#my tolerance is low today i guess

[terrainofheartfelt]

If one more man pesters me in an email about shit that is NOT my job I swear to god

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[elbiotipo]

This is from one of my worldbuilding posts in response at the bias of temperate climates being considered the "default" in fantasy and fiction in general (so these are tags in response to tags in another post but try to keep up)

This is very true, and as someone from a subtropical region who has never truly seen snow, to me the danger that cold weather represents is, let's use the word, "exotic" when I read into writing. Things do get cold here, but the fact that there are entire months where things get cold enough that nothing grows and staying outside can outright kill you is not something I would get used to easily.

This is ESPECIALLY relevant when you're doing worldbuilding on pre-industrial societies. Nowadays we can go to the store in the deep of winter, but when most of the population is composed of subsistence farmers, the above dangers are more than fatal. In temperate regions, a great deal of effort in daily life was spent into getting ready for the winter; storing harvested crops and meat in one way or the other until the spring. A harsh winter or a bad harvest could and did mean people just starved to death.

In tropical and subtropical regions, you don't usually get a season where nothing grows. Actually, you do, most have a rainy and a dry season of some sort (in my region, you do get a relatively strong winter, but the main difference is rainy/dry), so the pace of life is regulated by rain, and there's also a greater diversity of crops (see for example the milpa/three sisters system of the Americas, still used today). It doesn't necessarily mean that tropical and subtropical regions had better food all the time, since they also faced the same challenges of dealing with bad harvests, droughts, and more (DROUGHTS, especially, are the kind of civilization-ending event), but they did sustain overall high population densities and extensive systems of irrigation. I'll admit I read this long ago and don't know where to look at it, but a good comparison would be the higher density of villages and small plots in rice-producing regions compared to those in more temperate places. The Americas were completely disrupted by European colonization so it's hard to make sweeping statements about them but if we believe 1491's research (there are some points in dispute there), they had very, very high population densities, and partly this must be because of year-round cultivation of a great variety of tropical and subtropical crops.

Indeed, cold places far away from fishing, for example, often had low populations because there simply wasn't enough reliable crops to support them. Until the widespread adoption of a calorie rich crop that can tolerate cold conditions. Can you guess which it is?

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Ok, I just read your sweet yandere post and would like to add something.

I love the idea of like a mafia boss yandere or someone who is usually cruel (like maybe a Hades sort of character) but is an absolute sweet heart to their darling. One of my fave tropes

OOOOOOH I LOVE THIS TROPE! I have a character who's just like this actually, a total sweetheart to whoever he's with but has a very low tolerance for most other people.

Sorry, this is a long one lol

I'm gonna make headcanons now because you've inspired me lol.

(Banner/divider credit goes to @cafekitsune)!

Tw: Kidnapping, mentions of violence

Mafia boss! Charlie who is no stranger to violence. He's lived his entire life surrounded by it, in fact. Having a mafia boss for a father will do that to you, he guesses.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's spent his whole life working for the mafia, being trained to kill, smuggle, and deal ever since he was a child. He grew up living a life of crime, rising up the ranks (thanks to his father), before taking over as the boss when his father was killed by an unruly client.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's a cruel, ruthless man. He's killed dozens of people, injured many more, and runs his organization with an iron fist. He may be young, but he's learned enough to know that any show of trust, any display of kindness is a show of weakness, a show of vulnerability. He can't afford that, not when he's the head of the mafia, so he makes sure to make it so that no one will question or challenge his authority by any means necessary.

Mafia boss! Charlie who has very few real friends, keeping those he does have at an arm's length. He'd rather die than admit that he craves real relationships, that he desires to make genuine, true connections with others. But he can't, so he pushes his wants to the side, reminding himself that his only purpose is to keep his business running smoothly, nothing more.

Until he sees you, that is.

Mafia boss! Charlie who meets you out on a grocery run one day. Your interaction is nothing special, at least to you, but Charlie can't help but marvel at how easily you make conversation with him while ringing up his items, how seemingly unfazed you are by his snappy attitude and unapproachable appearance. It's been a long, long time since he's met anyone unafraid of him, and those people are usually rivals who are too cocky for their own good. So this, this is new. He knows it's stupid, he knows that your tiny interaction shouldn't have mattered much to someone like him, but he can't help but feel giddy about the connection he's sure he felt.

Mafia boss! Charlie who, against his better judgment, wastes no time in trying to find out who you are. It's not hard, he has an entire organization full of trained trackers, stalkers, and informants at his disposal, and by the end of the day, he has your full name, address, social media accounts, family tree, medical records, and much more safely in his welcoming hands. He knows this is a bit overkill considering he only met you today and your interaction lasted five minutes at most, but now that he has a taste of real human interaction, he's addicted. He needs more.

Mafia boss! Charlie who quickly becomes awestruck and obsessed with you. His whole life, he's been surrounded by the craftiest, cruelest, most violent people imaginable, so to see someone, especially someone as precious as you, live a completely normal life, naive to the dangers he faces everyday? It's captivating! Of course, he can't follow you all day, he is a mafia boss after all, but he has enough people following you around and recording your every move that he doesn't need to! He's never been happier to be who his is than now.

Mafia boss! Charlie who thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. You're a sweet little thing, too gentle and too unaware of the dangers around you for your own good. He loves everything about you, no matter how weird or embarrassing. He's content to watch you carefully for a couple months, but as time goes on, his need to feel our touch, to talk to you, to see you face to face is too much. He needs you. He needs you NOW. It doesn't help that you're so vulnerable and weak compared to him, with no knowledge of weaponry or stealth to keep you safe. What if someone were to try and hurt you? Of course, his goons wouldn't let that happen, not if they wanted to keep their organs, but he would feel so much better if he could keep an eye on you personally. Not to mention, every mafia boss needs a spouse, and some of his higher ranking associates have been hinting that it's about time he found someone...

Mafia boss! Charlie who immediately starts planning your "transfer" to his house, meticulously drafting out every last detail to secure your safety. He chooses his best, most skilled employees to carry out his plan, only the best for his darling, and sends them out to bring you "home". That day you come home from work, completely unaware of the people in your apartment, completely unaware of the sleeping pills dumped into your water while you weren't looking.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's ecstatic to finally have you with him, to finally have someone to hold, to talk to, to love. He brings your unconscious body to your new room, laying you softly on the bed while instructing his employees to pack up all your belongings and bring them to him. He doesn't tie you down or chain you up, he has enough security measures in place to make sure you won't be able to escape. You won't even be able to leave your room without him being notified.

Mafia boss! Charlie who watches the camera in your room as you wake up for the first time in your new home, confused and disoriented. All of your stuff is here, but this is NOT your apartment. Where are you? He watches as you start to freak out, guilt flashing through him for the first time in his life. He doesn't want you to be scared, he just wants to keep you safe!

Mafia boss! Charlie who sends one of his gentler employees into your room to explain everything, too afraid of scaring you even further by showing up himself. He waits a few days before revealing himself to you, when your terror has calmed down and you've become more familiar with your surroundings. He kind of just stands there, unable to formulate a sentence, which is extremely unnerving to you. You've been told you're to be married to a highly respected and violent mafia boss, and here he is, just...staring. When he opens his mouth to speak, your surprised at how soft his voice is, calmly explaining to you that you're safe, you won't be hurt. He reaches out his hand to touch you, but recoils when you flinch, not wanting to push you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who does everything he can to make you more comfortable and less afraid of him, getting you anything and everything you've ever shown interest in, giving you as much space as you need, and letting you roam the rather large house freely. All you can't do is leave. He doesn't understand why you're still so scared, sure he's a criminal, but he promised he would never hurt you!

Mafia boss! Charlie who gets more desperate for your love as time goes on. He starts appearing in whatever room your in, softly talking to you about his day or about whatever you're doing, trying to get you to be more comfortable with him. Once you've gotten used to that, he starting slowly initiating physical contact, holding you in his arms like he's never going to let you go (because he won't). He tried his hardest not to push your boundaries, but eventually his need to be near you becomes too great. Rest assured though, he would never, ever dream of hurting you or purposely scaring you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who can't get enough of the feeling of your skin on his. He starts hugging/cuddling you whenever he can, holding you like you'll break if he presses too hard. He's always near you, cuddling up to you while telling you about how much he loves you, adoration shining in his eyes. He's the clingiest at night though, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall asleep, him watching over you until he succumbs to his own tiredness. And his kisses? They are the softest, fluffiest thing you've ever felt. He cannot get enough of your lips, and he always kisses you passionately, like you'll disappear once he separates from you. With how loving and gentle he is, it doesn't take long for you to start loving him back.

Mafia boss! Charlie who starts giving you more privileges the farther you fall into stockholm. He'll even start taking you out in public on dates once he thinks there's no chance of you trying to escape him. He'd be able to find you if you did, he has many, many connections, but he trusts you won't. He loves going out with you and doing normal, coupley things with you, it's a nice break from his usual, violent life.

Mafia boss! Charlie who is insanely protective of you, never leaving you alone in a room with anyone except for himself. He knows how dangerous it is to be associated with him and now that he has you, he refuses to let anything happen to you. Any rival who attempts to hurt, kill, or kidnap you is met with Charlie himself, who enacts the most brutal, torturous death he can possibly think of on them. Nobody will come close to hurting you, he'll make sure of it. But no matter what happens, he'll always make sure you're far, far away from the violence. He never wants to subject you to the horrors he's seen (and done).

Mafia boss! Charlie who feels awful the first time you hear him raise his voice. It wasn't at you of course, he would never, ever think of yelling at his darling, you just happened to be in the room when he was meeting with one of his associates. It's scary seeing him yell, threatening brutal acts of violence on his own employee, and for the first time you realize how different he is with others than he is with you. He's quick to shut the meeting down once he realizes you're there, spending the rest of the night apologizing to you and assuring you he would never speak to you like that. This'll be the first time he truly opens up about what his job is like and why he has to be as cruel as he is, trying to help you understand why he behaved the way he did. It's difficult for him to make himself vulnerable, but he'd gladly to it if it meant easing your mind. From then on, he makes absolute sure you aren't around whenever he has to take care of business. He refuses to let you see him like that ever again.

Mafia boss! Charlie who never lets you forget how much he needs you in his life. You're the only thing keeping him from devolving into insanity, he wouldn't know how to handle himself if you were gone. He'll give you everything and anything if you listen to him and stay by his side, so please... please don't try to leave him.

Not that you would be able to, anyway.

[mia-can-yap-too]

Diamond-less Disaster

What?:- The Blue Lock boys try to ask you out! Except they're in 'Episodes – Choose your Story' and don't have enough diamonds...

Warnings:- Crack, isagi crying from embarrassent (not in front of the huzz tho), rin uses plant flirtation tactics, kaiser is so confident im pretty sure its almost OOC

Who:- Isagi Yoichi, Itoshi Rin, Micheal Kaiser

Isagi Yoichi

Isagi doesn't know how he did it, but somehow, he convinced you to join him on his early morning runs.

It went quite smoothly, actually. He slowed his pace to match yours and occasionally switched to a light jog so it would be easier to hold a conversation with you.

The only downside was that both of you forgot to bring water bottles. Fortunately, you spot a vending machine nearby.

Isagi, ever the gentleman, pays for your waters and sits down next to you.

Still panting, he takes a minute to admire you. Even in your sweaty-hair-stuck-to-your-forehead-and-face-red-from-running glory, you are no less than the sun to him.

Tell her you like her

[15 💎] Ask her out to a date later

[Free] Stand five feet away, wave awkwardly, and say "I respect oxygen"

All of a sudden, Isagi stands up and waves at you, nervously.

Raising your eyebrows and giving your own awkward wave, you ask, "Are you... alright?"

"I... respect oxygen."

"What?"

"I mean... you breathe... good?"

He looks like he's about to cry out of embarrassment, but no, he has to be a man. And real men keep going even in the trenches.

"I uh... meant that oxygen is so useful, like wow, I'm so grateful. I mean... the trees are sure working overtime for us, huh? Go, Mother Nature! O2, wow, couldn't live without it..."

You are weirded out. Like, incredibly weirded out. "I guess... I didn’t know you were so passionate about oxygen..."

He doesn't meet your eyes. He can never meet your eyes again if he wants his dignity intact.

Face as red as the faux tomatos you were throwing at him in his head, he pretends to be shocked as he looks at his watch.

"Oh no...! I have practice with... Kaiser! We're the best of buddies, so I can't leave him hanging, you know? So, I have to go. Like, right now. Sorry for leaving you like this," he starts walking backwards, "Okay? Okay. Bye!"

It's a full-on sprint now. He is definitely crying from embarrassment now.

You've chosen humiliation. Confidence -20

Itoshi Rin

The classroom you're in is quiet, the perfect environment for you to peacefully doodle in.

That is, of course, before Rin enters like a glitchy DLC character that no one paid for. [a/n:- im lying yall would play just for him smh]

Rin has been hyping himself up for this all week. Today, he will confess to you. No matter what.

Okay. Just talk. Be normal. Be cool. Compliment her. Compliments are free, right?

You've never opened up to anyone before. Let her in.

[30 💎] "You calm the chaos in my head."

[Free] "If I were a plant, I'd tolerate you as my sunlight."

Apparently, compliments aren't free.

Rin opens his mouth despite it all and speaks in the most monotone voice you've ever heard.

"If I were a plant... I'd tolerate you as my sunlight."

Oh God, not another one.

Confused, you ask, "... You'd tolerate me?"

He wants to die inside. "Yeah, I wouldn't wither... Immediately. Like I usually do..."

"So... I'm not bad. Just... barely acceptable?"

Okay, now he's in the danger zone. Like, the part where you're sweating nervously and begging God to kill you with lightning or whatever works for Him.

"Some plants thrive on neglect. I could be one of those. You could be... my low-maintenance sun."

"Rin..." Oh no, now you sound worried. "That sounds so insulting and sad. Are you okay?"

"You're like... the right amount of photosynthesis. Not too much. Not too... chlorophyll-ly...?"

Why is he still trying?!

Once he realizes that he's drowing, he tries to fix it and fails miserably because the author of this fic likes chaos.

"Wait. No. Forget I said any of this."

With that, he dissappears.

Well, fuck. He should've just paid the diamonds.

You've chosen Emotional Constipation with Agricultural Undertones.

Michael Kaiser

Desperately trying to get away from all the pathetic-boy-chaos, you slip onto the rooftop to watch the sunset.

The sun is setting, and the golden hour casts a beautiful glow on you. And Micheal Kaiser.

He appears like the ghost of dramatic monologues past, and his hair glints as if he's actively photosynthesizing ego. He walks towards you with the swagger of a man who already knows your heart belongs to him. Except it doesn't.

Sweep her off her feet (not literally)

[40 💎] "The spot as the Empress to my Emperor is forever vacant for you."

[Free] Call her a peasant and throw a rose at her feet.

Nothing can deter him. Not even having a maximum of 2 diamonds.

"Kneel peasant," he smirks.

You're seriously offended. Even though you already know what's happening.

"Excuse me?!"

He dramatically pulls out a crumpled rose from somewhere inside his jacket, and looks at it as if it hold all the wealth in the world.

"This rose... was once blooming and vibrant. But now, it's withered.... just like your charm and charisma."

He drops it at your feet as if he's bestowing unknown luxuries to you.

"I bless thee."

"Did you just throw trash at me?! I bet that came from a gas station, too, asshole!" You scowl at him, and Kaiser can't understand why.

Looking as if you just praised Isagi in front of him, he starts his rant off with, "First of all, it was a roadside convenience emporium...!"

You have chosen Romantic Tyranny. -10 bitches.

a/n:- my goal as a writer is that you read my fics and think "wtf was going on in her head?" LOLOL i have never played this game so this is all based on what friends have said and tbh the choices in the game are probably much worse than this but idc

m.list

@strangergraphics for dividers

[chunniwritesalot]

lessons with the hamiltons - lh44

in which reader is a teacher, but hates kids

HIII OKAY THIS IS JUST A SILLY LITTLE THING I STARTED AND THEN I COULDN'T STOP WRITING LMAO!! i might make a part 2 if someone asks! dont mind the no lewis header i have no time to make one hahah

cw: ksi's new song mentioned, cursing maybeeee, lewis being a bighead

wc: many

“I hate kids.” You huffed as you walked into the apartment you shared with your husband, kicking off your shoes with an aggressive thud. “Hate, hate, hate them.”

It was ironic, of course. Being a teacher meant you were surrounded by children all day, one of the few jobs where you were supposed to like them—or at least tolerate them. Good thing you were also an amazing actor, masking your exhaustion with a smile every time you stepped into that classroom.

Lewis looked up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a teacher,” he said, as if reminding you of the obvious. “You’re literally paid to not hate them.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing your bag onto the floor before flopping onto the couch beside him. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for the revelation, Captain Obvious. Match my freak for once, would you?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What does that even mean? Is that… new slang or something?” He tilted his head, genuinely curious but clearly out of his depth with your words.

“Yup, some of the kids started saying it,” you replied with a sigh, running your hands through your hair. “I guess I picked up on it without thinking.”

Lewis chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You teach 12 year olds. Doesn’t it freak you out a little to be adopting their slang?”

“Nah,” you said, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. His warmth and the familiar scent of him—a mix of cologne and home—started to ease the tension you had carried through the door. “What freaks me out is how much I despise them today.”

He smiled at your melodramatic groan, rubbing small circles on your back. “What happened this time?”

“Everything. The noise, the constant whining, the way they somehow always know how to get under my skin. It's like they have a radar for it.” You shut your eyes, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s exhausting pretending to like them.”

Lewis kissed the top of your head, his voice a little softer. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You let out a long breath, feeling some of the weight lift. “I know,” you whispered. “Thank God for that.”

There was a brief moment of silence, the kind that lingered just long enough for Lewis to think you’d finally calmed down. Then you broke it with a frustrated huff.

“You know what I had to deal with today?” You asked, your voice rising with the exasperation that had been bubbling beneath the surface all evening. You didn’t wait for him to respond before launching into your story. “Two boys in my class—two—decided to break out into song right in the middle of my lesson.”

You paused for effect, locking eyes with him to emphasize the absurdity of it all. Lewis raised an eyebrow, already bracing himself for the punchline.

“And they wouldn’t shut the hell up, mate,” you finished with a dramatic flourish, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He let out a low chuckle, trying to keep a straight face. “What were they even singing?”

You groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. “Something ridiculous. Some TikTok trend or whatever, something about being on a screen and then a ring... Doesn’t matter, though—they were so off-key I couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be.”

Lewis shook his head, biting back a smile. “And let me guess, they thought they were absolutely killing it?”

You shot him a look. “Oh, of course. They were acting like they were auditioning for a Broadway show. Hand gestures, facial expressions, the works. Like, I was just waiting for them to ask for a standing ovation.”

Lewis laughed outright at that, the sound of it making you feel a little less annoyed, though you’d never admit it. “And what did you do? Join in?”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “I kicked them both out of class.”

He snorted, covering his mouth to hide his amusement. “Classic. Just no patience left today, huh?”

“None.” You sighed, leaning back and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to relax for the first time all day. “Zero tolerance for teenage karaoke. I just wanted to get through my lesson without a circus.”

“Well, Mrs. Hamilton,” Lewis teased, emphasizing your formal title with an exaggeratedly prim tone. “I’m sure you handled it all with grace and professionalism.”

You let out a scoff, shooting him a sideways glance. “Yeah, if ‘grace and professionalism’ means nearly chucking a whiteboard marker at them, then sure.”

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m sure you’re everyone’s favorite teacher,” he added, a grin tugging at his lips.

You snorted, throwing your head back against the couch dramatically. “Oh yeah, I can just feel the love. Nothing says ‘favorite teacher’ like the daily chorus of, ‘Can we go home early?’ or ‘Miss, this is so boring.’”

“They only say that because they can’t handle your brilliance,” Lewis quipped, giving you a knowing look. “You’re too much for their fragile little minds.”

“Oh, definitely. I’m just intellectually overwhelming,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. “How could they ever appreciate my passion for algebra?”

Lewis burst out laughing, pulling you closer. “Exactly. They don’t even realize they’re sitting in the presence of greatness. Legends are never appreciated in their time.”

“Legend? Please,” you said, swatting him lightly. “If anything, I’m the stuff of nightmares. The teacher who ruined their dreams of becoming TikTok stars.”

“Hey, at least you’re memorable!” Lewis smirked, leaning in a little closer. “In 20 years, they’ll be telling their kids about the time Mrs. Hamilton shut down their music career before it even began.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Fantastic. I’ll be a cautionary tale.”

“Better than being forgotten,” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “Plus, you’re probably giving them some quality meme material. They’ll thank you later.”

You shot him an amused glare. “Oh, so that’s my legacy now? Being the ‘meme teacher’?”

“Hey, memes are forever,” Lewis said with a mischievous grin. “That’s practically immortal in today’s world.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous logic. “I hate that you’re kind of right.”

Lewis leaned back, smug. “I’m always right.”

“You were just confused about slang 10 minutes ago,” you pointed out.

“Details, details,” he waved a hand dismissively. “The important thing is, your students secretly adore you. And if not, well…” He shrugged. “At least you’ve still got me.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered playfully, sinking back into his arms with a contented sigh.

“Hey, not everyone is in the presence of a seven-time Formula One World Champion!” Lewis shot back, puffing out his chest dramatically and poking your cheek for emphasis.

You groaned, shoving his hand away with a playful glare. “Your ego is huge, Lew. Like, it barely fits in this apartment.”

He smirked, unbothered. “What can I say? It’s all part of the package.”

“Oh, is that what it is? A package?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Well, I hope it comes with a refund policy because this ego is too much.”

Lewis laughed, pretending to think for a moment. “Nah, sorry, no returns. You’re stuck with me—and the ego. Non-refundable, no exchanges.”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Great. Just what I wanted. A husband and his oversized confidence.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “It’s not confidence. It’s facts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Right. ‘Facts.’ I swear, if you had an award for every time you talked about your seven championships, we’d need a separate room just for the trophies.”

Lewis grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Funny you mention that. I was just thinking we could clear out the guest room and—”

“No,” you interrupted, giving him a playful shove. “Not happening.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Fine, fine. But you can’t blame me for being proud. You did marry a legend, after all.”

You snorted. “A legend with an ego the size of a racetrack.”

“Hey, you’re the one who chose this life,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. “No refunds, remember?”

You sighed, leaning into him with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll just have to live with it.”

“Sooo,” Lewis started, drawing the word out with that familiar grin you knew meant trouble. “Ever think of wanting… kids together?”

You blinked, then slowly turned to face him, squinting suspiciously. “Kids? Together? Us?”

Lewis grinned wider, leaning in. “Yeah, you know—tiny humans that look like us, say funny things, and maybe, just maybe, follow in my footsteps. Mini-Hamiltons.” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, clearly enjoying the moment.

You raised a hand to stop him. “First of all, you’ve clearly forgotten the part where I just said I hate kids. Secondly, tiny humans that are half you? Lewis, I barely manage one of you.”

He laughed, completely unfazed. “Come on, you love me. Imagine—little curly-haired kids running around, making you laugh, driving you crazy. It’s the dream.”

You snorted. “The nightmare, you mean. I already have to keep your ego in check. Now you want me to manage a whole pack of baby egos that think they’re Formula One drivers straight out of the womb?”

“Exactly,” Lewis teased, poking your side. “Imagine—little racers, pulling wheelies on their tricycles, practicing pit stops with toy cars. We’d be unstoppable.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “No. Absolutely not. I already see it—them racing in the house, breaking things, you teaching them how to do donuts in the living room.”

Lewis gave a mock shrug. “Well, they’d have to learn from the best, right? Legacy, babe. It’s all about legacy.”

You buried your face in your hands, laughing in disbelief. “A legacy of destruction. Fantastic. Let me just call the furniture store now and order everything in crash-proof material.”

Lewis leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Okay, but imagine this: family go-kart days, mini helmets with Hamilton written across the back, and you as the team principal. We’d be unstoppable.”

“Team principal?” you deadpanned, lifting your head from your hands. “Lewis, if I’m in charge, the first thing I’m doing is banning anything with wheels in this house.”

Lewis burst out laughing, pulling you into a hug. “Alright, alright, no go-karts in the living room… yet. But seriously, can’t you see it? You’d be an amazing mom.”

You paused, softening a bit as you looked up at him. “I don’t know, Lew. I mean, if our kids inherit your energy, we might need to hire a whole pit crew just to keep up with them.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “That’s what makes it exciting. We’d make a great team.”

You sighed, half in amusement, half in surrender. “We’ll see. For now, let’s focus on surviving you, okay?”

“Deal,” Lewis said, laughing as he held you close. “But I’m telling you, one day, we’re gonna need matching family race suits.”

You groaned, but smiled. “God help me.”

-fin-

PLEASE SEND REQUESTSSSSSS IM BEGGING OMFGGG I'M FINALLY A LITTLE BIT FREE

[fuctacles]

<< 5 | 6 | 7 >>

The relief Eddie feels when Steve agrees to stay is almost like a drug itself. He still rolls a joint for each of them, of course. 

The movie is just as bad as Gareth promised, and Eddie finds himself looking at Steve almost as much as he does at the screen. With just a few puffs in, he's loose-limbed and relaxed, chuckling at the more ridiculous of the director's choices. It's a little terrifying that they know how blood looks from their own experience, but they try not to think about it right now. 

The movie is slowly coming to an end, when Eddie notices Steve's eyes drooping. He doesn't feel as tired himself, the adrenaline of their encounter fighting with his weed tolerance, but he imagines it took a lot of stress from Steve to come here. He's glad he could provide his friend with a safe space and comfort to finally relax. He plucks the almost finished joint out of his hand and Steve only blinks at him sleepily. 

"It's okay man, you can sleep here," Eddie reassures him while snuffing the joint out. "I can play you the end tomorrow."

Steve makes a noise that sounds like agreement and wraps the borrowed flannel shirt (double borrowed, since eons ago it used to be Wayne's) tighter around himself. 

Eddie watches him settle against the back of the couch and wonders what he can do to make this man feel loved and wanted. How he can overwrite whatever cruel thoughts the world has taught him. For now, all he can do is reach for the blanket on the back of the couch and hand it to Steve, who gratefully pulls it over himself. 

The memories of going to sleep are hazy, but slowly Eddie comes to while scratching the dog sleeping next to him. He hums in contentment, happy to wake up close to a warm body, even if it's just a pet. He nuzzles against its nape while scratching along its spine, his senses slowly clearing up. 

"I'm gonna go make breakfast," he says eventually. "I better see human Steve in the kitchen before I'm done."

Despite how cozy the bed is, he steps over the dog, whose tail pats loudly against the mattress. Eddie eyes him, unamused. 

"I'm serious. Only humans are getting scrambled eggs on my watch."

Twenty minutes later, he's happy to see Steve sitting at his kitchen table, dressed in the same sweatpants from last night. His chest is bare, but he'll let it slide this time. He picks up a mug from the cupboard. 

"How do you take your coffee, buddy?"

Both of them freeze. 

Eddie lets out an awkward cough, pouring coffee into the mug. 

"Sorry about that. Force of habit I guess. Uh, milk?"

"Yes, please." Steve nods so Eddie leaves enough space in the mug to pour in some milk. "No sugar."

Eddie nods, and he can feel Steve's stare on his back. 

"I don't mind," he says, and Eddie whips around to stare at him. "You calling me that. It's nice."

Eddie hums, adding milk to the coffee.

"Yeah?" He cocks his head, handing him the mug. "Here you go, buddy. Enjoy," he says and reaches out to scratch the back of Steve's head. 

He doesn't back down, even when he realizes what he's doing, and he can see that Steve reacts just as instinctually, leaning his head into the touch. But then he jolts away.

"Fuck, sorry."

Eddie frowns. 

"Don't be sorry. You're my friend, just like the dog. I can scratch you a bit."

Steve doesn't look convinced. He sips on his coffee to focus his attention elsewhere. 

"It's good, thank you," he says, licking his lips. "Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on the pan?"

"This conversation isn't over, Harrington!" Eddie declares, skipping back to the stove. Thankfully, he has a habit of making his eggs on a low fire so they turn out as creamy as possible. Scrambled eggs were the only thing in his life he was able to find patience for. 

"Any plans for today?" he asks later as he sets the plates for Steve and himself. He pours them both more coffee, remembering to add milk to Steve's. He smiles at him thankfully. 

"Not really," he shrugs. It looks like he's trying to find the right words without incriminating himself too much, so Eddie patiently waits for his next words. "All I've been doing lately is walking around the dog park, so..." he trails off.

He's implying that it's all been dog-Steve lately, human-Steve making no plans to hang out with his friends or go on dates. Eddie feels like it's his mission to change that. For whatever reason. 

"We could start preparing for the end-of-summer party," he offers. "Make a grocery list and shit and go shopping."

"It's almost a month from now," Steve points out.

"Good, plenty of time for planning."

Steve just stares at him over the rim of his mug. 

"Robin was going to help me," he says in the last-ditch attempt at being difficult. 

Eddie raises his palms.

"And I'm not stepping on her toes, but you gotta spread your friend circle a bit, man. The more the merrier."

Steve sips on his coffee, thinking about Eddie's offer. Eventually, he nods. 

"Okay. Do you have something to write on?"

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[muiitoloko]

I’m sick with fever right now and I was thinking if you could write something about Alan’s character taking care of his partner? I don’t know which one but I need a rougher and older one to contrast with the fragility of his partner and to show him out of character? If you don’t want I totally understand.

Title: A Night of Softness.

Summary: On a cold, feverish night, Judge Turpin allows a moment of warmth to break through his stern exterior, holding his wife close as she drifts into sleep.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Oh no, I hope you feel better soon! 😔 I totally get the need for some comforting care, especially from a rougher, older character who shows that soft side we don't see often. So, guess what? I’m going to write something with Judge Turpin taking care of his partner! There’s something about that contrast that makes it all the more heartwarming. Stay cozy, and I hope this story will be like a warm blanket for you! 🌟

Also read on Ao3

Judge Richard Turpin strode into the grand foyer of his opulent mansion, the sound of his boots echoing off the marble floors. He removed his hat with a swift motion, handing it to a waiting servant, while another immediately stepped forward to help him with his heavy coat. The household was well-trained, as expected, and no one dared speak unless spoken to first.

“Where is my wife?” Turpin asked, his baritone voice cold and commanding, though there was a hint of impatience in his tone. He had little tolerance for deviations from the expected order of things, and his wife’s absence from their usual evening routine was an unwelcome surprise.

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, hesitant to be the one to deliver potentially displeasing news. Finally, one of them, an older man with a bowed head, stepped forward. “Milord, the mistress is in bed,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “She has not been well today.”

Turpin’s expression darkened, his hazel eyes narrowing in suspicion. “In bed? At this hour?” he repeated, the edge in his voice sharper now. It was almost dinner time, and such behavior was unseemly for a woman of her station.

“Forgive me, milord,” the servant continued, clearly uncomfortable under Turpin’s stern gaze. “I attempted to summon the physician, but the mistress would not allow it.”

Turpin hummed to himself, a low, thoughtful sound that made the servants shift nervously on their feet. He was not a man known for his patience or his kindness, and the idea that his wife had refused medical attention both irritated and perplexed him. Without another word, he turned on his heel and began to ascend the grand staircase, his steps measured and deliberate.

As he approached the bedroom, the heavy wooden door creaked open at his touch. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to block out the waning light of the day. The large four-poster bed dominated the room, its thick, luxurious curtains partially drawn, giving it an air of seclusion.

His gaze fell upon you, lying in the center of the bed, your form half-buried under layers of blankets. Your usually bright eyes were dull with fever, and your skin, normally so fair and delicate, was pale with an unhealthy hue. Even in your weakened state, you seemed startled by his presence, your breath catching in your throat as you looked up at him.

“Milord,” you murmured weakly, your voice a mere whisper of its usual self. “I… I didn’t expect you so soon."

Turpin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he moved closer to the bed, his tall figure looming over you. He said nothing at first, simply studying you with those piercing hazel eyes that always seemed to see more than they revealed. Finally, he reached out, his hand cool against your burning forehead.

“You’re feverish,” he stated flatly, though there was an undercurrent of something else in his tone—something that almost resembled concern, though he would never admit it. “Why did you refuse the doctor?”

You hesitated, uncertain of how to answer. It was true that you had always been somewhat fragile, prone to bouts of illness that left you weak and bedridden. But you had never wanted to appear weak in his eyes, never wanted to be a burden to him. You were still so unsure of your place in his life, still so afraid that he only kept you because it suited his needs.

“I… I didn’t want to trouble you, milord,” you finally said, averting your gaze from his intense scrutiny. “It’s just a slight fever. It will pass.”

Turpin’s hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of your nightgown. “You are my wife,” he said, his voice low and stern. “It is my responsibility to ensure your well-being. I will not have you ignoring your health out of some misguided sense of not wanting to trouble me.”

His words, though harsh, carried a weight that left you momentarily speechless. It was rare for him to show any hint of concern for you, and it left you feeling more vulnerable than you cared to admit.

“I am sorry, milord,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you dared to look up at him once more. “I did not mean to worry you.”

For a moment, Turpin simply stared down at you, his expression inscrutable. Then, much to your surprise, he began to unfasten his cufflinks, rolling up his sleeves with an air of determination. Without a word, he turned and crossed the room to where a basin of water sat on a side table. He dipped a cloth into the cool water, wringing it out before returning to your side.

You watched in stunned silence as he gently pressed the damp cloth to your forehead, the coolness of it a welcome relief against your feverish skin. The action was so out of character for him, so far removed from the stern, imposing figure you had grown accustomed to, that you could hardly believe it was real.

“Rest,” he commanded softly, his voice a deep rumble that was almost soothing. “I will not leave your side until you are well again.”

You blinked up at him, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The tenderness in his touch, the quiet resolve in his voice, it was more than you had ever dared hope for. For the first time since your marriage, you felt a glimmer of something more than fear or uncertainty—a small, fragile hope that perhaps there was more to this man than the cold, calculating exterior he so often showed the world.

As you closed your eyes, allowing the cool cloth and his steady presence to lull you into a much-needed rest, you couldn’t help but wonder if, beneath all his cruelty and sternness, there was a part of him that truly cared for you—a part that, for tonight at least, was willing to show itself.

As you drifted into a feverish sleep, Turpin remained by your side, his stern gaze fixed upon you. The room was silent, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze slipped through the cracks of the old mansion. His mind, usually occupied with matters of the court and his own ambitions, was now solely focused on you—a rare occurrence that even he found unsettling.

He stood there as he had promised, unmoving, watching the rise and fall of your chest beneath the blankets. His hazel eyes, sharp and calculating in the courtroom, now softened as they traced the delicate features of your face. The fever had drained the color from your cheeks, but to him, you were still beautiful—something he had never told you, nor ever thought to. He had always believed that such sentiments were unnecessary, a weakness that had no place in his life. Yet here he was, unable to look away.

His hand, usually so firm and unyielding, hesitated before reaching out to touch a lock of your hair that had fallen across your forehead. The strands were cool and soft between his fingers, and he twirled them absently, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had never been one to show affection; it wasn’t in his nature. But there was something about the way you lay there, so vulnerable and fragile, that stirred an unfamiliar feeling within him—something that bordered on concern, though he would never admit it, not even to himself.

You murmured softly in your sleep, a faint sound that barely reached his ears, and he instinctively tightened his grip on the lock of hair, as if to reassure himself that you were still there, still breathing. The sight of you, so weakened and dependent on his care, made him uneasy. Turpin was a man accustomed to control, to power, and the thought that someone might actually rely on him, not out of fear but out of need, was a concept he had never fully grasped.

"Rest," he muttered under his breath, echoing the command he had given you earlier. His voice, even in this quiet moment, held its usual gruff authority, but there was a softness there as well—a reluctant tenderness that surprised even him.

He continued to play with your hair, his thoughts drifting to the last six months of your marriage. You had been little more than a pawn in his life, someone to fulfill the societal expectations of a man in his position. He had married you out of convenience, and perhaps a desire to possess something beautiful, something pure in his otherwise dark and corrupt world. But as he stood there, watching over you in your most vulnerable state, he couldn’t deny that you had become more to him than just a possession.

You stirred again, your fevered brow furrowing slightly, and he placed the cloth back on your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle. It was a strange thing, this care he was giving you. He had always seen himself as a man above such sentiments, a man who took what he wanted and discarded what no longer served him. But with you, it was different. You were different.

His thoughts darkened as he considered how little you knew of his true nature, how little you understood the man you had married. There was cruelty in him, a deep-seated malice that had shaped his life and his decisions. He was a man of power, a judge who had condemned countless souls to their fates without a second thought. He was feared, hated even, by those who knew him, and yet here you were, lying so trustingly in his bed, under his care.

Turpin’s grip on your hair loosened as he let out a long, measured breath. He knew he wasn’t a good man—he had never pretended to be. But for some reason, the idea of you seeing him as anything other than your protector, your husband, unsettled him. He had never cared about anyone’s opinion of him before, yet with you, it was different. The thought of you fearing him, of you seeing the darkness within him, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He withdrew his hand, letting the lock of hair fall back onto the pillow. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he straightened, his expression hardening. There was no place for softness in his life, no place for the kind of care he was showing you now. And yet, as he turned to leave the room, he found himself hesitating at the door, glancing back at you one last time.

“Sleep well, my wife,” he whispered, the words barely audible, as if he were ashamed of them.

And with that, Judge Richard Turpin left the room, the door closing softly behind him. In the quiet solitude of his grand mansion, he allowed himself to care—just this once. Because even a man as cold and cruel as Turpin could not entirely extinguish the small flicker of warmth that your presence had ignited within him.

Turpin descended the grand staircase of his opulent mansion, his mind still occupied with the image of you lying feverish in the bed upstairs. The cool marble beneath his boots was a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin that lingered on his fingertips. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the flickering candlelight cast long, ominous shadows against the ornate walls, giving the mansion an eerie, almost foreboding atmosphere.

Turpin’s expression hardened as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his sharp hazel eyes narrowing with renewed focus. The brief moment of tenderness he had shown upstairs was an anomaly, one he intended to swiftly bury beneath the weight of his usual demeanor. There was no room for weakness in his life, no place for sentimentality. He was a man of power, of control, and he would not allow himself to be swayed by fleeting emotions.

Reaching the servant’s quarters, Turpin’s presence was immediately noted by the staff, who scrambled to stand at attention, their eyes cast downward in a display of submission. He surveyed them with a cold, calculating gaze, his hooked nose casting a long shadow across his face. The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace.

"Prepare a vegetable soup," Turpin commanded, his baritone voice cutting through the air like a knife. There was no kindness in his tone, only the strict expectation that his orders would be followed without question. "It is to be brought to the mistress’s room in one hour. Ensure it is hot and well-prepared. I will not tolerate any mistakes."

The servants nodded quickly, their heads bobbing in unison like frightened animals. "Yes, milord," one of them managed to stammer, her voice trembling under his withering gaze.

Turpin’s lip curled in disdain as he dismissed them with a wave of his hand, the gesture sharp and final. "Go," he barked, his voice laced with impatience. "Do not waste my time with your idle chatter. And be silent when you deliver it—she needs rest, not your simpering voices."

The servants scurried away, eager to carry out his orders and avoid further ire. Turpin watched them go, his expression one of cold satisfaction. He had no tolerance for incompetence, especially not in his own household. He expected nothing less than perfection from those under his command, and he had long since trained his staff to fear the consequences of failure.

With the matter settled, Turpin turned on his heel and made his way toward his office. The echo of his footsteps filled the empty hallways, a sound that had long since become synonymous with his presence in the mansion. His office was a place of solitude, a sanctuary where he could immerse himself in his work and shut out the world. It was here that he plotted and schemed, where he wielded his power like a weapon, ensuring that all who crossed him would come to regret it.

The heavy wooden door to his office creaked as he pushed it open, the dark mahogany panels gleaming in the firelight. He stepped inside, the scent of leather and aged parchment filling his senses as he closed the door behind him, sealing himself off from the rest of the mansion.

Turpin crossed the room, his hand brushing against the rows of leather-bound books that lined the walls. These books contained the knowledge and the power that he had amassed over the years, a testament to his cunning and ruthlessness. He pulled out a chair from behind his imposing desk and sat down, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

As he settled into his chair, his thoughts drifted back to you, lying weak and feverish in the bed upstairs. The memory of your soft, flushed skin and the sound of your labored breathing stirred something dark within him, a desire that he had kept tightly controlled, yet one that threatened to break free.

Turpin’s fingers drummed against the surface of the desk as he considered the irony of it all—here you were, so fragile and delicate, dependent on his care, yet entirely unaware of the depths of his cruelty, of the twisted thoughts that lurked behind his stern exterior. You saw him as a protector, perhaps even as a husband who might care for you, but in truth, he was far more complicated than that.

The power he wielded over you, over everyone in his life, was intoxicating, and it pleased him to see how easily you had submitted to his authority. You were his wife in name, but in reality, you were his possession, a beautiful object that he could mold and control as he saw fit. The thought sent a thrill down his spine, and he leaned back in his chair, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

But there was something else too, something that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts—a need for something more, something that went beyond mere control. The way you had looked up at him earlier, your eyes filled with fear and uncertainty, had stirred a desire in him that he had not felt in a long time—a desire not just to possess you, but to break you, to see you fully submit to him in every way.

He imagined you again, lying in that bed, but this time, it was not illness that weakened you, but him. You would look up at him with those same fearful eyes, your body trembling under his touch, as he took what he wanted, what he believed was rightfully his. The thought of it sent a wave of heat through him, and he could feel his control slipping, his mind drifting into darker, more forbidden territories.

Turpin’s breath quickened as he considered the possibilities, his hand tightening around the armrest of his chair. He knew he should suppress these thoughts, should focus on his work, but the temptation was too strong, too alluring to resist. You were upstairs, weak and vulnerable, completely at his mercy, and the idea of taking advantage of that vulnerability was intoxicating.

He rose from his chair, his movements deliberate, as if each step required a conscious effort to suppress the darker impulses that urged him forward. He exited the office, the heavy door creaking as it closed behind him, and made his way back upstairs to the bedroom. The corridors were silent, the only sound the soft padding of his boots against the thick carpets that lined the floors.

When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, his hand resting on the doorknob as he took a deep breath. He had come here with the intention of taking advantage of your weakened state, to claim what he believed was his by right. Yet now, as he stood on the threshold, something gave him pause. A part of him—a small, buried part—whispered that this was not the way, that he was about to cross a line from which there would be no return.

He opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking softly as he stepped inside. The room was just as he had left it, dimly lit and quiet, with only the soft rustle of the curtains and the faint crackle of the fire breaking the silence. You were still asleep, your breathing shallow and even, the cool cloth he had placed on your forehead still in place.

Turpin approached the bed, his footsteps soundless on the thick carpet. He stood over you for a moment, his hazel eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face, the way your lashes fluttered slightly against your flushed cheeks. You were so peaceful, so vulnerable in your sleep, and the sight of you stirred something deep within him—a protectiveness that was at odds with the darker desires that had driven him here.

Slowly, he reached out and took hold of the edge of the blanket, gently pulling it back to reveal your form beneath. You were dressed in a simple nightgown, the fabric clinging to your feverish skin, and the sight of you like this—so soft, so helpless—made his breath hitch in his throat.

He hesitated, his hand hovering above your chest, the warmth of your body radiating up to meet his cool fingers. His intention had been clear when he first entered the room, but now, as he stood there, the reality of what he was about to do washed over him like a cold wave. You stirred slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips, and he felt a pang of guilt pierce his heart.

Turpin’s hand trembled as he lowered it to your throat, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate line of your collarbone. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it was enough to wake you from your fevered slumber. Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused at first, before they slowly came into focus on his face.

“Richard?” you murmured, your voice weak and confused as you looked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly in concern.

Turpin froze, the sound of his name on your lips jolting him back to reality. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, his breath caught in his throat as he stared down at you, his hand still resting lightly against your throat. He had come here with every intention of taking advantage of you, yet now, as you looked up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, he found that he couldn’t go through with it.

“Shh,” he finally whispered, his voice rough and strained as he pulled his hand away from your throat, the touch lingering longer than he had intended. “Go back to sleep.”

You blinked up at him, your expression softening as you realized who he was. “Richard… I… I was dreaming,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep as you reached up to touch his hand, the gesture weak but full of trust. “Are you… are you staying?”

Turpin hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the conflicting emotions within him. He had never been a man who showed kindness easily, yet something about the way you looked at him now, with such vulnerability, made it impossible for him to refuse.

“I’m here,” he said gruffly, his tone rougher than he intended as he gently pushed your hand back down to your side. “Now, rest.”

You nodded weakly, the tension in your body easing as you let out a soft sigh. “Thank you, Richard,” you whispered.

Turpin stood there for a moment longer, his hand hovering above your head as if uncertain whether to touch you again or pull away. Finally, he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, the motion careful and deliberate. He had never been one to show affection, but for some reason, this small gesture felt right.

You kept looking at him, your feverish eyes fixed on his stern face, searching for something that you couldn’t quite name. Turpin, ever the gruff and stoic man, shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. His hazel eyes, usually so sharp and unyielding, flickered with irritation as he glanced away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Close your eyes and sleep,” he grumbled, his tone laced with impatience. “You need rest.”

You didn’t respond immediately, still watching him as if trying to decipher a puzzle. There was a strange vulnerability in your gaze, one that made him feel uneasy, as though you were peeling back layers of his carefully constructed armor with just a look.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you whispered after a moment, your voice soft but determined. The usual hesitance was gone, replaced by a quiet resolve. “Not anymore.”

Turpin’s brow furrowed at your words, and he turned back to you with a frown. “What nonsense is this?” he muttered, his tone harsher than intended. “You’re ill. Sleep is what you need.”

You hesitated, biting your lower lip as you considered your next words. There was something about this moment, something fragile and fleeting, that made you want to reach out to him in a way you had never dared before. Perhaps it was the fever that emboldened you, or perhaps it was the sight of him sitting there, rigid and uncomfortable, yet not leaving your side, that made you feel braver than usual.

“Richard…” you began, your voice trembling slightly as you looked down at your hands, wringing them nervously in your lap. “Could we… could we cuddle? Just for a little while?”

Turpin stiffened at your request, his eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into a glare. “No,” he replied flatly, his voice brooking no argument as he crossed his arms even tighter against his chest. “That’s out of the question.”

You nodded, but your gaze didn’t drop. Instead, you scooted closer to him on the bed, ignoring the way his eyes flashed with irritation as you did so. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you knew you were being bold—recklessly so—but there was a need within you, a desperate longing for comfort that you couldn’t suppress.

Before Turpin could react, you reached out and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tentative hug. He froze instantly, his body going rigid beneath your touch, as though the very idea of such an embrace was utterly foreign to him. And perhaps it was, for you had never done this before, had never even thought to. But the need for closeness, for warmth, was stronger than the fear of his reaction.

For a long, tense moment, Turpin didn’t move. He sat there, stiff as a board, his hazel eyes wide with shock, staring down at the top of your head where it rested against his chest. His mind raced, trying to process what was happening, trying to reconcile this unexpected display of affection with the cold, controlled life he had always led.

“W-What are you doing?” he finally stammered, his baritone voice uncharacteristically shaky.

You didn’t answer immediately, your grip on him tightening just slightly as you buried your face against the coarse fabric of his vest. You felt his heartbeat beneath your cheek, strong and steady, and it brought you a strange sense of comfort, as though in that moment, the world beyond this room didn’t exist.

“I just needed… some comfort,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest. “Just for a little while.”

Turpin blinked, utterly bewildered by your words. Comfort? It was a concept so alien to him, so far removed from the cold, calculated existence he had built for himself, that he didn’t know how to respond. He had never been one for physical affection, had never seen the point of it, and yet here you were, clinging to him like he was some kind of lifeline.

He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you to let go, but the words died on his lips as he felt the slight tremor in your body. It wasn’t just the fever that made you shake; it was something more, something deeper. And for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, that realization softened something inside him.

With a reluctant sigh, Turpin slowly, almost awkwardly, brought his arms down from his chest and placed them around you, his movements stiff and uncertain. He had never done this before, had never held someone like this, and it felt strange—both uncomfortable and oddly reassuring at the same time.

“There,” he muttered gruffly, his voice lacking its usual edge. “But just for a little while.”

You smiled against his chest, the small victory warming you more than any blanket could. His embrace was far from tender, but it was enough. It was more than you had ever expected from him, and in that moment, it was everything.

Turpin, for his part, remained silent, his eyes staring straight ahead as he tried to ignore the strange, fluttering sensation in his chest. He told himself this was just a temporary indulgence, that he was simply allowing you to calm yourself so that you could get the rest you needed. But as the minutes ticked by, and your breathing grew slow and even against him, he found that he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, his voice softening despite himself.

You didn’t answer—your breathing had already evened out, and Turpin realized with a start that you had fallen asleep in his arms. He looked down at you, his expression softening as he took in the peaceful look on your face, the way your body had relaxed completely against him.

“Foolish girl,” he murmured, though there was no malice in his words, only a kind of reluctant affection that he didn’t quite know what to do with.

For a long time, Turpin remained there, holding you in the dim light of the room, his stern demeanor giving way to a strange, unfamiliar warmth. He knew that when morning came, he would return to his usual self—distant, cold, and unyielding. But for tonight, he allowed himself this small moment of softness, this brief indulgence in something he had long denied himself.

Because even the grumpiest of old men, it seemed, could not entirely resist the simple comfort of holding someone close.

[saeglaazzer]

Title: After the Whistle

Pairing: Dom!Sae Itoshi x Bratty!Reader

Setting: Locker Room (Post-Match)

CW: NSFW themes (consensual), locker room setting, dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, dirty talk, tension build-up

Word count: ~1k

The whistle blew, and the roar of the crowd barely registered in Sae’s ears. His gaze wasn’t on the scoreboard — they’d won, of course — but on you.

You were still juggling the spare ball near the bench, all too casual in that snug little jersey he told you not to wear in public. It clung to your body like a second skin, your shorts barely hanging on as you flicked the ball from knee to toe like you didn’t just spend the entire match taunting him with those sly glances and smug little smirks.

You’d been playing with fire all game. And you knew it.

He didn’t say a word as he walked past the media scrum and into the locker room, peeling his sweat-slick jersey off. You followed — of course you did — bouncing the ball once, twice, before letting it roll to a stop at his feet.

“Nice match, captain,” you said, voice dripping with faux innocence. “Bet you were thinking about me the whole time.”

Sae didn’t respond at first. Just turned, eyes sharp as a blade, taking in the way you leaned against the lockers — hip cocked, lip caught between your teeth. Testing him.

“You wore that on purpose,” he said finally, stepping closer. “Didn’t you.”

You shrugged. “What, this old thing?”

His hand was at your throat before you could blink — not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Controlling. You gasped softly, thighs instinctively clenching.

“That mouth of yours,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “is going to get you in trouble.”

“Maybe I want trouble.”

He smirked — the kind that sent a shiver straight through you. “Then get on your knees.”

You opened your mouth to tease, to push, but one raised brow from him had you sinking, palms pressed to his thighs as you stared up. You swore you saw his composure crack just a bit. The sweat on his abs, the heat radiating off his skin — it all made your mouth water.

“You were such a fucking brat today,” he muttered, fingers tangling in your hair. “Flashing those thighs, biting your lip every time you knew I was watching. What were you trying to prove?”

“That I could make you lose focus,” you said, grinning. “Guess I win.”

He chuckled — dark, low, unamused. “No, baby. I’m just getting started.”

And then he dragged you up, spinning you and slamming you gently against the cool locker door. Your cheek pressed to the metal as he pulled your shorts down with infuriating slowness.

“You don’t get to win,” he whispered against your ear. “Not when you beg for my attention like that.”

You whined, arching back against him. “You like it.”

“I tolerate it.”

Lie.

You felt him against you — hot, hard, and fully invested. His hand slid down your spine, palm pressing into your lower back to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“I’m going to make you remember who you belong to,” he said, dragging his fingers over the wet heat between your legs. “Since you seem to forget the second I’m not inside you.”

You moaned, breath fogging the locker door, hands fisting at your sides. “Then shut up and remind me.”

Sae growled — actually growled — and in the next moment, your bratty little smirk was swallowed by a moan that echoed off the steel walls.

He didn’t hold back.

And by the end of it, the only sound louder than your cries was the bang of the locker behind you — and his voice in your ear, breathless, cocky, victorious:

“Game over, princess. I win.”

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Potential TW ::: Difficulty conceiving. & for my vomit-sensitive friends, here's a mildly changed version: PUKE FREE EDIT

A/N ::: I am so tired tonight that this was not super proofed. This was an ask that came via my messages. They wanted a story with the spicy and the sweet parts of Kats & F.reader tryin' for a baby. I hope it has all the elements you wanted and that you like it!

C/W ::: Aged up Kats x f.reader, several mentions of vomiting & other facial fluids being discharged (snot, tears, puke). Oral M->F Quite a bit of P->V. Lovey dovey stuff, sweet moments between 2 people who just want a freakin' baby. Ok? 😭

WC ::: 4,923 (Jesus christ, I'm so sorry. This totally got away from me and I don't even know how.)

"Hey babe, it's me." Katsuki said in his usual growly voice. "I guess you're still at work or somethin'. Anyway, I'll be home tomorrow night. Also, I'been holdin' back. So, be ready for me. I love you, call me if ya want."

Katsuki was out of town on a job. He's been gone for almost a week now, the longest you two have been apart since you got married, almost 2 years ago. You missed him, sure. But when he came home, stomping through the entryway, yelling for you, it was the best feeling to be wrapped up in his arms and smooshed into his chest.

The two of you have been leaving yourselves open to having a baby for about 4 months now. It hasn't been constant trying, but the longer it goes that you're not getting pregnant, the more you feel like you're needing to take this more seriously. You started reading up on the most productive positions to get the result you're looking for, studying what you can do before and after you do the deed. How to check your basal temperature. When doctor intervention becomes more than a discussion and an absolute necessity.

The phone beeps, alerting you to your missed call and voicemail. "What ... oh, damn it." You listen to the message Katsuki left you and couldn't help the soft pink blush that spread over your face and chest. No man had ever made you feel the way he has. You had been pretty reserved until he helped you tap into your inner slutty girl. It sounds bad, but you've not looked back once since he brought you out of your little sexual shell. And why should you? Every time you're with him you swear it's the best sex you've ever had. Point being, you got really lucky to have him love you and be able to love him.

Pushing #1 on speed dial, you hear the other line ringing and start praying to whatever gods would listen to you that he'd answer his phone.

"Hey brat. Y'ignorin' me now or some shit like that? The fuck ya think ya are?" You could hear him choke out a laugh. The background noise was almost louder than he was.

"You know it, you caught me. Trying to ignore you. What're you gonna do about it?" You giggled when you heard his breath hitch in his throat. Your voice got low and breathy, "You gonna punish me, hm? Good luck catching me, Kats."

The phone crackled a few times before you heard him, "Hey! Y'there? Babe!? Goddamn it, this shit ass fuc---" and then you heard nothing.

"K-Kats? Hello? Are you ... are you there? Oh." You tossed the phone on the couch and pouted. "Things were just about to get good, too." You whined to the cat. But you knew they didn't care. They were Kats' anyway. They merely tolerated you until they were hungry and then they were your biggest fan.

A chime rang out into the quiet room and you pounced on it. A text from Katsuki, "Sorry, shit reception here. I'll try to call you from the hotel later. XXX"

It was about 6pm. Too early for bed, too late to go anywhere. So you curled up on the couch and watched your wedding video. You laughed and cried about how stupid you felt for missing him so much. He's only been gone a week and he'll be home tomorrow. Less than 24 hours and you would be together again.

You woke up to the sun forcing its way through the edges of the window coverings. "He's coming home today! He ... is finally coming home today!" A contented sigh heaved its way from your chest as you stood and stretched the uncomfortable position you slept in from your body. And then immediately a wave of nausea washed over you. "The f-," you covered your mouth and ran to the bathroom. Lifting the toilet lid, you took pause and started praying that you wouldn't puke. "Mmm ..." Your eyes roamed to the bathroom cupboard. The nausea faded and soon your body followed your eyes' lead and you started to crawl to open the door and pull out a pregnancy test.

You peed on the plastic receptacle and set the timer you'd bought specially for the bathroom, only to hurry up and wait for the next 3 minutes.

"Oh." You tried so hard not to let yourself get wrapped up in the hope that all of your fun and hard work had finally paid off. But it still hurt. It always hurt. It was a relief though, that Katsuki wasn't here to have to go through this again. He always somehow got more excited than you at the prospect of you becoming parents. 'There's plenty uh’time, ma,' he always says to you whenever the result is another negative.

It would be several hours before he'd be home, so you put yourself together and set out to grocery shop. You decided to stop by your favorite little boutique and look around at the lingerie. Maybe that would help cheer you up and raise moral to romp around with your husband. You laughed at the stupid thought. It was always fun to be with Katsuki.

You managed to knock all of your tasks out in a couple of hours and drove home to get stuff put away. You still wanted to shower, put on the new lingerie you bought and figure out what to do for dinner. Take-out was calling your name tonight.

In the shower, you started to think about how much you loved Katsuki. And a familiar, warm, tingly feeling started to bloom in the pit of your stomach. Unconsciously, you began rubbing your thighs together trying to alleviate the pressure - however pleasant it might be - building there. It was a dangerous game you were playing here. If you rubbed them too much, you know you'd get beyond frustrated and have to take care of this on your own. And there was nothing you wanted more than for him to be the one to alleviate this pent up tension in your body. Seeing as he was the one causing it, it only seemed fair.

Hurrying to finish washing up, you managed to get out of there with only a little bit of lingering agitation. Perhaps agitation was too strong a word. But you missed him so much there was no other word you could think of to replace it.

All wrapped up in a towel, you went to your room and looked over the clothes you had laid out for tonight. The dress you chose was newer, you picked it up a month or so ago, but haven't had the chance to wear it. It’s so new that he hasn't even seen it on you. The lingerie was a strappy black 1 piece and it looked so confusing to you. But you wanted to look nice for him. You knew he would love it for the whole 30 seconds it was on you before he tore it off. Yet you couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous about his homecoming.

It all felt so new to you for some strange reason.

His Jeep pulled into the driveway and your heart all but stopped beating. Your face got hot and you felt like you were going to puke again. "Jesus, calm yourself, y/n. You're married for Christ's sake. Have been for over 2 years. He is your husband. He already loves you." But you didn't believe a word you said to yourself.

You ran to the bedroom to take one last quick glance at your appearance. Smoothing down the dress at your stomach, you noticed it didn't sit quite like it did when you first bought it. You just chalked it up to a little bit of stress eating with Katsuki being gone, and you trying to stay cool about (not) getting pregnant. It just caught up to you. No matter. He's home.

The front door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps. Music to your ears. "Babe? 'M home. Get yer ass ov-", You peeked your head out of the bedroom and gave him a sassy smile. "There you are, fuck, missed you so much. Don't move." He tossed his keys onto the kitchen table and walked toward you like he was hunting you. Like if he moved to quickly you'd get startled and run away from him. Little did he know that it would take a lot more than him running at you to make you even flinch.

"I missed you too, Kats. So much." You whispered as he got closer. He reached out for you and pulled you flush against him, his mouth immediately finding yours. His lips were so soft and warm and he smelled so good. You couldn't resist the urge to kiss him deeper, and you let your tongue brush his bottom lip. He growled and held you tighter.

"Fuck, y’taste so good. Yer gonna kill me. I can't wait for you any longer. All of you. Every part of you." He kissed your cheek and then your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and tugging on it with his teeth. You moaned and ground your hips into his. The sensation of his hardness rubbing against you made you ache with need.

"Oh God. Please. I need you so much." Every brush of his fingers against your body left a trail of raised, peach fuzz hairs in their wake. You were panting now, trying to catch your breath from his lips on your skin. He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes shining with love and lust. "I love you so much, babe."

"I love you too, Katsuki." Your voice was breathy and quiet, almost like you were afraid to say it.

He leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more heat and intensity. His hands found their way to your ass and he squeezed, eliciting a whimper from your lips. "Let's go to bed." He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.

You walked in and he pushed you onto the bed. You squealed and giggled as you bounced. He stood over you and started to unbutton his shirt. His abs and pecs were on display for you. You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his muscles moving as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. He moved to unbuckle his belt and you got a little nervous. He was so hot and you felt like you couldn't keep up with him. But he always managed to make you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth.

As he took his pants off, you got up and stood in front of him so he could unzip the dress. "You make this dress look so fuckin' beautiful, babe. Goddamn. So sexy. But y'know, 's much as I love this, 'm dying to see what's underne- Hoh fuck. Th- you- fuck that's hot. This new?" He asked as he covered his mouth with his right hand and shook his head slowly.

"You like it?" You blushed hard.

"Do I fuckin' like it. C'mere. Fuckin' c'mere and I'll show you just how much I like it." He pulled you close and kissed your lips, your neck, your chest. You could feel him hard and throbbing against your lower stomach. It was driving you wild.

He turned you around and began to kiss your shoulders. He moved the straps of the lingerie down and bit your skin gently. "Ah! Katsuki, please. Please touch me. I need you."

"Patience. G’na take my time with you. Got about 6 days to make up for, darlin'. Lemme have this. Lemme have you."

He turned you back around and kissed you deeply. He held you close and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I am so glad you're home, Kats." You whispered while you pulled him to the bed.

You laid there and let him take over, let him do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to drive you crazy. He kissed every inch of your body, making sure to pay extra attention to your most sensitive parts.

"You work out this week or somethin'?" He asked between kissing your hot skin. He moved down to your belly. "Fuck, you're just so ..." he growled against your skin as he breathed you in. "Your tits look fantastic. You're so ... gah ... I dunno. You're just so soft." He ran his hands over your curves and squeezed your hips.

You pulled his hair and guided him to your core. "Katsuki, need ... need your mouth." He obliged and licked a stripe up your slit, his tongue pressing firmly against your clit and you jumped back. "Hohmygod, Kats! Fuck!!"

"S'sensitive for me," he dove back in and started to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around it and then flattening it and moving it side to side, "Fumkin' lub et." You felt like you were going to burst. The feeling was overwhelming and you felt yourself get close to the edge faster than you could ever remember.

"Katsu- kugh, ohmygod, I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..." You grabbed his head and pushed him further into you. He moaned and his hands dug into your thighs as he kept working your swollen cunt.

"Cum for me, baby. Show me how fuckin’ hard y’can cum for me. Lemme see that pretty pussy cum for me." He moved back down and started sucking and licking your clit again, his fingers sliding inside you and hitting that spot you love so much.

Your whole body tensed up and you felt yourself explode all over his fingers and tongue. "Katsuki!!!" You screamed and bucked your hips against his face, chasing your orgasm. You could feel him smiling against your skin as you rode out your pleasure against his face and hands. You didn't know what you were rubbing yourself against but there was no part of you that could stop it from happening.

"G'girl. Fuck, you taste s'good, babe. Kinda diff’rent. More tart. Lemony." He kissed your thigh and then crawled up to kiss you. "Gonna fuck a baby into you now." He smiled down at you, much more sweetly than his intentions actually were and held your legs open so he could slide himself inside you.

"Mmmm, yes ... please, want you … in me." You whined as he started to push himself in. He was big, you were used to it. But tonight you needed a minute or two to adjust to his size. It felt like you were clenching down on him, almost purposely. Making it more difficult for him to push himself entirely inside of you. 

"Jesus fuck, you sure you weren't doing some pussy push-ups r'somethin'? You're so tight, babe. Feels so fuckin' good. But … Jesus."

You couldn't control your laughter at him calling kegel exercises 'pussy push-ups'. It was so stupid, but it made you feel warm and loved that he cared enough to notice things like that. "I've been practicing, yeah." You smirked and he leaned in and kissed you again.

"Good. So fuckin' good. Now, g'na fuck you 'til you can't stand it. I'm gonna cum in that hot pussy and make you the sexiest ma on the face of the planet." He growled against your lips as he started to move inside you.

You lost track of time and your body just reacted to him. He was rough and tender. Everything you needed and more. The two of you singing this song of moans in unison sounded better than any of your favorite songs ever had. His grunts and growls filled the room, as he fucked you harder and harder, so too, did your moaning and muttering of how good he felt get louder.

"Kats ... gonna cum again. Pleasepleaseplease ... you gotta cum first! It w- oh god - it works better if you cum first ... I think! Hurry up!" You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into you. You could feel your walls tightening and pulsating around his cock and it was the most exquisite feeling.

"Bah, fuck, I'm close babe. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck, gonna fill you up with my cum." He grabbed your legs and pushed them back so your knees were against your chest and your ankles were at his ears. He held onto the back of your legs and pounded into you with all the strength he had left in him.

"Yesyesyes! Katsuki! Cum in me!" You were on the edge of your orgasm and you couldn't hold it at bay any longer. You felt the hot wetness of his seed filling you up and you let yourself go, your pussy clenched around his cock.

He stayed inside you for a minute or two, panting and kissing your forehead. Droplets of sweat fell from his face to yours. It was disgustingly intimate. You had never felt closer to him. Physically or emotionally.

"I love you." He whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you." You whispered back.

And with that, he rolled off of you and snuggled up against your back, his hand resting on your stomach. The two of you fell asleep a short time later. Still happily tangled up in one another.

The next morning you awoke to Katsuki gently rolling his cock against your ass. You turned your head as best you could to see him, but when you managed to, you saw that he was still fast asleep. It didn't diminish the arousal that began to creep its way through your body, though.

You rolled over and kissed his face, whispering sweet nothings to him as you tried to wake him. "Kaaats, you wanna go again?" Running your hand down his chest and stomach, stopping about halfway down his happy trail, he opened his eyes slowly and gave you a half smile that looked so sexy on him.

"Mornin' babe. Wha' was I doin'?" He asked, looking down at his erection. "Ah. Was havin' a really ... really good dream 'bout you. Wan' me to show ya what we were doin'?" He flopped onto his back and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his waist. "Y'so fuckin' wet already. Damn woman. You could put out a fire with that pussy. Hm-hm. Let's start one first though, yeah?" His hands dug into the plush of your hips and pushed/pulled you over him.

Your cunt wrapped so perfectly around him made him let out the most guttural of moans that caused you to clench around nothing. But he felt it and moaned again. It was becoming a vicious little cycle: He'd moan, your body would react, so on and so forth.

He pulled you up, grabbing underneath your ass and lifted you so you were hovering just over his cock. You rolled your head forward to look at him as you slid down, putting just the head inside of you.

"Don't be a fuckin' tease." He growled at you and tried to pull you down, his cock twitching at the denial of the possibility of complete envelopment. "Fucking hell, you're so bratty. Gonna make you pay for this," he laughed.

"Sorry, can't hear you over how good just the head of your cock feels while I'm bouncin' on it." You smirked at him as you wiggled your hips side to side.

He reached up and grabbed your neck, pulling you down to him as he thrust up into you. "I said, don't be a fucking tease," he hissed out through a clenched jaw.

You felt your eyes roll back and your body tense up as he filled you completely. It was almost too much to handle. "Katsu ... ki ... ah, fu-ughh, fuck! Don't stop!" You couldn't hold on anymore. You ground your hips against him as you came, your pussy fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly he couldn't help but follow you over the edge.

All of a sudden, you stopped riding out the last waves of your orgasm. Sitting on top of him still, you put your hand over your mouth and you looked down at him with pure panic in your eyes. "Hmph ..." you shook your head when he asked if you were ok. "Hmphhuh," you gagged again. He helped you off of him and all but dragged your post-o, jellied, naked body to the bathroom and lifted the lid on the toilet for you.

"Y'fuckin' sick'er somethin', babe? Got the flu? What the hell's goin' on?" His brows furrowed and he scowled at you. You knew it was out of concern, not frustration.

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself after something so icky. Hating yourself for doing this right now. Right after such an intimate moment. While he was standing there, staring at you. Puking your guts out. Naked. "Don' knoooohhhh fuck, leave, Kats. Get out! Ple-!"

He squatted down next to you and held your hair back with his right hand and rubbed your back with his left. "'M not fuckin' leavin' you. Not for pukin', not for fuckin' nothin'. Y'fuckin' hear me? Better or worse. Sickness and health and all that other shit. Just shut up and finish. 'L be right here for ya."

The amount of fluid that left your face was disgusting. You'd never had such floodgates open like this before. Puking, crying, snot running from your nose. You were an actual mess. But he stood by you through all of it.

"Hey, babe ... d'ya ... ah shit. D'ya think yer pregnant?" Katsuki asked as you stood from the floor, moving slowly toward the sink to wash your face off. The sparkle in his eyes was undeniable. And it killed you that you had to tell him you weren't.

You leaned over the sink, your face in your hands, and started crying. "I ... oh, Kats. I'm ... I'm not. I took a test a couple of days ago. I didn't w-", his hands on your back silenced you. They were, to date, the most important hands in the world to you. They were strong. They were soft and warm and they are all encompassing. If there were any kind of god, you would live out the rest of your days under his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me? I don't want you carryin’ this all by yourself, y/n. What we don't succeed in doing together, we share the hardships and overcome that ... together. I'm so sorry, babe. I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I shouldn'ta left ya for so long." He spoke to you so quietly. Like his words would be the thing that finally throws you over the edge. The thing that finally breaks you.

"Maybe I ate something." You ran your forearm across your dry lips and hobbled back to the bed to bury yourself in the blankets. "I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I won't do that again, promise." He walked over to you and sat down on the edge and brushed the hair from your face.

"G'na get you some 7-up 'n a cold washcloth. Be right back, babe." You watched him walk out of the bedroom and turn down the hallway. His butt jiggling ever so slightly. It made you smile. And it made you feel something else.

"The hell ...?" You sat up in bed and realized that you were horny. Again. Katsuki came back a minute later with what he promised you. Something to drink and a cold, wet cloth for you to put on your face. Smiling as he handed you this stuff, you pulled him in close to you and kissed him on the cheek all the way down to his neck.

"Oh, babe. Yer jus' so ... hah. No matter what. Even with your hair matted to your face and your eyes puffy and red. I love you." He leaned over and kissed your forehead.

"Don't say it." You smiled at him. It was almost like you knew what he was going to say. And you couldn't bear to hear it. Not right now. You had no idea where you two stood in that department. You weren't ready to admit that to each other. Not yet. Not right now.

He smiled back and laid down next to you, spooning you from behind. He ran his hand along your waist and stomach, over and over. It was relaxing. And it was a little bit arousing, but you managed to keep yourself at bay. You had just thrown up, after all.

"I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I can't give us the baby we want. I'm sorry I'm so fucking broken." You choked on your words as tears started to well in your eyes. "I'm so sorry."

He shifted behind you and held you tighter. "Babe, you're not broken. 'Sides, who says it ain't me? Maybe we should make a doctors appointment, yeah? Get my count tested and all that shit. Whatcha say?"

You sniffed and wiped your face with the washcloth. It felt good against your hot face. "You - Kats, you'd do that? You'd have your sperm count checked?" Rolling over to face him, you took his face in your hands and held it there while the two of you just stared at each other.

"Fuckin' never said I wouldn't! Course I will. 'F we ever wanna get to the bottom of this, we hafta explore every possibility, right?" He ran a rough finger along your cheek to collect the freshly fallen tears and wipe them on the sheets. You made an ick face at him and he told you to pipe down, they need to be changed anyway after the night you two just had on them.

***

A couple of weeks past and he had his appointment with the fertility specialist where they ran a count on Kats. They called and said his sperm was 'abnormally high and active'. Their exact words were, "We have never seen anything like it in our careers." He didn't shut up about it for 3 days.

This left you in a fog. Surely, you were the reason you two couldn't conceive. It made you feel like absolute shit. No matter what he said to you, it didn't lift the guilt you were trying to carry all on your own. You thought he shouldn't have to hurt when he wasn't the problem. This complex was exhausting you and you could feel yourself slipping deeper into sadness.

You went to the clinic at the end of the day that Friday, the last appointment they had for the week. They drew your blood and told you they would be in touch on Monday or Tuesday about the next step after they had a chance to evaluate the sample for any obvious

It was Saturday morning and you were both sitting on the back porch eating breakfast when your phone rang. "It's the clinic, Kats. You answer. I don't want to talk to them. They probably found a plastic bag where my uterus is supposed to be." You pushed your phone across the little glass tabletop and got up, carrying the dishes into the kitchen to wash them off.

"Yeah babe, on it. Hello? N-no. You're trying to reach Bakugou? Well, shit. Yeah. That's me, I mean ... I'm her husband, Katsuki. Yes! The man with incredible sperm!" He laughed, you cringed. "Wait, what? No, that's not ... I mean ...," his voice got quiet and he got up, walking across the yard to mess with a fence piece.

You watched him out there fiddle with the broken wooden slat and felt your heart breaking into even smaller pieces. "Fuck." You whispered, looking down at the tiny bubbles popping on the soaking dishes. A tear dripped from your chin and landed on your chest, darkening a spot on your gray Dynamight shirt.

Katsuki came walking into the kitchen and came over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders, he turned you to face him. "Hey, ma?" Getting down on his knees, he put his hands on your waist and smooshed his face into your tummy. "Ma?"

"Are you having a fucking stroke or something? What are you doing, dumbass?" You wiped your chin and huffed out a short, insincere laugh. "Kats, what did - what'd they say. Is it me? Am I ..."

"Yes, babe. It's you. It's you … and the little grenade you're carrying. You're ... we're ... having a baby, y/n. You're fuckin' pregnant." He beamed up at you, tears in his wide eyes. 

"It's you, babe. You and me. And … and … and a little us in you. We did it, y/n. We're gonna have a family!"

You covered your mouth with your hands and cried. Not just a few tears, but a full-on ugly cry. You were going to be a mom. Katsuki was going to be a dad. And this was just the beginning of your lives as a family.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe in us. I'm sorry I let myself think for a second that it wouldn't be us. Us. Just us. I'm so happy it's us." You bent over and kissed his forehead. He stood and wrapped you in his arms and you both just stood there letting this new beautiful reality sink in.

The future was yours and yours alone … well, and Kats’ and the babies, of course. 

Taglist ::: @dreamcastgirl99 @viburnt @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82

[a-whispering-echo]

PDA

hi! bad sansuary prompt for 'PDA'! i wrote a quick thingie for this one because character interactions are hard to draw.

this is written for the band au, but i dont THINK i mentioned anything too 'human' about them? all you really need to know i guess is theyre human, in a band, and Killer, Horror, Dust, Cross and Nightmare are a poly <3

Dust sat hunched over the apartment’s battered coffee table, scribbling in the margins of an old, dog-eared notebook. A mug of lukewarm tea sat beside him on the coffee table, untouched since Cross made it an hour ago. The faint hum of music filtered in from another room - Nightmare’s low-fi playlist, he thought, though it was hard to tell from here - and the scent of whatever Horror was cooking wafted lazily through the air. Dust’s pen stuttered against the paper as his wrist cramped. Fibro was a bitch today.

The sanctuary of his quiet moment was shattered by the telltale creak of Killer’s heeled boots on the hardwood floor.

“Oh, Dusty~!” Killer’s sing-song voice echoed through the room, and Dust groaned inwardly. The energy Killer exuded was like a hyperactive puppy on sugar, and Dust was just not in the mood. He hadn’t slept properly in… well, longer than he cared to admit.

“What.” Dust didn’t look up, didn’t stop fiddling with his pen.

“What, he says,” Killer huffed, plopping down on the couch beside him with exaggerated flair. “What! Like I’m not the literal love of your life walking into the room.”

“Bold of you to assume that title,” Dust muttered, though the faintest smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.

Killer leaned in, propping his chin on Dust’s shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a bold guy. Now, c’mere.”

Dust froze as Killer wrapped his arms around him, hands resting firmly on his stomach. “Get off,” he grumbled, attempting to wriggle free.

“Nope. Not until you admit you love me.”

“Killer.”

“Dust.” Killer nuzzled into his neck, and Dust could feel the grin against his skin. “You’re so tense, habibi. You need to relax. Let me help.”

“I relax just fine without you.” Dust’s voice was tight, but he didn’t pull away again. It wasn’t that he hated Killer’s affection; he just didn’t know what to do with it. Especially not when Killer turned it up to 11 in front of everyone.

“Yeah, sure,” Killer teased. “Your shoulders feel like concrete, but go off, babe.”

Dust finally turned his head, fixing Killer with a glare. “Can’t you go smother Cross or something? He’s into that kind of crap.”

“Nah,” Killer said, nonchalant as ever. “He’s out grocery shopping with Nightmare. Horror’s cooking. That leaves you, my grumpy little void of a man.”

“I hate you,” Dust deadpanned, though the blush creeping up his freckled cheeks betrayed him.

“You loooove me,” Killer singsonged, placing a dramatic kiss on Dust’s cheek. “Admit it. Just three little words, and I’ll let you go.”

Dust sighed heavily, the sound laden with equal parts exasperation and fondness. “Fine. I tolerate you. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Killer’s grin widened, and he kissed Dust’s cheek again, lingering this time. “Now, how about a real kiss, huh?”

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“I said no.”

“Okay, but hear me out- ”

Before Killer could finish, Dust grabbed a pillow from the couch and smacked him square in the face with it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable,” Killer shot back, undeterred, even as he rubbed at his nose. “Seriously, Dust, just let me love you. Is that so hard?”

“Yes,” Dust said flatly. But there was a softness in his tone, a quiet resignation that Killer knew meant he wasn’t as annoyed as he pretended to be.

“Fine. Be grumpy. But I’m not going anywhere.” Killer leaned back, resting his feet on the coffee table like he owned the place. Well, he did, Dust supposed.“So get used to it, babe.”

Dust groaned, slumping further into the battered couch, his notebook now abandoned on the coffee table. He felt Killer’s eyes on him, full of playful mischief, and he knew it was far from over.

Sure enough, Killer shifted closer, his hands already reaching for Dust’s waist. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah- ” Killer peppered exaggerated, smacking kisses along the side of Dust’s neck, his voice an over-the-top symphony of affection.

“UGH, get OFF, you fuckin’- you’re slobbering all on my neck!” Dust twisted, trying to squirm out of Killer’s iron grip.

“Never!” Killer laughed, clearly revelling in Dust’s irritation. “Your neck deserves to be cherished, and I am just the man to do it!”

“Cherish yourself into traffic,” Dust snapped, though the redness of his ears gave him away.

Killer gasped theatrically, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Rude! And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“A moment of you annoying the hell out of me, maybe.” Dust wiped at his neck, grimacing. “I’m gonna need to shower now.”

“Oh, don’t act like you hate it.” Killer leaned back with a smug grin, draping himself across the couch like a cat who had successfully knocked something off the counter. “You’re just mad because you do like it and you don’t wanna admit it.”

Dust threw him another glare, but Killer only winked.

“Fine,” Dust muttered after a beat, leaning forward to grab his notebook again. “You win. Now shut up.”

“Victory is mine!” Killer declared, throwing his arms up triumphantly before pulling Dust back into another side hug, this one blessedly less slobbery. Dust grumbled but didn’t fight it this time, letting Killer rest his head against his shoulder.

They sat like that for a while, Killer humming some off-key melody under his breath and Dust trying (and failing) to refocus on his writing. The warmth of Killer’s presence was annoying, sure, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“Love you, Dusty,” Killer said softly after a while, his voice unusually gentle.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dust muttered, tapping his pen against the notebook. But this time, there was no bite in his tone. Just the quiet comfort of someone who knew they were loved, even if they’d never admit it out loud.

“…Love you too.”

[changingplumbob]

CW: Low level sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Glenn: I'm sorry I'm not a werewolf that can get you pregnant

Silver: Yeah well it's good you're not because I love you just the way you are. Even if you distract me when I'm trying to plan

Glenn: Oh you mean like this

Glenn reached over and knocked the papers off the bed. While Silver was shocked he grabbed the pen and threw it in one of his planters for good measure.

Silver: Hey! I was using that

Glenn: Come use me instead

Glenn grabbed Silver's wrists and rolled on to his back, pulling the larger man on top of him. He knew if Silver didn't want to partake in any woohoo shenanigans he wouldn't have been able to move him so he took it as a good sign.

Silver: Why are you being so annoying today

Glenn: Because... I want you

Silver: You should have let me finish my list first

Glenn: Oh please we both know for you to be happy that pros and cons list is going to take days

Silver: And If it does? You should learn to wait

Glenn: And then you'll want to have visits to the top choices before you decide and I'll be left here in agony because you won't-

Silver bent down and kissed him. For a while they stayed just like that, Silver pinning Glenn down and kissing him while he let his hand trace the spellcasters abs.

Silver sat back up and Glenn pouted.

Silver: What am I going to do with you Babycakes? You just won't let me work

Glenn: I have some ideas of what you could do. Read my mind

Silver raised an eyebrow and stared down at Glenn. Yes he could guess what he was thinking about but where was the fun in getting straight to it? If he placated Glenn fully he'd likely be able to work on the list afterwards and he really wanted to figure out the top few moving choices.

Silver: I can't read your mind, I'm not an alien

Glenn: Well I was thinking... I know I can't get you pregnant but what if we pretended?

Silver: Pretended huh?

Glenn: Mmhmm

Silver leaned down, bracing himself with his left arm beside Glenn and letting his right hand trace the patterns of one of Glenn's many flower shirts.

Silver: I don't know, do you really deserve to get me pregnant after your brat act today

Glenn: You could teach me a lesson? I know we've not done it much but you're great when you get in power bottom mode. Wait, do you know what that is?

Silver: *chuckles* If you want me to ride you just say it. But you should know *kisses* I will have you apologising for your misbehaviour before I'm finished

Glenn: Oh, you're talking the talk there Beefcake but I'm not going to cave and apologise

If that wasn't famous last words... Silver absolutely got Glenn's apology. When they were finished and Glenn went to shower Silver was able to collect the papers off the floor and get back to his list. They'd been together long enough that Silver estimated Glenn would need at least an hour in there, perfect for him to focus out here.

The list did take several days. It was incredibly long but a lot of the places had more cons than pros so they were discarded as options. In the end they narrowed their choices down to either somewhere in Glimmerbrook or the Windslar neighbourhood of Windenburg.

Glenn: You sure you don't want to live in Henford

Silver: I mean being close to Grayson and his kids could be nice but I do want somewhere we can just escape the rest of the world

Glenn: But our friends can come visit right

Silver: Yeah. I'm surprised they tolerate me though

Glenn: What's not to love about you? Oh come on froggies! I nearly had that one

Silver: I guess that one doesn't want to make tadpoles for your collection

Glenn: Clearly. What were we talking about? Oh yeah well Henri likes that you know old stuff, and that you're always feeding me because he knows I'm a glutton. Miranda likes that you're trying to learn how to use technology and Ophelia...

Silver: Is Ophelia. She doesn't seem to dislike anyone despite the hell her life was. I admire that about her

Glenn: And what about me

Silver: *smirking* Are you fishing for compliments Babycakes

Glenn: Only from you

Silver: Well you're the best catch I've ever made

Glenn: Awww. I love you to Beefcake

Previous ... Next

[pets001]

Scene: The kitchen. The cat, Mr. Whiskers, is sitting on the counter, staring intently at his owner, Sarah, who is making breakfast.] ___________ Sarah: [stirring eggs in a pan] Oh, look at you, Mr. Whiskers. So, are you gonna just sit there and watch me cook, or are you gonna help? Mr. Whiskers: [giving her a flat stare] Help? Please. I’m here to observe your tragic attempts at feeding me. And frankly, it's an embarrassment. Sarah: [laughs] What are you talking about? I’m a great cook! I make you fresh food all the time! Mr. Whiskers: [slow blink] Yeah, fresh food that’s… [pauses]... mostly from cans. You know, that’s a very low bar. Sarah: [rolling her eyes] Oh, come on! You love your canned food! Mr. Whiskers: [sniffs the air dramatically] Canned food is the fast food of the feline world. Where’s the gourmet? Where’s the culinary art? I want a sushi-grade tuna. A salmon filet. A delicately seasoned quail... Maybe a sprinkle of catnip for flair. Sarah: [laughs] Oh, sure. Let me just go catch a quail in the backyard for you. You know, like I do every morning. Mr. Whiskers: [mock gasp] You don’t catch them? Ugh, pathetic. Well, while you’re at it, don’t forget to season it with patience and a dash of dignity... Sarah: [teasing] Dignity? You’re a cat who licks his butt in front of guests. That’s dignity? Mr. Whiskers: [pauses, then flicks tail] I prefer to think of it as... self-care. Sarah: [laughing hard] You’re unbelievable. Mr. Whiskers: [glaring] And you’re about to serve me eggs. Eggs, Sarah. The most basic food known to mankind. Have you no respect for my palate? Sarah: [smirking] You’re lucky I don’t just give you dry kibble. Mr. Whiskers: [shudders dramatically] Kibble?! The horror... [puts paw to forehead as if fainting] I could never. Sarah: [scooping eggs onto a plate] Well, you’d better eat them, because it’s either this or the vet bills again. Your stomach's been making sounds I don’t even want to describe. Mr. Whiskers: [sniffs plate skeptically] Sounds? If by sounds you mean “the call of my ancestors,” then yes. That’s exactly what you’re hearing. Sarah: [laughing] Sure, that’s totally what it is. I’m sure the "call of your ancestors" wants eggs. Mr. Whiskers: [stares down at eggs] I suppose I’ll eat these... today. But mark my words, Sarah: tomorrow, I’m demanding caviar. Sarah: [pretending to be shocked] Oh, absolutely! I’ll get right on that. [winks] Maybe I can convince the grocery store to carry a little "cat caviar." Mr. Whiskers: [eyes narrow] You better. [licks paw] Because, remember: I can always find a new owner. You’re lucky I like you. Sarah: [laughing as she walks away] Well, enjoy your eggs, Mr. Whiskers. I guess you do have standards... even if they are wildly unrealistic. Mr. Whiskers: [muttering to himself as he starts eating] I’m tolerating this. For now. __________ Fresh Meow Deals

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 18

Hey guys! I got the impression that that cliffhanger really threw people and only one person guessed right.

Thank you for all those that wished me a belated birthday, I had a great weekend.

Today we have resolution to the cliffhanger, some low stakes drama, and the only love triangle I can tolerate ;).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

***

Steve felt someone shove him into the car door. He was whirled around and his back was slammed back into the door. He was face to face with his assailant. He was objectively handsome, Steve supposed. He had long, straight blond hair that went down to the middle of his back, piercing hazel eyes, and piercings in his eyebrow, nose, both ears and pair of snakebites in his lower lips.

On his neck, Steve could make out a tattoo of some kind of bird. He gulped. The man radiated malice and spite.

“I don’t care who the fuck you think you are,” the man snarled. “But you stay away from Eddie Munson.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Fuck off.” He pushed the man back far enough that he had room to swing if he needed it. “I’m betting you’re the asshole that made him feel unsafe. Well, you messed with the wrong person, dude.”

The man, Blondie as Steve was starting to call him in his head, grabbed Steve’s shirt and pulled him so that their faces were inches from each other.

“Leave him alone,” Blondie sneered. “Or you’ll find out how unsafe I can be.”

Suddenly Blondie was yanked back and thrown to the side. Hopper stood over him, snarling.

“Fuck off before my apprentice calls the cops,” Hop said, jutting his thumb at Eden who had her phone out, likely recording the whole thing.

Blondie looked over at Steve, who stood there with his arms crossed and then back at Hopper. Both men glared down at him. Blondie got to his feet and dusted himself off.

“This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, asshole,” he sneered at Steve. “I meant what I said. You touch Eddie Munson and I’ll make you pay.”

“And I told you, you are messing with the wrong man,” Steve snapped back. “You even so much as look his direction and you’ll wish you were never born.”

The man scoffed and walked away rolling his eyes.

Hopper turned to Steve, gripping his shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve let out a long shuddering sigh. “Yeah.”

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” he barked.

“One of the people I tattoo had–has a crazy ex-boyfriend,” Steve explained.

Hopper rolled his eyes. “Fuck. I’ve still got friends in the local police, I see if I can’t convince one or two of them to drive by your shop once and while and make sure everything is okay.”

Steve breathed out a heavy sigh. That wouldn’t do anything about the stalking but at least he wouldn’t be able to do something to the shop.

He nodded.

“Take care of yourself, you hear me?” Hopper said gruffly.

“I will, I promise.”

*

Robin and Steve arrived early the next morning to see the candidates for the receptionist position. They had three interviews lined up and hoped that someone could be found fast.

Robin had started main lining six shots of espresso to get through the day. Something the shop people had taken to calling ‘the fallen angel���.

The first one up was a kid right out of high school. Steve would have guessed that he was Erica’s age or there about. He was nervous and kept chewing on his nails the whole time.

Once he was gone, Steve and Robin looked at each other and said with a heavy sigh, “NO.”

The next one was Troy Walsh. Robin chatted with him happily, but Steve remained silent.

After he left Robin turned to him and smacked his arm. “What the hell, Dingus! He was good!”

Steve folded his arms and ducked his head, scuffing at the floor with the edge of the sole of his sneaker. “If the biggest middle school bully of one of your friends came here and applied for a job, would you hire them?”

Robin opened her mouth to answer but stopped before so much as a squawk passed her lips. She closed it and pursed her lips together.

“I guess it would depend on how often you see said friend,” she said quietly, “and whether or not they come to shop.”

“Will.”

Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “Tell me you’re kidding!”

Steve shook his head. “Went as far as to push him while they were playing at the quarry. Will almost fell, if Mike hadn’t caught him, there’s no telling what would happened.”

“There’s bullying and then there’s attempted murder!” Robin screeched. “Jesus Christ!” She looked at the door Troy had just exited in shock and horror.

Steve gave her leg a squeeze. “We still have one more to interview. Maybe they’ll be better then the last two options.”

Robin sighed, but nodded.

“Steve?” the clear, bright voice asked from the doorway. “Oh my god, Robin?”

Both of their heads snapped up in shock. Standing in the doorway was Robin’s high school crush and fellow marching band-ite, Vickie Powell. Her bright green eyes twinkled as a rosy blush dusted her freckled cheeks. In short, she was as gorgeous as Robin remembered.

Steve looked at the application in his hand and then back up at her. “Victoria Prince?”

She shrugged. “Got married, found out he was cheating on me with every available woman on his dorm floor, divorced him, liked the name so I kept it. Also because his parents love me, so...” She winked.

Steve and Robin laughed.

“Come on in!” Steve said encouragingly. “Sit down, tell me about where you’re at now and why you want the job.”

They started talking and they slipped into an easy banter. Before they knew it there was the tinkling of the front door and they could hear voices.

Robin and Steve shared a glance. Steve got to his feet.

“When can you start?” he asked, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

She made a happy, surprised kind of scoff. “Wait, seriously?”

Robin nodded gleefully.

“Today work for you?”

Steve grinned. “Hell yeah it does. We all have nicknames that match the theme, pick one you think you won’t mind being yelled at in. Robin will teach you all the ins and outs of the shop and in two weeks, you’ll be put as main morning receptionist and then we’ll go from there.”

Vickie grinned. “That’s great! I can’t wait to start.”

Robin and Vickie went out to the foyer and he could hear Vickie being introduced to the rest of the Royals.

Yeah, she was going to be a good fit.

*

Steve was happy. That should have been his first warning sign. Because other then the strange run in with Eddie’s ex, everything had been going well. His shop was busy, his training of Chrissy and Argyle was moving along smoothly, Vickie was fitting in perfectly, Robin was having a crisis about having to work with two pretty girls, but Steve thought it was cute, Erica had built the henna thing up so that it was very lucrative, so much so that she was thinking about not going back to school in the fall.

And that was including everything that was happening with Eddie. The tattoo was coming along amazingly. The sword was done and Steve was starting work on the right wing. Saturday nights were for the band and the club after. Steve was actually relishing the slower speed Eddie asked to go with, because he was learning a lot about Eddie and just having fun without the expectations of a relationship.

So of course that meant something was going to go wrong. A wrong that took the shape of Argyle’s roommate and his girlfriend and suddenly Argyle being cagey about them made too much sense.

Steve was at the corner grocer trying to decide between green beans or a side salad for dinner with Eddie tonight. He pulled out his phone to ask Eddie his opinion when he heard a familiar giggle. A sound he hadn’t heard in a really long time.

He turned around just as Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle stumbled around the center aisle display of avocados, laughing about something Steve didn’t hear.

Suddenly Steve’s insides turned to ice. Argyle stopped first and he looked down embarrassed.

Jonathan spotted him next and the look of pity in his eyes made Steve want to throw up right there in the produce section. The ice traveled up his spine as Nancy finally realized that her companions had stopped laughing. She looked at Jonathan, who pointed behind her.

Steve could see her frown as she turned and then her jaw dropped in recognition.

“Steve?” Nancy asked, jutting her head forward in shock.

He took a step back, looking at Argyle, who refused to meet his eye. That’s when he got it.

The friend that needed Argyle to come from California to take care of stayed was Jonathan.

Jonathan had been a car accident two years ago and Will said that Nancy needed help taking care of him, but both Will and Joyce weren’t able to. Will had never said if they got some help, but when he stopped talking about it, Steve assumed they had.

It had been rough time for the Byers family and while Steve sympathized, the only Byers family member he was still on speaking terms with was Will.

He took another step back and stumbled into different display. This one for oranges. He turned on his heel and scrambled to get away, stumbling and bumping into people before just setting his basket down and running.

Steve managed to make it out to the parking lot before he had a break down. He tried to get into his car, but he kept dropping his keys. Finally he turned around and slid down to the ground as he fought off a panic attack.

Suddenly there was someone beside him holding out a blunt.

“Do you partake?” Argyle asked gently.

Steve nodded. “It’s been awhile, but yeah.”

Argyle lit the blunt and passed it over to Steve who took a deep drag before handing it back to the other man. He let the smoke out, low and slow letting the drug calm his tortured mind.

“They told me not to tell you,” Argyle said after a moment. “They said it would only hurt my chances of becoming your apprentice.”

Steve sighed and threw his head back against the door of the car. “Maybe, maybe not. You’re good, man. I just feel so...lied to.”

Argyle took a hit and handed it back to Steve. “I told them we should at least you know that Jonathan was my roommate. Especially since you’re still bros with his bro, you know.”

That got a small smile out of Steve. “Probably. I don’t know how I would have reacted because I wasn’t given the chance to make the choice for myself.”

“Not telling you took away your agency,” Argyle said sagely, nodded. “That wasn’t cool.”

Steve nodded back. “Yeah, but I do like you. I like your style. I want to keep having you as my apprentice...”

Argyle took the blunt away from Steve’s fingers as he was just letting it burn down. “I feel like there’s a but there somewhere.”

Steve thudded his head against the car door again. “Did they tell you she cheated on me with him?”

Argyle frowned. Steve thought it looked odd on the normally chill man. He shook his head. “They didn’t.”

Steve took the blunt back and took another drag. “Yeah. I didn’t find out until after Nancy and I broke up. Just something Jonathan said about when they hooked up for the first time and when Nancy and I officially broke it off set alarm bells off in my head.”

“The timeline didn’t match up?” Argyle asked.

Steve nodded. “It was such bullshit. I thought I had moved on. Things are going great and then this happens and it feels like a bomb has fucking gone off under my feet.”

“You like Jane Austen, my dude?” Argyle asked.

Steve snorted. “Sort of. Robin loves the A&E ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and watches it all the time. It’s hard to miss.”

Argyle nodded. “It’s like how Jane felt when she saw Mr Bingley for first time since he went to London and ghosted her. Yeah, it was tough that first meeting, but now she knew what to expect the next time.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “You’re right, thanks.”

Argyle gave him a half smile. He stood up and ground out the blunt under his heel.

“See you tomorrow,” Steve said with a timid smile.

“Yeah?” Argyle asked, unsure but hopeful.

Steve stood up. “Yeah. I think you need better friends, but that’s a personal opinion not a professional one. And my professional opinion is that you are a great artist and I want to keep you for as long as you want a job in my shop okay?”

Argyle nodded, a big grin on his face. “See you tomorrow!”

Steve watched him go with a shake of his head. The dude was too nice for the likes of Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers, but there were worst people to be friends with. Like Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins for example. And considering that Steve was the one that had made that dumb mistake, he couldn’t really fault Argyle for his.

He went back into the grocer and finished his shopping. At least he would have a funny story to tell Eddie tonight. He just had to apologize to management first.

***

I hope copying it from back when the tagging was working will help. Fingers crossed because I am running out of things to try at this point.

Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95

[tmbgareok]

I keep my head low as I enter the square Don't know what to think or who might be there Been scared for so long. So long it's not true But I rue this day and I rue you too

But I knew you in your time When alarm-bells filled your mind And what was happening was happening with ten quarters and five dimes Now there's not much left to say It's just excuses for today So let's just save the list for the optimists Someone said they're on their way

So some guy once wrote "Betrayal takes two" I guess I oughta know since I think that's true I'm sorry that you-so strange for so long- Cannot reanimate what is already gone

But we could talk right through the night Under a pitch-black moonless sky And what was possible was possible with no one asking why And I loved you when you ran Round in circles, round with plans Without permission or suspicions You even tolerated slang

[fanofstuff01]

THIRD CHAPTER BABY!

So recall for people who didn’t read the first part: Adam fell and accidentally sold his soul to Valentino, he became one of his favorite whores. And became coworkers with Angel. Also this has 2 more chapters. (first part second part)

Does this include a liitle Adamsapple? Maybe one-sided? I have no idea

This has little to no in real life Valentinos, just whatever trigger warning you think that one Angel voicemail scene has applies here. Also you can punch me, I’m an ignorant on alcohol and I might’ve wrote Angel’s exact same voicemail scene on Adam…

Tags: @woah-why-i-am-here @rius-cave @candyhoiic @puparella @fightinsoda @foreverpeachy2010 @dlf24866

I hope you all have a fantastic day/night <3

“You are NOT pretty by any way!” A pink figure screamed.

Angel was running away from an exorcist. He was out of the Hotel and to his luck, he stumbled to her. Normally he’d shoot her, but he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to bring him with herself to the double death. He saw someone trying to stab her, but she just killed him. He guessed she wanted to see Angel try escaping, get tired and then kill Angel sadistically, because she wasn’t flying.

“Oh shit.” He stared at the wall. It was a dead end. This was it. End of his 138 years. He leaned to the wall and closed his eyes but the pain he expected didn’t came. Instead, he felt something on his legs. It was the exorcist. She was unconscious. Maybe even dead.

“I’m sorry Daisy.” Someone familiar spoke. “Come here bitch.”

“Adam?” He asked. He couldn’t believe it.

“I told you to come here. You are fucking bleeding.” He held his hand out to him and Angel took it.

“Did you just..?”

“Don’t think you mean anything to me. Valentino would fucking end me if he finds out I let something happen to you.” He helped him getting up and led him to a place nearby, it seemed like a hotel.

“How did you even know I was there?”

“L- Some other of them chased me down. You were near my hotel. I saw you.” He simply said, looking away. “Are you gonna get inside? You need treatment.” He stood at a door.

“I-I guess.” He was still shocked. What?

“Good. Follow me.”

He kept following the first man and inspected him. Most of the feathers on his right wing were torn off, his clothes were ripped and he had lots of tiny scars all over his body, one on his forehead looked a bit serious, still sort of bleeding. Why is he is more caring about me when he himself is bleeding? He definitely went through something. Maybe something with the angel he said that was following him?

“How did you even managed to take her down so fastly!?”

“I was their fucking leader. I trained them before. Of fucking course I know their weak spots.” He opened a door for Angel. “Get inside.”

“Ooh.” He sat down to a messed up bed as the sinner went to get medical supplies.

“Give me your arm.”

Firstly, he cleaned and disinfected his arm, causing a low hiss. He then took a bandage and started bandaging his left arm as he just stared at him.

They weren’t exactly on the term of friends at that moment. Angel still didn’t forgot who he was, and the other sinner was still hating the whole hell, so they just tolerated eachother. However, he was on the gray area for now to Angel. He knew it could be hard to drop your pride and accept this was your place now.

But no matter which area he was in, he would NOT expect him to be the one to protect him.

“What happened to your wing?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Are you going to fix that?” He pointed to his head.

“Maybe.”

“Why did they even show up? Today’s not the extermination day!” Angel was starting to get annoyed.

“I have no fucking idea. And done. You have to be more careful, slut.”

“Ii… Will.” He looked around the room as the former exorcist went to put the supplies back. It was a cool room at all, but it was messed up as hell. Maybe even worse than the one they were in.

“Soo… Do you think there are more of them?” He carefully asked. His colleague didn’t seem to be in the right mindspace. Not that he cared though.

“As I said, I fucking have no idea.” He lied down to his bed and pulled his blankets, completely ignoring the other demon.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” He closed his eyes, supposedly trying to go to sleep.

“Hey. Get up.” Angel realized the torned part of his wings were bigger when he lied down, and so was the bleedig point.

“What the fuck.”

“I dunno much about wings, but DO know you can’t ignore the blood lake on your forehead. Sit down. I’ll take care of it.”

“Why would you do that.”

“What do you think Val would do to me if he found out I let YOU die? Was that because of angelic steel?”

“Oh. Yes.” All of his words were blank and emotionless. Even when he asked questions, he wasn’t curious or surprised or any other kinds of things a question could carry. He just wanted the information, and when he got it, it was over. No reaction.

“Okie.” He brought back the supplies he used to the bed. Like he did, he cleaned the blood first. But the other porn demon didn’t flich like he did when he pressed the disinfection cotton to his face. Just one of his eyes twitch. Lastly, he bandaged it. “Is there somethin you can do for your wings?”

“No there isn’t.” He lied down again. Well he could use something to ease the pain but he deserved it.

“Okay… I guess I’ll go then.” He collected the medic kit and put it back.

See you tomorrow?”

“I guess. Goodbye.”

“Bye” What the fuck happened to this fucker?

— Continuing —

“Seriously, you need to stop drinking THAT much at nights. One day you’ll get a hungover on a work day and Josh says Valentino becomes an even bigger piece of shit if he realizes.”

“C’moon, I AM being careful! I’m almost as old as the fuckin Earth is!”

“Just a warning.” They sat down at the bar and Adam put his mask on the table. “Where’s Husker?”

“Him and Bambi left for some important shit I gue-“

“Hey gays!” Someone behind them cheerfully said and alarm bells started to scream in Adam’s head as he recognized the voice. “Why are you so dirty? Do your clothes need washing?”

“Hi Niff! And no, we’re fine. Did you saw that GIANT cockroach on the third floor second bathroom?” Angel calmly said while Adam was frozen.

“No, I haven’t. I should end it!”

“I will never get used to that gremlin.” Adam watched her spinting away, subconsciously putting a hand on his stomach. There were like 9 x’es as a reminder of what got him there. He shook his head and got up from his seat, wanting to get him and Angel a thing or two.

“Can’t expect you to I guess.” He took out his phone and checked his noftications. “Hellify says Verosika released a new single… 10 messages from Husk… I can check them later…”

“You have to right?” He teased. He couldn’t help himself. They weren’t dating at the moment, but he knew how the cat and the spider had a special bond.

“Can you not.”

“Okay, okay. Do you want some? I’m filling for our missing bartender today.”

“I can have one glass. Wine.” Adam took a bottle for himself and one to prepare Angel’s.

“Here it is.”

“Thanks.”

He took a mouthful and opened his own phone. He didn’t have a lot of messages. Just Valentino’s. Luckily there were only five. He sighed, he’ll listen them later. He put the phone away and watched Angel who looked like he was waiting someone. Well he did.

“When do you think they’ll be back?” The spider drank down his glass and kept looking at the door.

“I dunno. Sad because your bartender is not here to listen you and tell you sweet shit no friend says?” He smirked.

“I am. Sad because you don’t have someone to do that for you?” He said mockingly.

“Meh. Who needs a partner. They always end the same anyway.” He looked away from his friend, drinking endlessly.

“I saw Steve looking at you like that last week.” He scoffed.

“Steve can lick his ass. I’m not gonna get together with anyone. I’m fine like this.” He pretty much muttered the last part to himself. Well he DID wanted someone in his life… But it wasn’t gonna happen. There was no way he’d ever view him in that light anymore. And Adam was not the type to chase impossible dreams.

“Your subconscious hugging your pillow says otherwise though.”

“WHA- Do you fucking watch me when I sleep?!”

“Relaax, I went to wake you up once. You were snuggling to it too much that I was surprised you weren’t tryna fuck it.”

“Oh please.”

They chatted together for a while when they saw someone unfamiliar. A short blue angler fish demon with big red glasses. He looked at the pornstars suspiciously. They returned the favor.

“Who the fuck are you?” The first man asked. Though he seemed familiar to him.

“Who the fuck are YOU? I came here today. I’m a guest.” He coldly asked.

“So are we, smartass.” Angel rolled his eyes. “He asked your name. Mine’s Angel and that’s Adam.”

“Adam? As the-

“First man, yes.”

“Oh. Baxter. Can you give me a whiskey?” He sat down to a seat of the bar. He still didn’t looked like he was comfortable.

“Suure.” He still tried to recall where he remembered the guy. And it hit him.

“Here Val. My best inventor did what he could do in three days. Right, Bax?” The screen-face said, handing out Adam’s new torture to his owner.

“I did, sir.” He said. He looked as bored as Adam was.

“Awesome! You know Voxy, you should let me borrow your employees more~” He purred.

“Nuh-uh. This guy is useful. Come Baxter. We have our own job. See you Val.” They walked away, leaving Adam with the worst boss in the world.

“Waait… You work for Voxtech don’tcha? You are the fucker who designed this torture!” He pointed at his mask.

“Yes, and? My boss just gave me what I needed to do, I didn’t even knew it was for you.” He looked bored. “Now can you please give me that whiskey?”

“How about-“ He was gonna tell Mr Serious Shithead to go grab it on his own, but Angel gave him a “Just fuckin do it, Charlie would be happy” look. He groaned, he was right. Princess Rainbows wasn’t that bad when you get used to her, not to mention she was the only fucking person in the hotel -besides Angel- who understood he was in depression when he showed up for the first time and didn’t bother him until he was in the right headspace again. He could at least try being nice to her guests.

“Here.” He forced himself to smile “What are you doing here so late anyway?”

“Last time I checked 10 wasn’t late.” He sipped from his glass.

“Whatever.” He shrugged and finished his own bottle. “I’m heading off to bed now. And,” He took his belongings from the table. “Don’t come into my room ever again.”

“What? Worried because I can saw you doing unspeakable?”

“Please.” He chuckled and went to his room. Locking it in case the cyclops might try some shit again when he swas asleep. He lied down to his bed and took his phone out, smile fading. Do it. It’ll be over. He said to himself. It’ll only be worse if you don’t.

He sighed and opened the first one. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around that much for the last few hours, I missed you so much… But they told me you went to your stupid little hotel early when I finally managed to go there… And that makes me sad…”

“YOU FUCKING PRICK! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING!? YOU ARE FUCKING SUPPOSED TO STAY FOR ANOTHER HOUR AFTER OUR JOB IS OVER! DO YOU THINK THIS IS SOMETHING YOU CAN DO?!”

“Of course I get it, you were tired… But you could stay for another hour right… Do you want to play my nerves on purpose..?”

“Oh don’t you worry your head about this baby, I WILL FUCKING MAKE YOU PAY FOR THAT!”

“See you tomorrow, Addie~ And don’t forget: People like you CAN’T have healthy relationships. Partners of people like you are ALWAYS pretending. They are always lying to your face, always knowing you are not ‘special’ for them, always just wanting a piece of a good cake, always using how naive you are, always-“

He got up harshly and threw his phone to the wall. When the fuck did he start crying?

Lilith, Eve, Lute… They all left him. For something better. Something more worthy than him. They saw nothing in him but a toy to play with. And then there was him… Of course he would chase something better, SOMEONE better, he was just dumb enough to think it meant-

Alcohol. That’s what he needed. It might not be a solution, but it was an escape. Escape from reality. Things hurt less when he wasn’t in control of his body. He went to his closet and took out five bottles, completely ignoring the Angel-voiced part of his brain.

Did ya like it? :>

I gotta say this might be my favorite AU of Adam.