#should not have thought this up before dinner

[widowlyy]

🥎 ❀ HOMERUN DEAL

analysis. its the first game of your season and you were a nervous wreck the entire time. Close enough to quitting, your softball coach had pulled you to the side and offered you a bargain if you were to snap your head into the game and win.

pairing. softball coach!natasha x player!reader

warnings. MINORS DNI | Smut. Legal age gap (N is late thirties, R is early twenties), strap-on (R receiving), daddy kink, possessive nat, mean nat (if you squint), teasing, semi-public sex (almost got caught, in office), degradation, praising, dirty talk.

wc. 4.8k

authors note. the games begin, in the series and between me and a fellow friend 😼😼 — expect more coming soon. @thewidowsledger im ringing the dinner bell come here

taglist. @idkwhatever580

⧗

Monday mornings were never your favorite, who even enjoyed them anyways? Tomorrow is going to be the first softball game of the season after a week of practice and a week of you fawning over your coach, and it was clear your teammates noticed. You walked into your building with a empty cup of coffee that was sloppily made from the starbucks worker, and you didn’t even have the time to open your mouth and complain due to Kate wanting to meet up early and gossip in the parking lot. You remind yourself of the message you got in the morning before you woke, the familiar image of the redhead had filled your mind as she reminded you to go to her office in the morning to go over plans and to understand your point of view more on who should play where.

You walked through the halls, ensuring your shoes dragged amongst the floor, squeaking in complaint just like you were twenty minutes earlier to the black haired girl you adored. The sound of a door opening, the metal hinges silently groaned as the raspy yet teasing voice announced, “L/N, stop dragging your feet down the hall, come on in,��� Turning your head to see the opened door with the woman herself standing in the doorway, taking in her outfit, the wide-legged black dress pants had perfectly fit her waist with the white blouse as her top. You tried to focus on the redhead's face rather than Natasha’s soft colored skin and curves, noticing the soft smile on her face as she lured you into the trap of her office as you stepped into the office. Ensuring to lift your feet to prevent the obnoxious noise. Hearing the door close behind you and the feeling of a hand brushing against your lower back as she gestured for you to sit across from her seat behind the desk. You hesitated at first, before you felt her lean in behind you as her lips brushed against your ear. Is this a teasing way? Was she just playing with you, fighting the blush on your cheeks as she softly mused out, “Come on, we have plenty of time for you and me to discuss the game plan tomorrow,”

“Right, uhm, what are you thinking?” You tried to hide your nerves as you asked your coach what her plans were, watching as the redhead had ensured to sit across from you looking into your eyes as soon as you looked up to meet hers with that smirk plastered on her lips before she turned to look at her computer screen and explain her thoughts.

“Well, I thought I could place Brooke at third with you at short. Kate pitching with Carol catching,” She confidently stated out as she looked over the positions, her eyes trailed over as your brows creased and a small frown found your face and you spoke up.

“No, swap me and Brooke. She plays at short usually while me at third, that’s been our dynamic for years,” you had explained softly, mind hazy as all you could think about was Natasha’s arms. Seeing them lean against the desk to look closer at you before she hummed softly, adjusting the positions, another suggestion fell off your lips, “You’ll want to have Maria warm up as well, if Kate goes for too long in an inning she’ll get in her head and it won’t work for any of us,”

She quirked a brow, a soft smirk playing on her lips as she nodded, “Abby at second right? Then we bring Wanda in center, Anna in right and Karlie in left,”

You nodded quickly at the redheads statement for the rest of the positions, your eyes flicked to the screen as your coach turned it around so you’d get a look at the batting line up. You were batting third, wincing a bit but hiding it quickly as you nodded, “seems good to me,”

The redhead smiled softly at you, green eyes twinkling before she pulled her laptop back and shut it, her focus going solely on you which had the butterflies in your stomach churning. Swallowing, you also mumbled out meekly, “is there anything you need me to tell the team, such as signs, specific things or plays you want?”

“No, I think I can have it handled,” Natasha responded softly before spinning her chair and standing up, the aroma of coffee filling the office air as your eyes took in how your coach had a coffee machine in her office. Surprise filled your orbs, she turned back as she got two mugs, “do you want a cup? I made a little too much,”

“Yeah sure,” You agreed, “lots of sugar if you have it, creamer too,” 

“Ooh, you like it sweet? Does that explain how sweet you are?” She teased lightly, a brow quirking as she poured you a cup. Pouring a scoop of sugar in and then creamer, surprisingly enough to suit your taste as she stirred it and handed it to you. Flushing as your eyes found your feet, muttering a small thanks and taking the cup gracefully.

“You seem tired malyshka, how much sleep did you get?” Your coach asked softly, pouring herself a cup and having a scoop of sugar before mixing it in well enough as she sat down in front of you again. Taking a sip as you tried to comprehend how black the woman liked her coffee. Calculating the hours of sleep, you weren’t as tired as you were anymore, too busy ranting on call with Kate while playing stupid games or doing assignments. Yet somehow it took a toll on you last night, actually trying to go to bed early but all you could do was stare at the ceiling and hope that sleep would take you. Sleeping medication, such as melatonin, didn’t work anymore due to early years of you being unable to sleep and overtaking it to where the medicine didn’t have an effect on you anymore.

“Err, about six hours, I was up finishing a report for one of my minor classes,” You meekly admitted, you had easily lied to teachers before. A bat of your eyes with a soft plea that your cat had gone missing due to her being a minx and you were worried too much to work on schoolwork because that cat was the last thing you had with a resemblance of your mother. Your cat is in fact with your mother, who lives in a separate state, who you never talked to after you declared that it was your time for independence and that you can go through with your dreams. You still regret it, it’s one of the things that has your mind reeling at night with a gut-wrenching feeling of guilt.

Your mind wandered enough for Natasha to see the haze in your eyes, she cleared her throat as her raspy yet soft voice slightly scolded in concern, “you need eight hours honey, that’s not healthy especially when you play a sport like this. I need you up and running tomorrow, okay?”

Your eyes lifted, a slight nod had bobbed at her words as you took a sip from the mug she handed you. Nose scrunching as you considered her words, a meek thanks leaving your lips as you felt the scorching liquid torment your tastebuds before you swallowed it down your esophagus. You swore you’d take coffee out of your mornings after you spazzed out one day in highschool, hands too shaky for writing and you broke your personal school chromebook that had your dad in your ear about having to pay for it and your mom yelling at him and defending you quickly. 

“I plan on going to bed earlier tonight, Kate’s working so I can’t call her. I have nothing due for my classes either so I’m free,” You reassured your coach, a shy smile finding your features as your eyes softened slightly from the tension and exhaustion as you looked at the redhead who gave you a smile in return.

“That’s good, I hope you don’t mind but I contacted your first classes professor about you not being there for us discussing plans,” She informed you, a hum left her throat, “if you want you can stay here and rest, I’m not doing anything special but scheduling more games. The couch there is open if you want to nap,” 

Your eyes widened at her gesture, astonished at the generosity before you nodded quickly. Taking a moment to think before opening your phone to check the time, at least two hours, you’ll be able to last. A hoarse rasp left your throat from the hot liquid and tiredness, “thank you coach, I’ll be out of here five minutes before first period is done, I’ll set an alarm,”

As you stood to go lay down on the couch. You settled yourself, head resting on the arm as you were about to set an alarm on your phone as movement caught your eyes. Natasha waved it off as she offered with a hum, “don’t worry about it, I can wake you up, just get your beauty sleep malyshka. That’s all I need,”

A simple nod against the fabric was enough to indicate you trusted Natasha to wake you up, a small smile found her face as she was finally gaining your trust. Noting how your breathing faded to something soft you fell asleep, a small sigh left her lips. Finding ways to get you to rest was hard, exhausting you at practice as she made you run drills harshly weren’t enough. Maybe the gentle approach was better, all she knew is that she was getting closer to you. That’s all she wanted, and she found a suspicion that’s what you wanted too.

—

You fought with the belt buckle to hold your pants up, to tie the outfit together. Black jeseries with red pin stripes with black pants, white socks and the white belt that is struggling to close around your hips. Finally snapping it down as you sighed, you had your hair bubble braided and you stood in front of the mirror in the athletic locker room. Eyes fixing in on your form before a sudden whistle left someone’s lips and you saw the familiar raven colored hair stood beside you.

“Your ass is fat, what happened to the pants? Or did you just randomly grow,” Kate teased, hand grazing your shoulder before she moved to put her hair up in a lazy bun. Your eyes gave the infamous mom glare as you sighed, you were pretty sure you were given the wrong size in pants. First time wearing them, and you had planned to take a trip to Natasha’s office after the game to ask if you can swap pants with how tight they were. A small squeeze in your lower abdomen was there for pressure in your breathing, but it wasn’t fatal yet.

“The pants are a size too small, I plan on going to coaches office after the game to ask for a swap,” You shared the game-plan about your pants with Kate, letting out a soft grumble as she quirked a brow as a teasing giggle left her throat, “maybe coach picked you a size smaller on purpose,”

A smack was emitted from where you were at, you had slapped her bicep with another glare that could kill as the girl put her arms up in defeat, “Joking! I was joking, gosh! Who’s got your panties rolled up?”

You sensed there was a second part Kate wanted to share with that final sentence but luckily the girl was smart enough to not push it anymore. You hauled your softball bag over your shoulder and clapped her on the shoulder with a rough, “Let’s get going, maybe I’ll make you run an extra lap for warmups to put your head in the game,”

“Yeah while you have your head somewhere else,” Kate rolled her eyes and she was lucky she was a few distances behind you as you hissed out her last name in a scolding manner. Walking down the cement path towards the fields as you hauled a bucket of balls while Kate follows behind you like a lost puppy.

“Come on, let’s get our head in the game,”

—

Your head wasn’t in the game. You didn’t know what was happening, you have been struggling to field a simple ground ball and you have bobbled it everytime it got into your mitt and you overthrowed it or was too late. When you were up to bat you could barely hit, it was a slow pitcher which you absolutely hated on waiting for and you fouled it many more times than it went into play. When it went into play? It was dead, dying in the dirt as quick as it hit it and you were thrown out every time you ran through the bag. Your ribs were aching, pants too tight as you struggled to breathe as water dribbled down your chin, sweating profusely as you sat in the corner every time you were in the dugout for being on the offensive side while your teammates hit.

Natasha stood at third base every inning when your team was hitting, when your team was on the field she sat on her bucket giving signals to the catcher and pushing her face into the clipboard everytime a mistake was made. You grimaced every time when you saw the sweaty redhead cringe and you felt the wave of disappointment.

It was the last inning, the last at bat and the score was tied. 6-6, you were on deck and you swung the bat lazily to try and warm yourself up. Try and shake out the jitters, the bat cracked from Kate and went flying to rightfield. Bases were loaded, and a time was called as the other coach ran to the pitchers mound for some type of talk.

A hand found your shoulder, dragging you to the third base area away from earshot as Natasha pulled you back and her slender hands gripped the mask of your helmet, “what’s going on?”

“I-I don’t know, coach I can’t do—,” A jerk forward from the helmet brought you insanely closer to the redhead, piercing green irises staring into yours as she finished your sentence, “you can do this Y/N, stop doubting yourself. You can hit off of her easily, just a small one over the fence and we win. Just time up your load carefully, don’t lunge, and don’t roll your wrists,”

You stared hopelessly into the redheads eyes, how can Natasha give this advice so simply? Cheeks flushed at how your coach was so close as Natasha ever so slightly leaned in and deviously, yet quietly bargained, “you hit a home run over that fence and I’ll take you in my office and fuck you,”

Your eyes widened, mouth agape at the offer, well bargain she handed you. She was your coach and she just offered you sex for a home run? Biting your bottom lip as you blinked before she added on, “I’ve seen the looks you give me, you can’t deny it princess,”

“Okay, okay, I’ll take it but what happens if I don’t?” As soon as you asked the umpire asked—yelled—for you to come up to the plate. Swallowing as the redhead’s eyes darkened before she patted the helmet you wore and you traipsed up to the batter’s plate. 

Stepping into the box, you watched the pitcher wind up and throw a ball right over your head. Steadily breathing out as you stepped out to look over at your coach. No signs, she meant the words she said. Stepping back in and swinging your bat against your cleats like the ritual you do every time you go up to bat. 

Wind up, load back, and you swung your arms forth. The sound of the ball hitting the bat cracked over the field and you dropped it and ran. Watching the baserunners start running, your assistant coach pumped their arms to signal you to turn and go to second. You pumped your legs faster, puffing slightly as you suddenly heard clapping. It was a good hit but was it enough for the spectators to clap. You turned your head to see Natasha clapping as well, a smile on the redhead’s face as you noticed the fielders moved to the side. 

You made it to three and kept running, finally recognizing the fact you hit the ball over the fence. Your team rushed out of the dugout to congratulate you, as soon as you stepped on home plate your thighs were grabbed and you were hauled up as they lifted you and cheered. The yell of game over had everyone dancing in enthusiasm, as soon as you were set down on the dirt you lined up and high-fived the other team with your squeaky mumbles of good game.

—

“There could’ve been a lot of improvement, but it was a good first game,” Natasha spoke as she stood, you and your teammates were sat in the grass in leftfield and listened to her advice for how the game went and her overlook, “you guys make a great team, but if you keep getting in your heads like that and keep on making mistakes we’ll never learn and we will lose every game, luckily Y/N hit that grand slam for us,”

You felt a few hands clap your shoulders, hair down as you were tired and didn’t want to wait until home to take the amount of mini rubber bands out. You were unable to process the congratulations still on how you managed to hit it over the fence as your eyes slightly peered up to look at the redhead, she was quiet for a second before adding on, “rake the fields, put everything away,”

Standing up, you went to go help the teammates go pick up, blinking for a moment before a harsh order came out in the night air, “Not you Y/N, my office, now,”

You swallowed, watching your coach walk past you and you ducked your head and followed Natasha like a lost puppy as confused looks found your teammates faces. It felt like hours walking to the building of your school, watching the redhead open the doors for you and place a hand on your shoulder to guide you to her office.

Door hinges opened with a small creaking in protest, walking in first before two hands grabbed your waist and the door was shut. Hands moving to fumble with the lock of the office door as Natasha’s head pushed into the crevice of your neck as sloppy, wet kisses were littered across your skin. Hands finding her hair and a hopeless whimper left your throat as she kept you pinned against the door as the handle dug painfully into your lower spine.

“Didn’t believe me when I offered you this huh malyshka? Trust me, daddy keeps her promises,” the huskiness of Natasha’s voice sent a throbbing ache between your legs as you mewled as her teeth gently sunk into your throat before the warm muscle of Natasha’s tongue soothed the mark.

“Tell me what you want baby, what does the little winner want from daddy, hmm?” She cooed out mockingly, pulling her head back with a wicked grin on her facial features. A calloused hand grabbing your chin to make you look at her, unable to form a single thought in your head with words. Your body moved on its own, hips thrusting forward against the redheads hip. Hand leaving your face to grip your waist and pushed you back.

“Uh uh, tell daddy what you want or you’re not going to get what you want and I’ll decide for you,” She tutted, a mocking pout finding her perfect lips as she leaned in and pressed a kiss against your pretty lips, teeth gnashing down on your bottom lip as you moaned out. Tongue pushing way into your mouth before she pulled back, leaving you wanting and chasing her lips.

“Want you, please,” You softly whined, hands gripping the redheads coaching shirt as a brow quirked. Her hand moving to unbutton your jersey, fingernails tracing the shape of your bra as she taunted, “what part of me my dear?”

You flushed, swallowing as you grabbed Natasha by the waist and pulled her closer. Smashing your lips into hers and she grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in before flipping you around. She pushed your hair out of the way and pressed her lips to your neck again, teeth biting, sucking, doing all that she can to leave her marks as a hand went down to grope your ass.

“Fuck, these pants really do show your ass, hm? My perfect little baby with the body of a goddess,” She lovingly cooed, pushing your jersey off your body. Unclasping your bra before her hand cupped one of your breasts, fingers rolling over the nipple as you whined out. Softly moaning into the air, “tell me baby, do you wanna ride daddy’s cock? I’m sure that’s a reward you want, or maybe have you bent over my desk as I fuck that pretty pussy until it’s full,”

Her hand from your ass lifted and grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back so you can look into her eyes, “hmm? Too dumb to think now are we? Poor girl,”

She pulled you away from the door, bringing you over to her desk as she kissed you again. Savoring your taste on her lips as you grasped at her shirt again, hands fiddling with the buckle of your belt before undoing it. Her hands shoved your pants and panties down, revealing your throbbing cunt into the cold air and you gasped.

“Such a slut, I’m your coach and you’re getting off with how I treat you,” She scolded, turning your body around as a hand found the spot between your shoulder-blades and pushed you down so you were bent over her desk. Uncaring for the paperwork, she can always print more. Loving how you were bent, hands gripping the wood like it was your lifeline while you were on the tips of your toes, your entrance open and needy as your arousal stuck to your thighs.

“Mmph, daddy please,” You whimpered out, needy enough as you slowly pushed your hips against the desk to get at least some friction until a slap was emitted on the globe of your ass.

“Don’t move,” Came the harsh words from your coach, a whimper left your lips as you blubbered incoherently. Hearing a belt buckle undone, the slide of pants falling down. The feel of silicone against your thigh had you clench in anticipation, the redhead traced her fingers down your spine before she slid the toy inside you. 

Your eyes crossed, unfamiliar with the stretch and as you felt her hips move back slowly anticipation creeped into your veins before a knock was sounding at the door. You froze, Natasha froze. The door was locked, but if someone were to actually peer through the thick glass on the door the silhouettes of you two would be seen.

“Coach, practice is cancelled tomorrow right?” Came the voice of the familiar blonde, Carol was right outside the door and you felt the lump in your throat. A hand moved to grip your throat, squeezing as your breathing restricted, the gruff voice leaving the body who was behind you.

“Yes Carol, practice is cancelled tomorrow. But I have a very important email I’m writing and you just interrupted me. Would you like a one on one practice with me yourself or leave me alone?” The harshness of Natasha’s words had you gush around the strap and she felt it. A smirk finding her plump lips before a quiet ‘yes coach’ was heard and the sound of feet moving down the hall.

Your fingers clawed at the desk, the grip on your throat didn’t loosen and the redhead slammed the toy back into you. The tip right against your cervix as you cried—well tried to—out. 

“Oh baby, you fit my cock so well, such a pretty girl. You like it when I treat you like this, don’t you?” She cooed out softly, pulling her hips back and thrusting in. Molding her body to your back as her hips snapped steadily, thrusting in and out of you as she held you down as to pitifully nodded and moaned out.

“Daddy’s good girl, fuck I should’ve taken you earlier. Your pussy is so addicting,” She moaned out, her hand leaving your throat as a series of moans left your lips. Pressing her lips to your throat as her hand found your clit, rubbing soothing circles into it as you grinded back into your coach.

“Uh, uh, uh,” left your throat, cockdrunk already as your mind grew hazy. A snort left the redhead’s mouth, a soft snicker escaping the older woman’s throat at your lack of thought. 

“Gonna cum,” you softly whined out, walls clenching around the strap on as you felt the coil in your abdomen tighten to that familiar feeling. A harsh laugh left the coach, before she pulled the toy out of you and a broken cry left your lips. Tears starting to bubble in your eyes, the hand on your clit moved back to your hip.

“Poor baby, you needed to let go that bad?” She mocked, pulling you up from the desk as she sat down in her office chair, pulling you to straddle her lap and face you. A brow quirked and she gave that devious smirk of hers, “I’m sure you can hold it for daddy, ride my cock malyshka,”

You slid back down onto her cock, head nuzzling into the crook of her neck as you felt the gush of arousal flush out around the faux dick and onto Natasha’s thighs. Hips touching hers, before you slowly started to grind.

“That’s a good girl,” She praised, and a moan left your lips as your speed quickened. Grinding went to lifting your hips and bouncing. Your coach’s hands went to your hips and guided your movements, your breath right against your neck. Panting as you had your nails dig into her clothed shoulder.

“Daddy, feels so good,” You moaned out your praise for how the redhead made you feel. Sniffling out as you felt the tug in your core, blinking heavily as you felt the overstimulation every time your clit brushed against the strap. 

“See how good daddy makes you feel baby, all you needed was a bargain for a good fuck and you do good. Are you that much of a slut Y/N, or is this just for me?” She asked, slowing your pace down as you sobbed out between moans. You thought you were going to be able for release as your reward, and all she is doing is refusing it? As frustrated as you are, you can’t help but moan loudly and love her more.

“All for you daddy, please let me cum, I’ll be your good girl,” You begged, and oh you beg so prettily for her. Softly whimpering, she guided your hips quicker again, feeling that sinking feeling come back as you inhaled sharply.

“Let it go baby, make a mess of daddy’s cock,” She permitted your release, and as soon as the sentence was over you snapped your hips faster and felt the coil snap. Juices flooding out of your entrance and over her dick, ruining Natasha’s dress pants and coating your thigh. You shuddered, movements stopping as you shakily breathed.

Thinking you were done with the hazed mind, it wasn’t until you registered the movement of your hips again that Natasha was moving you again, “daddy too much!”

The complaint left your lips lazily, all the redhead could do was scoff, “it’s not too much, daddy will tell you when it’s too much. Now be quiet and let daddy use you, hmm? Daddy needs to be taken care of too,”

You nodded weakly, not able to defy or complain to the redhead anymore. Letting her move your hips, the pleasure and overstimulation taking over but she had a point, Natasha needed to be taken care of right, it’s what you owed her. It wasn’t until you released two more times, and being covered in Natasha’s release is when she called it. She wanted to talk to you about what happened, but when you slumped against her with your nose scrunched, mouth partially open and eyes closed that she decided to let you rest. She put her pants back on, and then dressed you back up. She knew it wasn’t proper, but could she really resist? She left the building with you in her arms and in the passenger seat of her car. And that was all you remembered when you woke up in her arms the next morning, in her bed, with your face pressed in between her boobs without a care in the world for the responsibilities for the day, maybe this could work out after all.

[adverbally]

Intention

Written for the @stmarchmm prompt “courting rituals” | wc: 913 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steddie, Steve & Wayne, omega Steve, alpha Eddie, alpha Wayne, early relationship, asking permission to court, non-traditional relationship dynamics

———

Steve hesitates on the Munsons’ front porch. The trailer is familiar and comforting with its worn screen door and peeling paint, the warm light and organized chaos he knows to be hidden inside. This place has become more of a home to him than the house he grew up in.

He doesn’t want to lose that now.

But he thinks about Eddie nervously asking him on their first real date, hiding his grin behind the lock of hair he tugged across his face when Steve said yes; the way Eddie’s eyes had sparkled in the glow of the streetlight outside Steve’s house when he dropped him off after dinner, just before he leaned in for the best first kiss Steve has ever had; how Eddie had carefully brushed his wrist along the cuff of Steve’s sweater so he could still smell Eddie’s smoky ginger scent for the rest of the evening.

Steve wants that, all of that and more. The promise of that has to outweigh the fear of screwing everything up.

He knocks on the door.

It feels like an eternity before Wayne answers, already dressed in his work clothes for that evening’s shift. He seems surprised to see Steve, but he pushes open the screen door between them and waves him inside anyway. “Did Ed not tell you he has band practice? He should be home soon but you’re welcome to wait.”

“No, I…” Steve takes a deep breath and stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets so he doesn’t start fidgeting with his jacket zipper. “I wanted to talk to you, actually, if you have a minute?”

Wayne looks even more baffled now but gestures for Steve to take a seat in one of the mismatched chairs surrounding the small dining table. He doesn’t join him immediately, instead going into the kitchen and silently filling two glasses with water from the tap. When he returns, he sits in the seat across from Steve and slides one of the cups over to him.

“Thanks.” Steve’s mouth is so dry that his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, but he’s not sure he can take a drink without spilling or choking on it. Not until he says what he needs to say. Keeping his gaze on the scratched tabletop, he begins, “I think you probably know why I’m here.”

“I think so,” Wayne agrees. “And I think you know I need to hear you say it anyway.”

Steve nods, thinking of Eddie’s spicy warm scent to steel himself. “Eddie said you’re not very traditional. Your family, I mean. He offered to do this because he thought I wanted to do it, and I know he would’ve, but my dad…” He cuts off his rambling with a shake of his head. “Sorry, I’m nervous. Eddie said I shouldn’t be–”

“Steve. Take a breath.”

He does, then sips from his glass. Wayne doesn’t say anything while Steve gathers his thoughts for a long moment. Finally, he speaks again, deliberately. “Eddie is incredible. I care about him. I want to be with him.” It’s a gross understatement but if he starts elaborating, he might never stop. “I don’t give a shit what my dad thinks, but it matters to me what you think. Because it matters to Eddie. You’re the most important person in his life. He’s an adult and he can make his own decisions, so I’m not asking for permission, but… I wanted to inform you of my intention to court your nephew.”

Wayne nods, a slight tilt of his head acknowledging Steve’s declaration. “I accept it.”

“Okay.” He nods back, taps his fingers along the side of his water glass, listening to the quiet ping of his nails on its surface. “Thank you.” It’s almost disappointing how anticlimactic this was. He had stressed over it for days, and Wayne just… accepts him, just like that?

Like he can read Steve’s mind, Wayne leans closer. “You’re a good kid, Steve. You saved Ed’s life, you make him happy, you take care of that pack of kids. I think you’re good for him. Mellow him out some.”

“Yeah?” The compliment makes him warm from head to toe. Steve grins down at the table. “I think he’s good for me too.”

Wayne drains the last of the water in his glass. “I’d’ve given my permission, too, if you’d asked. Not that you need it.” He rises from his chair with a groan. “I gotta head to work now, but you’re welcome to wait for Ed. Make yourself at home.”

Steve stands as well, accepting the handshake Wayne offers him. “Thanks again, sir, I appreciate it.”

“Call me Wayne, son.” His mouth twists in a wry smile. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, then shrugs on his coat. “Make sure you’re being safe, now. I’m not ready to be a granddad yet.”

Wayne can surely see him blushing as Steve stammers, “No, we— I mean, we haven’t, I’m not—” When he realizes Wayne is fighting back his smile, he sighs, embarrassed but relieved to be in on the joke. “Okay, laugh it up.”

He waves to Wayne from the doorstep, watches the beat-up old truck kick up dust until it turns onto the asphalt outside the trailer park. The alpha’s scent lingers in the trailer, more woodsy than Eddie’s but still warm. Familiar.

Steve thinks he could get used to it.

[takenbypeter]

<3

Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 682

A/N: Just a lil pure fluff for Bucky. I’m in my Bucky era again

You stared at your phone. Something was wrong. 

Right?

See you soon <3

You read the text again focusing on the heart at the end. This wasn’t him, right? It must’ve been somebody impersonating him.

You sat at the counter of your kitchen in thought with your phone laying screen up while your hands were interlaced pushed against your lips. 

You were starting to get worried. Should you call somebody, should you call Sam? No they were together, if someone got to him then someone got to Sam too. Your mind was racing in thought. The only thing that broke its focus was the sound of the front door unlocking. 

Your eyes darted to the sound as you grabbed a nearby knife. But the hammering in your heart stopped once you saw Bucky entering your apartment. 

You let out a sigh putting the knife down as he threw his duffel bag to the floor before looking at you for the first time. 

“Woah, is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine. I just thought something went wrong on the mission for a moment, that's all.”

He frowned, taking his shoes off and stepping closer. “I said I’d see you soon, why would anything be wrong?”

He planted a kiss on your cheek, passing by you to grab a plum from the fruit bowl. 

“I don’t know, I guess your message just threw me off.”

He let out a hmm, sort of in agreement. But that was it. 

“Well the ending was the part that really threw me off.”

He nodded again as if that was that. 

You were going to have to yank the bull harder to get the answer from him. 

“So yeah, what was up with that? That’s not like you?”

“What?”

You pick up your phone, “Bucky, come on…” he looked at you as if having no idea what you’re talking about, you had to fill in the answer for him to continue the conversation, “the heart at the end! You’ve never done that before.”

“Oh I just thought it was a nice thing,” he shrugged it off as if it was no big deal. 

“It is a nice thing, a really sweet nice thing but it’s just it’s so random, you know?”

Bucky sighed, “yeah I figured, you know I don’t tell you enough how much I care for you, so I figured I’d start doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Telling you I love you.”

Now that. That took you aback. 

“Huh? You don’t tell me how much you love me?”

“Yeah…it took me so long to say it and some guys were talking on the mission and it just made me realize that I don’t say it as much as I should.” He finally turned to you fully, “I’m sorry, I’ll say it more often from now on.”

You wave your hands in the air trying to shut down this whole claim of his, “stop just stop. You say it all the time. It might not be verbal but you say it in the little things; when you make dinner, when I fall asleep and you carry me to the bed, when you buy me something because it reminds you of me—that’s all you telling me you love me Buck. Come on now don’t be silly,” you continue, clearly upset that he would even accuse himself like this, “and you do tell me you love me, so whatever those guys said they can buzz off. If anything it’s not you who doesn’t say it enough it’s me who doesn’t say it enough, so Bucky,” you go to where he’s now seated on a stool and you put two hands to his cheek squishing them in the process, “I love you.”

Bucky’s stoic expression breaks in your hands, knowing you’re passionate about his feelings and that you just want him to know how good he is, “I love you too.”

You grin and kiss him chastely. “Now aside from that, the heart was a cute touch. I'm definitely screenshotting this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes while a smile continued to decorate his lips. 

[inseobts]

Heyo, I hope you’re well and keeping nice and warm? I was wondering if you’d ever consider a continuation to Undercover Lovers, maybe with putting Hiyori in between? All good if you don’t think of continuing the story, take good care!! ❤️

Undercover Lovers Part 2

zoro x reader

while waiting for luffy and the others to return from whole cake island, you and the rest of the crew are forced to go undercover in wano, where your and zoro's cover as a loving couple quickly gets complicated.

PART 1

a/n: thank you cutie, hope you like it (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡

words count: 1.2k

tags: wci and wano spoilers, fake dating, romance, soft zoro

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The streets of Wano are quieter at night, but the tension in the air never fades. You and Zoro maintain your cover, still pretending to be a loving couple, but something has shifted again since the arrival of Kozuki Hiyori.

She had appeared unexpectedly, her presence like a gentle breeze, graceful, elegant, and far too comfortable in Zoro’s personal space. At first, you brushed it off, knowing that she had her reasons for staying close to him. But as the days passed, irritation settled in your chest like an immovable weight.

After escaping Orochi’s men, you, Zoro, Hiyori, and Toko take shelter in an old, hidden house in the Ringo region. The place is small but safe, with only a single futon, a few worn-out blankets, and enough food to last for a few days. You expected this to be just another part of the mission, but soon, it starts feeling like something else entirely.

Like you don’t belong.

Hiyori insists on tending to Zoro’s wounds, her delicate hands carefully wrapping bandages around his torso. You sit in the corner of the room, arms crossed, watching in silence. Toko giggles as she plays nearby, occasionally running up to Zoro and poking his arm, completely at ease.

“You should be more careful, Zoro-san,” Hiyori murmurs, her voice soft “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

Zoro huffs “I’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch.”

You clench your jaw. A scratch? He was bleeding all over the place earlier, and now he’s letting Hiyori fuss over him like a doting wife? You should be the one doing that, you’re supposed to be his partner in this mission, not her. And after what happened with that Miyamoto man you really started feeling you and Zoro could be closer.

Hiyori dabs a cloth against Zoro’s chest, far too gentle for your liking. You shift uncomfortably, biting back the urge to yank the bandages from her hands and do it yourself.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Toko’s voice snaps you from your thoughts.

You force a smile “Yeah, just tired.”

Hiyori glances at you but says nothing. Instead, she returns to Zoro, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she continues tending to him. The sight makes your stomach twist.

Over the next few days, things only get worse. The house is small, which means you’re constantly near Zoro, Hiyori, and Toko. And with each passing moment, you feel more like an outsider.

Zoro and Toko have a strange yet adorable bond. She clings to him, calling him “Zorojuro” and making silly faces until he chuckles, something he rarely does. Then there’s Hiyori, who always sits gracefully beside him, laughing at his blunt words, tending to his wounds, and cooking meals as if this is their normal life.

It’s like you’ve walked into someone else’s home.

One evening, after dinner, Toko jumps onto Zoro’s back, giggling “Zorojuro! Carry me like a samurai!”

Zoro grunts but obliges, lifting her effortlessly. She throws her arms out, pretending to fly, while Hiyori watches with a soft, affectionate expression.

“You’re quite good with children, Zoro-san,” she comments “I think you’d make a wonderful father.”

You freeze. The image before you is too much... Zoro carrying Toko like a father playing with his child, Hiyori watching like a proud mother. And then there’s you, sitting in the corner like some outsider who stumbled into their perfect little family.

Zoro scoffs at Hiyori’s words “Not happening.”

Hiyori only smiles knowingly “You never know.”

Something in you snaps. You abruptly stand up, your chair scraping against the wooden floor “I’m going for some air.”

Zoro’s gaze flickers toward you, but he doesn’t stop you. Hiyori, on the other hand, tilts her head curiously “Be careful, Y/N.”

You step outside, taking a deep breath. The cold Wano air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the sting in your chest. Why does this bother me so much?

You lean against the wall, closing your eyes. You’ve faced enemies, fought battles, and endured grueling missions. But somehow, watching Zoro with Hiyori and Toko feels like the hardest challenge yet.

Because for the first time, you’re not fighting an enemy.

You’re fighting the sinking feeling that maybe… you’re not needed here at all.

That night, when you finally return inside, Zoro is awake, sharpening his swords by the dim candlelight. Hiyori and Toko are already asleep, curled up comfortably in the futon. You hesitate in the doorway, watching the flickering light dance across Zoro’s face.

He doesn’t look up, but he speaks “You’ve been acting weird.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe “Weird how?”

Zoro sets his whetstone down and finally meets your gaze “You keep running off. Snapping at little things. Something bothering you?”

You scoff, shaking your head “Nothing. Just tired.”

His eyes narrow slightly “Bullshit.”

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples “What do you want me to say, Zoro? That I feel like I don’t belong here? That I feel like I’m watching some perfect little family while I’m just… there?”

Zoro blinks, clearly caught off guard. He sets his sword aside, his gaze unreadable “You think that?”

You gesture toward the sleeping figures “Look at them. Look at you. It’s like you fit into this life so easily. And me? I’m just—”

“An idiot” Zoro interrupts.

You glare at him “Excuse me?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair “You really think I see it that way? Hiyori and Toko are just people I helped. That’s it. And yeah, they’re nice, but they’re not—” He pauses, exhaling heavily “They’re not you.”

Your breath catches “What?”

Zoro leans forward slightly, his voice quieter now “I’m not doing this mission with them. I’m doing it with you.”

His words send a warmth through your chest, but before you can process it, Zoro steps closer, his gaze locked onto yours. The air between you grows thick, and then without another word he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is firm, reassuring, yet impossibly gentle. His hands find your waist, grounding you as your heart pounds against your ribs. You melt into him, gripping his yukata as if he’s the only thing keeping you steady.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours “That clear enough for you?” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You blink up at him, breathless “Yeah… pretty clear.”

“Go to sleep,” he mutters, picking up his sword again “Stop overthinking.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod. As you lay down, the warmth in your chest lingers, pushing away the doubts. Maybe you weren’t just an outsider after all.

Maybe you actually had a place here, with him.

The next morning, the atmosphere is tense, but different. You’re still processing Zoro’s words when Hiyori approaches him with a bright smile “Zoro-san, would you like me to prepare your meal first?”

Before you can react, Zoro casually drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer “Nah. Y/N always eats with me first.”

Hiyori blinks in surprise, her eyes flicking between the two of you “Oh… I see.”

Toko giggles “Y/N and Zorojuro are togeeeeether!”

You feel your face heat up, but Zoro doesn’t let go. Instead, he smirks slightly, squeezing your shoulder just enough to make you relax “Yeah”

Hiyori simply smiles, nodding.

You glance up at Zoro, your heart hammering. He looks down at you with an easy smirk, his fingers gently tracing your back in an absentminded yet possessive gesture. And for the first time in days, you don’t feel like an outsider.

You feel like you belong.

With him.

[lymtw]

Movie Night

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Friday night is unofficially movie night for you and Toji. You always go back and forth on what you should do and options are tossed out, like a nice dinner or trying food from someplace new or going to a view and sitting in the trunk of his car with blankets and some snacks. Most of the time, all of those options are thrown out the window and you just end up sitting in your bed or his bed and watching movies together. It doesn't matter what you do, it's always good, and the sleep overs make it even better.

A knock on your door signals Toji's arrival. Though you haven't had any caffeine since the coffee you treated yourself to earlier in the afternoon, you feel jittery. You grab the surprise you have for him and walk over to answer the door. As soon as you pull the door open, there he is, looking handsome as always, even when he's donning a simple t-shirt and some sweatpants. He gives you that smirk of his—the one that makes your chest feel all warm and fuzzy, and wakes up the butterflies in your stomach. He has a bag in his hand, filled with the snacks he promised to bring.

"Aren't you gonna say hi? Did you even miss me?" He teases, loving the way you gently nod as he speaks, like you're ready to prove that you did in fact miss him.

"Hi, Toji," you say, a smile spreading on your lips when you become overly aware of his focus on you. "I missed you. Come in." You move aside and let him into your cozy home, a place he's all too familiar with. He steps out of his slides and leaves them behind next to a pair of your shoes, his gaze never leaving you as he waits for you to lock the door after you shut it.

"What's that, doll?" Toji asks, when you approach him with full hands. There's a soft smile on your lips and your eyes shine like the stars that speckle the sky, as you extend the neatly folded pair of pajamas towards him. You have the most precious look on your face, as if you're showing him one of your most prized possessions—something you're proud of.

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to. I still have the receipt. I just thought it would be nice to wear matching pj's."

You're not asking for much. Toji knows this. This is nothing—you're not asking him for anything. All he can think as he takes in the adorable look on your face, is that it would be an absolutely disgusting, heinous crime, to deny you of something so simple, something that would make you so damn happy. He can't bring himself to destroy you like that. In doing that, he would be chipping his own heart.

"What are you talking about? Let me see them," he says, laying his hands out for you to place the clothes on. You carefully place them in his hands and watch as he unfolds the articles. You don't know what he's thinking as he inspects the shirt, but the hum he lets out is nerve wracking. The shirt's design is minimalistic. It's a black t-shirt with three little stars on the left side of the chest and a small crescent moon on the back, a few inches beneath the collar, and then the bottoms are in the same plaid style as yours, just dark green instead of red.

"Is this why you asked for my clothing sizes a couple days ago?" He asks, pulling down his pants out of nowhere. You can't even try to hold back your laugh as you look away after getting a glimpse of his boxers, the sound just slips out. "What are you laughing at? Nothing you haven't seen before," he says, grinning amusedly at your giggles.

He unfolds the comfy pair of pants and slides them on. Immediately after, his shirt comes off, and it's as if he wants you to notice—to ogle him—because he takes his sweet time getting the new shirt on. He catches your eyes trailing down his torso, and then, he hears it, the flustered giggle that tumbles off your lips, the sweet sound he was waiting on. He smirks as he puts the new shirt on, and once again waits for your reaction. The shirt is a thicker material and fits perfectly, so do the pants. You're now matching, just like you wanted.

"How do I look?" Toji asks, doing a simple hands in his pockets pose.

"Handsome and comfy," you respond, warmth reaching your face as you take in the sight.

"Yeah? You think so?" He asks as he picks up his previous outfit and drops it on the arm of your couch. He hears your affirmative hum and catches your little nod as he steps towards you.

"Hey, where's my kiss?" He asks, a sly little smirk curling his lips. His hands rest on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "I've been waiting hours and hours," he murmurs, green eyes absorbing the pretty smile that begins to form on your lips. "I want my reward."

You know that it won't be just a quick kiss with Toji, but still, you stand on your tippy toes and tilt your head upwards, waiting for Toji to meet you. He leans down, holding eye contact with you, as his lips come closer and closer. Once his nose is right next to yours and you feel his lips ghosting yours, he stops. He just loves the way you can't hide your fluster and how whenever you can't take it anymore, you resort to something you should have some sort of award for, by now—giggling.

"You're precious, ma," he says, his voice low. Dark eyes scan and re-memorize, for the nth time, every inch of your joyful expression, before finally he leans in the rest of the way, closing the distance between you and him.

His hands grip the back of your shirt as he feeds off your soft lips. Kiss after kiss, each one gentle and patient, demonstrating how much he truly longed for you. You feel butterflies in your stomach when you focus on the warmth of his body pressed against you and the way his lips chase yours for another kiss when you think he's finally going to pull away. His hands dip beneath your shirt to feel the bare, soft, and warm skin of your back. The simple touch is enough to spread goosebumps all over you.

The final kiss is long. Your lips lock, but Toji stops there, not going with the usual synchronized flow of the previous kisses, and when you don't expect it, he lets out deep hum and releases your lips with a more audible smack. He gives you a dumb grin in response to the stars that returned to your eyes.

"Do the thing, baby," he says, rubbing your back while he waits for you to snap out of your minor daze. He stays in the same slightly leaned position and waits for the softness of your lips to meet his skin. You press a kiss onto the smooth scar on the corner of his lips for an equal amount of time as the long kiss you shared before and smile softly when you pull away, your feet flat on the ground, again.

His hands come out of your shirt and he grins at how bashful you've become, despite the amount of times you've done this. You wouldn't immediately know what "do the thing" means, if you weren't so accustomed to doing it.

"Got your favorites," he says, nodding towards the bag he set down on your couch. "Did you keep up with your end of the deal?" He jokes, expecting a proud nod from you, because you've never let him down.

"Lemon-lime or Cool Blue Gatorade, right?" You ask, walking towards the kitchen.

"That's right, doll," he confirms, following behind you.

After the wine incident, he chooses to stay sober with you. It's not that he doesn't want to experience drinking with you and see you be more laid back and playful, it's the fact that he knows that that version of you is altered by alcohol. Sober you isn't that way, and while he loves every version of you, your natural way of being is his favorite.

He could spend hours flustering and teasing you, watching the way you coil in on yourself when he stares at you for too long. Feeling the way your body melts against his when he holds you is one of his favorite things. He likes being able to coax you into voicing your thoughts, wants, and needs. Maybe you're a little more honest about deeper matters when you're inebriated, but Toji is smart enough to know that it's practically involuntary. It's like your secrets are being spilled without your permission and while he's glad to know these things in the moment, he would rather hear them from you when you aren't drunk.

"I got you both. I didn't know which you liked more, so I just got both of them," you say, grabbing them off one of the shelves in your fridge. You turn and hand the cold drinks to Toji before going back to grab the one you got for yourself. You step back and shut the fridge door, smiling at him when he just stares at you.

"What?" You question.

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Just silently observes you standing in your small kitchen, in comfy, baggy pajamas that match his own. You're shifting on your feet, under his gaze, waiting for a response, but the response that he has in mind is a little too much for the lightness of the night. Something about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, something about coming home to you every day, something about putting a shiny rock on your finger. Something big, because his feelings for you are big.

"Nothing, ma," he says, tucking both juice bottles between his forearm and his side, so that he can rest his hand on the back of your neck as you walk back out to the living room. You grab the bag of snacks off the couch and head to your bedroom together.

You set the bag of snacks on the bed and sit down on your side. Toji has a designated side on your bed, which is, of course, the other side.

"Light on or off?" Toji asks, shutting the door.

"Off?" You say, with a questioning tone, leaving room for him to object. Shortly after, the room goes dark. Only your TV, which sits idly on its home screen, creates light that illuminates the walls. Toji walks around your bed and settles into his side.

"What are we watching, this time?" He asks, reaching for the pack of sour gummy bears.

"It's your turn to choose," you say, offering the remote to him. "Last time we watched a bunch of Disney movies. I don't know if you wanna do that again," you say, smiling sheepishly.

"You doubt your taste in things too much, ma. Those Toy Story movies were pretty good. Show me another one of your favorites."

"Alright," you say, in compliance. You go to the Disney+ application and search for another favorite. Nothing too sing song-y, because you feel like you're on thin ice already in playing these animated movies for him. You got away with Jessie singing "When She Loved Me" in Toy Story 2, because even he thought the poor cowgirl got a rough deal when she was abandoned.

"Ratatouille?" He reads. "What's that about?"

"We're about to watch it," you say, briefly turning over and smiling.

He hums as he looks over the caption beneath the title that explains the synopsis of the movie.

"The rat's gonna cook? This should be interesting."

Lo and behold, he's hooked. Neither of you has made a peep and you're both mindlessly snacking on candy and chips, sipping on Gatorade, while watching the crazy things in this rat's life unfold. Him and his brother survived being struck by lightning and being shot at by an old lady with a shotgun. That part seemed to amuse Toji plenty.

Towards the end of the movie, Toji turns to you with sour sugar unknowingly speckled on his lips from the candy he's been feasting on, and leans in to press kisses to your temple and cheek.

"Watch," you say, smiling at the softness that meets your skin.

"I'm watching," he murmurs, continuing on with his sticky kisses.

"Look, they're stealing food from the kitchen," you explain, shocked despite already knowing what's going to happen.

"Mm," Toji hums, seemingly interested, but continuing on with his affectionate, sugary pecks.

"Look, you're gonna miss it," you say, giggling as you gently push his face away. It completely backfires on you, because he just grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand down to continue on with his kisses.

"Come here," he says, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you so that you're sitting right beside him, your thigh touching his and your shoulder pressed into his side. With a few more pecks to your cheek and a couple to the top of your head, he faces forward and continues watching the movie.

"Damn, they got shut down?" He says, in disbelief.

"Mhm," you hum in response, unable to answer verbally due to the chips in your mouth.

"Oh shit, they're back," Toji says, taking in the remainder of the movie. "And Remy cooks without controlling Spaghetti?"

"Linguini," you correct, with a laugh. "But yeah. Linguini's a waiter, now, and Remy's a chef."

The artistic end credits begin to appear and you turn to look at Toji.

"So... what did you think?" You ask.

"That had more action than The Terminator," he jokes. "The old lady with the shotgun was trying take out Remy and his brother and then she tried to hit the entire colony of rats with gas."

You giggle as he goes in depth of what he remembers, as if to prove to you that he was watching.

"I liked that one too," he says, with a smirk. "Would definitely watch it, again."

"Good," you chirp, internally proud that you were able to show him something good. "Your turn," you say, offering him the remote.

"You go again," he says, grabbing another sour gummy to dodge the remote.

"Toji," you mumble. "You should choose something you like. I wouldn't mind watching something new, too."

In truth, Toji doesn't want to watch explosive, gore infested, action movies when he's with you. It's the only genre he's thoroughly explored apart from some comedy, so he leaves you to do the choosing of the movies and shows you watch together. It's a great way for him to give new things a chance, because even though it seems like he's always the one showing you how and loosening the tight grip you have on the shell that obscures you, he's constantly learning from you, as well.

"How 'bout this, baby... If you choose the next one, i'll choose the next three," he offers, squeezing the plush of your thigh.

"You promise?" You say, eyes darting from where his enormous hand rests on your leg, to his face.

"'Course. I don't lie to you," he says.

"Okay, then," you say, moving onto a different platform to find another movie.

"While I wait..." he mumbles, a soft smile curling on his lips. His hand moves from your thigh to your waist as he wraps his arm around you. He goes back to kissing the side of your face, soft, wet little smooches planted along your cheek and your jaw.

"Gorgeous girl," he hums, his voice a soft breath against your skin. "I'm dying to kiss those pretty lips."

Your lips curl as you continue skimming through the section of recommended movies. You can feel his eyes on you, tracing over the features of your face.

"Just a quick one and then i'll stop bugging you," he requests. "Please? You're teasing me without even trying."

"But I'm not even doing anything," you argue, with a small laugh.

"That's what i'm saying," he says, in agreement. "You're not even trying. You're just pretty like that. Makes me wanna kiss you 'til you can't breathe."

"What? You said a quick one, just a few seconds ago," you remind, your smile widening at the way he changed his mind about wanting the minimum of your affection.

"Yeah, but you know how greedy I am about you, mama. I want more and more of you, all the time." His gaze flits between your coy smile and the softness that lingers in your eyes. You haven't paused your skimming of the movies, but he knows you're staring at the screen, mindlessly, feeling his attention. "You want me to beg?"

"No," you instantly respond. It's the one thing you never allow him to do. He's too good to you, for you to make him beg. "You don't have to do that."

"So, kiss me, sweetheart," he says, shifting positions so that he's lying down on his side. He pats the pillow that cushions your lower back, signaling for you to lie down. Like the obedient thing you are for him, you click play on the random movie you landed on and set the remote aside, before lying down on your side, facing Toji.

"What movie did you decide on?" He asks, dragging his knuckles tenderly over your cheek.

"I didn't look at the name," you answer, softly.

"We can skip the intro, right?" He murmurs, smirking when he feels the warmth that reaches your face beneath his palm. His thumb strokes the skin of your cheek, back and forth as he keeps up with your gaze, even when it derails from his due to the tension in the moment.

"Mhm," you hum.

"Come here," he instructs, his voice low, almost a whisper. His leg goes between your legs, just sitting there to achieve more physical contact with you. It doesn't go further than the desire to be innocently caught up in you and feel you pressed against him.

The first kisses—if they can even be called that—are tentative and teasing. Lips merely ghosting each other, barely grasping contact. It's enough to have your heart thudding rapidly in your chest. You hear a warm, rumbled chuckle coming from Toji.

"Closer," Toji hums, his hand splaying on your back and pushing you forward into him.

Finally, your lips connect. The feeling is warm, like you're being held, securely, without any intention of being released. The sound of the movie in the background is a mere whir, unheard through the imaginary force field created around you and Toji. It's just you and him, close as can be, living like nothing else matters as long as you have this love. Through gentle caresses, one unsteady heartbeat and an even unsteadier one, things are good.

Toji swears he will never feel this content and at peace anywhere else. You have a way of making him feel like he is everything. The way your eyes twinkle when you see him, the way you bare your soul to him every time you smile—it's love. It's pure, unadulterated love. He's your friend, your lover, your confidant, and he will never settle for being anything less than those things.

With one more brush of your lips, you both put the kissing on hold and lay there, just a little bit breathless. His hand rests on your lower back, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"I love you so fucking much, doll. You know that?" He murmurs, his attention bouncing between your lips that won't stop calling for him to kiss them and the warmth in your eyes. "Fridays aren't just another day, anymore. Same for every day I get to see you or even just talk to you on the phone if we can't be together." A soft sigh escapes his nose, followed by a very brief pause. "You just know how to make things better, and I wish you would believe it because you feel that way too, not just because i'm telling you."

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"No. I don't want that, baby. Tell me something else."

"I love you, Toji," you say, ensuring that you speak clearly so that he gets the important words you need him to hear. "I like being around you. You'll never know just how safe you make me feel, but I do want you to know that it goes past the physical aspect."

He smiles, the expression soft, not telling of the giddiness that just spread throughout his body. A soft hum, followed by a somewhat frustrated sounding groan, precedes you being pulled into his tight embrace. You can't help the giggles that eventually evolve into laughter that just spills from you when he bombards your face with kisses. His lips press against your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips before he actually leaves a rapid barrage of pecks on your lips. Deep chuckles slip through his affectionate assault when you plant your hand on his chest, weakly pushing at him through the joyous sound of your laugh.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your entire body shaking through your nonstop laughter. Despite it being nighttime, Toji feels like he's kissing and cuddling with the sun. His cheeks almost hurt from smiling so much.

With one final, elongated kiss to your forehead, he relents and lets you catch your breath. Soft giggles continue to flow past your lips as you work on composing yourself.

"You drive me crazy, doll," he says, grinning at how your chest still slightly heaves. He could do this every night with you, in a shared bed, that is in your shared bedroom, in your shared home.

"Alright, let's see what this movie's about," he mutters, flipping onto his back. "Come here." By now, the two words are a staple to Toji's conversations with you, because he always wants you attached to him. He outstretches his arm, and waits for you to scooch over and lay your head on his chest. Once you settle in, his arm wraps around you, tightly.

As you both try to catch up on what is going on in the movie, you realize none of it is making sense. You think it might be futile to try and understand what is happening when it may have been explained during the intro, but neither you nor Toji mind it, and just continue watching through the confusion, because the intro to this movie was never going to be as good as the moment you shared during it.

[sully-s]

Open in a different window to zoom in. So this is just a deep dive behind all the stuff I put in my last post I rolled back my picture before I did all the lighting and color changes to make certain details more visible. Fun fact I almost scrapped this whole picture at this stage because A. I was just burned out; this piece took me forever. B. As I kept getting more and more "neat" ideas to stuff in, I lost any real focal point, especially with the color scheme. After hours of trying to fix it in PS and failing, I was about to give up. I was like fuck it make it a night scene. Let me tell you all a world of lighting makes lol.

Anyways, enough about my struggles, let me give you the tour.

I love the idea that this corkboard was originally Phoenix's mood board in the beginning it just had his childhood pics from like the yearbook and that one time Larry got a polaroid camera. Then, a new year clipping about Edgeworth being Demon Prosecutor which led Phoenix to make his thesis about court drawings just so he could watch and see with his two eyes how much Edgeworth changed. - Then, later, he added Mia because she was his mentor. then Vinny (from the movie "My Cousin on Vinny") because like Vinny, Phoenix never understands court procedure but has very good instincts; and last Elle Woods who also went to law school for a boy basically his spirit lawyer lol. - Later, after Maya joined, she thought it would be funny to replace Phoenix's real reason to Steel Samurai. Also, it was fun because Will Powers was their client, so he should be their reason. Phoenix let them stay because it made Maya happy, and Phoenix knew that with Mia's death, she needed it. - I was going to add a sticky note from Miles that he approved, but I do like that Miles will never admit out loud or in writing that he enjoys the show. - A year later, Pearls tries to replace all the Steel Samurais with her drawings of Maya. Which Phoenix encouraged her to make during Maya's disappearance because facts. - Tid Bit: I was sad to cover up Will Powers' signature I really liked how it came out

Moving away from the mood board idea, I like that the cork board just became Phoenix's catch all. So his Law Degree which isn't the original it's just a sad printed-out version of what should've been his fancy embossed one. I like the idea that Phoenix never went to graduation. (Can't be bothered he's on a mission to save his childhood bff.)

Lastly are postcards from Edgeworth, his way of making up for all the years he couldn't write back to young Phoenix. - Also, this picture takes place some time after the 3rd game but before the disbarment.

Calendar whiteboard that I forgot to add the last row too so I guess in Japaniforina the months are only 25 days long.

I spent a frustrating amount of time trying to figure out the logistics of this paper trail. It really doesn't need to make sense It just has to make the room messier. - You can imagine Phoenix is looking over phone records or court stenographer's record.

So Edgeworth is a nerd; we all know this. But it annoys me just a tad that his nerd-isum is always just Steel Samurai (like I get it, it's canon), but all geeks have many fandom loves, okay. - So I just love the idea that Phoenix and Edgeworth (who are in a relationship at the time of this pic ) watch Better Call Saul, and they both bought each other a little plushie of the character they joke is them. -Edgeworth bought Saul for Phoenix (because of Saul's heart, not because he does shady practices), And Phoenix bought Kim (because she a really good lawyer who seems cold and is a workaholic who would break the rules for their Saul (used phoenix's badge in the third game )) - They keep each other's plushies in their offices, and if one of them stops by when the other isn't in, they put a sticky note on it. - Which we can see that Phoenix did need reminding because, as you can see, the date is 18th, and no mention of a dinner ;)

7. Now the whole reason I drew this picture was too show off my headcanon that Phoenix has a Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law action figure that you know Gumshoe got him after Edgeworth vs. State happen because of Polly. And we all know that man would be a fan of old Hanabara cartoons. - I've loved this stupid tid-bit of a headcanon that it's been haunting me for years. That's it; that's all I really wanted to say with this piece, and look where it got

[razorblade180]

Take it back

Jaune:*polishing sword*

Blake:Hey there, old timer.

Jaune:Heh, hello there. Is it time for us to vote on dinner?

Blake:Almost. I’m stopping by now since I’d probably have a hard time talking to you alone later.

Jaune:What’s up? Need help surprising Yang with something?

Blake:Nope. Remember back at Beacon when our two teams had to make schedules together because Weiss demanded joint training and team building?

Jaune:I remember getting yelled out for spilling the whiteout.

Blake:Yeah that was a rough day for you. Anyways, I remember having to be in charge of the schedule since some people would obsess over it while others forgot to bring or update it. I didn’t mind. Memorizing dates is easy for me. *pulls out box* Happy birthday.

Jaune:…Huh, imagine that. Thank you.

Blake:Don’t tell you forgot?

Jaune:No, I just…it hasn’t mattered for a long time. I didn’t bring it up today because honestly, it bothers me a little. Keeping track in the Ever After was hard; after a while it felt lonely. Is it weird I don’t like my birthday much?

Blake:No. I don’t care for mine either. I spent of couple of them protesting or hiding before.

Jaune:That seriously sucks.

Blake:It’s life. I let the others celebrate it cause it makes them happy. That’s enough for me, but I’ll keep yours quiet. Figure you had a reason.

Jaune:Thanks. This means a lot actually.

Blake:You haven’t even opened it yet. Anyways, I gotta go. Ruby has paid me off to help support her campaign for the seafood restaurant for their dessert. *walks away*

Jaune:Didn’t know you take bribes.

Blake:It’s a seafood restaurant. *closes door*

The boy let out a chuckle. He put his blade down and unwrapped the blue birthday paper to reveal the densest planner he’s ever seen. The cover revealed it could plan the next three years out. Who would’ve thought Blake could be so cheeky? Jaune opened it to find his birthday but instead found another surprise. The dates were crossed out.

He flipped the page. Again, all crossed out. Page after page showed each individual day crossed out well into the future. Jaune couldn’t make sense of it at first. He took another look at the gift box and found an additional items. Multiple bottles of whiteout alongside a written note.

“You’ve done your fair share of planning ahead. Now reclaim your time day by day. The Rusted Knight has had its time; it’s your turn now. May it be spontaneous and a splendid do over, dear friend.”

Jaune was absolutely speechless. All he could do was grab the whiteout and clear away today’s date, leaving it full of endless possibilities. He closed it slowly as he thought of all the ways he could really reclaim lost time. Sharpening his blade was not it. He got up and left to join his friends in living area where they were debating.

Nora:Ah! Perfect timing. Jaune, please tell these psychopaths why we should have breakfast for dinner tonig-

Jaune:I want steak.

Ruby and Nora:What!?

Yang and Weiss:*hi five*

Nora:But why steal of all things!?

Ruby:It’s boring!

Jaune:Maybe, but we’d get free desserts today if it’s a special occasion.

Blake:*smiles*

Ren:Special occasion?

Jaune:Yeah. *smiles* Today’s my birthday.

NRYRW:WHAT!?

Oscar:Oh, Happy Birthday.

[calypso-rt]

Rafe x  A sweet kind Pouge!Reader: Kind of s1, with his hate against Pouges/still fighting too see them as equals. Maybe a oneshot-two shot? Reader’s having bad mental health/depression at the moment and so she decides to head out into nature and camp somewhere for the night to escape. Rafe is fed up with Ward who is constantly belittling him, needing a break and heads to nature to do the same. They both end up getting lost, and losing some of their equipment. Reader is plain and simple not a wilderness person and Rafe has bad luck. Their paths end up crossing and they are forced to be there for each other for the night, or well Rafe is the only one complaining, she tries to be cordial and friendly. Maybe his annoyance for her further effects her depression since she’s already feeling like a burden for existing. And maaaaaybe……..they have to share a sleepingbag together in order to keep warm and Rafe is the one who takes that step, not wanting her to be cold and starts feeling protective over her

A/N: what a creative request, I'm so honored you trusted me to create a story out of this. i've fallen in love with sweet pogue reader and rafe thanks to YOUU <3

out of the woods

-> S1 Rafe x F!Sweet!Pogue!Reader

RAFE'S POV

Rafe tells himself he’s not running.

He’s just... getting space. That’s all.

A break.

A second to breathe before Ward’s voice drills another hole into his skull, reminding him that he’s a disappointment. That he needs to step up. That no matter what he does, it’s never enough.

So, yeah. Maybe driving out here, parking his car on the side of a dirt road, and hiking into the woods wasn’t the most well thought out plan. But what was the alternative? Sitting in that house, listening to Ward’s condescending remarks over dinner? Watching Rose pretend not to hear it?

He needed out. Just for a night.

The thing is, Rafe doesn’t actually like nature.

Not in the let’s go on an adventure way.

But right now, the silence is the only thing keeping him from snapping.

He walks aimlessly, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw clenched so tight it aches. The sun is sinking behind the trees, shadows stretching longer across the ground, and he probably should’ve figured out where he was going before stomping off into the woods like an idiot.

He should go back.

But then he thinks about Ward, about the look on his face earlier, the disappointment etched into the syllable of his name, and Rafe keeps walking.

Because right now, being lost out here sounds a hell of a lot better than going home.

...

YOUR POV

You’re not sure when you got lost, but you’re here now.

And here is officially nowhere.

Like Rafe, you told yourself this would help. That getting away for a night, leaving everything behind, would give you the reset you needed. That if you could just be alone, away from the noise, the expectations, the constant weight pressing down on your chest, maybe, just maybe, you’d feel something again.

The forest is too quiet and your backpack is starting to feel heavier, pressing against your shoulders, and when you pull your phone out for the hundredth time, it’s the same thing: No Service.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest.

It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

Then, just as you’re debating whether to keep walking or set up camp, a branch snaps behind you.

You whip around so fast it makes you dizzy.

And standing there, looking equally displeased to see you, is Rafe Cameron.

You freeze.

He stares.

For a second, neither of you say anything, just blinking at each other like you’re both trying to process this nightmare.

Then Rafe exhales sharply, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. "No fucking way."

You swallow, the immediate panic of being lost momentarily replaced with an entirely new kind of dread.

Because Rafe Cameron hates Pogues.

And now you’re stuck in the woods. With him.

You offer a nervous smile, shifting your weight. “Uh… hey?”

Rafe looks you up and down, his lips curling. "Of course it’s a damn Pogue." He shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “This is just fucking great.”

Your stomach twists.

“I—um,” you clear your throat, forcing yourself to stay calm, “I think I might be lost.”

Rafe barks out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Shocker.”

You frown, fingers tightening around the straps of your backpack. “Are you lost?”

His jaw tics. “No.”

You glance pointedly at the overgrown path behind him. “Are you sure?”

Rafe glares. “I don’t need some Pogue thinking she’s smarter than me.”

Your face flushes. “That’s not what I—”

He lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “Out of all the people to run into, it had to be you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not take it personally. You know how Rafe is. How he sees you.

Still, it stings.

You shift uncomfortably. “Look, I know you hate me, but I—”

“Hate is a strong word,” Rafe interrupts flatly. Then, after a pause, he scoffs. “Actually, no. That’s accurate.”

You blink, throat tightening.

Okay. Ouch.

You try again, softer. “I didn’t plan on running into you, either. But maybe we should stick together? Just until we find a way back?”

Rafe lets out an incredulous laugh, stepping closer, his height suddenly a little more intimidating. “Yeah? And why the hell would I do that?”

You hesitate. “Because… being alone out here is dangerous?”

Rafe just snorts. “I think I’d take my chances.”

Your stomach twists again, but you push through it, offering him the smallest, most tentative smile. “I don’t want to be a bother, I promise. I just think we’d be safer if we—”

“Holy shit” Rafe groans, tilting his head back like you’re the most exhausting thing in the world. “You sound so fucking desperate.”

Your breath catches.

Something cold curls in your chest.

You look down, trying not to let it show, but Rafe is still staring at you, eyes sharp, waiting for you to fold.

And maybe a part of you wants to.

But instead, you inhale, steadying yourself, and lift your chin just slightly.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Well, I’ll just keep looking on my own then.”

You turn to leave, but something in Rafe’s expression flickers.

It’s quick. Barely there.

But when you take a step, he exhales sharply through his nose, muttering, “Jesus Christ.”

You hesitate.

"Fine."

Your lips part in surprise, but Rafe just glares at you again, like he’s already regretting it.

“But if you slow me down," he says sharply, "I’m leaving your ass behind.”

You nod quickly, relieved despite the venom in his voice.

“Got it.”

Rafe grumbles something under his breath and turns on his heel, marching through the trees like he knows exactly where he’s going.

You don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you’re stuck with him, or the fact that, despite everything, you still don’t totally hate the idea.

...

RAFE'S POV

This is a fucking disaster.

Not just being lost. Not just the dwindling daylight or the fact that his dad is going to lose his shit when he realizes Rafe never came home.

No.

The real disaster? The fact that he’s stuck out here with you.

A Pogue. A sweet one, which somehow makes it worse.

Because if you were loud, whiny, or even remotely annoying, he’d have no problem ditching you. But instead, you’re... nice. Soft-spoken. The kind of person who smiles too easily and looks at the world like it won’t chew you up and spit you out.

It’s infuriating.

Almost as infuriating as the goddamn raccoon currently running off with the last granola bar.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Rafe hisses, watching in pure horror as the little shit disappears into the underbrush.

You stifle a giggle.

Rafe whips around, glaring. “Oh, you think this is funny?”

You press your lips together, fighting a smile. “It’s kind of funny.”

Rafe exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “This is unreal.”

It’s bad enough that he’s stuck out here, but now this? First, his phone battery dies, then he loses his flashlight in the river, and now a raccoon has robbed him.

At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if a bear showed up just to mock him.

You shift beside him, your small backpack looking laughably unhelpful in a survival situation. “Do you have anything else?”

“No, I don’t have anything else,” Rafe snaps, standing up so fast it makes him dizzy. “Unless you have some magic Pogue survival tricks up your sleeve, we’re screwed.”

You frown slightly, like his tone stings, but you don’t snap back. You just sigh, thoughtful.

“Well… we still have water,” you point out. “And I do know a few things.”

Rafe scoffs. “Yeah, sure.”

“I do!”

“Like what?”

You glance at the sky, then back at him. “Like how to navigate using the stars.”

Rafe blinks.

You cross your arms, lifting your chin just slightly. “If we can get to higher ground, I can figure out which direction is south. And if we follow that, we should eventually hit a road.”

Rafe stares at you.

Then, deadpan: “You read that in a book, didn’t you?”

You flush. “…Maybe.”

He groans.

“Hey!” you protest. “It’s better than nothing.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You really think some random survival tip is gonna get us out of this?”

You shrug. “Do you have a better idea?”

Rafe opens his mouth, then closes it.

Because no. He doesn’t.

And that pisses him off more than anything.

He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hate this.”

You smile, just a little. “You hate everything.”

Rafe glares.

But after a long pause, after another sharp exhale, another glance at the sky, he grits his teeth.

“Fine.”

Your eyes brighten slightly. “Fine?”

“We’ll do it your way,” he mutters. “But if this doesn’t work, I’m never letting you live it down.”

You smirk. “Deal.”

And just like that, you take the lead, heading toward the ridge in the distance.

Rafe follows, grumbling under his breath.

Because if there’s one thing worse than being lost in the woods it’s the fact that, just this once, a Pogue might actually be right.

...

YOUR POV

You two had stopped to camp for the night since it was far too dark to see much.

You really should have packed better.

The cold seeps into your bones, cruel and relentless, as the temperature drops lower than you ever could’ve anticipated. Your thin top does nothing to stop the shivers wracking your body. You curl in on yourself, trying to will warmth into your limbs, but it’s no use.

You’re freezing.

And Rafe notices.

Which is just great.

Because he’s already annoyed at being stuck with you, already made it painfully clear that you’re nothing but an inconvenience to him. And now you’re sitting here, shivering like an idiot, proving exactly what he already believes. That you’re a burden.

Like you don’t already feel that way every day. Like you haven’t spent the past few weeks drowning in that feeling, in the crushing weight of your own existence, in the nagging thought that everyone would be better off if you just disappeared for a while.

You left home to escape that. To be alone, to not feel like dead weight for once.

And yet, here you are, making things harder for someone else again.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your lips together as you try to control your breathing. You don’t want to cry in front of Rafe Cameron. He already thinks you’re pathetic.

A sharp sigh cuts through the silence.

Then:

“For fuck’s sake.”

You flinch slightly, curling in tighter, bracing for more. More grumbling, more complaints, more proof that you shouldn’t even be here.

Instead, Rafe moves.

There’s some rustling, a lot of grumbling, and then something drops into your lap.

You blink, looking down at the sleeping bag he’s just shoved toward you.

“I’m not letting you freeze to death,” he mutters.

You stare.

Then, hesitantly, “I—Rafe, this is yours.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he snaps, already looking irritated with himself. “But you clearly didn’t come prepared, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you turn into a fucking icicle.”

Your fingers clutch the fabric, hesitation curling in your chest.

You don’t deserve this. Not his warmth, not his help. You’re the reason he’s miserable, the reason everything always seems to go wrong.

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Bullshit,” he huffs. “You’re shaking so hard I can hear your teeth chattering.”

You bite your lip. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Rafe stills.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything.

Then, quietly, so quietly you almost miss it...

“You’re not.”

Your breath catches.

It doesn’t sound like a grand declaration. Doesn’t even sound particularly convincing. If anything, it sounds like he’s just as surprised by the words as you are.

But then he exhales sharply, like he’s pissed at the situation rather than at you, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Just—fuck, just get in the sleeping bag.”

You hesitate.

He glares.

“Now, Pogue.”

You huff but finally, reluctantly, do as he says, scooting into the sleeping bag. The fabric is still warm from his body heat, and you try not to shiver too obviously as it sinks into your skin.

It helps, but not enough.

Your body is still too cold, your fingers still too stiff, your breath still coming out in sharp, uneven puffs.

Rafe watches you for a second. Then curses under his breath.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Move over.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

Rafe doesn’t repeat himself. Just shoves his way into the sleeping bag beside you, and suddenly, it’s small. Too small.

Your heart lurches into your throat as his body presses against yours, heat radiating from him in a way that makes you go still, breath hitching.

It’s awkward. Stiff. Rafe keeps as much distance as possible, jaw clenched, muscles tight.

You don’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be stuck pressed against you either.

Minutes pass. The tension is thick, the silence heavier than the cold.

Then, gradually, Rafe shifts.

He exhales, like he’s battling something within himself. And then, with an irritated grumble, he moves closer, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his chest.

“Just shut up and go to sleep,” he mutters.

You don’t say anything.

Because, despite everything, despite the hostility, the insults, the fact that he hates Pogues, he’s holding you.

Keeping you warm.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel completely alone.

...

RAFE'S POV

The silence is... weird.

Not that he expects nonstop talking from you, but usually, you have something to say. Some little comment, some naive observation about the world that makes him roll his eyes. Usually, you're at least trying to be optimistic, to be annoying in that soft, persistent way.

But right now?

Right now, you're just quiet.

And he doesn’t like it.

Not that he cares.

Because he doesn’t.

It’s just that he’s used to you pushing back. Even when he insults you. Even when he makes it painfully clear that you have no business being stuck together out here.

He frowns, staring up at the sliver of sky visible through the trees. The stars are bright. Cold. Kind of like the way you feel curled up beside him: small, shivering, barely taking up any space at all.

He should probably say something.

Not something nice, obviously, but something.

"Didn’t think you could go this long without complaining," he mutters. "Almost impressive."

There’s a long pause.

Then, you speak quietly, barely more than a whisper:

"Didn’t want to be more of a burden than I already am."

Rafe freezes.

Something in his chest twists, sharp and sudden, like a knife slipping between his ribs.

He shouldn’t care.

You're a Pogue. You're not his problem.

And yet.

It’s a familiar feeling, isn’t it? The weight of being too much, of never measuring up, of being an inconvenience to the people who are supposed to care about you. He’s spent years swallowing down that same bitterness, hearing it from his dad’s mouth over and over until it sank into his bones.

But it’s different, hearing you say it about yourself.

Because you're—

You're just...

Fuck.

Rafe exhales sharply. He doesn’t know how to comfort people. Doesn’t even know why he wants to. But before he can think better of it, before he can convince himself to just shut up and let it go, the words slip out.

"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

You stiffen slightly. He can feel it, the way your body tenses, like you had expected him to agree. Like you're used to people agreeing.

Rafe grits his teeth.

"You’re not a fucking burden."

You don't say anything.

Don't argue, don't push back, don't believe him.

And maybe that pisses him off more than it should.

He doesn’t let you respond. Just shifts slightly, his grip tightening around you, his arm pulling you a fraction closer. Like if he holds on tight enough, it’ll force you to understand.

You exhale softly, a small, exhausted breath. Then, finally, you relax against him.

Rafe stares up at the stars.

His usual frustration feels distant, drowned out by something heavier. Something he doesn’t know how to name.

All he knows is that he hates the way that sentence sounded coming from your lips.

And that if anyone ever made you feel that way, he might actually kill them.

...

YOUR POV

The first thing you register is warmth.

Not the biting cold from last night, not the shivers rattling your bones, but actual warmth, steady and solid against your back.

The second thing you register is movement.

A slow, deliberate shift, like someone trying not to wake you.

Your eyes blink open to the soft gold of early morning, sunlight filtering lazily through the trees. The sky is still streaked with traces of pink, and the forest hums with the sound of waking birds.

And then you realize...

Rafe is still holding you.

Not tightly. Not like last night, when his grip had been almost protective, but enough that when you shift, his arm instinctively tenses around you before he seems to catch himself and pulls away.

For a second, neither of you say anything.

Then...

"You drool in your sleep."

You blink, turning to squint up at him.

He’s already sitting up, rubbing the back of his neck, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff. "Do not."

He raises an eyebrow, glancing at his shoulder. "Uh, yeah, you do."

Your cheeks heat as you sit up too, trying to gather the mess of your tangled blanket. "Well, you talk in your sleep."

Rafe snorts. "Bullshit."

"Swear on my life. You were mumbling about stocks or something." You bite back a grin, tilting your head. "Weirdly on brand, actually."

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Kill me."

"Not before breakfast."

That earns you an unimpressed side-eye, but there’s no real bite behind it.

And that’s when it really hits you.

Something is... different.

Rafe is still Rafe: gruff, impatient, rolling his eyes at every other thing you say, but there’s something softer now, something lingering just beneath the surface.

Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t snap at you when you try to help pack up.

Maybe it’s the way he hands you your stuff without a single sarcastic remark.

Or maybe it’s the fact that when you mention using a new strategy again to navigate back, he actually listens.

He still complains about it, obviously.

But when you point out the right direction, he follows without arguing.

Progress.

By the time you finally spot the road in the distance, your body aches, your hair is a mess, and you’re starving.

But you’re... weirdly okay.

And Rafe?

Well.

He doesn’t seem as eager to get rid of you as he did last night.

You glance at him as you both step onto solid ground again, brushing dirt off your clothes. He looks over at you at the same time, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he scoffs.

"You look like shit."

You sigh dramatically. "Wow, what a charmer."

He smirks, but it fades just as quickly. For a second, he hesitates, shifting his weight.

"Need a ride?"

You blink.

He nods toward the road, where his truck is parked just up the hill, miraculously not stolen or trashed. "Back to the Cut, or wherever the hell you came from."

Something in your chest flutters.

Not because of the offer itself, but because of him.

Because you’re pretty sure that last night, he would’ve left you to figure it out yourself.

But now?

Now, he’s offering.

You tuck your hands into your sleeves, biting back a small, knowing smile. "That depends," you tease. "Am I allowed to touch the aux?"

Rafe exhales sharply, shaking his head as he starts toward the truck. "Christ. I take it back."

You laugh, trailing after him.

Maybe you’re still just a Pogue to him.

But maybe Rafe is starting to realize it's not as black and white as it had seemed.

[twoplayergaymers]

Promise- I. Midoriya

Izuku’s got your heart, but he’s still too afraid to give you his.

Notes- quirkless au, late teens/early twenties, mentions of of sex, mentions of drinking, angst, hurt no comfort

In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have met Izuku Midoriya at all.

That’s what you tell yourself, wrapped in the soft covers on your bed for the umpteenth night, crying your eyes out

You wish you never met him.

You wish he never looked at you the way he did, like you were something rare, something special. You wish he never kissed you like a promise he never intended to keep. You wish he never held you on those sleepless nights, whispering secrets he swore he never told anyone else.

You wish you never went to that stupid fucking party.

Almost a year ago now, your coworker, Ochako had invited you to a housewarming party for the new apartment she’d gotten with her girlfriend. A casual night, board games, chatter, charcuterie, and the most beautiful pair of green eyes you’d ever seen.

You felt captivated by him, he was beautiful, and so respectful in a way that had you swooning.

You wish you were casual about it. You should have looked away. You should have smiled politely and kept your distance. You should have let him come to you.

But you didn’t. You went to him. That was your first mistake.

You introduced yourself, and he said your name like he was tasting it, like he wanted to remember the way it felt on his tongue. And you let yourself believe—for just a moment—that maybe this was something more than just a fleeting connection at a friend’s party.

Izuku was magnetic, but not in the way you were used to. He wasn’t the loudest person in the room, didn’t demand attention with arrogance or charm. No, he drew you in with his quiet intensity, the way he listened like your words meant something, like you meant something.

And God, you fell so fast.

He asked for your number st the end of the night. You’d giggled about it with Toga and Ochako for hours after the party ended, replaying the moment over and over in your head. The way he had smiled—shy but certain—the way his fingers brushed against yours when he took your phone.

Maybe he’d text you. Maybe he wouldn’t.

But God, you really, really hoped that he would.

He texted you the next afternoon.

Hey, I had a great time talking to you last night. Hope you got home safe—though I wouldn’t mind an excuse to see you again soon.

It wasn’t too much, not overly confident or pushy. But it was enough to make your stomach flip, enough to have you rereading it a few times before finally typing out a response.

From there, it was easy. Conversations that stretched late into the night, playful teasing that made your cheeks warm, moments where he’d say something just suggestive enough to make your heart race—only to follow it up with something sweet that left you wondering if you were imagining it.

Texting turned into lunch, lunch turned into dinner, dinner turned into something more.

Late-night drives, parked somewhere far from the noise of the city, R&B humming through the speakers as you lay side by side beneath the stars.

You remember it vividly—wrapped in blankets, the cool night air nipping at your skin, but the warmth between you keeping the chill at bay. Lingering glances, soft touches, murmured compliments that made your breath hitch. The way his fingers traced idle patterns on your wrist, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

And then—the brush of his lips against yours.

It had been slow, tentative, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. And when he finally kissed you—fully, deeply—it felt like the beginning of something.

You told him things you’d never told anyone else. You trusted him.

God, you loved him.

And you knew—you just knew—that he loved you, too. He had to… right?

So you told yourself to be patient.

Because he had told you things too. About his childhood, about nights spent listening to his mother’s quiet sniffles when she thought he was asleep. About how much she had sacrificed, how hard she had worked. He spoke of her with nothing but admiration, and it made you beam, knowing how deeply he loved her.

But you also knew what he didn’t say outright.

He had never seen love done right. Not between parents. Not between partners.

You couldn’t blame him for that.

Maybe he was scared.

Maybe if you waited long enough, if you were soft enough, patient enough—he would see what was right in front of him.

Maybe he would finally choose you.

He never made you question if he wanted you—not at first. He was attentive, thoughtful in a way that made your chest ache. He remembered things you mentioned in passing, sent you pictures of things that reminded him of you. When you were together, he looked at you like you were important.

And maybe that’s why you ignored the signs.

The way he deflected whenever your friends teased about you being his girlfriend. The way he never posted you, never introduced you as anything more than a friend.

The way he kissed you like you were his, but never actually said you were.

And now, almost a year later, you were still just something to him. Never nothing, but never quite enough.

You should have walked away months ago.

But you didn’t. And that was your second mistake.

Still, you let it slide. Again and again.

Because when it was just the two of you, it was easy to believe.Easy to believe that the way he looked at you meant something.

Easy to believe that the soft way he said your name, the way his fingers lingered on your skin, the way he pulled you close when he thought no one was looking—meant something.

The thousands of pictures of you on his phone. The little heart next to your contact. The way he touched you—gentle, reverent—like you were something precious. The way he whispered in your ear, soft and low, moaning your name like a prayer, pressing kisses to your skin between murmured praises. It had to mean something.

Didn’t it?

And then one night, it all came crashing down. A party, a few drinks, a conversation you weren’t supposed to overhear.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he had laughed, voice light, casual, unbothered. “We’re just… y’know. It’s nothing serious.”

Nothing.

You had stood frozen in place, stomach twisting, head spinning. And that was the moment you finally understood.

He was never scared.. even if he was

He just never planned on choosing you.

All those nights, all those moments—had they only meant something to you?

You wanted to storm out, to scream, to demand an answer. Instead, you turned on your heel and slipped away before anyone could see the way your hands trembled.

You ignored his texts that night. Ignored the calls. Ignored the way your heart clenched every time his name lit up your phone.

But the worst part? You knew it wouldn’t last.

Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much you wanted to walk away—

You weren’t ready to let him go.

You kept telling yourself you would stop responding, that you wouldn’t let him back in. You deleted his texts, turned off your notifications, even scrolled past his name when it popped up. But every time, your finger hovered, your heart betraying you, like it always did.

And when you finally caved—when you answered his call a few days later, voice shaky, but determined to be calm—he acted like nothing had happened.

“Hey, you okay? I’ve been thinking about you. Sorry if I was distant the other night. Just been dealing with some stuff, you know?”

Dealing with some stuff?

You wanted to scream. You wanted to ask him how he could say that, how he could act like he hadn’t shattered something inside you with that one offhand comment. But you didn’t.

Instead, you let out a long, shaky breath and said, “Yeah, I’m fine.” And he believed you, of course he did.

You hated yourself for it, but you let him believe it.

Because when he looked at you with those wide, earnest eyes, when he pulled you close like you were everything he needed in that moment, it was impossible to remember why you should walk away.

You were so tired of trying to be strong.

It wasn’t fair. You had given him everything. Your trust, your heart, your time—and all he’d given you in return were moments of fleeting affection. But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop loving him, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

And maybe that was your biggest mistake of all.

A few more weeks passed, and you fell back into the same rhythm, the same cycle. You’d push away, only to let him pull you back in with a soft text or an unexpected visit. Each time, the same promises without words—those lingering glances, those half-smiles, those gentle touches that said you matter to me but never I want you.

It was always on his terms, always when it suited him. He’d reach out when he was bored, when he was lonely, when he needed someone to listen, someone to be there without asking questions. But when it was time to take things further, when it was time for him to actually decide, he pulled away.

It was late one evening when it hit you the hardest. You were sitting on the couch in his apartment, both of you talking about nothing in particular—just the usual casual chatter you’d gotten used to. Then, out of nowhere, he paused, his fingers grazing the back of your hand. “You know,” he said, a soft chuckle escaping him, “I really don’t know what I’d do without you around. You’re like… my safe place.”

His words should have made you feel warm, should have been the affirmation you’d been desperately searching for. But instead, it felt like a dagger to your chest.

A safe place.

Your heart sank. You wanted to ask him why—why you couldn’t be more than just that, why he didn’t want you the way you wanted him. But you didn’t. You never did.

Instead, you swallowed your pain, gave him a tight smile, and muttered, “Yeah, me too.”

That night, you left his place earlier than usual, the familiar weight of disappointment pressing against your chest. You wanted to tell yourself that you were strong enough to let him go, that you deserved more, but each time you thought about it, you felt the pull of him—his warmth, his laugh, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

But the truth was undeniable: He wasn’t ready for what you wanted. And you weren’t going to keep sacrificing yourself for a version of him that didn’t exist.

So you stayed away. You tried to.

falling back into the rhythm was easier than you’d care to admit, the way he whispered your name, the way his touch still felt like home despite everything. You kept convincing yourself that this time would be different—that he would change, that he would see you, really see you, the way you’d always wanted him to.

But the cracks were still there, even if you ignored them.

The empty promises were still there, buried underneath the soft kisses and late-night conversations. He would kiss you with the same urgency, whispering things in your ear that made your heart race, but when it came time for something more—something real, something lasting—he pulled away. You could feel it in the way he hesitated, the way he’d get distant when things felt too serious.

It wasn’t fair. You knew it. You were supposed to be stronger than this. But each time he came around, you let him back in.

You were lying in his bed, tangled in sheets, and even the quiet stillness between you felt heavy—like it was all just too much to ignore anymore. His fingers traced patterns on your skin, but his touch felt distant, almost absent. You could feel it, like a cold draft in the air, the way something unspoken was hanging between you two.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, though you could hear the edge of uncertainty in his voice. He was waiting for you to tell him everything was fine. You knew he was.

“No,” you said quietly. “I’m not okay.” “I think we should stop this. You keep doing this, Izuku. You keep pulling me in and then pushing me away, and I’m done pretending like it’s okay.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. You weren’t going to let him hide behind his words this time.

“11 months. 11 months of this… this back-and-forth, this whatever we’re doing,” you continued, your voice growing stronger, fueled by the hurt and the anger you had buried for so long. “You tell me you want me, you kiss me like I’m the only one, you act like I’m the most important thing in the world—and then you disappear. You tell people it’s not serious, like I don’t matter. Like I’m just temporary.”

His mouth opened and closes then he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he repeated, as though trying to convince both of you.

“11 months, Izuku,” you spat, voice trembling with both anger and hurt. “11 months of back-and-forth, of you acting like you wanted me. I trusted you. I gave you everything, and you’ve just kept me at arm’s length like I’m some kind of… option. Like I’m just here when it’s convenient for you.”

Izuku’s face fell, guilt flickering in his eyes, but you were too far gone now. Too far from the illusion of him ever being the person you needed him to be.

“Y/n I swear I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice tight with emotion, reaching out to you. His hand hovered near your arm, but you pulled away. “You have to know that. I care about you so much. I really do.”

“You care? You never gave me anything more than sweet words and empty promises. You kissed me like you loved me, like you needed me, but then when it came time for something real, you’d pull away. Every time.”

He grabbed your wrist, his grip soft but firm, desperate. “Please, don’t do this. I don’t want to lose you. I just… I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be. I don’t—”

“What the hell does that even mean? You don’t know how? I’ve been here, trying to be patient, trying to show you that I care. I’ve been fighting for us and for something real, while you’ve been pretending you don’t want it.” Your voice cracked, but you held back the tears. “I gave you everything, and you couldn’t even give me one thing in return.”

He flinched at your words, but you didn’t stop. The dam had broken, and you had no intention of holding back anymore.

Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, refusing to break down in front of him. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, voice raw. “I can’t keep being your safety net, the person you turn to when you feel like it. I deserve more than this. I deserve someone who doesn’t just talk about wanting me, but shows me.”

“Maybe I’ve been stupid. Maybe I’ve been trying to make something out of nothing because I thought you might change. But I’m done. I’m done letting you play with my feelings.”

You stood up, grabbing your clothes, your hands shaking as you tried to keep it together. “I’m done with this. I’m done with you.”

Izuku sat up, clearly struggling to find the words to fix it, but you couldn’t stay. Not anymore. You gave him one last look, shaking your head. “Goodbye, Izuku.”

And this time, you walked out, not looking back.

You wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

A/n- I just wanted to write for Izuku differently.. I like to think that boy knows nothing about love and its foolish tendencies! he does not have positive examples of romantic love! No I’m not projecting a personal experience! Shut up!

Tags— @poemeater @beebunsx @beabamboo @superlegend216 @mimzyu

[ki2rins]

⟢ SUGARBOT - pjs

bonus #1 - the dinner interrogation

warnings : aphrodisiacs mentioned, italics are jay's thoughts

written wc : 592 words

prev | masterlist | next

“so whos the special girl that caught your eye on sugarbot hmm?” jay’s eyes flickered up to look at jake in an instant. he has been waiting the whole day to spill his guts out about his special girl. that special someone has rocked his world instantly, bringing something sweet to his daily life other than just handling clients. 

“well to start off, shes called yn. twenty-two and a student at decelis college, so basically our junior?” 

heeseung sat his fork down, eyeing the man opposite him. “what sparked you about her then? havent seen you fancy a girl in years, seong.” 

what caught my eye about yn? 

shes pretty and cute, absolutely cute. well mannered and thoughtful. genuine and simple. not demanding or forceful. 

not a gold digger. thats for sure. 

“jay? hello?” sunghoon waved his hand as jay was spiraling into his own thoughts. 

“shes genuine and kind. its a sugardating platform but she has not once asked me for money, well other than the rent one. she didnt even ask but something just made me want to pamper her instantly. i even asked to fund her degree last night, but she didn-” 

jake nearly choked on his drink upon hearing jay’s words. before jay could even finish his sentence, he instantly cut him off. “wait! what did you just say?” heeseung and sunghoon looked at each other, both mouths agape and still processing the words that just came out of jay’s mouth. jay blinked and looked at his friends before speaking up. “whats wrong with funding someone’s degree? she seems to be struggling with rent and her studies too. i just want to take some weight off her shoulders so she can focus. its not like i cant afford it too. where else can i spend my money then?” 

“do you even know if shes like a legit human being and not some fake forty year old man being a girl?” 

“gosh! jay, are you out of your mind? you should be pumping that money into my salary instead!” 

“yn huh? is this her?” sunghoon said as he turned his phone screen to his friends, with yn’s X (or twitter) profile flashing brightly on it. 

jay grabbed sunghoon’s phone and instantly started to examine her profile. scrolling through her tweets and pictures, analyzing every detail with growing curiosity.

“woah, shes pretty. now i know why you are hooked on her.” heeseung said with a playful grin, glancing over at jay. jay glared at heeseung with jealousy. “cut it out, hee.” 

“you are so hooked, seong. her texts must have been laced with aphrodisiacs.” heeseung teased, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. jay shot him an annoyed look, his face turning slightly red. “youre being ridiculous.” he muttered, trying to brush it off, but the hint of a smile betrayed him. 

despite all the teasing, all three of them, especially jake, was glad that there was a special someone bringing some sweetness to jay’s life. it was rare to see him being so open, and him being so open with yn made all of them intrigued. though he’ll never admit it, they all noticed the subtle changes with jay’s behaviour ever since he got to know yn - which has only been two days. 

as they exchanged glances, it was clear they couldnt wait to see how this would play out. jay, the one who always kept his emotions in check, was slowly unraveling, and his friends were eager to see how far this new connection would go.

—————————————————

rin's yap: tbh this was more fitting for an actual chapter but i think its a lil too late to slot this in...but nonetheless, this is just a little something for the tech bros! taglist! : open! reply on this post and i'll add you to the taglist @kaykay11sworld @jvngw0nlvr @meowseong @enhaz1 @jakeswifez @nshmrarki @ice-dandan20 @ziiao @minawannabealone @enhamonsterghoul @d-dilemma @urmomdotcom5678 @starry-eyed-bimbo @r1kixss @jensyed @notab1tchwho @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @jooniesbears-blog @seongiewon @jayyvvhxss @younjo @siimplestar @suhwife @immprettywhenyoucry @machambrx @luvleyylina @maniluvzyou @ezekiel-bublz @lovingjongseong @in-somnias-world @strayy-kidz @xoaumin @wonnieluv @rairaiblog @dark-moon-light02 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @lelestarmy @trinxt @parkjjongswifey @liliansreality @letwiiparkjay @rodelalaland @melodiessvy @millis-diary @antisocialties @jayhoonvroom @nuki-riki @planetmarlowe @k9llgalner

© ki2rins 2025, please do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Goku + Vegeta when their spouse is away on a work trip headcanons

warnings: established relationship, husband/wife, fem!reader is taking Chi-Chi and Bulma's place as the Saiyan’s significant other in each separate, respective scenario.

If this does make you feel comfortable, please hit the back 'button' on your phone or laptop and do not leave any mean comments. This blog is a safe space for everyone to share their thoughts and enjoy fics.

Special thanks to @actuallysaiyan for being my beta-reader and cheerleader, this piece wouldn’t have been possible without her.

I would love to hear feedback on these types of scenarios for Dragonball/Dragonball Z and if I should continue them or what I should try writing next~!

divider by @cafekitsune

Son Goku

Goku would definitely be excited to have the house all to himself for an entire week because that meant he got to spend more time training to get stronger! Your sons would also be home while you’re gone on this business trip, so that’s a bonus right there!

As much as he loves to fight, he would like to make up for the time he had missed seeing Gohan grow up and get to know Goten more. Goku wouldn’t exactly be called the best father, but he had been putting in the effort after the Old Kai had given him another chance at life. He had an inkling just how hard you worked at your job to provide for the family from Gohan, but once you were out of the door? Totally different story.

Goku only knows how to cook simple meals, but he would wait until almost all the food you had meticulously prepared for your departure was almost gone. At least before he walked in the door one evening after a grueling session with Vegeta and he saw Gohan cooking in the kitchen with Goten clinging to his side. Not just what you would you normally eat, but the portions you always dished out that would fill him and the boys up.

Turns out that after he had died and his oldest son defeated Cell, you had developed a new routine in his absence: You would be up first thing in the morning, followed by Gohan, who had early morning classes. He would take care of making lunches while you did breakfast, then wake up Goten. Gohan would fly with Goten to West City to go to school, and you would leave for work. If you left work on time, then you’d come straight home and start cooking dinner. If you had to work a few extra hours, then Gohan would be in charge of the kitchen. Goten would help with setting the table, since he was still too young to do any cooking or handle sharp objects.

Once dinner was served and finished, you would clean up the kitchen while Gohan helped his little brother with homework or getting him ready for bed. Afterwards you would read Goten a bedtime story, then it was lights out for everyone until the next day arrived. Gohan would be an exception to the rule if he wanted to put in a few extra hours of studying.

This routine taught the boys not only how to do chores on their own, but also to be a little more independent. It was actually Piccolo’s idea; the Namekian had helped you with looking after them when they were younger on days when you would be stuck at the office longer than expected when Bulma couldn’t. She already had her hands full as the new president of Capsule Corp and being a mother herself.

You were more than happy to compensate for Piccolo’s time with jugs of high-quality water or a meal. It was no surprise that he became a father-figure to Goten as he had been to Gohan.

Hearing all of this from his oldest son stunned and made Goku’s chest swell with happiness and pride. He had sacrificed himself to save the world from Cell, but it wasn’t until after he arrived in the Other World that he realized he had left you all alone. It couldn’t have been easy, especially after Goten was born, but you all did it. He was very proud of you, and he wished you were here now so he could show you just how much he appreciated you.

But you weren’t here. You wouldn’t be back for another six days. Maybe that’s why it felt sort of lonely to go to sleep that night, noticing how cold your side of the bed was.

By the third or fourth day Goku will be whiny, constantly annoying Vegeta during their training sessions on how much he misses you and wants you to come soon so he could eat your cooking or worse, complains why you had to leave for this trip when you could have stayed home before the Saiyan Prince points out how many times he has left his family alone before promptly kicking Goku out of the gravity room.

On the fifth day, he was more than ready to fly wherever you were and bring you home. Unfortunately, the reason you had suddenly called the house right after dinner was because you wouldn’t be coming home like you had planned. Something unexpected happened with a major project at the office, and the higher-ups put you in charge of damage control. Right now you were looking for another day, maybe two days? You promised to keep him or Gohan updated, but Goku was not happy with the news.

He knows your job is important, but what about your family? Nope. You have already worked enough, someone else can handle the problem! You were coming home in two days, no ifs or buts.

You had better be prepared to get the shock of your life if you decide otherwise, because Goku will use Instant Transmission to be wherever you are and suffocate you with bone-crushing hugs and wet kisses. Don’t worry about the kids, he called Piccolo to watch them until the two of you got back.

Now, please give him some attention~.

Vegeta

Vegeta is an arrogant and stubborn-ass Saiyan, even if everyone else says he’s definitely calmed down a lot after getting married and having Trunks. This guy will never admit how much you have changed his life for the better.

Like Goku, he would be delighted to hear that you are leaving for a weeklong work trip; to him, this means he has more time to focus on getting stronger than being forced to sit with you after dinner to watch a show you liked and cuddle for a bit in bed before it’s lights out. It was also an excellent opportunity to get Trunks in the gravity room. He will not tolerate the idea of Kakarot’s younger son being more powerful than his heir apparent.

He would definitely rely on either the meals you prepared ahead of time because he cannot cook or takeout with the emergency black card you’ve left for them on the counter to use while you are gone. Vegeta is a hazard in the kitchen unless it’s warming up something on the stove and microwave.

Although he is technically a stay-at-home dad, Vegeta would quickly realize just how much you do around the house. Regardless of the extra hours you put in at the office, you had always made sure everything was spotless, there was plenty of food on the table, and spent time with him and Trunks. Vacation days? Used only to take four day family trips together or if you were sick.

On the third day, he wouldn’t spend it training from morning to late afternoon in the gravity room or spar with Kakarot. Instead, he scrubs the house from top to bottom once he’s dropped Trunks off at school; washing the dishes in the sink, throwing out expired foodstuff, and decimating the dust bunnies with the vacuum. Once the last load of laundry is done, he rushes to get his son.

He would make Trunks clean his own room. If it was dirty or didn’t meet his expectations of cleanliness? Extra thirty minutes of training or doing one hundred push-ups would serve as his son’s punishment. He did not raise a lazy son, thank you.

He would be more moody than usual in your absence and not realize until Yamcha or another Z-Fighter pointed it out at a surprise cookout at Capsule Corp held on the fourth day. Vegeta would scowl silently and not say anything, even if he took up Mrs. Brief’s offer to take home any leftovers.

As much as he wanted to use the new Instant Transmission technique and bring you home immediately, his pride prevents from doing so. He is the Prince of Saiyans. He is not a weakling to where he cannot handle you being gone for an entire week.

(He does not take it well when you call him on the day before you are supposed to be back that you need to stay for another day to work on a report for the higher-ups. Trunks had to remind him to breathe and loosen his grip on the phone or he’d break the damned thing)

Expect Vegeta to act like a grumpy and super clingy cat as soon as you walk in the door. He will literally follow you into the bathroom because he does not want to be left alone like that again. Do not even think about denying Vegeta the opportunity to take a bath or shower with him because he will have a hissy fit.

Trunks will have to wait to cuddle with his mother. A prince’s needs come first after all~. 

Taglist: @uninhabitedsworld-18 @nasty-redrum @zvmbieb0y @boonsmoon @mythoswarrior-23 @jadeprouductions @hoodiepandaninja16 @jurikuran86 @vegeta-bananabluish @fanboilingwriter

[inawickedlittletown]

Decided to rewatch S8 and I made it to 8x06.

Ugh. This episode.

This is the first time I'm rewatching it since it aired and I couldn't make myself rewatch it before, but I'm watching it now and gah the writing.

Under a cut because this got long...

I'm not even too bothered by the anniversary dinner. The woman approaching them is whatever in the long run...Buck is awkward but it's very Buck to be like that so that doesn't bother me. Tommy's reaction to it also not a problem. Buck acting like he doesn't know his boyfriend is gay? Writers WTF. This is the type of conversation that would be normal a few dates in not 6 months in. It's actually very reminiscent of stuff from their first date.

It's the way they didn't know how to bring up Abby and so gave us this convoluted way to bring it about and it's very clear to me on a rewatch that they're trying to make sure the casual heterosexual audience understands things. Like they want to reestablish that we know for sure that Tommy is gay and Buck is still attracted to women but also lets not use the word bisexual. And oh the shock value of it because take out the Abby of it all and the break up still works the same way...they did the Abby thing just for the hell of it.

It's bad writing.

The next thing that makes me cringe is Buck's scene with Maddie and Josh. In the past we've seen Maddie listen to Buck and maybe poke fun at him a little but always in a kind way and then she gives him advice.

Maddie in this scene is acting so strange (actually Maddie this whole episode is not acting quite herself). I know some people have an issue with Josh's speech about Glee but tbh I don't think it's that bad and I didn't the first time I watched it. I think he has good motives in saying it. My issue is with Maddie.

Her joke about Abby turning men gay, the way she explains to Josh that Buck slept with Tommy's fiance changing the facts entirely just to mess with Buck, the way that she just very clearly thinks Buck is being dramatic and ridiculous. She just doesn't take Buck seriously at all and when Buck calls her out on it she turns it around on him because as she says she doesn't think there's a problem. But it's not about if there is a problem with them having both dated Abby, it's how Buck feels about it that he needs advice on.

Josh for all that I do think he is helpful, he also does not know Tommy and shouldn't speak to what Tommy experienced. Buck voices his concerns that he thought he knew who Tommy was but now he's finding out that Tommy lied and hurt Abby and it's thrown him because he's having to meld those two versions of Tommy.

Buck doesn't think that Tommy will do the same to him and Tommy doesn't. He doesn't lie to Buck or string him along. He's actually very honest with him and that honesty contributes to the break up. Yet another way in which we see that Tommy has changed from who he used to be.

The thing is that Josh doesn't know Tommy and admits as much but he gives Buck some broad thing about glee and what the world was like before it and after but he's basing it on his own experiences and the queer experience is not a shared trauma...and he puts in Buck's mind that he can't judge Tommy and also that he should thank him. Buck clearly internalizes this. He also I think it suddenly forced to think about what he wants from a future with Tommy and he jumps at wanting to live with him.

Now onto the actual break up.

The whole scene is actually good. They're cute together and silly and flirty and even after the Abby thing is revealed to Tommy nothing has fallen apart. It's all kinda good and their conversation is actually great. When Buck says he admires him, Tommy seems to like that...or at least he takes it how Buck intends it.

This is where it falls apart. And considering I refused to watch this again until now I didn't really think about it like this until now.

Yes I think Tommy had his eyes opened a little bit with everything Buck said...but Tommy also could have ended the conversation at the point where Buck tells him he admires him and they could have gone to the movies and just continued their date night. Why? Because Tommy already sorta knows this and it's what's he's expected from it...he already knows this is Buck's first relationship with a man and that as such Buck must feel some gratitude for what Tommy has given him and he's clearly in his mind already decided that it will end eventually because as he tells Buck first is not last (Tommy, who hurt you?).

But then Buck asks Tommy to move in. And Tommy can't.

It's one thing for him to date the baby bi guy...for him to get feelings for him that maybe go deep but that are manageable. He can handle that...but moving in together? For Buck to dangle that to him and offer him a future when Tommy doesn't expect that Buck will be able to deliver it? That's where Tommy just can't because he knows it will hurt when they break up...but if they live together and form deeper attachments and routines and they become intrinsically a part of each other's lives in a home they share then that's not heartbreak he's prepared to face. It's heartbreak he knows he won't survive.

I actually don't see the break up as bad writing. Everything else surrounding it absolutely is, but that scene is heartbreaking because they both want the same exact thing but Buck couldn't reassure Tommy that he really did want for them to be together...he didn't even tell him he loved him...and Tommy needs more from Buck to be secure in thinking that in this instance first could also be the last.

I think we learn so much about Tommy in this episode and I wish we had been able to dive in deeper.

This episode still hurts. Tommy's face when he says "Buck" hurts. The way Buck is left behind hurts.

The writing is a mixed bag of bad with some alright moments. It also leaves so much open. I remember that night being optimistic because it is so clearly a storyline left open to be continued. Some interviews turned that optimism right around but without that there is no real reason for any of us to think that this is finished.

Do I think it was a bad idea to break them up? Absolutely. Do I think there are other forms of tension for them to explore? Yes. Do I think they will manage to give this story and Buck and Tommy a happier ending? I have no idea, but I hope so.

Buck himself calls his relationship with Tommy the most transformative since Abby. He misses Tommy so much he spends the next couple of episodes baking and wanting to reach out. We also know that Tommy wants to reach back out too. These are indications that it isn't over and I just hope that they stick to being a little cliche and following the romcom trope right through to the end where they get back together.

I guess that's where I am going into 8b. Hopeful, but not holding my breath and well aware that fanfic exists and so much of the scenarios we want for our blorbos will only ever be possible there. Oh, and I'll be shipping Buck with Tommy because that is definitely not changing no matter what the show does.

[maskedcrawford]

Code Red

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: That time of the month comes and GD helps you through it.

Warnings: Mentions of blood. Nothing too bad but its there. GD being an absolute sweetheart<3

A/N: Thank you darlin' for the request! This was super cute and I hope it's what you wanted, if not feel free to let me know!

Masterlist

Requests: OPEN

“This should be the last box,” you say as you and Jiyong are now standing in the living room of his penthouse looking at the boxes of your things. Moving in with him was really exciting and when you had said yes to the idea, he couldn’t of been more enthused.

“Great, how about I make us some dinner and we’ll unpack some after we eat?”  He puts arm around your waist pulling you close.

“Sounds perfect.” You give him a chaste kiss before he walks off to the kitchen. You get a large comfy blanket out and snuggle up on the couch with it. You doze off for a short while and before you know Jiyong is gently shaking you, telling you to wake up.

“Hmm?” you focus your eyes on your boyfriend.

“Dinner’s ready, jagi,” he smiles. You nod your head, still a little fuzzy from sleep. He prepared your favorite dishes and brings out a bottle of champagne.

“To new roommates,” he winks as he fills up the glasses. You giggle and clink the glasses together.

“I love you,” he blurts and you feel a slight blush rush your cheeks.

“I love you, more,” you say before you both start to devour the meal on your plates. Turns out moving in can work up quite the appetite. After dinner you two begin to unpack your boxes. Jiyong takes some of your things to the new shared bedroom and as you grab a box off the floor you notice something red on the couch where you were sitting and your face goes pale.

“Oh no, no no no,” you drop the box as you whisper to yourself. You dash to the bathroom and just as you suspected, your monthly visitor had arrived. You sigh dramatically and search around the bathroom for pads or tampons. He didn’t have a single one. Your stomach twisted in knots. The back of your sweatpants is now stained with the same blood that was on the couch. You groan.

“Y/n?” you freeze and look at the door.

“Ye-yeah?” you call out trying to sound casual.

“Everything ok? You’ve been in there for a minute,” his voice is dripping with concern.

“I’m, uh, I’m,” you sigh.

“I need a tampon.” You say slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, ok. I can run out and get some,”

“No I have some in my bag. And Ji?” you call out.

“Yeah?”

“Can you grab me another pair of sweatpants?” your voice is sheepish and he tilts his head at the door.

“Sure, give me a second,” he makes his way to the kitchen to grab your bag and get your product. As he checks the boxes to find your pants he notices the red stain on the couch. He quietly grabs some cleaner and scrubs the area cleaning effectively taking out the blood. He gets your pants and brings you what you need.

“Can I come in,” he asks as he knocks on the door.

“Yeah,” you were standing there waiting for him. You take a few minutes to get yourself cleaned up and when you come out he’s gone. You check your phone for a text.

Be back soon babe.

You furrow your brows but quickly shrug as you grab a few things from your toiletries box and put them in the bathroom. As you walk out you remember the spot on the couch and grab some cleaning supplies only to find it was gone. You face flushes a little and you can’t help but smile to yourself. You really do have the best boyfriend. Just then you hear the door open and shut behind him. You take the cleaning products to the kitchen and see Jiyong with a couple of bags.

“What’s all that?” He gives you a grin and pulls out your favorite candy, a new stuffed animal, some medication, and a heating pad.

“I thought these might help.” He says shyly and you smile down at the floor for a moment.

“Come on, let’s go lay in bed,” he grabs the stuff he bought and takes you to your new room.

“Wait, hold on,” he says dramatically earning a confused look from you.

“We must do this right,” he gives you a cheeky grin as he sets the bag on the table in his room, you stand right outside the door way.

“What do you mean?” He comes by your side and puts his arms under your back and the backs of your legs, picking you up bridal style.

“Ji,” you giggle. He carries you over the threshold and sets you on the bed gently, giving you soft sweet kiss.

“I’m pretty sure that’s only for when you’re married.” You smirk.

“Then we’ll call that practice,” he winks and you blush as you get underneath the covers. He grabs the heating pad and candy and lays beside you.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” you mumble as he turns on your favorite movie, Rapunzel. He scoots his body next yours, snuggling up into. You stroke his hair.

“Anything for my lady,” he says as he places a delicate kiss on your stomach before laying the heating pad over you stomach.  

If you enjoyed and would like to support me, buy me a coffee

[deadchannelradio]

we had a lot of fun in the background while we were making this in ways that didn't make it into the fic but i want to share the bits with you all anyways.

Mr stanley is not aware and perhaps never becomes aware of the fact that he is feeling Crazed Homosexual Lust towards dickie g. he's not even fully aware of the fact that he's acting weird. He is explaining it to himself that this feeling is Wow! I Wish This Is Who I Had Grown Up To Be! which is a hilarious emotion to be having as a 40 year old man looking at a 25 year old, and also magnifies tenfold when dick pulls up at the end with a motorcycle helmet. Mr Stanley has always wanted a motorcycle. Maybe if rich and him became friends (he is not looking too closely at how he would become friends with a man nearly 20 years his junior) rich would let him ride it. To see if he likes it. Before he invests. In one. And maybe the first time rich could ride bitch on the bike. to make sure that geoff is safe. Because he doesn’t really know how to drive one. And then they could be bike buddies. and they could go riding together. on their motorcycles. And geoff would look cooler because of how cool his cool friend looks when they are riding their motorcycles together. That would be So Fun. So Fun. So much Fun. ill readmore this actually im looking into the future and it is so long.

But yeah i do think when they first meet geoffery has a very loud and confusing thought that he needs to smell rich from very very close. To understand what combination of smells he is wearing. Mr stanley uses AXE PHOENIX 48H ANTI SWEAT HIGH DEFINITION SCENT ANTIPERSPIRANT NEW ANTI SWEAT FORMULA!! And has since he was in high school and he has never used or even thought about an aftershave before. But now he has lots of thoughts about aftershave. does aftershave make you smell like this. rich smells like a cold wet tree. a sexy cold wet tree. Can geoffery stanley smell like a cold wet tree? He needs to smell rich’s neck right now to tell if thats aftershave or cologne. Geoffery needs to get his daughters into gymnastics right now immediately posthaste. Geoffery has never in his life thought a man in a silk shirt looked cool, Also he could see dicks nipples through his shirt and he genuinely felt like sick to his stomach for a moment and it was very confusing. Does rich wear a bra. He should wear a bra. This is not a thought geoffery stanley has ever had before. Geoffery needs to start working out IMMEDIATELY so that Rich's shoulders can be his shoulders. in his mind its this weird mix of I Feel Threatened and nigh hero worship levels of This Guy Is Cool and outside of his mind to the outside observer it's God Damn this dude needs to download grindr.

Also he is so nice to damian who is the WEIRDEST kid geoffery has ever met (and he has met a lot of weird kids) and it’s making geoffery want to be really nice to damian also and have rich meet his daughters at the same time. Also his wife too he should just invite rich to dinner sometime. also he cant meet his wife because mrs stanley would Like Rich. She would like rich yes but what if she also Likes Rich. In his mind there is nothing weird about inviting this 25 year old who he has nothing in common with and whom he just met to his house to meet his wife and kids. it's perfectly normal. he can't help himself when he goes home though he Has to talk about rich to his wife. mrs geoffery stanley is like how was parent teacher conferences and almost before the sentence is out of her mouth hes like JESSIE. I MET THIS REALLY COOL GUY. HES REALLY NICE HE WORKS WITH KIDS TOO HES THAT WEIRD KIDS DAD. HES A COOL GUY. HE WORKS WITH KIDS . HES COOL. He can’t actually explain what about him was so cool (other than that he was really regular about his weird kid unlike all the other parents who are weird about their weird kids) now that he is no longer in the room with rich you just have to see him to understand. Things that make rich cool that geoffery manages to say to his wife:

he was wearing a real fun shirt

do you think I would look good in blue “what kind of blue” (gestures) blue.

fun hair

normal about child

teaches children how to gymnastics

really nice guy just super nice just so nice just the nicest guy. really nice.

Individualized Education Plan

G, gen, humor, 6.7k, 1/1

Damian pulls out his phone and dials Richard’s number- his chauffeur has been unfortunately painstakingly instructed to answer no calls whatsoever from Damian, and Alfred has begun to pretend that phones do not exist during school hours. Unsurprisingly, as it is eight in the morning, it goes to voicemail. Damian waits impatiently for the beep. “Richard,” he says, in tones of the deeply suffering, “this place is a hostile environment. I must be collected post-haste, as after this latest indignity I am dropping out. Come at once, or I may die here.” The dynamic duo attend a parent-teacher conference. No one has a good day.

read more on ao3

by @cowboysorceror and i! happy new year!

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 034 !

the warm scent of something savory filled your apartment, mingling with the soft hum of the stovetop. you leaned against the counter, watching as sae moved effortlessly in your kitchen, sleeves rolled up, focused on whatever he was making.

"a special meal, just for the special lady," he had said when you asked what he was doing. you hadn't pressed further, just enjoying the rare sight of him doing something so domestic.

"i didn't know you could cook," you mused, propping your chin on your hand.

sae glanced at you, unimpressed. "i'm not useless."

you laughed. "yeah? never said you were, though."

he didn't respond, just plated the dish. it was something simple, but it smelled incredible. setting it in front of you, he nudged the chopsticks toward you.

"eat."

you picked up the chopsticks, taking a bite, without much expectation, but the moment the flavors hit your tongue, your brows lifted in surprise. "this is actually good."

"obviously," he scoffed, but there was the tiniest twitch at the corner of his lips. was he pleased?

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest had nothing to do with the food. there was something oddly endearing about seeing him like this. relaxed, in your space, cooking for you.

"alright, chef itoshi," you teased, taking another bite. "you've officially impressed me."

his eyes flickered to you, acting uninterested, but you caught the way his fingers drummed idly against the counter, like he was holding back a reaction. “took you long enough,” he muttered.

you smiled. “so, what’s the occasion? feeling generous today?”

he tilted his head. “you snuck out of the lv fashion show just to hang out with me. i figured i should at least feed you.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “in my own apartment? wasn't this your idea? is this your way of saying thank you?”

“sure,” he said, though his tone was too casual, like he didn’t want to confirm or deny it outright. typical sae.

you shook your head, amused, and nudged the plate toward him. “well, since you cooked, you should eat too.”

he raised an eyebrow, hesitating for just a moment before finally sitting down next to you. without a word, he picked up his own chopsticks and took a bite, chewing slowly.

but you caught it, that slight nod of approval, the way he barely hummed under his breath.

you smiled. “good?”

he shot you a flat look. “obviously.”

the two of you ate in a quiet rhythm, the occasional clink of chopsticks against plates the only sound breaking the stillness of your apartment.

it was… nice. surprisingly so.

you hadn’t expected to feel this comfortable with him, but something about tonight felt different.

and then, without realizing it, you found yourself just watching him.

the way his lashes cast faint shadows against his skin, the way he moved with that same effortless precision he had on the field. even something as simple as eating. he made it look composed. but here, in the glow of your kitchen, with the faint scent of food lingering in the air, he seemed more human. less of the unreachable prodigy the world saw him as, and more of just sae.

and that thought lingered a little too long.

because if you let yourself think about it, really think about it, you’d have to admit that maybe, just maybe, you had a crush on him.

after dinner, the two of you ended up on the couch, the weight of the night settling into something easy, something almost peaceful. the only sounds were the faint hum of the city outside and the quiet rhythm of your breathing. sae sat beside you, legs stretched out, his arm lazily draped along the back of the couch. his presence was familiar, but for some reason, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.

you tried to ignore it.

you tried to focus on the random movie playing on your tv, even though neither of you were really watching.

you tried to pretend that your heart didn’t pick up its pace every time he shifted just the slightest bit closer.

“you’re quiet,” he noted, breaking the silence.

you blinked, turning your head to look at him. “huh?”

“you’ve been staring at the screen for the past twenty minutes, but i don’t think you’ve actually processed a single thing.”

you scoffed. “that’s rich, coming from you.”

he exhaled a small laugh, barely there, but you caught it. when you glanced at him again, you noticed the way his eyes lingered on you.

something inside you tensed.

“do you ever overthink things?” you found yourself asking.

sae raised an eyebrow. “no.”

you sighed. “figures.”

a smirk tugged at his lips, but before you could roll your eyes at him, he shifted suddenly, his hand moving too fast and too smooth and flicked your forehead.

you jerked back, startled. “ow, what the hell?”

“you’re thinking too much,” he said simply, as if that justified the unprovoked attack.

“you-” you were about to throw a pillow at him, but then he laughed again, barely a breath of amusement, and suddenly, all your frustration disappeared.

because hell, that laugh did something to you.

maybe it was the exhaustion. or the fact that the walls you had carefully built between you and him had slowly been wearing down all night. or maybe it was because, for once, it didn’t feel like you had to overanalyze everything. it was just the two of you, here, now. and that realization made something snap inside you.

so when you turned to him fully, you didn’t think twice before shoving at his shoulder, only for him to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him with little effort.

you barely had time to react before his lips were on yours.

your breath hitched as he kissed you, his fingers tightening around your wrist for half a second before releasing it, letting you make the choice to stay, to kiss him back. and God, you did. you leaned in, your hands finding his shirt, gripping it like you needed to hold onto something.

chapter 033 > here > chapter 035

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: i, in fact, did not cook smth tmrw like i said a few days ago so here's an apology kiss i guess ...

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @ffleurist @yuukiririix @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @pookiei-bookie @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa @spookysoowpprince @mivqko @chuuyalvover @viviinpt @h1sllvr @luvvmae @renchai @yourlocaleffy @x3nafix @saeglazer

[leyavo]

| Retribution |

Jinx spent the past three months gathering intel on their last botched mission. Just don’t ask her how she got it.

[Jinx (technician!reader)Masterlist]

Jinx was an enigma to Captain Price.

No paperwork, no name and no history.

Laswell had handed him a blank sheet of paper with her callsign, nothing else. She’d vouched for the technician, promising John she’d be an asset to the 141. Jinx flitted between two different bases, never speaking of family…if she had any.

John’s back not even five minutes and he’s staring at the wad of paper falling to his desk.

“This is unauthorised information, Jinx. I can’t read this,” John said, leafing through the stack of papers before him, the tip of his pen nudging them apart.

His brows arched at the lack of blacked out lines covering classified intel. He doesn’t even let his fingers brush against the one labeled MI5. Most of what he’s reading shouldn’t be available to the technician, let alone be printed out on site.

He reads it though, finger scratching his moustache as Jinx stands opposite his desk. Hands tucked behind her back and her gaze on a spot just over his shoulder, she never did look anyone in the eye for too long. Something her last superior noted in her file.

She gave Riley a run for his money, when it came to the silent and staring presence. Always lurking, listening like another damned ghost.

“Laswell said I should get creative, Captain.” Jinx shifted her weight, leaning more to the right and head lowering like a child being scolded.

Price leant back in his chair, “creative this is downright diabolical. How did you even get another specialist unit’s information? There’s even a restaurant receipt from a few months ago.” He glanced up at her, reading glasses halfway way down his nose. If she could find all this, he didn't want to think who else could.

“The internet, sir.”

“Well I know that,” John grumbled to himself, trying not to think of the legalities of what lay on his desk.

“Laswell didn’t give you clearance then?” Lieutenant Riley, pushed off the wall and stood beside the Captain. His arms folded over his chest as he raised a brow at Jinx. He’s not in his usual full mask, messy blond hair sticking out from under his hoody and a mask covering his mouth and nose. His duffle bag slung to the side, he'd too been caught in the corridor and dragged into the captain's office.

The 141 had been off for a few months after their last unsuccessful mission, Johnny still healing, but he was also on base. And as soon as Jinx passed the captain in the corridor, she requested a meeting with Price and Riley.

Unlike the rest of her team, Jinx stayed on base and threw herself into research and digging up intel. She even took a few ops for Laswell, there was nothing for her outside of the military.

Price huffed, shuffling through the papers and giving Jinx a once over. "When's the last time you slept, Jinx?"

The deep rims under her eyes telling enough, fly away hairs sprouting from her usual slicked back hair. Long sleeved t-shirt creased, a coffee stain near the tattered hem. She hadn’t even bothered tucking it in to her trousers. The laces of her boots looked like she’d strung them together in the dark.

"They shot Soap." She blinked and John nearly fell off his chair as her narrowed gaze met his. It was brief, her eyes flitting back to the safe spot to the side of his head at the wall.

Jinx and Soap were the last two the Captain would put together, the loud sergeant managed to break through her cold and reserved exterior. And his injury seemed to bother Jinx more than John thought it would. She'd had that silent brooding stare, something John maybe shouldn't have overlooked a few months ago.

"We can't prove that," Price said, sliding his glassed off and tossing them on the desk. He rubbed his tired eyes and released a sigh.

"The restaurant proves that, Captain."

John picked his glasses back up, pushing them over his nose. “What a team meeting over dinner…” he tossed the receipt to the side and glanced to Simon, who leant over his shoulder to look at it.

“Well they said they weren’t in Moldova, this restaurant is on the same border where it all went to shit. Might want to check the total of that bill, Captain,” Jinx said, his rank leaving her lips like she was spitting out venom.

“She’s right,” Simon interrupted, squinting at the receipt in case he read it wrong. “Why would they pay that much for a meal?”

An obscene amount of money, more than a captain earns that’s for sure. Simon chuckled as he sifted through some of the technician’s research.

“Jinx you know we can’t use any of this, for one you’ve got all their bloody bank accounts for the past six months printed out here.” John held his hand up to stop her before she could reply. “And Laswell needs evidence that wasn’t obtained illegally before we can even do anything.” He tapped his pen on the desk, punctuating each point he’s trying to prove to her.

“Laswell doesn’t have to know. No different to 2011 Moldova Captain?” Jinx tilted her head, smile tugging the corner of her lips as she pointed to Simon. “No different to 2016, November sixth, location unknown lieutenant?”

Of course she’d snooped in their files, no doubt all of theirs before she joined. John hated that he didn’t have anything to push her back on.

“The list goes on Captain.”

A chair scraped along the floor, Simon’s hand on Jinx’s shoulder as he shoved her into it. He sat on the edge of the desk in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. “Who are you Jinx?” He asked, voice low and controlled.

“Who ever you want me to be, lieutenant.”

This has been sitting in my drafts since January 30th 🤭 hope you enjoyed, please note I am dyslexic so there might be errors/mistakes, I do edit my work a few times, but I do miss stuff - Leya