#that doesn’t excuse what he’s done AT ALL but it does set up the idea that he’s not doing it fully on purpose

[prouvaireafterdark]

how do you think the show will or should deal with the domestic abuse?? i am struggling to see how anything TVL (the book) explains lestat doing THAT or how anything he does in the books in the future gives him a redemption for it. especially seeing how nicki was so damaged and committed suicide, it makes it worse for me that lestat would do something that completely destroys louis's mental health and drives him to the same end had it not been for claudia.

Idk man. For the 1x05 stuff specifically my guess is that, aside from going deep on his tragic backstory/fear of abandonment, they’re going to go further into how Lestat got these powers and how incredibly difficult it actually is for him to control them day to day, so what he does to Louis will be explained as Lestat, in a heightened state of emotion due to being faced with his greatest fear, genuinely losing control of a power he doesn’t fully understand or know how to stop and hurting Louis in a way he never would have imagined doing

Is that satisfying? Does that excuse his behavior and make us want to forgive him? No, not really.

But is it better than the alternative of “Lestat was fully in control of himself and his actions and willfully beat Louis to a pulp just to hurt him or prove a point”? 🤷🏼‍♀️

[opultea]

Babe, Look at Me!

Things the Genshin men do to try and impress you. ft. Alhaitham, Lyney, Morax (Zhongli), Itto

Fluff - Romantic - SFW - GN Reader (No Pronouns) - Headcanons

Word Count: 0.8k

Alhaitham

So here’s the thing

Alhaitham ain’t a man to show off

He literally doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him

Expect for a special someone (¬‿¬)

(That’s you boo)

Alhaitham still doesn’t show off in the classic way. Definitely doesn’t go out of his way to make you view him doing certain things

But if the opportunity presents itself naturally… then why not take it?

I’m talking lifting up the hem off his shirt to wipe sweat off his brow when he’s working out with/near you, changing shirts just a little bit slower than he usually would if you’re around, putting a bit more effort in winning a debate he’s in with another scholar when you’re with him, flexing his bicep when you hold his arm

It’s the little things

But boy do they work

Sports a smug little smile when he sees you affected by him

If you get flustered and smack his chest to tell him to stop, he'll just give you a slight smile and tell you he has no idea what you're talking about

Lyney

As if this guy won't spend ages perfecting that trick where he pulls a bouquet from nowhere so he can gradually pull out bigger and bigger bouquets to give you

He already practices his tricks almost constantly, dead set on perfecting every little thing

But with you on his mind?

That spark to do his best grows into a fervent flame like no other

Lynette doesn't complain about his childish wish to impress you as long as it's improving his performance (and making him happier), but she definitely rolls her eyes at him when she overhears him practising his line delivery for when he gifts you the rainbow roses he bought earlier

He personally invites you to every one of his shows, and though he understands if you can't make it every time, he smiles so wide when you say yes that you're tempted to push aside all your other commitments anyway

After the show, he'll pull you aside and ask what you thought, all while trying to appear as if he isn't nervously awaiting your approval

Morax

I’ve specified Morax here because this is based in the universe of my Zhongli x Cloud God Reader head cannon (from my Where’s My Kiss? drabbles)

Look, he’s a young, proud, powerful god with his eye on the lovely cloud god that he sees roaming above sometimes, and he can’t help but try to do certain things hoping you’ll be watching from your domain

Morax in his dragon form taking more causal flights around Liyue than he used to, certainly not because he knows you can see his magnificent true form from your palace in the heavens when he flies past

Although he doesn’t often involve himself in battle unless necessary, he’s found himself allowing the yaksha to spar with him with the excuse that he believes it will test their limits (and definitely not because he wants you to see how powerful he is)

You agreed to help him train the yaksha, and as you stand at the side of the small battleground Morax locks eyes with you as he does his finishing move in a 'cool guys don't look at explosions' way

Definitely smirks a little when he sees how it affects you

Itto

Actually says the phrase 'Babe, look at me!' all the time

Literally will do anything and then turn to you to receive his head pat and praise

Loves to flex (both literally and figuratively)

Takes extra special care of his horns and hair the night before he's going to see you just to fish for extra compliments

If you don't immediately acknowledge the extra care he took and the extra shine on his horns, he'll clear his throat and place his hand on his head to make you look up at his horns

If you still don't compliment him or act impressed (which you've definitely done just to tease him) he'll get sooo pouty, poor baby :((

But of course, you always act so impressed in the end, often turning it up to eleven jokingly

Itto will take any and all compliments seriously though, no matter how dramatic you're acting with them

"Thanks babe, knew you'd notice."

He acts cool by sweeping back his flowing mane as if he wasn't hunched over pouting two seconds ago

"My horn's are just too cool sometimes, you know? Feels like I gotta reign in my own awesomeness sometimes, otherwise everyone will be all up on me and you'll get lost in the crowd of admirers! And we can't have that, huh? You're the numero uno cheerleader for this numero uno leader!"

[thetarttfuldickhead]

There was this post a little while back suggesting that Beard gets kicked out by Jane and moves in with Higgins and that’s very narratively satisfying and right, given that Leslie’s the one person daring to tell Beard that his relationship with Jane isn’t, you know, great. However, I’m a Roy & Jamie girl at heart, so I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Beard instead moved in with his fellow fan of few words, ie one Roy Kent.

Say, for instance, that Roy and Jamie are fucking/dating/what have you and Jamie gets it into his pretty, silly head that they can somehow hide the fact from Beard. Roy tells him stop being an idiot, of course he’s going to know if he’s staying here, only way to keep it from him if you keep away until he finds another place to live, and fuck no, I’m not moving in with you, how the fuck would I explain that, and anyway your fucking headboard would give me a migraine.

Well, Jamie says mulishly, I’m not staying away.

Fine, Roy says, secretly a little relieved. So he’ll know. Big fucking deal.

And in this version of events Roy really is cool with it, because it has to come out sooner or later and he’s not ashamed and it’s not like Beard’s gonna say anything (Roy may or may not be mistaken in this assumption), and anyway, he’s Roy Kent, he does whatever the hell he wants, okay. Only Jamie doesn’t accept that, because he has this strong and somewhat misguided notion that he needs to defend Roy’s honour by not letting anyone suspect he’s fucking his player. So Jamie starts making up increasingly absurd excuses as to why he should show up at Roy’s place like having some work done at my house and Roy was concerned I’d be breathing in poisonous fumes, yeah, so he said I had to come over here and um, Coach, I think I strained my calf today, could you maybe take a look here in the bedroom ‘cause my back hurts too and I need to lay down and yeah, Beard’s eyebrows are not as psychotic as Roy’s but they certainly climb and climb and climb. Later in the evening he just glances at Roy, so, you and Jamie, huh? And Roy shrugs, unconcerned, yeah, and pours himself another cup of tea. He doesn’t tell Jamie that they’ve been made, though; it’s still kind of fun watching the muppet make a fool of himself. Besides, the idea of their encounters being particularly illicit seems to really get Jamie going, so.

Alternatively, Jamie agrees to stay away, and then proceeds to do everything in his power to set Beard up with someone else so that Beard can be happy and move in with his new friend and Jamie can go back to shagging his grumpy old boyfriend all over the house. The attempts are predictably absurd, but also oddly sweet (‘cause Jamie wants the relationship to last, right, so that Beard doesn’t come knocking on Roy’s door again anytime soon, so obviously he needs to find someone properly nice, but it’s hard for him to figure what nice means to someone as odd as Beard).

(These two scenarios work if Keeley’s part of the mix, too, btw. She can either join in Jamie’s antics because she’s a weird girl at heart, or she can be the voice of reason if a voice of reason is what gets you going.)

Or say that Roy and Jamie really are just friends (for the moment, at least) and it’s Roy that gets a little nervous about Beard realizing just how close they are. Like, he’s reluctantly cool with everyone knowing that Jaime is his favourite player (though of course he’d deny it if someone dared say it to his face) or them knowing that Roy spends stupid amounts of time torturing training Jamie, but he’s not quite comfortable having people know that they also just… hang out. That Roy cooks Jamie dinner. Leaves Phoebe with him when Roy’s busy with a coaching crisis. That they watch stupid shit on the telly together, and that Roy doesn’t complain (much) when Jamie curls up to him like a cat. That stuff’s private, all right? So he stops having Jamie over, starts brushing him off, and at first Jamie’s undeterred because if he let Roy’s grumpiness get to him he’d never not be gotten to, but Roy persists and Jamie starts to wilt, hurt and confused. In the end, Beard – wise, all-seeing Beard – fixes Roy with one long stare and notes that there’s nothing wrong with having a friend, Coach. Plenty wrong with being shit to the ones you’ve got, though, and Roy doesn’t even yell fuck he just stands there, stony like, until he jerks a short nod and stalks off to make things up to Jamie.

Anyway, the idea of Beard bearing witness to Roy and/or Jamie being particularly ridiculous about each other is very funny, to me.

(I tried to hunt down that original post because even though I didn’t want to add to it and derail OP’s poignant take with my Roy & Jamie obsession, I still want to credit them for the original idea. Couldn’t find it, however, but please give me a shout if you have a link. Aha! @coachbeards is the original galaxy brain!)

[katzuk1s]

_______________________________________________

18+ mdni

——————————————————————————

thinking about giving inexperienced virgin! Bakugou head for the first time on his birthday

TW: oral (male receiving), swearing ofc, praise kink, fem!reader

3.0k words

——————————————————————————

You and Katsuki had been in a relationship for a time now, about 2 months since his 'confession' (he shoved some flowers in your face and warned you to be his valentine or else) and yet you two had scarcely done anything together. Don't get me wrong, you spend every waking and sleeping minute with him; movie evenings, sleepovers, dates at anything challenge-based so he can show you how strong he is; but...you haven't done anything with him. Sexual, that is. Sure, you two have kissed, on the occasion his lips would move down to your neck, licking and marking a few small areas on your neck just to show you’re his in front of the class—but he's never gone further than that. You both haven’t, if we are being honest. You’ve both been too nervous, I guess? Or it's just never really been a priority on katsukis list—or that's what you thought.

You are both oblivious to what the other is thinking. Katsuki doesn’t notice how much you stare at him when he gets out of the shower, his towel hanging around his waist as your eyes drift down; and even if he does, he convinces himself that he’s getting ahead of himself—just seeing things. You don’t notice the constant glances katsuki sneaks at you when you are wearing his shirt, which is 10x bigger than you, hanging loosely down to your thighs which you wear as pajamas along with some shorts or just panties. He has to excuse himself to the bathroom to have his 3rd shower of the day after he looks down to see the bulge in his pants—which 9/10 times leads to him covering his mouth with one hand as the other strokes himself as the water drips down his bare body, trying his hardest to keep the noise down so you don't suspect anything.

As katsukis birthday comes along, you do everything you can possibly do to make it the best birthday hes ever had. It’s his first birthday with you as his girlfriend, so you feel its your responsibility to treat him—not that you mind. You get him the perfect gifts—a black tshirt with his favorite band on it, some of his favorite cologne that hes nearly out of, a limited edition all might figure which you had to hide from izuku up into the day, you know that fucker would try to steal it if you left it out, and finally a basket of his favorite foods, and of course 3 bottles of sirachi sauce.

You prepare a complete bacon and egg breakfast for him and serve it to him in his room when you go out into the dorm kitchen to prepare it. He'd rather stay in his dorm than deal with the rest of the class this early in the morning.

For lunch, you get Aizawa to excuse you two so you can go to your favourite restaurant, where you treat Katsuki to whatever he wants on the menu despite his protests, saying he can pay for it—you don't let him, of course.

And finally, the surprise party. Katsuki hates parties, it’s pretty obvious from how many times he’s stomped out at the sight of one balloon; but the whole class wanted to celebrate, so you just went along with it—how much harm could it do? You could always have a quiet night after.

“You think he knows?” Denki whispered in the dark. You were all hidden down in your specified spots as you waited for katsukis return into the dorm lounge where everyone had set up streamers, balloons along with his favourite foods and a special cake made by sato.

“Nah, I’ve been distracting him all day, he will have no idea” you reply.

“Perfect” denki whispers back, a shit eating grin on his face as he holds a party popper in his hand, which you can only guess he will pop right in katsukis face. Rest in peace denki.

You are cut off as the door opens.

“The fuck? Why’re all the goddamn lights off huh?” You hear a raspy voice mumble from down the stairs. You have to stop yourself from chuckling as you cover your mouth to not make a sound.

“Got a power outage or something? Maybe nezu forgot to pay the fuckin’ power bills again” the same voice mumbles as you hear footsteps heading up the stairs, slowly until you hear a loud crashing and cursing.

“GOD DAMMIT, DUNCE FACE DO YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS? YOU WANNA WATCH ME STRUGGLE YOU BASTARD?!” Katsuki yells as he starts to trample up the stairs faster, until he gets to the top to see some faint balloons in the darkness.

“The fu-“

“SURPRISE!!” The whole class yells as momo turns the lights on, revealing everyone and the decorations. Katsukis eyes widen and he grumbles, turning around straight away.

“Hell no, i ain’t doing this shit-“

“Wait!! Could you please stay for a few minutes, it took us a long time to set this up? Please? I promise we can have a nice night together afterwards" you glance up at katsuki with your most dolly eyes—katsuki grumbles again and looks down, shuffling his feet across to the party, unable to resist your sweet tone and precious gaze.

“Fine. But i ain’t staying f’ long, got it?"

“Kacchan! "How are you doing, my bestest bro in the entire world?" Denki says as he drapes an arm around Katsuki, which is quickly swatted away.

"The fuck does it mean to you?" He mumbles as he pushes away and makes his way to the food.

As the night goes on, katsuki begins to moan and groan more to you, saying he can't bear being around these fuckers any longer and that he simply wants to sleep. You sympathise with him, but you also want to enjoy the time you have with the entire class, which happens on a very rare occasion without a big fight breaking out or a villain attacking. After the cake has been served and eaten, you all find yourselves sitting or lounging on the couch, the floor, or even the tables, joking with one another. You sit on the couch next to katsuki, your head on his lap, looking up into his eyes and casually responding to whatever conversation is going on.

“We should totally play truth or dare!” Mina suggests, her tone deathly sweet.

“Hell yeah! Let’s get this party started!” Sero and the other classmates agreed, katsukis eyes rolling at the suggestions.

“Don’t have time for your shitty games”

“Come on ‘suki! It will be fun! It’s late start tomorrow, we have time” you say, reaching up to gently caress his cheek before standing up and heading over to where everyone is sitting in a circle on the floor, patting the spot next to you for katsuki to sit.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…” he mumbles under his breath before reluctantly sitting down next to you.

“You know, i'm still convinced you’ve put him under some sort of spell, I’ve never seen him so agreeable” izuku jokes, smiling widely as per usual.

“I'VE ALWAYS BEEN AGREEABLE YOU DAMN DEK- IZUKU” katsuki barks at izuku before huffing and leaning back.

“Yeah yeah, let’s get on with it, things are about to get in-ter-est-ing!” denki accentuates, smirking at katsuki. Has he planned something or..?

The game goes back and forth between truths and dares among everyone, until it finally lands on katsuki.

“Now, for the birthday boy! Truth or dare?” Denki asks, sneaking looks at the other classmates suggestively.

“Tch, dare obviously. I ain’t no pussy.” katsuki replies, sighing in boredom.

“I dare you…to show us your text messages between you and y/n!” Mina yells excitedly, leaning into katsuki.

“The fuck?! Why should I do that?!” He yells in surprise, backing away from Mina.

“Got something to hide? I thought you weren’t a pussy huh?” Denki says before snatching katsukis phone.

“GIVE THAT- I'M NOT NO PUSSY, GO AHEAD SHIT FACE”

The class crowds around denki as he scrolls through the messages, but to their dismay, all they saw was just messages asking about each other's day, good night messages, the occasional random photo, but.. that's it.

“Are you guys even together? Where’s the spicy stuff?” Sero whines, snatching the phone as he scrolls back further.

Before they can do any more, katsuki snatches his phone back and shoves it in his pocket.

“You ain’t gonna find any of that dumb shit, no point looking, idiots” he barks out before huffing and looking over at you, leaning in a little closer to calm himself down.

“So you’re telling me…there’s nothing. You guys are no fun!” Denki huffs before looking over at you.

“Mina, you wanna ask y/n now? I’ve had enough asking”

“Yeah! I have a few ideas…y/n, truth or dare?”

“Umm…truth!” You say enthusiastically, leaning over and resting your head on katsukis shoulder as you look over at Mina.

“Have you guys done it?” She says in a low tone, making sure any teachers crossing by wouldnt be able to hear her.

Both you and katsuki tense up before heat rises to both of your cheeks. A long line of silence comes before mineta pops out of nowhere and leans in close to you.

“Yeah! Have you guys done it yet? What was she like bakugou? Was she-“ mineta was cut off by katsuki picking him up and throwing him over to the other couch far away from them before he could say anymore.

“Well? Have you?” Sero pipes up and you look over at Katsuki before slowly shaking your head.

“O-of course we haven’t-! We have only been together for two months i-“

“YOU STILL HAVEN’T AFTER TWO MONTHS?” Denkis eyes look like they have popped out of his head as he switches his gaze between the two of you.

Katsuki stays quiet as he looks away, his face dusting a light shade of pink.

“ I have an even better question!!” hagakure pipes in.

“Do any of you want to? Like have you thought about it?”

“Ooo, good question! So, have you?” Mina asks, buzzing with excitement.

“W-well..i..i-i” you stutter, face flushing with heat as you look over at katsuki to see his face even more red, which makes you even more flustered.

“I-its only fuckin’ natural, what, do you expect us to not think of this k-kinda shit or something? Idiots..” katsuki mumbles under his breath, his voice quivering slightly. Your eyes widen in surprise at his confession. He’s thought about you like that? You would never have expected..unless you were just so oblivious you never noticed…

“So you have!! Ha! I knew it! You do have a heart down there kacchan!” Denki jokes, the rest of the class chuckling along with him, causing Bakugou to huff before standing up, grumbling as he walks away back to his dorm.

“Well.. I guess he’s a bit tired, i’m gonna head off to sleep too. Thanks for helping me set up the party guys! I'll see you in class tomorrow.” You say with a smile, your face still pink as you slink off to katsukis dorm, following him in.

You get dressed into one of his shirts along with your panties before heading into his bed, taking in his scent on his pillows. He comes out a little after you, dressed in a black tank top and some black sleeping pants before laying down in bed next to you.

“Well that was fuckin’ tiring. It’s already 12:38 in the morning..way past my bedtime.” He mumbles the last sentence under his breath, his voice trailing off.

You snuggle into him, your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck and your arm slinked across his waist, his toned abs prominent under the material.

You both lay there for a while in silence, enjoying each other's presence. But that one conversation between denki and katsuki is still on repeat in your mind. Does katsuki really think about you like that? Does he want more? Does he..like thinking about me like that?…

Your thoughts eventually become unbearable and before you can think it through, a question slips out.

“Is what you said to denki true?..do..you think about me like that?” You mumble under your breath, half hoping that katsuki was already asleep and not hearing you talk—but unknown to you, katsuki was going through the exact same conversation; the way your face turned a bright red as soon as denki brought it up, your cute little stuttering as you tried to find the right answer.

“…yeah…don’t…you?” He says quietly, avoiding your gaze.

You hesitate before answering.

“ yeah..I’ve..I’ve been thinking about it for a while..”

“You have?” Katsuki answers, his voice laced with surprise. Yeah, he can’t help feeling those emotions towards you, but the fact that you felt those too? Fuck, it was too much for him.

You simply nod, staying silent.

“What…what do you think about?” He asks, playing with your hair with his fingers trying anything to distract himself from the conversation.

Your face heats up and you nuzzle your face even more into his neck.

“W-well..i..i think about you..doing certain things with me..” you whisper timidly, looking down.

Katsukis breath hitches. Such a simple, innocent sentence can even knock him down just like that. He feels his pants tightening slightly and he huffs.

“I..think about..what i wanna do to you..” he says, his voice quivering slightly.

“Y-you ever..touch..yourself while you think about that?”

Katsuki can feel his bulge painfully tugging against the material of his pants at this point, his breath uneasy.

“Y-yeah..” he stutters. “You?”

You nod again in reply, your whole body quivering slightly from anticipation.

You reach over, taking your hand away from his waist when it brushes over his bulge and he gasps quietly.

“Are you..hard..’suki?”

You reach down again and brush your fingertips over his clothes bulge again and he bucks his hips up, desperate for your touch.

“D-don't..fuckin’ tease me..” he manages to stutter out, trying to calm himself.

You look into his eyes lovingly before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Do..you want me to..um..suck you off?” You suggest, your voice trailing off as you look away, unable to meet katsukis piercing gaze.

Katsukis mind swirls as he hears you suggest that, and he nods quickly.

“If you are ready for that..then fuck yeah..”

You take no time to lean down and kiss him gently, but before long the kiss starts to heat up, katsukis tongue swirling around yours as you fiddle to lift off his singlet. Once it’s off you take a moment to take in the sight in front of you. Katsuki, there in front of you laying down, puffing as his bare chest rises and falls. You duck down and bring your tongue down to his neck, placing gentle kisses and marks here and there, before trailing your lips down to his nipples, swirling your tongue around them. As you do this, katsuki quickly brings his hand to your head, his hand gripping your hair firmly as he pants.

“Mmphh…fuck..”

He groans, tilting his head back on his pillow.

“Can i..?” You ask sweetly, tugging at the waistband of his pants. He quickly nods, bringing his head back up so he can see your every move, taking a point to remember this moment.

You tug down his pants, revealing the fact that he has no boxers or underwear underneath, his shaft springing free. Your breath hitches at the sight. How is that gonna fit in you one day? Sure you have tried your fingers but that? That’s like your whole hand!

Katsuki notices your wide eyes and hesitation and he smirks confidently.

“Something on your mind?” He says suggestively, looking down at you with half lidded eyes.

“You are so fucking hot..”

“I know, idio- h-hah!” Katsuki gets cut off by the feeling of your warm tongue on his tip, swirling around and licking off any extra pre-cum. He throws his head back, with one hand gripping your hair tightly and the other covering his mouth as he groans.

“can..can you take your hand away? I wanna hear you..” you ask timidly before starting to take his tip into your mouth.

“F-fuckin’ fine..if anyone hears us im blaming it on you- hnngh!” He groans as you start to take more of him into your mouth, struggling to fit it all in. As you stop halfway down on his shaft, katsuki starts to softly thrust his hips up into your mouth shallowly, making sure not to hurt you in any way, but at the same time get the pleasure he needs. You moan into his cock , sending vibrations down his length, causing him to audibly moan.

“S-so..warm..tight..so much better than my hand..” he pants, tilting his head down again so he can look at you, your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

“You alright? Tap..my leg if you need a break..youre doing so..m-mmph! So good f’ me..” he praises, thrusting deeper and deeper down your throat each time. It’s uncomfortable, but not so bad you can’t bear it. Man, you are so turned on you can barely even notice any discomfort anymore.

Katsukis grip on your hair gets tighter and he starts to thrust quicker and more sloppily.

“‘M c-close..fuck im so close..you wanna..f-fuck! You wanna pull off?” He asks between pants, looking into your eyes reassuringly.

You keep going, this time bobbing your head up and down to indicate that he can cum inside. His breathing becomes faster and his moans become louder as he does one final thrust, shoving himself down your throat as warm liquid pours out.

You pull away and cough slightly before swallowing, taking every last drop of what he gave you. As you look up at him, you take a mental picture of what you see. There he is again, His head thrown back, hand covering his mouth as sweat soaks his toned bare torso and arms. This was something you could get used to.

He looks down at you after catching his breath, you pulling up his pants again and helping him get on his singlet before nuzzling up into him once again, feeling his chest rising and falling against your cheek.

“best fuckin’ birthday ever”

[solarmorrigan]

“That’s it?” Steve asks. “You’re not going to go to prom because you don’t know how to dance?”

“I’m uncoordinated enough! I don’t need to be out there making even more of an idiot of myself in some floofy dress,” Robin insists.

“Rob, no one at prom knows how to dance. Everyone kind of looks like an idiot, that’s half the point,” Steve says.

“Oh yeah, Steve, you’re really selling me on the experience,” Robin drawls.

“No, listen, I’m not done,” Steve says, giving her a nudge. “The other half of the point is just… going and having the memories, y’know? You get to dress up and take the dumb picture with your date, and avoid the punch because someone probably spiked it, and you get to dance and be close to someone and just, like, be carefree for a night.”

Robin says nothing. She doesn’t agree that prom night is paramount to the teen experience, she doesn’t tease the shit out of him for having such stereotypical expectations of a dumb high school dance, she’s just… watching him. She’s turned sideways on the sofa, one leg drawn up to her chest, and she’s looking at him like he’s something between a fascinating puzzle and the saddest thing she’s seen all day, and he knows what she’s thinking.

Steve hadn’t gone to senior prom. He’d been planning to, of course, at the beginning of the year – he’d had Nancy then, and even as early as October, he’d been fantasizing about the flowers he’d bring her and the dinner they’d go to and the way they would sway slowly to whatever shitty songs the DJ put on. But by the time spring had rolled around, he not only hadn’t had Nancy, he hadn’t really had any friends in school at all—not real ones—and so he hadn’t seen the point in attending.

He'd gone to a movie with Dustin that night, instead (he’s at least eighty percent certain the little shit had set it up as some kind of pity outing, since he’d known Steve wasn’t going to prom, but it had been kind of nice that someone had cared enough to even try). It hadn’t been bad, but it hadn’t been exactly what he’d wanted.

Stiffly, Steve glances away from Robin and shrugs. “Or whatever. That’s what it’s like in the movies, right?”

Robin opens her mouth, but her eyes are still soft, and suddenly Steve doesn’t want to hear what she has to say. Instead, he levers himself up off the couch and turns to her, holding out a hand.

“C’mon, I’ll teach you,” he says, cracking a grin. “Then you won’t have an excuse not to go.”

“You… want to teach me how to dance,” Robin asks flatly.

Steve shrugs. “You got anything better to do tonight?”

Raising a sharp brow at Steve, Robin starts to smile, too. “You sure you wanna subject your feet to that?”

“I think I can handle it,” Steve shoots back, and then Robin is up off the couch and helping him push the coffee table out of the way.

They rifle through Steve’s collection of tapes until they find something he deems just the right tempo, pop the cassette in, and stand in the middle of the living room.

“Okay, give me your hand,” Steve says, taking her right hand in his left, “and your other goes on my shoulder.”

Robin does as he says, glancing dubiously down at her feet as Steve places his hand on her waist. “I’m not actually sure this is a good idea,” she says with a grimace. “I might be unteachable.”

“We haven’t even started yet,” Steve reminds her. “Seriously, relax, this is super easy. It’s just a box step waltz.”

Despite her uncertainty, Robin can’t help but smirk at him. “A waltz, huh?” she teases. “Did your parents make you take fancy-pants, rich kid dance lessons when you were younger, or something?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No. My mom taught me,” he says, and then rushes on before Robin has anything to say about that. “So you’re gonna start by stepping back with your right foot when I step forward, alright?”

Brows furrowed, Robin nods and looks down at her feet again, and Steve squeezes her waist gently to get her attention.

“Look up at me, not at your feet. It’ll be easier, I promise.”

“How am I going to know what my feet are doing if I’m not looking at them?”

“You’re attached to them, Robin.”

“That’s debatable.”

Steve tries not to laugh. He really does. “Okay, you’re in marching band, right? This cannot be harder than following whatever steps that involves while also playing an instrument.”

“This is different!” Robin insists. “I can’t step on the French horn’s feet! The French horn isn’t gonna judge me if I fuck up! Like, the worst that’ll happen in marching band is that the drum major will yell at you, and the drum major is always yelling, so it doesn’t even make a difference anymore, and–”

“Hey,” Steve cuts in, squeezing Robin’s hand this time. “I’m not going to judge you if you fuck up, okay? I am literally the last person qualified to do that.”

Robin huffs out a little laugh. “Right. Two of a kind,” she says.

“Exactly.” Steve grins. “Now c’mon, Buckley, I know you’ve got this. On one, back with your right foot.”

Nodding, Robin glances down at her feet, but looks right back up at Steve. “Okay.”

“Okay. One–”

Steve steps forward with his left foot, and Robin immediately steps forward with her right and kicks him in the shin.

“Ow,” Steve says, dry and flat because it hadn’t really hurt.

“Sorry!” Robin ducks her head, laughing nervously.

Steve shakes his head. “Let’s try that again. Back with your right foot.”

“At least I had the right side?”

“Yep, now aim for the right direction, yeah?”

This time, when Steve counts off, Robin’s right foot goes back, and his left follows her.

“Okay, now what?” Robin asks, looking down again.

“Now, you’re gonna bring your left foot–” gently, Steve judges the top of her left foot with his right, “back,” as she begins to slide back, he moves and taps the inside of her ankle, “and to the left. Just like that.”

“No injuries this time,” Robin quips, and Steve smiles.

“Now move your right foot over next to your left.” He nods as Robin gets her feet back together. “Forward with your left foot – good,” he encourages as he steps back to mirror her. “And now forward and to the side with your right. Like you did with your left before, but opposite.”

“Uh.” Robin makes the move slowly, still staring down, but she looks back up at him when she gets her right foot planted. “Like that?”

“Yep. Now left foot over, and–” Steve follows her, bringing them back to the same position they started in, “that’s it!”

Robin blinks at him. “That’s it?”

“Easy, right?” Steve says.

“Yeah.” Robin nods hesitantly. “I think I can handle that.”

“Of course you can,” Steve insists. “Now let’s try it again. Back with your right foot. One–”

Robin steps forward with her right and kicks Steve in the shin.

“Sorry!”

Steve quickly becomes glad they’re both in their socks, or he’d be sporting much more serious bruises by the time they reach the end of the tape. Robin doesn’t have any trouble keeping the order of the steps in mind, but keeps moving in the opposite direction of where she’s supposed to be going, and Steve has been kicked and stepped on more times in the last half hour than he thinks he has been in his entire life.

“This is ridiculous,” Robin groans. “This is the literal definition of women having to do everything backwards and in heels!”

“You’re not wearing heels,” Steve points out.

“I would be at prom,” Robin says. “Why do I have to go backwards?”

“Because you’re following.”

“Well why can’t I lead?”

“Because you don’t even know how to follow!”

“Exactly! I’m starting from scratch either way!” Robin aims pleading eyes up at Steve. “Can’t we just try it in reverse? How much worse at it could I be?”

The thing is, Steve’s only ever led when dancing – he’s never had reason to learn how to do the follow part. But then, he’s already been reversing the steps in his head all night in order to instruct Robin; following couldn’t be that hard, could it?

“Fine,” Steve groans, letting his head hang back for a moment. “Fine. Trade me.”

“Yes! Trade!” Robin pumps her fist once in triumph, and Steve can’t help but laugh.

He lets go of her right hand and instead takes her left before putting his other hand on her shoulder.

“Hand on my waist.” Steve nods to his to his left side, and Robin moves into position. “Right, so you’re gonna step forward with your left this time, okay?”

Robin nods. “Forward with my left. Okay.”

“Okay. One–”

Steve steps back with his right foot. Robin steps back with her left.

They stand there, each half balanced on their back foot, staring at each other, before Robin bursts into laughter. Steve follows suit.

“I– I told you I was unteachable,” Robin giggles once they’ve caught their breath, her forehead resting on Steve’s shoulder.

“Nope, this is a personal challenge now,” Steve insists, still grinning. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter. You’re going to learn to waltz if it kills me.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘if it kills me’?” Robin draws back to ask.

“My death is looking a lot more likely at this point,” Steve says, and Robin snorts.

“God, you’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah, okay, Miss Unteachable. Ready to try again?”

Robin takes in a breath, wiggles her shoulders, and puts her hands back in position. “Ready.”

“Great. Just remember–”

“Forward with my left foot,” Robin echoes, overlapping Steve’s instruction perfectly.

Steve grins. “Okay, then. One–”

Somehow, Robin makes a better leader than a follower. Once she gets over the initial nerves, she manages the reverse order of steps just fine, even getting confident enough to stop looking at her feet after several sets.

(The fact that Steve has no trouble immediately reversing the steps himself and still instructing Robin receives no comment, though it does receive a brief glare, which gets a smug grin in return.)

They rewind the tape again and keep going. Steve lifts their joined hands to spin Robin around when they hit the second song and she follows with a laugh before insisting that, since she’s leading, she should be the one spinning Steve. He has to duck a little to get under her arm, but they feel the maneuver is quite successful.

Robin offers to try to dip him, but Steve declines, insisting he doesn’t feel like getting dropped on the floor today, earning a pinch at his waist even as Robin laughs.

As the evening wears on, they give up their carefully-held waltz positions and lean in close, until Robin’s head is resting on Steve’s shoulder again, her arms wrapped around his waist, while Steve drapes his arms over her shoulders and leans his head on top of hers.

“This is the kind of slow dancing I would’ve expected from Steve Harrington at prom,” Robin says as they sway in gentle circles to the beat of the music.

Steve hiccups out a little laugh. “Yeah, well, I had to make sure you knew how to do the real thing, first.”

“And?” Robin asks. “Do I pass?”

“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” Steve says. “Now you have no excuse not to go.”

“Steve,” Robin draws back a little, enough to look up at him without pulling away, “who the hell do you think I’m going to be dancing with at prom? It’s not like I can ask– anyone I’d be interested in.”

Steve’s heart sinks a little, the same way it always does when he’s reminded of how fucking unfair the world is to Robin and to other people like her. He shrugs a bit lamely. “You could go with friends?”

“I guess,” Robin says, staring at the front of Steve’s shirt, suddenly lost in thought.

Steve frowns. He doesn’t even remember what had gotten them onto the subject of prom—it’s January, the dance is months away—but what had started out as something fun is starting to make Robin feel bad, and he can’t have that.

“Hey, I didn’t mean–”

“You should go with me,” Robin cuts in, looking back up at him.

“What?”

“To prom,” Robin says. “You should be my big ol’ platonic date.”

“Right,” Steve drawls. “Because going to prom the year after you’ve graduated doesn’t scream that you haven’t moved on from high school at all. Definitely not sad, or anything.”

“Sure,” Robin agrees wryly. “About as un-sad as not going to your senior dance at all.”

Steve cuts a sharp look at Robin, who just smiles at him.

“I mean, I’m just saying: who better to give me the whole prom experience?” Robin shrugs, tone entirely too innocent to be trusted. “If you go with me, we can dress up and get the dumb picture together, and we can avoid the punch, and you can tell me all the gossip I know for a fact you still know about at least half the people there, we can dance… The whole shebang.”

When Steve had been imagining prom night with Nancy the year before, he’d imagined romance. He’d imagined meeting her eyes across the dinner table and sneaking kisses on the dance floor. He’d imagined going back to his place afterwards and making love, spending the rest of the night worshipping Nancy and making sure she knew how beautiful she’d looked and what a wonderful time he’d had with her.

But when he thinks about it now, he thinks about making jokes at dinner with Robin, about standing around in the tinsel-strewn gym and making catty remarks about who’s dressed terribly and whose dancing is even worse. He thinks about them dancing together, still, and maybe they’ll still go back to his place afterwards, where they can watch terrible movies for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t sound at all like what he’d wanted a year ago.

It sounds perfect, now.

“You’ll have to buy the tickets,” Steve finally says, and Robin’s face lights up. “And I expect my corsage to be very fancy.”

Robin laughs. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t be a cheap date, Harrington.”

“We can go Dutch on dinner, if you want,” Steve says.

“How generous,” Robin deadpans, and Steve doesn’t bother to hold back his own grin.

They both know he’s probably going to pay for dinner. He doesn’t mind.

“You’re serious, though?” Robin asks, looking up at him. “You really want to go to prom just to waltz with me?”

“Well, I went to all the trouble of teaching you.” Steve shrugs.

Robin bites her lip around a smile. “Do I get to lead?”

“For the sake of my shins, you’d better,” Steve says, and Robin laughs, leaning back in to cinch her arms around his waist again.

“You are my favorite person, you know that?” she says softly, just audible over music still crooning from the stereo.

“Yeah,” Steve says, pressing his cheek to the top of her head and closing his eyes. “You’re mine, too.”

[Prompt: Slow dancing]

[penkura]

I feel like I annoy you. I am so sorry if i do and feel free to ignore it.

After you wrote feverdream so beautifully I was so overwhelmed. (Ofc i do love all of your work)

Tbh Penguin with a dominant side lives free in my head. Especially if he maybe isnt too fond of reader during a miscommunication (or other scenarios). I am weak for an enemy to lover trope. Even so we know that our boy is mostly totally sweet and most likely to become friends with everyone in an instant.

So if you are interested in it or find inspiration I would love to see the result.

Otherwise if you prefer pure fluff. It would surely be funny for either Penguin or Law tonget hit by a truth fruit kinda power. So they have to be completely honest for a short period of time and i can totally see them going to hide so they cant spell their true feelings towards you.

Either way have a fantastic day and i sure hope work will treat you good and you can take a break soon ❤️

Since you've been doing the Truth Truth Fruit posts, I'll do the first prompt! 👀 I got an idea that I hope is to your liking, and everyone else's of course!

More Penguin prompts please I love him sm

Penguin doesn’t get you at all.

He’s tried, every day since you joined, to be nice and accommodating, he tries to include you in group card games, attempts to help you with whatever chores you’re assigned, and stays up to sit with you on night watches. The problem, though, is you, how you don’t even talk to him when he tries to speak to you or anything really. If he calls for you, you stare at him with your eyes slightly wide, which confuses him greatly. If he has something for you or Law needs you, all you do is nod in response and leave, not even thanking him.

What the hell is your problem, what could he have done to make you act so coldly towards him? He just wants to be your friend, even when Shachi tries to suggest it’s more than that is what Penguin wants, but he just rolls his eyes at his lifelong friend. There are zero ulterior motives, he’s just trying to be nice and a good crewmate, that’s all it is.

If only you would talk to him, let him prove he’s not a bad person, but he’s just so frustrated at this point that he’s given up, Penguin has started to ignore you just the same as you’ve done to him. He only speaks to you now if Law needs something from you, he doesn’t even ask you to join in cards night or to go with him and Shachi into towns anymore. If you do hang out with everyone on game nights, you’re more inclined to sit off to the side with Law and watch everyone, mostly talking to your captain.

Penguin has mostly given up, you won’t talk to him or anything. You must dislike him, that’s the only thing that makes sense, isn’t it? Yeah, that’s it. You don’t like him. He can’t make you like him, so he won’t try anymore, he won’t bother. He stops talking to you entirely, even if someone else needs you. He just gets Shachi or Ikkaku to talk to you.

It does annoy your crewmates, to see the two of you at odds and not wanting to talk to each other for…what was the reason again? Shachi isn’t sure, but he’s tired of it just like the rest of them.

It's why he brings up the idea of leading you and Penguin into one of the supply closets, separately, before locking you both in and setting someone as guard to prevent anyone from letting you out until you’ve talked about things. He’s lucky that your crewmates are willing to help, Clione easily leads you in and the makes an excuse that he needs to ask Law something. In reality he went to get Penguin with the same excuse of needing to look for something, pushing the older man into the closet and causing him to nearly knock you over, before the door is pulled closed and locked from the outside. Penguin really tried to open it, for several minutes, before he sighed and gave up. You’d already decided to sit in a corner and let him be, even while he kicks an empty bucket out of frustration.

“Stupid, all of them.” Penguin sighs and sits across from you the best he can, though it’s still close enough that your shoes are touching.

You don’t say anything, you’re confused why you and Penguin have been locked in the supply closet. You know he doesn’t like you, you’ve known from the start, believing he’s always pretending to be nice when he invites you for games and the like. You were used to that, from men and women, but you’d come to trust Ikkaku and Clione more than anyone. Shachi was working his way into your circle, but you felt like Penguin was just messing with you all the time, even when your crewmates swore he wasn’t like that and he really did want to be your friend. It’s hard for you to believe that, even harder to accept it despite your growing feelings for Penguin.

Part of you wonders what you did to develop a crush on someone who doesn’t even talk to you anymore.

“…any idea why they locked us in here?”

Penguin shrugs, ignoring the fact this is the first time he’s heard your voice in the last few months you’ve been with them.

“Probably trying to make us talk or something. Bet Shachi came up with it.” Another sigh whole he takes off his hat for a moment to brush his hair back, barely taking note of how your eyes widen a little and you look more nervous, “Just cause we’re on the same crew doesn’t me have to like each other…”

“Oh,” your shoulders drop a bit but you nod, you figured he didn’t like you after all, “Yeah…I guess so…”

Odd, he didn’t think you’d sound so disappointed. If you two are locked in here though, he might as well try some small talk. There’s nothing else to do unless you want to make a supplies list.

“Can I ask you something?” Penguin has to think of how to word it when you nod, even as you keep your eyes off him, “Why don’t you talk to me?”

It takes you a few minutes to come up with a response, Penguin thinks you’re not to answer so he doesn’t hold his breath for one. It stands to reason, you don’t talk to him normally anyway.

“My last crew, well, just a couple of them, they’d invite me to do stuff then go without me or tell me it was a joke,” you sigh a little while Penguin watches you, seeming to understand a little more, “I guess I just let that get to me when you started being so friendly, I was expecting the same things. I should—”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I wanted to be friends with you.”

“Shachi told me that but I didn’t believe him…I’m sorry, I should’ve trusted that you weren’t like them.”

“…I probably should’ve taken things slow, sorry.”

You both stay quiet for a bit after that, not sure what else to say or talk about. It feels so awkward, you hate this kind of forced small talk. Penguin eventually stands up, holding his hand out to help you up, and not letting go after you’re on your feet, giving you a slight smile.

“Let’s start over, yeah? We’ll pretend the last few months didn’t happen, and work out a friendship together.”

“I think I’d like that, Penguin.”

You two will move past this, you’ll become real friends and spend more time together, especially after Shachi lets you out of the closet and Penguin chases him down for it, threatening to lock his friend in their next. The next time Penguin invites you to play cards with everyone, you join and end up beating him during a far too long game of poker. He’s shocked but the grin on your face makes his heart feel weird, and he can’t help the smile that comes across his own face.

Man…maybe Shachi was right and there is more here…

[marvelobsessed134]

I’m not that innocent

A/n: Set around the events of Iron Man 2. Instead for Natasha spying on Tony, you will take her place. (Love Nat tho don’t get me wrong). This has been sitting in my drafts for *ehem* about 500 years but here it is :)

Warnings: smut, blowjobs, getting caught (not sexually), degradation, reader goes by a undercover name for a short amount of time, reader doesn’t get to cum lol, and I think that’s it let me know if I forgot anything.

Summary: Tony catches onto your act

This mission was simple enough. Go undercover as Tony Stark’s assistant to collect information on him for Nick Fury. Originally your friend Natasha was supposed to go on this mission but unfortunately she got sick with the flu so Fury asked you to take over.

You were nervous since Tony is a powerful CEO, literally Iron Man, and he’s mega hot. But you knew you had to set aside your personal feelings to successfully get this mission done. The CEO was obviously flirty with you, and you couldn’t help but be a little flustered. Everything was going according to plan until one day.

You were caught bent over in his office, looking through one of his file drawers when you heard a door open, close and lock. A grunt filled the room. You quickly looked up to see non other than your target. Standing there like a deer in the headlights, you just stared back at the older (and albeit larger) man.

“What do you think you’re doing Missy?” Tony asked as he slowly started to stalk towards you. “Just looking for these files that Pepper wanted.” You tried to easily make up a lie.

“That’s interesting because Pepper left early today.” Ah, shit. You are so cooked.

“Oh! Um, sorry must’ve slipped my mind um-“

“What were you doing sifting through my private files?”

Quick, Y/n, say something! Your mind shouted at you. But really, what excuse were you supposed to use now? Especially since he called your bullshit on your first one. Without even having to say anything, Tony spoke up, “I have a feeling you’re not really an assistant. You work for SHIELD is that right?” Okay, how the fuck did he get that spot on?

It must’ve been written all over your face because he said, “Yeah, I’ve had an inkling for awhile. I bet your name isn’t really Holly Brooks. What’s your real one?”

You were too scared and stunned to speak and so the raven haired man lifted your chin with his index finger and said in a lower tone, “I said, what is your real name?”

You gulped, “Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

“That name suits you far better than Holly does. And because you’re so pretty, I’ll let you out of this office and I can forget you ever did anything.” You looked at him with a surprised but hopeful expression.

“But you’re gonna have to earn it, sweetheart.”

“Earn it? How?” You had an idea of what this “earning” would entail and it made your panties damp.

“I think you know what I want.” He said cockily before pushing the file drawer closed and walking to his desk chair before sitting down in a leaning position. “Get on your knees pretty girl.” You were quick to obey, getting on your knees as you looked at him with doe eyes.

“You gonna undo my pants or what? Are too much of a dumb spy to not know how to suck cock?” His degrading words sent you spiraling and you let out a quiet, “Sorry sir.” Before buckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down allowing his large cock to spring free. Your eyes widened at the size and the tip already leaking of precum. You did wear a revealing outfit today, a white blouse with the first three buttons undone to show your black lacy bra, and a shirt black pencil skirt with just your matching panties under it. Maybe you were waiting for this moment…

You took his cock in your hand and began to jerk him off before taking the tip in your mouth and sinking down his length. “Oh fuck.” Tony hissed as you began to suck him off, bobbing your head up and down and jerking off whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The older man gripped your hair roughly and started to control your movements, using your mouth as his own personal fleshlight.

“Such a slut, you like this don’t you? I know you’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I saw you staring at me a couple times with those fuck me eyes.” He groaned out, enjoying the way tears filled your eyes as you helplessly sat there on your knees being used by him.

“Who knew you were such a good cocksucker? I’m gonna have to keep you around.” His words made your brain short circuit and encouraged you to lick him and help him get to his finish while he was using your mouth.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum. You better take it all or I swear to god-“ The CEO cut himself off when he released his seed into your mouth and down your throat, you swallowed it all and he pulled you off his dick, leaning your head back to look at you. Your mascara was messed up, your face was wet from tears, and your eyes were blissed out.

“Such a pretty girl. Could’ve treated you real nice, taken you out to dinner before I take you home and destroy that little cunt. Too bad you have to be a whore.” His tone was so condescending and somehow that made it better.

“Get up.” Tony commanded and let go of your hair. You stood up and watched him rise as well, taking his blazer jacket off and loosening his tie before unbuttoning his shirt and fully getting rid of his pants. He grabbed you and pushed you against the side of his desk, kissing you hungrily. You kissed him back, hands wandering his sculpted body like it was the best thing you’ve ever put your hands on.

The raven haired man ripped your white shirt open and roughly pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts, letting them pop out effortlessly. He tweaked and played with your nipples, spitting on them, sucking them, making you moan and squeal in the overwhelming sensation.

Then he pulled your skirt up roughly, and cupped your clothed core, “So fucking wet. Just from sucking my dick? Or was it being naughty and getting caught doing something you shouldn’t have been doing? Which is it?”

“Both.” You answered obediently and honestly.

“Fucking slut.” He huffed before ripping your panties off which caused you to gasp but you didn’t have a chance to open your mouth when he turned you around and bent you over as if you were nothing.

He slapped your ass once, twice, three times before lining up his cock to your dripping entrance. As he gripped your hips he slowly pushed in making the two of you moan. Oh god, you thought to yourself, his employees can probably hear this. They think you’re just another one of his conquests. In way, you are.

“Oh fuck! So fucking tight!” Tony growled as he began to thrust and fuck into you faster and harder slapping your ass occasionally. “Such a bad girl, thinking you can tease me all day, make me hard in meetings, just to try and fucking spy on me,” he scoffs, as if the whole situation was pathetic, “but now I have my cock deep your pussy so, at least one of us is winning.” He continued to fuck you senseless, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. You couldn’t hide your moans and cries as the CEO repeatedly hit your g spot.

“Oh god! I’m gonna cum!” You cried.

“Yeah? Do you think you deserve it? After all you did?” Tony grunted.

“Yes! Please let me cum! I’ve been such a good girl so far!” Your cries and pleads were pathetic. You were pathetic, Tony thought. And god was he having the time of his life.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to edge and said, “Yeah, I don’t think so.” And pulled out of you before shooting his cum on your ass.

You whined at the loss of contact and orgasm making him laugh and say, “If you want to cum, you have to let me take you out to dinner. And get rid of any files you might have stolen from me digital and physical copies.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Office Space 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re an assistant to private and corporate investigator, Nick Fowler, and find yourself brought into the fold of his shady professional life. 

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, this reader is known as Elfie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Girls’ night leaves you wanting. The single appletini has you less than content but you know better than to push your limit. Not when you have to face work the next day. You’re even more put off by the man who sent the complementary drinks; Dizzie’s boss.  

It feels like he’s trespassing, even if he keeps his distance. You are all well aware of the presence of him and his colleagues. Rosie is flustered and Billie is further demotivated by the looming shadow of the workplace she sought to forget. A grey cloud dampens the long-awaited get together. Maybe next time you’ll try somewhere new. 

You leave at a reasonable time, just after Georgie’s early departure. You feel lame for it. Even if you’re not due at the office until noon, the impromptu shift throws off your whole schedule. Your errands will have to be done around Mr. Fowler’s schedule. 

You have breakfast, get your laundry through the cycle, do half the dishes, then get ready for work. You put on a collared-wrap blouse and some peach-coloured slacks. It won’t hurt to bring a bit of colour to the gray office.  

As you come in sight of the office, another approaches from the next corner. You slow as you recognise the man’s lithe strides and his blonde hair. His stature puts him above the other pedestrians as he meets you at the door.  

Mr. Pine smiles as he greets you, “Elfie, fine timing.” 

“Sir? I didn’t know you were expected,” you poke around in your purse in search of the keys. 

“No? I’m fairly certain Fowler should be awaiting me, no?” He reaches for the door and opens it. Ah, your boss must already be in office, “after you, darling.” 

You look up at the pet name but don’t comment on it. You’ve been called worse. He’s only being nice. You step in ahead of him and stop just beside your desk as you glance back. The door closes heavily at Pine’s back as he follows you in. 

“Tea,” you reach into your bag and pull out the little canister you plucked from your cupboards last night, “I’m afraid I only have Earl Gray.” 

“Well, I do appreciate the thought,” he says, “if you wouldn’t mind, a cup would be in order. Thank you, Elfie.” 

It’s as if he makes a point of calling you by name. It does sound rather delicious on his tongue. He doesn’t hesitate to knock on Fowler’s door. 

“Nicholas,” he calls over the rap of his knuckles. 

You enter the break room and put the kettle to boil as you start on Fowler’s usual. His mug is waiting dirty beside the machine. That’s his demand. He often tells you what to do in gestures rather than words. 

You wash out his mug and drop a bag of Earl Gray in yours. You let the tea steep as the nespresso grinds loudly. You come out with both cups and find the office empty. Fowler’s door is open. You sweep around and approach cautiously. 

“Excuse me,” you use your toe to tap on the door frame. 

Fowler nods as he continues his diatribe to the other man. As your boss sits in behind his desk, Pine paces and flutters his longer fingers along his lapel. He stops as you enter and accepts his cup from you with a murmured thank you. You retreat as he tugs on the string of the bag and dunks it over and over. 

You leave them and shut the door. You return to your desk and finally get yourself situated. You put your purse in your drawer and stretch out your fingers before you set to your digital cataloguing. The click and scroll of your mouse fills the void as you sort yesterday’s work into tidy folders and subfolders. 

Fowler’s door opens and you pause your task. You look up expectantly as Mr. Pine emerges. To your surprise, he nears your desk. 

“I must praise you on your immaculate work, darling,” he says, “the tea as well,” he places the empty cup on the corner of your desk, “but I did appreciate the level of organization.” 

“Sir?” You prompt. 

“Fowler says you did much of the archiving around here. He is ever thorough but I know he cannot do it on his own,” he purrs, “I’ve a mind to snatch you away. I’ve been well in need of a decent assistant.” 

“She’s taken,” Fowler startles you as he looms in his office door. Pine’s lips slant and he angles towards the other man. 

“Of course, it is a spot of humour, chap,” Pine insists, “I have, however, bartered us a partnership. I have a project in need of doing and you’ve a shining reference and rather benevolent boss.” 

“Elf,” Fowler marches to your desk, standing next to Pine, “my colleague with be taking over the floating office for the next few weeks. He will forward his files. You know what to do.” 

“Oh, yes, sir,” you affirm, “of course.” 

“Your usual tasks remain in place,” Fowler girds, “I know you can handle it.” 

“Um, yes, Mr. Fowler,” you stand and clasp your hands behind you, “should I open the floating office now?” 

Fowler nods curtly and spins on his heel. He strides back to his office and leaves the door open. You smile at Pine and point him past the doorway, “just down there.” You come around the desk with your keys, “used to be a storage room but Mr. Fowler doesn’t like clutter. Converted it to a workspace after there was a leak in his...” you stop at the door and unlock it, “I’m sure you don’t care about all that.” 

“Mm, it is a charming little place,” he remarks as you step back and he enters the barren office. 

“Dusty,” you tut, “I’ll grab some lysol wipes and get it cleaned up.” 

“I might do that myself, darling, you’ve enough on your plate,” he insists, “but bring me the supplies and I will get all in order.” He turns to face you and casually slides his hands into his pocket. The light blue of his suit compliments his eyes perfectly, “and I dare say I owe you for that tea. You should have to let me return the favour some time.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to, sir, that’s very kind of you though,” you say.  

“Ah, but where I come from, tea is a very serious matter. I’m obliged,” he sets his feet flat and his shoulders wide.  

“Some time,” you agree vaguely, “I’ll go get those wipes.” 

You turn and come down the short hall. Fowler clears his throat as you pass and you slow, peeking inside, “sir?” 

He doesn’t look up, merely clinking his metal pen on his mug. You dip inside and take the half-finished coffee. It’s cold. You quickly retreat to make him a new one, reminding yourself about the wipes. You’re going to have to work on your multitasking. 

[shuggymaniac]

I had this story idea for a long time and can’t keep it to myself

Warning major angst ahead!

Buggy makes a lot of weapons and I always headcanoned that he was fascinated with different weapons and reactions since he was a kid and the Roger’s pirates along with the captain supported him and would even give him materials to work with, sometimes when he tests the weapons they will all be there to cheer or comfort him.

On with the story

Roger is sick he is going to die anyway but he wanted to give one final message to the world and what better way to do that than to give himself to the marines where they will give him public execution and of course the world will be there to see and hear. But there is a problem Roger doesn’t want to to die by the hands of the marines, he’d rather rot in a dark corner alone than have give them the satisfaction. So he decided to call his to be weapon maker and ask him to make a weapon that can hit from a very long distance without being dedicated. When asked why Roger explained how he wanted one of his sons to kill him sp he can pass peacefully.

Tears were shed and protests were screamed but in the end Buggy agreed to do it with the condition that he will not tell Shanks until he is old enough to understand. Buggy was confused but Roger knew unlike Buggy who understood and respected his captain’s choises , Shanks would probably continue to protest if not plan something to break Roger out of jail. So Roger wrote a letter to Shanks explaining the details of his deal with Buggy and how he is proud of him and wants them to make their dream of sailing together.

The day of the execution Shanks stands alone wondering where Buggy was. He didn’t see him since this morning. He was kind of understanding thinking Buggy can’t handle the sight of their dear captain dying but seeing Roger walk pass with shackles fueled him with anger not only at the people who put the Shackles but at Buggy for still not being here. He will deal with him later.

Roger told his speech everyone watched as the words rose high to decapitate him but the silence was deafening that everyone heard the distant shot but no one realized it was a bullet shot until they watched Roger’s head leak blood before he slumped to the ground.

Everyone stared in shock before breaking into screams and ducking down to protect themselves from any shot while others ran to the sea to set sail to the one piece. Leaving a red haired teenager staring in shock at the platform, watching as the small drops of what’s left of his captain’s blood fall. He didn’t know how long he sat there under the rain until Buggy showed up, he was calling him saying something he couldn’t understand when he tried to pull him along to somewhere Shanks snatched his hand away before pushing the blue hair almost causing him to fall.

He demanded to know where he was, yelling at him and cursing, demanding to know why wasn’t he here with him, that someone shot their captain, that they should go now to find the person who did it. Buggy being overwhelmed by what he had done, he was still registering that he had shot and killed one of his father figures he was walking aimlessly only waking up from his trance when he saw Shanks. His heart was still beating fast and his brain in shambles and Shanks’s attitude towards him didn’t help ease him.

But this was shanks, Shanks was his comfort, his other half, buggy would attempt to kill him and he would still smile at him and laugh, they grew up together, there was no red without blue and no blue without red. So he will understand right?

He was struck to the ground.

Buggy was in shock, he was on the ground, his face hurt why does his face hurt? When he brought his hand to his face he realized Shanks punched him and he was bleeding.

Shanks refused to listen to any excuse he had he even threw the letter at him refusing to read it, saying buggy probably forged it since he was so good at everything, that he was a great liar too. Buggy begged him to believe him swearing that captain Roger ordered him to kill him. But Shanks ignored him kicking Buggy away from him, saying how the next time they meet they will be enemies and he will ill kill him. Buggy did try to give Shanks space to calm down but after few days he saw him trying to sail away Buggy begged him not to leave him alone but Shanks slashed his cheek telling him how this was him fulfilling his promise that he made him bleed today but next time he will kill him, and before leaving he said how he contacted all the Roger pirates and they don’t want to see Buggy either that they were angry with him.

Buggy was in pain, afraid and alone totally alone.

As years passed Shanks would tell anyone who asks that Roger was back stabbed by one of his crew, and when buggy was discovered to be ones part of Roger’s men Shanks made it even more public that Buggy was the one who killed Roger that he was the anonymous sniper from that day.

And Buggy claims it proudly? He would agree with shanks every time he points it out “yes, I killed Roger. “ I made a weapon to snipe him from a far building” “the Marines were so stupid they didn’t know where the bullet came from”

When the news reached Rayleigh he was in shock because this was the first he hears of this, he hadn’t talked to any of his sons since Roger’s death. Thinking that they were sailing together somewhere or still on contact. So he ventures out to find Buggy to get informations from him. And when he gets there he called him with a smile, despite the rumors Rayleigh was happy to see how big and strong his son has become but was shocked at how Buggy looked at him with fear.

Buggy froze in his place and took a step back ready to use his henchmen to distract the dark king and run away from the blonde man seeing what’s coming he quick held his hand up.

“ I mean no harm, I come with nothing but the intentions of meeting, my son”

Hearing the old title almost made Buggy want to burst out in tear, but he refused to show such emotions in front of the amazed henchmen so after directing to his private office they sat together in silence that could be cut by a knife.

Buggy was thinking about all the reasons of why his father figure is sitting in front of him. Did he hear the rumors? Is he angry? Is he going to kill him???!!

On the other hand, Rayleigh was also was thinking of million questions to ask but he could only ask one.

“What happened that day, my boy?”

The sound of sincere compassion and worry in his voice was enough to make buggy’s smile instantly turn into a sad frown before breaking down and burst into heavy sobs. Years of bent up fear, anxiety, self loathing, loneliness and hatred coming out of him and Rayleigh instinctively ran to him and tried to hold as much of his son as he can into his arms. Buggy cried for hours and Rayleigh wanted to ask what happened? What did he do? How did he live his life? Why was he so broken?

And after Buggy took a small nap because crying exhausted him he reluctantly told Rayleigh what happened.

“He… he told you to kill him?”

“Yes, he also told me not to tell anyone but…I…”

“You told Shanks.” Rayleigh stated.

“I couldn’t keep it to myself, I thought that since me and him shared a lot of things together that I could share this secret with him…share a burden that I don’t have to carry alone… hehe…but he turned his back on me.”

“He didn’t believe you.”

“Not even when I swore to him on everything I hold dear and begged him not to let me go.” Buggy laughed bitterly as more tears escaped his eyes. “Can you believe I even begged to take me as a cabin boy on his ship just so I won’t be alone, ME, the great Buggy, still a Cabin boy how unflashy !”

“Then why do you keep silent about the truth? Why did you tell the world or anyone who would listen, not even me. Why did you defend yourself against Shanks?”

“…..because it makes shanks smile happily every time he paints me as Roger’s killer.”

Rayleigh had enough he decided to stay in cross guild to be Buggy’s personal therapist, to untangle all these trauma he had built up and also protecting him from Mihawk and Crocodile. He retrained him forcing him to bring out his hidden potential one of them is his Observation Haki and bringing back his passion for navigation.

When the news that Rayleigh joined the Cross guild it made Shanks confused. Why would Rayleigh join their captain’s murderer? He wanted to find the cross guild and confront them but he thought against it, he will cross paths sooner or later.

Rayleigh finally leaves and Buggy was more confident, his fightings abilities are better, his joy for flashy things are back and fuck what Shanks thinks or says. Yes he loved Shanks when they were younger, he was more than just his brother in arms, but despite all the years they spent together and knowing Buggy more than anyone he wished to believe that his partner was actually able to do something so coldly to the man they saw as a father to them.

So the next time they meet Shanks is back to his old antics to antagonize Buggy.

“I heard Rayleigh left your little circus group, probably didn’t want to be the next on your hit list like Captain.”

“Screw you.”

Shanks was taken it back because Buggy never talked back to him before.

“I did not kill captain Roger.” Shanks opened his mouth but Buggy was quicker “you shut your mouth until I’m done taking you blabbing child!”

Shanks was silenced.

“Yes I sniped Roger, only because he asked me to and you’re too coward to actually want to believe that he asked for it. Well, news flash Shanks Captain was sick you know it I know it and even though he gave himself to the marines he did not want to die by them, that’s why he asked me because he knew that if he included you in his plan you’d be too coward to go through with it even it was his last desired wish!! And that’s how you’re acting right now, like a coward who refuses to face the reality since day one that you’re willing to throw your brother who was ready to crown you king of the pirate himself away like trash and declaring him your worst enemy! Even though I never harmed you even ones!!”

Everyone who wa listening was in shock of the new information some even ran out to spread it.

“But I’m done babying you, face reality you red haired bastard Captain Roger wanted to die-“

Buggy didn’t finish his words as he found himself on the ground with blood surrounding him. Mihawk stood in front of him against someone even Crocodile summoned a sand storm to stop anyone who tried to intervene. And then he realized what happened….

Shanks slashed him.

Shanks so so angry by Buggy’s words that he wanted to silence him by any means necessary and instinctively he launched forward and draw his sword Buggy’s Haki moved his body to dodge the attack but it only prevented him from being dismembered but still caused a deep cut. Shanks covered his blade on Haki which helped actually to cut Buggy the holder of the chop chop fruit.

The buggy pirates were quick to aid their captain as his partner shielded him but it was only Mihawk who actually noticed how Shanks’s frame was shaking in shock and the look on his face told him that he was in disbelief of what he had just done, that he didn’t mean to do it. But he did do it he wanted to kill Buggy.

Not waiting for conflict the cross guild left to save Buggy’s life leaving a distraught Shanks who screamed at the top of his lungs when the realization of what he had done hit him.

He was angry with Buggy yes, he was devastated with Roger’s death that he needed someone to blame, he did make buggy’s life hell every time he saw him but that only because it made him cope with his feelings in some sick way maybe because deep down he knew no matter what Buggy would never hate him back because it was his Buggy, his blue. But to see him stand up to him like that and force him to face reality made Sahnks snap, and the blood…. There was so much blood….he almost killed Buggy.

After that day Shanks drowned himself in alcohol and made it his life mission to try and make it up to Buggy to bring him back into his life, which lead him to the level of obsession.

Buggy on the other hand, swore that Shanks will never return into his life even if it would upset Roger beyond the grave. He tried to kill him, Shanks was the first to cut him and succeed, which means he knows what he was doing. Now every time he stroke the scare left by the red hair it would remind Buggy that they are no longer partner but true enemies.

So starts this sick dance between with them.

[hammity-hammer]

thinking about steve going to cosmetology school and learning how to be an esthetician and cut hair, because nothing matters to him more than making sure other people take care of themselves and feel beautiful in their bodies

and eddie is an absolute little trash man who doesn’t know the first thing about skin care besides that he should probably wash his face with something other than his bar soap that he uses on his body, so he gets some cheap face wash that doesn’t have too many ingredients, but he’s still not 100% sure if it’s good or not. he doesn’t take care of his hair much, either, just washes it every few days (he does know the difference between shampoo and conditioner, and vaguely how to use them) and uses some random leave in conditioner spray he found that helps his curls stay,, curly. 

and eddie spends most of his time getting stabbed by his coworkers and friends, because he 1000% would at the least work in a tattoo shop, but probably would wanna stab people and help them look and feel cool as fuck

so one day steve decides he wants a cute little nose piercing, because robin got one recently and it looked cool on her, so why wouldn’t it look cool on him? plus, best friends do everything together, right??

he goes to the same shop rob went to, and sees one of the most beautiful people he’s ever laid eyes on, and then realizes that the man he’s been making googoo eyes at is definitely about to be the one to stab him, and holy fuck if that doesn’t make him so nervous he almost passes out

and when he’s sitting on the chair so eddie can mark his nose for the piercing, he gets a real up close look at him and realizes that his skin is fucking perfect, and being the little skin care nerd he is, he asks him about it

“oh uhh... i just kinda wash my face every few days when i feel like showering? not anything special..” eddie says, throwing him an awkward smile before he sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth and concentrates on getting his mark perfect.

“i think... this might be the best spot! take a look, don’t touch your nose please, and let me know if you want me to move it!” he tells steve as he steps back and gestures to the mirror next to them. 

steve checks his nose out in the mirror and nods, “yeah! i genuinely have no idea how it’s supposed to look, so i trust you.” he takes a moment to look at eddie again while he sets up the rest of his station, and makes sure his clamp has the right tightness. “are you for real that you only wash your face every few days..?”

“i mean.. i don’t know why i’d lie about that? i just... am real busy and haven’t ever really done anything else?” eddie shrugs, “if you’d please lay back, i’m just about ready to stick ya.” 

they finish the piercing, with steve barely bleeding, but crying quite a bit, and steve’s on his way with his cute little gem sticking out of his nostril. 

eddie definitely thinks that’s the last he’ll see of steve, even though he was so gorgeous and asked... odd? questions? but he guesses that seeing the pretty man at a beauty supply shop made sense, all things considering. steve doesn’t see him yet, because he’s bending over to pick items out of a box on the floor and put them on the shelves he’s stocking, and thank god he doesn’t because eddie really can’t stop a giant blush from spreading on his face. 

“uh.. excuse me.” he coughs awkwardly, trying extremely hard to keep his eyes off of steve’s ass. “i was wondering if you guys have any of this one face mask i like?” he asks, holding up an empty bottle of an old mask that he got for free from nancy forever ago.

“oh yeah! that’s just over here, it’s a really good mask!” steve says with a big smile, leading him over to the brand that it belongs to. “that one costs about... $30, but seeing as you stabbed me and definitely undercharged me, it’ll be on me.” he smiles, taking a box and starting to walk to the front counter.

“wh- how do you know i undercharged you? what if we just... do really cheap piercings?” eddie stutters, surprised that steve had even noticed. he definitely did undercharge him on account of being a total babe, but steve didn’t even have ear piercings, so how could he have known? they don’t keep their prices visible, and he just kind of gets to charge what he wants as long as he covers the jewelry and tool cost.

“i definitely don’t think normal shops charge $15 for a nose piercing, dude. plus, my best friend got her nose pierced by you a few weeks ago and you toootally charged her like.. $50 bucks.” steve grins, scanning the face mask and his employee card. “and i do so appreciate the cheap piercing, so just accept this as a thank you. and, maybe, let me buy you dinner this week?” he smiles, writing his number on a receipt and handing it to eddie.

“sure thing, stevie. lucky for you, flattery works on me. i’ll give you a call soon, sweetheart.” eddie blows him a kiss with a wink and walks off, his free face mask and steve’s number in his hand. 

[pepi1989]

Hi love ur amazing 🫶 English isn’t my first language so I hope this makes sense. can you write a long story about Laver Cup where for the first time, a WTP player can join for a mixed doubles and a women’s match? And reader is the WTP tennis player on team Europe, with banter and mock rivalry between Team World since she’s close with them as friends but obviously being on opposing team means they have rivalry? And then both teams sitting on one sofa on the last day, Ben and reader getting very close together and flirting and the bench can picks up some of it and they both get asked separately on their team press conference?

Don't worry honey, your English is very good! Loved this idea, let's make it like they didn't make Ben play every doubles game lol

Rivals, or Something Like That - Ben Shelton

I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, watching Alcaraz and Zverev take on Team World. The match is intense, but it’s not what’s keeping my mind occupied. Across the court, in their red and black jackets, Ben and Frances are sitting on the Team World bench, loudly cheering for their teammates. And, of course, they’re throwing comments my way. Because why wouldn’t they? It’s Ben.

“[Y/N], you better be ready for a beatdown!” Ben’s voice echoes across the court, catching me completely off guard. He grins that grin, the grin while Frances chuckles beside him. I roll my eyes, trying to focus on the match, but honestly, all I can think about is what kind of beatdown he’s talking about. In tennis, obviously. Right?

I glance over at Grigor, who’s sitting next to me on the bench, and he just raises his eyebrows at me like he knows exactly what’s going through my head. “Don’t let him get in your head, [Y/N],” Grigor says with a smirk. I’m about to respond when Frances chimes in from across the court. “Don’t worry, [Y/N], we’ll go easy on you. We don’t want to make you cry.”

Oh, it’s like that?

“You two better focus on your team losing,” I shoot back, trying to hide my smirk. But Ben doesn’t let up. “We’ll see who’s crying when we’re done with you,” Ben calls, his voice all teasing but with this weird tension underneath it. It’s just banter, right? That’s what we always do. Except now, I can’t stop thinking about how Ben keeps looking over at me in between matches. And why is it that, every time he does, my stomach feels like it’s doing somersaults?

When the time finally comes for my match, I’m paired with Dimitrov against Ben and Frances. Of course it’s Ben. Because why wouldn’t it be? The whole thing feels weirdly set up, but I push those thoughts aside and focus. The first few rallies are tight, every point fought for. Ben’s powerful serves are no joke, but I’m managing to keep up. Still, every time I look across the net, I catch him looking at me, like we’re in some secret tennis duel only the two of us understand.

At one point, I miss a volley, barely, and Ben doesn’t let it slide. “Nice try, [Y/N],” he says with that smirk that’s becoming a little too familiar. “Need me to show you how it’s done?” Please. “Only if you want to lose faster,” I snap back, my heart racing, and not just because of the game.

But then Frances, being Frances, decides to make it even weirder. “Why don’t you two just get it over with already? You’ve been flirting all day.” I nearly choke on air. Excuse me? Ben just laughs, but the heat rushing to my face is undeniable. I shoot a glare at Frances, who is absolutely not helping. “Focus on the game, Frances,” I mumble, hoping no one else noticed. But, of course, everyone noticed.

After the match, we all end up backstage, completely exhausted. There’s this giant sofa that’s supposed to fit everyone, but honestly, it’s a miracle we’re not all on top of each other. And, because the universe has a sense of humor, I end up squished between Ben and Alcaraz. “Comfortable?” Ben asks, his voice a little too close for comfort as his leg presses up against mine. We’re basically sharing half the same cushion at this point, and I swear I can feel the warmth of his arm next to mine.

I don’t look at him, instead keeping my eyes on the ceiling, like that’s the most interesting thing in the world right now. “Oh yeah, super comfortable,” I deadpan, shifting slightly, but somehow, we end up even closer. The banter doesn’t stop, but now it’s all weirdly charged. I catch Ben’s grin out of the corner of my eye, and Frances, of course, just can’t let us be. “You two should really get your own sofa,” he mutters, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

I want to disappear. Is it that obvious? Ben just shrugs, leaning in a little more. “Hey, I’m not the one complaining.” At this point, Alcaraz and the rest of Team Europe are trying to stifle their laughter, but it’s no use. Everyone is in on the joke. Even Taylor Fritz from the other side of the room calls out, “Are you guys sure you’re on opposite teams? Because it doesn’t look like it.” “I’m about to switch teams if you keep this up,” I mutter under my breath, trying to ignore the fact that my face is probably bright red by now. Ben just smirks. “Don’t worry, [Y/N]. I’ve got room on Team World for you.”

What does that even mean?

The next day, we’ve won, and I’m sitting at the post-match press conference, trying to act like everything is normal. Except it’s not. Because the press? They’ve noticed everything. “So, [Y/N],” one journalist starts, and I can already tell this is going to be bad. “There’s been a lot of talk about your interactions with Ben Shelton during the tournament. Care to comment?”

I feel my face heat up, and my teammates are no help, stifling their laughter beside me. Dimitrov is the worst offender, elbowing me like he can’t wait to hear my answer. “We’re just friends,” I say, trying to play it off cool. But honestly, it sounds a lot less convincing than I wanted it to. The journalist presses on. “It seemed like there was a bit more than just friendly competition on that sofa yesterday.”

I hear someone, probably Zverev, laugh softly beside me. I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. “Look, we were just… you know, teammates… on opposing teams…” What am I even saying?

Meanwhile, across the room, Ben’s handling his own press conference, and of course, they’re asking him about the exact same thing. “Ben, there seemed to be some extra chemistry between you and [Y/N] during the tournament. Can you tell us what’s going on there?”

I’m watching from the screen backstage, my face burning as I wait for his answer. Ben just grins, leaning into the mic like this is the most natural question in the world. “Oh, we’re just having a little fun,” he says, clearly enjoying this way too much. “She’s a great competitor, no more than that.” But then he glances at the camera, and I swear he winks. “You’ll have to keep watching, though. Who knows what might happen next?”

[ladykailitha]

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 5

Welp, fuck. Yeah this is going to be six parts now. This story just doesn’t know how to end itself so I’m putting the cutting point here and then finish the rest with BBQ idea.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

*

The remaining trio arrived after dinner. Jonathan, El, and Will had stayed over, order pizza.

“California really does have the superior pizza,” Jonathan hummed around his slice.

Steve scoffed. “Even better than Chicago? You’re crazy, man.”

“That isn’t pizza,” Jonathan argued. “That’s an open calzone.”

Will snickered as El cocked her head to the side as she tried to puzzle it out.

The doorbell rang and Steve wiped his hands on his jeans as he stood up to get it.

He opened the door to reveal Eddie with Lucas, Erica, and Max.

“Look what I found skulking around my place,” Eddie said proudly.

Lucas and Max looked at each other as Erica rolled her eyes.

“We figured that you would be over at Eddie’s,” Lucas explained quietly.

Steve shrugged. “I probably would have been if Dustin, Nancy and Mike didn’t stop by earlier.”

“Damn,” Max cursed. “I hoping to beat Dustin.”

Erica rolled her eyes again. “Can we get this over with?”

Steve just shook his head. “Me and Will and them are just finishing up dinner.”

Lucas frowned. “Will’s here?”

Steve smiled and then turned to lead them back to the kitchen. “Apparently Team Steve decided that they were going to monitor each apology to make sure they were actually apologies and not just excuses.”

“Wait, really?” Erica asked.

They entered the kitchen and Steve called out, “Look what Eddie dragged in.”

Eddie grinned.

“Come have pizza!” El said. “There’s plenty for everyone. Steve likes to get a lot.”

“That’s because I know that I will have people grazing the leftovers for the next couple days and I won’t accidentally get eaten out of house and home.”

El giggled.

They all settled down to eat. Happily chatting and laughing as they consumed all of the pizza.

Once everything was cleared away Will asked. “All right who’s first?”

Max and Lucas exchanged a glance.

“Um...” Lucas said.

“Because we did our shovel talk together, can we do our apology together?” Max asked.

Jonathan furrowed his brow. “I think that’s up to Steve.”

“I’m down if you guys are okay with that,” Steve said to everyone else.

There was nodding all around.

“I’ll handle this set,” Eddie said, “if you want to stand guard?”

Jonathan and Will nodded, but El shook her head. “I’m staying. I haven’t got to do one yet. You can chose to stay if you want, but I’m not moving.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie said. “How about this, we double team with Max and Lucas and then I can do Erica?”

El tilted her head to the side as she thought about it. “Agreed.”

Erica threw her arms in the air and left with the Byers boys.

“Is there a reason you have monitors?” Max asked once they had gone.

Steve laughed. “Apparently they think I let you guys get away with too much shit and wanted to make sure that didn’t happen with these apologies.”

Eddie grinned at them.

“Right...” Lucas said slowly, nodding his head. “So it started out as a joke...”

Steve held up his hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. No it didn’t. I don’t care if that’s what you thought. It did not start out as a joke. I will not take ‘it was a joke’ as an excuse. Because it’s starting to sound like you guys knew that other people were giving me the shovel talk and wanted to do it too. And if that is that case, I’m done.”

Eddie let out a low whistle. “I don’t know, Supergirl. I think our Stevie is going to be just fine.”

She giggled again. “Maybe, but I want to stay for the verbal beat down, don’t you?”

Eddie tilted his head and looked up. He pursed his lips and nodded. “No, no, you’re right. Should we get popcorn?”

Steve laughed.

Max bit her lip. “We knew Mike and Erica had done it,” she admitted. “But we didn’t know about anyone else we swear! Ten is too fucking much.”

“That’s good to hear, I guess,” Steve said. “But seriously, a joke? Shovel talks aren’t funny. Not the first time and definitely not the tenth.”

Eddie frowned. “Who was the first?”

Steve cocked his head to the side and leaned against the counter. “Mike.”

Everyone boggled at Steve.

“Mike was the first?” Lucas asked.

Steve shrugged. “It’s why I believed him when he said he had been joking. Because no one else had done it at that point.”

“Were there other people between Erica and Mike,” Max asked, “and us?”

Steve folded his arms and nodded.

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas said. “Yeah, I get not accepting ours as a joke at that point.”

Max nodded. “We are sorry, Steve. I understand that saying we didn’t know won’t cut it, but we really didn’t know. We also...” she looked over at Lucas and blushed. “We also thought that Eddie was getting them, too.”

Lucas nodded. “Like we thought Dustin and Robin for sure would have given Eddie the shovel talk. But when we found out that no one had? That really put the nail in the coffin for all this.” He hung his head. “We’re really sorry, man.”

“Yeah,” Max agreed. “We should have known better about the shovel talk to begin with. I wouldn’t want one and I wouldn’t want Lucas to get one either. Our relationship is no one else’s business. And getting into yours and Eddie’s business was wrong. We’re sorry.”

Steve sighed and glanced at El and Eddie to see if it was good enough. They both nodded. “Okay, I accept your apology. Especially since it seems like you learned your lesson. And if you do something like that to someone else, make sure they know it’s a joke. Because I sure the hell didn’t.”

They both winced and then nodded.

Lucas came up and gave Steve a hug. “We’ll try to be better friends too,” he whispered. Steve nodded.

He walked out and Max stood there for a moment. She looked at Eddie and El for a moment before she launched herself at Steve. He caught her and held her tight.

“You’re the big brother I always dreamed of,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too, Max.”

When she pulled away, she wiped her face. El held out her hand and Max took it.

“Come on,” El said gently. “Let’s go wash your face before we go back out to the boys.”

Max nodded gratefully and let herself be led away.

Erica came in a couple minutes later and sat down at the counter and stared both of them down. But when Eddie and Steve didn’t back down, she nodded.

“Good,” she said. “I don’t deal with bitches.”

Eddie scoffed. “Does your mother know you kiss her with that dirty mouth?”

Erica batted her eyelashes. “My mother thinks I’m an angel.”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “Because of course she does.”

“I still haven’t heard an apology,” Steve said after a moment.

“You aren’t going to get one,” Erica said primly. “What you are going to get is why Steve and not Eddie that got the shovel talk.”

Eddie and Steve shared a confused glance.

“Come again?” Eddie asked.

Erica shrugged. “I mean I’m sorry everyone else had sticks up their ass, but I’m not sorry I gave Steve the shovel talk. He’s the badass of the pair of you and needs to know that I will defend my DM to the death if required.”

Steve ran his tongue over his lips and rolled his eyes. “So what I’m hearing is that you think I’m too badass to be protected?”

“Duh,” she said. “I’ve seen you in action. This little bitch nearly died.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he tilted his head forward. “Excuse me?”

“You clearly need to be protected from dying again,” Erica said.

“And why can’t I be the one protecting him?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow.

Erica paused for a moment. “You know, I didn’t think of it like that.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “No, are you absolutely right. I commend you to service in defending Eddie the Banished. Don’t fuck it up.”

She hopped off the barstool and walked out.

“Does–does that count as an apology?” Eddie asked more than a little stunned.

Steve jutted out his bottom lip and nodded. “Coming from her? Yeah.”

Eddie nodded back. “Sounds about right. She certainly is something.”

“I fear for any boy that tries to break her heart,” Steve said. “She’ll break their knees.”

“Provided anyone can find the body,” Eddie agreed.

***

Part Six

Tag List: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @telidina @stevesbipanic @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @jonesn4coffee @resident-gay-bitch @obliosworld @croatoan-like-its-hot @evix-syne666 @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @bookworm0690

[kirkenovak]

I’ve watched the Dungeons and Dragons movie too many times for it to be healthy and I decided to make it everyone else’s problem.

Honor Among Thieves/Dreamling crossover?

The Endless exist in the DnD setting but they don’t concern themselves with the affairs of gods and mortals, they just ARE. They exist outside the planes and influence all of them, albeit in different ways. They aren’t worshipped and usually aren’t well known.

Dream and Death do their visit to the mortal realm and meet Hob Gadling, Dream and Death have their bet and Hob becomes immortal. Now, in the DnD, unnaturally long lives aren’t that unheard of. There are elves who had already been adults when Hob became immortal, who are still alive. Arguably, Hob could pass himself off as a weird half-elf hybrid and no one would be too surprised he’s been knocking about for several centuries. But a human that not only lives long but doesn’t die? At all? No matter the manner of death, no matter the damage done to him, he just gets up again and keeps on trucking? No. That’s not normal. That shit’s weeeeeird. You don’t want to be advertising that unless you want every evil wizard warlock lich sorcerer and whathaveyou knocking on your door. So Hob still has to hide.

He of course still meets Dream every 100 years in the inn (every paladin and cleric with divine sense in the area does a little >_>). He still pretends to be his own son. He still does hundreds of different things. He still has a fight with Dream that causes Dream to walk out on him. He still buys the White Horse and waits for Dream. Dream is still captured by Burgess, a mighty wizard who really REALLY wants to conquer death but doesn’t want to be an undead because yuck.

Meanwhile, Xenk Yendar has met Hob in his travels several times already and is absolutely not buying the “I’m his son, I’m the son’s son, I’m the son’s grandson” excuse but Hob seems harmless, commits no evil acts (that Xenk knows of *coughscoughs*) and doesn’t register as anything otherworldly or undead so Xenk leaves him alone. That is until he walks into The White Horse one day, sees Hob for the first time in years and immediately senses that this is a temple, the land is consecrated, this man is the priest. The problem? A priest of what exactly? Normally it’s not really his business but given that Hob is a bit shady to begin with, it just doesn’t seem right. He asks Edgin for help, after all, who better to charm and swindle his way into Hob’s good graces and get some answers than a professional conman/thief/ex-Harper/bard who just doesn’t do magic, no seriously, what’s the deal with that.

This is where Ilmater decides to intervene. Sure, normally he wouldn’t stick his Devine nose in the matters on the Endless but he is the god of suffering, and both Dream and Hob are suffering, albeit in different ways. He sends his favourite paladin a vision of Dream and Hob, who then confines in Edgin and his crew and so, the DnD version of the fishbowl heist is born!

Starring: Xenk, the hottest paladin in existence; Edgin the spell-less bard; Edgin’s barely concealed lust for Xenk; Doric the most OP wildshape in existence; Simon the Sorcerer (no not the game, the game is great tho. Available on iOS. Try it. Starring Chris Barrie of the Red Dwarf fame as the voice of Simon. It has a sequel too tho not as good); Hob Gadling, the immortal but he can’t reveal he’s immortal and also has no idea who Dream is or what his true nature or even name is… wow he’s kinda useless in this setting and nobody trusts him; and Holga the carrying everything on her broad shoulders.

[blastaway2004]

As someone who really likes both A:TLA and The Dragon Prince, this take infuriates me so much because, I love both Aang and Ezran for different reasons:

“Watched season 6 of TDP recently and Ezran is a much better character than Aang.

Ezran is a kid too and he tends to be naive.

But where ATLA uses Aang's age as an excuse for his actions, TDP stresses that while Ezran is young, that's not a reason for him to never take responsibility. That's not a reason for him to cling to the past and never move forward. He needs to grow up and face chal-lenges.

I also feel like Ezran's vision of peace and Aang's vision of peace are very different.

Aang tries to push his own ideals on other people, and gets frustrated when they don't agree. But Ezran understands and acknowledges that people are in pain. He knows peace doesn't come easy which is why he uses his position to take the first steps.

And to be honest, Ezran just had more growth”.

People who say this stuff are morons with no media-literacy. And yes, they ship Zutara.

I’m sorry, but I’ve never seen The Dragon Prince. But I have heard it’s good, made by Aaron Ehasz and Sokka voices the main character. So I can’t really comment on Ezran, but as for Aang…

OP blatantly lies about Aang and just doesn’t understand or remember his character. For one the show NEVER uses his age as an excuse for his actions. His age is only really brought up in the context that he has so much pressure thrust upon him as the Avatar, something no 12 year old should be put through.

Aang is genuinely a kindhearted person, but whenever he does do something wrong, he’s either called out for it, apologizes or at the very least realizes his mistake. When he hides the letter from Hakoda, Sokka is pissed and Katara is disappointed, Aang doesn’t try to justify what he did, he knows it was wrong and accepts the consequences. When he burns Katara he swears off firebending, he feels remorse over giving into negativity and hatred when Appa was stolen and bottles up his emotions. In EIP he clearly realizes kissing Katara was stupid and the latter is rightfully annoyed.

The whole point of the show is Aang taking responsibility and actively seeking to save the world, which he does. He grows up and faces many challenges, in The Storm, he says

“I’m done dwelling on the past. I can't make guesses about what would have turned out if I hadn't run away. I'm here now and I'm going to make the most out of it”.

That’s precisely what Aang does during the series.

“Aang tries to push his own ideals on other people, and gets frustrated when they don't agree. But Ezran understands and acknowledges that people are in pain. He knows peace doesn't come easy which is why he uses his position to take the first steps.”

I am so sick of this notion that Aang tries to push his ideas on people. I know what episode they’re referring to, and Aang never tried to force his ideals on Katara. He actively acknowledges that Katara is in pain.

“Wait! Stop! I do understand. You're feeling unbelievable pain and rage. How do think I felt about the sandbenders when they stole Appa? How do you think I felt about the Fire Nation when I found out what happened to my people?”

He knows that peace doesn’t come easy, he urges Katara to face the killer, she doesn’t forgive him like Aang expected her to, but Aang takes no issue with this, he’s just proud she didn’t give into her hatred and chose to forgive Zuko, who need I mention, Aang had taken the first step by offering him friendship and saving his life.

The thing is, I and many other don’t take issue with criticism regarding Aang, for example I wish he was shown apologizing to Katara in EIP and I wish his conflict about killing Ozai was set up earlier. All Anti-Aang criticisms essentially have no merit to them, this one in particular actively fails to understand character and makes up elements that were never at play, the stuff they say Aang didn’t do, he actually did, you’d have to be blind not to notice.

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter one

"that's mikey's girl." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn chapter one, 3.2k words

two in the morning. he's on his stomach with moonlight fall through the window on his bare shoulders, the arch of his thick dark hair hiding his eyes in shadow. not even a gleam.

why do you keep calling me that? he says. used to be every now and then, like a joke, but now it’s just all the time.

it’s your name.

mikey’s my name.

michael’s on your birth certificate. that makes it your name.

everyone calls me mikey.

you lift an empty palm. and?

oh my god, don’t be so fucking mysterious, come here. c’mere. his hand's on your hip, clumsy. hey. talk to me. 

let it go, michael. 

when sweetness doesn’t get him what he wants, he reaches inside and produces more energy from god knows where.

don’t you ever get tired of being so goddamn mysterious? don’t you get fucking exhausted? from wheedling to kindling, you never tell me anything, just tell me one thing, okay? just one thing, what’s the big deal, straight shooter? huh? c’mere, hey. oh, now you’re not looking at me now? like what am i, a cop? i’m just fuckin curious, man, it’s my name, and if you’re—

okay! fuck! just. fucking calm down, i’ll tell you. i’ll tell you.

i am calm. he is. ruffled, but calm. he’s clean tonight, you can always tell the difference.

everyone calls you mikey. 

he turns over onto his back and lets the light reach everywhere. doesn't have to say a thing. his face is deceptively open, waiting, the full weight of his attention on you, and that's more than enough.

you say, maybe i don’t want to be everyone.

his face melts into that expression you love and hate in nearly equal measure, a little pitying, a little tender, completely fucking magnetic. he stretches out one arm across the tops of both pillows in mute invitation, and you know that you’ll crawl into his arms in a second, give in the way you always do.

oh, baby, he says. you’re not everyone.

yeah?

you've never been closer to him than you are right now, with all the red lights sped through a long ways back, and yet. and yet. you still can't read him. maybe you never will.

you say, then who am i?

.

.

.

when you go to the beef for the first time, you set yourself some rules. first off, don't talk to the staff. don't talk to the staff. don't talk to the fucking staff.

don’t stare.

don’t say his name.

and as soon as you get your sandwich, you gotta go.

there’s rules. that’s your excuse for breaking your promise: if you act like any other customer, what harm can it do?

well, this.

you’ve done a decent job of pretending you don't know enough english to converse, but you’re still trying so hard not to look at carmy standing behind the counter that you let your gaze drift, go unfocused, as you anchor yourself by two fingertips barely grazing the counter. waiting for your mortadella like all the other schmucks. suddenly, your drift snags on a sound, a certain note in the voice of the guy behind you, and you turn before you have any idea what it is. your heart jumps. of course he’s got a gun, of course he fucking does, and carmy’s trying to calm him with shouting and everything else just happens. 

you wedge yourself between the guy and the counter don’t you fucking touch him back the fuck up at least the crowd’s smart enough to scatter or hit the floor and you smack the inside of his wrist knock the gun to the side where at least the only ones who could suffer would be the wall or you. bang, stupid loud. flinch. the picture frame on the wall right behind you shatters and falls, sting in your arm don’t touch him but one more twist and the gun is yours now and the guy is running, running, gone. which makes you just a person getting gawked at by strangers while your mouth is running behind. don’t you fucking —

you thought you forgot how to get scared a long time ago, but that’s obviously not true. you notice it as you pop the magazine and shake them out with a metallic tinkle in your hand, then pull the slide to clear the chamber too. yeah, you're scared.

the bullets are slippery in your sweating palm, and it's early chicago fall and no enemies left, nothing to sweat about. you slip bullets in your pocket, don’t want to give anyone a loaded gun, especially not a fucking berzatto. the shop hasn't cleared, it's louder than ever, and you're not looking at anybody, just the gun, mind on autopilot. somebody's asking you if you're okay and you're pointedly ignoring them. you say, gimme the trash can, carmy.

he does.

do i know you? he says.

the gun lands in the trash with a thud, and only then do you realize your mistake. you can’t even look at him as your stomach drops. you just fucked it for yourself. this is gonna be the last time. you turn and try to leave quick as the line re-forms beside you. chicago, god bless, still wants their fucking lunch. what happened to the rules protecting you? what happened to—

she’s bleeding, don’t let her—

it’s richie who gets to you first, which is somehow worst of all. you don’t know how he does it, you were nearly home free, but now he's right here and you’re still not looking at him as his hand closes around your good arm. you’re not looking at him but you recognize the voice, matched it to his face on your first visit to the beef. the face you matched to many photos you've seen, most of them blurry.

hey, sweetheart, let’s just—

and that’s what breaks it for you. you lift your eyes and look at him dead on and bullshit with the ferocity you only get when you’re in the middle of losing something. you don’t want any of this asshole did you think i learned to disarm a guy in kindergarten what the fuck do you think is going on here unless you want this place to be fucking mob associated then get your hands off me wasn’t the c enough or do you really need cops up your ass too—

richie’s not as stupid as he needs to be, or he’s not as smart. 

sure, yeah, he says. that’s very impressive and shit but we’re already kind of a mob joint, we owe a guy three hundred grand off book and that’s not even a joke, this is chicago, baby, and you’re bleeding. just come over here and don’t be a pain about it—i got it carm—don’t be such a fucking pain, come on.

it’s the voice that does it, and not the way he’s manhandling you back into the kitchen, it’s not the same but it’s a cousin and you just really fucking missed this shit. even though your heartbeat has slowed, you’re still dangerously stuck in that place where it might rain any moment. 

you’re still fighting him but it isn’t much, kind of autopilot, run on. it’s fucking nothing don’t be a baby what do you think this is i’m not gonna die i’m not even gonna go to the hospital richie it’s like a couple pieces of glass who cares plus the cops are gonna show up and then what. 

in the kitchen you look around hungrily. this is the place. those are the stoves, the knives, that’s the fucking mop and all. feels wobbly. you’re not used to being sentimental.

i mean jesus i just wanted a fucking sandwich, you say.

we can make you a fucking sandwich.

well i don’t want it any more!

what is your fucking problem, richie says, but he doesn’t say it right. 

here’s the office door, here’s the office, here are the piles of paperwork that used to be the bane of his existence. god but you’re weak. and as richie reaches for a first aid kit hanging from a nail above the filing cabinet, you give in one last time and steal a photo that was taped just above the desk. swift swipe. first crime you’ve felt bad about in a long time, and also the first crime that’s felt necessary.

i don’t want a fucking sandwich, you say, without skipping a beat.

fine, richie says with the air of a martyr. sit down.

he all but shoves you onto a chair. you let him, but you’re not gracious about it either. you have to resist touching your back jeans pocket where you slid the photo in, to check that it’s still there.

ebrahim’s at the door now, bearing the first aid kit.

give me that and get me a trash can and both of your fuck off, you say, and you only get three out of the four things you asked for, go figure. richie stays.

you shouldn’t even be here, so you rush it, snap open the kit, go for the tweezers, pinch the first shard and yank it out with a wince.

richie, gore might be your top pornhub category but i don't see you tipping my onlyfans, so fuck the fuck off.

words having failed, you try ignoring him, but even once all the glass is out, he hasn’t fucked off. seriously, stop hovering, you say.

do i know you? he says, but not like a proper question. like he’s on the verge of making it a statement.

no you don’t, i’m just one very observant motherfucker. now fuck off, don’t you have salami to slice or some shit?

you’d straight up flee, leave it all behind, except now there’s carmy in the doorway running his hand through his mess of hair with those wide eyes, richie standing behind him, and god yeah you do see it. how could carmy ever be anything other than a kid brother?

you okay? carmy says.

it’s not like a scratch, it’s literally a scratch. it’s literally a scratch.

no, i mean. you know. he’s struggling for it, and bless him but you’re not helping him, not one bit. that is not your job.

richie says, if you’re fine, then why are you such a fucking creep, man. why do you know our names.

carmy smacks him without looking, back of his hand to richie’s chest. what we mean to say is thank you. thank you, and do you want peppers on y—

and that’s when he sees it, over your shoulder, the empty spot over the desk. 

the regret crashes into you so hard and immediate you think you might be sick. you never should have come.

carmy says, slowly, did you take mikey? and there it is. you think with a slice of biting clarity that this is probably why he never wanted you to come here, he probably saw this one coming from miles and years away. you had one job. you fucked it.

sorry, you mutter, and you take the photo out and put it on the desk, one last look, and then you’re dodging them on the way out. you’d have shoved, but carmy just stepped aside as you charged forward, too taken aback to fight, just as innocent as ever. 

but then there’s richie right behind you and he was never innocent. 

you’re charlie, aren’t you, says richie.

as you try to navigate through the kitchen whirlwind, you can feel it behind your breastbone, like a detonation. that old game, that old thing. charlie and tommy, secret agents. 

no, you say, too quick.

no but you fucking are, and there’s a note of triumph in it, he’s sure of it now, you can’t convince him otherwise. still keep trying, though.

that’s not my name, is just, how do i—how do you work here the place is a fucking maze i just want the door for crying out loud thank you marcus jesus christ.

behind you: who’s charlie?

that’s mikey’s girl.

fresh chicago air which means grimy smoke and wind and you’re in it and you’re gone, hands shoved deep in your pockets, bullets cool against your fingers. thank fucking god. just soon enough to not hear what carmy has to say about it. escape means you’ll never know. 

.

.

.

it’s a real short story: you were two fucked up people with two fucked up lives and even worse sleep schedules. you liked smoking at the same spot, sheltered from the wind by a crevice of the apartment building where you both lived. talking shit. one thing led to another. he was good with your rules and you were good with his lack of anything to bring you except, occasionally, himself. and that was it. you liked that story. it was a good one. simple. very nearly clean.

unfortunately, it’s made you incredibly easy to track down.

when you come down for your nighttime smoke, half-hoping you won’t get called that night, half-hoping you will, there he is, waiting for you outside the double doors: richie.

at the sight of him, you try to retreat, but he's still got a key card, must've been a spare that mikey gave him. he yells at you, stupid loud for the time of night, HEY, and holds up the picture. he really can’t be the stupidest man in the world, not quite, because that bait you'd always fall for no matter the gleam of the hook. 

wordlessly, you come back and you take the picture from him. you look at it for only a second before you realize you can't look at it anymore, not in front of him, so you just hold it in your hand, careful. the only photo of michael that you have, and a good one. he’s got a big grin in it, the classic, perfect, flop-haired and glowing.

my name's not charlie, you say.

yeah. you're a big top secret whatever whatever booty call, i get it, he says.

you can’t even muster the words to respond to that because everything feels too embarrassingly much, or too inadequately little. you just burn.

look, richie says, with what you might think is a pang of actual conscience if you haven't heard so much about him already. carmy just thought you would want the thing.

i do. there's a pause. neither of you quite expected you to say that, and neither of you quite expect you to say what comes next, either. or at least, not this simple. thank you.

i could text you some more if you want, he says after a second. not cool with silence, this one.

you shake your head. i cycle through old ass flip phones. because. you shrug and you make no effort at your lies. i'm just very clumsy and i tend to drop them and break them like once every two weeks, so there's no point in buying anything expensive.

uh-huh, he says dryly. makes sense.

the corner of your mouth lifts, and then you look away, willing him to fuck off your mind to fade out, or both. it doesn’t happen. he almost says something more than once, you can feel it, but whatever inside him hates silence, that thing isn’t as strong as his fear of saying whatever he’s got to say.

and your fear, it turns out, is not enough.

it's not my fault, you know? and now you're zero to a hundred, outright. why he...i mean, we broke up two months beforehand. so, like. i know you're all. i know everyone thinks.

and now richie’s still looking at you while you're talking, same as before, but there's a weight to his eyes on you that you don't quite want to squirm out from under. he's actually listening. that's the thing.

just, whatever it was, it wasn't me, you say.

there's a silence long enough that it starts to get bad, and then richie says, we never thought it was you.

what can you say to that? it's not believable but he's trying to be kind, so okay, you'll believe his blatant lies like he tacitly agreed to believe yours. it’s the type of kindness you give to a child and it sticks in your throat, but you force yourself to swallow. good manners.

you want to say thank you again, but you can't. you're not gonna thank him twice like some kind of asshole.

so you just look at him for a second, really and properly. he is michael, he's a piece of michael, he's a thousand stupid stories you both laughed over under streetlights for a couple years, annoyed and hated and felt for from afar. his hair is lighter than you expected and his eyes are bluer, he's a little shorter and there's a tiny mustard stain on the neckline of his navy shirt. this is it. another piece of the endless ending.

see you around, you say, when what you mean is the opposite.

but then he says, yeah, and you thought that was just a word, but you were wrong.

.

.

.

you were wrong and it’s actually really funny.

cause of course you go upstairs and you have your little whatever-you-call-it, up there with that picture, and then some leftover mac n cheese and the picture and the knowledge you can’t fall asleep, and the picture and going back downstairs because after all that a cigarette just makes sense.

motherfucker is chain-smoking in your spot. at least he has the grace to look vaguely embarrassed to still be there when you arrive.

jesus, you say, looking at the little heap on the flat-headed metal post that serves as the unofficial building ashtray. you’ve done worse than that, but that’s not gonna stop you from saying it.

ah, fuck off, he says in welcome, and then you pull out a pack and he pulls out his lighter. you, uh. you see the bulls the other night?

can we not talk? you say as the lighter goes click, withholding your cigarette like he'd give a damn.

he blinks, pauses.

yeah, he says. you hate the sound of his voice. it’s too raw weary, like he just came out the funeral wearing a borrowed suit. yeah, we can not talk.

only then do you let him light the cigarette.

no words after that, as promised. you’re very tired. he might be even more tired than you. you lean against the building, but he won’t do even that. every now and then, you look at him, and rarely—just a few times—you see that he’s glancing at you. but you always look away. at some point you become convinced that he’s gonna say something, or you are—something about the eyes—but weirdly that fear drains away after a bit and you’re back to comfortable silence, which feels different even if it sounds the same. 

he runs out of cigarettes pretty early on, but you’re so self-absorbed that it takes you a while to figure out that he’s not gonna leave. he’s just not. so you’re gonna have to be the one to do it. 

you push off the wall. night, fuck-o.

he laughs, and that’s it, that’s all, just a laugh, ragged at the edges. but you won’t forget it. 

come to find out, neither will he.

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[ chapter two ] [ the bear masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

[ilongfor-the-arts]

This idea came to me as I was watching Below Deck! Carmy as a yacht chef and reader is the chief stew. Enemies to lovers vibes!

Below Deck

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem! Reader

Warnings: language, semi public kissing, angst

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 3.1k

“Alright chef, what do we have here?”

I inquired, my eyes glazing over the vast array of delectable dishes.

“We’ve made kobe steaks with a demi-glace. And creamy pesto shrimp.”

I nodded.

“Hm. Looks good.”

I twisted my head to meet Carmen's gaze, hands on my hips. Carmen and I hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye throughout the duration of our employment on this yacht. However, I am impressed with his efforts thus far. I can only hope and pray that he does not give me an excuse to become irritated.

“What are you thinking of making for the vegetarian option?”

Carmen cocked an eyebrow.

“The pesto shrimp.”

There you have it. He just gave me a reason to be annoyed.

“Carmen, shrimp isn’t vegetarian.”

He furrowed his brow.

“Nah, shrimp is vegetarian.”

My face grew hot with rage.

“Carmen, shrimp is pescatarian!”

Carmen cocked an eyebrow. My jaw dropped. Was he being serious?

“Oh. My. God.”

I rubbed my eyes. My day has already been challenging. The last thing I needed was for this moron to ruin the excellent system I had set up.

“Carmen, we have close to fifty guests on this yacht that don’t eat meat or fish!”

I looked at my watch. My jaw dropped. Time was ticking away, and dinner for fifty guests had yet to be prepared.

“Shit. Dinner is supposed to be served in 45 minutes.”

I muttered under my breath. I wiped my brow with my hand, trying to keep my cool in front of his kitchen staff. If we were alone, he would feel the full force of my rage.

“You need to make a completely new dish with no meat and no shellfish in 45 minutes.”

Carmen's eyes narrowed. He had absolutely no reason to be upset with me. It is not my fault that he does not understand the distinction between a pescatarian and a vegetarian..

“I don’t know if I-”

“Carmen.”

I said sternly, cutting him off.

“You screwed up, and now you have to fix this. I expect fifty plates of a brand new vegetarian dish in 45 minutes. I don’t care how the hell you get it done, but it needs to be done, and it needs to taste amazing.”

Carmen gritted his teeth.

“Yknow, Y/N, I’m getting real sick of this fuckin’ shit.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“Sick of what shit?! You messed up, not me! It’s not my fault you’re a complete idiot who doesn’t know the difference between a pescatarian and a vegetarian!”

Carmen took a step forward, decreasing the gap between us.

“Not just this, you’ve been out to fuckin’ get me the entire time I’ve been on this goddamn boat! I’m sick of your attitude, and I’m sick of you praying for my fuckin’ downfall!”

He repeatedly thrust his finger at me, emphasizing his exasperation. I stood my ground, not faltering.

"Look," I said, moving in closer to whisper. The soft clanging of pots and pans stopped as the majority of the kitchen staff listened intently to our conversation.

“I’m sorry that I won’t sit here and kiss your ass. You’ve been screwing up. When you do things, you do them extremely well. But you need to learn how to listen. I won’t pretend you’re amazing if you’re not.”

Carmen's tough exterior had cracked just enough to show his discomfort.

“I am not praying for your downfall, but if you don’t start listening, I won’t hesitate to find someone else.”

Carmen sighed with aggravation.

“You’re a royal fucking bitch, y’know that?”

I waved my hand through the air, dismissing his previous comment.

“You can think I’m a bitch all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that we need fifty vegetarian dishes in-”

I checked my watch.

“40 minutes. If I were you, I’d stop wasting time and get cooking, alright? I’m not gonna sit here and let you make me look bad.”

Carmen locked his gaze on mine. The tension in the air was palpable. This was a competition. A competition I was most definitely not losing. He held my gaze. Time passed at an agonizingly slow pace. But I was not fazed. He eventually realized the jig was up. Carmen sighed deeply, his gaze rapidly shifting away from mine.

“Alright chefs!”

He called out to his staff.

“We need fifty vegetarian dishes in the next forty minutes. I wanna hear some ideas and see some seriously good shit being made!”

I smiled, pleased that I had won the battle. I stepped onto the deck, ready to greet the yacht's numerous guests. The rest of the day was a blur.

The number of times I heard, "Y/N, have you done this yet?"

“Y/N, I need this done right now!”

“Y/N, I need this.”

“Y/N, I need that!”

“Y/N, where’s the owner?”

By the end of the day, my head felt like it was going to explode. I had heard my name so frequently that by the time I was given a break, it irritated me.

I found a secluded area of the dock away from the party's hustle and bustle. I sat in one of the lounge chairs, resting not only my body but my mind as well. I rubbed my temples, trying to work out the various knots that had formed in my brain.

I cast my eyes out onto the breathtaking South Pacific. Wow. What a luxury it would be if I was free from work! What a wonderful life I would have if my only goal was to gaze out onto this beautiful water and drink fruity little drinks with a handsome man by my side.

But, alas, here I am, enjoying my brief respite before the owner summons me.

“What are you doin’ out here?”

My heart leaped. I turned around to reveal the source of the voice, Carmen Berzatto. He stood there with a smug expression on his face, his white chef's apron splattered with various stains.

“What, did Claire not give you enough shit to do?”

He asked, pulling a box of cigarettes from the pocket of his apron. I rolled my eyes.

“She said I could take a break while the guests enjoyed their dinner.”

Carmen popped a cigarette into his mouth.

“Don’t you have to make dessert soon?”

I inquired, hoping to provide an excuse for him to leave. He hummed, cupping his hand around the butt of the cigarette to keep the lighter's flame from blowing out.

“Nah. When dinner’s almost over, I’ll start cooking something up. So, I reckon I got about thirty to forty five minutes?”

The cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke.

“Did you come out here just to annoy me?”

Carmen scoffed, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his inked forearms. I could not help but glaze my eyes over the various tattoos. I wonder if they have any significance.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I came out here because I knew it would be quiet.”

I sighed with exasperation.

“I did as well. I suppose I thought wrong.”

He glanced at me.

“I whipped something together for the vegetarians.”

I nodded.

“Good.”

Carmen scoffed with annoyance.

“No need to thank me.”

Carmen chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette before removing it and blowing the cloud of smoke into the crystal clear air. I rolled my eyes.

“I shouldn’t have to thank you after you did what you’re being paid to do. Maybe if you listened and did everything right the first time, I would thank you for your efficiency. But I’m not going to thank you for stressing me out and nearly making me look like a disorganized moron.”

Carmen gritted his teeth.

“Well, Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Y/N, at least give me a little credit! I worked my fuckin’ ass off and prepared fifty vegetarian dishes in forty minutes with no recipe!”

He stated firmly. He would be shouting if his volume rose a few decibels.

“I mean, would it fuckin’ kill you to lose your bitch tendencies for a couple seconds and say thank you?!”

Carmen was flailing his hands around, wisps of smoke trailing the end of his cigarette.

I clenched my teeth. I was so enraged that steam was escaping from my ears. I was tempted to speak. But I was afraid of what might come out. So I simply bit my tongue and averted my gaze.

Instead, I observed the guests rushing around the lower deck. I watched them drink, eat, and laugh. I imagined what they were discussing.

Perhaps the dapper, older gentleman in the blue suit had just returned from his daughter's wedding..

Maybe the young blonde lady in the red dress had a fantastic date last week.

Perhaps the middle-aged man with the big cigar just sold his company.

I tried to push Carmen away from my thoughts. Maybe if I pretended he was not there, he would leave when he realized he was not getting a rise out of me.

“Y’know, it’s unfortunate,” he began.

I jerked my head around to face him. His cigarette had been reduced to a mere inch.

“What is?”

I inquired.

“You’re an attractive lady. You’ve got a drive and passion I admire. You know how to handle yourself.”

He dropped his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe.

“I feel like we could be good friends.”

I scoffed loudly.

“Yeah, right, literally all we’ve done so far is butt heads and yell at each other-”

“Alright, alright, so we don’t work well together. But I think, given the right circumstances, we could get along.”

I considered it for a moment. Carmen was undeniably attractive. I also admired his zeal. And, according to what I have heard through the grapevine, he was very respectful of his entire kitchen staff.

“Is this a strange, roundabout way of asking me on a date?”

Carmen shrugged, placing his hands on his hips.

“If I asked, would you accept?”

I shouldn’t. There is no logical explanation as to why I would accept. I hate him. We’ve been quarreling the entire time we’ve been on this ship.

“Yes.”

Carmen cracked a grin.

“Well, then, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

I nodded.

“I think I would like that very much.”

I patted the empty lounge chair across from me.

“Care to sit?”

Carmen accepted.

It was very easy to get sucked into the bustle of the yacht during the day. It was so simple to dismiss Carmen as a person with feelings and instead view him solely as a body hired to complete a task. However, I felt sorry for him after witnessing him in such a private setting.

“Hey, um-I’m sorry I called you an idiot earlier.”

“It’s all good. Don’t sweat it.”

He looked down at the floor.

“I’m-uh-I’m sorry for calling you a royal bitch.”

It was now my turn to chuckle.

“It’s all good. I was kind of being a royal bitch.”

Carmen cracked a smirk and shrugged.

“I mean, I was bein’ a bitch too.”

Carmen twiddled his thumbs.

“Sorry, I got so pissed at you. You were just doin’ your job.”

I shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s all good. You’ve taken care of it, and the guests are happy. That’s all I care about.”

Our close proximity allowed me to study him. I noticed the numerous cuts on his hands, the ink on his arms, and the sheen of sweat on his brow. He smelled like cigarettes and smoke.

I suddenly felt overdressed in my blazer and heels. I should be wearing a swimsuit and holding a refreshing drink. He should be the one who overdresses. He should be walking along the deck of his yacht in a white button-up and black dress pants, like a true rich man. The sun should feel pleasurable on my bare skin. Instead, I felt hot and suffocated beneath layers of fancy clothing.

I noticed a food speck on his face. Perhaps some sauce. I cupped his face in my hand, rubbing the stain away with my thumb.

Carmen seized. His face grew hot under my touch. I barely noticed, as my brow was furrowed in concentration.

Before I could completely remove the speck, he began to lean in.

I drew back abruptly, my breath catching in my throat.

My heartbeat quickened.

My cheeks turned bright red.

My jaw dropped to the floor.

Was he trying to kiss me?!

A look of realization wafted over Carmen.

“Oh-oh my God, I’m so sorry! Holy shit, I thought you were trynna kiss me!”

Oh my God. He thought-

“Oh! No, no, no no no. I was just trying to get rid of some food on your face!”

Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ah! Shit I’m sorry!”

I shook my head, dismissing his apologies.

“You’re fine! You’re totally fine! It was my fault.”

Despite the gentle sound of birds and the bustle of people on the lower deck, an awkward silence ensued. Blush was painfully visible on both of our cheeks. Clearly, we both wanted to forget the discomfort that had just occurred. We didn’t even dare look each other in the eyes.

Then, once the silence had lingered, the mood shifted.

We both sensed it.

We exchanged glances, our demeanors tinged with lust.

I could sense the desire swimming in his eyes.

I straightened my back, hoping to calm the butterflies in my lower abdomen.

Carmen and I cocked our heads to the side, peering into the little living area to ensure no one was loitering as we were easily visible through the sliding glass door.

We locked eyes.

His pupils were now blown out with lust, and only a faint circle of blue could be seen.

“Do-”

I gulped.

“Do you think anyone will see us?”

I whispered.

Carmen shrugged.

“Maybe.”

He spoke in hushed tones.

Whatever.

I practically leapt on him as we locked lips. The tension had been broken. As I straddled his waist, I could feel blood rushing in my ears. My heartbeat quickened to the point where distinct pumps could barely be made out.

I’ve never been this worked up over a man in my life.

Carmen's hands reached my waist. He pulled me closer till there was no more room between us. I sighed deeply into his lips, allowing my rigid form to loosen.

I was a sensible woman.

I never took unnecessary risks.

And I certainly wasn’t one to put my job on the line just so I could make out with the head chef.

But Jesus, there was something about Carmen.

There was something so arousing about how taboo this whole situation was.

He made me want to be so… bad.

I threw my arms around his shoulders, tugging him impossibly closer as his tongue slipped past my teeth. It was instantly a battle for dominance. We were two incredibly passionate people. It wasn’t in our nature to fold.

“God, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this.”

He mumbled sexily against my lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve fantasized about having you on top of me.”

My stomach fluttered. I wonder if he ever thought about me in bed, long after we fought. I wonder if he allowed his calloused fingers to slip below the waistband of his boxers.

I ran my nails along his scalp, eliciting a whimper from the back of his throat.

God, he was sexy.

I shifted my weight slightly atop his lap. My clothed core brushed against his erection. I groaned involuntarily, my hips instantly searching for more friction.

“You make me so hard.”

It wasn't just the heat of the day that was making me sweat. Carmen’s hands traveled toward the waistband of my dress pants.

“Please,” he groaned with desperation, “please, I wanna make you feel good.”

I desperately wanted to throw off all of my stupid fancy clothes and feel the sun on my skin while I rode him like my life depended on it. But, alas, I knew it was neither the right place, nor the right time.

“Carmen, I have to get back to work.”

I uttered between heated kisses.

“Later, though, I promise.”

I climbed off him.

Jesus, bad idea to make out with someone in the middle of a shift. Now, I was uncomfortably wet and far too aroused to finish my day with a clear head.

Well, I suppose that’s the price I pay for throwing every ounce of sensibility out the window.

“What time is it?”

Carmen asked, his chest heaving as he struggled to regain his composure.

I checked my watch. My jaw dropped.

Man, my time management skills were awful today.

“Holy shit it’s been half an hour! Your staff is probably wondering where the hell you’ve been!”

Carmen shot up, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Oh my God I still have to make fuckin’ dessert for everyone!”

Although I am all for getting things done on time. Carmen could not go back to work with…

“Y’know, I would advise, um-maybe, going to the bathroom.”

My eyes shot back and forth between his erection and his eyes. Carmen glanced down, immediately getting the memo.

“Shit! Shit, I don’t have fuckin’ time for this!”

I placed my hands on his shoulders to keep him from getting too worked up.

“It’s okay! Just take a deep breath. I’ll tell them you’re dealing with a family emergency or something!”

Carmen shook his head rapidly.

“No, shit! I’m already behind schedule.”

He shrugged my hands off his shoulders.

“I really have to get to the kitchen Y/N.”

He began to walk away, but I grasped his shoulders, spinning his body back around to face me.

“Well, would you rather explain to your staff why you’re late, or why you’re hard.”

Carmen stalled, running his tongue over his lips.

“Yeah, on second thought that’s a good point… alright, we’ll go with your plan.”

I gave him a nod of approval. He turned to leave. But, before entering the small living area, he flipped back to face me.

“Hey, remember to find me later Y/N!”

He shouted.

I recalled our brief, yet passionate moment on the lounge chair. A grin spread slowly over my face.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t forget!”