#seeing this man smile so much is giving me all sorts of joy

[redocity]

Buck with a reader who is Chris' teacher, and Eddie asks Buck to pick him up from school since he's on call whereas Buck isn't, but Buck got caught up in a little traffic so he's late so it's just Chris and reader hanging out in class, and when Chris sees Buck he's so dang happy and reader finds it infectious, and Buck and reader hit it off? (Maybe Buck 3.0?)

PICK-UP — E.BUCKLEY

buck pick’s up chris from school as a favour, and finds himself oddly fond of chris’ teacher.

evan buckley x gn!teacher!reader | fluff | 1.2k | masterlist.

a/n — buck 3.0 deserves all the happiness in the world

You glanced at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick by as the classroom emptied out, until it left just you and Christopher.

His classmates had already been picked up, one by one, but Chris was still waiting patiently in his seat near the window, flipping through a book about space.

You smiled at the sight. He was always so curious, and it didn’t take much for him to lose himself in a new discovery.

“Everything okay, Chris?” You asked, coming over to sit beside him.

He looked up, his face bright with a grin. “Yeah, my dad said Buck was coming to pick me up today,”

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but glance at the clock again. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” you said, hoping to reassure him.

Eddie had called earlier to let you know that his shift was running late, so Buck, whoever that was, had stepped in to help.

You hadn’t met him before, but from the way Chris talked about him in class, it was clear Buck was an important figure in his life.

The minutes stretched on, and the school parking lot outside began to clear out, with fewer and fewer cars rolling through. It wasn’t like you had any pressing plans, but you hated to think of Chris waiting much longer.

“Want to play a quick game while we wait?” you suggested, pulling out a deck of cards from your desk.

Chris nodded eagerly, and before long, the two of you were playing a quiet round of Go Fish, his laughter filling the room as you tried to act overly dramatic each time he asked for a card.

You couldn’t help but enjoy moments like these—teaching wasn’t always easy, but it was days like this, spending time with kids like Chris, that reminded you why you loved it so much.

Then, just as you were reshuffling the deck for another round, you heard hurried footsteps echoing down the hall. The door swung open, and a tall man burst in, slightly out of breath but grinning widely.

“Hey, buddy!” he called, his voice full of warmth.

“Buck!” Chris’s face lit up in a way that was absolutely infectious, his joy so pure that it tugged at your heartstrings. He quickly abandoned the card game, pushing his chair back as Buck crossed the room in a few long strides to give him a hug.

“Sorry I'm late,” Buck said, kneeling down to meet Chris’s height. “Got caught in some traffic. But hey, I'm here now!”

Chris beamed up at him, clearly unfazed by the wait. “It’s okay! We were playing Go Fish!”

Buck chuckled, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for the first time, and you felt an odd flutter in your chest. He was handsome in a casual, rugged sort of way—dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, but with an air of confidence that made him stand out.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, standing up and extending a hand toward you. “I’m Buck, by the way.”

You took his hand, smiling warmly. “No problem at all. I’m Chris’ teacher.”

His grip was firm but friendly, and when he let go, you found yourself still feeling the warmth of it. “Chris talks about you a lot,” Buck said, his tone light but sincere. “Says you’re the best at making science fun.”

Chris, still holding onto Buck’s side, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, they’re the best!”

You laughed, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks at the compliment. “Well, Chris makes it easy. He’s a great student.”

Buck’s eyes softened as he looked at Chris, the fondness unmistakable. “Yeah, he is.”

The moment hung in the air for a beat, comfortable yet filled with an energy you couldn’t quite put your finger on. There was something about Buck—his warmth, the way he interacted with Chris, and the way he had this effortless ability to make you feel at ease.

“Can we finish the game before we go?” Chris blinks between the two of you, and you spare a glance in Buck’s direction at the request. It was his call at the end of the day.

“Please?”

Buck folds almost immediately. “Alright,”

“Do you play Go Fish?” you asked, a playful challenge in your voice, as you held up the deck of cards.

Buck grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not sure you want to challenge me to join you. I’m kind of a pro.”

“Oh yeah?” you raise an eyebrow amusedly. “Care to test that theory?”

Chris’s face lit up even more at the idea, clearly excited at the prospect of Buck joining in. “Yeah, let’s play! Come on, Buck!”

Buck shot you a look, full of that infectious charm, and you found yourself laughing despite yourself. “Alright, deal me in,” he said, pulling up a chair.

The three of you spent the next fifteen minutes laughing and playing cards, with Chris dramatically declaring every match he made while Buck exaggeratedly groaned each time you won a round. There was a lightness in the room that made time slip away without you even noticing.

Before long, though, the game came to a close, and it was time for them to head out. As Buck helped Chris gather his things, you stood up, feeling a slight pang of disappointment that the moment was ending.

“Thanks again for staying late,” Buck said, his voice softer now. “I appreciate it,”

“Of course,” you replied. “Anytime.”

Buck hesitated for a second, then smiled. “Maybe we’ll see you around?”

There was something in the way he said it—hopeful, almost—as if he wasn’t just talking about school pickups. You found yourself nodding, a warmth spreading through you that had little to do with the classroom. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Maybe you will,”

As Buck and Chris walked out the door, Chris fumbling with his crutches to wave over his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile.

The room felt a little quieter without them, but you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see Buck. Something told you he’d be around again, and maybe—maybe—that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

[yinwaryuri]

YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE

[yandere-writer-momo]

Part 2 🖤I made the demon king a black man. I don’t see many Yandere POC OCs 🖤

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon King x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero (mentioned)

TW: imprisonment, kidnapping, stalking, uncomfortable themes, sexual themes, Somniaphilia, Dacryphilia, etc.

Part 1

You woke up wrapped in the silk sheets of snow unfamiliar bed. Your eyes wild and your heart raced in your chest like a startled animal. Where were you and where was Reinhardt?! Why were there candles everywhere in this dark bedroom? Was Reinhardt planning to… oh god you were terrified.

You felt a sob rack through you when reality set in. Had Reinhardt stolen you away to live out some sort of sick fantasy instead of going through with his quest to slay the demon king? No… Reinhardt wouldn’t bring you to such a luxurious home. But who on earth brought you here?

“I see you’re awake, my delicate flower.” Your head snapped to the doorway to see the silhouette of a large man. You felt your blood run cold and a shiver run down your spine by his presence. That raspy baritone voice belonged to a stranger.

You flinched when the man suddenly slapped his clawed hands on the end of the king sized bed. Your eyes met gold for the first time and you seeped your heart stopped in your chest from pure terror. There was no mistaking who your captor was… he was the demon king.

“What’s the matter, saintess?” He chuckled as he reached a taloned finger out to hook around a strand of your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”

You felt tears stream down your cheeks when he flashed his long fangs at you. He was bewitchingly beautiful with his burnt umber skin and golden eyes. There was no doubt he was a demon and that fact terrified you. What did he want from you? Was he… was he going to kill you?

The demon king sighed at your shivering form before he moved himself to sit beside you. His hand moved to hold yours. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You sniffled when he began to wipe away your tears. “W… what?”

“I’d never hurt my saintess.” The demon king gave you a toothy smile. “My beautiful, merciful saintess… my salvation.”

You gasped when he brought your right hand up to his lips to press a tender kiss to the back of it. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you here with me… you’ll be safe here.”

“I’m just a bit confused about all of this…” You felt so small under his intense gaze, like he was about to pounce on you at any second. “Who are you and why have you taken me?”

The demon lord chuckled as he rose up from the bed to stand at his full, intimidating height. His curved black horns nearly added another foot to his height which made he give you a smirk. “Why I am the Demon King but you can call me Amon.”

The demon king- no, Amon, bowed his head to you. “And I took you to save you.”

You were surprised to see a tray of freshly made food in front of you when Amon snapped his fingers. Your stomach growled at the delicious sight, but you were hesitant to accept… Amon quickly caught onto your hesitance and took a bite of the food for you. “Don’t worry, it’s real and completely edible. Only the best for my saintess.”

You shyly took a bite and smiled at the taste. It was lovely…

Amon smiled warmly at you, his golden eyes studied your satisfied smile in pure joy. He was so happy to please you!

Amon ran his talons through his long black hair with a smile. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You’re safe here.”

As the weeks melted into months, Amon kept his word. None of his demon nor monster henchmen were mean towards you, unlike the hero’s party. Sure Amon was never far from you, but his company was much preferred over Reinhardt’s. Amon would bring you meals and made sure you had fresh clothes. He pampered you like a beloved pet.

Though it was never officially stated, you were Amon’s lover. And thus, you treated as such by his subjects. They’d wait for you on hand and foot. You received various expensive clothing and jewelry, they were eager to make you smile. It was such a stark contrast compared to your treatment prior…

You often gazed out your window at the volcanic city below. It was fascinating just how different monsters and demons lived from humans… so why did the humans want to destroy them so much?

You jumped when Amon entered the room to wrap his muscular arms around your waist, his nose pressed onto your shoulder. A few of his box braids tickled your skin. “I missed you so much… I just wish the humans would leave us alone. I grow tired of the hero and his party. They’re so much weaker without your barriers and healing. To think they never treated you well. What a bunch of losers.”

You turned to gaze at Amon in interest. “What is it that they’re after? Why do the humans hate your people so much?”

Amon gave you the softest of smiles, a bit of his fangs peaked out from under his lip. “Our magic stones. Monsters and demons produce enough magic stones to fuel humanity for eons… they’re worth a lot of money to humans.”

Amon pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his gold eyes stared expectantly up at you. “You’re the only human to ever question their greed and motives. You don’t wish to be bound to a destiny thrust upon you by the world.”

Amon bent down on one knee and pressed his lips over your palms and fingers. “Join me. Together we can defy our destiny. You don’t have to be a Saintess forced to marry the hero and I won’t have to be a page in the history books.”

You felt a blush on your cheeks when he tilted his handsome face at you. “Let’s watch the world burn together.”

And now you had a choice to make. To fulfill the destiny predetermined for you or to defy your destiny.

[callsigns-haze]

Family Business

Summary: Hangman finally goes back to top gun and the daggers....well they want the tea

Warning: Contains alcohol, cursing, teasing, mentions of labour, postpartum.

Word count: 2636 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as part three of Little Life and Silly little life

Three weeks had passed since Jake had set foot on the Top Gun base, and as he walked into the hangar, he could feel all eyes on him. The usual hum of the hangar, the sounds of jets being prepped, filled the air, but this time it felt like he was walking into an ambush. He had been out of the game long enough for them to notice—and that meant one thing: relentless teasing.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, Phoenix spotted him and was on him like a hawk. “Well, look who finally decided to show his face,” she said with a grin, crossing her arms. “I was beginning to think you forgot how to fly, Hangman.”

Jake smirked, unbothered as he swaggered toward them. “I don’t forget anything, Trace.”

“Yeah, except how to show up,” Rooster chimed in, leaning against one of the jets. His aviators glinted in the sunlight as he shot Jake a smirk. “Where’ve you been, man? Can’t imagine someone like you being tied up with ‘family business.’ Sounds like an excuse to me.”

Jake rolled his eyes, leaning against a nearby crate. “Family business, Bradshaw. Not an excuse. It’s called responsibility, but I wouldn’t expect you to know much about that.”

Rooster raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile spreading across his face. “Responsibility? You? What, did you have to help your mom put up Christmas lights or something?”

Phoenix snorted, nudging Bob in the ribs. “Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, family man. Didn’t think I’d see the day.”

Payback and Fanboy joined in, shaking their heads as they exchanged looks. “Hangman with family business? Did the world end while you were gone?” Payback teased. “Or is this some weird alternate universe we’re living in?”

Fanboy laughed, throwing up his hands. “Seriously, what kind of family business does someone like Hangman even have? I thought your whole life was flying and flirting.”

Jake shrugged, keeping his expression neutral despite the barrage of questions. “Family business is just that—family business. Nothing for you all to worry about.”

“Come on, man,” Bob finally spoke up, his quiet curiosity breaking through. “You’ve been gone for weeks. That’s not like you. We’re just trying to figure out what’s up.”

Jake could feel their eyes all on him, waiting for some sort of juicy explanation, but he wasn’t about to give them anything. Not yet. Not about Y/N, and definitely not about their daughter Ellie-Mae. The last thing he needed was the whole squad knowing about the tiny bundle of joy waiting for him back in Texas.

“I told you,” Jake said smoothly, his hands in his pockets as he kept his tone casual. “Just family stuff. Nothing to lose sleep over.”

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, her arms still crossed as she studied him. “You sure you didn’t get married while you were gone? Or maybe you’re secretly a CIA agent and just can’t tell us.”

Rooster laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, if Hangman was in the CIA, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He’d be bragging about it every chance he got.”

Jake shot Rooster a look, but before he could respond, Phoenix waved a hand. “Whatever. It’s not like you’re gonna tell us anything, so I’m not wasting any more of my time.”

The others murmured in agreement, their curiosity still piqued but knowing better than to press Jake any further. The teasing eased up, and they turned back to their tasks, still throwing the occasional glance his way. But Coyote—standing back, watching with his arms crossed—had remained quiet the entire time, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He was the only one who knew the truth, after all. Coyote had been there from the beginning, the one person Jake trusted with everything. He knew about Y/N, about the love that had blindsided Jake and changed his life in ways he never expected. And now, he knew about Ellie-Mae—their beautiful little girl with Jake’s eyes and Y/N’s fierce spirit. Coyote had kept Jake’s secret this whole time, and the amusement on his face showed just how much he was enjoying watching Jake dodge all the questions.

Once the teasing finally died down, Jake excused himself from the group, heading toward the locker room to grab his gear. He could still feel the weight of their eyes on his back, but it didn’t bother him. He was used to the squad’s prying, but he wasn’t ready to let them in on his new life just yet.

As he rounded the corner, making sure he was out of earshot, he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, Coyote’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he started shaking him playfully.

“Hangman,” Coyote laughed, gripping Jake’s shoulders as he gave him a few good shakes. “You lucky son of a bitch! Walking around here like nothing happened, when you’ve got a damn baby at home!”

Jake chuckled, turning around to face him, though he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others weren’t following. “Keep your voice down, Javy. You trying to let the whole base know?”

Coyote let out another laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Man, I still can’t believe it. Ellie-Mae, huh? I knew you were going soft when you started talking about Y/N, but a baby? That’s next-level.”

Jake grinned, unable to help himself as the thought of Ellie-Mae filled his mind. “Yeah, well, didn’t exactly plan on it, but… here we are.”

Coyote clapped him on the back, his eyes shining with genuine excitement. “You’re a dad now, bro. That’s wild. How’s it feel?”

Jake paused for a moment, letting the question sink in. He thought about Y/N, the late nights with Ellie in his arms, and the way his heart practically burst every time he looked at her. “It’s… crazy,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Hard to believe I could love someone that much. It’s terrifying, but in the best way.”

Coyote chuckled, shaking his head. “I bet. You better start getting used to diapers and spit-up, man. You’re in for a wild ride.”

Jake rolled his eyes, though the grin never left his face. “Yeah, well, it’s worth it. Y/N and Ellie—they’re everything.”

Coyote’s expression softened as he gave Jake another firm clap on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy, Hangman. You know that, right?”

Jake nodded, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, Javy. I know.”

With that, they stood there for a moment in silence, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them. Coyote was right—Jake was lucky. Luckier than he ever thought possible. And as much as he loved flying, he knew that his real world was waiting for him back home.

That evening, the Dagger squad made it their mission to squeeze answers out of Jake—answers they knew he wasn’t going to give up willingly. But their tactics had shifted from teasing to something more strategic: drinks. They’d dragged him to the bar near the base, determined to make him pay for disappearing for three weeks without so much as a solid explanation.

Phoenix nudged him as they settled around a table. “Alright, Hangman, since you won’t tell us where you’ve been, the least you can do is buy the first round.”

Jake rolled his eyes, but his grin never faltered. “Oh, I see how it is. You think a few drinks are gonna loosen my tongue?”

Rooster smirked from across the table. “You never know. Maybe after a couple of shots, you’ll be singing like a bird.”

The whole squad chuckled at that, and even Jake had to laugh, though he wasn’t planning on revealing anything. “Fine, fine,” he said, standing up. “But don’t expect any stories. This is just because I’m a generous guy.”

Payback clapped him on the back as he headed toward the bar. “We’ll take what we can get, man. You owe us.”

Jake made his way through the crowd, ordered the drinks, and carried the tray back to the table where the squad was already lining up a game of pool. The atmosphere was lively, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. He handed out the drinks, then leaned against the pool table, chalking up a cue as Rooster took the first shot.

But just as Jake was about to join in, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He glanced down at the screen, and his heart did a little flip when he saw Y/N’s name pop up, along with the FaceTime icon.

“Of course,” Phoenix muttered when she saw him glance at his phone. “Let me guess—more ‘family business’?”

Jake smirked, putting the cue down. “Yeah, something like that. I gotta take this.”

A collective groan rose from the squad. “Come on, man!” Rooster protested, lining up his next shot. “Can’t it wait?”

Jake shook his head. “Not this time, Bradshaw. You guys keep playing. I’ll be back.”

He slipped outside the bar, leaving the noise behind as he stepped into the cool evening air. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the sidewalk, and he found a quiet spot away from the crowds before answering the call. As the screen connected, the familiar sight of Y/N’s desk came into view. She was sitting there, her hair tied back in a messy bun, wearing one of Jake’s old t-shirts. But what really caught his attention was the tiny bundle wrapped against her chest—Ellie, snug in her baby wrap, sound asleep.

Jake’s heart swelled at the sight of them, and his usual cocky grin softened into something more genuine. “Hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice low. “How’re my girls doing?”

Y/N smiled, her eyes tired but full of love. “We’re good. She just went down after her evening fuss. Thought I’d call you before it gets too late.”

Jake leaned against the wall, his smile widening as he watched Ellie’s little chest rise and fall with each soft breath. “She’s getting bigger every day,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “I swear she looks different already.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “That’s because she is. You’re missing out on all her growth spurts while you’re out there playing pool and buying your squad drinks.”

Jake winced playfully. “Busted. Yeah, they dragged me out tonight, trying to get me to spill where I’ve been. They don’t know about you or Ellie yet.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Still keeping us a secret, huh?”

“For now,” Jake said, his tone softer. “I just want to keep this between us a little longer, you know?”

She nodded, her hand gently resting on Ellie’s back. “I get it. We’re your secret weapon.”

Jake’s smile softened even more, his heart swelling with how perfect this moment felt. “Exactly. How’s Ellie been today? No more colic?”

“She’s been a little angel today,” Y/N said, glancing down at the sleeping baby. “I think the baby wrap helps. She loves being close like this.”

Jake’s gaze lingered on them, a quiet longing in his eyes. “I miss you both so much,” he murmured. “Wish I could be there.”

“We miss you too,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth. “But we’ll be here when you get back. And maybe next time, you can tell the squad the real reason why you’ve been missing.”

Jake chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, maybe. One day. But not yet. For now, I’m keeping you two all to myself.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes soft as they locked onto his through the screen. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They stayed like that for a moment, just watching each other through the screen, neither wanting to hang up. Finally, Jake sighed. “Alright, darlin’. I should let you get some rest. I’ll call you again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft. “We’ll be waiting. Love you, Jake.”

“Love you too,” he said, his voice warm as he ended the call. He lingered for a moment, staring at the blank screen, already missing them more than he thought possible.

With a deep breath, he tucked his phone back into his pocket and headed back inside, ready to face the squad again, but this time with a little more peace in his heart.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Rooster spotted him, leaning on his pool cue with a cocky grin. “Oh great, he’s back. And look at him—moping around like a lovesick puppy.”

Phoenix, already lining up her next shot, glanced up and smirked. “I thought you were supposed to be Hangman, not Hang-up-the-phone-and-sulk man.”

The rest of the squad laughed, and even Bob, always the quiet one, chuckled under his breath. “What was that, your mom calling to check up on you?”

Jake rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite muster his usual bravado. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Baby on board.”

Payback, who had been eyeing him from the bar, raised his glass in Jake’s direction. “No, seriously, man. Who’s got you all down and out? You were fine before you left to take that call, now you look like someone kicked your dog.”

Fanboy leaned back in his chair, grinning wide. “I’ll bet it’s a girl. That’s the only thing that ever makes a guy like Jake Seresin go all soft.”

Jake shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. “You all have way too much time on your hands, you know that?”

“Come on, Hangman, spill it,” Rooster pressed, the competitive glint in his eyes still there even after the teasing. “You’re not this distracted unless it’s something big. Or someone.”

Jake shook his head, not ready to let them in on the truth. He leaned on the pool table, picking up a cue as if nothing had changed. “It’s just family stuff, like I said. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Yeah, we’ll believe that when you stop looking like you’re about to write a country song,” Phoenix said, taking her shot and sinking a ball into the corner pocket.

The whole squad chuckled, and Jake couldn’t help but smirk at that one. “Real original, Trace.”

But despite the banter, it was clear that Jake’s head wasn’t entirely in the game. He took a lazy shot, missing a pocket he would normally nail without even thinking. Rooster raised an eyebrow at the miss, exchanging a look with Phoenix.

“Wow, you really are off your game tonight,” Rooster teased. “First you disappear for three weeks, now you can’t even make a simple shot? Whoever’s on the other end of that phone call must be something special.”

Jake leaned on the table, sighing a little as he looked at the group. “Maybe I’m just tired of carrying you guys all the time.”

“Oh, so now we’re back to old Hangman,” Payback said with a grin. “Nice to see some things don’t change.”

But even as Jake tried to join back in the banter, his heart wasn’t in it. His thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N and Ellie, to the soft rise and fall of Ellie’s chest, the way Y/N had smiled at him through the screen. It was a different kind of responsibility weighing on him now, one that made everything else seem a little less important.

Phoenix narrowed her eyes at him, clearly not buying the act. “You’re seriously going to keep us in the dark, aren’t you?”

Jake shrugged, still playing it off. “Family business, Trace. That’s all it is.”

The squad groaned in unison, but the teasing softened, and the game went on. Yet as the night wore on, Jake couldn’t quite shake that faraway look in his eyes, no matter how many jokes the others threw his way. And though they kept up the ribbing, no one pressed him for more, leaving the mystery of his absence hanging in the air, unanswered.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged

[prettyboykatsuki]

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

[lemon-berri]

Imagine Gojo Satoru with a partner who loves to bake...

Everyone knows this man has an abominable sweet tooth. He quite literally doesn't stop, sometimes you swear he has a bottomless pit where his stomach should be. How does he eat that much sugar and still look that good anyway?

But he's also a busy man. Oftentimes he works into the early hours of the morning, he doesn't sleep much, and what little free time he has he prefers to spend with you.

Satoru thinks he's the luckiest man alive. Not only is his sweet partner the most gorgeous person he's ever witnessed, not only do you take amazing care of him, but you also bake.

It's a common occurrence for him to wake up on the mornings to the smell of something sweet enticing him towards the kitchen. He finds you there. Usually you wake up bright and early so by the time he saunters out of bed you're already washing up. He always stops you. After all, you've been up putting your efforts into baking - it's only fair that he does the washing.

He loves to try the new recipes you attempt. Macaroons? He's inhaling those. Strawberry pie? Gone in one sitting. Once you made a Bruce cake, Satoru still swears that was the best day of his life.

He's definitely the type of partner who'd take interest in your hobbies. Seeing you happy makes him happy- why wouldn't he want to be a part of your joy? So sometimes you bake together. Albeit, to varying degrees of success.

Satoru tries his best, he really does. But he can't help the fact he's quite messy in the kitchen. Folding batter turns into a splashing mess of ingredients around the kitchen. His face is white with flour. How did he get icing on the ceiling?

But there are also the times it goes well. When he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and watches with interest how you decorate cupcakes with floral frosting. Or when you stir things together, your slow and steady pace mixed with his strength.

You kiss batter off his fingers to taste test your creations. While he leaves sweet kisses on your cheek where flour has somehow stained your beautiful skin. You both choose your favourite flavours and toppings together, and come up with all sorts of ideas on what to make. Whether chaotic or sweet, baking together is always more fun.

His heart melts when he finds the little treats you like to pack him with his lunch. A triple chocolate muffin, perhaps some cookies. Sometimes he finds cake pops decorated like various characters in there. And you leave him sweet notes to go along with it, ones that get him through any hard day.

The house always smells like sugar and the sweetest of fruits, the fridge is full to the brim with treats, and that sweet smile of yours is enough to give anyone a sugar rush. Ever since you came into his life, everything's been sweeter. And he wouldn't trade your dynamic for the world.

Dropping this and running away.

Once again this isn't proof read if you find any spelling errors please do hesitate to tell me.

Thank you for reading 🩵 ily all

[lunartuness]

Spoilers for Book of Bill

Thoughts on Bill talking about Ford

I was not prepared for canon Billford in the year 2024 and yet here we are.

But seriously, I'm kinda surprised how much Bill actually liked and valued Ford? Obviously it's in a horrible, toxic, never come within the same continent as them kind of way but it's just, I always kind of figured their relationship (while obviously adoring from Ford's end due to Journal 3) was mainly just Bill humoring Ford long enough until he no longer needs him. Like, 'yeah, sure, of course you're special, I definitely believe in you' sort of nonsense.

But in Bill's book it's implied multiple times he had as close to a crush on Ford as he's probably capable of. I mean, the whole 'love cage' section is literally verbatim what he did to Ford (and just wait until they're mentally broken enough to confess their true feelings! Fear and love are basically the same thing!) And in the valentine's section he talks about leaving mice, which again, he did for Ford's birthday, and then when he wasn't happy about that, got him drunk enough to have a good time (implied kinda forcibly? since Ford declined beforehand). Then there's the fact he literally calls Fiddleford a third wheel (also coincidentally after we just learn Fiddleford spent hours on handmade gifts for Ford and forgot to get his wife anything).

And when Ford finally does catch on and things go bad? Bill tries first to talk with Ford through the zombies (to manipulate him, of course, but also Admit it, you'd miss me. I have missed you, and Bill actually smiles.) And then leaves little sticky notes asking nicely to talk. When he finally gets mad enough to escalate, he still does so in a very not-violent-for-Bill-way. Sure, killing Ford wouldn't help him but we know how messed up Bill can get. And yet what does he do? He leaves Ford's body to almost freeze, only to have a warm fire and a love song playing when he wakes up. He causes mild public disturbances and gives him an obnoxious tattoo. When he finally, finally snaps is when we start to see more of the Bill we got in the show when he tortures Ford a bit. But even that is mild?

Like, Bill rearranged a man's face for fun and takes joy in destroying the Nightmare Realm. But after threating Ford he leaves him unharmed. Very mentally scarred, yes, but safe and intact. He even gives him three days to get his life together. And then treats it like a messy breakup when Ford finally breaks free. Hell, it seems like he was more upset about losing Ford than losing the portal.

All this is to say that I think from Bill's point of view he was being genuinely kind to Ford. He gave him gifts, complimented him, and tried to work things out peacefully when Ford started pulling away (again, his very messed up version of peaceful, but the point still stands).

So when they do finally meet again? Bill still offers Ford a spot next to him. Again, I originally thought this was more playing into Ford's ego while taking a cheap shot at him (i.e. you'll fit in great with the freaks!), but by now it's obvious he wants Ford. He's petty and cruel and horribly abusive about it, but in his own twisted way he likes Ford. A lot. Enough to show mercy (or at least not be as violent as he could be) and to try and give him multiple chances to come back, no apology needed!

And the worst part is Bill knows this. Bill's trying to make this relationship work. He feels connected to Ford in a way he quite possibly hasn't felt with anyone else. And he knows its doomed to fail. In his mind he has to destroy everything he touches and everything he cares about. Any other connections he has are either superficial or dead to him (usually literally). This relationship will end the same way, it's just in Bill's nature. To him, that's all his relationships are capable of being.

All this just makes me sad and adds so much depth and I'm obsessed. There's just something about self-destructive and truly cruel characters having moments where they wish they weren't that way. Where they'll come the closest they ever can to apologizing for how they are.

(Also Bill literally wanted Ford to get a tattoo saying 'If lost return to Bill' like we cannot just ignore that oh my god)

[atlabeth]

🧸 - i hope this piques your interest LOL but i'm deep in a benedict bridgerton mood waiting for s3 to air

could you do a fluffy slow burn blurb for him where reader completely takes him by surprise? up to your interpretation men are just always sexier when caught off guard and proven wrong 😁☝🏼

happy 3k again my love!!

twin flames

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: you and benedict bond at an art exhibition. he only seems to be oblivious when it can embarrass him most.

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! it was literally the first one and it's taken me almost a month. lol. im so sorry. but i hope you enjoy!!!

wc: 1.1k

warning(s): all fluff

“This is beautiful,” Benedict murmured, and he glanced at the man beside him. “Is this not one of the best pieces you’ve seen?” 

“I suppose it’s alright,” the man shrugged. 

“Just alright?” He frowned. “Are you feeling well, sir?” 

The man frowned as well as he moved onto the next painting, fully ignoring Benedict. He just shook his head and focused back on the painting, thinking aloud. 

“The use of color is just—” he shook his head again. “It’s incredible. The way the brushstrokes are used for depth and the unique way of shading… It all melds together so well, and yet I never would have thought to use any of it in that way.” 

“Is that true?” 

Benedict’s eyes flickered down to see you by his side, a pretty woman in a rather unassuming dress. He’d never seen you before at one of these exhibits, so you must have been new. He would have remembered a face such as yours. 

“Certainly,” he said, nodding with exuberance. “Art is meant to make you imagine, feel— when I look at this piece, I feel some sort of amazement. It captures the beauty of a starry night impeccably, but the technique gives it a completely fresh feel. It is as if I am looking up at the horizon on my own for the very first time again, amazed by the vastness of the world.” 

You smiled. “That is very kind of you to say, sir. You’ve quite an eye, sir—and certainly a way with words.” 

Benedict shrugged. “It is very simple with a piece such as this. I could wax poetic all day, Miss…” He trailed off, and his gaze fell back to you. “I apologize, my lady. You have me at a disadvantage.” 

That coy smile remained on your lips. “Miss Tilbury. And you are Benedict Bridgerton, yes?” 

He nodded, and he couldn’t help the slightly nervous laugh that came along with being in your presence. “I am embarrassed. You knew my name, but I didn’t know yours. You must forgive me.” 

“Oh, it is of no matter,” you said, brushing your hand through the air. “You already know more about me than most.” 

His eyebrows rose, and when his mouth opened, he found himself at a loss for words. It took a moment to compose himself—it was awfully difficult to think with those pretty eyes focusing so intently on him. 

“Pardon me for asking, but are you new to these exhibits?” 

Your eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?” 

“I’ve not yet seen you around here,” he said. “And I am sure I would remember a face such as yours.”

“No,” you said, and your smile widened. “No, I frequent these sorts of exhibits. I’ve seen you before—I just must not have caught your eye.” 

“Oh, I think that impossible,” Benedict insisted. “Not only are you quite beautiful, my lady, you’ve also a sharp mind and a quick wit. Those are three things I can never ignore.” 

At that, you fully grinned, and he felt a smile of his own form. He’d only just met you and yet he felt this innate need to bring you joy. Perhaps it was a good thing you’d only just now met, for he could easily imagine thoughts of you consuming his every waking hour. 

“And you are quite the charmer, Mister Bridgerton,” you said. “Are you always this forward with women you just met?” 

“Only ones such as yourself,” he assured. “It is a delight to be able to discuss art with a twin flame.” 

“A twin flame?” 

“Someone who sees things the way I do,” Benedict said. “I tried to have a conversation about this piece with a man just before you, but he did not seem to understand it the way I did. You are refreshing, Miss Tilbury.” 

“Ah,” you said, and you nodded sagely. “Well, I may have just a bit more insight into this piece than that man did. I am the one who painted it, after all.” 

Benedict blinked. The words didn’t fully register in his mind. “What?” 

“I am the artist of this piece,” you said, gesturing at the painting they stood in front of. “I’m certainly flattered to know you enjoy it.” 

Benedict blinked again, and he felt heat spread across his whole face. He could not find any words in him for a strikingly long moment. 

“You can see my signature in the bottom right corner,” you continued. “My initials, of course. I paint under a pseudonym, for though those who run these exhibitions are more progressive than most, it can still be difficult as a woman to get our art displayed.” 

“I— I apologize, my lady,” Benedict finally managed to stammer. 

You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him. “For what?” 

“For not knowing your name,” he rushed, “and insinuating that you were a newcomer, and acting as if I know more about your own art than you do.” 

You laughed, and Benedict once again found himself smiling at it. It felt like fresh snowfall—you were indeed refreshing. 

“You need not apologize, Mister Bridgerton,” you assured. “I do not lie—it is indeed flattering to know you see my art in such a light. I have seen some of your own pieces, and you are talented.” 

“I do not always feel it,” he mumbled. “More often than not, I can only see the flaws in my work. You have a rare quality indeed, my lady—you are able to compliment yourself.” 

“I do not believe in the need for self-deprecation in the artistic world,” you mused. “I am proud of this piece, so why would I not compliment it? I already have enough men trying to scorn me each day—I see no reason to contribute to the fire with my own words.”  

“And there is no reason for you to!” Benedict exclaimed. “Miss Tilbury, you’ve a way with a brush that very few do—at least with what I’ve seen. I— I consider it an honor to even be standing in your presence, if I am honest. Have you any other works I can see?” 

You smiled. “I do, but none of them are available in a manner such as this. I hope to display more soon.” 

“As do I,” Benedict said, nodding rapidly. “Mayfair should consider itself lucky to be graced by such fine artistry.” 

“And I consider myself lucky to get compliments from a man such as yourself.” Your smile turned slightly coy. “I could offer you some tips, of course. Since you were such a fan of my artwork.” 

Benedict could only stare at you for a moment. He did not know whether your words held more or not, but he realized he was alright with either—or both, if he found himself lucky enough. 

“I would love to, Miss Tilbury.” 

“I see no need for formalities.” You said your first name, your eyes sparkling. “We are twin flames, after all. Yes?” 

Benedict’s throat bobbed, but he could not help his grin. “Yes.” 

[d1xonss]

The olive theory

If one person in a relationship likes olives, the other shouldn’t, signifying that opposites attract best.

Daryl had never been one to believe fate or anything of that sort when you had first met him. After all, he was very set in his ways. He wasn’t the kind of man to trust in destiny or certain events happening in the right place at the right time. From his stubborn mindset, he believed things just sort of…happened. Not because it was necessarily meant to be, but because of the free will that everyone possessed.

And he had certainly never heard of this so called theory until you had brought it up to him randomly, catching him completely off guard.

“Do you want my tomato?” you asked, holding it out for him to take as you had previously taken it out of your burger.

He paused mid chew, raising an eyebrow at your offer before shrugging his shoulders. “Alright, give it here.”

You smiled as you carefully handed it over, watching for a moment as he ate it effortlessly, knowing that you on the other hand couldn’t eat the fruit without gagging. The thought then caused a lightbulb to appear on top of your head.

“Hey…have you ever heard that theory that if one person likes a food and the other can’t stand it, it means you’re compatible?”

The burley man again stopped eating as he heard your question. Looking at you as if you claimed the sky was purple. “Huh?”

You laughed softly, “You know, like with tomatos,” you used as an example, “I don’t like them, but you do, so you can always have mine so they won’t go to waste.” you spoke with a smile before quickly taking another bite.

Daryl huffed at your statement, “What kinda dumbass theory is that?” he said without thinking, “Ya mean to tell me we’re soulmates or somethin just because we got different opinions on a burger toppin?”

Your face dropped upon hearing his somewhat careless words. You knew it was a dumb theory, one that may not even be true. But still, it meant something to you knowing that the two of you could be connected in more ways than one.

“I don’t know…” you mumbled with a shrug, wishing you hadn’t even brought it up.

Immediately he felt terrible for how he reacted.

Seeing you so hopeful about it, it obviously brought you some kind of joy, one that he instantly seemed to squash. Just because he may not believe in something so small such as that, didn’t mean that you couldn’t. The sight of you just staring at your food a bit sadly tugged at his heartstrings. He racked his brain for a moment as he wanted to make it up to you, wanted you to know that he didn’t mean it like that at all. When suddenly, he had an idea.

You bit the inside of your cheek as the silence grew thicker, unknown to the things going on in his head. That is until you felt a gentle nudge on your shoulder, looking over to see Daryl handing out a pickle that he had picked off his own burger.

Your soft gaze glanced back and forth between his face and his hand, hearing him clear his throat, “…Ya like pickles, right?” he asked, his voice much softer than before.

You nodded slowly, “…Do you?”

He shook his head, “Nah…never really saw the appeal.” he admitted almost sheepishly, hoping you’d see what he was trying to say.

A slow smile was brought to your face when you heard his small confession, gently taking the pickle from him before popping it in your mouth.

His chest filled with a certain warmth upon seeing your smile light up your face, silently knowing he’d do just about anything to see it happen again and again.

“So…that mean we’re compatible?” he asked quietly, tilting his head a bit.

“Mhm…looks like it.” you said with a knowing glance.

AN ~ Hii<3 This is definitely a very random little headcanon, but once I thought of it, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I figured it was very cute and accurate to how Daryl would react to the beloved olive theory.

Also sorry for disappearing for a hot minute, I haven’t had much motivation to write recently, but i’m back:) And for those of you who read my series, the next chapter will be out tomorrow, promise<3 xoxox

[matrixbearer2024]

Cruel

[Mr Bill Pines AU: Bill Cipher-Pines x Clifford(Stanford Reincarnation)]

Bill misses his husband and he can’t decide at the moment if this was Karma or just another mistake he’d walked into. Fate could be very kind, but it could also be a very cruel thing.

Inspired by a comic from @honeqq and I decided why not write something related to it! I need to write more stuff for them PLEASE-

Bill had to steel himself once more at the familiar chime summoning him again. He already knew who it was and had a few theories about the reason behind it. The real problem was that he didn’t know if he could take it anymore; each moment felt like a deep cut, with wounds left to fester as his heart battled his mind, tearing apart any semblance of sanity.

He had to mentally prepare himself for every encounter with the lookalike of his deceased husband, the imitation of a man to whom he had once given everything. Just being there was painful—the same voice, the same face, the similar mutation…

But he wasn’t the same man.

Taking a deep breath, Bill stepped in front of the impatient artist, who regarded him with mild annoyance. The artist was blissfully unaware of the constant struggle the god faced just to maintain a decent appearance. For some reason, Bill didn’t dare to explain this to him; it made it easier… sort of.

“Oh, finally. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

Bill mused that someone must be pulling a sadistic prank, repeatedly putting him in this situation where every waking moment threatened to unleash the flood of emotions and grief once more. This man wasn’t the genius he had once loved. This guy wasn’t Sixer, no matter how similar they looked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d call you ‘lucky’ number seven, but you’ve just been annoying. Of all the cosmic beings to seek guidance from, you’d think you’d pick one that hasn’t faded into obscurity.”

“You were the muse for this journal’s author, so I thought you’d be able to help me in some way, somehow. I think.”

At the mention of the journal, Bill wanted to shrivel up and die. It was the only one he hadn’t had a hand in writing. The others he had co-authored with his husband, but this one… this one had eluded him for so long, only to be found by… this guy.

He wanted to bash his skull in and scream.

Stanford was gone; that pill had been hard enough to swallow a thousand years ago. Fate just had to rub salt into that open wound. This whole situation was cruel.

“What’s the problem this time?”

“I can’t decide what I want to paint.”

The empty canvas the other man gestured to seemed to beckon him, the stark white void drawing him in and holding him in a vice grip. The triangle stared blankly at the vacant space; an idea flickered to life in his mind, but he hesitated to indulge it. What if he did? It would only unleash another wave of grief, a haunting reminder of what once was and what he had lost to the relentless claws of time and the cold hands of death.

Bill already knew this was going to be idiotic. He felt it in his bones—he was about to make yet another stupidly ridiculous choice. Yet, before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. Regret settled in immediately after he spoke.

“How about this? What if you painted someone for me? A portrait.”

The reincarnation regarded him with curiosity and interest, and Bill felt an overwhelming urge to gouge out his lone eye at the sight. Don’t look at him like that. Don’t give him the same expression that once held so much love and adoration, the kind that had nearly drowned him. Don’t remind him of those memories. Don’t drive the knife in deeper.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

That was the amusement that haunted him: the ghost of a man he had once loved to his own detriment. Someone whose smile caused the edges of his eyes to crinkle with unbridled joy, someone whose gaze never wavered in love and adoration. It was a ticking time bomb to have chosen and loved a mortal; inevitable goodbyes lurked around every corner of his finite life. There was no telling how much time they had left together, yet Bill still felt like Stanford was taken from him far too soon.

What he would have given for just a little more time—one last kiss, one final “I love you.”

He was a god, yet he would have surrendered absolutely everything for just another moment with the man he once called a husband. His equal. His muse.

Bill had to turn away from the other man, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly blinked them back; after a thousand years, the grief was still overwhelming. It felt like just yesterday he had been in the arms of his lover, and now that love and comfort were nowhere to be found. The ache in his heart throbbed and pounded, emotions turning him soft. What a useless god he’d become. What was once a pleasant feeling had morphed into crippling sorrow.

“If you don’t mind me asking, though… who is it that you want me to paint?”

That was a loaded question, burdened by the lament and grief of a thousand years—a love lost to the hands of time and the embrace of death. The one plane of existence where Bill couldn’t follow. Not as he was. Not when he didn’t have the ability to die. The sickness of an immortal, truly.

“Someone important to me. My muse.”

“You have a muse? Wow. They must be someone incredible.”

Bill could only let out an empty laugh. Stanford was incredible—more than he could ever dare to articulate. Words simply wouldn’t do the man justice; to have a god fall to his knees out of love was an immeasurable feat. The triangle always believed his lover was a force to be reckoned with, a powerhouse and then some. Yet, the relentless sands of time eventually wore him down. Even Stanford's brilliant mind, which had endured so much, couldn’t escape the inevitable; the grim reaper came to collect his dues.

No mortal was spared from that fate.

“Yeah. He was .”

The pain that bled through the triangle’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by the artist, despite his attempts to conceal it. However, the artist chose not to mention it, believing it was best not to pry. After all, it wasn’t his place to interfere; why would he?

Bill cleared his throat and floated up to get a better look at the empty canvas. Every instruction was clear and concise, every requested stroke of the brush executed with intention and purpose. The triangle’s close guidance and precise descriptions of each detail left no room for error; there were simply no mistakes.

As the painting began to take shape, colors and pigments blended seamlessly, crafting an image clearer than crystal. Gradually, the likeness of a man emerged—one with silver hair and a gentle gaze, complemented by a smile that reached his eyes, eyes that radiated immense love and adoration. It was evident that the painting captured an intensely intimate moment; such an expression was not meant for just anyone. Only someone so deeply loved and cherished could inspire a face like that. Only someone who felt eternally young could carry the weight of age with the wonder and joy of a child. The painting became a living juxtaposition.

The artist dropped his paintbrush in surprise; the painting looked so… alive. Under Bill’s guidance, this project had transformed into one of his best works. He couldn't help but wonder if its resemblance to a self-portrait was purely coincidental—an unnerving mirror he had created hour after hour, stroke after stroke, with immense specificity from the triangle beside him. However, the longing gaze from Bill toward the smiling subject made things clear. That action alone spoke more truth than any words they had ever exchanged. Yet, despite the painstaking effort poured into this piece, his eyes were inevitably drawn back to the final product.

It felt… familiar somehow, as if he knew this man, perhaps having met him somewhere before, despite the artist's certainty that he never had.

What was this sense of déjà vu?

The painting was beautifully crafted, distinctly unreplicable, particularly within the eyes of this man, which overflowed with mirth and fondness that clearly belonged to a lover. The expression he wore embodied the true essence of being loved, the purest depiction of happiness.

How had Bill even known about this? Not to mention in such explicit detail…

“Bill—”

“You have your painting, I need some time to think.”

The triangle’s voice trembled with overwhelming emotion, cracking under the weight of his grief. He couldn’t bear to look at the painting any longer. He turned away, unable to face either the finished work or the living, breathing human who looked so painfully similar to the man immortalised in the portrait. Every glance at the painting drove the knife in his chest deeper.

He had been right—this was a stupid idea.

“Just summon me again when you need me,” 

Bill muttered, his voice barely holding together. And with that, the god vanished before the artist could even respond.

Back in his original resting place, hot tears spilled from his lone eye as the grief he’d kept buried for so long finally poured out. The triangle broke down into uncontrollable sobs, curling up against a nearby wall, shivering as anguish consumed him. An agonised scream tore from his chest, shaking the very room. It was a miracle he had managed to stay composed for as long as he had.

Maybe he had wanted to see Stanford again—wanted to remember a happier time, to recall a memory frozen in place. The face of his husband, the man he had loved so deeply. But that love was now buried beneath a thousand years of pain and loss, an ache that had festered beyond measure.

Bill Cipher couldn’t move. He stayed there, weeping through the day, letting the weight of eternity crush him.

If he was truly fated to cross paths with that reincarnation, there was only one truth left.

Fate was just so cruel.

Fic is here as well on Ao3!

[luxurychristmaspudding]

You and I | On Call

part iv

summary: frankie has one last question.

pairing: neighbour!frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. fluff, drinking. praise kink. the boys (minus tom). SMUT! fingering, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected p in v. cum kink? creampie. frankie retains the title of pek 👑

reader is a teacher, has hair, and can be lifted by frankie (he's a big strong boy, don't worry about it) but she is otherwise a blank slate.

wc: 10.8k

an: well, here we are gang. thank you for joining me and for all your sweet words. i've been so awful with reblogging your kindness on this little thing because of how busy i was when i wrote most of it, but i want you to know i appreciate it so much. i've loved sharing these two with you - it's been a privilege <3

shoutout to @jolapeno for helping me with the chapter name, and for very gently reminding me that 20k chapters probably should be split 😉 love you <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

series masterlist | main masterlist

When he wakes, it’s well past twelve. 

Nine hours which he imagines he probably needed, but really it puts him two hours behind.

He showers and dresses in a rush, running out the door to his truck, but still taking the time to register that your curtains have remained closed. It makes him smile, knowing you’re likely still tucked up in bed, your stories about the night before resting before they make their way to him.

He practically sprints around the supermarket, grabbing anything that even vaguely crosses his mind as something he might need. Meat, bread, salads of sorts, sauces, soft drinks, beers. He picks up your favourite dessert just in case, and then hauls the bags back to the truck, keeping a nervous eye on the time as his fingers tap against the steering wheel. 

Will and Benny are already there when he gets home. Grinning, leaning against Will’s car as he pulls into the driveway.

There’s a sharp pull of joy in his chest even as Will laughs out a ‘You’re late, Fish’, pounding his back as he pulls him into a hug.

‘Can’t be late to my own fuckin’ house.’ He grumbles back, pulling Benny in in the same way.

‘Can, and you are.’ The younger man laughs. 

‘Thought you might be out with your lady.’ Will teases, and Frankie flushes right to the tips of his ears. 

‘She’s still asleep.’ He says without thinking, a smile pulling at his lips. It’s comical, really, the way the two men freeze and look at each other. ‘Help me with these bags, will you?’

The brothers remain unmoving, staring at him with some degree of bewilderment.

‘Still asleep?’

Frankie sighs, a little exasperated.

‘Yeah. She was out last night.’

Will’s eyes wander to Frankie’s bedroom window just as Benny’s mouth begins to form a question. The realisation dawns quickly.

‘Not in my bed,’ he scowls, ‘Next door.’

‘Oh.’

He turns his back on them, heading to his front door, arms laden with groceries. A nervous, giddy feeling swirls in his stomach.

‘Had us going for a minute there, Fish.’ Will calls after him. Frankie bites his lip against the memories of you in your living room, the desperate kisses you’ve shared since. He feels like a teenager, on the verge of spilling secrets like he’s at a sleepover.

He hums instead, flicking a glance over his shoulder to see Benny grab more stuff from the back of the truck. He grunts and grimaces under the weight, shooting a look at Frankie.

‘What do you have in here? Are we feeding the five thousand?’

Will laughs, loading his own hands with bags, tutting at his little brother.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be the athlete here?’

Benny drops one bag just to give him the finger.

‘This is my rest day, motherfucker.’ 

He groans again as he picks the bag back up, Frankie laughing along with Will.

‘Lift with your knees, not with your back!’ He shouts.

‘Quit telling me what to do, asshole!’ Benny hollers, the older men still chuckling as he shoulders the front door open. 

Santiago arrives not too long after, setting up the last of the food - the salads out on the table, more beers in the fridge. They’ve all clocked Frankie checking his watch, checking his phone, your text that you’d be over in the next five minutes burning a fucking hole in his pocket.

He’s nervous. And they can tell.

He has the distinct impression he’s being cornered when they all turn to look at him at the same time as he fiddles with the burner on the grill. It feels ridiculous - this desire for everything to be perfect. You’ve seen him in all of his less-than-perfect moments, have never shied away. But this - today - feels different.

Pope leads the offence.

‘How’s your girl then, Fish?’

Frankie’s heart drops low in his chest before thumping hard behind his ribs, a hand coming up to try and wipe the sudden smile from his lips. He tries a gruff tone, failing miserably as soon as he speaks.

‘She’s not my girl.’

Will whistles lowly, smirking.

‘Still? We gonna have to smush you together like Barbies?’

Benny snorts, and Frankie shoots him a look which immediately makes him straighten and soften.

‘We won’t. They won’t. Scout’s honour.’

Santi takes a pull from his beer, a glint in his eye.

‘No progress at all?’ He probes.

Frankie takes a deep breath, eyes lowered to the floor before finding the deep brown of his best friend.

‘We’re… seeing each other.’ He murmurs, this time unable to hide his smile, hand scratching at the back of his head.

Silence. Quiet that puts Frankie even more on edge as he watches his friends exchange looks, as a slow smile tilts the corners of Benny’s lips.

‘Well - that’s an improvement.’ Will grins.

‘A marked improvement.’ Santi agrees.

‘So you told her how you feel?’ Benny asks, eyebrows raised.

Frankie sucks air through his teeth, clears his throat. His face grows warm, fingers twitch a little.

‘Not quite -’

Will barks a laugh. 

‘Morales, you dog.’ Followed by the deep rumbles of amusement from the other two men.

‘Oh, the tried and true manoeuvre - the Catfish Canoodle.’ Benny snickers.

‘The Morales Marathon.’ Will adds, tilting his bottle to him. Pope is next, grinning lasciviously.

‘The good old Five Finger Fish Fu-’

‘Frankie?’ You call from inside the kitchen, ‘I have beers, but there’s no room in the fridge -’

You pop your head round the backdoor, beaming immediately when you catch sight of the men in the garden.

‘Oh! Hi,’ you say brightly, emerging fully. Frankie’s heart stutters. You’re wearing that sundress he remembers - hasn’t been able to forget - from when he mowed your lawn weeks ago. Gorgeous, the way it drapes over your curves, the way it lets your skin glisten in the afternoon light. He feels his shoulders drop, his whole body relax. Feels the way he goes a little weak at the knees, knows he’ll be looking lovesick in front of the boys. And he doesn’t care.

‘Sorry I’m a little late,’ you say, hopping down the porch steps towards them, ‘I wish I had a good excuse, but I just - don’t.’ 

Benny laughs, moving with Will and Santi to greet you. Frankie just about catches the look Santiago throws him, a sweet holy shit, brother.

‘Ah, the elusive neighbour. We were starting to think he’d made you up.’ Pope says, matching your smile. You giggle, arms outstretched as he reaches you.

‘Funny,’ you smirk, ‘I was thinking of not turning up just to prove you right.’

He laughs as he releases you, Benny sweeping you into his arms and planting a kiss on your cheek.

‘Even more beautiful than he said you were,’ he says, and Frankie watches your eyebrows shoot up as you fix him with an oh, really? look. His heart drops to his stomach, neck grinding in an effort to shake his head before a shit-eating grin splits across your face. 

‘I had no idea he was so - complimentary - behind my back.’ You laugh against Will’s shoulder as he spins you around.

‘Oh, he is,’ he chuckles, placing you gently down with your back to Frankie. Frankie glowers at him half-heartedly as Will winks back, and the dark-haired man raises a finger, mouthing at him to shut - the fuck - up. ‘Feels like we’ve known you for ages.’ Will continues.

You turn, planting your hands on your hips, cocking your head at Frankie.

‘Just can’t stop talking about me, huh, Fish?’ You tease, and Frankie huffs as he pulls you in for a lingering hug, wondering if it’s too much to kiss you in front of his friends.

‘Guess not.’ He whispers into your ear.

You’re biting your lip as you pull away from him, hands lingering on his shoulders as his stall on your waist.

Will clears his throat. 

‘You gonna introduce us then, Morales?’

Frankie rolls his eyes at him as he turns you around, hands at your hips, pointing a finger at each friend.

‘William Miller,’ he says, as Will pulls a face - just Will is fine - ‘Benjamin Miller,’ - Benny, please - ‘And Santiago Garcia.’

‘I’m only Santiago when I’m in trouble,’ Which is most of the time, Benny laughs. ‘Santi is much better.’

You grin as you give them your name, and Will nudges your arm with his elbow.

‘I thought we were on Bug terms.’

You laugh, batting his arm.

‘You can call me Bug if you really want to.’

Benny shrugs, squinting his baby blues at you.

‘Maybe,’ he grins, ‘But your name suits you. It’s pretty. I like it.’

Frankie rolls his eyes again, squeezing your waist against the flicker of possessiveness that rises in his gut. It’s nothing more than teasing, kindness - something they’ve almost always extended to partners welcomed into the fold. But he’s not blind - they’re a handsome group, and he wants you to himself.

‘You gotta stop that,’ you giggle, ‘Before I wanna hang out with you guys all the time.’

Will throws a gentle arm around your shoulder, leaning back to wink at Frankie.

‘Hear that, Fish?’ He chuckles, ‘She’s in.’

He groans.

‘It’s not too late to back out,’ he murmurs lowly in your ear, ‘Though we’ve got a fuckton of food.’

His heart leaps as he feels your fingers reach for his, tangling briefly before squeezing. 

‘I’m stayin’,’ you promise, as Will moves around you to turn the grill on. ‘You guys put on a hell of a spread, anyway.’

From behind, Will claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, shunting the younger man forward a little.

‘That would all be Fish. Must be a special occasion.’ He smirks, and Frankie looks up to the heavens to try and stop his wish for the ground to swallow him up.

‘Sure is,’ you smile, ‘Feelin’ pretty lucky to be meeting you guys.’

‘Pleasure's all ours, kid.’ He grins.

Frankie smiles softly at you, brown eyes filled with something warm.

‘Want a drink?’ He asks.

You smack your lips, hand grabbing at your throat.

‘Please, Fish,’ you gasp, ‘I’m parched.’

The screen door has barely shut behind you before he has you backed against his kitchen counter again, stealing kisses like you’re about to get caught.

His lips are slow, sweet, hands so lazy, so indulgent in the way they hold you you’re not sure it’s really happening, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He crowds you a little closer, licking into your mouth as he fists the skirt of your dress, palming at your ass. You barely manage to catch your breath before he’s mouthing at your neck, nipping at the skin there as you huff against him. 

‘Good time last night?’ he breathes against your shoulder. You nod, eyes shut tight.

‘Yes,’ you gasp, ‘Really good time.’

‘Good,’ he murmurs, ‘I’m glad.’

You moan softly as he grips your hips, pulling you up against his thigh. There’s a thrill to it, knowing the boys are just outside. It makes your blood run hotter. Dangerously hot - no-turning-back hot.

‘Should get back outside. Before they wonder where we’ve gone.’

‘Don’t care,’ Frankie rasps, tugging at your dress again, ‘This fucking dress drives me insane.’

You nip at his bottom lip as his mouth meets yours again.

‘You’re driving me fucking insane,’ you gasp, lips tipping upwards, ‘In your kitchen, humping your leg like a dog in heat -’

He groans against you, forehead knocking against yours as he breathes heavily.

His eyes are almost black, palms warm and rough as they cradle your cheeks.

‘Once they leave,’ he whispers, ‘We’re spending a week in my bedroom. Or yours. I don’t care which.’

A whimper slips up your throat, mouth pressed hotly against his again as you start to count how many hours until it might be acceptable to drag him away. One hand slips from your cheek to your waist, inching up until he can squeeze at your breast, running a thumb over your nipple. You shudder, whole body ignited. 

‘Fuck.’ He breathes.

‘Frankie -’

‘Hey! Lover boy,’ Pope whistles from behind the screen door. You leap apart at the sound of his footsteps on the porch. ‘Hope you’re decent in there, I’m coming in -’

Santi appears, grinning widely as he pushes his way into the kitchen. He shields the side of his face facing you with a hand. ‘I’m not looking,’ he says, ‘But we’re gonna get grilling.’

‘We’re not naked, Pope.’ Frankie says, bemused. You giggle as Santi drops his hand.

‘Thank God,’ he sighs, before fixing you with a look, ‘I’ve seen enough of this man’s ass to last me a lifetime.’

He’d hoped it would be easy, knew that they’d love you. But he’s never seen these three men take to someone the way they have you.

He smiles as you stand with Will at the grill, watches the brotherly affection develop in real time. The soft smack of your palm against the older man’s shoulder, snorts of laughter, whispered jokes and more serious stories swapped. Frankie relaxes into it more and more, gazing at you over Benny’s shoulder. 

When he brings more food over to cook, Will stays stood by his side as you take his place with Benny and Santiago. The three of you huddled around the crackling firepit, hooting with laughter. He catches his own name a few times, turns to find you watching him with shining eyes as Pope and the younger Miller brother no doubt regale you with embarrassing stories from his youth. Things he hasn’t thought to tell you, things he may well have forgotten. And you fill a chair so easily, so effortlessly, it’s like you’ve always been there.

Clinks of cheersing bottles, conspiratorial shoulder bumps, lowered heads and loud exclamations and giggles. He feels like he’s in a fucking coming of age movie.

‘She’s a keeper, brother,’ Will murmurs to him over the lip of his beer bottle. He turns to him, a little surprised, but Will looks so at ease, so content with his little smile, that he knows there’s no bullshit there. ‘Fuckin’ funny. And smart as hell.’

Frankie hums, busying himself with flipping a burger. His hands are a little shaky - even after everything that’s happened over the last week, there’s still something that’s keeping him unsteady. The rock of a world turned on its axis, the deep want of willing this to work - because he loves you. So fucking much.

‘Don’t go all shy on me now, Fish.’ Will says, turning with him so his back is to you.

‘’M not.’ Frankie says, softly. Will sucks a breath through his teeth, squinting up at the sun just over the roofline of your house.

‘Do you remember what I was like when I first met Charlotte?’

Frankie looks at him - the beard, the hair pulled back, the clear blue of his eyes. He nods.

‘And the way you wound me up? How I was always looking for her, always checking for her? And at the end of the night, you asked when I was buying the ring?’

Frankie chuckles at the memory, the comment made stood at the bar with his best friend, manifesting the future he’d have. The ring that now sits on Charlotte’s finger, the wedding planned for the end of the year.

‘I do.’

Will looks back at him, teeth exposed with his smile. Teasing, full of humour, but it’s genuine, not goading.

‘When are you buying the ring, Frankie?’

Blood rushes to his head so fast he feels dizzy, so fast he has to put the tongs down. He scoffs, the way it sounds out loud so outlandish, but something pierces deep through his chest at how clearly Will sees through him.

Because he’s thought about it.

He shakes his head, swallowing roughly. There’s nothing he can say. Anything like not even my girlfriend yet would sound like a denial. But admitting it, that secret thought, even to Will, feels insane.

He’s still grinning at him.

‘I know it when I see it, Fish,’ Will continues, ‘And I know what you’re thinking.’ He pauses, shrugs. ‘Bring her to the wedding. She might catch the bouquet.’ 

He can’t move. Can’t turn to look at you, he’s sure his cheeks are burning so brightly. Can’t even twist his head when Benny calls,

‘Are you done grilling over there? We’re starving.’

He can’t stop thinking about it. Can't stop his whirring brain as the five of you eat, passing sauces and salads. Can’t stop thinking about a future, a life with you as you sit across the table from him, meeting his eye, chatting, laughing. Can’t stop the thoughts from ploughing through him as your foot catches his under the table, can hardly swallow his burger against the words lumping in his throat. Can’t stop the pounding of his heart when he catches you gazing at him halfway through a story, chin cupped in your hand, looking at him like he hung the moon and stars - can’t stop wondering whether you’ve ever pictured the same. 

He’s barely snapped out of it when the plates are stacked and carried through to the kitchen, bits of salad and smudges of sauce halfway cleared up before you pile outside again, Will and Santi jostling over the chair free from the smoke of the firepit. You walk with him and Benny, the younger man listening to you talk with such interest, such fondness already, that Frankie wonders whether he’s too young to have a heart attack. 

He’s only pulled from the conversation by the crack of broken furniture, the three of you stopping short and quiet as Will wheezes, sprawled on the ground atop the remnants of the coveted chair. He holds a hand up in the air, craning his neck at Frankie.

‘His fault,’ he croaks, pointing at Santi, who holds his palms up in surrender. 

‘Not my fault that he’s so heavy.’

You trap a giggle between your teeth and bottom lip as Frankie and Benny start to laugh, Will scrambling to his feet with the help of Frankie’s outstretched hand. 

‘Santiago.’ Benny snickers, and your bright eyes find Frankie’s.

‘Well. Now you are in trouble.’

Frankie grins, fixing Santi with a faux stern look.

‘In so much trouble you’re gonna have to sit on the floor.’ He chuckles, and Pope pouts.

‘My knees will never recover, Fish, and you know that.’

He shrugs, settling into a chair at the same time as Benny and Will. You stay standing, warring silently with yourself before you gesture to the empty seat for Santi to take. 

‘It’s yours,’ you smile, nervous as you turn to Frankie. ‘Is this seat taken?’ You ask, looking pointedly at his lap.

His eyes blow wide for a second, breath caught in his chest. Unsure, for a moment, of your meaning, ready to give the chair up for you. You raise an eyebrow, palm lowering gently onto his shoulder.

‘No.’ He rasps, blissfully unaware of Will’s smirk.

‘Good.’ You say, lowering yourself onto his thighs, an arm around his shoulders, his around your back, hand at your hip. He swings your legs over his without thinking, and you settle, limbs tense at first, before shuffling a little to get comfortable.

To their credit, the boys don’t make it a thing. They continue the conversation as normal as the two of you join in, wrapped up together, crowing with laughter as your bodies vibrate against each other. 

You hold each other closer as the evening wears on. Head resting against his chest, nuzzled against the fabric of his t-shirt. Laundry detergent, light scent of cologne, the warmth of his skin. His hands are broad and calloused where they cradle you, so easily - never a limb falling slack, never goosebumps that go unsoothed. He rubs his thumb against your thigh in soft semi-circles, leans his cheek against the top of your head, breathing in your shampoo. 

Lets himself be warmed by the pressure of your body against his, willfully ignores his cock when it twitches hopefully as you shift. Which is hard, as you begin to shift more and more the later it gets, the hotter you burn above him. And as hard as you try, you just can’t keep still. Can’t stop trying to find relief for the ache in your core, the wetness pooling in your underwear. 

He finally grips your hips against a particularly wicked wriggle, head dipping to growl in your ear.

‘Stop, baby. Please.’ And it works for a moment - only a moment - as you’re frozen by the flashbacks of him unravelling beneath you eight days ago. Eight days too long.

As though he’s read the shift in atmosphere, Will stands and stretches.

‘I’m heading in,’ he says, rolling his head on his shoulders. ‘The spare room calls.’

You stand, reluctantly, and Frankie is quick to readjust himself as inconspicuously as possible. Will gives you a sweeping hug, kissing just before your ear as you say a muffled see you tomorrow into his shoulder. Frankie takes his outstretched hand, pulling him into a back-clapping embrace of sorts, and when he pulls away he’s surprised to see Benny and Pope also bidding you goodnight. He checks his watch. 

It’s not even eleven.

His eyes twitch from you to the boys as he works out whether you’re heading back to yours, too.

Santi catches the look, slapping a hand onto his shoulder as he whispers a do not come back into this house, pendejo. He looks over your shoulder at Benny as Will makes you giggle again, and is met with the firm waggle of a finger.

Stay, he mouths.

Fuck you, Frankie mouths back, watching their backs retreat into his house. 

The backyard falls quiet, only the snap of logs in the fire, the buzzing of insects, and the rush of blood in his ears to be heard.

You turn, facing him in the dark, half your face lit by the dying embers of the fire pit. 

‘Are you - are you tired?’ He asks softly, afraid of disturbing the hushed moment.

‘No,’ you whisper, ‘Are you?’

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly.

‘No.’

You nod, gentle smile pulling at your lips.

‘Good.’

You step towards him, slowly, like something out of a dream. Glowing in the low light, sparkling with something divine.

You cup his cheeks with both hands, press your body in a firm line against his, hoping to convey exactly what you mean through the touch. Affection, of course, love, adoration - everything you’ve been planning on giving him over the last week, but now, more pressingly - want. Pure, unadulterated want. 

You tip your head to slant your mouth against his, hot, heavy, teeth clashing at the initial meeting, breath mingling, tongues licking into each others’ mouths. You tug at the back of his neck, hand buried in the soft curls there, yanking his head back a little to open his mouth up to you. You let go. Lips suckling at his tongue, teeth nibbling at the pillow of his lower lip. Further. Pecking at the scruff of his jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Nipping, raising red on his skin, before soothing it with a tortuously slow lick of your tongue.

Your breathing is so heavy, hands so feverish, you lose the sense of where you end and he begins. Feel fingers scrabbling for purchase, bruising grips, on you and him. One scorching palm runs the length of your dress down to the top of your thigh, grabbing at the flesh there. You shift your stance, moaning into his mouth, finding that hand with your own, moving it closer to that burning place between your legs. Frankie follows your lead.

You press his hand up, and his knuckles graze along the sodden fabric of your panties, lips falling away from his as you whine and he groans. You’re soaked, wetter still as he runs the length of his fingers up and down the material clinging to your pussy, feeling the bite of your teeth as you try to muffle yourself against his collarbone. 

He shushes you, coos at you, pressing a particularly firm stroke against your cunt that makes your legs shake as he asks you -

‘You gonna let me feel it, baby?’

You gasp against his mouth, nodding feverishly. He chuckles, slowing the pace of his kiss so he can really focus on how soft, how warm and wet you are as he pulls your panties to the side with deft fingers, slicking them up before swirling them around your clit. A stuttered breath escapes you, cutting off into a loud, unabashed moan as he slowly, slowly fucks his fingers into you. He sinks right down to the bottom knuckle, kisses forgotten as he breathes raggedly against your cheek, feeling you clench and whimper around him. He curls them slightly, and your knees practically buckle, stomach contracting, hands grasping at his shirt.

‘Frankie,’ you plead, almost losing your train of thought as he plants a kiss just behind your ear. ‘Take me to bed.’

He pumps his fingers, once, runs his thumb softly over your clit before withdrawing them altogether, mouth slanted firmly against yours, stifling your whine. You stumble a little, pulling at the collar of his shirt for him to move with you before pausing briefly, watching as he brings his fingers to his lips. He slips them deep inside, groaning around them, eyelids fluttering as he takes in the taste of you. Your breathing is heavy as he slips them from his mouth, offering them to you. You take them willingly, bobbing your head to feel how thick and heavy his fingers are on your tongue, the taste of your slick diluted with his spit making your mouth water. He stares as you flick the muscle between and around his digits, brow furrowed, eyes dark, before he retracts them. You frown at him, and he licks into your mouth with such ferocity you’re quick to forget your disappointment. 

‘Yours. Now.’ He murmurs, and then you’re grinning, running. Sprinting over his lawn, hopping the fence on unsteady legs, striding towards your porch. You slam up the steps, glancing behind you only once to watch him follow you. Giddy with want, warm all over, soaking wet, you can't help but look for him.

For the first time since you moved next door, Frankie willingly hops the fence. 

He catches up to you before you can get the front door open, clutching your hip, turning the handle with the other. He backs you into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind him, shoes toed off blindly. There’s no reprieve from his lips, no other thought than his hands on your body, guiding you into your living room, hips bumping into furniture, deaf to the clatter of objects falling - not a single fuck given over what - one hand - whose, you’re not sure - flying out to flick a lamp on before he’s crushing you against the sofa. 

Calves to the furniture, you fall, and he follows you - two hands braced either side of your head before returning to their homes on your cheek, your waist, your breasts. Palming at the flesh there, kneading, thumbing over your nipples. You’re gasping, rolling your hips in hopes you’ll catch against something, because he’s everywhere, only to come up empty every time. He lowers both hands, tongue running strongly against yours. One shifts your hips, the other pressing against your panties again.

‘Let me taste you,’ he groans, voice hoarse, ‘Please, baby. I have to - let me taste you.’

You nod fiercely, tugging on his curls again, mumbling a fuck, Frankie, yes, before he pulls away. His lips are spit-slick, swollen, cheeks flushed. Breathing haggard, eyes blown, curls frayed. He looks almost how he did a week ago. 

He holds your gaze for a moment, searching again, letting the question float through the air. You nod, softly, and he begins his descent. 

His lips are wet against your skin, leaving shining marks as he presses them to your clavicles, your breastbone, closing them around your covered nipples. He mouths at them, tongue dampening the fabric of your dress, warming, cooling, the fabric sticking to you in a way that makes your back arch. He works one with his fingers while his mouth is occupied, teasing them into peaks as you whimper and buck your hips beneath him. He watches you darkly, eyes heavy lidded, eyelashes almost fanned against his cheeks. And you ache. Ache so badly, so unforgivably. You can feel how wet you are - panties soaked, dampness all the way down into the cleft of your ass, smudging along the tops of your thighs. He waits until you whine again, louder, higher pitched, nails scraping in his curls, against his scalp - please Frankie, please - before he moves lower. More kisses pressed to your covered stomach, lower, lower, large hands pushing up the hem of your skirt, tracing every bit of skin they can find. He shifts on his knees to get closer as you lift your hips so he can shove your skirt all the way up, lips parting, eyebrows furrowing in a desperate look of need as he fixes his eyes to your clothed core, as you buck again at the look in his eyes, breathing heavily. His palms come together at the very tops of your thighs, thumbs brushing along the hem of your panties either side of your pussy. You huff again, hands leaving their clutch of the sofa to bury back into his curls, tugging him forwards. 

He groans, deep in his throat, easily led. Presses his nose to your clothed cunt, inhales deeply, grinds the tip just against your throbbing clit. You whimper, tugging once more, and he nuzzles your bud again, mumbling something into your heat.

‘Frankie -’ you gasp, ‘Frankie - if you don’t fuckin’ - touch me in the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna cry.’

‘I am touchin’ you,’ he growls against your hip, head tilted to look up at you. His hot breath on your skin has your flesh breaking out in goosebumps. You shake your head, frustration burning behind your eyes.

‘I want - your tongue -’ you pant, ‘Want to feel your mouth, Frankie.’

He groans, thumbs digging under the waistband of your panties to rip them down your legs, eyes never leaving your core as he reveals you - glistening, messy, wet, drooling for him. He splits his fingers into a V, spreading your lips as you keen and mewl above him.

‘You want me here?’ He rasps.

‘Yes,’ you breathe, ‘I fucking do.’

He finds it in himself to show you mercy.

The first stroke of his tongue is strong, wide. As though he’s trying to take as much of you in as possible in the first go - licking deep and long to taste your slick, tracing the dip of your hole, ending with a final swirl around your clit. Your chest shudders, eyes squeeze shut, hands tense in his hair.

‘Okay, baby?’ He asks, so soft.

You lick your lips.

‘Yeah.’

He pushes your at knees to spread your thighs wider apart.

‘Look at me.’ He says, and you crack your eyes open to watch as he manhandles your legs onto his shoulders, tilting his head as he considers, pushing them back towards your chest in order to find the best angle to eat you from. Fuck.

He’s not gentle, and he isn’t taking his time. 

The week you’ve waited, the months building up to this, do not mean you have the patience to make this last any longer than he’s already teased you for. He eats you like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything like the heaven between your legs. Long, firm strokes of his tongue, flicking at your swollen clit, watching as your head tilts forward, heavy, unable to tear your eyes from him. Chest heaving, something about the way you’re still wrapped in that fucking dress making him leak steadily in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper. He’s barely spared a thought for it so far, caught up in the way you look, the way you feel, smell, taste. He moves his grip from one of your knees to palm himself roughly, and you moan, watching him. 

Your lips part, and he knows, knows that you’re going to beg him to fuck you before the words even leave your mouth. And he will.

He just needs this first.

‘You’re gonna come in my mouth,’ he rumbles, stroking your clit with his thumb, levelling you with a dark, stern stare, ‘And then we can do anything you want. Just need to taste you like this first.’

He watches the pulse of your cunt, the gush of slick that escapes you at his words. Coos at you, so pretty, baby, before leaning back in.

Closing his lips around your pearl, sucking, flicking, tracing shapes - tracing the letters of his name against you - watching as you buck and cry and moan. You’re so fucking beautiful, leaking around him, wetting his chin, his lips, his cheeks. He can only taste you, only smell you. And it’s fucking divine.

Diving in as you bury your hands in his hair again, pulling his mouth closer, reeling in the soft plush of his lips, warm wet of his tongue, the sharp nip of his teeth against your skin. He lets you use him, lets you grind against his face, winding your hips against him. He holds his mouth open, tongue lapping where he can, mumbling against your skin. Blissed out, pussy drunk.

Yes, yes, fuck. Fuck, baby - use me. Use me, just like that. Take what you need, Bug. Taste so good, feel so fucking good.

His eyes dart from your cunt to your face - this beautiful mess you’re making, the fucked out, glassy look you watch him with. Mouth dropped open, brow scrunched in ecstasy, broken little pants and moans, cries of his name. He stretches an arm, a hand above his head, kneading at your breast, pinching your nipple, the other settling above your mound, thumb pulling back the hood of your clit. You shut your eyes quickly, your shout of fuck coming loud, a yelp.

He can taste how close you are, willing you to come with his eyes when you meet his gaze. His come, baby, is muffled, but it’s all you need. 

You break, back arching, breasts heaving, pussy fluttering and clamping around his tongue, heat blasting through your belly, a rush of bright white feeling pouring from you. Your hips freeze, jerk, twitch against him, and he closes his eyes briefly, worried that if he watches you ride the high the whole way through he’ll come in his fucking pants again. 

Your hands loosen in his hair, letting him lick and suck dazedly until he’s content. Nose pressed against you, inhaling, tasting as you whimper, thighs tightening a little around his head at the oversensitivity, and he backs away, pressing kisses to your thighs as your ragged breathing begins to ease into a more even rhythm.

He nips at your skin as you stare at him, something flooding your chest. You feel like you’re still riding that wave, feel like no one’s ever really eaten you like that, nobody’s ever really let you use them like that.

You bring a hand to his cheek, thumb tracing the glisten of you on his lips. He tilts his head into your palm, and you smile, mouth dry.

‘Where’d you learn to do that?’ You ask. It’s a dumb fucking thing to say, but you can think of nothing else that could quite explain the light-headed awe you’re feeling. He laughs, a deep rumble, real, into your thigh.

‘It’s a gift.’ He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your belly, shifting on his knees, adjusting himself. Your eyes soften, dropping to his hand.

He sees the question in your eyes again.

He leans forward, squatting, hands moving to the crease between your thighs and ass, before he stands, bringing you with him. You mouth at his neck as he stumbles to your stairs, taking them steadily, shouldering open your bedroom door through the darkness. 

He drops you where he knows the mattress, your bed will be, separating himself from you only briefly. He yanks the curtains shut as your fingers flick on a dim light - you’ll be damned if you're not watching this. 

He stops before you at the edge of the bed, between your legs. You reach out, looking up at him - sharp curve of his nose, chocolate of his curls illuminated by the light, the heat of his eyes, soft clench of his jaw, rough swallow of his throat. He reaches to stroke your hair, cupping the back of your head. You tug at the hem of his t-shirt, and he holds your hands, loosening them so he can pull it up over his head. And then he’s all golden tan, freckles. Stupidly broad shoulders, strong arms, muscle moving beneath the skin as he discards the garment on the floor. Curls of hair over his chest, down his softening stomach, down below the waistband of his jeans. The bulge straining against the denim there. You draw your hands down the lines of him, pausing only to trace the silvery mark of the scar on his abdomen. He sucks a sharp breath in at the tenderness, the intimacy, takes your fingers in his. Watches as you blink up at him, as you move to press your cheek against the heft of his cock, a kiss against his zipper. Hands making quick work of freeing him, tugging down the denim and his boxers. He steps out of them, bending only to pull his socks off, before he stills in front of you. His hard cock bobs against his stomach - you’re briefly distracted by his thighs, the delicious, smooth patches of skin where his hips meet his torso - but he is impossible to ignore. Thick, throbbing. Precum beading down the shaft, head flushed a heady, deep red, veins pulsing beneath the skin. Curved upwards, twitching beneath your gaze. You swallow thickly.

‘Holy shit.’

You don’t even realise you’d said it out loud until he laughs, a little bashful, a little proud. You look back up to him as you reach out, fingers wrapping around his base. Skin like silk, like gossamer, hot and strong. He hisses through his teeth, knees weak and hips bucking all at once. You pump once, twice, letting your breath fan over him.

‘So pretty,’ you murmur, ‘Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.’

He flushes at your words, his retort dying in his throat when you wrap your lips around him, gently taking his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue in circles, dipping into his slit, teasing the skin on the underside. He watches, breath caught in his throat, head pounding as you dip forward, hands flat against his thighs, eyes fluttering blissfully as you take him deeper. Watches as he disappears inside your mouth, as he feels nothing but warm and wet, nothing but your tight swallow, your fluid grip at his base, the vibration of your hum, the glint in your eyes as you look up -

He retracts his hips reluctantly, sliding his cock from your throat. You try to follow, whining as you shift forward, still connected through a delicate line of spit and precum, stretching thin as he pulls you back with a firm hand in your hair. He breaks it with his fingers, letting his thumb catch the dribble of it against your chin. He offers the digit, and you obediently take it in your mouth to suck the mixture off. Your eyes are still wide, pleading. He smiles softly.

‘Not gonna last like that, baby,’ he mutters. ‘Wanna feel you this time.’

You pout, words slurred in your pleasure filled haze, eyes heavy lidded as you hold his gaze.

‘Wanna watch you come every way. Wanna make you come every way. Wanna - wanna taste it, wanna feel it, want you to cover me -’

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he grits, cock throbbing painfully at your words, head spinning. He never thought he’d hear you talk like that, cock drunk on the edge of your bed, mouth all sad without his dick in it. ‘Get this off.’ he hisses, tugging again at the hem of your dress, pulling it up as you hold up your arms. It comes easy, exposing your bare pussy, soft skin of your stomach, plush flesh of your breasts. 

There's so much blood south of his brain Frankie thinks he might pass out.

He bends to kiss you, groping at your tits again, fingers swiping fleetingly between your legs to find you still soaked.

‘Perfect,’ he growls, ‘So fucking perfect.’

You whimper, backing up across your sheets. He follows, both knees dipping onto the mattress, tongue searching for yours, pecks and nips pressed to your forehead, cheeks, lips.

Your hands find purchase wherever they can, squeezing the tops of his arms, nails grazing the skin, grasping the meat of his hips, tracing the contours of his belly, squeezing and stroking his cock. A deep groan rumbles in his chest again, and he's breaking the kisses to divert and scoot back against your pillows. You crawl to him, eye contact only broken as his eyes flick over your shoulder, and he freezes, shivers. You smile wickedly, guessing at what he can see. You pause between his legs again, lowering your head to kiss at his base, cup his balls, arching your back a little more so he can really see the angle you’re exposed at in the mirror behind you.

He doesn’t know where to look. Where your mouth and hands are, teasing at his cock again, or where he can see your glistening pussy, tilted up, shining, ready. 

He’s losing his fucking mind.

He reaches over, curling his body around yours to land a firm smack against your ass. You whimper at the contact, hot pant of air against his skin, eyes glassy again as he groans, watching the flesh ripple, watching the claim he has staked begin to form. 

You move to kneel, coming face to face, your eyes wide, wanton, desperate.

‘Fuck me, Frankie,’ you whisper, pleading. ‘Please, fuck me -’

He shakes his head, kissing your temple.

‘Gotta get you ready first, bebita,’ he breathes, pulling you closer, moving your legs. ‘Come here for me, turn around. Come closer. Like this.’ He arranges you so you’re sat, cradled between his legs, your back to his front. He spreads your legs wide, hooks them with his ankles so you can’t close them. Runs his hands down your body, your eyes tracing his movements - every squeeze, every pinch, every circle he draws. 

Your breath hitches as his hands travel lower, parting your folds again, feathering over your clit. You turn your head to speak directly into his ear.

‘Don’t tease, Morales.’ You purr. He chuckles, turning to peck at your lips.

‘I won’t, princesa.’

You cry out as he sinks two fingers inside your heat, making good on his promise. Your chin dips, but his spare hand comes up to cradle it gently, angling your head so you can watch him work you in the mirror. The two of you rendered speechless for a moment - just gasps, moans, the slick sounds of your cunt in the room. His dark eyes on yours over your shoulder, in the glass. The firm press, scissor, pulse, of his fingers inside you.

The silence is only broken by a ragged moan from you as he presses against that delicious, spongy spot tucked away inside you, and he chuckles in response.

‘Look at you, baby,’ he breathes in your ear, ‘So pretty. Been thinking about you like this all week.’

You moan as he curls his fingers at a particularly delicious angle, pressing the meat of his palm against your clit. Your hand closes around his wrist, keeping him there, pulling him away - a mix of both. The feel of him is too wonderful to be rid of, too much to take.

‘Longest fuckin’ week of my life.’ He growls, biting at your earlobe, flicking his wrist faster again, drawing a desperate cry from your lips. A pressure building, your pussy obscene in the quiet, so fucking wet, and you can hear Frankie thinking it, marvelling at how your body responds, how you leak and clench and writhe in his grip. 

There’s that pressure building again, your breath heaving in your lungs, cunt getting slicker, tighter. Frankie coos in your ear, his other arm still banded around your middle. You hiccup, moan, arch your back against him. 

‘Fuck,’ you murmur, ‘Fuck, close.’

He hums, tracing his nose along the fine skin of your neck.

‘Yeah?’ He says, voice cracking a little. ‘S’that good? Tell me. Tell me it’s good, baby.’

You whine again, thrashing your head against his shoulder, driving your hips down onto his fingers, pleading for more.

‘So good,’ you moan, ‘So fucking good, Frankie. You have no idea.’

You can feel him rutting against you - slowly - all velvet skin, wiry hair, sticky wetness. His mouth pressed to your shoulder, licking, nipping, kissing alternately, his fingers pressed deep inside you, other arm loosening around your middle, hand playing messily with your clit. His eyes in the mirror, trapping you there with him. Unashamed in their exploration of your body, greedy, watching your soaked cunt pull him in, the sopping sounds she makes as she tries to hold him there. You’re surprised at how hot it makes you feel, how wanted, how turned on. The streak of slick and sweat against your skin, Frankie's wet fingers that spread it there.

You whine again, skin burning, glistening with sweat. Tip your head back, onto his shoulder, to nip his skin impatiently between your teeth. 

‘Frankie,’ you murmur, breath sweet against his ear, ‘Wanna come on your cock.’

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Is that what you want? You want my cock?’

You moan again, louder, drunk on the feeling between your legs, his continued movement. 

‘Yes.’ You hiss, as he sucks a mark onto your neck.

‘Say it. Need to hear you say it.’

‘Want your cock. Need your cock, Francisco.’

You swear you see his eyes roll into the back of his head in the glass of the mirror, and then he’s moving fast, with precision.

He eases his fingers from your pussy, gentle, not a drop of hesitation. He pushes your hips until they rise, tilting your whole body forwards until you’re on your knees, hands pressed into the mattress. You feel like jelly, so loose and warm-limbed you’re sure you could be moulded into any shape he wished.

‘Good girl,’ he mumbles, pressing hot kisses against your shoulders, down your spine. ‘Good fucking girl.’ 

His hands are on your hips, ready to move you, but in a second, you’re turning to face him. He’s watching you, reverent, like he can’t believe you’re here, that he’s here. You place a knee on either side of his, one hand pulling at the curls at the nape of his neck, titling his head back so you can slant your mouth against his, licking between his lips as you lower yourself gently, rocking your soaked folds over his sensitive cock. 

The movement knocks the air from his lungs, mouth stuttering against yours, unable to kiss you back. Feeling you on his fingers was one thing, but having you sliding against him like this is a whole nother. You giggle at him, and a whimper clears the back of his throat.

‘You okay, baby?’ You smirk, voice hoarse. He supposes it’s only fair, now you’ve got the upper hand. He lets you keep it, hands roving desperately, kneading and pulling at the flesh of your ass, mouth dipping to your nipple, letting you glide over him. Now processing how hard he is, how painfully his cock throbs. 

He’s ready to be greedy, ready to find out how he fits inside you. 

He pulls you up, closer, by the hips. Grips his cock firmly between your legs, swipes it between your folds, making sure to bump against your clit just to hear you whimper.

You brace your hands against his chest as you rest your leaking hole against him, the tip just breaching the tight ring of muscle. You whine, scratching fine lines into his skin.

He swallows - so handsome. Dark curls, dark eyes. Strong body, a body that feels like home, like someone who has always kept you safe, has always made you feel seen.

‘Look at me,’ he says, for the second time. You drag your eyes to him, stalling your movements. He waits until he knows your brain has caught up with your body. ‘Slowly.’ 

You nod, lowering yourself against the blunt head of his cock, clenching your teeth at the sweet stretch. He anchors you with one hand cupped to your cheek, the other firm at your ass, listening to your hiccuped moans, your shuddering breaths, releasing his through his teeth. You’re so warm, so wet, so tight.

And he fills you to the brim. Every inch you take a marvel, pressing against every nerve ending, every tender spot, like he was made for you. You settle when you reach his base, clit catching on the wiry hairs there, rocking slightly to feel him even better, letting your slick soak him, feeling yourself pull tight, loosen, ebb, flow.

You knock your forehead with his, finding his eyes. Bright, fiery, needy. You close the space between you, kissing him as you pant together. Feeling so full, so open, forgetting every worry, every niggling doubt. You rest your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, shaking as you lift your hips, feeling the thick glide of him, clenching, releasing, dropping back down slowly, again, listening to the squelch of him moving inside you, desperate, needy little noises leaving your mouth. It’s intoxicating - the more you move, the louder you get, the louder he gets. Deep rumbles of praise, heavy grunts, hands soothing, pinching every inch of skin they can find. You grind a little more on the downwards movement this time, keening at the scrape against that bundle of nerves again, choking on your words.

‘God.’

‘That’s it, Bu- baby.’ He groans, and a huff of amusement leaves you at the slip.

‘What, am I not Bug anymore?’

It’s breathless, your tease, not your usual gnashing comeback. He groans, teeth grazing the bud of your nipple.

‘I am not using the nickname my daughter gave you when I’m inside you.’

You giggle at the thought, body clenching a little. Frankie moans, open mouthed, eyes squeezing shut, hands grasping at you.

‘Don’t laugh,’ he gasps, ‘Holy fuck, please don’t laugh. I’ll come.’

You hum, giving in, dragging your body up and down again, smooth, slow, letting the feeling, the warmth, the pressure, the ache begin to build again. You lean back a little, one hand on his thigh, one loose on his shoulder, and the change in angle has you crying out, cursing, Frankie watching your face before his eyes fall down your body - beautiful, glistening in the orange light. The curve of your waist, the quickening bounce of your tits, and then your cunt. Watches as he disappears inside you, watches as you stretch around him, watches the glisten of your wetness down his length, where it’s tacky at the bottom, staining the two of you where you’re connected. You reach back with your other hand, moving faster, leaning back further so he can really watch you fuck yourself onto him.

Your movements grow hungrier, a little more uncoordinated; stomach tensing, mouth hanging open, cut off, broken cries of his name, feeling yourself wind tighter, spill more onto his lap. He runs a large palm down your body, thumb finding your clit, catching it, rubbing firm circles. He feels you clench for real this time, whole body shuttering at the feeling, your hand clutching his.

‘Fuck, Frankie -’ you gasp, ‘Please, I’ll -’

You’re cut off as he changes his rhythm, his pressure, finding the pace that makes you moan with every breath, mouth stretching in a smile.

‘You’ll what, princesa?’

You whine, huffing, thighs burning, release so close you can almost taste it.

‘Motherfucker -’ you bite, no real venom.

‘Words, baby.’ He coos.

‘I’ll come,’ you pant, ‘Frankie - I - I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, please, gonna come, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie -’

You sob, loudly, euphoric as your orgasm shatters through you, body cramping, juddering. A gush of liquid between you, your pussy squeezing him tight, so tight -

‘Good girl, bebita, such a good fucking girl -’

And he’s flipping you, deftly, a hand protecting your skull, so you’re on your back, mind and body reeling as you continue to shudder, still calling out for him, nails carving pink half moons in his shoulders as you wrap your legs around his waist on instinct, the angle deepening, his body pressed flush to yours.

‘Fuck,’ he snarls, ‘Feel like heaven, baby, wanna watch you come every day, every hour, all the time -’ he’s babbling, he knows he is. But he’s caught up, entranced by how you look beneath him, his thrusts sloppy already, watching your eyes roll back, your chest heave, tits bounce. Lower again, where he’s fucking into you, soaked with your release. He winds a hand around the back of your neck, gently tilting your head to make you see what he’s seeing, to watch him fuck you.

You clench painfully around him, gasping - shit, Frankie, oh my God, so good, so good - your body rallying for another, senses overwhelmed, aflame with pleasure. He clutches your thigh, hitches your legs higher up his waist. Licks at your pulse point, sucks different mark there, leaning back to take you in again.

‘Look so pretty, bebita,’ he moans, ‘All fucked out on my cock like this.’

And it’s like a switch is flicked. Frankie sees it pass through your eyes, a wicked glimmer. The way the corners of your lips twitch, even as your eyelashes flutter at the sensation of him drawing his thick cock back out of you, even as your body whirs with a second orgasm.

‘Yeah, baby?’ you coo, ‘You like how I look taking your cock?’

He can’t say anything in reply, mouth only hanging open as you start to talk again.

‘Like how I look when I’m full of you? Wanna be full of you all the time, Frankie. Wanna feel you even when you’re not inside me like this. Wanna - fuck - wanna feel you dripping out of me -’

He groans roughly, almost animalistic.

‘Don’t say that.’ He grits.

You moan at his tone, fingers twisting through his hair, mind getting hazy as you flutter around him.

‘But I want it, Francisco,’ you rasp, ‘Want you to come inside me, want you to fuck me full of you -’

He bares his teeth a little, nipping at your bottom lip. Balls drawing up, heat at the base of his spine, faster, harder -

‘You want that?’

‘Please, Frankie.’

He moans again, sees stars when he closes his eyes, as your whimpers pitch higher.

‘Gonna come,’ you whisper, ‘Come, Frankie, please, come inside me -’

You’re not sure who’s first, you’re not sure who’s louder. A shout of your name, his name, ripping through the air, you clamping down around him, the jerk of him inside you as he paints your walls with his cum, fucking it into you as long as he can, the squelch, the sensitivity drawing out your highs.

He eases when it gets too much, rolling you onto your side, keeping you full until he softens enough to slip out, kissing all over your face. You share breath, teeth knocking against each other, tongues gliding along lips, whining as you feel him begin to drip out of you.

Fingers slipping against his damp skin, pulling him close, sharing whispered secrets, tugging him closer still when he starts to harden again against your thigh.

Hours slip by, the darkness behind the curtains blooming into something like daybreak. He tastes you again, fills you again, you make sure to take him in your mouth.

And when the first birds begin to sing, you are fast asleep in each others’ arms.

His fingers are tracing your shoulder, your face pressed to his chest, murmuring conversation in the light of the morning. Sun stretching through your clumsily closed curtains, rustle of the trees outside the window, cracked open for fresh air when the scent of sex was laying heavy in the room. Legs tangled together, further entwined in your sheets. 

In a moment of quiet, Frankie speaks.

‘Your picture’s fallen over.’

Twisting your head, you look to what he’s pointing out and snort, burying your face in his warm skin.

‘What?’ He asks, amusement curling the word.

You pull a face.

‘It didn’t fall over. I turned it over.’ You admit.

A beat.

‘Why?’ 

You rest your chin on his pectoral, taking in the crease of confusion between his brows. You lean to kiss it away, because you can, now. Because you never have to think about it without doing it again. 

You squeeze your lip between your teeth.

‘It’s uh - it’s a picture of me and Dad.’

He frowns again, eyes searching your face. You exhale.

‘I didn’t… I didn't want him to - see?’

He chuckles softly, pink dusting his cheeks as he swipes a hand across his jaw, thinking, remembering.

‘I didn’t see you do that -’

‘I did it before I came over.’

You cringe a little at the confession. Silly now that it’s happened, but still.

‘Before…?’

You nod. Mhm. A smile teases at his lips, eyes lighting with mischief.

‘But we didn’t - I mean - we didn’t plan it -’

‘I know,’ you groan, hiding your face again. ‘I just had a feeling.’

Frankie snorts, squeezing your hip.

‘Good feeling, baby.’

‘Asshole.’ You giggle, nipping his skin between your teeth.

He laughs again, shifting you in his arms so he can hold you properly.

‘Good job I didn’t try anything last week, then,’ he smiles, ‘Can’t have him thinking I’m not a gentleman -’

‘Frankie, you literally came in your pants -’

He gasps in mock offence, squeezing you tighter.

‘And so did you!’

You laugh, properly, against him, chests leaping against each other. You press your lips to his neck as he presses his to your hair.

‘Hell of a first kiss, though.’ He chuckles.

He feels you tense as your heart leaps in your ribs. 

One last secret.

He loosens his grip, watching you, a flicker of worry cooling his joy. You chew your lip, brow furrowing, eyes flicking from somewhere in the middle distance to meet his.

‘What, baby?’ He whispers. You inhale deeply.

‘How much do you remember from Pride?’

He grimaces, relieved at your answering smile.

‘After eleven? Not a lot.’

You hum, pulling yourself from his arms. He lets you go reluctantly, watching as you stand. Your gorgeous body - gorgeous curves, the places he’s gotten to know so well over the last few hours, the marks that have begun to bloom after his lips and teeth. 

You rummage around in a dresser draw, turning to face him with a single thin, glossy strip of paper in your hands. You step back towards him, eyes catching on the way he's sprawled out before you. Golden skin, broad shoulders, one hand behind his head, bicep flexed. One leg thrown out from beneath the covers, his modesty - or what’s left of it - barely hidden by your sheets. A flash of heat moves through you. You bite your lip.

‘Do you remember the photobooth?’

‘Mhm. A little.’

You nestle back down next to him, the slip of paper still clutched to your chest. Your eyes dart to his again.

‘Our first kiss wasn’t last week.’

‘What?’

His eyes are wide, mind whirring as you hold out the paper for him to take.

A series of five shots of the two of you. Laughing, close, and then with mouths pressed together, hungry. The last one messy, still locked in a searing kiss, but he can see the drunk grins peeking through.

He exhales heavily.

‘We kissed at Pride?’ He asks, bewildered.

You nod, twisting your hands in your lap.

‘We did.’

He looks back at you, still confused. A little worried, a little disappointed. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he breathes, ‘I don’t remember -’

You laugh, knocking his shoulder with yours.

‘Neither did I, baby.’ You say, kissing his curls.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

You suck a breath in through your teeth, shrug.

‘You didn’t remember, and I - I panicked. Didn’t know if it was just a thing for you or, you know, a thing.’

‘Like last week?’

You nod, sombre.

‘Like last week.’

He shakes his head.

‘You’re my favourite idiot, you know that?’

You scoff, brightening. 

‘Dick. I had no idea -’

‘I love you.’

The simplicity of it takes your breath away. Winds you, catches you right in the chest, battering against your heart.

His eyes are shining, and the truth of it is there. Has always been there. Somehow, you just never saw it before. 

I love you.

The weeks of wanting, of worrying. Of denying, of lying awake thinking about it -

‘I love you, too.’

His eyes crease at the corners, mouth lifting, tongue peeking from between his teeth.

‘Yeah?’ He breathes.

‘Yeah.’ You whisper. He swallows.

‘Think a part of me always has.’

There’s a prickle in his throat, heat behind his eyes. He wonders when it happened for you.

Wonders whether you had him from that first glimpse from Lucia’s room, from searching for bugs in your yard. Your tenderness with his daughter, the laughter in your eyes. From those moments you curled into his side on his sofa, when he’d come home, so relieved to find you in his house.

Knows, for sure, you’d had him long before his realisation on his porch, sand still between your toes.

He clears his throat, tangling your fingers.

‘That mean I get to call you mine, now?’

You smile, eyes watery. Hey, neighbour. I’m Frankie - from across the way. His curls in the sunshine, water balloons over fences. His broad back to you as he cooked dinner, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders. His gentle hands as you cried, phone calls through kitchen windows.

‘Please.’ You whisper.

The lightness in his beam is infectious, a tear spilling over as he kisses you and kisses you. Mine. Mine. Palms skating over skin, tangled in hair, an endless moment in morning sunshine. Your heart swells impossibly, stitched together, glued together by this man in your bed. You don’t know when he did it. But he holds it now, whole, fixing something you know your Dad never wanted to break.

‘Thank you.’ You rasp against his lips, chin wobbling. He doesn't ask what for. He knows, just by the look in your eyes. He shakes his head minutely, voice thick, quiet.

‘My honour.’

He holds you close, bodies melded together. You never want to let go, the tightness in your chest easing again as he makes you laugh, as you say it again, outloud, breathless. Mine. The whispers only broken by rumbles of noise outside, voices -

Deep voices in his backyard you can hear even from here. You groan into each others’ mouths, the sound dissolving into a laugh.

‘They’ll be wanting breakfast.’ You giggle quietly.

‘They can cook,’ he mumbles against your lips, ‘I’ve got mine right here.’

He squeezes your ass, dragging your hips against his thigh. Still wet, leaking from the two of you, something heating in his chest at the thought.

You hum, not helping the case by kissing down his chest.

‘Should really say goodbye at least.’

He grunts as you nibble at his belly, neither acquiescing or disagreeing.

‘And then,’ you continue, ‘I remember something about you keeping me in bed for a week?’

You pause, looking up at him. He curls a hand around your cheek, so tender. 

‘Me too.’ He whispers. 

You grin as you clamber back up his body, planting a firm kiss against his lips.

‘Couple of hours,’ you promise yourself, ‘And then I have you all to myself.’

He chuckles against your lips, an eyebrow lifting, repeating your words from a week ago - a lifetime ago - back to you.

‘We’ve got the whole summer, Bug.’

You giggle, wiggling your eyebrows.

‘Plenty of time for a ride in the sky, then, too.’ You grin, nudging him.

He presses a long, sweet kiss to your mouth.

‘I’d take you to the moon if I could.’

[vixensbrainrotts]

Aren’t you jealous? — Takashi Mitsuya

Content: short fluff

Tropes: established relationships, miscommunication

Warnings: not proof read

Summary: You and Mitsuya who have an undying trust in one another. So much so that when Mistuya is being too nice for his own good and then struggles under the reprocution, you just sit back, grin, and watch.

Vixen's two cents: hey! This has been collecting dust in the back of my drafts so I've decided to give it some love and let it see the light of day. I love mitsuya till the day I die and it's only a matter of time till I write something for Hakkai too (cutie). Anyway, remember that my requests are open if you have au idea you'd like to see! Now enjoy!

You take joy in watching Mitsuya grow uncomfortable around the overly-friendly girl who’s hanging off him like a tick. You had told him that she was no good before but he didn’t seem to care all that much, assuring you that he could handle it. Look who’s laughing now.

And when Hakkai comes up to you, face tinged pink with confusion (perhaps frustration?), and asks you why you’re not doing anything. You just smile and say “He can handle it, and if not I’ll know when to step in.”

Kai's eyes almost pop out of their sockets, his jaw basically hitting the floor. "What do you meannnn?" he whined in disbelief. "I mean that he did that to himself, I told him not to." You looked far too relaxed for Hakkai's liking and leaned back against one of the bar chairs on the kitchen island, one hand supporting your chin, the other grasping your drink.

"Youre just gonna let that happen?" Hakkai prompts again, completely baffled. "Yeah, look, he's coming crawling to me already." You smirk teasingly and nod your head in their direction. Mitsuya, clearly displeased, was weaving his way out of the girl's grasp, making a bee-line to where you and Hakkai were, but ever incessant on wooing him, the girl followed right after him.

"Hey there." you started once he entered your circle. Mitsuya and you made brief eye contact, his gaze screaming a plea before he looked to Hakkai, to whom he gave a weak greeting. “Hi.” He breathed, voice exhausted and annoyed as he rested both arms on the counter he was lying on.

"You seem... glowing." Hakkai tries to comment awkwardly, seeing the girl weasel her way to where the three of you are standing. Mitsuya only offers a disgruntled groan in return.

"Takashiiiiii! Are these your freindssss? you wanna introduce me already??? Hahahahahahah that's so sweet!!" The girl squealed and clung herself to his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. Your ears rung at her obnoxious laughter, the noise foreign and fake. The air grew uncomfortable when Mitsuya didnt respond,so she took the liberty of introducing herself, drawing out the short speech with elaborate (unnesseary) details, reaching over the counter to shake your hand.

You only looked at her, unimpressed, and look at her a bit pitifully. "This is the catch of the night Mr. Mitsuya?" you smiled down at the heap of a man, and he groaned in response. "Yes Mrs. Mitsuya, it seems that something got caught up in my net." It was a running gag between you two- and your friends to some sort: Mr and Mrs despite not being wed. It was clear that it was forever between you two though, so everyone just kinda went with it.

Little Miss disturbance didn't know of that though, and upon looking down at your hands and finding one (the wrong) ring finger embezzled with a promise ring, her mouth widened. Jaw on the floor and hands clammy, she slowly stepped away from Takashi and retreated. Fast. "It was, ah, uhh, pleasure meeting you mr and mrs mitsuya, let me know if you ever need a babysitter.”

Hakkai laughed out loud and clutched his stomach “You’re the best y/n! Man you totally owned her just now! Fuckin' wear the pants!" Te laughed and clapped a hand on Takashi’s shoulder, who had still not risen from his slumped pose. "You better not hire her though, I'll do it for free, swear I wanna watch your little beasts <3" Hakkai's voice had a serious edge now and he looked at you. "Make sure to tell me if he ever dares to treat you wrong. I'll rock his shit!"

Sighing you nod at Hakkai with a smile "Thanks Kai. Will do." you rounded the kitchen island and came to stand to next Takashi, resting your hand on his arm. "Good evening Mr. Mitsuya.” he pulled his head from the counter. "Good evening Mrs. Mitsuya." his drowsy eyes met yours - smiling as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You smiled back, and before long your lips met his in a soft exchange of endearment.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Hakkai turn red and turn away with a shy smile on his face too.

[yanderemommabean]

Yandere red room idea

The Red rooms. It’s not something He really thought he’d find himself using but here he is, walking up the corridor with a key card in his pocket. It’s definitely a secret society type of deal, code words, secret hand gestures, one use keys, all the security one could imagine. The first time he even heard of such a place like this, he assumed it was dark internet fetish mumbo jumbo. 

But after he found you, well, the right people found him and led him to the right place. Not a room of pain, but one of pleasure, to show his darling all of his intense love and emotion and then some. 

He hasn’t even booked a room yet, he’s here as a sort of consultation visit. To see if he really has the balls to do this and show that yes, he adores you, and that his love outweighs anyone else’s. 

Sliding the card into the door brought him into an empty room besides a desk, a few chairs, and two large filing cabinets. He takes a look around, quickly surveying the area, before stepping inside fully and sitting in the chair facing the large office chair in front of him. Before he can let his shoulders relax, a man follows in behind him, followed by a woman as well, both dressed professionally and seeming very…happy. 

“Ah! It’s good to see you, Mr-” 

“Lee, you can just call me Lee. And you are?” He asks, gesturing to the woman standing beside the man in the suit as he begins to open a manilla envelope, spreading the papers out on the table. 

“Victoria. We can leave it at that. I can tell that you know secrecy and customer privacy are our top priority with this business” She says with a knowing smile, sliding the papers over to face them towards the doctor.

“Now, Lee, What we have here is a very basic outline of what we can do for you and that love bug you’ve found yourself. We celebrate rather than punish our loved ones here, and want them to understand that to their core! We find that the red room experience helps!” The man exclaims with excitement, but has yet to really introduce himself. 

Lee was told to expect that however. The leader behind this all was kind enough to reach out but he wasn’t to expect anything too personal. “All business” was his very aura, and Lee could respect that. He nods along as Victoria took the reigns, explaining some of their core beliefs before getting to what Lee really wanted to know. 

“We can make the room however you please, lease it for up to four days at a time with personnel who checks in every four hours with their own special keys, for the darlings sake. As much as we wish to fully trust our customers, we will not take the risk of them dying or being seriously injured in any way. As stated, this is a way to show love and we give you the tools to do so! “ Victoria then spreads apart the papers, pointing here and there as she explains a bit more, intriguing Lee with every bit. “We have romantic layouts like at a hotel, we have BDSM specialist rooms, we have very highly rated toys and devices that we inspect and clean before each room is ready, and we have a live stream option if you’re the type who thinks everyone should see the pleasure you’re darling is receiving! I personally recommend the tribbing machines with the black rose theme if you prefer the dom and sub type of vibe, but we can personalize however you like!” 

Huh. Wow. They’re very thorough aren’t they? 

The business man nods, sitting back in his seat as he adjusts his tie. “I started many companies in my life, all based on bringing smiles and joy, and it’s my personal belief that there needs to be a company looking out for your lover! Love, adventurous or more mellow, is a beautiful thing that our darlings need to be showered in as much as possible. If you’d like, this can also be set up in a way to just calmly express your love to your darling, but I will clarify that it isn’t guaranteed to go well…I advise getting our crews to pick them up and deliver them for you, with every person being given a  background check of course! Safety and security is what comes first for your darling” 

Lee was a bit flabbergasted to say the least. They talk so professionally, have such a strange ethic to them, and they act as if he’s about to buy a company or large house rather than finally get ahold of the love of his life. It’s…Odd but charming. He can’t say he’s turned away from this, in fact he has a few ideas for his own red room. 

“Are they CPR trained and do they have basic first aid knowledge?” Lee asks as he looks over some more of the photos, liking the array of toys they had up for use to add to the room, each one costing extra of course but for what he had planned…it wouldn’t be too bad. 

Victoria smirks, laughing lightly in amusement “I can see we’ve caught even more of your attention. We can make sure these personnel are trained for the pick up, but our permanent staff are already trained in first aid help and some, even small surgical emergencies. You know, always needing to be prepared and all”. 

They talk  a few more things out, Lee deciding that if these people were serious, then he could trust them. If they crossed him in any way, he’d easily rid at least a handful of them. He didn’t get that gut feeling he usually does when people are lying to him however. This felt thorough and legit and well…Professional. 

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you Mr Lee. We’ll be getting in touch with you shortly! You wont regret setting this up-” the business man says with a firm handshake, smiling in an almost uncanny way. “And remember, when you’re in a bind, one of our smiles will ease your mind"

-Mommabean (This was so silly but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!)

[eisdendrobium]

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

pairings : ayato x reader summary : you're in a loveless marriage with ayato, you thought you could make it work at first but it seems impossible, so you left.

note : heavy angst, not proofread, sad ending (sorry y'all), nothing else - enjoy ^^

this is a part 2 of "glimpse of us"

yeah he's gorgeous but that's all he is. all you've ever liked in him. never once did he ever bring you joy

"let's get a divorce ayato." ayato snaps out of his trace and looks up at your eyes. taken aback.

"what makes you get to this point, [name]?" he place his tea cup down and asked you calmly.

you let out a sigh and straighten your posture, "i know you still love her ayato. I know the 'secret' letters you sent her and the letters you received from her. and i know, i know that i came and ruined your relationship with her. So, why stay in this loveless marriage right? torturing ourselves every single day"

a small smile forms on ayato's lips, yet his expression is unreadable.

"... yeah, i'm sorry [name], but,, i'm afraid we can't. what will our family thinks? what will the people say when they see us divorced?"

a hand went up to ruffle your hair. frustrated.

"i know. i know it's for our family, but i'm not going to waste my life just for politics ayato, and so should you.."

"i..."

"i'm tired of this, please understand me. i've tried to make this whole thing works alright? i've tried to make us work so many time yet you never seemed to put any effort in this"

———

finally back to his beloved, ayato felt like he's the happiest man alive. All the catching up, the i love you's, the casual and fancy date ayato does with her to fill up his one year yearning.

"look ayato! i've bought you dango!" she smiles while showing a pack of tricoloured dango

ayato couldn't help but smile, taking the dango and eating one of it.

"ayato? i've made you dango! thought you could use a break,, there's also milk tea! i know how much you like dango milk"

"are you alright love? is it bad?" ayato didn't even realize his smile falter as he looks to the ground. why would he think about you? maybe it was a memory to appreciate you. that's what he say to himself.

but somehow it keeps on happening.

"how's the food love?" "what do you think, ayato?"

"oh how fun! let's go make a sand castle love!" she laughed while dragging ayato by the hand. "woah... the view is breathtaking during sunset, thank you for bringing me here, ayato" you thanked, eyes focused on the orange ball of fire.

"oh love... this is the third milk tea you've had this week, you know it's not good to consume too much.." she said, gently taking the bottle from his grasp "are you drinking milk tea again? you know it's not good to consume too much of it.." you said, concerned.

too much. it's too much for him to handle.

why are you there? why are you haunting him? the thought of you is eating him alive. what is it he asked, guilt? regret? you're happy now. probably with someone new, someone who actually loves you. So should he. right? so why is it so hard to let you go?

his night were constantly filled by your smile, your laugh, you.

"My Lord, there's a package for you" thoma enters the estate one day, carrying a rather small box.

taking it from thoma and giving him a thanks, ayato opens the box and sees the small gifts he once gave you in act of formality towards you and your family.

slowly picking one of them up, he spot a letter under it, opening it he reads what was written:

to Lord Kamisato,

hey... i was sorting things out and find these gifts you gave me, thought i should return it to you.

signed, [name]

closing the letter he scavenge into the box as he recalled the day he gave you each of those trinkets.

"ooh who gave you those gift love?" she asked, entering the room

"uhm.. i'm not sure darling" standing up from the chair he excuse himself out.

ayato needed space, he needs to think - i don't even know what is there to think really, there's only one obvious answer.

he crimple the letter and rush towards your house.

halfway there rain started pouring and thunder starts dancing around the sky, seems like the universe is not letting him meets you yet he push through. he have had enough of this whole thing.

\

a knock was heard through your door, 'who could it be?' you thought. standing up from the sofa you make your way towards the door and opens it only to find someone you've least expected.

ayato, drench in rain, breathing heavily - looking at you intently, his violet eyes dancing with yours.

"ayato? what are you doing here?" and without warning he hugs you.

he hugs you? this is the first.

neither of you break away from the hug for a while, you're too shocked to push him away, and him getting too comfortable embracing you.

"i'm sorry [name], i'm sorry.." he mumbles as he pulls you closer.

finally regaining your composure you pull away from him,

"why don't you come in and change first hm? then we could talk" you move and gesture him to come which he gladly did.

after changing he joins you in the tatami room. it was quiet, yet ayato finds it comforting. the only sound that could be heard was the rain outside and the fireplace, the perfect ambience to live in for ayato.

"...so....wanna explain why you came?" you starts, eyes never leaving the fire.

"yeah, uhm.. [name], you've been on my mind lately.. and i couldn't help but feel these negative emotion around me,,, i just- .. i thought maybe talking about it with you would help" he explains

"was it because of the package i sent you?"

"no- well.. that package was what pushed me to came here... [name] i know i wasn't the husband material then and i know you're happy now, but i can't.. stop thinking about you, about us. and i know it's wrong, i know it's cruel but i just can't help it" he turns his whole body towards you. totally breaking his character.

finally turning your head to look at him you answer, "yeah, it is cruel ayato. i've tried everything to make us work but you threw all of it away without even glancing at it, and now you're asking me to what? take you back? what about your lover? you loves her and so does she"

"i know! i know i messed up badly and truth is i'm still a mess right now [name]" he cover his face with desperation and ruffle his hair.

silent took over the atmosphere as you think about it.

you gave him your everything, your love, time, effort, everything. yet he gave you nothing in return. what's in it for you if you gave him another chance?

"..i'm sorry ayato." ayato looks up towards you and sees that you've already averts your gaze towards the fireplace.

quickly standing up ayato make his way towards you, kneeling in front of you, taking your hands in his "no.. please [name]" he whispers

"i loved you ayato, but now,, i just wish you'd stay in my memories. you're happy with her and that's it. don't make this any harder for me.." you look down towards your interwind hand and slowly pulling them away from his grasp.

"please.." he whispers once more.

shaking your head and raising your head to look at him with a sad smile "i can't" you whispered in return.

ayato let his head fall along with the tears, staining your clothes.

closing your front door you finally cut the relationship between the two of you. slowly you feel your eyes stinging as the tears finally starts flowing.

why did he came? why did he have to ruin all of your effort to move on and let him go?

you're supposed to put him in the past, and you did. So why are you crying now?

"i'm sorry ayato.. but i have to do it for me.." you say quietly towards ayato's retreating figure from the window.

\

a few months after you finally found someone, a person you loved and who loves you just as much.

ayato finds that fact lovely yet crushing at the same time. he said that he’s happy for you yet he knows that he’s lying to himself, missions after missions he did just to forget you. busying himself so he wouldn’t drown over the fact that he’d been replaced.

he saw you once in one of the stores buying sweets with a guy, you looked happy— in love, maybe that’s more accurate. ayato felt like the world stop spinning for a moment as he spied over you and your beloved.

that moment was his before, yet he didn’t cherished it like he should.

you were his but now anymore. that’s the fact that he’s trying to accept.

he’ll be marrying his beloved next month, the kamisato family finally agreed to do it and he’s happy about it. it’s everything he had dreamt of!

so why is there a longing for you? a desire to just leave everything behind and take you with him, away from everybody else?

oh how history is repeating itself. what a cruel thing.

a/n : reblogs are greatly appreciated! and please feel free to comment what you think about this fic ^^

taglist : @ayatoslovelywife @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @alexiris @yummyberry @starlightaura @tiredasiandaughter @almond-t0fu @clevercatprotector14 @ilovemilfs1111 @rose-ly @genshinloversposts

[lilimalia]

CRAZY? FOR YOU? // windbreaker

SYNOPSIS... wind breaker men really are crazy aren't they. picking fights everywhere. anywhere. with anyone they can! even, you. it's a good thing you can fight then... right? Maybe there's more then just the fights that their picking at.

CHARACTERS... sugishita kyotaro, togame jo, kaji ren,

DISCLAIMERS... cursing, gender neutral reader, romantic, part II, manga spoilers

BARISTA'S INTEL... again, all based on my silly little depictions of what styles combat each character the best!

CAFE TUNE... from the start // laufey

PART I (sakura, suo, kiryu)

SUGISHITA KYOTARO (wing chun)

Sugishita has always been a man more of anger than actual thoughts. It was one of the more obvious traits that came out of his character at first glance. That being said, it always made him harder to read than any of the other Bofurin men.

His devotion to Umemiya was his pride and power, his driving force that made him understandable... If not a bit genuinely emotional.

So why is that your standing face front of his idol, Umemiya Hajime, watching as the guy bashfully rubs the back of his neck, glancing to the side as he asks,

"You see... Ah, how do I explain this?... Sugishita just needs a little push! Yeah, that's right! Just a little nudge. I'm worried he's spending too much time brooding over how Sakura pisses him off rather than actually practicing...", a small sheepish chuckle leaving his lips as he glances as you. Eyeing you nervously as if the favor was a debt.

Is this really Furin's head? Man... He's wimpish- oh but don't let dear Sugishita hear you say that-

"Anyhow! Are you up for it [Name]? I hope this isn't too much to ask for! I promiseee, I'll pay you back! I'll even have Kotoha make you an omurice! On the house!" He's clasping his hands together now, looking at you pleadingly as he scoots in, dress shoes scrapping against the rooftops dirty cobble.

Man... It's really hard to deny him, isn't it, Sugi?

"First off, are you even sure Kotoha would be okay with that?? I know you guys are close, but man I'd be pissy if someone made me return their favor without notice- Also, hey! Your acting as if I'm all hard headed, I'll do it! Just please... Stop looking at me like that. It's gross... And very unfitting for the leader of a gang school..." you grimace, sneering a little -against your will- sighing at his pitiful puppy eyes.

"Ohhh... Kotoha wouldn't mind at all! We're sooo close! My little sister would be thrilled to help me! But! You'll do it?! Thank goodness! Thank you! Oh phew... I can finally tell Hiragi too chill out without a worry!" Now he's bounced up to his proper height, blocking out the sun as he jumps in joy, giving you a close eye smile.

"Thanks [Name]! Please go easy on Bofurin's loyal dog! Now shoo, shoo! Since we've taken care of this, I've got zucchini to water!..." Without a second thought, he pushes you, gently, out the door, shooing you as he waves a frantic goodbye.

The door slams behind you with a thud.

Once again, your sitting in your own thoughts, stuck dumbstruck at the sheer... Naivety, even if feigned, of Umemiya. Actual whiplash, you suppose.

Finding a heavy sigh release from your lungs again, your vision adjusts to the dark staircase winding down to the third floor of the school. Strangely, there's something, or someone... Propped up against the wall, mid way through the staircase.

Taking a couple steps down, your eyes narrow.

"Hmph."

Oh my god it's Sugishita-

"What the fu- Sugishita!? Goodness gracious you're like some sort of ghost- Wha- What are you even?-" before your able to stammer out the rest of your surprised exclamation, Sugishita glares at you. His hauntingly long ghoulish hair draping down his face, as he grunts.

He barely glances back, locking eyes with you once, scanning you up and down. Holding onto the moment, for a couple seconds longer, he huffs again and stomps up the rest of the flight of stairs. Crunched over in bad posture.

"What the heck was even going on there... he's so creepy..." murmuring to yourself as you finish walking down the stairs, listening to Umemiya's ecstatic voice dim into the distance.

Suo and Nirei had told you he was a bit of the brute.

You just hope Umemiya knew who he was assigning you to.

...

Sparring with BoFurin comes with evident chaos.

Grunts and shouts echo across tatami covered floors, windows blazing open as pairings of sweaty exhausted fighters sway back and forth across the rooms.

Your dead set in the middle, having just taken a break from your first partner, scouting for Sugishita per captain's orders.

Hiragi finds you first, walking up to you in his usual state of prolonged stressed.

"[Name]! Are you looking for Sugishita? That damned brat was stationed outside with some of the other members."

"Oh? Are you not watching them Hiragi, sir?" You're taking a noticing to his unique sharpened teeth... Like a shark. Wondering, can he bite someone with those? Would Sugishita be able to do that too?... His teeth are just as sharp aren't they?...

A sharp barking sound wakes you from your daze.

"Hey! Wake up! Umemiya said you'd be the one sparring with him today, teach him a thing or too, okay? That brats got way too much bite on him. Needs somewhere to chew it off. Go on, scat! Beat him in for me!" Hiragi chatters up a storm, motioning you away, shooing you to the exit as you jog out of the building.

What is it with the leading men here demanding things and shooing you off? Hmm...

Immediately after stepping outside, the hot air hits you like a wave. Absolutely ironically. If it wasn't bad enough that you were sweating buckets from sparring, the Japan heat would most definitely take you out.

From the side, you hear outrageous slams, hard disgruntled and pained sounds as you feel a slight shaking of the dirt beneath your boots.

When you've swiveled your head towards the noise, you see several upperclassmen twitching slowly and painfully... laying gruesome and distraught on the ground.

Holy sh-

Sugishita's running up towards another student, poorly defended, jumping high into the air as he brutely lands a devasting blow smack damn to the side of his face.

You. Were most definitely. Screwed.

But more so concerned-

Isn't he usually lazed in fighting?... Unless it had direct connection to his famed idol, you really couldn't understand where the sudden boost of energy came from...

"[Name]! [Name]! You're here! Please help us out, switch in with Sugishita right now! He might just kill half of our classmates [Namee]!!..." Nirei's ran up frantically beside you, making dramatic fanfare as he pleads.

Cracking your knuckles, you sigh fearfully, once more nodding at those damned begging puppy eyes, stepping forward.

"Sugishitaa!"

...

Okay so maybe this wasn't so bad.

So far, you've managed to stay alive. Watching ever so keenly at the bent over black haired boy glare at you. He does this weird thing with his eyes... As if he's daring you to take him down.

He runs, he punches, and then he forces all his strength down on you all over again.

If Umemiya had wanted you to push him and his thinking, you would.

He's stepping forward now, bracing himself angrily as he yells in rage, permanent scowl on his face furrowing even more at his bushy brows. He spins his kick, trying to land one at your side.

Gracefully, you push into his momentum anticipating his already raised fist, ready too gut you in the face.

With one quick movement and then another, his parade of punches are narrowed away. Your hands, flat and straight, palm's facing out each way as you flick his fists away effortlessly.

The more you redirected, the angrier he got, pushing into you as he tries to find some sort of opening.

Eventually, out of realization, he takes to backing up, making space for kicks and uses outside of savage shots.

Unfortunately, you knew otherwise. Pushing in to keep your wing chun usable. As he tries to step in again, quick to throw another, you palm faces in.

A rapid palm strike going forward.

And it knocks him back off his feet, as he falls miserably. Now you've really ticked him off... He's glaring, messy long hair dancing down the front of his face, covering his fierce eyes as he stares you down. His teeth grind together as he lets out some sort of angry emotional grunt-

Spinning into a kick again, snapping back and forth between legs relentlessly. Switching up his pace to match your quick hands.

Shit. Now he's learning a little too quick for your liking.

Desperately, you look for an exit, as your hands start reddening from the sheer force of his brutality.

He's opened his field of vision, keeping good distance away from you as you struggle to keep the fight within the courtyard.

A small group of onlookers have gathered around you both now, members hooting at you both to finish it off. Murmuring about how beastly Sugishita's strength was.

The more you tried to make good distance, the more he'd learn. Catching on quickly, your palm strikes and attempts at striking the side and front of his body were failing, as he -you hope learned- to keep good balance between his body.

In your momentary distraction from the crowd, classmates chanting your names both, he had found an opening below your waist.

Diving in sanctuary as he wrapped his arms around your waist, your hands left upwards from your wing chun as he tightened.

For a second, it felt quite safe as he squished, grunting exhaustedly, almost sweetly, around you. It almost felt like a hug, surprised, you found your arms wrapping around him as well. The faint scent of some sort of... Yuzu? Sandalwood? Wafted up, as strands of his hair flicked in your face, wafting away as he looked up at you.

And you swear. His berserked eyes softened slightly, and his frown disappeared.

Before you both fell, bruised on the ground.

...

When all of the crowd had faded away, giving congratulations to you both for the good effort of the fight, Hiragi and Umemiya approach you. Umemiya's got a bright smile on his face, laughing about something -probably about you and Sugishita- to Hiragi, who looks pained to even be near the bright man.

Considering Umemiya's appearance, you now understand where the sudden burst of spirited energy came from.

Really, it shouldn't surprise you that Sugishita's drive came from Umemiya's watchful gaze; arms crossed as he stood tall behind you, smirking knowingly.

The conversation comes quick and clear, Umemiya congratulating you and giving many thanks towards your bruised efforts, making a jab towards how relaxed Hiragi was inside the building while you were out scrapping for your life.

"Maybe we should have you as permanent watch dog for Sugishita [Name]! I've never seen him so pumped up! Man, that was really the show!"

"The only reason he was fighting so hard was because of you Moron! He saw you staring him down and wanted to impress you dumbass! Now look at them, [Name] make sure you head inside and put something on those bruises. Sorry you had to deal with this idiot's brilliant plan..." Hiragi lets out a big sigh, grabbing for his pack of pills as he crunches down on the powdery capsule.

Is that... Normal-

"Hey! This whole idea was for your sake Hiragi! Your always so uptight I was worried having you watching the freshmen would turn you bald!" Umemiya points and accusing finger at Hiragi, faking a pout.

"It's not even these new kids Umemiya! It's just Sakura and Sugishita, their all-fucking nuts!"

Now, Hiragi's got his sharp teeth pointed out as he groans back at Umemiya. The two continue arguing for minutes while your forced to stand there awkwardly... It seems very one-sided, Umemiya trying to justify how he was only worried for Hiragi, only to get a hit to the head.

Suddenly, those bruises on your body are really started to ache.

"I uh- Is this an argument you guys need me to be there for... Or can I-

'Huh? Oh, look what you've done Hiragi! We've left poor [Name] all by their lonesome. Yes, yes, go on now [Name]! Thanks again! Please check up on Furin's dear loyal dog for us would you!" He flashes a bright smile towards you, giving you a thumbs up as he starts dragging the angry Hiragi stood beside him, fume puffing out from his nose as his forehead creases.

Before Hiragi gets to argue back, he's pulled away, shut off again as you hear bits and pieces of the compliments Umemiya gives you about your fight, covering over his begrudging complaints.

...

Sitting down on the hard wooden floor, your arm move swiftly as you wrap the rough cotton tape around your knuckles, the healing ointment, sheer and oily, spreads underneath the bandages, cooling down the aching of you reddened knuckles. Like wise bandages are wrapped around your waist and knees from the less graceful falls of earlier.

There's a slight humming of birds that twiddles in from the open windows, cooler air breezing through the house as the sun sets in warm oranges outside. Beside you, Sugishita sits quietly, eyebrows still furrowed as he tries to hide his struggle, unable to wrap the bandages around his left knuckles.

It's hard to ignore him when he's aggressively huffing beside you, his long legs sprawled out forward and his again- very sharp shark like teeth, gnaw at the fraying ends of the sports bandages.

It's so tempting to study his face... Really, teeth that sharp make his pretty brown eyes stand out. Fierceness from his dark eyebrows as his brown eyes are encapsulated from his dark silky-smooth hair. The yellow light peeking through the window shines on parts of his raven hair, reflecting gorgeous tones of dark blue as he blinks. If you could just get a closer look at his long eyelashes too-

Oh no. Now you've been staring too long.

He grunts and growls and sharply turns his head.

And now you're the focus of those charming brown eyes.

"What."

Oh my goodness. He speaks.

"I- Uh- Did you... Want help?"

He huffs, and for a second you panic, thinking the worst, that you've offended him and pissed him off.

"Sure... I guess." He chokes out, shifting his head away quickly too look out elsewhere. Did you embarrass him?

Oh, but be quick now, you're losing your chance [Name]. Wasting no time, you scoot yourself in towards him, closing the space between you two until your knees are just barely scrapping each other.

He's still looking out the window, and his stupidly elegant hair is too long, blocking you from reading his expression as it tumbles past his sharp nose. A short sniff of some sort of distain you guess, as you tap his hand in warning.

Grabbing it gently, you unroll the mess of bandages he had made before. The ointment now all messy and sticking to your hands as you toss the wettened bandaids.

His hands are very smooth...

Grabbing the box of supplies, you try not to focus on how long and nimble his fingers are. Trying, well, attempting to focus instead on spreading the healing cream between his... Very, smooth knuckles and the tips of his fingers. His nails are also well kept, but the only part of it that was unsightly, yet beautiful, was the dried paled parts of his first two knuckles. Calloused white and paler then the rest of his hand, there's evidence of previous scrap ups that remained permanently. It's pretty, you think, and a trophy of his personality.

"Tell me if it's uncomfortable alright? This sort of cream works better when it's massaged in..." You murmur, lifting your head up as his striking eyes cast against yours.

God, he made it so hard to look directly at him.

"It's... Fine. Do whatever. Tch." He bleats out, eyebrows again furrowing as he looks at you.

As you take to palming the fingers on his hand, spreading the ointment, you fail to notice the slight undeniable tint of pink that shades his high cheekbones, as he stares at you, softening his gaze.

The awkward seconds of silence between his curt response doesn't last long, as he clears his throat and grunts again,

"Your... Fighting earlier. It was... Good."

"Thank you, I tried, to um- Well to make you think, quite honestly", you take care to mind the reddened parts of his arms, scrapped up from the final fall.

"You're not too bad yourself," to which you can already tell he's smiling cockily too,

"What was it? The fast fists thingy"

"Oh that? It was wing chun! You know, it's actually really useful in fighting... The person who made it was this Buddhist monk named Ng Mui who actually was a women! It's a very extricating story actually! Her story on developing the style caused for it being recommended by Bruce Lee... oh, wait I'm blabbing all over again... Sorry!" stammering out, your hands stop as you furrow your face in embarrassment.

His right hand, delicately, taps on your hands too continue, as he speaks,

"No, continue. I want to know."

"Really?..." Now your head has turned up, your other hand blindly grasping around on the ground for the bandaging tape as you lock eyes.

He looks at you in this strange, angry yet longing way, his eyebrows are furrowed, and he seems pissed off, but his eyes. Oh, his eyes. Their locked in on you with this cute peaked interest, shining as you speak. This time, you take notice of his soft pinkened cheeks and the nervousness of his body language.

So, you continue speaking. Wrapping his hands thoughtfully as you retell the history of your fighting style. Recounting the learnings and teachings, explaining why you thought Umemiya even chose you too spar with him. Which he grunts too exasperatedly.

By the time you've finished completely bandaging his sores, you've sat crossed from him, glancing up and down anywhere but his face.

"I hope I didn't bore you through that... I just thought, you'd like to understand why Umemiya made me spar with you. I swear I wasn't trying to steal him away from you or anything!"

Sugishita scoffs a bit, flicking his head to the side as his hair falls away from his face.

"Tch, don't apologize. I don't care. I like your talking."

"Are you? Sure?... I swear I'm not trying to earn brownie points with him. It's not a goal of mine... Honestly, he makes me sort of nervous andalsoI'mnotsureifhe'evenlikesme- Mmph!"

Mid-croaked speech, Sugishita huffs another sigh, pushing his hair back from his face. Leaning in quick, pressing against your lips, opened. Sweet, short, and shocking.

"I- Oh my god- Wow. Um-"

"Let's do this. All of this. Again." He's shocked himself off his feet now, fidgeting with his bandaged hands as he stomps towards the door. The night time sky, dark outside, the only lights coming from the building and the lamps outside.

Turning his head, one quick glance more, he mumbles through his blushed face.

"Your cute. Stop worrying about it. See you..."

Before you able to scramble to your feet he's scrunched himself over and angrily stomped his way all the way across the street.

"Wait!- What?!-"

You hear the angry slam of the gate.

Touching your lips, there's a slight tang of metal as you run your tongue over where his lips had been. Excruciatingly hot, your whole face becomes.

But now there's a slight nip of blood, where his little vampiric teeth had accidently scrapped.

TOGAME JO (aikido + kung fu)

"You'll wait for me, won't you Kami-chan?"

"Mmm... Maybe. If you remember to come back for me" he teases, grinning his long feline smile as he looks down at you through his shaggy mullet. Black hair dancing softly with the light breeze as fireworks blare up above.

He's slumped over the wooden railing of the arched bridge, gazing out at the red Torii gates as the wood creaked. A small paper bowl dawned Mitarashi Mochi, steaming hot from the vendor as the sticky sweet soy sauce glazed over it glowed under the flickering fireworks.

Flashes of red, greens, and yellows echo above. As you gaze at him, taking in his striking soft lazed eyes. His silly grin molding into a frown as he raises a brow.

"Hmm? What's wrong Tori? Why aren't you responding?", he seems so unbothered by your moving. If only you could tell him, it was him that was distracting you.

"It's just that... Well, what if you forget me?" you mumble, stuffing your face into your sweaters sleeves as you curled on top of the wood.

You don't have to look at him to feel his eyes narrow in some sort of strange annoyance.

"I won't. Even I know better than that [Name]. We've been friends for long enough, haven't we?" Leaning forward, creaking noises barely mix with the loud cacophony of the fireworks.

He stares at the patterned lights of a red heart. The sparks floating away like fairies as they disappear.

You could sit in this moment forever. Soak in the fainting scent of his hair, the boring old public bath soaps mixed with his own strange, food embedded aroma. Something from his love of festivals you had always noticed.

Luminated underneath the sky, his green eyes held sparks of such vibrant color. From the straight, dark gaze he held for a moment, he turned, grabbing your hand with one of his own, grabbing what was left of the mochi with his other, as he looked at you, deeply,

"I'll remember you. So, write to me while you're gone, won't you?"

Lost in his darkened gaze, you only nod, smiling meekly as his hand closes into yours.

It's cold. Very, very, cold.

He's always had cold hands. When he stands up straight, he pulls you in by his side, your hand warming up to his, heat rushing through your finger tips as he palms the front of your hand. Running over the knuckles hardened from your several brawls.

"Come on' at least let me bet ya' one more time before you leave Tori"

With that, the mood blazes a little more, eliciting a giggle from you as he grins and jogs the both of you towards the large, opened sumo mats. Left open for freelancing competitors.

When he lets go of you, it's a lot more noticeably cold. A choke of air left loose from your throat as you reel your hand back. Desperately holding against the urge to grab again at his empty hand. Watching as he turns his back, throwing away the mochi, clueless.

Ducking under the flexing ropes, you both enter, cracking knuckles, stretching legs, grinning childishly.

"I'll get you this time Jo!" Teasing, you bounce on your heels, cart wheeling towards him.

"We'll see about it [Name]... I've been beating you since we were babies, maybe you'll win this time..." His baritone voice drags out the last syllable, watching knowingly as your eye twitches from his annoyance.

"I'll beat you and then send you to the States instead of me Kami-chan!"

"Mmm, we'll see doll"

He hopes you don't notice the way he's jaw is latched shut. The way his eyebrows furrow in annoyance. And especially not the way small crystalline tears dabble his pretty green eyes you so adored.

Realizing that you're leaving him.

...

"I'll be home soon Kami. Do you still remember me?" - Tori

“Ohhh Kame-chan! Kame-chan, Kame-chan! Look what I brought! Ume-chan said the bakery down in their precinct had extras so I brought home mochi!” Choji giggles in playful delight as he jumps up and down.

Watching as his friend crumples a small piece of paper into his palm. Togame takes to it quickly as he shoves it deep inside his Shishitoren jacket. He tilts his head.

...Kame-chan never hides secrets from him. And he certainly had no reason to start now.

"Hmm~? What's that Kame-chan? What is it! It looked important! Was it from Sakura-chan? Ooo, I haven't seen him in forever! I wonder what he's up too-"

"It's... Nothing Choji. Leave it. This isn't for you to see anyways." Togame mumbles, shifting uncomfortably onto one of his wooden sandals. Eyes following off to the side, finding interest in the sky instead of his friend. Shuffling something in his pocket, digging deep into it; indenting the shape of some sort of crumbling.

He was ruining the note!

"Hey! Wait, wait, wait! Kame-chan what's on the notee?! I wanna' know! Give it here! You'll ruin it!" pouting, Choji jumps forward, yanking at the orange letterman jacket. Pulling at Togame's wrists as he tried to reach for the crumbled paper.

"Wait Choji- Hey!-"

Successfully wrestling the note out of his friend's grasp he fumbles over the folded edges, lifting the note up in triumph as he grins and reads,

"I'll be home soon Kami!- Tori, Oof!"

Only to get plundered to the hard concrete rooftop of building.

'Kame-chann! Ow... That hurt! What was that for?!"

"You... Dumbass. That note has nothing important... Leave it alone would ya'..." Furrowing his brows, the emeralds of his eyes narrow as he glares at the folded-out letter in Choji's hand. The last letter of your signature just barely peeking out in a soft stroke of pen.

"It's clearly very~ important if your hiding it from me Kame-chan! Who is it? Who is it? You've never hid secrets before! Ooo... I wonder, is it a lover do you have someone you like Kame-chan? OhwowIcan'timagine-"

"It's not my lover dumbass! It's... From someone. I guess..." Togame groans in exhaustion, watching Choji through colored lenses as he jumps giggling up and down. Bouncing on the fronts of his feet like a little child. All the fanfare as his eyes glow in anticipation, staring deep into his lazed eyes.

Togame swears he felt his eyebrow twitch,

"It's... From an old childhood friend. Okay? Ya' done yet?"

He should of hid that note quicker.

"Oh?! Oh!! Kame-chan has a pen pal! Woahh... Wait, is it that one girl from your old secondary school?! Kame-chan you've got to tell me more than that!" Now he's circling him like a vulture. Tugging on the whites of his sleeve as he twirls in circles around him, all the energy in the world.

Choji would ring this opportunity out of Togame if it was the last thing he did.

"... It is them... I guess. But keep your mouth quiet dumbass. We didn't end on good terms last time around... Anyways, I haven't seen them or talked to them since that letter..." huffing, Togame bends his knees, laying flat on the ground as he put his arms behind. Staring up into the clear sky as he traced over the clouds. Suspiciously heart shaped and fluffy.

"Wahh~... But then doesn't that mean this is your chance to make it up to them?", Choji takes the time out of his boundless energy to plop down beside the tall, clearly saddened man, as he turns and stares. Unblinking.

"Hahh?! Are you kidding me? No thanks... We haven't seen each other in forever. It's stupid... I got all angry and annoyed after they left. I stopped answering their texts and when they tried sending letters I... Just. Couldn't"

A breeze blows a strange chill down Togame's spine.

When he turns to look at Choji, fearing the silence, his face is met with the very, very, chilled and deadly hands of Choji Tomiyama.

His friend had latched his eyes opened, inches away from Togame as he grinned, emotionless. Unfazed. Blankly.

Petrified, Togame forces himself to stare back, eyes opened in near heart attack.

"If you're going to be such a wimp about it. Then I'll make it happen. Myself."

The air stills.

.

.

.

"Haha! Gotcha'! Was that good? That was my pep talk! Ume-chan said good leaders know how to encourage their right hands! Didya' get the message Kami-chan?"

Togame feels his heart skip a beat as the hands gripped tightly over his cheeks let loose as Choji jumps to his feet spontaneously.

"Yeahh... Sure Choji... Uh huh." Recovering from his near shock, he takes the hand extended out towards him.

"It's okay to be scared Kami-chan! All of us are at some point! But sometimes you've got to learn to face your fears head on! You've got me, Sakura-chan, and all of Shishitoren holding you up on your back anyways! Trust in us! We're here for you and your sad romance!"

"There is no sad romance! Ohhh... Never mind"

"Come on Kame-chan! Let's enjoy this mochi before it goes cold. Maybe that'll get your mind off things for a bit!"

Letting out a cold hard sigh of frustration, he follows behind the bumbling child. Watching as Choji leaps through the doors, never looking back. Knowing full well that he'd follow.

It reminds him of how you'd tail behind him.

Back when you two were just friends.

...

When the sky turns bleak in darkness, Choji hums a lullaby as he waits outside the train station, being the only one within radius of the neighborhood Togame lived in.

Scrolling absentminded on his phone, he waits for the intercom to stop it's announcement.

"Arriving, Makochi Station. All passengers may now exit"

Flicking his phone off, he tucks it into his jacket, still having not changed since his meeting with the dark raven haired man.

A devilish grin adorns his face as he zeros in on the person exiting the train. Two large luggage cases trailing behind their person as the curl up the scarf rung over their neck.

Skipping up to them, his grin widens.

"Hiya! Your Tori-chan aren't cha'? Ooo, it's so nice to finally meet you! I'm Choji Tomimiya! Are you lost?"

He leaves you no time to soak in the shock of the name he calls you by.

Watching you keenly as your eyes widen in surprise, not expecting the greeting; your cheeks-stained light pink from the cold of the night. Immediately going into a familiar praying mantis stance. Thumbs and palms folded like knives as you step back cautiously.

"Now hold on! I don't mean harm! I'm Kame-chan's friend! Oh wait- That doesn't help... Togame's friend!"

His eyes gleam mischievously as he watches your eyes widen even more, a gasp puffing from your lips as he clasps his hands together. Rubbing them together like a pesky fly as he skips.

"You and I have so much to talk about!"

The poor, unsuspecting you.

...

When Togame arrives in the dark, gloomy lit room of The Ori his subconsciousness immediately perks up to the appearance of someone, familiar, as their back turned to meet him.

“Hi. Kame-chan”

Your voice has a newfound bitterness he’s not used to, although it was expected. In the back of his mind, he could feel a twitch snap its way up his spine as his eye winced.

When you have fully faced him, a coldness wallowed your eyes. Your lips pressed thin against each other as he watched your shoulders stiffen. An uncomfortable silence crowding the both of you in.

For a while, it seemed like neither of you were going to move. Watching each other blankly as your fists closed. Palming inwards as white crescent shaped imprints were left from your nails.

“Hi. Kame-chan.”

Shit.

This was all Choji’s idea wasn’t it.

Nothing could explain the way you looked at him. Something begging for him in shame.

“Ah, hello. [Name]."

Anxiety bubbles up in his stomach in rippling waves. Choking down the pitiful tears that bubbled up in his stomach, taking a step forward, he watched as your brow twitches.

"So, are you going to explain yourself? Have anything to say to the person you ghosted for months?" Bitter is your voice as it rise, angry, wrathful stomps, following step by step, until your close enough to punch him.

Or even kiss him.

But he doesn't need to know that.

"Aha.. Ha. Listenn [Name], I. A lot of things happened while you were gone, I met new people, had new things to take care of... I'm sor-"

"If you were sorry, you would have replied. You would have answered my letters. You should have answered them."

And now you've backed up, popping your knuckles as you snicker, mocking him as you glared.

"What, were you too awestruck by your new little best friend that you forgot me Kame-chan?"

How much had Choji told you? Anyway, he was really going to kill him one way or another. If he could get past you first.

"Hey. Eyes here Togame Jo. I don't take shitty emotional outrages lightly turtle head. I don't give a damn if you've join some sort of gang or what not, but if you've got a problem with me, we'll fight it out like we've always done" Twisting your neck, cracks resound, bouncing up and down as you take deep breaths, slowing down your racing heart.

Tradition would have it, that whenever you were arguing, as children do, your parents would force the both of you into a padded garage, the mats firm but cushioned as they'd demand you to fix your issues through regulated fights.

For the both of you, this had always been the way fights were fixed. Nothing staged, no parades, no bitter tears, just simple, very simple, rough housing.

It was always natural to you, finding your fix in taking out your anger in the punches, blocks, hard slams onto the mats with him. The five year old versions of you and Togame being snotty emotional babies, taking out your frustrations with tactless takedowns and silly punches.

He doesn't stop to think as he grins, bittersweet. And Togame thinks about how pretty you look underneath even the horrible yellow dim lights of the Ori's theatre stage.

Kicking off the sandals below him, digging the palms of his feet into the cracked wood of the stage, his smile widens. Lazy doe eyes perking up at you, reeling you in, through shaded yellow glasses. Previous sadness dissipating as he watches you bounce, playfully.

That's right, it had always just been you two and your silly little fights, hadn't it. There really was no reason he should have been scared.

Aiming for your leg he ducks, sweeping as you jump over. Swaying like a snake as your hands lift and tuck.

Now you grin too, a nostalgic feeling bubbling in your heart as you watch his black hair flair. Beautiful as he grapples for you, aiming closer and closer.

It really was so hard to be angry at someone as beautiful as him. The next time he aimed for you, you barreled, grabbing at his arm as you throttled him over.

His eyes widen in the split of the second your faces align, watching as his body glides over yours in a swift throw.

God, he admired the way you grinned and chuckled as his body crashed to the wooden floor.

A threatening crack left in the imprint of the stage.

His back was aching.

But for some reason, he was thrilled. No, he knew why. You could see it, as he grunted up from the floor, you backed, still swaying as you pounce towards him. Grappling for his limbs as he backed and tried to his own throw.

For minutes, you two grappled at each other, tiring yourselves out as he crouched lower and lower, as you yanked quicker and stronger.

Fiery passion dancing in unseen ways between the quick glances. Your eyes catching each other's as short looks found their way into your messy brawls. Just like little kids again, you both grinning like maniacs, little children, forgetting the whole reason behind your dirtied fists, crappy stage, and labored breaths.

When it had felt like hours, and the wood planks of the stage had started to tilt under the pressure of your heavy body slams, only then did you both pause to catch your breath. Short, raspy catches of air as your eyes locked.

And the moment holds. Bent over, hands on knees, as he looks at you, hair disheveled and little hair tie lost somewhere in the midst, his bright green eyes glowing brightly as he stares. Watching your hair, splayed out and unkept, clothes dirtied with patches of dirt. Still with a determined look of fierceness held on your gaze. Moment holding, before you both leap at each other, tangling arms and legs.

It takes even longer, as you both tumble to the floor, breaths quickening as limbs lace around each other, trying to find an opening to throw. Rolling around, dirty and grim bulking over each others clothes, as the floor below threatens to give.

When you finally give, throwing your head onto his, knocking the breath out of him as he one final breath gives leeway.

"Ow! Damn it-..."

He glares, your legs crossed over each other as he lays up, propped on his shoulders below you.

You blink.

He blinks.

And suddenly, a quiet rumble erupts, and your both giggling as you stumble over him, lying next to him. Crazed, pure psychotic laughter as your hands cover your face shielding from the light.

He's slow, deep looming tone, echos across the walls as he grins, looking up at the ceiling, eyes droopy as he turns.

"... I, missed you, Tori" This time, you're sure you heard a choked back sob.

"Wait- Hey now... Wait, don't get all sappy on me Togame Jo!" Alarmed, you turn, propping up on one elbow as you clasp your calloused hand at his cheek.

Watching as a tear slides down his cheek.

"...Kami-chan... Are you alright?"

He doesn't reply. Sitting there, watching your dolled face, anxious with worry as you hold his cheek. Everything felt warm, inviting, exciting. And he didn't want it to leave.

"Can we, stay like this?..."

Without hesitation, or need for explanation,

"Of course. Of course we can Kami"

So, you lay back down, staring up at the ceiling looking that the lights as they start to flicker. Wondering whatever happened to the best friend you knew as lazed and cool. It doesn't take long before you hear the shuffling of Togame, long limbed as the beast he is, scooting closer.

The softness of an orange coat floats over you, draping elegantly as you let out a deep sigh.

He looks at you, smiling, body aching, knees giving out, as he turns, facing you, taking in your details as the butterflies in his heart explode like burning pain.

He lifts the orange coat, blackened by design ink and dirt that coats its outside, as he tucks you in.

"I'm sorry"

He thinks.

As he turns upwards, laying on his own arm, thinking about how the wood seemed even brighter than the mornings blue sky.

...

"Woah dude... What was that about? Didja' see that boss? That was crazy!..." Kanuma squeaks, hiding behind his puffed out sleeves as he whimpers behind the wooden door.

"Shhh! Shh! They're gonna hear us if you don't shudd'up idiot!" Arima whispers -yelling through his teeth- trying to peak over the top of his friend.

"Woahh... He did it! He did it! Kame-chan talked to his crush!" A small, fluffy blonde hair boy peaks over the top of the two eavesdropping rats. Pumping up his fists in cheer as he grins maniacally.

"Wait- What? Boss that's Togames crush?! That's crazy... There's no way!" Almost fearful, Kanuma ducks behind the wall.

"No, it totally is guys...! When I talked to them yesterday, they told me about how they used to like him when they were kids... Just look at them. Their totallyy in love!~" The blonde boy snickers, sticking out his tongue at his friend as he watched the lover birds sleep.

Trying to peak again, Kanuma looks over Choji's head, squinting at the two lying forms. A sudden twitching motion coming from Togame as his eyes flicker, turning slowly to the sound of rustling clothes.

"... Uh oh! I think he noticed us guys! Scatter! Kame-chan's gonna kill us if he knows we were eavesdropping" Choji tip toes out of the line of sight as he gives a closed eye smile. Putting up a finger as he motions to be quiet. Scampering off with the two mischievous members tailing close behind, giggling like children again.

Togame Jo would not be hearing the end of it any time soon.

KAJI REN (capoeria (e.g of reader (cw: indecency) MANGA SPOILERS

Kaji Ren hates stupid people.

He hates stupid people with an ego even more so.

Thinking about it makes him even more ticked off, which doesn't help the crowd he's with at all.

There are bruises traced all over his face, purple as they start to darken. His mouth is parched, his bottom lip is busted and bleeding slightly as the iron taste touches his tongue. A sharp iron taste lacing itself in his mouth as he wipes the blood pouring out the scraps on his face and skin.

Stuck between two boys, who seem quite obviously ages older than him; cornered him towards the large jungle gym. His back pressing up slowly against the cold metal bars. Their eyes preying as they snickered, cracking their knuckles in viciousness. Having already landed harsh, unfair blows at his back and chest. His wrists ached from where they had iron gripped at, leaving red marks. His legs wobbled slightly as he backed, he was sure he could feel more bruises forming.

"Where's your little protector now Kaji? You're not all that scary without Hiragi anymore are ya' punk", the taller of the two boys, spits, getting his saliva all over the wood chips decorating the floor.

Really, Kaji Ren can't stand nasty little idiots like him. Pieces of the cocky bastards' spit got over his cheek, gross and slimy as his eyes narrow. Swiping at the disgusting remanence with his school uniforms sleeve, it stains the cuffs.

Spitting back, "Get the hell away from me moron." Kaji tries to duck underneath the two boys.

Only, behind them were several other upper classmen, all dressed in a strange coat printed with some design of a blacked-out snake, curling in on itself. The logo of their gang he guesses. Damn it, as he tries to swerve away from the group of teens the more they close in. His headphones had already been off as they had died hours ago, having forgotten to charge them before heading out, much to his annoyance.

Hiragi had told him to contain his anger, tune out the dumb people with his headphones and music, hold his tongue from starting fights with lolipops and sweets to chew on. Yet, his headphones would be no help and there were far too many people trying to instigate with him for him not to start a fight. Especially when his body was already battered and bruising as he tried to stand up right.

The shorter of the boys, freckle face and yellow hair, perked up, inching closer as he grabbed at Kaji's collar.

"What happened little boy? Where's all that bark now huh??- Guess those rumors your short temper were all yap huh. Come on now! Show us your rage, your anger." Lifting him up in the air, Kaji grimaces, closing his fists tight as he tries to struggle loose. Suspended in air, moments last.

A strong back handed fist landing the boys nose as he drops down and back.

"Ow- Fuck! You damn brat!" Blood leaks from the boys nose, a strange joint sticking out as he covers his nose. Eyes widening at the awkward angle it held.

"Fucking! Damn it don't just stand there! Get that fucking dog in a cage!"

Several of the members jump at the command, charging at the white hair boy with bats in hand. Closed fists, weapons of wood, and blood thirsty looks on their face as they push past the wounded teen.

Twisting his body he launches into the air, careful to hold onto his headphones as he lands, kicking members from every side.

His knuckles flame and burn as he lands blows, screaming bloody murder, words muffled; hell, if he knows what he's saying. His body manipulates like a ballet, twisting and spinning as he jumps to dodge and throws with full intent. Every muscle in his body aching as his legs collide with the onslaught of members. Kicks sending back several at a time as he sweeps below. Ducking under one before launching up to round house another.

The air gets colder the longer he stays outside. It's almost completely black when the streetlights turn on. Everyone tucked away in their homes.

Out of nowhere a punch connects with his jaw, sending up sideways.

Standing up, he wobbles, trying to get back his vision at his attacker(s). His jaw is stinging with numbing pain; almost broken he thinks. But it's nothing he hasn't had before.

Limping, his back curves to a straight stand, trying to clasp back his fists. A fatigue enveloping him as he tries to stand. Only to have someone yank him from behind, strong and quick as he lands on the wooden chips of the playground. His coat flaying off him with the attacker. A scream releasing from his lips as pieces poke sharply into his back.

"Damn it..."

His throat hurts from violent pain, labored breathing leaving him as he tries to calm himself.

1...

2...

3...

Everything fades. Every little breath he counts as he tries to stop the blurring of his eyes, widened in fear as the blackened shadows approach him.

He can't lose it again.

Where are they? Where are the headphones? His lollipops even? He can't feel anything.

Where are they?

The headphones. Their gone, they're not on his neck, his eyes blur even more, eyebrows raising as he frantically stands, stumbling as he grips around his neck, looking for them.

"Looking for this little boy?" The taller teen steps forward, headphones, pale white, in hand as he sneers.

"Give. Those. Back. You fucking moron!"

Prancing around him, dancing with a sing song-y voice, the boy taunts,

"Come and get em' doggy"

Fuck. He can't see, everything is blacking out, he can't lose them. Not now, not yet, Hiragi didn't give him those precious headphones just for them to be taken away.

He couldn't disappoint Hiragi like this. Not like this. Anything but the headphones. Anything but that pitch blackness and the bodies that would pile up when he woke.

It's too late, he's already losing control of himself. He can't even feel his arms anymore. He feels dazed, let lose. Black dots stabbing at his vision as the last of the men trail in, crouched low as they sneer and snicker. Taunting. Enticing. Looking down.

On him.

What would Hiragi think? Kaji apologizes in his head. Feeling the last of his consciousness fading away as his muscles relax.

"Sorry... Hiragi, sir..."

For a second the world slows as he tilts, falling lightly. It's almost peaceful.

.

.

.

"Waitt-!!"

"Stay alive dude! You've got this, hold on!"

Flashes of clothing appear. A sudden figure leaping towards the rest of the gang, fists tight as they move in weird dissonance. Their legs bent and swaying like a snake.

It wakes Kaji.

Whoever they were, they didn't stop to check if he was still awake. Or if his legs were still holding up him. They kept bouncing up and down, flairs of all sorts, cartwheels and tornado kicks combined.

They moved like a dance, cutting off each member slowly as they jumped and leaped. Taking the stage as they landed kicks across every member. Bodies dropping one by one as each kick and punch landed.

Violent pulses of coughs left from their victims, short, asphyxiated breaths. His legs gave out watching them. Vision returning slowly in color as they watched the way the darkened figure danced. It felt like anything but a fight, much more graceful than his. It felt staged, long lasting, as they took out men with their long loose limbs. The power felt almost raw, beautiful, but untamed and violent in a way even he could understand.

Until finally, the very last member stood. The very boy that had taken his headphones off. Quaking in fear as his knees buckled, hands held high as he tried to run.

"Hey! Come back here dummy! Why are you so scared? I'm not done yet!" Grinning, you launch upwards, flipping dramatically as you land. Cascading down like a little fairy as you smile in a sadistic glee.

Pinpoint on his back, leg first.

His head hitting the floor in a disgusting, awestruck crack.

“… Uh oh. Is he alright?! Shoot, I didn't kill him did I...? Shit” you mutter under your breath.

Despite your word a devilish smile entertained your face. It was almost horrific the way you sat on the poor boy's back.

Kaji watches you sit in silence for minutes muttering under your breath before you snap back to reality. Jumping up spontaneously; surprising Kaji as he sits up right, before you yank out the white headphones, inspecting them.

Giving a little kick at the bodies arm, you reach out with your empty hand, feeling for the certain beat of his heart with your two fingers. Inspecting the pulse as you hummed, strangely unbothered.

When you were satisfied, a grin left of your face from where Kaji could see, you skipped towards him. Headphones in hand you bent down all bubbly as you smiled and offered him a lending hand.

"Hiya! Are you okay dude? Was a bit worried back there to be honest! I thought you died or something..." A nervous chuckle left your, very pretty lips, Kaji noticed, hyper focused on the way they moved as you went on bumbling,

"Do you need... Bandages? Water?... Does it hurt a lot?"

Something about the way you spoke held him in a weird trance. You were mesmerizing. Maybe it wasn't even just the way you spoke, but the way you looked. The way you acted. Maybe even, especially the way you completely saved him from months of regret and wallowing in his own self pity. Something about the way you fought and the way you were looking over his face and knuckles. Eyes keen on his bruises that decorated his cheeks made his face feel warm.

There was an unfamilar fuzzy feeling bubbling in his stomach. Was this... Anxiety? Now? It was weird. It didn't feel exactly like times before. But still, he felt something that was new and foreign. Something that he wasn't sure he enjoyed.

Your eyes are glued to his knuckles next, turning over his hands to inspect his palms, and he notices the way your eyes furrow and you continue to mutter under your breath.

Now he just feels like a creep-

"I- Um- H-hey, let go of me!! It's nothing I swear- I'm used to it by this point! -"

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt you any less! Don't say things like that! Trust me, I've had my fair share of fights too... Getting treatment makes the recovery process easier than you think!"

"But-" He starts.

"Shut up! Nope. Be quiet! Here, take this, we'll get you something for the bruises and then I guess we can also repair these-" holding out your hand, you hand him back the headphones. This time, their scrapped and chipped by the sides, only noticeable if you looked closely. But still. It hurt Kaji a little to see them even remotely damaged. What sort of person was he to ruin Hiragi's gift like that?

Not noticing his little frown and the way he narrows his grey eyes to squint at the damages, you pocket out a couple hundred yen. Handing him the money as you chuckle, watching his face flush pink underneath the moonlight.

His eyes dart shyly elsewhere you could see the way his cheeks puffed slightly as he avoided your gaze. Sweetly, they looked absolutely squishable, it took everything not to reach out and grab.

"Hey! [Name]! Where are you ya' damn brat...! My friends are waiting and I am not having your family yell at me for leaving you out here in the dark!"

Shit-

"Coming! I'm coming! Hold on!-" turning your head quickly towards the voice your eyes shock open. Looking back, you smile quickly at Kaji, whose head is tilted, curious as he stares.

"Sorry I gotta' go pretty boy! See you around?... Till next time!"

Running away quickly waving your hand high above the air, flickers of the moonlight glows across your air as it reflects off. Before he blinks you've run off as fast as you appeared.

Leaving him confused, flushed red as his stammers a breath.

Looking down at the wad of yen in his hand, he notices a small tab, a sticker. The image of a white rabbit, a popular character that the girls in his year always had merch of. Its eyes looked almost soulless, staring back at him with its little x-cross shaped mouth.

"Cute..."

He thought. The blush on his cheeks growing redder as he stood in the light, staring at the gift left by his little savior. He should have asked for your name...

Peeling the paper off its smooth backing, he sticks it in the middle of his headphones, right center as it covered over the most noticeable of the scratches.

Man, he really wished he had asked for your name now.

...

"Alrrrright Kaji sir! Firrrst yearrrs are surrveying the norrrth homes! Grrrandma Sato rrreporrted her daughterr was missing sir! Let's search around the marrrkets arrea! Gram'ma said she was sent over therrre last." Enomoto yells, fiercely as he jabs a finger towards the pastry stores up ahead.

A smell of fresh bread hints itself in the air. Motioning to Kusumi with a few quick words, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket he nods. Kaji scampers off quickly as he sighs, adjusting his headphones. Sucking hard on a pink lolipop, his lips pop slightly as he runs.

The old women lost her poor baby cat every other day. Not to confuse the way she described her daughter, the animal in her possession was indeed a white feline.

On days where patrol was slow, and the only calling for Kaji was the needing for his and Bofurin's athletic prowess, he'd find himself walking straight past that park.

Looking longingly as he scoffs, noticing the way the wooden chips dipped softly, just barely noticeable, right next to the metal bars of the big jungle gym.

If it wasn't for the fact he had a job to do, and people he'd much rather not disappoint, he'd find a seat, right on the very tip of those cold metal bars as he dangled his legs over. Turning up his music to a certain lovecore playlist replaying that very night back in his head over and over. Humming slightly to some overseas American artist, Laufey.

He was never a fan of soft lullaby songs, all pathetically whimsical as they sang of love and possibilities.

But, months after that very scramble, he'd found a couple pragmatic online posts about the white little rabbit, stickered onto his headphones. Apparently, the girls who loved the so-called mascot rabbit 'Miffy' were systematically linked to artists associated with Laufey or lovecore.

As much as he'd love the posts to be proven wrong, the playlists always did reminded him of his first love.

He'd always spend the time, staring down at the floor, closing his eyes as music blasted, thinking about how your hands had been so very warm against his own. How bright you giggled as you were nervous, and how pretty your hair looked against the moonlight.

Kaji, oh dear captain of his year, was head over heels for a person he'd only met once.

And by gods, was it horribly embarrassing.

Slowing down from his jog, Kaji stares at the park. Pausing for a quick minute,

"It's just for a quick breath" He thinks.

His cheeks puff slightly at his amusing thought, slight tint of pink as he shakes his head angrily. Huffing a breath of annoyance, as he thinks;

Patrol comes first.

Out of the corner of his eye, mid thought, there comes the shine of something white. A small instant flash as the figure bounces across the wooden chips onto the small road.

"Darn it... There she is"

It doesn't take a second longer, as Kaji runs towards the movement. Watching the little naughty cat pounce across the road. Stopping to look back and give a teasing stick of the tongue. Damn Grandma, she spoiled this cat way too much.

Running after Risa, the flicker of her tail tucks as she ducks under stalls and their produce stands, scampering across the market place.

"Hey! Come back here damn it!"

Tripping over loose rock, he runs to catch up with the slimy rascal. Together as they duck under trashbins and banners, flipping over buildings as he yells. Just a few steps short as Risa bends underneath some bridge, skittering to a stop as Kai jumps down. Only for her to jump right back up as she pause once more, blinking innocently as she mews and sits pretty and perched. Kaji's sure he seems like a maniac now. He's yelling at the stupid cat as if it'll slow down, watching as he finally climbs up onto the bridges railings, nearly tripping again as he finally catches up to Risa behind a darkened part of the neighborhood.

A neighbor of the lower tax bracket, as litter is scattered on the floor, and a few abandoned houses and an amassed amount of weeds and strangling plants left alone as he watches the pearl cat finally sit still. Stuck right in front of him as she licks her paw, glancing at him in a sneering amuse he swears is an insult about his intelligence.

Mewling all sweet and baby-like, she beckons him to come closer. Watching him slowly crotched, annoyingly scoff as he rips open another lolipop. Having lost his previous one in the chase.

It's sour flavor of lemon pinches his tongue's tastebuds, souring his expression more as he starts to stomp fiercely towards the mocking kitten.

"Hey!... Look dude! A white cat! Aren't those like, superrr expensive?" a voice calls out, the small of a head of hair peeking overtop the overgrown weeds. A snicker comes with, and before Kaji and let out another tsk of annoyance, a group of guys about his age pops out behind the tall grasses.

One by one teens, Kaji guesses third years, stampeded towards Risa, gossiping in loud tones as they crouch, narrowing in on Risa.

He doesn't like the way they look at the cat, eyes preying in on her white fur like a prize, like predators.

"I'm sure it'll make for some good cash guys..."

"Hell yeah it will! Senior folk go crazy for cats this colo..-"

"Hey! What do you guys think you're doing?!" suddenly, another voice chimes in, it sounds... Almost familiar to him.

He takes the surprise of the guys to his advantage, sweeping up Risa in a quick swift motion.

She yowls in protest, echoing across the fields. Kaji's suddenly grateful he still has his headphones on, the muffling feature in full works.

Glaring at the guys, flashes of angry shouts come as they run towards him. Based on their reactions, he's almost certain they're yelling at him for stealing their cash cow-

Cash cat?-

Kaji doesn't get the chance to think before he grips his arms tightly around the soft kitty. Careful not to hurt her as he dodges out of the way, trying to make a mad dash towards the Bofurn plaza.

There were better days and better times to pick a fight. Even Kaji could tell, especially when he was carrying a very fussy and prickly cat that was very keen on escaping.

Trying to turn his back, he fails to notice the sound of a whole body slamming into the dirt ground. Several more shouts erupting as some sort of flashy black shadow twirled and danced, kicking towards the older guys.

Before he's able to run far, someone grabs at the back of his hoodie, yanking him to the floor as Risa panic, hissing violently.

"Shit! Come here Risa-chan... Sorry-"

He's lifted and turned around as a punch collides with his face.

Crap.

In the brief last second, he somehow shakes free, taking the punch as he feels his lip bruising.

Scurrying backwards he sees his attacker holding Risa by the scuff of the neck, perking their lips outwards in a taunt.

Risa's claws are just short of reaching his face as she hisses in frustration, swinging wildly as her claws extend.

"Shoot... Damn it. The cat!" Whisper yelling underneath his breath, he pops off his headphones as he runs towards the attacker. Throwing raw punches towards his opponent while trying to carefully pick Risa back up.

Blows exchange as he tries to step in front of Risa, having been let down as the grip loosened. When Kaji had finally noticed the other attackers had been laying on the floor unmoving and a shadow was curb stomping them almost breathless, he yelled

"Hey damn it! What's taking you so long?! Help the cat!"

The figure whips around confused,

"Oh shi- Sorry! Didn't know there was still more!"

Giving a swift low kick to make sure the men were still unconscious the person joined, flipping wildly into cartwheels as their knees bent. Raw jagged movements left your body as you confused the man in front of you. Striking at key targets hitting the arteries that would stun him as you aimed.

Kaji once securing the pretty cat, joined, holding the cat in both arms as he spun as well, kicking sporadically.

Together you both danced around the man, mixing styles in sychrony as you paraded over the blood leaking out of noises and cuts. The attacker blocks over and over, lifting his hands up as he tries to run.

"Shit- Sorry! Sorry! Okay I get it! I'll leave!"

It doesn't take long for the coward of a man to run, legs wobbling as he quickly picks himself up, flipping you off as he runs.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, only for your eyes to shock open widely, searching for your partner in crime.

"Oh dude! Are you okay? You aren't hurt are you?"

As you inch towards the boy, you notice locks of silver hair, and a pair of headphones you had long looked for.

"Holy shi- your that pretty boy from the park!"

...

For Kaji, this coincidental moment felt like a whole years worth of voices silenced. When the shadow had disappeared from your face, his eyes widened, his cheeks flushed, and his grip on Risa loosened.

It was almost a miracle the cat hadn't tried to run off again.

You, you were there.

In front of him.

And this time you weren't fighting for his safety but had done it with him. Suddenly, he almost felt bashful. Embarrassed as he scuffled to his feet, mouth left open as he struggled to respond.

"Hi..."

Damn it Kaji Ren, that was absolutely moronic. His palms are sweaty, and he can feel Risa's fur sticking to it. He can tell his pupils are dilated as he hyperventilates. Staring at you in awe as replays what happened. Your beautiful flair kicks that had caught his attention, coming back to reel him in for more as he fought.

The chemistry you shared, the way your hair was disheveled even less than the last time, and the way your face had matured. Small features that had changed, indications of the time between when you guys had met.

A weird feeling bubbles in Kaji's stomach, turning and twisting in a way that made him confused. Did he want it to stop? Or was he just crazy?

Your eyes look even prettier in the sunset, with the scene of old dark houses shining against them. Your own face perks up curiously,

"Hey uh- Are you just gonna stare?..."

"I uh- Shit. Sorry, um yeah I am that guy... Ya' know... The one you saved last time" Shit, he thinks his voice cracked. Did it crack? Was he hallucinating again?

"No no I remember! I'm just surprised to see you on this part of town... I'm guessing by the uniform you joined Bofurin! Is the cat a neighbor's then?" A smile laces your lips as you inch closer, lifting your index finger to scratch underneath Risa's chin.

As you inchd, Kaji could feel his breath cut. A sharp cut of his unsteady breathing, as his whole body stiffened, almost too aware of how close you were to him.

It feels like hours watching you scratch at the cat in his arms. Right... The cat, not him. It's the cat your paying attention to.

Why is there a stingy sensation now? What is it with all these emotions. It's pissing him off. The weird bubbly feeling replacing itself with a weird giddiness and a hint of something he could only think was jealousy.

Of a cat? How stupid...

When you finish, you stand up straight, grinning even more brightly at the cute kitty time.

"Hey- If you need to return the cat now, how about I walk with you to your side of town? I feel like this meeting was just an absolute sign we were supposed to get to know each other!"

Clasping your hands together, Kaji's whole face erupts in a fierce red, a slow nod as he turns his head away, hiding shyly as his cheeks puff abnormally.

You could almost see the steam bubbling out of his ears.

"S-sure... But just to return the cat!" he babbles, trying to hide his warming ears as he shoves his headphones over his ears with one hand, struggling to put them on all the way.

"Hehe, if that's what you want!" You giggle, reaching out again to pet the sweet soft kitty in his arms. Reaching up once more to readjust his headphones.

All while Ms. Risa sleeps peacefully, and your hair brushes past Kaji's nose, warm hands clasping near the cuffs of his ears by accident as you push the headphones on fully. A glimpse of the bunny sticker showing itself to you as you do so.

A happiness boils inside your chest. Almost a sense of pride as you take notice how yours is the only decoration upon his grey headphones.

And how clean the sticker held up.

A soft smile lifts from his flushed face. Listening to your coos as Risa yawns. He chuckles to himself, thinking again about how awesome you were as you fought, as he timidly reaches out a pinkie. Shifting his grip on the cat as he moves.

Looking away quite obviously, he hooks his pinky with yours as you two walk.

Neither you nor him notice the flushing cheeks and the averted gazes as you hold pinkies.

Short and sweet contact, yet all the warmer as speckles of pink and red dances across your cheeks both.

...

"So, Kajiii whose the new perrrson?!" Enomoto yells, shaking Kaji violently as he spits accidently across his face. For the past hour, since the return of Kaji, his face had been stricken with uncontrollable fear. Thinking his captain had gotten lost.

Only to meet Kaji with a whole essay of questions.

'Yeah, yeah! Tell us Kaji!' A text message rings from Kusumi, his grin widening by the minute as he captures photos of Kaji's red flustered face.

"You neverrr said anything about your crrrush dude! This is crrrrazy! Did Hirrragi sir know about this?! Damn did you leave us out of it Kaji?!" Relentlessly Enomoto shakes, hands quivering at the thought of it all. Kaji Ren with a partner.

"S-Shuddap'! Their not a crush!! I just-"

"What's this I hear?! Kaji you have a crush now?!"

Shit.

Hiragi's face explodes as he drops the plant he holds. Umemiya following close behind as his face drops in horror.

For the plant or for Kaji, he doesn't know.

But he knows he's screwed for sure, looking over to the side of the balcony as you come towards him, smiling as you lift up a hand, showcasing the cute white bunny sticker sheets as you skip.

Maybe he is crushing. Just a little.

SPECIAL BREWS...

Tori-chan // Togame nicknames [reader] as Tori-chan as he views them as someone sweeter than him. Tori or Torii refers to the red gates found in Japanese Shinto shrines. It's a nice play on his monk like religious persona

Kami-chan // [Reader] refers to Togame as Kami as it means paper but also gods/divine beings. For reader and Togame I wanted to symbolize their relatiionship with small religious monikers. Reader also thinks of Togame being laid back and loose limbed like paper, which Kami can also mean!

Lovecore // I wanted to show how innocent and dreamy Kaji's love was. In comparison to his harsh personality, I also headcannon he's the type of guy to listen to music to reminsce and remember his s/o <3. Also just think that lovecore playlists are bangers that remind me of cute character like Miffy and such (I def was not listening to lovecore playlists writing this)

BARISTA'S INQUIREMENT... part II of two! not proof read... Was supposed to be gender neutral but I have a sneaking suspicion I forgot it somewhere. Please let me know if I did! Unfortunately, was very burnt out and couldn't find it in me to write an Umemiya part :(( I will try to post Umemiya content in the near future!

word count. 3k-ish

tag list form !

Part I // FINAL

©lilimalia... Please do not plagiarize, themes are edited by me, reblogs allowed, do not repost on any other platform!!

banner creds: satoru nii, author of wind breaker

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#30: The Story of the Brave Man (1.04)

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

While Rick’s kids were telling stories of their dad’s brave acts, Rick was, unfortunately, being fed a story of what he needed to give his life to by Okafor. And that really complicates things in these following moments between Rick and Michonne... 

After they fade to black from Richonne's compelling marital fight, they cut back to the thermostat system's voice chiming in with another fitting assessment of Richonne’s situation as it says, “Temperature control malfunction.” And again, Rick refusing to go home is most definitely an indicator of a malfunction. 

Michonne looks out the window while Rick can be seen in the reflection facing away from her. And I like the way it’s filmed where we’re seeing Richonne from the outside looking in. It hammers home some of the distance they feel between them as we too watch them from a distance.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Michonne speaks and is clearly in a very reflective space as she quotes Nat and says, “'I know how it ends.'” Then it feels like a punch in my stomach every time I hear her say, “You know your son - the one you haven’t asked anything about - he calls you the Brave Man.” 🥺

That ‘the one you haven’t asked anything about’ hurts to hear every time. The first time I watched it I was still in shock that Rick hadn’t more directly addressed or asked questions regarding his son and so it was sorta surreal to hear Michonne even have to say this.

And I get Rick has a whole lot of PTSD making him scared to address it but I was still like 'Rick, I need you to stop breaking your wife’s heart ASAP.' You know that has to be so hurtful that she finally got to tell Rick about the baby they had and he hasn’t asked anything about him.

gif cred: @nat111love

That line always makes me think about one of the few things I remember from season 10 which is that beach day scene with Michonne, Judith, and RJ when RJ is asking questions about the Brave Man.

When Michonne says she’d do anything for them RJ is so adorably like “and for my dad?” Without even knowing Rick, RJ made sure his dad was still included and acknowledged, and so I was like -Rick, we can't have RJ asking more questions about you than you ask about him. 🥺

Rick does at least turn around when he hears Michonne say that their son calls him The Brave Man and it’s great finally getting to see him learn this.

Michonne has this sort of weary smile as she shares, “He and Judith tell each other the story of what you did.” And in this moment I really see a mother who loves and misses her kids and who is exhausted. 😢

She’s been through so much for her family for years but especially in the last year and now she’s going through so much since reuniting with Rick too. Like my girl is tired from trying to be strong for everyone, including Rick who is insistent on this story ending with her going home without him after fighting like hell to find him.

I think Michonne's tone here has a lot to do with the fact that she’s finally getting to tell Rick these things about their kids but she never thought it would be under these circumstances with Rick in the room but still so far away and still refusing to go home. 

Then I absolutely adore the moment Michonne turns away from the window and says, “He started calling himself 'Little Brave Man'… I loved that.” It’s the cutest thing to see her have a moment of joy recalling her baby boy and the adorable nickname RJ gave himself during the last time she talked to him. 🥰

gif cred: @nat111love

And we get a quick flash of Real Rick when he has a subtle genuine smile hearing this. I love it. 🥹 It's a layered smile, both touched and pained because the news of their son is bittersweet. Their baby is such a gift and also a reminder of how much he's missed.

I feel like in this moment, despite all the walls he has up rn, hearing both that his son has this nickname that shows he wants to be like his dad and most of all seeing Michonne as a mom smile about their son actually hits Rick and makes him happy for a second.

There’s gotta be something comforting knowing that all this time Michonne really wasn’t entirely without Rick because she was out there raising his mini-me and his daughter.

I love how it feels like seeing the mother of his child smile about that and share something she loves about their son is what makes Rick not be able to help but smile about it too. And every time Rick smiles like this it reminds me of RJ. 🥹

gif cred: @nat111love

And that little smile moment was very needed...because Real Rick disappears for the rest of this conversation. 😑

So Rick sits down and it’s definitely symbolic that he has yet to change out of his CRM gear. It still has a hold on him.

Michonne again quotes Nat saying, “'I know how it ends.' Nat my friend who your people killed…” And Rick interjects to say “They’re not my damn people.” Lol. I love that. 😋

Especially cuz when I first watched I didn’t even catch how Michonne’s wording could be subtle shade but of course, as her husband, Rick immediately caught it and had to clarify. Like...

When Rick says they aren't his damn people, Michonne is like tell your actions that babe because you sure are trying to stay with those people…or at least that’s what I was thinking lol. 🙂 She brushes right past Rick’s comment and continues saying, “He said that to me once when I said I had to keep looking for you.”

Once again I was hoping this line would be something that opens Rick's eyes to the fact that Michonne was fighting to get back to him just like he was trying to get back to her. Like anything that helps him see they are equally valued in this relationship which is why asking her to leave him behind isn’t right because with the roles reversed he’d never leave her like this. 

Continuing to speak on Nat, Michonne says, “He knew how it ended but he still had my back” And the way Nat supported Michonne is a big reason why we celebrate Nat always and forever over here.😇 One of the franchise’s truest friends. 👌🏽

Michonne says, “I was so sure he was wrong. But he wasn’t.” It’s interesting she’s reflecting on Nat right now and the way he thought this would end. I think this is coming up for her at this moment because she knows if she can’t convince Rick to leave with her then she’s gonna have to know when to go because, no matter what, she has to make it home to her babies either with him or devastatingly without him.

gif cred: @richardgrimes

So I think she’s just really confronted with how likely that ‘without him’ scenario could be despite previously so badly wanting to believe that now that she’s 'found' Rick going home together would be inevitable. 

Then it’s another gut punch when Michonne says, “Cuz here I am. I found you. But I didn’t.” It’s really the best way to put it and heartbreaking to hear. 💔

And it’s interesting seeing Rick be silent hearing this. It’s sad because the very first thing Michonne said when reuniting with Rick was a joyous “I found you” in episode 1, but it’s been hitting her just how much her Rick is still buried under all the things he’s been through so she hasn’t found him yet.

Like I think every time they kiss she finds him for a fleeting moment but then the fear goes right back to consuming him and taking her Rick away. 

gif cred: @richardgrimes

Michonne says, “This is not what I had in my head at all.” And me either because again when I tell you I imagined 1000 scenarios of the RJ reveal and none of them went this way. It had me all the way shook. 🫢 But this is why Danai is the best because she knew the perfect conflict-driven way for this to all play out. 👏🏽

Michonne then collects herself and tries to get some understanding of Rick’s dodgy logic when she says, “OK so just - just to get this straight - we just got a way out. They think we’re dead and you want to stay…stay with an army that kept you against your will for years?”

I was right there with Michonne because I was looking at Rick like...

I like how throughout this episode Michonne knows the importance of spelling things out in words. It’s helpful to hear things out loud, especially when you can hear how crazy something sounds like Rick's explanation for not going home. 

Rick responds saying, “I have to make sure you’re protected.” And it is nice to hear him be so adamant about protecting her even tho of course there’s more to the story.

And Michonne knows there’s more and something else keeping him stuck when she says, “Oh that’s not it.” Rick really had me and Michonne listening to his words like...

Rick has to realize he might have been able to put on a mask with other people but Michonne knows who he is inside and out so she can fully tell that there’s so much more behind his reasoning that he's not saying. Michonne knows Rick is a protector but she also knows that he would never pass up the chance to be with his family unless something was very wrong inside.

And I really think another part of the issue is Rick has been in ‘protect them’ mode for literal years since he’s been away and so it’s like all he knows is protect and sacrifice and he’s out of practice when it comes to remembering there’s a lot more to a relationship. Like your wife and kids need you with them, not just fighting for them from afar. 

Rick says, “I have to keep them from coming for our home.” And Michonne says, “They’re coming for it? You know that?” Rick replies, “They could. One day?” And Michonne is sorta flabbergasted that Rick is indefinitely refusing to come home over something that could hypothetically happen so she repeats, “One day?” 🙃

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

And then Rick tries to double down saying, “I’ve been looking the other way. And you said it, they kill innocent people. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m in. I stay and make sure Judith and our son are protected from them.” Not Rick trying to spin this like this was somehow Michonne’s idea too. 🤔🙃

But I do love hearing him say 'Judith and our son.' I’m telling you the second he learned of RJ he became every bit a part of the family Rick fights for. 💯

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

I love the way Michonne responds truly like Rick’s wife and best friend who knows him too well when she calls BS about that. And she knows it’s BS because in what world would Rick be cool with just never seeing his kids? 

You can feel how Rick lying to Michonne is hurtful to her because they are interconnected in every way. And while they normally get access to every part of each other, Rick is now trying to shut her out of what’s really going on with him all the while she can literally feel his pain because they're one.

She might not know exactly what is causing the pain yet but whatever deep pain Rick is in, which we learn is rooted in the devastation of losing his son’s memory, is pain she can see, sense, and most of all feel. So to see him give all these other reasons for his actions when she knows and can feel there’s something deeper is frustrating for her.

Also, this got me thinking about how Mike failed to protect Michonne and Andre, and he ended up almost protecting her more when he was dead as a walker shielding her from other walkers. And now, Rick too is convinced he can better protect Michonne while being 'dead.'

Rick has convinced himself that this dead version of him pushing her away is what will keep her safe, when really Michonne needs him alive and with her so much more.

Rick says, “Listen to me. The first man you and Nat killed his name was Okafor, and he’s who saved my life.” That line is always another indicator to me that Rick has changed a lot since TOWL ep 1 because before he didn’t want to give anybody in the CRM credit for saving his life but now he’s been led to believe (or more trying to force himself to believe) that Okafor showed him the light or something.

Rick goes on to say, “He wanted me to become part of the CRM, move up, help him change it. I didn’t have anything left so I gave myself to his mission.” And y’all, the way Michonne is looking at him and trying to understand how the heck this explains why he won’t go home. 🤭 And I get it, cuz I too was looking at Rick like...

Whenever I see Michonne looking at him here, I’m like Rick, buddy, Michonne loves you a lot because if anyone else was presenting their iffy points like this she might be a lot less inclined to try to make things work. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Michonne reminds Rick that all that stuff he gave himself to was Okafor’s mission not his own and then she asks some questions I was wondering about too because she says, “Do you remember the life we built? What we had?” I love that she says this and the way she says it. You can tell Michonne loved the life they were building and it makes sense cuz they were in such a beautiful place in season 9. 😢

Also, the wording stands out because Rick tried to say everything they had is broken but here Michonne’s trying to remind Rick of just how good and unbreakable what they had was. 

She approaches him and says, “What we were building - it’s kept people alive.” And y’all already know I adore the way she gently puts her hand on his face and lifts up his head. 😍 She’s so tender with him even after he’s been so hot and cold with her.

gif cred: @perryabbott

And Rick’s elevator eyes make another appearance because the way he’s looking at her as she gets close to him...Michonne almost had to lift up his face or the man was gonna get distracted lol. Also, it's sad to remember this type of tenderness has been nonexistent in Rick’s life for years. 😢

Then Michonne shares how she was observing Rick at the CRM saying, “I saw you, standing there behind her. A solider at attention for this army and I thought…‘He’s a prisoner here and we have to break out.’”

Ok first of all; I love the soft tone she’s using saying this. Like as upset as she is she’s still so empathetic. And I also love the wording of this because she saw him being a prisoner which you know hurt her heart but then she says ‘We have to break out.’ Once again she’s never thinking Rick has to do anything alone and so even seeing he’s a prisoner, her thought was what will we do about it together.

Then I always love the irony of this next line when Michonne says, “You don’t choose to stay in prison. When the doors open you leave.” She’s absolutely right and in this context, it makes perfect sense. But the irony I love comes from the fact that Rick and Michonne literally met at a prison and called it home for a long while. 😊

And even when Michonne could have ditched the prison after Merle nearly gave her to the Governor she chose to come right back to the prison because deep down she knew she belonged with these people and specifically the Grimes (and cuz magnets. I gotta mention that every time. 👌🏽😋🧲)

Rick says, “We’ve been crawling around in the dirt so long, Michonne. Losing people we love. This felt like a way or a chance to stop that.” I remember first hearing that and being like crawling around in the dirt?? I get ASZ isn’t as evolved as the CRM but team family’s crawling-around-in-the-dirt days were like season 4B-5B territory. They’ve come a long way since then.

Rick goes on to say this felt like a chance to fight for everyone instead of surrender, which is interesting because in ep 1 when Okafor said everyone is Rick’s people he was not trying to hear all that and was adamant this isn’t his city or his people. But now with Michonne, he’s trying to spew the same Okafor rhetoric that he has to sacrifice himself for everyone. - But he knows and she knows and we know that none of this is the real reason why he won’t go home.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

And then Michonne gives Rick a much-needed reminder when she passionately says, “That place is not your responsibility. You have a family.” Exactly. 👏🏽 Like the fact that she even had to tell Rick that makes me upset. ☹️ But I love that she says it in plain letters because no matter how long it’s been she’s like we are still your family.

I wanted to shake Rick tbh and be like you have a wife and kids and they need you so please for all that is good and holy snap out of it. 🙏🏽 

But Rick is stuck on his CRM defense mechanisms as he says, “Okafor’s gone. Thorne’s one of them now. I’m the only one left.” Stopping the CRM’s crimes against humanity is a noble cause but I have to admit when I heard Rick say this I was like...this all sounds more like reasons why he can drop Okafor’s plan and go home now. 😅 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Michonne is trying her hardest to be nice and understanding despite thinking this is all ridiculous when she says, “So you’re trying to keep us safe by *maybe* changing the CRM one day, who *might* come after our home and put it in danger. That’s it?” I love how she spells the whole thing out again and I know she wants to be like sir are you hearing yourself because this sounds crazy.

And Rick looks like he kinda knows it sounds crazy so he just has this silent nod like yeah...

Then Michonne again makes my heart hurt when she says, “You won’t come home with me, to your life? Your kids?” The emotional emphasis on kids gets me. 🥺 I know that really makes her feel like she’s not talking to her Rick because the man she knew would never refuse to come home to her and their children.

I also really like that she says come home to 'your life' because she’s again reminding him that his life is not here but with her and their family like it’s always been.

And once again I gotta applaud the wording. Because what does Michonne say he won’t come home to? His wife, his kids, his life. And what did Rick say was his choice in episode 1? His wife, his kid, his life.

And they’re still his choice now but he’s choosing the wrong thing for them and him. It just goes to show how much being the walking dead has affected him that now he won’t come home to the very people he loves most and is most devoted to. 

Defeated but stubborn, Rick looks at Michonne and says, “I don’t want to do this. I have to.” And while on first watch you’re meant to think he has to because he thinks it’s for the greater good, I love how we later learn he thinks he has to because if he goes home and loses Michonne he’s terrified of not knowing how to die again. 🥺 But I’m getting ahead of myself again lol.

Rick concludes by saying, “So no” and y’all something about the way he says those two words makes me so mad lol. I feel for him, and it's clear this destroys him inside, but he’s also played in Michonne’s face one too many times in the last few hours.

And the way he’s saying it trying to sound so ‘resolved’ as if this is just the final verdict. And something about the tone, it's like a tone one would use when saying 'no I won’t run that errand' when really he’s saying 'so no I won’t come home and be a father to our kids.' 😑 Idk, I just stay wanting to fight when I see this moment. 😅

When I first watched I was like alright Michonne we love him but let’s pack it up it’s time to go. And after trying her best to reason with him and him telling her over and over this is the way it’s gonna be, she sadly knows it’s time to head out as well.

She raises a finger and says, “That’s not it. You’re lying.” And I just love that whole motion. And Rick is lucky once again that Michonne knows him so well that even still after he continues with this disappointing stance she knows that’s not really the reason for his choices. Rick, this is your other half so you really think she can’t tell when you’re lying? Michonne has a good read on everybody she comes across but especially Rick Grimes. She always has, but he must’ve forgotten. 

We’re really watching two halves of one soul, so while Rick and Michonne are at odds rn, there’s still no denying their oneness. They know each other so well that they simply can’t successfully lie to each other about what’s really going on. It's like Rick has forgot what it feels like to be so seen and so he doesn’t realize all this hiding and lying won’t work on Michonne.

Rick lying in this convo is a lie too many for Michonne so she says, “But you know what? Your wish is granted. I’m out.” Lol I love that she says 'your wish is granted.' Our little genie. 🧞‍♀️😋 Despite Rick continually trying to reiterate he doesn’t want this, Michonne is like you sure are acting as though this is your wish so no magic lamps needed, she’s out.✌🏽

Michonne heading out was a tough decision that I’m glad she got to make. And this is when Rick realizes he's not just in this apartment with Michonne Grimes the wife but Michonne Grimes the mother.

Getting back to her kids was always a vital part of this mission. Like finding Rick was the crucial part one of the mission. Going home to their kids was the crucial part two and Michonne was never going to feel like she fully succeeded at this Find Rick operation if it didn’t end with her kids back in their arms. (That’s why I was so confident there would be a reunion with their children because that was always a huge part of this mission she was on)

And then, despite repeatedly acting like Michonne leaving is the only way, Rick sure does look shook when she actually starts leaving. The way that man springs up from the couch immediately with Pikachu-shock etched on his face. Makes me giggle every time. 🤭

Same energy.

Michonne walks away saying, “Back to my kids. Who I left to find you.” And I always note when she uses the terms 'my kids,' 'your kids,' or 'our kids' in their talks. And naturally, at this moment she uses 'my kids' because at this rate Rick is refusing to come home to these kids so she has to go home to her kids.

Michonne is kind enough to give Rick and us a recap of everything she’s done thus far to try and get this man to come home when she says “Well I found you. I fought for you. I tried to reason with you. I pleaded with you. And now I have to go.” She ain’t wrong.

And I like the movement that coincides with this as Michonne packs things up and grabs the book for her daughter because even upset she’s still a thoughtful mother. She also grabs a large kitchen knife cuz that’s all she really needs to take down whatever comes her way out there.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Also, I always note the way she says 'pleaded with you' because I know in that moment she knows that is not even like her. Like Michonne very rarely pleads with people. But Rick has her being someone she doesn’t recognize because she had been so willing to try everything to reach him. 

She did her best but now she’s got to go even tho it breaks her heart. Again, I’m glad that Danai wrote this where Michonne makes a decision that’s not just rooted in aiding Rick along his journey of trauma but rather knowing she can’t just put up with his back and forth forever because it’s unfair to her and it’s keeping her from her kids. So she basically stops Rick’s back-and-forth games right in their tracks.

Also, I love how quickly Michonne turns this swanky apartment into survival resources as she breaks the lamp for another weapon. It shows she may have been a city girl before but Michonne's also a seasoned apocalyptic survivor now.

And since I said I was gonna talk about every detail that I notice even if it's just minuscule, I have to say I always like - what I’m sure is unintentional - but how Michonne stomps on that one lamp leg only to grab a different one that was already detached. Seeing that, I was like those cute little stomps were just to let out some frustration lol. 😋

gif cred: @taiturner

Michonne reiterates that she knows Rick isn’t being honest with her when she points the lamp stick at him and says, “You’re lying, and you’ll see it and it’ll be too late.” Imagine if that was the last thing they ever said to each other. 😥 Rick would be distraught and done in.

Rick stands there staring at her silent and likely knowing she’s right deep down. It’s interesting how often Rick is just rendered speechless in these moments. It’s almost like so much is going through his head and yet so few of it can make it out into audible words.

Michonne gives one last quick look before swiftly walking out of the apartment and leaving. And now you know I always hate to see my magnetic babies part ways. 😢 But at the same time, I was honestly really proud of Michonne for not putting up with this hurtful treatment any longer.

Idk who Rick thought his wife was but she is not the one to just sit there and be tried time and time again. Especially when it means more time away from her children. But while to Rick she hasn’t yet shown how deeply this all tears her up inside, the second she leaves the apartment those tears start coming and we soon see just how much pain they’re both in over this. 🥺👌🏽