, only half-joking, as you sit down across from her.

She looks taken aback, stammering slightly as her cheeks flush. “Hate you?” she repeats. “I don’t— I mean, I could never hate you.”

You blink, not expecting the softness in her voice, or the vulnerability in her eyes as she looks down, fiddling with the corner of her notebook.

“I just…” she starts, then lets out a shy laugh. “I’m really bad at this kind of thing. I guess… I just didn’t know how to talk to you.”

“Why not?” You lean in, the tension thick between you.

Jenna takes a breath, glancing up at you before looking away again. “Because I like you,” she murmurs, so quietly you almost don’t catch it.

You sit there, a little stunned, as her words sink in. She likes you. You’d imagined so many scenarios, but this wasn’t one of them. Jenna Ortega, the Jenna Ortega, had been acting strange around you because she liked you?

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but her eyes drop to the floor, and she starts to fidget with her notebook, clearly embarrassed.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “That… was probably weird. You didn’t need to know all that. I’ll just—”

“Wait,” you say quickly, reaching out before she can close herself off completely. Your fingers brush over hers, warm and steady, and she looks up at you, her expression uncertain.

You’re close enough now to see the faint freckles across her cheeks, the way her lashes cast soft shadows under her eyes. She doesn’t pull her hand away, and something about that gives you a little burst of courage.

“I thought you hated me,” you admit with a sheepish laugh, realizing how silly it sounds now. “Every time we talked, it felt like you were annoyed or, I don’t know… like I’d done something wrong.”

Jenna winces a little, but her lips twitch into a small, shy smile. “I wasn’t annoyed. It’s just… being around you makes me nervous.” Her eyes dart up to meet yours. “In a good way. Mostly.”

Your heart stumbles over itself at her admission, warmth flooding through you at the vulnerability she’s showing. Her usual confidence is nowhere to be seen, and you can’t help but find it completely endearing.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you say softly, still holding her hand, “you make me nervous, too.”

She blinks at you, a hint of surprise in her eyes, and then her smile widens, slow and sincere. The tension that had lingered between you two, the quiet distance that had once felt so insurmountable, suddenly doesn’t seem so impossible after all.

You squeeze her hand gently. “Do you maybe want to… get coffee sometime? Just the two of us?”

Jenna’s eyes brighten, a spark of excitement she’s no longer trying to hide. “Yeah,” she says, a little breathlessly. “I’d really like that.”

The two of you share a quiet smile, and in that moment, it’s like the world outside disappears. There’s only Jenna, with her soft gaze fixed on you, her fingers still tangled with yours, and the gentle promise of something new blooming between you both.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

I have been seeing this quote all over my feed in the past weeks, for good reason.

“Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again.”

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

It’s important to me, it’s something I need to hold on to, and yet to me there are also ways it feels different from the current situation. Frodo and the Shire are in terrible danger, and something terribly hard is being asked of him; but the Shire is no danger to anyone else.

What we’re in feels more like late-stage Númenor to me: seeing your society twisted and corrupted to the destruction of people both outside it and within it. Bearing responsibility for what it does with minimal ability to change it. Knowing that many people around you either support it or don’t care much.

Culpability without power.

I’m not in the US – I’m next to it, and our next election is very likely to bring in someone aligned with Trump – but this isn’t just about the US. Austria and Hungary are already far-right. France is on the edge. Russia and China are their own versions of the same thing: authoritarian, nationalist, expansionist, and targeting ethnic minorities.

This is on both sides of the Atlantic now. This isn’t WWII. No one is coming to save us. All of us are going to need to fight this in our own ways. I hope that I’m wrong, that maybe it won’t be as bad as I fear, but I can’t count on that.

I saw a post saying “don’t doomscroll”. It’s right. Don’t exhaust yourself doing things that won’t help. Take a breath. Pet your cat. Do something that comforts you.

And then, organize. Because as bad as 2016 was, I don’t think this is 2016. There’s no waiting this one out. There’s no “in four years”. It ends when we all say it does, and only then.

It doesn’t matter how powerless we feel. It doesn’t matter how futile anything seems. We have to all do what we can. We have to work together. We have to protect and aid the people who will be targeted, in whatever ways we can, and that means organization and networks and knowing each of us is not alone.

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage.

For the facing of these days.

For the facing of these days.

[ravengards-rogue]

bright as the morning, soft as the rain

sebastian (stardew valley) x reader

✧ tags : gender neutral reader, canon divergence, a lot of author liberties, alcohol, fluffy, pre-relationship, mildly suggestive but sooo mildly lol.

✧ wc : 3.4k (this is ridiculous lol)

✧ a/n : the thing to get me out of my writing slump being sdv fanfiction is hilarious.

hi! this is the first part to a silly little alternative first kiss series i have planned for the stardew romanceable characters. i think the other ones will be shorter (hopefully but lol).

i will link the rest of them as they get posted. i hope u like. rbs appreciated. also tagging @antique-remains (hi this is fang on my side blog lol)

✧ synopsis : sebastian wants to do anything but think of you. he's failing miserably on that front. sam and abigail are not helping.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

“Earth to Sebastian,” Sam snaps his fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. Sebastian jumps in his skin. “What’s with you today? If you’re not gonna take our pool playing tradition seriously, I’m not playing.”  

He swipes a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. Half-empty Joja-Cola can sits directly besides his pool stick, the faint air of smoke and liquor in the air. Right. He’s here to play pool.  

 He pinches the bridge of his nose with exasperation, shaking off the feeling before scratching the back of his neck.  

“No, sorry. I wanna play, just…give me a sec.”  

“Got something on your mind Seb?”  Abigail prods, unfortunately intuitive. Sebastian scowls at her. She stands to her feet to get closer, sitting on the edge of the pool table with her cheek turned just enough to look at him. Her smile is coy. “A certain someone, maybe?”  

His scowl deepens, lip curled in distaste. “No. Move. You’re in my way.”  

“You’re a bad liar.” Abigail says with a resigned sigh, arms crossed. “You weren’t this spacey last time you dated someone. ”  

“Fuck off,” Sebastian sighs. “It’s not like that yet.”  

Abigail grins before Sebastian can  correct the slip up. “Yet. Yet, he says.” 

Sebastian feels himself blush. “Ugh.” 

He sighs as he stands back up, leaning against his pool stick. Sam stops whatever he was doing (messing with the pool table deliberately, Sebastian assumes), taking newfound interest in the conversation.  

“Oh, you two talking about our new neighbor?” 

“Not really new. It’s been like… what a year or two almost?” Abigail adds. Sam shrugs.  

“That’s true. But it feels new to me anyway.” Sam says. He gives up on pool it seems like, abandoning his stick on the table in favor of navigating to the box pizza balancing on another table nearby and his drink. Sebastian watches him shimmy a slice of the pie, not bothering to blow on it as he eats. “Oh is that why your heads in the clouds? Figures.”  

“I didn’t say that. Abigail said that.”  

“And you’re saying she’s wrong?”  

Sebastian huffs. “…Yes.”  

Sam laughs good-naturedly. “Pfft. Uh-huh, yeah. I super believe you.”  

“Fuck you both.” 

“Come on, Seb. It’s not like everyone in town doesn’t know.”  

Sebastian’s frown deepens. “Not everyone.”  

Sam seats himself on the couch again and Abigail joins him. It creaks under the weight of them as they get comfortable together. Sebastian stays where he is, sitting on the tables edge with a drink in his hand and an itch for a cigarette.  

Sam counts on his fingers. “Your mom knows. My mom knows. Abby’s mom knows. If they all know then our dads definitely also know. Who else does that leave? Our towns tiny dude. Like I’d say Elliot doesn’t, but he’s here on Friday’s and he catches up with gossip all the time. So basically everyone.”  

“…Shit.”  

“See? Told you.”  

Sebastian doesn’t need everyone to know what’s going on between you. He doesn’t even know what’s going on between you. It’s taken him longer than he cares to admit to even acknowledge that there was something there. And he didn’t know it was mutual until recently when Abigail came dropped by to tell him she overheard her dad explaining old Pelican Town traditions on dating and romance. 

(Abigail always describes things in excruciating detail, adding all the bells and whistles. This makes her great to play the Solarion Chronicles with.  

It also makes her  good at artfully recounting interactions. He can easily picture you the way she said she saw you, overalls  half unbuttoned, dirt covered and leaning over the counter just slightly giving Pierre your rapt attention.   

The thought of it is enough to trigger some sense of affection he’s never entirely felt before.)  

It’s not like Sebastian is against the idea of dating you, it’s just— 

“I think you should go out with them Seb. I like ‘em a lot more than your exes.”  

Sebastian sighs. “You guys know why I’m on the fence.”  

Sam shrugs. “Does they even count though? They’re not actually from here. They live here sure but they didn’t grow up here.”  

“Right? That’s what I think too. Might as well go for it.” Abigail shrugs, glancing at Sebastian. “I really don’t get why you’re hesitating. Something else has to bugging you.”  

“I thought that too.” Sam adds. 

A faint blush creeps up his neck. He loves his friends and sometimes, he appreciates how well they know him. Times like this, he thinks it wouldn’t kill them to be a little less perceptive.  

They’re not wrong. It is something of a flimsy excuse to try not to think about you. Sebastian has always had a not dating policy about people he grew up with. He nearly dated Abigail in highschool and it was a shitshow. So he’s vowed to never do it again.  

But that’s not the real reason he’s been rejecting the possibility in his head. He uses it more for himself than anyone else. It’s not like he can give them the real answer because he thinks it’s one hundred times more embarrassing.  

How the fuck is he meant to tell them the reason he keeps hesitating to define your relationship is because he feels like he likes you too much?  

That’s the real reason he’s going in circles about it. It’s so cringe it makes him want to break out in hives but well, it is true. Sebastian likes you—like really fucking likes you—and it’s freaking him out because he thinks it’s the first time he’s really liked anyone.  

Dating has never been all that fun for Sebastian. It wasn’t something that felt meaningful. He dated mostly in college and only one of those relationships lasted a significant amount of time. And even then the relationship was never all that genuine. They ultimately broke up because Sebastian realized they were fundamentally incompatible. As bad as it sounds, there wasn’t a real sense of attachment there, not once. It was just convenient for both of them. He realized at that point he should probably just focus on himself.  

That was about when he moved back home to the valley to live with his family in his post graduation.  

And he had honestly expected it to be another few mundane years, akin to his early adolescence. He was so sure that he would spend it with the same restless feeling in his stomach, the same longing to be somewhere else. If he could never feel any belonging, at least he wanted to be somewhere he could blend in. He thought for sure moving back to Pelican Town was going to be nothing but dreadful and boring and existential. That he would come back and remember why he wanted to leave in the first place.  

Until one day, someone from the city moved into the old, overgrown farm and turned the entirety of the valley upside down.  

When you met for the first time, Sebastian honestly didn’t care. Nothing goes on in Pelican Town, so he figured you’d be the main subject of gossip for a few weeks before ultimately blending into the background of his life just like everyone else. He also didn’t think you’d last long living here. You were part of the corporate rat race he so detests and you didn’t grow up in the valley. It’s a hard place to get used to after living somewhere more populated.  

Against all odds  though - you did stay. And you’ve integrated yourself so much with the people living—himself included here it kind of baffles him. He doesn’t entirely remember what it was like before you came here.   

Sebastian couldn’t have predicted in a million years that that stupid help wanted sign in front of Pierre’s store would start actually being useful. But lo and behold, at least three times a week he finds you with full pockets - jogging after whomever last posted to give them what they need. And you do that without anyone really asking you too.  

You’re just so… helpful. And social in a way he can’t describe. Everyone in town has nothing but nice things to say about you. You’ve given everyone a gift on their birthday thus far. You’re keeping the entire economy afloat with your farm right now and you regularly clear those mines out for monsters. You even paid for the bus to get repaired, too - so now it’s up and running again.  

You’re full of surprises. And easy to adore, himself included.  

What surprises him most often is how easy it is for him to be around you. He doesn’t turn you away even when you visit his room sharply at 9am and hover over him in bed. He doesn’t get even the slightest bit upset when you have a mundane and disruptive conversation hours before he usually gets up. He keeps everything you’ve ever gifted him, and he often thinks of inviting you to things he does with his friends. He smiles when he sees you running around doing some chore, frantic and covered in muck - all mess and sunlight.  

You’re… nice. Honest, hard-working, and cheerful. Kind. Sincere in wanting to know him. You should completely and utterly exhaust him given those are your main characteristics. You should be someone he’s simply fundamentally incompatible with. 

But more than anything, you’re thoughtful. And it disarms him so utterly he feels overwhelmed by the thought. From the start, you put in a lot of effort into maintaining connections and he was no different. It’s just impacted him so much more than he thought it would. If he lets himself think too far on it, he really won’t stop thinking about you.  

To the point he’s been picturing what it’s like to live on the farm.  He’s in deep. 

Despite all of your idiosyncrasies, you really seem to give a shit about things in a way that feels utterly foreign to him. This extends to anything and everything. It extends to Sebastian, and it shows in the ways you don’t undermine him. Little things. You take his work seriously and apologize for disturbing him, you don’t immediately take the side of his family when he talks about them despite being friends with them too, you don’t interrogate him about what he is or is not comfortable with. You show up and linger in his life, and then you go off to your own thing. 

More and more, he gets the urge to stop you before you go. It’s too much. It makes him act…lame and he’s not too fond of it. He’s never really felt this strongly about anyone before and he’s a little bit of a wreck about what it does to him. So it’s not that he doesn’t want to date you, but more that he does so bad he doesn’t even want to admit it.  

 But well.. He isn’t sure it’s even working. As soon as you walk into a room it’s like— 

He’s lost in his thoughts for a while, only to get pulled out of them by some big commotion happening in the main part of the saloon.  

“Ah, you’re here. What perfect timing kid,”   

Shit. Shit  

Only somewhat obscured by the distance and wall separating their space from the bar - Sebastian catches a glimpse of you and feels something uncomfortably warm in his chest. His friends both make little oooh sounds, no doubt planning to do something stupid. He should intervene but he gets too caught up in pretending he doesn’t see you. Turning away stiffly, he pretends to be looking at something else while he listens on your conversation. It’s not too hard to hear, anyway.  

“Hi, Pam.” He can practically hear the smile in your voice. “Here’s your ale. Managed to grow a hops plant indoors this season so the brew is pretty fresh. It’s strong, fair warning.”  

A beat of muffle conversations follows up with a a loud sigh. “That’s exactly what I needed. Your pretty good with your liquor and spirits, huh kid? Thanks for the drink. Here’s what I owe ya.”  

“Selling alcohol under the table at my establishment? Tsk tsk.” Gus adds.  

It’s at this point Sebastian lets himself look at you properly. You lean with your elbows against the counter. You look a mess like usual, but you’ve got on a cowboy hat today that Sebastian finds ridiculously cute. You smile at Gus sheepishly.  

“Sorry. Can I buy myself a drink to make up for it?” You offer.  

“I’ll do you one better and give it to you on the house.”  

“Aw, what? Can’t let you do that Gus.”  

“You can and you will. You’re always looking out for everyone. Here, it’s a nice imported IPA. Nice and cold. Have a drink and go relax. Some of your friends are here too tonight I think.”  

“Oh?”  

On cue, you turn your head to the group of them. When you and Sebastian meet eyes, you brighten visbly - all smiles. He’s so caught up in it, he doesn’t even catch Sam next to him until he throw an arm around his shoulder and waves you over.  

You weave through the tables until you cross the threshold of their little hide-out. Abigail greets you first with a short sidehug before you go over to him and Sam.  

“Hey,”  

“Hi Sam.” You pause, tilting your head. “Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than usual.”  

Sam beams. “I did! And you’re the first one to notice, other than my mom. Goes to show who my real friends are,”  

Sebastian nudges him, pulling away from his grip. “I see enough of your face everyday. There’s nothing for me to observe.”  

“It looks nice,” You add. Charming and genuine. Sam smiles at you. 

“Thanks,”  

Sebastian is weirdly jealous until you address him in conversation. “Hey to you too Sebastian.”  

His heart thumps. This is ridiculous. He swallows. “Hey. Uh. How have you been?”  

Awkward. So awkward. You smile a little and lean on the pool table besides him with your drink, taking a sip. “Good. Busy as usually getting ready for Winter. Renovated our coop recently so I’ve got a whole bunch of baby bunnies I gotta take care of. Went and bought another heater, some extra hay. Just farm stuff. Not very interesting,”  

“I find it interesting,” He replies quickly. You lip twitches in a smile.  

“I’m glad.”  

“Baby bunnies sound so cute,” Abigail adds. Sebastian glances at her as she joins the rest of them. “What else have you got in there?”  

“A little of everything. Chickens, ducks. I’ve got a void chicken too, kinda freaky. Oh and these little dino looking guys.”  

Abigail looks bright eyed. “Would it be like… weird if I asked to go over? I kinda wanna see them?”  

You laugh. “Not at all. I don’t mind. You could honestly go over whenever but it’s hard to navigate the farm if I’m not there, though I’m trying to fix that this upcoming winter.”  

You glance then at Sebastian, eyes almost sparkling. “You should come over sometime, too. You’d like the void chicken I think. And I’ve got a slime hutch.”  

Sebastian sputters at the obvious invitation only barely managing to cover up the shock to his system. You don’t seem put off, but it’s obvious you know what you’re doing. He’s going to explode.  

Abigail and Sam make not-so-subtle eye contact before Sam clears his throat.  

“Well, uh, me and Abi are gonna head out. We’ve got some stuff to catch up on, but there’s still a few hours until the saloon closes so you two should stay here and finish up  our drinks and stuff. Uh… yeah. See you again,”  

Sam nods, quickly rifling for his things. Abigail follows in his foot steps.  

“Mhm, yep. See you,”  

Sam gives him one last encouraging look before turning around and leaving. The two of them scurry off in a blink of an eye, before Sebastian can get a single word in about the situation or tell them to stay. And now he’s alone with you, quietly wondering if it’s as awkward as it feels.  

You’re the one to break the ice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”  

Sebastian blinks. “Uh no. Not really.”  

“Me either. We should stay back then, for a little while.” You offer with a shrug. “Why not, right?”  

Right. Sebastian is being really chill about this entire interaction. “Right.”  

“I’m glad I got to see you tonight,” You say, out of the blue. Sebastian nearly jumps in his skin at the admission. “I’ve been pretty busy with the growing season ending so I haven’t been you know, able to come by as often. I don’t know if it made a huge difference to you but—“ 

“It did.” He blurts out. Your mouth opens then closes again, a blush crawling up his neck as he tucks his chin in embarrassment. “It was uh, weird for me. I know you’re busy and I like my alone time but I did… miss you.” 

“Yeah?”  

He’s almost too afraid to meet your eyes. When he manages  - you’re smiling fondly, sweetly with a sense of amusement. It rolls off of you in waves and it becomes clear to him in that split second that you don’t really intend to hide how you feel despite him being so hellbent on making sure he does. You’re not hiding that you like him. It feels stupidly warm and fuzzy.  

You look like you’ve been working all day and you smell a little like grass and rain in a way that makes him want to draw that much closer to you. So he does, leaving into your space.  

“Yeah.” He manages, barely getting the words out without being a complete wreck. “It’s new for me.”  

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever they say.” And then, even more sweetly. “I missed you too.”  

Fuck. You’re… fuck.  

Sebastian pretends to wipe something from his face just to cover it and make his blush less obvious. This is embarrassing. He likes you so much and for what.  

There’s a million things he wants to tell you but he can’t find the words for any of them. So he tucks in on himself and wonders how the fuck he would ever go about actually dating you.  

You inch closer to him. Tentative, until your thighs are touching. He doesn’t move away.  

Suddenly, you’re close to him than you’ve ever been. Looking from the corner of your eye, Sebastian turns his head to meet your gaze. You’re an inch apart, and he’s looking at your lips - slightly chapped from the weather. The faint scent of alcohol on your breath makes him dizzy. Your smile is what does him in ultimately. A subtle tug at the corners of your mouth, a little teeth. Something about it precious.  

“Hey,” You mutter.  

“Hm,”  

“Can I kiss you?” 

He responds with leaning forward to do it first. It’s chaste and easy, and he does it because you’ve already taken so many first steps and he should, at least, take this one. So he leans into kiss you and it feels like his whole body is melting. It’s brief and light and he pulls away before it feels like it should be over.  

You part for a breath, a single heartbeat - before your hands go up to cradle the side of his face. You kiss him deeper that time. A real kiss where he can taste you enough to know that you drank - one he would only want to do in the privacy of this confined spaced. He feels you in your entirety  - returns your gesture with a careful hand on your waist that you don’t pull away from.  

And it doesn’t stop. Like neither of you want it too, despite everything else. Despite the fact he’s doing this in the bar of his hometown where everyone will gossip about it without doubt, and despite knowing that  - the drive to kiss you is stronger than his usual sensibilities. So you kiss and kiss and kiss, short presses followed by long, firm ones. A slight brush of tongue, the soft nip of teeth as you tease and tug. All mirth and amusement and fondness and bravery and god he is so into you it’s ridiculous.  

You manage to pull away from each other after a while. His lips are tingly. And there’s a sheepishness to you both that makes it hard for him to look your way.  

“Hey, Sebastian.”  

He clears his throat.  

“Uh. Yeah?”  

“I’m gonna ask you out tomorrow. Properly.”  

He blushes. “…I’d be cool with that.”  

You grin. “Yeah?”   

Shit he’s happy. He is not gonna get a lick of sleep tonight. He smiles a little to himself.  

“Yeah.”  

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[cupidhoons]

🛋️ SAY IT — PSH

in which . . . communication comes into play when in need — psh x f! reader ୨୧ est relationship! au wc tba ・ w kissing, light angst, sunghoon is bad at saying his feelings, lowk projected on sunghoon lmao + likes n' feedback are greatly appreciated !

A/N 💌 i know this is my 3rd sunghoon work on this account but idc!! sunghoon is my man 😂😂😂😂😛😛😛🔥🔥🔥 cupidhoons nation is so back....i Fink....also thank you for all the love on my jake work!! luv u all :)

"IF YOU LOVE ME, BABY, LET ME HEAR YOU SAY IT."

The words escape your lips before you can stop them, and for a moment, you want to reach out, to catch them in the air, to take them back. But it’s too late now. They hang between you and Sunghoon in the dimly lit living room, where the shadows deepen the silence around you.

The night feels quiet, too quiet, as if it’s holding its breath with you. Outside, a car hums softly in the distance, and the faint scent of rain lingers in the air from a quick drizzle earlier in the evening. Everything feels heavy—especially the silence between you and him.

Sunghoon shifts on the other side of the couch, his posture stiff as he looks away from you. You can’t read his expression from here, but his hands fidget with the cuff of his sweater. He’s always been composed, cool, almost unbothered. But now, you catch the briefest hint of vulnerability breaking through.

You hug your knees to your chest, wishing you hadn’t said anything, wishing the words hadn’t escaped so easily. But it’s been building up for a while now. Each little unspoken moment, every lingering look, all the times he showed up when you needed him without you even asking. It’s like he’s always there—but you’ve never heard him say it, never heard the words that would solidify what you’ve both been dancing around.

“Maybe that was too much,” you murmur, trying to ease the tension, though your heart sinks a little at the admission. “I know you’re not the most… vocal.”

He glances at you, his jaw tight, and you wonder if he’s angry or frustrated or maybe just as unsure as you are. It’s so rare to see him falter that it almost makes you feel worse. His confidence, the easygoing nature he wears like armor, seems to crumble, just a bit.

“It’s not too much,” he says finally, voice low but steady. “It’s just… new.”

He looks down at his hands, his fingers still pulling at the edges of his sleeve. You watch the small movement, that simple fidget, and it feels like you’re seeing a version of Sunghoon he doesn’t often show. Your heart aches, but there’s a warmth there too, a small reassurance that maybe this means something to him too.

“New doesn’t mean bad,” you whisper, taking a chance as you edge a little closer to him on the couch. “We’ve been… whatever this is, for a while now. I just thought…” You trail off, not quite able to finish the thought, afraid of pushing him too far.

He looks up at you, and for a moment, there’s a softness in his eyes, a gentleness that feels almost overwhelming. “I’m not used to saying those kinds of things,” he admits, his voice a little softer now, a little more open. “Not because I don’t feel them, but because I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing. That maybe… it won’t be enough.”

You realize he’s always been someone who expresses himself in other ways—through the small gestures, like remembering to bring your favorite drink, or giving you his jacket without a word when you shiver, or even just sitting with you in comfortable silence when words feel too heavy.

Your hand reaches out, hesitantly, and gently rests on top of his. You feel the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, his fingers stilling as they instinctively relax under your hand. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Sunghoon. I just want to know that it’s real.”

His gaze shifts to your hand on his, his fingers turning slowly to intertwine with yours. The movement is slow, almost careful, like he’s testing out the weight of the feeling. He doesn’t let go.

“I don’t know how to say it the way you might want to hear it,” he says, finally meeting your eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… when I’m with you, it feels like everything makes sense. Like I don’t have to try to be someone else, because you see me as I am. And that… that matters to me.”

Your breath catches. It’s not a declaration of love, not in the way you might have imagined, but somehow it feels even more real, like he’s opening up a piece of himself he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

He shifts closer, his hand still holding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that makes your heart race. “I care about you,” he murmurs, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. “More than I thought I ever could.”

The room feels warmer, like everything is slowing down, grounding you in this moment with him. And for the first time, you realize that his silence, his hesitations, aren’t because he doesn’t care—but because he cares so much, he doesn’t want to risk saying something that might hurt you.

You smile softly, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, a rare, genuine smile that reaches his eyes. He leans a little closer, his free hand coming up to gently cup your face. You feel your heart race, the warmth of his touch grounding you as he leans in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead. It’s gentle, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment, but there’s a tenderness there that says more than words ever could.

When he pulls back, his gaze lingers on you, his eyes filled with a quiet promise.

“Just… be patient with me,” he whispers. “I might not say it often, but… I’ll show you. In all the ways I can.”

You nod, your heart feeling lighter than it has in days, maybe even weeks. Because now you understand—you don’t need grand gestures or perfect words. You just need him, here with you, in these little moments, his hand in yours and his quiet, steady presence filling up all the empty spaces in your heart.

And for tonight, that’s enough.

[theonlyhonoredone]

Satoru BF Headcanons

Pairing: Satoru x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: my idea of how Satoru is as a partner

Masterlist

bf!Satoru who is absolutely obsessed with you, you can do no wrong in his eyes and he will blindly side with you on anything and everything. Giving you absolute princess treatment and never letting you lift a finger when you’re with him.

bf!Satoru is super clingy and spends every moment he can with you. He wants your attention on him no matter what and he does not care if that means annoying you or embarrassing himself. Anytime he comes home from a mission he claims he’s been so exhausted that he simply needs you to stay in the house and cuddle with him for hours until he’s rejuvenated. Of course you know he’s lying, you always agree though, and remind him that he doesn’t need to make excuses to get you so snuggle with him.

bf!Satoru already knows this but he likes the dramatics and sees his begging as a way to remind you of how much he loves you and how essential you are to his happiness. Since he often has to leave for missions you don’t get as much time together as either of you would like, so he always wants to make sure you know how much he appreciates you. 

bf!Satoru can be immature and annoying, but he also knows the importance of making his partner feel loved. He’ll spoil you in every way possible, with material goods, big romantic gestures, and sweet things he whispers so only you can hear. He

bf!Satoru brags about you to everyone who will listen, any event you attend features Satoru telling every person there how pretty and wonderful you are. Even in the middle of a fight he never has a bad thing to say about you, he can’t stand the idea of you ever feeling insecure in your relationship. He always makes sure you know you're the center of his universe.

bf!Satoru is eternally doting and loving but he still has his fair share of annoying habits. He’s immature in a lot of ways, not cleaning up after himself or teasing you about sensitive subjects. He certainly knows how to get on your nerves, but he also knows when he’s gone too far. He has no qualms about apologizing and while he is reluctant to give you space (he’d rather solve any issues as soon as they arrive) he will if you ask him. He doesn’t believe in going to bed angry and will always push to solve issues before you go to sleep. 

bf!Satoru is naturally protective, and certainly crosses the line into being overprotective around you. You rarely go on missions together because of this, but you're always there to take care of each other when you get home. Outside of work you don’t mind his overprotectiveness as much, it often shows in strange ways you find quite endearing. He’ll carry you over mud puddles and make sure he’s always on the outside of the sidewalk, often he extends his infinity to you when you’re out to ensure your safety. He let’s the students pick on him all they want, but if they try it with you he’ll assign them detention or challenge them to a fight. 

bf!Satoru gets along with your friends wonderfully. He loves when you invite him to girl’s night and he gets to participate in the gossip. He’s always especially interested in the romantic escapades of your friends, assuring them he has the best dating advice because he managed to get you to date him after all. He gets pouty when other boyfriends are brought along because he feels more special when he’s the only one that gets to come. His protectiveness of you extends to your friends too, he’s examining every drink you all order with his six eyes and he’s always happy to be the sober driver. 

bf!Satoru works hard to make sure you know how loved you are and needs the same assurance from you. He loves any gesture that shows you were thinking of him. Picking him up his favorite sweet or sneaking a note into his suitcase before a trip is enough to make his whole week.

bf!Satoru loves laying in bed, his head on your chest and your hand massaging his scalp. It’s the only time he can truly relax. He loves when you lay there and you pour your heart out to him, tell him how much you love and appreciate him and how he is your world as much as you are his. He loves pda, but treasures your moments alone much more. He loves feeling like it's just the two of you in the universe.

bf!Satoru loves the sound of your voice and finds it more comforting than anything on earth. If he’s having a bad day he’ll ask you to read to him or sing to him while he falls asleep. He doesn’t care if it’s over the phone or in person, or whether or not you think you're a good singer. To him your voice is the sweetest thing in the world. If you notice he’s upset and offer to read to him or sing to him it’ll melt his heart and maybe even make him cry. 

bf!Satoru only lets himself be vulnerable with you. He’ll tell you everything about him, his life and feelings are an open book. He needs that sort of communication from you too. Every random story you tell him is committed to his memory. His favorite dates are ones where you can spend hours talking and filling each other in on every little thing that’s happened in your lives.

bf!Satoru is ready to get married the moment he lays his eyes on you. He knows instantly that you’re the one for him and never questions that for the rest of his life. You are his soul mate and his other half. He believes there’s a gold string tying your souls together and he considers himself incredibly lucky to be tied to you. 

[kkayyerr]

S1!Rafe Cameron caregiver headcanons.

– The first time you would tell Rafe about your age regression he would be so confused. He definitely never had heard about that before, but to your surprise he won’t judge you and even would try to educate himself on that topic.

– It would take time, but he’ll get there.

– Doesn’t mean that he would be a classic caregiver, though.

– He will give you cigarettes if you ask nicely, but only to make his point about you being too little to actually smoke.

– „What’s wrong, baby? Your cuffing, I guess smoking isn’t for the little girls after all, right?”

– He would mock you a lot. Like A LOT.

– „What happened, little one? Need daddy to hold you? Where is my sweet Mrs. independent?"

– Topper and Kelce would also mock and tease you a lot, which would only make you hide your pretty face in the Rafe’s neck, hugging him tighter.

– Overprotective.

– Especially when he sees you around Pogues.

– „I warn you, if you even think about leaving my side tonight I’ll get you a leash, baby.”

– He won’t actually called it age regression out loud, so you won’t get embarrassed.

– „Baby, you know I want you near me when you….well in that state.”

– He’s not very touchy person, but he loves hugging you and make you feel comfortable. He won’t admit it, though.

– Hold your hand when both of you are in public. All. The. Time.

– Won’t let Sarah babysit you because of the „bad influence” which would make you so confused.

– „Sarah are a bad girl, baby. You wanna be my good little girl, right?”

– Probably won’t let anyone near you when you’re in the littlespace.

– Won’t let you near his deals with Barry.

– „My baby, you’re mine.”

– It’s hard for him to believe that you actually love him unconditionally. But he’ll try.

– Loves to give you rides on his bike, because of how tightly you’ll hold him from behind.

– „Baby, you’re gonna squeeze me to death”

– Kisses on the cheeks and head pats when you’re behaving.

– Warning gazes when you don’t.

– Loves to see you struggle to ask for something or just speak directly to him.

– „C’mon, use your big girl words."

– Buy you stuffies and other cute things (when all his money not invested in drugs.)

– „So you named that teddy bear after me? Well, I think I’m starting to get jealous.”

– At the end of the day, Rafe Cameron might not be a cliché caregiver, but that doesn’t mean that his little girl isn’t the most precious thing that he has in his life.

[astronicht]

23 or 24 for rosquez 🙏🙏

24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

I wrote a kind of soft one for the thigh-grabbing prompt and this is uh not like that. keeping the universe in balance! sorry in advance i guess. Kind of a companion piece, actually, to this earlier rosquez prompt snippet.

Valentino shakes awake from a dream in which someone is dead. The point at which there is a jolt into wakefulness is unclear. 

Daylight is too bright across the bed, and he can smell his own sweat. He reaches for Marc, but he isn’t used to Marc being here and goes for the wrong side of the bed. Valentino’s hand knocks over a glass of water, and a carton of pills on the side table. They skid onto the tile.

Marc isn’t in bed, exactly. He’s sitting on it, legs crossed, staring down at Valentino from the other side. One hand is braced on the mattress, taking a lot of his weight. He likes to put his weight on his bad arm, over and over. Valentino has seen him do it even when he thinks he is alone.

His good arm is holding a little espresso cup from the ranch kitchen. He is noticing Valentino’s mad scramble, but a little too slowly. His face is blank and far away.

Sometimes Marc goes very distant. It would be better if it were personal, but Valentino thinks it isn’t. He thinks the only person Marc can bear to stay present with, always, is his brother. For Valentino, this is much worse than if he simply couldn’t do it with anyone at all. It feels like penance.

“Vale?” Marc asks, that awful blankness creasing into a frown. The sharp nausea of the dream recedes, though someone is still dead.

Valentino rolls onto his elbows and stomach and rests his forehead on the mattress. He breathes, awful and shaky, but it’s better to get the bad breaths out until he’s running clean again.

“Vale?” Marc says again. His voice is less flat; he’s almost present, now. The smell of the espresso is overpowering.

“Marc,” Valentino says. His voice sounds like shit. His arms and thighs are a little tired, from fucking. “Did you figure out the espresso machine?”

“No,” Marc says slowly. The bed shifts. “No one will touch it. Bezzecchi made me a Turkish coffee.”

He’s lying. Marco doesn’t know how to make Turkish coffee, and if he did he wouldn’t be making one for Marc. It will have been Pecco. Vale is a little surprised. This means Pecco both arrived on time for morning practice and made Marc a coffee.

No one can actually work the espresso machine except for Vale, and previously, Uccio. There is no point mentioning this because Valentino does not say Uccio’s name to Marc.

The shaking is stopping. But like payback, the dropping feeling in his chest is getting worse. Valentino blinks his eyes open: bedding below him. It smells like semen. To his right is Marc, shifting, coming closer from wherever his mind was. There is a dripping sound: the glass Valentino knocked over on the nightstand. It is just water, but now it’s mostly on the floor.

He remembers reaching for Marc, because someone was dead. He had not been reaching for comfort. He had needed Marc or needed to be ill. This has not really changed.

“Is the coffee good?”

“Yeah,” Marc says. “Tell Bezzecchi nice job.”

That would be funny.

“Are you done, then?” Valentino asks.

“Sure,” says Marc.

Valentino grabs the back of his t-shirt and yanks backwards. He’s not delicate about it, and Marc instinctively snatches up the bad arm. He falls backwards onto the bed. He also lied about being done with the Turkish coffee; it splatters across Valentino’s chest and the shirt he fell asleep in sometime around six in the morning. It’s cold; Marc hadn’t even been drinking it. The smell is sweet and strong. The espresso cup hits the mattress and then thumps on the floor, trailing cold coffee grounds. You can read those like a palm or tea leaves, Vale has heard.

Valentino rolls onto Marc’s back. Under him, Marc tries to go up on his elbows— tries to lean on the bad one, lean on the bad one. Valentino grunts and doesn’t let him. It’s worth the effort: Marc groans, and says “Yeah, please—.” 

Vale fists a hand in his hair. Coffee grounds are between Vale’s fingers. His heart is going too fast.

They can’t have fucked that long ago, because they fucked at dawn right before Valentino fell asleep. Marc slept, off and on, cat-napping through Valentino’s long night, occasionally blinking like some nocturnal animal, once crying because Valentino made him come and then put Marc’s dick in his mouth and made him come again. 

Vale doesn’t know if it’s been an hour or if it’s been five since he last fucked Marc. Will he be able to get it up? He’d better. He needs to.

He holds Marc down on the bed with one hand at the back of Marc’s neck and with the other fishes around on the floor for the blister pack of pills. He gets one out with a near-steady hand and swallows it dry. Should work in twenty minutes, but Valentino has always burned through things fast, so it will be less.

Marc sees but ignores this. Valentino gets back on top of him and yanks his boxer-briefs down, nothing else. Marc says, “Ah—shit,” and arches his back. 

Valentino leans up and spreads his ass, spits on his hole. He can already feel himself starting to get hard; the pill wasn’t needed after all. Ah, well. Funny story later. His brain says that loudly over the feeling of sex: Funny story later. And, Someone is dead. He was dreaming. Water dripping. Marc on his bed here in Tavullia, first mask-like, now under him, moaning and twisting when Vale bites the back of his neck. 

Valentino wants to pound into him: ball-slapping, basic porn stuff. It is sort of crazy how he cannot stop thinking about it over and over, all night, not missing a moment. Marc was asleep a lot of the time, so Vale just watched him and wanted it, grinding his teeth, enjoying the wait — and waiting to need a break, to need a minute, a coffee, a nap. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, just knows he did sleep because of the nightmare. Marc under the line of his body bucks and says Valentino’s name.

Valentino rests his chin on Marc’s shoulder, and tries not to show that he’s breathless from holding Marc down the way Marc wants. He says into the shell of Marc’s ear, “Where did you go, hm? Have you been wandering around?”

And Marc laughs — a wheeze under Valentino’s body, as heavy as he can make it for Marc — and moans and says, eyes shut, “You were only asleep for twenty minutes.”