#that’s probably not true but it’s what I thought at the time

[cheapshrimpysheep]

True Feelings Chocolate - OB Students

SUMMARY: It is normal on Valentine's Day for friends or schoolmates to exchange chocolates with each other. However, the quality of the chocolate reveals how the person really sees you. And homemade chocolate is the greatest message of love that someone can receive on this day.

CHARACTERS: Overblot Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia) x Yuu (Reader)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.280 words per character.

COMMENTS: The number of words varies depending on how much the character is the type to hide his true feelings.

I also would like to be able to write more eloquent lines for characters like Malleus, but as English is not my first language this becomes a bit difficult sometimes.

(and yes, I'm thinking about doing this with other characters, maybe the freshmen, if a lot of people like and reblog this post.)

I hope you enjoy and Happy Valentine's Day 💝

REAL WORLD CONTEXT: You may already know this, but Valentine's Day in Japan is different than in Western countries. In Japan (from what I know and have researched) this day is not exclusively related to romantic love but also to friendship or simple connections between schoolmates or work colleagues.

Just like in the West, it is marked by the gifting of chocolate, but the quality of the chocolate differs: If it's a boss or colleague you're not friends with, they're usually cheaper, more common chocolates. The quality and even price of the chocolate increases according to the relationship with the person to whom it is offered. And a chocolate made by the person themselves is the most valuable of all and is usually, from what I understand, almost like a confession of love.

On Valentine's Day, it is women who offer chocolates to men, but in this case I just kept the logic of chocolates and excluded the gender thing.

Another thing is that since it is normal to give chocolates to friends as well, it becomes more discreet to give more special chocolates to a certain person and it doesn't draw attention to simply give chocolate to someone.

NOTE: Thaumarks would be the equivalent of US dollars.

The rules are clear: the quality of the chocolate represents the quality and importance of the relationship between the giver and the person to whom it is given. And a chocolate made by the giver is the most valuable of all. Which meant he could buy chocolates for his schoolmates, but not for you!

According to the rules and analyzing what he felt for you, your chocolate MUST be made by him and it had to be perfect! Or as close to perfection as he could get.

He has no shame, nor does he think twice before asking Trey for help. He had that smile of someone who wants to mess with him a little the entire time, but knows that wouldn't be a good idea... Okay, maybe just a little comment to see how he would react.

“So... homemade chocolate for (Y/N).” He said as they waited for the chocolate to melt and Riddle prepared the molds.

Riddle continued with what he was doing, but he had blushed a little.

“Those are the rules.” he replies. "The quality of the chocolate should represent how the giver sees the person to whom it is given.”

“I know. I just never thought I'd see you making this kind of chocolate so soon.”

Riddle did not respond, probably because he thought the same thing.

What Riddle didn't know, because it was supposed to be a surprise too, was that you were also making chocolates for him. You made chocolate dipped strawberries. Knowing that Strawberry Tarts are his favorite food, this seemed like the best choice for Valentine's Day chocolates. Once they were ready, you placed them in a red box that you had bought at Sam's Mystery Shop and finished by tying the box with a bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you are preparing the boxes of chocolates to give to the Heartslabyul boys when there is a knock on your door. You open it and find Riddle with his hands behind his back.

“Good morning, (Y/N). I believe you know what day it is today.”

You confirm and say that you were just preparing the chocolates to take to his dorm.

“Oh, that's a coincidence. Because I came here to offer you mine too.” He takes his hand from behind his back revealing a beautiful heart-shaped box with golden designs. “And...” in the other, a small bouquet of roses. He's blushing just a little bit

You take the box and the bouquet, and Riddle smiles when he sees your reaction. But before you open it, you remember and go to the bag where your chocolates were and take out his box and offer it to him. He wasn't surprised that you gave him chocolates, but he was a little when he saw that the box wasn't from any brand. You also take the opportunity to place the roses on the entrance table so you can open the box.

When you take the lid off you see several heart shaped chocolates with your favorite toppings, however, some of the hearts were a little bit crooked and some of the designs on the hearts seemed to have gone slightly wrong. You ask if he made them, unable to contain a small chuckle.

“Y-yes.” he sulks a little seeing you laugh. “I picked the ones that looked best... the first ones burned.”

You taste one of them and feel your favorite filling on your tongue. You say it's very good and Riddle can't contain that sweet smile of his.

“Truly? I... I am so glad!”

And then he remembers the box you gave him. He opens it and sees the chocolate covered strawberries. You say that since he liked strawberry tart so much you thought he would like them. He looks at the strawberries with a sparkle in his eyes, picks one up and tastes it before giving you a cute smile again.

“It's incredible how something so simple can taste so good.” he tells you “So... were they made by you too?” You confirm, but then he asks: “You... did you also make chocolates for the others?” he seemed ashamed to ask that.

You say no, that those were the only ones you made, all the others were bought.

“Really?!” he says smiling, but then immediately clears his throat to assume his usual posture again.

However, he realized what it means, that you felt the same way about him as he felt about you, and it made him chuckle. He holds your free hand, while the other still holds the box of chocolates, gets closer to you and kisses your cheek gently.

“You said you were preparing to go to Heartslabyul.” He tells you with a tender look, as if he can finally look at you the way he wants and you deserve. “Allow me to escort you there then. And I insist on helping you carry the boxes.”

He will take you to Heartslabyul with your arm intertwined with his like a gentleman, while his other arm carries the bag with the chocolates that you will offer to your friends.

Ace and Deuce will argue and compete because they both bought you the exact same box of chocolates that were your favorite. Cater bought you the cutest chocolates he could find and wanted to take a picture of the two boxes together, the one you gave him and the one he gave you. Trey says he wished he had made the chocolates himself but, you know, rules and possible misunderstandings to be avoided, so he ended up buying some chocolates that he also liked as a sort of sharing of favorites.

Regardless of whether you would get chocolates back or not, you bought chocolates for Jack and Ruggie, and you wanted to follow the "rules" and make the chocolates for Leona yourself. But what chocolate would he like? He loves meat, but this doesn't help much. Or maybe it does... you search on the internet for chocolates for meat lovers and see what you can find.

But you didn't find anything, or at least nothing that didn't also involve wine. However, you noticed that dark chocolate was the most used, if not the only one, so you decided to use it and make the famous, perhaps even cliché, heart-shaped chocolates. Once they're done, you put them in the yellow box you bought at the Mystery Shop.

On Valentine's Day, you prepare everything to go deliver the chocolates to Savanaclaw.

Of course Jack also bought you chocolates, your favorite ones by the way. He struggled to keep his tail still when he saw how happy you were and the chocolates you gave him.

Ruggie seemed... struggling to give you the chocolates he had bought for you. He would have liked to have bought the cheaper chocolate, but he didn't want to give you a chocolate that meant you were nothing to him. So he had to spend a little more money and that was what was hurting him. However, his pain was eased by your chocolates.

Leona wasn't with them, so he could only be in his room. You go there and knock on the door.

“What?” You hear Leona's voice on the other side.

You open the door and enter his room. It's no surprise to see him lying in bed as if he had just woken up from a nap. He looks at you with his hands behind his head and smirks.

“Oh, yeah, did you come here to deliver your friendship sweets?” he says mockingly.

“Actually, yes.” you answer, walk towards him and stretch out your arm, handing him the yellow box. “This one is for you.”

He glances sideways at the box for a second, but then lifts his torso and sits up on the bed. He picks up the box and opens it to find dark chocolate hearts. You tell him that you tried to find some kind of recipe with meat but didn't find much. However it seemed like dark chocolate was the best one to pair with meat so that's why you chose it.

“So, you're saying that you did these little things?” Leona picks up one of the chocolates with a smug grin on his face. “Let's see how you did then. I must remind you that my palate is quite delicate.” He takes a bite and seems to enjoy the chocolate, but doesn't say anything.

Instead, he puts the box on the bed, gets up and seems to walk away from you. But then you notice that he's walking over to a chair in the corner of the room covered in clothes. He lazily removes one of the pieces of clothing from the seat and reaches for the white box that was hidden underneath. He comes back and hands you the box.

“Good enough. Here's your prize.”

You take the box and look at it. It’s white with gold details, texture and embossing. It's also relatively heavy for a box of chocolate, and thick. You don't even recognize that brand. Leona laugh at your reaction.

“You've definitely never seen one of these.”

You can't open the box with only one hand, you had to put it on Leona's bed to be able to open it with both hands. He complained like you expected him to, but then he just sat there watching you open the box and see what was inside, while eating more of your chocolates like they were snacks.

You open it, and inside the white box there is a wooden box. You remove the wooden box and see another wooden thing, like a square plate, with a kind of small wooden tongs. Leona is amused by your reaction. You took this out of the white box too, underneath is a booklet, and underneath that, there's a brochure. And after that there finally seems to be nothing left to take out.

“If you're wondering which one is the chocolate, it's the wooden box.” He points to the first thing you took out of the box and take another chocolate of yours to eat.

You pick up the wooden box with a little golden square on the lid and opens it. You pick up a large square wrapped in gold paper. At the bottom of the box, in a smaller diamond-shaped hole with a single cocoa bean.

“That is chocolate.” Leona casually pointed to the large square wrapped in gold paper.

You decide to see what that wooden thing with the tongs was before that. You pick it up, take the tongs off the top and remove the paper it was holding, revealing a gold square with engravings and what looks like a wooden frame around it. You read the title on the sheet of paper: “Testing utensil and plate.” And realizes that these are basically instructions on how to taste the chocolate using tongs and putting it on the golden plate.

You finally decide to search for those chocolates on the internet and you only had to type the name of the brand to see that the first result was: ‘The most expensive chocolate in Twisted Wonderland’. You found that same box and discovered that it cost almost 500 thaumarks. Leona just laughs at your shocked face.

Before you could say anything, maybe even say that you couldn't accept a chocolate like that, Leona takes the golden square and unwraps it, revealing the chocolate, which by the color seems to be your favorite. He breaks one of the triangles that formed the square and places it in front of your lips.

“Go on.” He smirks. “Open your mouth and say what you wanted to say.”

You open your mouth, but instead of talking you take a bite of the chocolate, as he wanted you to do. And it's incredible! He puts the rest of that piece of chocolate on top of the golden plate.

Knowing that the handmade chocolates were an “I love you” message, Leona felt completely confident in doing what he did next. As you were standing, he also stood up, put one of his hands on your waist and pulled you against him to kiss you.

You already kind of knew that it was possible to receive some kind of chocolate from Azul. This tradition can also be seen as a way of strengthening ties or showing respect for colleagues. He would not miss the opportunity to be “generous” to certain people whom he may or may not have selected as people of interest.

But no matter what kind of chocolate he would give you, you wanted to follow the rules and make yourself his chocolate.

You weren't sure which type of chocolate he would like best, so you decided to make a few of each, some dark chocolate, some milk chocolate, and some white chocolate. ‘By chance’, Sam had some molds for sale that you could use to make chocolates in sea-themed shapes like shells, seahorses, starfish, crabs, etc. One of the molds was even of a cute little octopus. You also bought a beautiful lavender box to put the chocolates in.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you were preparing the chocolates to give to the Octavinelle boys when someone knocked on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Azul greets you with his charming smile and his hands behind his back. “Were you getting ready to go out? I hope I'm not taking up too much of your time. I'm sure you have a lot of chocolates to deliver today, knowing how many acquaintances you've made at this school. But let me be the first to present you.” He takes his hands from behind his back revealing a beautiful lavender box with the Mostro Lounge logo in silver.

He must have prepared several boxes of that for his... acquaintances (clients) as well. But you accept the box anyway and take the opportunity to give him yours. Azul doesn't seem too surprised that you give him chocolates too, but he is when he sees that there is no brand on the box. You open your boxes at the same time to see... the same chocolates, the exact same shapes.

“Have you also-” You two start saying at the same time and then stop when you realize you're talking over each other.

“The molds in Sam's mystery shop.” Azul continued with a sweet tone. “You bought them too. So... that means...”

“These chocolates.” You say. “Were they made by you?”

“Yes, they were!” He smiles proudly. “Please, go ahead to taste them. Tell me what you think.”

You can see he used your favorite type of chocolate. You pick up one of the chocolates, take a bite and discover that it has your favorite filling. He can see that you loved it by your face, but he wants to hear your words and you only increase his pride with them.

You then ask him to try your chocolates. You confess that you didn't really know which one would be his favorite so you made some of each type. This makes him chuckle.

“Don't worry, they all look delicious. Let's see if the same applies to the taste, shall we?” He smirks before taking one of the chocolates to his mouth and biting into it.

He looked surprisingly intrigued and you didn't know what that meant. So you ask him if there's something wrong with the chocolates.

“No, that's not it. Your chocolates are very simple, without any special filling or anything that improves the original flavor of the ready-made chocolate. So why...? Why does it taste so good if it's nothing special? Did you use something that my taste buds aren't detecting?”

It was wierd, Azul almost seemed insulted, like you were tricking him somehow. Or like he wanted to figure out the logical explanation for that flavor. You say you only followed a recipe and seeing that he seemed dissatisfied with this explanation you say that people say that something made with love tastes better.

“Don't be ridiculous." He says despite starting to blush a little. “Feelings do not change a well-made recipe or a cook's skills. It might make them lazier and less willing to do things properly." he says, clearly thinking of a certain someone. "But it doesn't suddenly make someone an extraordinary cook. That's not how it works. It doesn't make sense."

And then his subtle indignation gives way to a quite seductive smile.

“Maybe I should see how you do them to find out your secret. And in return, I can teach you how to make the fillings and stuff them. What do you think? Cooking together and teaching each other.” He gets closer to you and tilts your head with a gentle finger on your chin. “Doesn't that sound like a good deal, my dear?”

After this you tell him that you were preparing to go to Octavinelle to offer him, Jade and Floyd the chocolates. There was still the boxes to be delivered to the twins.

“Oh, I wonder what you got for them.”

You say that for Jade you found some mushroom-shaped chocolates and for Floyd you bought some that said they all had different flavors but didn't say which ones, you realized that it was one of those sweets that you only find out if you were lucky or not with the flavor after tasting it.

Azul's mood seemed to improve when you said you had bought the chocolates and not made them. He also highlighted your excellent ability to choose gifts and added that you could be an excellent... business colleague. He liked the idea of a special personal assistant. He will accompany you to Octavinelle and insist on carrying him your gifts.

Jade loved the chocolates you chose for him, although it's hard to be sure even with all those smooth talking praises. For you, he asked his parents to send him some special Coral Sea chocolates. Azul asks you to examine that box and doesn't even hide his distrust towards Jade, who appears theatrically sad. He recognizes those chocolates with the box still sealed and knows that there is nothing wrong with those, so he returns them to you with more peace of mind.

Floyd was a little put off at first because the chocolates looked boring, but he soon became interested when you told him about the surprise flavors. He tried one that he said tasted like octopus and started laughing with great amusement. For you he bought shrimp-shaped chocolates and commented something about finding it funny to see it as a kind of cannibalism.

Kalim would definitely give you chocolates, but you had no way of knowing if Jamil would do the same. You already know how reluctant he is to call someone a friend, let alone give someone chocolates, that is not out of pure politeness, on a day like Valentine's. But either way you wanted to follow the rules and offer him chocolates made by you.

You weren't sure which type of chocolate he would like best, so you decided to make a few of each, some dark chocolate, some milk chocolate, and some white chocolate. But you didn't want to make just boring chocolate hearts. However, you didn't know if there was any filling he liked with the chocolates, so at Sam's Mystery Shop you try to find at least pretty molds. And you found heart molds with beautiful line art. That, and a pretty dark red box with a golden bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you were preparing the boxes of chocolates to take to the Scarabia boys, but they were faster than you.

“GOOD MORNING (Y/N)!” Kalim greets you enthusiastically when you open the door after hearing the knock on it. “Happy Valentine's Day!” He stretches out his arms with a huge smile and a huge basket of chocolates. It even had a heart-shaped balloon tied to it.

You need both hands to pick up the basket. You try to tell him that he didn't need to offer you so much, in fact he didn't need to offer you anything, but all that...

“Don't worry. I love giving gifts to my friends! And it's okay if you can't eat them all before the expiration date, I'm sure Grim can help you with that. There's enough for both of you in there. Hahaha.”

“Or at least we hope it's enough for both of you.” Jamil comments behind him. “Be careful Grim doesn't steal them all from you. And I'm sure Kalim would love to spend a little more time with you, but he has to go deliver the rest chocolates.” He frowns wearily and helplessly.

You can only imagine how many chocolates someone who treats practically everyone as a friend has to give away. But you ask them to wait just one more minute. You put the basket on the table in the hallway, take the one of the chocolate boxes you were preparing to take with you and hand it to Kalim.

Just like the chocolates he gave you, yours were also bought, except the brand you bought was much cheaper. But none of that mattered to Kalim, he was thrilled just because you gave him chocolate at all. But then he remembers and looks back at Jamil.

“We’ll open them in the dorm.” Jamil says. “I'll just try one and you can eat the rest. I know (Y/N) is trustworthy.”

Kalim celebrates and thanks him for allowing him to eat the chocolates. You wait for them to turn their backs to call Jamil in a whisper that you knew he would hear and Kalim wouldn't. He turns as Kalim walks to the gate and you hand him the dark red box with the golden bow. He looks at the box in surprise, glances at Kalim and thought quickly. He takes the box and says: “I'll text you.” before he turns and walks towards Kalim with your box in his hands.

If you had given him that box while Kalim was looking, he would have been super curious and happy for Jamil, maybe even started saying that he should offer you a box too and ask about it. And you knew how much Jamil liked to be discreet and not draw Kalim's attention to his affairs.

You had time to go to all the other dorms and deliver your friendship chocolates before he sent you the messages:

“I'm sorry I didn't thank you for the chocolates when you gave them to me. We only just finished delivering Kalim's chocolates, and he went to the Pop Music Club. I wanted to ask you if there would be a possibility of you passing through Scarabia today? I would like to thank you properly.”

You say you can and he asks if it can be in an hour. You don't ask him why, even though you're asking that to yourself, but you say yes and the meeting is set.

At the agreed time you go to Scarabia and you don't even need to tell Jamil that you have arrived, he is already at the doors of the main building waiting for you. And as if that wasn't enough of a surprise, when you approach him he holds out his hand for you to place yours on top and he kisses the back of your hand. He has a charmingly confident smile on his face. He leads you like a gentleman through the dorm hallways.

“I apologize again for being so curt with you when you gave me the box.” He says as you walk with one of your arms intertwined with his. “You truly caught me off guard. I wanted to thank you at that moment, but I was so much more focused on being quick so that Kalim wouldn't... you know... intrude.” That was the least rude way of saying what he really wanted to say.

You ask him what happened after you gave him the chocolates. The box wasn't small, he wouldn't have been able to hide it from Kalim.

“What I expected.” he sighed. “Kalim started making questions right away. But don't worry, you made the right decision by handing me the box when he wasn't looking. I hope he didn't bother you about it though.”

No, Kalim didn't text or call you after that. Jamil discreetly whispered a "excellent" with a somewhat sinister smile. You ask him if he liked the chocolates and tell him that, since you didn't know which was his favorite chocolate, you decided to use them all. He gives you a slight smile.

“I can appreciate them all. When they're done well.” he smirked. “The shape was nice, probably because of the molds you used. The taste... was good enough.”

You look at him a little sadly, or maybe a little sullenly. He laughs.

“They were good.” he says more gently. “But I think you can do better.” The smug smile returns. “Maybe if I teach you a few things? Or if we cook together? I wouldn't mind that. I bet it would be... interesting to be your tutor.” He seems to like the idea, probably because of the hierarchy you would have (in addition to the one you already have).

You arrive at his room and he invites you to come in and sit on his bed.

“My roommate is also at a club meeting.” He explains, as he picks up a box, that didn't look like anything special, from his desk. “Here.” he gives you the box and sits next to you. “I thought about making you chocolates too.” He can't look you in the eyes and tries to hide the blush that was starting to appear on his cheeks. “But... I didn't want to give them to you without knowing... I made these when I got back to Scarabia, after Kalim had gone to the club meeting.” he points to the box on your lap. “I didn't have much time to get a nicer box, sorry.”

You open the box to find several heart-shaped chocolates made with your favorite type of chocolate. But the ones in the middle had letters that, the way they were arranged, formed the phrase “I love you too”.

“You bought the ones you gave to Kalim.” Jamil says, still reluctant to look you in the eyes. “And made the ones you gave me. That's what it means, isn't it? ...Try it.”

You do so and take one of the chocolate hearts, bite into it and discover that it has your favorite filling. As you expected, the flavor is divine and you say this to Jamil when he asks you what you thought of them.

“I haven't tried them yet after they're done. Can I steal one from you?”

You say yes, but instead of his hand going towards the box, it goes towards your face, holds your chin to turn your head towards him and he kisses you.

You knew you were screwed. Vil is demanding about everything and anything. But you also know he can still appreciate someone’s effort and dedication. Even if your chocolates don’t turn out perfectly, which is most likely the case, you know he’ll still be happy with your hard work and thoughtfulness.

Your real problems lie elsewhere: nutrition and healthy ingredients. Your best bet was dark chocolate, it’s the healthiest of all. But you couldn't just make boring plain chocolates, and making them in the shape of a heart wasn't enough. You search for healthy chocolate recipes for Valentine's Day and you find a recipe for dark chocolate with fruits and nuts.

It was a lot of work to remove the seeds from the kumquats, chop the almonds, dry the cherries and do everything as the recipe said, but eventually your heart-shaped chocolates with fruits and nuts were ready on time. You just had to buy the prettiest purple box you could find at Sam's Mystery Shop and a good red bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you took your chocolates to Pomefiore to deliver them.

Rook would be happy with any type of chocolate you give him. The simple fact that you give him a box or even just a bag on such a special day makes him beam with joy. And of course he also bought you a box of chocolates, your favorites, by the way. (Regardless of whether you told him which ones they were or not)

The best chocolates you can give Epel are the ones you know he likes but that Vil wouldn't let him eat. Even if Vil found out, it would be rude not to accept such a kind gift, so according to etiquette he would have to accept your gift. The two of you smile mischievously at each other. And yes, of course he also bought you chocolates. He asked his family to send special chocolates typical of Harveston just for you.

All that was left was to deliver the last box to Vil, but before you turned around to go to his room to see if he was there, he was kind enough to appear in the lounge at that moment. The way he walked towards you with his eyes fixed on you and that beautiful discreet smile made you feel like the most special person in the room.

You say he arrived just in time because you were about to go look for him, and you give him the pretty purple box with a red bow. He smiles in satisfaction and pick up the box.

“Well, I can't say I'm surprised to receive another box of chocolates today. And I see that this box is not of any brand. May I then assume that they were made by you?” His smile softens even more when you confirm, but even so he doesn't miss the opportunity to add a little smugness to it. “Well, let's see how you did then?”

Vil opens the box and is actually surprised by what he sees inside. He picks up one of the chocolate hearts and examines it.

“Dark chocolate.” He says in an approving tone. “I see almonds, dried cherries and... are those candied kumquats?” The fruits were what surprised him the most and he looks at you in such a neutrally curious way that you don't know whether he approved of those chocolates or not.

You tell him that you know how much he values his good nutrition, so you tried to find the healthiest Valentine's chocolate recipe, and that was the recipe you chose. You add that you followed the recipe to the letter as if defending yourself in case he doesn't like it, but at that moment you see his shoulders relax, the smile return and his eyes look at you with affection.

“You aren’t the first one to give me handmade chocolates.” he starts saying and looks at your chocolates in his hands. “But you are the first one who knows me well enough to know what I would actually like to receive. Except for Rook, but he's a strange exception. All the other boxes that arrived were of the sweetest and most caloric chocolates imaginable. I understand and appreciate the gesture but...” He looks back at you and gives you a small smile. “They don't really know me, do they?”

He takes a bite of your chocolate and looks serious about tasting it for seconds that feel like minutes to you. You ask how they are and if they taste good, he looks at you seriously and then starts laughing when he sees your worried face.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to mess with you a little. I would like to say that these chocolates are quite good, but to do so I have to add that they are, for the skills of someone who is not a professional cook. I don't think I've ever tried this kind of sweets before. Could you give me the recipe?” and even eats the rest of the chocolate he has in his hand, with an expression of clear delight.

Your instinct tells you that something is going on behind you. You look over and see Epel slightly uncomfortable with the way Rook is looking at you and Vil as if he was watching the most wonderful and touching romantic play in the history of theater. He doesn't say a word as if a single syllable could ruin the moment, and he looks like he wants to burst into tears with emotion.

You feel a gentle hand on the small of your back, you turn your head again and see that it is Vil pulling you slightly to invite you to go with him.

“I can imagine the work it took you to remove the seeds from these kumquats and candied them. Such thoughtfulness and well done hard work deserves a proper reward. Don't you think?”

His gaze alternates between looking at you sweetly and looking at Rook in a subtly threatening way, as if warning him not to snoop around. The same look could be given to any other student who looked at you with the same nosy curiosity.

Vil invites you to go with him to a place, you follow him and you arrive at the door of his room. He looks haughtily at the corridor and sees that no one followed you, or if they did they would be left behind in that same corridor. He invites you in, saying that he also has something for you. After he closes the door behind him, he goes to his desk and picks up a small, beautiful, heart-shaped golden box to give you.

“Seeing me enjoying your chocolates was a spectacle and proof enough of your value to the public.” he says referring to the other Pomefiore students who were in the lounge. “They don't deserve to witness more.”

He makes a gesture encouraging you to open the box and you do so. There were few chocolates, at least compared to the ones you gave him, but not only were they beautifully decorated, they were also made from your favorite type of chocolate. Even if your favorite is the least healthy of all. You look at him in surprise.

“Don't get used to it.” he warns you, raising a finger. “I did less on purpose so as not to be so detrimental to your nutrition.” he pokes your nose gently “This is a rare exception, you hear?”

Even though you know what his answer would be, you ask if he was the one who made them.

“Yes, they look astonishing professional, don't they?” He smiled with the greatest pride, before returning to his regular speech. “I also thought about preparing something nutritious, until I thought about what you would like to receive and not what I would like to give. If I did what I thought was best for you while neglecting your own tastes, it would not only be wrong but an insult. It would be the same as all those fans who offered me chocolates without knowing what I would like or even wanting to try. Those chocolates would convey the message that I like you but I want to mold you into the person I want you to be and that is both a lie and a blasphemy. I want to help you improve of course, but that doesn't mean I don't like who you are now. So I used your favorite chocolates and fillings regardless, but did it in small quantities. However, if you wake up tomorrow with a stomach ache because you ate them all, don't blame me, understood?”

If you hug him he will tell you to be careful so the chocolates don't fall out of the box, but he will hug you back, maybe just more delicately.

You taste one of the beautiful chocolates and they are delicious. The pride on Vil's face only increases when you tell him this. Catching you off guard, he gently holds your chin with his index finger and thumb and gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“This is my thank you for your gift.” he then puts his face right in front of yours, your noses almost touching “And this is my thank you for you.” and he kisses your lips.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Idia tells Ortho. “Me? Cook? For THEM? Do you want them to hate me for giving them food so poorly prepared that it could poison them? Should I check-up you? Your cause-and-effect conclusions seems to be miscalculating things.”

“I don’t detect any abnormality in my data processing.” Ortho guarantees him. “But that's what the rules of Valentine's Day tradition say. And I can even use quotes from your games and mangas to support my argument.”

“OI! Don't use those things against me, it's a low blow! Besides, like you said, those are games and mangas, or even movies, they're not real. Real life is not a fairy tale where you always conveniently fall in love with the right person who feels the same way about you. There is a much greater chance that you will fall in love with someone you don't deserve and end up preferring Prince Charming.”

“So what?”

“W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'SO WHAT'?”

“You don't need to declare yourself to them. You just have to offer them chocolates. If the feeling is not mutual, just leave it at that. But I'm sure that (Y/N) will offer you something. Especially knowing how much you like sweets.”

“Oh yeah, sure, it's so much better to receive a friendzone chocolate than nothing at all. It must be the new trend to replace the bucket of ice cream to eat by the spoonful while crying watching a romcom wrapped in a blanket in the middle of the dark.”

“Come on. You know (Y/N), they would appreciate anything you did simply because you tried. They are the type to appreciate the effort and intention more than the end result. I've heard them tell how happy they were with a mere postcard from Malleus Draconia during the winter break.”

“That’s because he's The Malleus Draconia. Anything coming from someone like him is spectacular. Even a curse would be a source of pride for someone to receive simply because he acknowledged their existence.”

While Ortho was trying to convince Idia to At Least Try to make some kind of chocolate for you, you were looking for molds for your chocolates at Sam's Mystery Shop.

And ‘coincidence of coincidences’ Sam had in stock molds in the shape of items from a mobile game that Idea loves. Funny enough, they were also sweets, items for the cards if you're not mistaken. But the problem arose when you saw the price: 130 thaumarks. Sam approached you when he saw your certainty in wanting to buy that item turn into doubt and consideration.

You told him you wanted to buy that, but it was too expensive for your tight budget. So, knowing that you're a trustworthy little imp, he lets you pay what you can for it and work a day or two at the store until you can pay the rest. But he wouldn't need you anytime soon, he'll tell you when he does. You accept the deal and get the molds in addition to the ingredients and the bright blue box with a black bow.

Knowing that he loves sweets, you decide to use white chocolate and milk chocolate. And you made a lot of them, enough to fill the box almost to its limit.

Meanwhile, the only way Ortho found to convince Idia to get you chocolates was by suggesting that he make some and buy others and wait to see if you would give him chocolates and what kind. If you gave him friendship chocolates, he would give you the box he bought; if you gave him chocolates you made yourself (as if), he would give you the ones he made... and the ones he bought too. “I'm terrible at cooking. It's better to play it safe if they come out inedible.”

The next day, Valentine's Day, you take your gifts to go to Ignihyde to deliver them to the Shroud brothers.

You give Ortho a cute heart-shaped power back. You tell him that you would like to give him chocolates too, but since he doesn't eat you try to find something equivalent. And even if it's not a very good charger, it's still a cute decoration. Ortho completely agrees with you and is very happy that you put so much thought into his gift. He gives you chocolate in return, a box of your favorites.

Idia is nowhere to be seen, but Ortho knows you know where to find him. You go to his bedroom door and knock on it. The door opens for you. As you might expect, he is sitting in front of his computer. He pauses the game he was playing, takes off his headphones and turns his chair to look at you.

“Hey, um, you don't need to give me chocolates out of pity if that's the case. I don't need to get something just because my brother received a gift.”

You assure him that it's not out of pity, it's because you really wanted to give him those chocolates.

“I hope you didn't spend too much. I don't want you to regret it to much.”

"I may have spent a little more than I expected," you admit, handing him the box and placing it on his lap. "But I'll be keeping the molds.”

“Molds?! You didn't actually...” He stops to first check if what he thought you had done was true.

He opens the box and it takes him a few seconds to analyze those shapes well. You are startled to see him jump out of his chair.

“THESE ARE GROOVY SWEETS! Where did you found them? Wait! You said you found molds? I didn't even know there were molds to make them! How much did it cost? This game is quite niche, it must not have been easy to find. Or cheap.”

You say finding them was easy because you simply saw them in Sam's Mystery Shop and recognized the shapes and the game logo. Idia asks you about the price again and you try to change the subject until he says that if you don't tell him he'll look it up online. And you finally tell him the price.

“And isn't that a little tight for you?” He doesn't seem the least bit surprised by the price. “I mean, the money you have comes from the headmage as far as I know, right? And I don't think he gives you much more than the bare minimum.”

You tell him about the deal with Sam.

“WHAT?! Oh, No! You won't get into debt because of me!” He says determined “I'll send Sam all the money you spent and what's left to pay for the molds. And if you don't tell me how much it was, I'll just send him, like, I don't know, a 500 thaumarks or something and you can buy whatever you want with what's left.”

You say he doesn't need to exaggerate so much, you could even accept him paying for the molds for you, but the rest was ridiculous.

“Hey, I may not be a prince but my family is still quite wealthy, you know.” he says with a smug, which then turns into his cute smile. “You must have had so much work making them, let me at least help with the expenses.” the smug returns “You know I'm going to send him the money no matter what you say right?”

You sigh a ‘Fine’ and ask if he could finally taste the chocolates. He takes one of the white chocolates and bites it. You even say that you thought about putting something else in them, but you didn't know what, however it seems that this wasn’t necessary. He was eating the chocolate with such a cute smile, and the ends of his hair started to turn a slightly pink.

“Did you try them after they were done?” he asks.

You say you ate the first one you made to taste test it, but not the ones you gave him. He takes another one and brings it to your lips for you to eat. You open your mouth and grab the chocolate, it was good, but what you liked most was the fact that he fed it to you. After this episode of confidence, he becomes embarrassed again.

“I... um...” he then proceeds to speak in the speed of light. “Ortho made me make chocolates for you because it was like the rules of tradition or whatever but you don't need to eat them they definitely suck. B-b-but I bought better ones for you.” he picks up a relatively large box and returns to speaking at a more intelligible speed. “I bought the biggest box of your favorite chocolates they've ever sold.”

You accept the box, but still ask what he said about making chocolates for you.

“What? How can you still understand what I say at that speed? Don't tell me you're one of those people who puts a video on x2 speed or something.” You look at him disapprovingly, showing that you know he's trying to change the subject again. He sighs. “Listen, I know the rules are that when you... really... like... someone you should make the chocolates yourself, just like... you... did. But what does it matter how or who does them, what matters is whether they taste good or not, right? It all ends in the same place anyway.”

“So... these chocolates,” you point to the box you gave him “or any others would be the same to you?”

“Wait! No! That's not what I meant! T-t-the ones you made n-needed to be made, t-they can't be bought.”

“So, would you prefer if I had bought them? Surely they would be better made by a professional, right?”

“N-n-no! You are distorting what I... No, actually, that's exactly what I said... B-b-but that does NOT apply here, not to you, I just... I SUCK AT COOKING, OKAY!? I didn't want to give you something ugly, poorly made and with horrible taste. But fine! If that's what you want!” He goes to the closet and takes out a pink heart-shaped box to give it to you. “You can have it. Don't say I didn't try to warn you.”

You pick up the box and open it to find cute hearts made with your favorite type of chocolate with sprinkles on top. They didn't look bad, they even looked well made. You pick one up and taste it, and it tastes good to you. You actually liked it and tell him that.

“Y-you actually enjoyed that amateurish attempt at cooking? You feeling okay? Are your taste buds buggy? You don't need to say that just to be nice, you know?”

You assure him that you're not just being nice, that you really liked it. Of course they could be better, just like yours could be too. Maybe you should try doing them together sometime?

“First Ortho makes me cook and now you? Do you really like me or just like to see me suffer?”

He insists that you keep the ones he bought too because they were for you anyway. If you give him a kiss on the cheek to thank him he will get all flustered and the ends of his hair will turn bright pink.

You knew very well what kind of chocolates you wanted to make for Malleus: ice cream! But you didn't want to offer him a bowl of ice cream, so you search the internet to see if there was any type of Valentine's Day chocolate that involves ice cream and you find the ice cream bonbons, which are basically balls of ice cream, covered in chocolate.

The recipe you found was for vanilla and chocolate ice creams, which also seemed like the safest choices. You don't make a lot, but you can still make several of each type of chocolate and decorate them with white sprinkles on the dark and milk chocolate ones and rainbow sprinkles on the white chocolate ones.

Unfortunately, since they are cold sweets, you can't put them in a normal box, so you put them in a container and store them in the fridge.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you wonder how you're going to get those chocolates to Malleus. You don't want to ruin them and you're afraid it could take so long to find him that the chocolates will start to melt even if you use a container designed for cold food. At that moment, someone knocks on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Malleus greets you when you open the door. “Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you had a good night's sleep. I'm here to fulfill the tradition of offering chocolates to my loved ones.” He snaps his fingers and a beautiful black heart-shaped box with a translucent green bow appears floating.

Malleus takes the box and hands it to you with a slight but sincere smile. As you pick up the box and thank him, you remember that ever since you woke up you were almost certain to hear movement outside Ramshackle Dorm. And that's why you ask Malleus if he was there for a long time.

“I will not hide the fact that I arrived before you woke up, but it has not been that long. Only two or three hours perhaps?”

He tells you it's no problem, for him it's not that long, but you still invite him in since he's been out there for so long to you. The two of you sit on the lounge sofa and Malleus can't take his eyes off you, he's so eager for you to open the box. When you finally do, you find beautiful hearts of your favorite chocolate with detailed and delicate line art. Malleus was so happy with your reaction, especially if you say you feel sorry for eating them because they are so beautiful.

“Im glad you enjoyed the presentation so much.” he says with an amused smile. “But please do not let that stop you from consuming them. Unfortunately, their edibility is ephemeral, so don’t let your desire to appreciate its exterior prevent you from savoring its interior and appreciating it in its entirety. Furthermore, I truly wish to know your opinion about my cooking.”

“You were the one who made them?” you ask.

“Yes, it was I.” he confirms with a proud smile. “That is why I'm rather looking forward to hearing your thoughts.”

You take one of the chocolate hearts and bite into it to taste your favorite filling too. It was delicious and Malleus couldn't have been happier about it. Then you remember your chocolates and get up to get them without telling him what you were going to do in the kitchen. You return with a modest-looking container for cold food in your hands and sit down next to him again.

You apologize for not having a box as pretty as the one he gave you and explain that you didn't know how you were going to get those chocolates to him since they had to be kept cold.

“There is no need to worry about that.” he reassures you with a loving smile. “I completely understand your dilemma. Fortunately, you needn't to think about that anymore for I am already here.”

He gladly accepts the container and opens it.

“They certainly look lovely” he says, smiling. “Am I right in concluding that your container dilemma indicates that you made them?” When he sees you confirm, his smile grows and becomes even more affectionate. “From the looks of it alone you seem to have done an excellent work. I'm looking forward to trying them.”

He carefully picks up one of the chocolates and bites into it, his eyes widen when he realized what the inside was.

“Ice cream...” he mutters to himself with a charming smile and then looks at you lovingly. “Is this why you had trouble figuring out a way to preserve them while transporting them? You focused so much on doing something to my liking that you ended up neglecting the logistical aspect.”

You confirm and he laughs heartily.

“I believe you are as aware of the rules of this tradition as I am.” his smile becomes seductive. “Chocolate made by one's hands should be a declaration of love, shall it not?” He takes your reaction as a confirmation.

He caresses your face before giving you a delicate, loving kiss on the cheek. You look at him and see his lime green eyes shining with the most love there could be.

After that he will offer to accompany you to Diasomnia so you can deliver your chocolates to the others. He will never leave your side again and will find any excuse to get so close to you that he will respectfully put his arm around your shoulder or waist.

Silver is too oblivious to realize what's happening between you and Malleus. As for the chocolates, he doesn't give you your favorites because he doesn't know which they were, but he gives you the ones he genuinely thought and hoped you would like. And even if they weren't your favorites, they were ones you really liked.

Lilia will have that smile every time he looks at you two and will try to mess with you a little. As for the chocolates, he said he would have liked to have made your chocolates himself but, you know, rules and misunderstandings to be avoided. (For a moment you shared Riddle's adoration for rules) So he offers you the most beautiful chocolates of your favorite type that he could find.

Sebek will enter into an internal conflict because he doesn't know whether to be jealous of you or happy for his liege. As for the chocolates, he doesn't give you anything too fancy, the chocolates even seem quite simple and basic, but “coincidentally” they are your favorite type and with your favorite filling too.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

*Sorry for the Cook Leona kinda bait, but let's be real, he would never even try to cook for anyone, not even himself, haha. Also, he is fully aware that he is terrible at cooking and he didn't want to give you poorly made chocolates when he could buy the best ones out there.

Did this get too long? Sorry 😣

[fanzou]

To Be Vigilant

✗ Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x GN!Reader

✗ Genre: Fluff

✗ Total WC: 0.8K

“‘N…. I don’t know, he’s just so… handsome and masculine and so great in all the right ways.” You say so dreamily, palm propping your head up.

Robin just takes it all in, not ‘cause she wants to. But because she has to. She really does love you. Truly. Had it been anyone else she’d probably grow just a smidge irritated. Well, not like she wasn’t right now. This, here, right now, her zen time? She’d likely pick up a book and enjoy her favorite drink and go to town, and that was the initial plan—but alas, here you were talking about Zoro like a schoolgirl in love.

So yeah, she was a smidge irritated but she’d tolerate it, for you.

“Do you want me to stop talking about him?” You smile, sheepishly while tracing the outline of the wooden table.

If Nami was here, she’d answer with the most blunt and straightforward, YES! ever. Pity for Robin that she wasn’t there to accompany the two of you.

She smiles back, just a little lighter. “I can’t promise I won’t cancel you out while you do.”

You whine her name, resting your head on her shoulder while she swirls her coffee around with a spoon, you have a light grip of her arm.

Like seriously, if it were anyone else.

“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?” Would be the logical approach, and she, by all means, is right. But you often defied logic, many times reaping the consequences. This was one of those times. “You never truly know what he might be thinking.”

“That’s just it. It could go so wrong!”

“It could also go right.” She peers down at your desperate figure, clinging onto her like she was your life-line.

Shit, couldn’t argue with that.

You sigh in a last effort of defiance, “I think I’m fine with liking him from a distance. It’s not doing me any harm right now,” you resume in your own activity—that being fiddling with your fingers, pulling away from the black-banged woman. “Yeah… I mean, watching him work out in the Crow’s Nest is kinda hot.” She giggles at your remark. Wow, that’s kinda surprising.

She’d probably regret it though, it grants you a chance to egg the topic on, “There’s something so charming about his attitude and personality, though. Like he could be such a good boyfriend—No, he’d be a great husband.”

Robin says nothing, a little hm, flipping to the next page over.

And this is where you kinda start feeling bad, it’s not the first she’s gotten an ear load about how dreamy and handsome you thought Zoro was. Probably wouldn’t be the last, either. You’ve yapped Nami’s ear off about it and she was not as generous when it came to your rambles. Partially because there was so much she could take and partially because she cringed at how highly you spoke of him. She couldn’t take it anymore, so… you moved onto your next victim. A voice of reason, (like you’d ever listen to reason anyways.) Robin.

Surprisingly she speaks, “You should be more careful with where you say things.”

…Okay? You look back up to her after your arms are crossed over the other with your cheek leaning on top for a little duration of time, and get a look at the woman as an effort to make her push a little further into her statement.

But she doesn’t. Abruptly Robin stands from her seat, she closes her book and brings her coffee with her. She looks over to the door, as if someone was there—then to you.

“I wish you the best of luck with the swordsman.”

You giggle, “You say that like he’s—”

Oh.

Oh.

And then your worst fears come true. You lose vision of her, and then it’s replaced with the thief of your heart.

Oh shit.

His tone is condescending, and he lifts his head up as if to mock you, “Like I’m?” His shoulder is leaning against the door frame of the room; you’re frozen in place. Eyes as wide as flying saucers, hands gripping the nearby surface. You whimper very slightly.

Shit, was this her plan all along? Was that why she giggled at what you said? She wasn’t really trying to egg you on to speak anymore but, it was so perfect. She did this on purpose, get you to spill in possibly the most convenient time possible. You should’ve known. She’s never taken interest like this before.

And how couldn’t you sense his presence?!

Your palms are sweaty, you’re hot all over, “Like… like…” But he only grins, and it’s so sadistic, he takes delight in your shocked state. He’s truly the devil.

“Guessin’ we’ve got lots to talk about, huh?”

[dilf-docs]

Tuyo Será, Y Tuyo Será

sub!javi peña x younger!reader

summary: after an stressful day at the office, javi finds solace in your warm embrace: you, his informant, who he has yet to cross that line he always crosses, like a goddamn vice.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, pwp, sub!javi, mommy/daddy kink (they call eachother mami and papi), oral (m. and f. receiving), hand job, face-sitting, fingering, creampie, p. in v., overestimulation, praise kink, degradation kink (u call him a slut once or twice lol), real men yearn™, bit of angst sprinkled, no sense whatsover just feels™

word count: 5,924 words

side note: i'm gonna be very honest with y'all. i listened to the theme song of narcos, tuyo (so good check it out), and got infested with a real bad crave to re-watch (but before reheating my narcos nachos i want to finish my romcom february marathon and finish the mission impossible movies). also, my tl is filled with javi gifs and my lewd thoughts abt him have gone beyond comprehension (not the bush reblog doing numbers...). see, it all started with an audio of him yelling maricón while i browsed twitter, which in case u don't know is the spanish equivalent to the f slur. sorry, it made me horny. javier's so bossy and intimidating but what if he wasn't? i'm all in for brat taming but i have a thing for sub boys lowkey. ah, i almost forgot, HAPPY VALENTINES MY LOVELY CITIZENS! (it's literally 12am) this is a gift from my single delulu romantic ass to you (and it's filthy sex? well, yes! isn't that a testament of our town's core beliefs? that's true love to me idk)

The air around him was tingued with women for the night, licor, suave conversation and burnt cigarettes.

The Cali cartel case had been stuck for a while. After the success of Pablo Escobar's hunt and Murphy leaving, besides his ascend, Peña felt the need for things to go fast; succesful. Besides, he had found it hard to balance the stress left behind, the one women and nicotine used to fix before.

He's nursing a glass of whiskey, despite claiming he was going to quit that too, eyes scanning the bar for you.

Sure, informants weren't his thing anymore, but he had a long history with you: you, who despite the violence and danger stayed, probably for the money, probably for him. Yes, he likes to think from time to time that your reason for choosing Colombia and denying the fake ID and passport he gave you was for this borrowed time you had with each other, filling the gaps between long nights at an office too big for a person, all to avoid the same loneliness waiting for him back at his apartment, because home meant warmth, and there was no one waiting for him back there.

So he chose to entertain you when he picked up the phone.

"Peña" he answered the call, fingers drumming against his desk and the poor hues of the lamp above scattered paperwork, some pages tinted with coffee circles caused by the base of his mug, filled over and over again.

"It's me" and he smiles at the sound of your voice, sweet, unlike the bitter taste of caffeine. "Is it a bad time to call? Are you busy?"

Filler questions, to steady your heart. The lonely office answers back mockingly on Peñas side.

"For you, I'm always available" he responds instead, cheeky. "What are you doin' up late at this hour?" he's asking, even if the question applies to himself as well. "Stayed up thinking 'bout something?"

Your tongue backfires you, speaking before you can stop yourself.

"You" there's a satisfied hum on the other line.

"So I take you call for a lead?" he leans back on his chair, arm resting behind his face. "Would be real helpful, hermosa"

"Sorry to dissapoint" how would you reveal the real reason you called? No. Never. "I just wanted to hear you"

He's standing up before he can register, pacing around the dim lit room.

"Baby..." he's already speaking up, condescending. No, not you too.

"C'mon, Peña" your heart beats dangerously, feeling it swell painfully on your throat. "It's been a long week, hasn't it?" a beat, "I'm on this bar near the office, mind if you join an old pal for a drink? I know you are alone too"

The feeling settles in, like his mind.

"Yeah?" he challenges.

"I see the office lights, all dark. 'Cept for yours"

He laughs, "You're a true detective, baby. Might have to hire you"

He's always calling you baby, because that's what you were when you started working this. Baby first, laced with intrigue and amusement at how you'd stand tall despite your age, ready to risk your life to free your home of the violence and terror drugs had brought upon. Baby now, more like a reflex, a habit Javier Peña can't break; the worst of his vices.

"Well, am I not already?" you laugh. "Come, will you? Just a drink and I'll leave you alone. You're free to drown on paperwork after that"

Worst is, Javier had already agreed the moment he picked up the saccharine tinge of your voice on the phone, impossibly addicting.

"Deal"

So now he's here. And he's finally seen you.

"You're here"

He takes a quick scan of your body, sporting a rather simple outift. Yet you seem to pull it off, hair cascading down in soft waves that ressemble the sea, very fitting in their job to compliment your tan skin.

"I am"

"You said you were here" he remarks, finishing his glass.

You take the glass from his hands, stiff from all day at the office, then raise it, mockingly alluding a toast.

"Wanted to let you relax for a bit" you add. "Thought you stopped"

"I needed it" not to admit out loud your call had made him nervous, hidden desperation and fire behind your apparent casual words. Or maybe it was his mind, far too tired and stressed to think straight.

"Good. Ready to go?"

"Where?" but he's already stand up from the stool.

"My place" and there's that same undertone he picked at first (once an agent, always an agent) now less hidden and more out in the open for him to follow or quit, much like any other of his addictions.

"For?"

"It's up to you to find out"

"Cheeky baby" he's chastising, his eyes full of something dark, and not punishing. "Are you going to murder me? Drugged my drink?" he attempts to do a terrible joke, all to calm down the fire on his soft belly and the throb of his cock. Fuck, when was the last time he had blown off some steam?

"You don't bite the hand that feeds you" you quip, but your teeth ressemble fangs. "¿Quién te crees que soy?" (who do you think I am?)

The walk to your apartment felt longer, despite having been here on a pass before, or when sending novice agents to watch for your safety.

He's never been inside before, but now he's taking the stairs two at a time, despite being tipsy, reaching your floor while you giggle with confidence, yet there's some uncertainity when you fumble your keys due to shaky hands, probably because you've never let him inside or because of your plan for tonight.

"It's very you" he comments out loud while you mumble a soft Shoes off. He takes another quick scan, some dishes drying on the counter, a rugged carpet and a flower vase with some petals fallen over the coffee table in front of your TV. It looks like a home, lived in: unlike his, that seems a curated effort to show someone occupies it, as a hotel room rather than a place to live. It's your warmth, thought, the one that wraps him up like a blanket or a fire.

Peña's been so busy looking around that he doesn't notice you've dissapeared.

"Baby?" he searches around, "¿a dónde te fuiste?" (where did you go?)

"In here" coming from the yellow-ish light at the end of the hallway.

He walks in slow steps, the floor creaking under his weight. Javier is opening the door, and the last he expects is to see you like this: on the bed, sprawled out. Fuck, he had imagined it alright: pumping his cock to the thought of you, but never thinking he'd got the very real thing for him.

"Baby-"

But here you were, all while he drools like a pathetic hungry dog, wordless and so fucking touch starved.

"Like what you see?"

His eyes roam over every dip and curve of your body, how your skin trembles even if he hasn't touched you and the room is hot. Heat is building within him, primal instincts fighting to take you, claim you, and make you his. It's a goddamn burning feeling he knows all too well.

"Mucho" he grins wolfishly, purring "bet it tastes as good as it looks" (a lot)

You sport a victory grin. "Why don't you find out?"

Your voice is like a siren call, and he's surrendering to the years of depriving himself of you.

He slowly walks to the bed, afraid if he speds up things, he'll wake up of this dream. He begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing his honeyed skin and soft belly from stress eating and licor, a smattering of dark hair trailing down past his navel.

Peña makes a pause at the edge of the bed, where you have sat up. He delicately cups with his rough hand your soft cheek, capturing your lips in a short n' sweet kiss. Finally, tasting all of you, tongue in your mouth wet, exploring every corner to get to know you: not the brave and loudmouth but the needy and touchy side of yours in bed. It speaks about pent-up passion and a hunger that seems to be only sated by the taste of you; the water to calm his thrist.

"Need you, baby" he breathes against your swollen lips. "Want to feel your skin and heartbeat as my own"

But a smile paints your lips as you sit on the edge, and he's unsure what it means.

"Slow down, needy boy" you taut, kissing the tip of his nose. "Do you remember our call? Said you've been through some stress" Javier lets out a little whine, "haven't you?" he nods eagerly, melting under your confident touch across his bicep, tracing his stomach that protudes over his jeans and belt. "So, how about this? I had an idea"

He raises an eyebrow, trying not to get distracted by your persistent touch.

"Better make it good. My patience is wearin' thin" and you can't help but coo at his strained pants and needy demeanor, so contrasting to his broody and serious nature.

"You've had a terrible week" fingers now getting lost down his happy trail, dangerously low to his pulsating cock. "Why don't I help you? But not like you think, no" you smile. "Let me take care of you, baby. I'll do all the work, and all you have to do is follow my orders like the obedient pretty boy you are. Sounds easy, right?"

A shiver runs down his spine as his dick strains against his pants. He bites back a groan, hips twitching involuntarily as you tease him.

He gulps, thinking about it. It's a new proposition that makes his cock pulse. Truthfully, it's been a week, no, weeks filled with stress, and the idea of letting someone else take control, despite his preference on him being the one in charge, aligned with his powerful masculine husk, makes it hard to picture it. But your parted swollen lips, eyes set with that determination he loves and his aching aging body...

Al carajo con todo. Peña is in. (Fuck this shit)

"Are you sure you can handle all of this?" with a stupid grin on his face, signaling his heating body, glistening with a sheen of sweat from the make-out session from before. "I'm not used to this, but for you, baby, I might make an exception. I trust you to take good care of me, yes?"

You hum, standing up. Even if he towers over you, you feel in power.

"¿Cuál es tu plan, mami? I want to hear every filthy sinful thing you have in mind" (what's your plan?)

You stand in your tiptoes to lick his lips, then planting a wet kiss that sends a jolt of electricty straight to his aching cock. Javier's heart pounds with anticipation while your tongue roams his mouth, making out until his pupils are blown wide and hair disheveled. He must look pathetic now, but he doesn't give a flying fuck about it.

"Oh, but I don't want to spoil any surprises... it wouldn't be fun" you grin. "Are you willing to be obedient for me? So you get to see what I have planned. Now sit, on the edge of the bed, now"

Wordlessly, he sits on the edge you previously had, his feet planted firmly on the floor, his thighs spread wide in a delicious manspread Peña often did.

"I've done as you asked, baby" voice firm with a low desire. "What's your next move?"

His chest heaves with each ragged breath that drags like a cigarette.

You drop on your kness, pushing his thighs further apart, red nails (just as he liked; did them a day earlier for him) digging into his jeans as you squeeze the thick muscle. Then, you lean down and press a kiss to his bulge. A low, guttural groan tears from his throat, touch igniting sparks of pleasure that raise through his veins., hips bucking involuntarily, seeking fricction. His hands clench on his side, hold as white as your sheets, trying not to grab you and disobey the looming domineering aura you had imposed on him.

"Want to hear your pretty sounds when I treat you good, baby. All of them; don't hold back"

"Fuck, baby" he pants, voice starined with the effort of holding back. "W-want to hear your every breathy moan, every filthy curse and-"

You nuzzle your face into his bulge, cutting his words effectively, the rough fabric scratching your face over his painfully hard bulge, eyes teasing.

"Hmh, hear me? No, papi. Today is all about you, just you"

He shudders at the contrast of your soft skin over the rough denim. He gazes down, eyes as dark and intense as yours, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple from the intensity of his arousal.

"You're torturing me, baby" his voice is a low rumble on his chest. "You want me to beg, plead for your touch like a desperate man?"

Peña reaches down, calloused fingers skimming along your jawline before tilting your chin up to force your gaze to meet his own. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, the rough digit dragging across the delicate rosy skin.

"Very well. I'll play your game and be what you want me to be"

"Please, want to hear you baby: beg, plead for me. And I shall give" you squeeze his thigh, playing with his belt buckle, a soft metallic clink echoing in the charged air. "Would you want me to help you? Use your words"

"Please, y/n" he raps, your name a delicious sound on his lips. "Please, I need you. Your touch, your kiss, your everything... I'm begging you, baby, help me"

He never imagined he'd have you like this, let alone, on this scenario. Why had he restrained himself when you had always wanted this as much as he did: with the way your eyes took him in everytime he walked in the room, or the way your hand would linger on your brief meetings to share information. It was the way you held onto him, like faith.

Peña reaches down, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt hidden under his belly, struggling to undo the clasp. The agent curses, feeling dumb all of a sudden with his display of desperation, at how a young girl gets him so out of himself, horny stupid. May be the lack of women or just, well, you.

"Touch me, baby" he pleads, his eyes dark and intense. "Wrap your hands around my cock and stroke me- Want to feel your mouth on me, for you to take me, please-"

He leans back, chest heaving. This raw need he feels, it tugs at his heart and cock.

"Since you've been such a good boy, I'll reward you" you smile, oh so sickenly sweet, as if you weren't edging him. "Gonna shove my cock so far my throat you won't be able to think of anything else"

Javier shudders at your words, cock leaking with precum at the thought of your lips around his shaft. The room falls silent, and he swears you might just be able to hear the beat that pounds in his ears, that be the reason why you're smiling while he anticipates your touch.

You unzip his jeans with a calculated sense of purpose, the denim material parting to reveal the straining bulge of his erection.

"Such a pretty cock, Javi" the nickname makes his groan, "is this for me?"

He lifts his hips, allowing you to tug the jeans down his thick thighs, dick in display.

"Fuck, y/n" his voice echos a needy rumble. "I'm not a man who begs, cariño, but for you, I'll do"

Peña's rough fingers grab your hair, guiding your face closer. The room grows hotter, and you swear you can smell his musky aroma, impregnated with desire and arousal.

So your reward is to wrap your lips around his tip and suck harshly. Javier lets out a rough hiss at the sensation of your mouth, even if just the tip. He feels your tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh, lapping at the drops of precum that had already leaked from his tip.

"Dios" he cries, his head falling back as he archs into your touch. His hand's hold on your hair turns more rough, as he's fighting the urge to thrust deep into your warm welcoming mouth.

You pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You enjoy every second of his disheveled state, and the way your eyes darken, reveling in the power you hold over him, Peña's desire burns even more ardent.

"Please" he begs, "need to feel your throat around my cock as you swallow me down" and then he's bucking his hips slightly, not to force himself on you, but to let you set the pace. He moans at the wet sounds of your sucking, lips stretched around his girth.

Over and over, you take him, your technique getting more confident with each turn.

"You're a natural at this" he praises, voice rough with arousal. "You're gonna be the death of me"

You pull out with a Pop! making him whine.

"Don't talk, baby. I just want to hear your moans you desobedient old man" he barely registers your next move, slapping his cock. He lets out a sharp, breathless moan at the contact. "Will you behave now and let me jerk you off?"

"Sí, sí, sí" he pleads without a second thought, or embarrasment of his needy state. He feels your hand wrap around his throbbing dick, fingers barely able to encircle his thick girth. You stroke him with a teasing slowness, and his hips buck involuntary as he gasps, the pain bordering on pain at the intensity.

He then bites his lips, trying to hold back the desperate pleas that'll sink his masculinity even further, but his chest heaves with the effort, his skin sweat-slicked over his tense muscles.

"Mmm, yes..." he breathes out, the wet sounds of your palm gliding along his arousal, more than he could take. "I'm all yours, baby. Use my cock the way you want"

You smile, "that's my good boy"

He tangles his fingers in your hair once more, guiding your hand as you stroke him. Your fingers and lips brushing drive him wild, whines he can't contain coming out.

"D-don't stop" he begs, eyes fluttering as he looses himself in the haze. "P-please, keep on touching me, making me feel this good. I want to paint your skin with my seed-"

"Beg for it" your voice is low, and you slap his cock again. "Go on, wanna hear you, pretty boy"

Javier lets out a shar gasp at the sudden sting of pain mixing with the pleasure coursing through his veins. His balls tighten, the pressure a ringing sound on his ears as you continue to stroke him ruthlessly.

"Please" voice reduced to a desperate, needy whine. "Please, I need it. I need to cum so fucking badly. Te lo pido, cariño. Déjame, por favor" (i'm asking you, honey. let me, please)

He bucks his hips frantically, fucking himself with your fist at the amounted pleasure.

It's a real picture: disheveled hair that sticks to his equally sweaty skin, fluttering droopy eyes, ragged panting and desperate moans spilling from his pretty lips.

"Fuck, I can't- can't hold it back" he mumbles, eyes wild and fevered. "I'm going to cum, all over your hand. Please, let me have this. ¡Te lo ruego!" (i beg you)

He was lost in the haze of lust, body trembling with the force of his impending climax. The pressure was unbereable; he needed to find release.

"Aw. Pretty boy can't take it anymore, can he?" you coo, laughing a bit. Your nails dig on his thigh. "Do it, baby. And don't hold back: I want to hear every filthy little sound out of your lips"

Peña throws his head back at the same time a low, guttural roar of pleasure rips through his throat. His cock jerks and spams in your grip, spurting hot shots like a volcano. Javier's never felt like this before: so fucking hard, hips bucking and thrashing as he rides out the waves of his intense climax, painting your hand with his cum.

"S-so good. Se siente jodidamente bien, carajo" he moans, hips jerking erratically as the last spurts of his release dribble out onto your fingers. (shit, it feels so good, fuck)

His body slumps back against the bed, and from your knees, you get to see his chest and tummy rising up and down, struggling to catch his breath. His seed still glistens on your hand, so you do the most reasonable thing and suck it off. Javi's cock goes hard again at the sound, dying to see what it looks like, if the image is as obscene as what he can hear, but his back is killing him, so he lays still, fluttering eyes as he looks at the ceiling, a satisfied smirk at the corners of his mouth.

"That was-" he can't even speak, oh God, "I want to" he fumbles his words, "want to please you in return, baby"

But you're not done for tonight. You get up, and he gets to observe your body as you slowly undress the last remanents of your clothes (underwear), a show for him and his hooded eyes. Peña licks his lips like a starved man, but fuck, wasn't he?

Then, you push his body to stay against the mattress, sitting on his lap. He gasps sharply as you pin him down, straddling his lips with a wicked gleam in your eyes.

"Do you think you deserve to cum inside me, Javi?"

He can feel your core pressing against his sensitive cock, wet and hot, making him shiver.

You pinch is nipple, waiting for an answer. A soft cry escapes his lips, and he's arching into your touch. There's a jolt that goes straight to his dick, and he can feel himself getting overestimulated, twitching and jumping under you.

But his eyes are dark and hazy, wandering with lust your body, hands roaming wildly with teasing touches. You brush his too, no, burn it where your touch meets his soft tanned skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"Mmm, I don't know if I deserve such a reward" his tone low and seductive, but there's a twinge of insecurity laced, as if he does believe he isn't worth it. "But I want it. God, I need it" you smile at his pleading. "Want to feel your tight little cunt squeezing my cock, for you to milk me for dry, to take every last drop of my cum"

He rolls his hips slightly, semi-hard cock brushing against your dripping sex.

"Tell me what I have to do to earn the privilege" he whines. "Haré lo que sea, sólo dilo" (i'll do anything, just say so)

"That's my good boy"

You grab his cock, settling it on your entrance, wet folds receiving him. You tease the tip before sliding it slowly inside, and Javier's body shivers when your slick heat taunts him, making him gasp sharply. He feels your moist coat his dick, allowing him to glide his cock along your slit with ease.

"So fucking wet, baby" he praises with a groan, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he fought the urge to surge forward, to bury himself in your welcoming heat in one hard thrust. "So ready for me"

You sink down slowly, every inch of your tight walls gripping him. It flutters and squeezes around his cock perfectly, making his eyes roll back in ecstasy.

"Feels so good, baby" he pants, hips lifting slightly to meet yours as you settle onto his lap. He can feel you enveloping him completely and its driving him mad. "Gonna make me cum before I'm even fully hard" 

He meets your gaze, drowning in your dilatated pupils, your breasts bouncing with every move and breath. Javier finds that, with such a view, it's not hard to fall into this supplicant version of himself.

You start bouncing on his cock, letting it hit all your spots. You whine, softly.

"God, Javi, feels so good-" he's babbling nonsense in spanish as he holds you by your hips. You feel your release coming.

"Shit, Javi. Mami is cumming-"

You fuck yourself faster on him, making Peña moan louder when you ride him harder, hips slamming down onto his with urgency. The wet slap of fleash against flesh fills the room, mingling with his cries and your whines.

"Do it, baby. Cum for me, want to know I made you feel good" he urges as he feels your walls flutter and squeeze around his dick, his fingers sinking into your ass' soft skin, guiding your movements.

With one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your cunt. You come undone around him, pussy clenching and rippling along every inch of his cok, sending him over the edge.

"Fuck, mami. I have to-"

You hold his hips down, still on your senses despite just having an orgasm.

"Wanted to cum without my permission, you needy slut? I said I want to hear you beg for it, ask me to come, and don't ever do it without me telling you to"

He can feel his cock pulsing and throbbing inside her, the urge to release his load overwhelming. But at your stern command, he forces himself to hold back, gritting his teeth as he fights for control.

"Perdóname, bebé" he pants, voice strained as he holds back. "It won't happen again without your permission" (forgive me, baby)

"Good. Have we learned, then?"

"Yes, yes!" he cries out, eyes wide and pleading. "Please, y/n. I beg you. Need to cum so badly, I- it's too much, please let me. Please, please, please!"

His fists ball tightly on his sides, knuckles turning white as his body trembles with his impending release.

"Please, let me have your permission to cum," he begs, voice a desperate, needy whine. "I'll do anything, baby. I'll be your good boy, your obedient fucktoy. Just say the word. Please, I'm begging you- let me cum for you"

You push your erection against your core, nodding in response.

"Cum for me, loudly, so I know that you're thankful for this"

With your permission granted and hips pressing down firmly against his, Javier allows himself to surrender to the overwhelming urge to cum.

Thick, hot ropes of cum erupted from his shaft, painting your velvety walls with his essence. He can feel each powerful spurt of his release, the sensation of his balls emptying inside you pushing him to even greater heights of ecstasy. The pleasure was almost too much to comprehend, the feeling of your hot, slick walls milking his cock for every last drop of his release sending him spiraling into a state of euphoria.

"Thank you, baby" he pants, struggling to catch his breath. "Thank you for letting me cum inside you"

"Is that so?" I chuckle, "want to really show me how thankful you are?"

Without telling him so, you slip out of his dick, cum still leaking from your legs, and place on top of him: on his face, even if he slightly struggles for air, keeping yourself held up on the headboard of his bed, barely putting any pressure on him.

"Then eat me, baby" you feel his hot breath against my folds, "reward me for riding your needy dick; wanna hear just how pussy starved you are"

Javier's eyes widened as you suddenly straddle his face, the scent and taste of your combined releases filling his nostrils and coating his tongue. He could feel the sticky essence, a mix of your arousal and his own cum, smearing across his cheeks as you ground your dripping core against his mouth.

Without hesitation, Peña dives in, his tongue delving between your folds to lap up the sensitive nub. He moans deeply, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and against your cunt.

"Mmm, fuck yes" he growls, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pulls you down harder against his face, savoring your sweet pussy that tastes like him too. "I'm starved for this pussy, baby, could eat this pretty little cunt for hours and never get enough"

Peña seals his lips around your clit, suckling the swollen bud as he fucks his tongue deeper inside. He can feel his cock twitching and hardening once more, the sensation of your dripping sex against his face and the taste of your releases on his tongue reigniting his desire.

You grind my hips up to meet his face, moaning loudly as he continues to devour your cunt. He looks up at you, mouth still glued to my pussy. His eyes are glassy and he's whimpering into your folds. The image alone makes your pussy gush.

"Sweet boy, keep going. Doing such a good job with your tongue" you moan while his hips buck into nothing in the air, "love how you eat me out"

Javier moans into your dripping pussy as you ground her hips against his face, the praise and encouragement spurring him on. Your juices flow freely, coating his chin until they drip down onto his chest.

"Love eating this perfect pussy. I fucking love the taste of you, the way you gush and quiver against my tongue. I could spend all day with my face buried between your thighs, worshipping this sweet cunt"

He could feel his own arousal growing, his cock hardening and throbbing as he lost himself in the act of pleasuring you.

Spurred on by your praising moans, he redoubled his efforts, sucking your clit hard as he plungs two fingers deep into your soaked cunt. He pumps them in and out, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot inside you.

"That's it, hermosa. Ride my face. Please, use me baby, please"

He can feel your thighs trembling on either side of his head, body tense as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The thought of tasting your release, juices flooding his mouth, made his own arousal swell to painful proportions.

"Would you let me use your nose, papi? Wanna cum on your face, grind off of it" you say, but even if you ask for permission, you're already over it, riding it.

Javier lets out a muffled moan of approval as you begin to grind your dripping pussy more firmly against his nose, using it to stimulate your most sensitive spots. He can feel the sticky essence of your coupling smearing across his upper lip and coating his nostrils as you ride his face with increasing urgency.

"I want to feel you cumming, drenching my face with your sweet juices" he pleads. "Paint my fucking nose with your release, baby"

He could feel your thighs quaking and clenching around his ears, body tensing as you chase your rapidly approaching climax. The scent of your arousal is overwhelming, the sweet aroma filling his nostrils and clouding his mind with lust.

"That's it, baby. Fuck my nose, use it to make yourself cum," he urges. "Give it to me, y/n. Give me everything you have"

You grip the back of his head, pushing him down while grinding your wet pussy across his face. You feel yourself tightening your hold as you come against his mouth, Javier letting out a muffled cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure as he feels your fingers tangling and tugging demandingly.

"Then be a good boy and take it all"

"Yes, mami!" he gasps, the words vibrating deliciously against your soaked, sensitive flesh. "I'm your good boy. I'll take it all, every last drop"

Peña feels your pussy clench and spasm against his mouth, walls fluttering wildly as your climax crashes over you. He whines deeply, the sound drowned out by the gush of your release flooding his mouth and pouring over his chin. The taste of your arousal is as sweet as he imagined, intoxicating, exploding across his taste buds and sending a bolt of pure lust straight to his aching cock.

"You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet and perfect" he pants, his voice hoarse. "I could drown in this pussy and die a happy man"

He feels your body shaking and trembling above him, hips still grinding weakly against his face. But you still have the strength to lace your fingers through his hair and pull his head back.

You can feel his dick barely grazing your ass, rock-hard again.

"Now swallow it, and I might help you with that" you slap his cock with your free hand. He bucks and jerks at the mix of sensations; the way you toy with him and tease him, only heightening his desperation and desire. "Be a good boy just as you've been. I want to see this throat swallowing it all"

You taut his neck and adam's apple with your nails, the pull exposing the vulnerable column of his throat. He can feel the sharp sting of the nails digging into his skin, the sensation sending a dark thrill of pain and pleasure racing down his spine.

"Yes, mami" his voice a low, submissive rasp. "I'll swallow every drop, just like a good boy"

He tilts his head back further, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps and swallows, trying to obey. The taste of your cum coats his tongue and slides down his throat.

"Good boy" you praise, stroking and slapping his shaft, your eyes never leaving his.

"Fuck!" he cries out, his hips thrusting up to meet your hand.

He can feel his release swiftly approaching, the pressure in his balls growing to an unbearable level. The way you touch him, the taste of your release still lingering on his tongue... he's gone insane, and it's your fault the same man who took down the biggest druglord of the world is now reduced to a moaning mess.

"Please, mami" he begs, his tone desperate. "I need to cum so badly. Will you allow me?"

"Do it" you pant, "and don't hold back any cute cries coming from your lips"

With your permission granted, Javier's cock spams violently in your grip.

"Fuck, yes! I'm cumming so fucking hard, mami. Thank you, baby, thank you so much!"

Thick, hot ropes of cum explod from his cock, painting your hand and his own abdomen with his essence. His body convulses beneath you, muscles clenching and unclenching as his climax tears through him.

He gazes up at you, eyes hazy and mind fucked.

This newfound pleasure was almost too much to comprehend, a weird feeling of ecstasy he had never dreamed of. And it was you, of all people, who had made him come by rendering him to a whiny and needy submissive part of himself he didn't know.

"Thank you for letting me cum, mami" he pants, his voice a low, rough rasp. "I am forever in your debt, baby"

You giggle, laying down next to him, while pressing a soft kiss to his sweat glistening temple.

"Anytime" you reply, so sweet and simple, as if you hadn't completely ruined his life.

But well, wasn't he known for his love to get into places he shouldn't have?

dts: para @ann-gell u know i love u right? my mx valentine, xoxo. no autorizo que te sientas mal así que ten una cochinada ft. javier peñita, te la dedico con amors, my hot funny lovely friend ♡

[amethystarachnid]

So I saw a post on Pinterest and I thought it would be a good idea for a fanfic?im just gonna type it out and explain it after

Peter: im back from my trip i got you another magnet mr.white wolf

Bucky:cool stick it on

-

Tony: is that peters shopping list on your arm?

Bucky: yea

Tony: what the

-

Tony: Peter you need to stop using buckys arm as a fridge

Peter: Mr. White wolf said it helps him associate the arm with something other than murder

Tony: crying

So basically I was wondering if you could do this well not this interaction but like reader and Bucky are friends and reader is Peter? If that makes any sense?

STICKERS

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x teen!gn!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic, fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 2.5k (I'm so sorry if it's too short, hope you like it anyway)

ᯓ★ Summary: Bucky always lets you stick stickers to his vibranium arm but had never told you why...until now.

ᯓ★ I hope I understood the request well, and I tried to make the reader gender neutral since it wasn't specified in the ask, hope you like it <3

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The hum of the compound is familiar by now. Machines whir softly in the background, the faint scent of coffee lingers in the air, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear Sam and Tony bickering over something that probably doesn’t matter. This is home—at least, as close as it gets. It wasn’t always, but things changed. The world changed, and you had to change with it.

Being here is better than being out there. You know that much. The compound is safer. It’s structured. Sure, it’s a little weird living with a bunch of Avengers, but it beats the alternative. When SHIELD fell apart, a lot of things got messy, including your life. No family, no place to go, just a kid caught in the middle of something bigger than them. Steve found you first, said they’d figure something out, and now, somehow, you’ve ended up here. Officially, you’re under the Avengers’ protection. Unofficially, you’re the compound’s resident stray.

“Alright, what is it this time?”

Bucky’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up from where you’ve been hunched over the kitchen counter, fidgeting with a fresh roll of stickers. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking at you with an exasperated sort of fondness.

You grin. “You make it sound like I’ve done something bad.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘bad,’” you say, tearing off a small sticker shaped like a cat. Without hesitation, you reach out and press it to the cool vibranium of his forearm. It sticks perfectly, just like you knew it would.

Bucky sighs like a man who has known deep suffering. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Because you let me,” you answer simply, peeling off another sticker—this one shaped like a tiny watermelon slice—and placing it beside the first.

It’s true. You started doing this months ago, fully expecting him to shut it down after the first few times. He never did. The first time, it had been a dumb impulse, something to break the tension. You’d been talking, and without really thinking about it, you’d stuck a star-shaped sticker onto his arm. He’d given you a long, unreadable look but hadn’t peeled it off. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Now, it’s a habit. Every time you see him, you add a new one. Sometimes, he’ll pretend not to notice. Other times, he’ll act put-upon, like he’s carrying some great burden. You know better, though. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t still be standing here, letting you decorate his arm like it’s an elementary school art project.

“I let you do a lot of things,” he mutters, watching as you place a little frog next to the watermelon.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you say, grinning.

“Steve’s gonna be hurt,” he points out.

“Steve’s got enough fans,” you reply, reaching for another sticker. This one’s a smiley face with sunglasses. You stick it on his wrist.

Bucky glances down at his arm, then back at you. His expression softens—just a little. “Y’know, people used to be scared of me.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, adding a rainbow to his forearm, “they clearly weren’t looking hard enough. You’re a giant teddy bear.”

He scoffs, but there’s no real heat behind it. “A ‘teddy bear’ with a metal arm and a kill count.”

“Even teddy bears have claws,” you say, shrugging. “Besides, you let a teenager put stickers on you. That automatically lowers your intimidation factor.”

Bucky huffs but doesn’t argue. You know he won’t take them off. He never does, at least not right away. Sometimes, hours later, you’ll spot him across the compound, still wearing them.

That’s enough for you.

It doesn’t take long for the others to notice.

The first one to point it out is Sam.

You’re both sitting in the common room, Bucky on the couch, you curled up on the opposite end, sorting through a new pack of stickers you got from a store Tony let you raid on a supply run. They’re good ones, too—holographic, shimmery, some even glow in the dark. You’re in the process of carefully placing a tiny raccoon on Bucky’s wrist when Sam strolls in, eyes scanning the room before landing on the two of you.

His brows pull together. “Uh, what the hell is that?”

Bucky, who has clearly mastered the art of selective ignorance, doesn’t look up from his book. You, however, grin and wave. “What’s what?”

“That,” Sam says, pointing at Bucky’s arm like it personally offended him.

Bucky finally sighs, lowering his book just enough to glare over the top of it. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, man.”

Sam narrows his eyes and gestures again. “That. The stickers. What am I looking at?”

You lean back, admiring your work. By now, Bucky’s metal arm is covered in a vibrant mess of stickers—cartoon animals, little hearts, a glittery UFO, and even a miniature Avengers logo you’d snuck in just for fun.

You beam. “Art.”

Sam blinks. He looks at Bucky, then back at you, then back at Bucky. “And you’re just…letting them do this?”

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah.”

Silence. Sam stares, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. Eventually, he just lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Man, you really are getting soft.”

Bucky flips him off without looking up.

You take that as permission to add another sticker—a rainbow-colored star, right on his shoulder.

Sam shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before grabbing his drink from the fridge and heading out, still looking vaguely disturbed by what he just witnessed.

Of course, Sam being Sam, the moment he’s out of the room, you know he’s going to tell the others.

The next one to comment on it is Natasha.

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, helping yourself to a bowl of cereal, when she walks in. She nods at you in greeting before grabbing a protein bar from the cabinet. It’s a normal morning, nothing out of the ordinary—until she glances at Bucky and does a double-take.

She tilts her head slightly. “Did you get in a fight with a Lisa Frank notebook?”

You nearly choke on your cereal.

Bucky, who is now used to this reaction, doesn’t even blink. “No.”

Natasha takes a bite of her protein bar, studying him. “Then why does your arm look like a kindergarten art project?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, so you take it upon yourself. “Because I put them there.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow. “And he let you?”

“Obviously,” you say, popping another spoonful of cereal into your mouth.

She’s quiet for a moment, her sharp gaze flicking from you to Bucky. You half-expect her to make a snarky comment or tease him, but instead, she just hums and says, “Huh.”

And then she reaches into her pocket, pulls out a tiny cat magnet, and sticks it to his forearm before walking away like nothing happened.

Bucky stares after her, brow furrowed. He lifts his arm slightly, looking at the magnet now clinging to the vibranium.

You snort. “You’re officially a walking fridge.”

He groans.

It only gets worse from there.

A few days later, Steve notices.

You’re in the gym, watching Bucky and Steve spar while pretending to be invested in a book. In reality, you’re mostly waiting for them to finish so you can rope Bucky into watching a movie with you.

Steve circles Bucky, eyes narrowed in concentration. He throws a punch, which Bucky easily dodges. There’s a beat of silence before Steve suddenly drops his stance, frowning.

“…Are those stickers?”

Bucky sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

Steve squints, stepping back to get a better look. “They are.” His frown deepens. “And…are those magnets?”

You bite back a laugh.

Bucky glares at you like this is somehow your fault (which, to be fair, it is).

Steve crosses his arms. “You’ve been walking around like this?”

“Yes.”

“And you just…let them do it?”

“Yes.”

Steve blinks, clearly struggling to process this information. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to reconcile the image of his best friend, ex-Winter Soldier, walking around covered in colorful stickers and fridge magnets.

Eventually, he just sighs. “You’re impossible.”

Bucky smirks. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

Steve shakes his head, clearly exasperated, but doesn’t push the subject further.

You take that as a win.

Tony’s reaction is arguably the best.

You’re in the lab with Bucky, keeping him company while Tony messes around with something that looks vaguely explosive. He’s in the middle of rambling about some new upgrade for Bucky’s arm when he abruptly stops mid-sentence.

His eyes narrow. “Hold on.”

Bucky tenses. “What?”

Tony steps closer, squinting at his arm. He lifts a finger and flicks one of the magnets, watching as it wobbles slightly before settling back into place.

“…Are you kidding me?”

Bucky groans. “Not you too.”

Tony bursts out laughing. “Oh, this is rich. You—you’ve been walking around like this? Just letting them stick things to you?”

“Yes,” Bucky says flatly.

Tony looks at you, still grinning. “You did this?”

You nod proudly. “Yep.”

He lets out an impressed whistle. “Wow. I gotta say, Barnes, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are you done?”

Tony pretends to consider. “Nope.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath and turns to leave, but before he can make his escape, Tony suddenly grabs a Stark Industries magnet from his workbench and slaps it onto Bucky’s bicep with a satisfied smirk.

Bucky glares at him. “I hate you.”

Tony winks. “No, you don’t.”

You snicker as Bucky stomps out of the lab, now sporting a Stark-branded magnet.

Despite the teasing, Bucky never takes them off right away.

Sometimes, you’ll catch him absentmindedly running his fingers over a sticker while he’s reading or training. Other times, you’ll see him glance down at his arm, something soft and unreadable in his expression before he quickly schools his face back into neutrality.

You don’t push. You don’t have to.

He lets you do this because he knows it makes you happy. Because he knows it makes you feel safe.

And, maybe—just maybe—because he doesn’t mind it as much as he pretends to.

The stickers—and now magnets—become a daily ritual.

At this point, everyone in the compound has noticed. Clint, predictably, laughs himself half to death when he first sees Bucky with a sparkly unicorn sticker on his wrist. Thor, on the other hand, is completely unbothered. He takes one look, nods approvingly, and later gifts you a set of Asgardian insignia stickers that you immediately slap onto Bucky’s arm. Even Bruce, who usually keeps to himself, quietly asks if he can contribute and hands you a little atom-shaped magnet one afternoon.

Bucky grumbles about it, of course. He sighs dramatically when you press another sticker onto his arm, acts like it’s the greatest inconvenience in the world, but he never actually stops you. He never pulls away. He never tells you no.

And he never takes them off until he’s alone.

You start paying attention, watching him when he thinks no one else is looking. He’ll be in the middle of a conversation, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the stickers on his forearm, tracing the edges. You notice that he doesn’t cover his arm as much anymore—not as often as he used to. Before, he wore long sleeves even in the middle of summer, like he couldn’t stand the sight of it. Now, he just lets it be.

That realization sits in the back of your mind for a long time.

Then, one day, you ask.

It’s late.

Most of the compound has already turned in for the night. The common room is quiet, dimly lit by the glow of the television, where some old black-and-white movie plays with the volume low. You’re curled up on the couch next to Bucky, a fresh pack of stickers in your lap.

You press a new one onto his arm—a tiny golden retriever wearing sunglasses—before hesitating.

“Hey, Buck?”

He glances down at you. “Yeah?”

You fidget slightly, turning the next sticker over in your hands. “…Why do you let me do this?”

Bucky blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that question. “Huh?”

You gesture vaguely to his arm, now covered in an assortment of colorful stickers and small magnets. “This. Why do you let me put them on you? You could’ve told me to stop. But you didn’t.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. His expression shifts—just a little—but you catch it. A flicker of something uncertain, something careful, like he’s picking his words before speaking.

Then, finally, he exhales.

“…Because it helps.”

You tilt your head. “Helps with what?”

Bucky glances down at his arm, his fingers skimming over the stickers.

“You know what this arm used to be,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “What it used to do.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

He swallows, his jaw tight. “For a long time, it felt like it didn’t belong to me. Like it was just…a weapon. A part of me that wasn’t really mine.” His fingers brush over the little cartoon raccoon you stuck near his wrist. “But then you started doing this. And…I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say immediately.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Maybe not. But it’s…different, now. When I look at it.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “When I see the stickers, I don’t think about the things I’ve done. I think about you. About Sam rolling his eyes, Nat sneaking magnets onto me, Steve acting like he doesn’t get it even though he does.” His voice softens. “I think about now. Not then.”

You don’t know when your eyes started burning, but suddenly, it’s hard to see. You swallow thickly, trying to blink away the sting.

“Oh,” you say, and it comes out smaller than you meant it to.

Bucky glances at you, eyes sharp. “Hey. Don’t cry on me, kid.”

“I’m not,” you lie, furiously rubbing at your eyes. “It’s just—you just said something really nice, and my dumb emotions weren’t prepared for it.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the guy covered in stickers,” you sniff, but you’re smiling now, even if your throat is still tight.

Bucky shakes his head, rolling his eyes, but there’s something softer in his expression when he looks at you.

“…Thanks, kid.”

You look up at him. “For what?”

He gestures vaguely at his arm. “This. The stickers. Everything.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just grab another sticker and carefully press it onto the back of his hand.

Bucky glances down at it. It’s a tiny heart.

He smiles.

I'm so sorry if this it's too short I didnt know what else to add :(

[swtblue]

Just a thought about Yunho fucking his best friend’s cute roommate. I hope you enjoy it🫶🏻

“You really thought he could make you feel this good? Are you sure that he could have satisfy you like I do?”.

With his massive length brushing your cervix in the swaying of his hips against yours and his deep voice in a whisper, Yunho made you squeeze him with the necessary force to bring out of his lungs the most pornographic breath you could have ever heard in your life. Your soft, already numb, sticky walls closed tightly around his cock in an instinctive attempt to squeeze all his deliciously addictive cum out of him.

And, although you were deeply lost in the ramming pace of his hips or the delighting feeling of his veiny, long cock demolishing your insides, those words he whispered in the sexiest low voice right in your ear kept echoing in the back of your head.

Was Mingi able to fuck you as good as Yunho?

It is true that your love interest was in your roommate for a long time but, after those fiery encounters with his best friend where you were only able to remember and pronounce his name while he covered you in a thin layer of sweat, saliva and cum to make you remember him for the rest of the day, you no longer knew if what you felt for Mingi could be called love. Everything you had dreamt about Mingi was automatically erased from your mind, giving way to the most sinful and lascivious thoughts with Yunho as the main character. It was as if the second one had cast a powerful spell on you, one that was consuming you day after day by a fever of desire for which only he seemed to have the cure.

Yunho made you lose your mind a long time ago in a deep, dark sea of lust and depravity in which you were gladly drowning more and more. With that perfect captivating lips, that electrifying touch with which he was able to make your skin crawl with just the touch of his fingertips, the incredible handling of his skilful tongue… how could anyone expect from you to not fall deeper and deeper into his charms?

“Let me give you the answer. No” Yunho said right into your ear in a cutting tone but strangely still sounding as pleasing as always “No one can, not will, make you feel as I do, princess”.

And probably he was right. How could any simple mortal be compared to such a perfect deity as Yunho? Because you had it more than clear. Yunho was a god on earth. How else could he have made you lose your reason in such a shameless way? He had swallowed you entirely, molding you at his will in an attempt to fill his insatiable desire.

“No other person but me in this world will worship you like this, princess”.

The eagerness with which he captures your lips with his in that sinful, burning dance while his hips never stop those rhythmic moves makes you choke in that overwhelming amount of passion with which he is showering you. A passion so strong that you almost can't handle it.

“Be mine, princess” he whispers against your lips, his voice short of breath after the kiss and the pleasure that runs through his body from where the two of you are connected “You are all I have ever dreamed of”.

[iregularlyevadetaxes]

sorry this is probably proving the point but i can't stop thinking about the reddit comment you posted where everyone in the notes was agreeing with "short women are weirdos about height." can sivi followers expand on that genuine question. being 4'11 and perceived as a 12 year old is like the bane of my existence so i complain about it all the time is this more annoying than i thought. i've seen people accuse short women of infantilizing themselves and acting like children on purpose when they're pursuing men which is what some of the notes seem to be saying… i'm not into men but i've been accused of acting like a child on purpose as well and it's kind of bizarre to me but maybe it's true for others (tbh i think it often is for straight women in general). can y'all explain

i'm not even that short (4'11 is what I would actually consider short) but have a smaller body frame and get some odd comments comparing me to a child. are there creeps like that? yes. is it the responsibility of smaller women to not "attract" them? I just don't care anymore. I like to wear cute/childish things because they make me happy and if someone's a creep over it that's their fucking problem. bitches can't even have whimsy now...SAD.

also I think a lot of people are projecting here wrt height because i've gotten oddly accusatory asks about height preferences when i've never even said anything about it. so by what means are we determining short women only like tall men? just seeing a couple like that, making the assumption, getting mad, and telling reddit about it? literally incel shit lmao

also

>tbh I think it often is for straight women in general

probably because a lot of romance media marketed to straight women tells them it's desirable to men. like look at older hollywood movies where a mid-20s model lusts over the main character who could be her dad's age. or all the plotlines where men leave older women for younger ones (notice this is really only 'a thing' in real life among egotistical celebrities, and guess who stars in and directs those movies?) anyway i'm the pattern noticer. i'm always noticing things. also I could write an essay on how a lot of what we identify as pedophilia is a result of social engineering and not innate sexuality. and no, I am not saying this in a right wing "teachers are grooming kids to be WOKE!!" way, i'm saying any patriarchal society includes subordination of women and children and that is something that needs to be drilled into your brain at some point because you don't accept it by default. just like any social injustice really--you will follow the narrative or you'll be violently corrected. ok this post got kinda dark but it IS a topic I enjoy analyzing, in part to answer questions I have about my own experiences. and yes, I could absolutely explain why my political opinions and what i'm attracted to seem contradictory. do not even try because if something exists I will manage to connect it to politics

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

perfectly imperfect.

summary: steve harrington comes into your campus workplace and flirts with you every chance he gets. after months of turning him down, you finally give in and decide to give him a try. after all, he’s the hottest ticket on campus among the girls, so there has to be something to it. right? 

word count: 3.5k

warnings/notes: smut, breast play, oral sex (brief; f receiving), grinding, handjob, premature ejaculation, catching feelings 

a/n: this is a college au with steve, based on a dream i had! i’m thinking he’s probably right around the age he was in season 4, so that would make him around 19-20 in this fic. as always, reader is 18+ and sorry if anything like this has been done before! i don’t have time to read fic much anymore, so i don’t know what is out there. i hope y’all enjoy!

also shoutout to my bestie @andvys for suggesting I write this dream as a one shot! ily and thank you for everything 🥺

_____

“what would you recommend, babe?”

you had to suppress an eye roll at the nickname. it was nothing new with steve harrington; every time he walked into the cafe where you worked, it was always the same old song and dance. he would walk in, smile at you, flirt, ask what you recommended, and would eat or drink it while sneaking the occasional glance at you. he was a blessing and a curse that you just couldn’t escape, not even outside of work. you had two classes with him–World History and Foundations Mathematics–and he would try to chat you up then, too. you knew his reputation around campus wasn’t a very good one; he was quite the player, apparently. you overheard girls talking about him at work and in class, talking about the time they had with him and how he never called or spoke much to them when he was done. you weren’t about that sort of life, but you had to admit you were growing curious about him. he had to be good if he was getting around and getting a reputation; the girls never said he was terrible. in fact, the opposite was true. you had been on many dates since you started going to college two years ago, but nothing ever stuck. you were mostly having flings yourself, but at least you let those down easily and didn’t just leave them hanging like he did. 

“i recommend what i always do every time you come in here,” you said. “the scones are good today; get one of those.”

“i think i have an appetite for something else,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “i think i want to experience something a little sweeter.”

“you think you’re really smooth, don’t you?” you asked, chuckling. “do you realize how many guys come in with the same line every day?”

“damn, i’ve got competition?” he asked, shaking his head. “here i thought i was special.”

“oh, you’re special, all right,” you said, grabbing a scone and putting it on a paper plate. “i don’t think you realize just how special you are.”

“well, that’s a relief,” steve said, digging in his pockets for money. “i really wish you’d go out with me, though.”

“why?” you asked. “so you could fuck me and leave me, like you do all the rest?”

he shook his head. “no, it would be different with you. you’re different.”

you laughed, shaking your own head. “how many women have you used that line on?”

“come on, harrington,” someone said from behind him. “i want my coffee.”

“just a minute,” he said, leaning in close to you. “one date. we don’t even have to have sex, if that isn’t what you want. just give me a chance.”

you eyed the line behind him, and knew there was no getting out of it this time. he wasn’t going to let up until you gave in, apparently. you sighed, rolling your eyes before meeting his. “fine. one date and i’m calling the shots.”

“thank you,” he said. “that’s all i wanted.”

“yeah, i’m sure,” you said. “it’s two dollars for the scone.”

he handed you two one dollar bills and a ten. “a little tip for you, babe.”

you went to hand it back, but he was already gone, the line moving forward as you were forced to be professional yet again.

****

the night of the date came faster than you wanted. he had pestered you about it every day in class and at work, until you finally set it for the following friday night. you were off work and didn’t have many classes that day, so you thought it would be perfect. it would give you a chance to get ready, to prepare yourself, and to brace for what might happen. you’d been giving it a lot of thought since he’d asked, and you decided that maybe you wanted to sleep with him, after all. you would see how the date went first, of course, but you had no reason to expect that it would be bad. steve seemed like a decent enough guy; he was just a playboy. most men his age were, though, especially college frat boys, so you didn’t know what else you honestly expected. 

you spent most of the afternoon working on yourself, and when the date finally came, he came to your room to pick you up. he couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful you looked, and you had to admit that he looked handsome, too. he was wearing a light blue button-up shirt that was done up to just below his neck, showing off a spray of chest hair underneath and accenting his muscular arms. he wore blue jeans that were nice and not torn, brown dress shoes, and his hair was done up in its usual fashion. he looked damn good; even you had to admit that. you followed him as he walked, and he offered you his arm after a little bit. you took it, feeling your heart flutter as you did so. you had already decided, upon seeing him, that you were going to sleep with him. you couldn’t wait to break the news to him at the end of the night.

he took you to a nice restaurant just off campus, an classy little italian place that served the best food. you’d been there a few times, but never on a date. steve paid for everything, and when you were both walking back to campus, you decided to spring the news on him. you stopped walking and he did, too, giving you a puzzled look. you just smiled at him, hugging yourself for a moment before walking over and standing directly in front of him.

“so i made a decision,” you said. “one that i think you’re going to like.”

“what decision is that?” he asked.

“i think i wanna sleep with you tonight,” you said. “if you’re up for it, i mean.”

“i’m always up for that,” he said with a chuckle. “but why the sudden change of heart? you seemed pretty adamant to not sleep with me before now.”

you shrugged. “i guess i couldn’t live with myself if i passed up on steve harrington.”

he laughed. “well, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i passed up the most beautiful girl on campus, either.”

your cheeks heated at that, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze. “so…it’s on, then?”

“it’s on,” he said. “where should we go? my roommate is out with his girlfriend tonight, so my room might be the best bet.”

“okay,” you said. “let’s go there, then.” 

he walked you to his dorm building and up to his room, which was, in fact, empty. it was a little messy, with clothes strewn about the floor, fast food wrappers on the desks, beer bottles hidden not-so-skillfully under the two beds, and posters of half-naked women adorning the walls. you had to resist rolling your eyes for the millionth time; it was such a typical guy room that it was almost hilarious. steve walked over to the bed on the right, sitting down and gesturing for you to do the same. he kicked off his shoes and you did the same, taking a seat next to him as he turned to face you.

“is it bad that i’m a little nervous?” he asked.

you looked at him, shocked. “you, nervous? why would you be nervous?”

he shrugged. “i don’t know. i guess because i’m not used to being with a beautiful woman like you.”

“yeah, and how many girls have heard that?”

“come on, i’m being serious.”

“so am i.”

“i’ve never really used that on someone. you’re the first.”

“wow, i feel special.”

he put one finger under your chin, tilting your head toward him. “you are special, though. at least you are to me.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said. “are we doing this or not?”

“yeah,” he said, drawing you in closer. “come here.”

he put his lips to yours, kissing you gently at first. it stayed like that for a little bit, his lips working softly against yours as you followed his lead. soon, though, he was kissing you a little harder, his tongue pressing between your lips as they met. he mewled softly, grabbing your hips and pulling you into his lap. you straddled him, cupping his face as he kissed you more heavily. you whined, kissing him deeper as he began bucking his hips into yours. you picked up on his cue, grinding against him as you continued to make out. he groaned, grabbing your ass and guiding your movements. you moaned as well, continuing to move on him as he kissed you harder.

“fuck,” he said against your lips. “that feels so good.”

“you’re already getting hard,” you observed. “i can feel it.”

“i can’t help it,” he said. “you just have that effect on me.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, smirking at him as you leaned down to kiss his neck. “well, i feel pretty flattered, then.”

“i really wanna get your clothes off,” he said, tilting his head back to give you more room. “can i?”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “not yet. i wanna keep doing this for a little bit first.”

“you’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he asked with a groan. 

you nodded. “that’s right.”

“you’re such a tease,” he said. “but that’s okay, i like it.”

“oh you do, huh?” you asked, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

“hey, i thought you said we had to wait.”

“i said you had to wait. i didn’t say anything about me.”

“that hardly seems fair.”

“i’m the one calling the shots here tonight, remember?”

that quieted him, and he mumbled a word of permission. you giggled, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing him back on the bed. you started kissing down the middle of his chest, down his stomach to the top of his jeans, and then slowly back up. his breathing was slightly heavier as you worked on him, and he drew you in for a passionate kiss as you came back up. he pulled you on top of him again, where you resumed grinding him for the moment. his hands squeezed your ass, kneading the flesh there as you rocked against him. you whined, moving a little faster as he gasped against your lips.

“you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep doing that,” he said. “please, can i take your clothes off?”

you giggled, nodding. “fine. but not the bra or the panties yet.”

he eagerly removed your shirt and pants, discarding them to the floor with the rest of the clothes. he studied your body with hungry eyes, his pupils enlarging as he took in every detail. you couldn’t help but flush under his gaze, your cheeks hot as he studied you. you pushed him back down, kissing him hungrily, your hips moving again as he slapped your ass. you laughed against his lips and you could feel him smiling, so you kept going. after a minute, steve’s hands found the back of your bra, playing with the clasp. you smiled, knowing that you’d tormented him enough, and you drew back to grin at him.

“you can take it off now,” you said.

“i can?” he asked.

“yep,” you said. “go ahead.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. he practically ripped the garments from your body, taking in every detail of your body as he did so. he licked his lips as he studied you, his eyes moving from head to toe and back again. your cheeks turned hot under his gaze, and you reached out to pull him closer. he went easily, his body pressed flush to yours as you chuckled.

“I think it’s your turn now,” you said. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

he nodded, hastily doing away with his clothes. as he did to you, you observed him from top to bottom, your eyes remaining glued on his cock. he was bigger than you expected, with good girth and even better length. a large vein ran up the underside, and his tip was pink and already oozing precum. you reached out to stroke him, and his lashes fluttered as he moaned under your touch. he looked at you with heavy eyes, his lips parted as his cheeks began to flush. you smirked at him, flicking your wrist as his body jerked slightly.

“who has the power now, huh?” you asked.

“you do,” he said, rutting into your hand. “god..”

“you know what I want you to do?” you asked.

“anything,” he said. “i’ll do anything you want.”

“i want you to eat me out,” you said.

“can i?” he asked. “please?”

“mmm hmm,” you said. “go ahead.”

steve turned you over so that you were lying flat on his bed. he kissed your neck, stopping at your breasts to give them some attention. he kissed over each one, sucking one nipple feverishly as he rubbed the other with his fingers. you moaned softly, grabbing his hair and giving it a slight tug as he, too, moaned. you giggled, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to work. he shivered, his eyes trailing up to look at you as he sucked your nipple a bit harder. you arched your back, bucking your hips impatiently as he trailed one hand down your body. he ran his fingers over your clit, barely ghosting it as you gasped. he smirked against your skin, his fingers ghosting your folds next. you wanted to slap him for being such a tease, but it felt so good that you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

“you’re so hot,” he said, his hands coming up to squeeze your breasts. he moaned as he watched your nipples harden even more, his thumbs circling them. “the hottest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“oh yeah?” you asked, whining as he started kissing his way down your body. “am i hotter than all those other girls you’ve been with, or did you use that line on them, too?”

“no, just you,” he said, winking up at you as he knelt between your legs. “i swear it’s just you. i told you, you’re different.”

you wanted to roll your eyes, but you didn’t. you were curious as to what he would be like, and now wasn’t the time to offend him or piss him off. you would take him at his word for now; it’s all you could do. you watched as he kissed your inner thighs, painfully slow, and as he kissed around your mound, also painfully slow. he was kissing anywhere and everywhere but where you really wanted him, and you almost pushed his head there. but you didn’t want to do that, so you waited, letting him get it out of his system. he did it again, a little faster, and then finally he was right where you wanted him.

his mouth felt like heaven, and it was a feeling that you’d never felt before with anyone else. his tongue was like velvet, wet and soft and perfect. he lapped at your folds lazily, using the tip of his tongue at first to tease you further. you moaned, sitting up on your elbows to watch him as he looked up at you. he groaned as he pressed his full tongue against you, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit and then back down. he did the same motion a few times, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. you arched, falling back on the bed and writhing as he sucked harder.

‘steve…” you moaned. “that feels so good.”

“oh yeah?” he asked, and you could feel him smirking against you. “you think it feels pretty good, huh?”

“yeah,” you said. “you’re good at this.”

his smirk widened, and soon he was fucking you on his tongue. he replaced that with his fingers after a few minutes, paying attention to your clit as he sucked again. his tongue swirled the small bud, moaning against it to add vibration. you gasped and bucked your hips, feeling the tightness beginning to settle in your lower stomach. you didn’t think you’d be so close already, but it had been awhile since you’d gotten off–with yourself or with anyone else. you were pent up, and it was about to come to a head very soon.

“i’m close already,” you told him. “please keep going.”

“already, huh?” he asked, grinning up at you.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said. “it’s just been awhile.”

“sure,” he said, winking at you. “i’ll take your word for it.”

he kept going, fucking you harder on his fingers and sucking your clit harder. he shook his head back and forth, his eyes on you as he kept going. it only took a few more minutes before you were falling apart, cumming hard as you cried out his name. he kept going as you experienced your high, going slower and more gentle, watching as you arched your back, writhed, and tugged at his hair. he moaned, stopping once you came down from your high. he sat back and looked at you, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was proud of himself for what he’d just done.

“that’s a first,” he said. “usually i have to go for twenty minutes.”

“you poor thing,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “how ever will you survive?”

he chuckled, kissing his way back up your body. “you’re so sassy. i love it.”

“come here,” you said. “i wanna pretend to ride you.”

“pretend?” steve asked. “why not do it?”

“because i wanna make you work for it, that’s why,” you said, smirking at him. 

“but i’m about to burst already,” he nearly whined.

“now who’s the one who might cum too soon?” you teased. “come here.”

he lay back on the bed, tucking his arms behind his head. “okay, babe. i’m here. do whatever you want to me.”

you straddled him, positioning yourself over his erection. you began to grind against it, moaning at the heavy, throbbing feeling of him against you. he hissed, his hands coming out to grab at your hips. you kept going, gliding along him at a steady pace as he looked up at you. he leaned up after a few minutes and started sucking at your nipples, lying back against the pillows and pulling you with him after a moment. you moaned, biting your lip as you started moving a little faster.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he said, and you could tell that he was right. he was twitching, his cock throbbing against you as you continued to glide. “please.”

you giggled, getting off of him and taking his cock into your hand. “tell me what you want.”

“I—“ he began, but it was soon over. he came all over your hand, his body in spasms as he bucked into your hand. he squeezed his eyes shut, digging the heels of his hands into them as he came down from his high. “fuck, I knew that was gonna happen.”

you chuckled, holding your hand up to your mouth. “look at me, steve.”

he did so, looking at you with heavy eyes. you started licking the cum off of your hand, making eye contact with him as you did so. he moaned as he watched, and pulled you down for a kiss after you were done. you lay next to him, snuggling against him as he held you close. it was silent, save for steve’s heavy breathing, and you opened your mouth to say something. he beat you to it.

“wow,” he said. “i never…that’s never happened to me before.”

“no?” you asked. “never? not once?”

“no,” he said, shaking his head. “i think it’s because i like you so much.”

you looked up at him. “you do?”

“I do,” he said. “you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, y/n. i think I wanna keep you.”

you smile at him, leaning up to kiss him. “you wanna know something?”

“what?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your eyes.

you kissed him again, a bit more passionately. “I think i wanna keep you, too.” 

—

taglist: @andvys @littledemondani @etherealxwitch @eddieschains @happylilthought @trashmouth-richie @eiightysixbaby @thisbrokencapulet @sunkillerencoder @thatredlipped-classic

[sevenmerrymagpies]

Potato Chip

Happy Valentine's Day to the couple walking back to their place tonight carrying bags of potato chips. You inspired me.

Steve gets Eddie the wrong Valentine's Day gift.

Smoking weed and blow jobs under the cut.

Potato Chip

It probably wasn't the best time to ask, but Steve was baked, and no one here would care. It wasn't like they all didn't know already, anyway. Steve was already pressed against Eddie, from his little toe all the way up his leg and hip, tangling their arms together and bumping shoulders as they wrestled for space on the couch together. 

Eddie toked and held the blunt for Steve, who obliged by taking his own toke, before he leaned over Steve - grabbing a grope with his hidden hand - as he passed the blunt to Argyle. As Eddie withdrew, Steve whispered, "What do you wanna do for Valentine's Day."

It was a bad time to ask, and like a month out, but Steve hadn't celebrated a Valentine's Day with a dude before, and he was kind of excited about it. Plus, this was his first Valentine's Day since 1984, which didn't make him feel kind of pathetic. He always had a date, but fuck if a second date with a girl who could barely stand him but wanted to see if the rumors about his big dick were true was only one step up from being single. And only because he got laid.

So, it didn't matter if it was a bad time to ask. What mattered was that it was on his mind, and he was too stoned to think it through. 

Eddie, though, Eddie was maybe just too stoned. "Potato chip."

"What?" Steve asked. If Eddie wanted potato chips, he could do that, but he wasn't sure exactly what that meant? 

"What?" Eddie asked as if he finally realized Steve was talking to him.

"What?" Jon asked from where he was lying on the floor. 

"Who?" Argyle laughed. "I've heard this sketch before."

Nancy giggled from where she was lying down between Argyle, who was half-draped on the couch, and Jon on the floor. "Who."

"Like an owl," Argyle agreed before he started hooting like an owl. 

"Doctor?" Robin asked at the same time.

"Oh, Will watches that on PBS," Jon said. 

Argyle continued to hoot.

"I think this conversation is going over my head," Steve admitted.

"I'm hungry," Eddie said. "I'm raiding the kitchen."

"Bring back chips," Robin called out over Argyle, Jon, and Nancy, hooting at each other.

"Yeah, duh." 

+++

Steve only realized as he was walking with Eddie into his house that perhaps, just maybe, he should have asked again. Or thought about it more? 

"I brought the good stuff," Eddie said as he kicked off his shoes before he wandered into the house towards the den. 

"The good stuff?" Steve asked, not really paying attention because he was suddenly very unsure about his plans for their evening.

"California weed from Argyle?" Eddie asked, turning around.

"Is that a question?"

"It is now, I thought the plan was to get high, make out, and crash here? I already let Wayne know I'm staying the night? I thought the plan was I'm bringing the weed, and you were supplying the lube?"

"Did we talk about this?" Steve asked worried that he was starting to forget whole conversations. Maybe Robin was right, and those concussions really were going to have a lasting impact on his brain.

"Uh, of course-"Eddie trailed off as his eyes widened. "Uh, I thought that- But now I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure my thoughts stayed thoughts, and I never answered your question?"

"My question?"

"What I wanted to do for Valentine's Day. You asked, like, last month."

"You told me this?"

"I'm not so sure that I did."

"Because you told me something, but-"

"I told you something?"

"Uh, why don't you come into the kitchen and see for yourself?"

Eddie blinked a few times before he dashed off to the kitchen, Steve scrambling to keep up behind him. 

"What the?" Eddie shouted as Steve rounded the corner to the kitchen.

"Surprise!" Steve tried to bring enthusiasm to his voice, but he was seriously doubting himself right now.

"What is all this?" Eddie asked, gesturing to the kitchen island. 

Steve had decked out the island with three large bowls of chips. One plain, one sour cream and chive (Eddie's favorite), and the final was a crinkle cut. Steve had prevaricated on that choice a lot. Should he get a third flavor like BBQ? Or should it all be plain chips to compliment the dips? But not getting Eddie his favorite wasn't a good idea. So he compromised and got Eddie's favorite and two plain ones in different textures. 

God, he probably overthought something so stupid. 

He'd also made a handful of dips. Onion dip, of course. Then there was a homemade ranch he made with buttermilk - he now had so much buttermilk in his fridge that he had to figure out how to finish. There was a veggie dip that Robin really liked. It was green and almost like having a vegetable. Healthyish. Then, finally, there was millionaire dip - an old family favorite with bacon, cheddar, and chive. 

"Uh. Ta-da!" Steve said, his voice fading. "Potato chip feast!"

"Is this for us?"

"Technically, it's for you because you asked for potato chips?"

"Potato chips?" Eddie said, finally turning to Steve and stalking towards him. 

"You said, and I quote, 'potato chip'."

"Nothing about lube?" Eddie asked, getting up in Steve's space and pushing him back into the hallway wall. 

"Uh, nope. I mean, I have some upstairs, but I didn't get anything special."

"You just got me-"

"Potato chip. Yup."

Eddie's confused expression broke like dawn as he loomed over Steve, slumped against the wall, looking up at his boyfriend. "You made me a potato chip feast because I was so high that I told you 'potato chip' and didn't tell you what I actually wanted?"

Steve sighed. "I know I should have-"

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," Eddie said as he held up his finger against Steve's lips. "This is amazing, and I'm getting the feeling that you don't realize how amazing it is."

"But this isn't even-"

"No, this is better. We can get shit-faced and feast. No, wait. We can fuck and then get shit-faced and feast." Eddie said as he lowered himself to his knees.

"Uh," Steve said, still not having caught up with Eddie.  It didn't matter, though, because Eddie pulled out Steve's half-hard dick and swallowed it down. "Oh, shit."

Eddie hummed as he worked his mouth up and down Steve's rapidly hardening shaft. 

"I guess," Steve breathed out and worked to keep his hips still. "You like your gift."

Eddie's response was to pull Steve's balls out and fondle them, which always made Steve's knees melt. 

"Fuck, Eddie."

Eddie didn't respond; he just kept sucking Steve's brain out of his dick until he couldn't think straight. He didn't last long, couldn't like this. Steve came with a grunt, and Eddie swallowed every last drop.

Steve was still stupid from how quickly Eddie had worked him over. Eddie tucked Steve back in his pants before he stood up and kissed Steve. A hint of the bleachy taste of his spunk was on Eddie's lips. Shit, did that get him going. 

"Let's take this upstairs, huh?" Eddie said. "You got that lube, right?"

"Yeah," Steve breathed out, letting Eddie drag him upstairs. "Yeah, I have lube."

"And the dips will keep?"

Steve blinked. "Uh, for a bit. Sure."

"Cool. I don't think I'm gonna last long tonight, anyway. We can do something more elaborate tomorrow. Now let's go celebrate Valentine's Day."

[reccyls]

The Robin Who Grazed the Reaper’s Secret Eagerly Awaits His Words (Part 1)

My translation of Victor's 2025 birthday story!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue (Victor's POV)

---

The middle of February was approaching.

(He asked me to come to a different room instead of the lounge, I wonder what this is about.)

William had called for me, so I made my way towards one of the castle’s rooms.

(It didn’t sound like anything serious, though.)

Arriving at the designated room, I knocked on the door.

Kate: William, it’s Kate.

William: Come in.

William was elegantly sipping some tea while seated as I entered.

Kate: Sorry to keep you waiting.

William: I haven’t been waiting for that long. Don’t worry about it.

I nervously sat on the chair opposite of William.

William: I’ve called you today to discuss none other than Victor.

Kate: Wait, do you mean–

Catching onto what he was implying, I sat up straighter.

William: That’s right, it’s about his birthday.

This coming 20th of February was Victor’s birthday.

(I couldn’t celebrate properly last year, because I only found out it was his birthday the day after.)

–flashback– Victor: Yesterday was my birthday. Kate: …Huh? Kate: HUH!?? –end flashback–

I’d resolved to celebrate his birthday on the actual day itself next year, and that day was quickly approaching.

William: I know you’ve been thinking hard about how to celebrate this year, so I thought we could work together.

Kate: William…

I was happy to have such a strong ally in my quest.

William: As we both know, our hardworking queen’s aide doesn’t take any time off. William: Not even for his own birthday.

With an amused smile, William put forth a proposal.

William: So why not force him to take a break?

Kate: What?

He passed me a stack of papers. Confused, I glanced over them, seeing that it was a mission report.

Kate: This is… the report from your investigation the other day, isn’t it? Kate: It says the mission was completed without any problems.

William: The mission is over, true. I just haven’t submitted the report yet.

Kate: But why–

William: I was thinking of adding a recommendation to this report. I think that the queen’s aide should go inspect this site personally.

Kate: So that means…

William: What a keen little robin.

With a satisfied, mischievous grin, William picked up a pen and scribbled in a line at the end of the report.

William: On Victor’s birthday, we’ll send him on a fake mission to force him to take some time off. William: However, if we left it at just that, he’d probably suspect something was going on. That’s where you come in.

Kate: Right.

William: Join him on this fake assignment and discreetly make sure he gets some rest. William: This is a mission only you can complete. Will you accept?

Seeing William’s sly smirk, I felt my own mouth quirking into a smile.

Kate: Leave it to me!

And so began the plan to get Victor to rest and relax for his birthday.

...

Victor: Kate, what’s the matter?

Kate: N-Nothing!

It was now the day of Victor’s birthday. I couldn’t help but fret about keeping the plan secret.

(I have to be really careful not to let anything show on my face.) (But how much can I really fool Victor… he’s really observant…)

We were in a small suburban town close to London. Walking side by side with Victor, I ran over William’s plan in my head.

(It’s good that we were able to plan together until the last minute.)

William wasn’t with us today, but he’d placed the order for the cake and food, along with helping out with a lot of other small details.

(He said, “I leave the rest to you,” so that means I need to do my best!)

I was filled with a renewed determination to carry out my part to get Victor to rest.

Victor: You look like you’re raring to go today.

Kate: Well, it’s been so long since we were on a mission together.

My heart began to pick up, and my next words left me in a rush.

(But, none of it is a lie.)

Kate: Even if it’s just for a mission, I’m really happy we can spend time together like this.

Victor was always so busy. So even being able to do something simple like this was enough to lift my mood.

Victor: I hardly ever get the chance to leave London. So even if it is just a mission, I’m glad for the opportunity. Victor: The fact that it’s with you just makes it all the better.

Stopping in the street, Victor extended a hand towards me while bowing his head slightly in my direction.

Victor: Shall we make the most of this chance?

Victor smiled happily.

Victor: For the whole day, as much as possible, I’d like it if you didn’t let go of my hand.

Equally surprised and pleased by Victor’s words, I felt my mouth curving into a smile. My own hand reached out.

Kate: Gladly.

Our hands overlapped, palm to palm.

Victor: Let’s set off, my dearest robin.

[sanguineterrain]

the worst day of february | jason todd

Summary: Cold and defeated on the worst day of February, you stand on your apartment rooftop, contemplating giving up. Then the Red Hood drops in and makes you tea in your apartment.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2k

Warnings/tags: suicidal ideation, disordered eating and sleeping habits, depression, reader doesn't attempt suicide but thinks about it a lot. a sort of hopeful ending. jason being a really really good guy.

please take care of yourselves - don't read this if you think it'll upset you.

divider

One day in February—it doesn't matter which day; it might be someone else's day too, but it doesn't matter, and it doesn't matter which February either—you realize that you've forgotten how to be happy.

When you think of February, you don't think of much, except that on those big visual calendars of the months that they put up in kindergarten, February is always pink. Pink like an organ. Pink like guts. Pink like love.

But your February—all the Februarys you've had—is blue-gray. It's like someone's cast a moody shadow over your February. It's the director's choice, clearly, to light your February like you're at a wake. It's not your choice. It's never your choice.

Here is the problem. The problem is that you're too scared, but you want the attention of someone who's killed themselves. Shame digs its claws into you at such a perverse thought. But it's true. Even if it's one person who takes a moment to inspect your guts on the sidewalk, or your body in the bathtub, you want them to hold your rigor mortis and say, what a loss. Is there anything I can do?

And then you'd pop up from the bathwater and say, why yes, there is something you can do, would you mind changing the lighting? It's bringing me down.

You're on the roof of your apartment. You don't know why, because as stated, you're too scared. And it's nighttime, and you're a speck of dust, which is comforting at times and haunting at others. Dust on a roof. Easy to be carried off by the wind.

You don't want to die, exactly. You want to rest. No amount of sleep destroys the exhaustion. Instead of marrow in your bones, it's the desire for rest that only comes through death. Unfortunately, despite not wanting to die, death seems to be your only path.

His footsteps are quiet. You don't realize that you're not alone until he's there next to you, hunched over the ledge on his elbows.

You flinch.

"Sorry," Red Hood says, and there's no smoky breath that accompanies his words like they accompany everyone else's. You wonder where the air from his helmet's filter goes.

"It's fine," you say, even though your nervous system is still reeling. It's not fine, because you hate being scared, but it also doesn't matter, so it's fine in that way.

You have a great view from the city up here but appreciating the city is difficult when it's all blue-gray shadows. Your stomach hurts. You've never felt more unbearably yourself in your life.

"Everything okay?" Hood asks.

"Yeah," you say, not bothering to lie. Not bothering to tell the truth either.

"'S cold up here."

"I'm not gonna jump."

"Didn't say you would," Hood says mildly.

"That's why you're here. You think I'll jump, and it's your duty to make sure I don't. But I won't. Too scared. I just wallow instead."

"Wallowing ain't so good either."

"Yeah," you say, throat hurting like you've swallowed a splinter. "Probably not."

An audience would see your funeral-lit life and make the obvious prediction that something bad is about to happen. The director is telling a story, and he's giving hints. You, as the protagonist, are expecting bad things too. Perhaps this is where it starts.

"You live here?" Hood asks.

There should be a curl of fear that strikes you, because Red Hood—terrifying, gangster, born and bred Gotham Red Hood—shouldn't be landing on your rooftop and checking to make sure you aren't gonna spill your guts.

He doesn't seem so terrifying, though. He doesn't seem like a gangster either. And what's wrong with being born and bred Gotham? You like it. Hood is familiar even though you've never met him before. Something about his voice, his stance, the fact that he gives a shit enough to talk to you for a minute. It feels like maybe the universe doesn't want you to kill yourself right then.

"I live here," you say, taking too long to answer.

"Alright," he says. "Lead the way."

You look at him. He's turned around now, facing the roof access door.

"What?"

Hood points a thumb at the door. "Let's go to your place."

"Why?" Why, you ask, instead of the fuck?

"'M thirsty," he says.

Well, if he's here to assassinate you, it won't matter if you bring him to your apartment or not. And now that he's mentioned it, it is cold. Probably because you're up here without a coat. A coat hadn't seemed important when you were in your apartment choking on stale black air.

Maybe you should warn Hood about the stale black air. But you feel like he won't let you return to your apartment if you do.

Hood goes first, leading you back inside. He goes down the stairs slowly, letting you drag and set the pace. It's so stupid. You feel like crying. Why is he going down the stairs with you at your stupid slow pace?

You stop two floors down. This would be another hint to your audience, the fact that you're so close to the roof that you can just climb a couple flights.

You open your apartment. You'd left it unlocked.

"Do you often leave your place unlocked?" Hood asks.

You shrug. "I don't go out enough to get the chance."

Hood doesn't say anything else but he does do the deadbolt when you're inside, as well as the chain lock.

"Shoes off?" he asks. You nod. You both remove your shoes.

Then you stand like you're not in your own apartment. Hood herds you like a sheepdog to your tiny kitchen table. Then he starts opening cabinet doors.

"Got a kettle?" he asks.

You stare at the back of his helmet, your eyebrows knitting. "A kettle? How many Gothamites do you know own kettles?"

"It's the only dignified way to make tea," he says.

Maybe Hood isn't so born and bred Gotham. "Were you raised by British monarchs?"

"Kinda," he says. He evidently gives up on finding a kettle and instead puts water to boil on the stove, even though you have a microwave. Weirdo.

Suddenly, you realize you haven't thought about death for a whole five minutes.

"Got any decaffeinated tea?" Hood asks.

You have a barely opened box of Sleepytime. You point at the top shelf. He hums and retrieves the box, taking out three tea bags to drop into the boiling water.

Hood takes out two mugs. He's surprisingly apt at navigating an unfamiliar kitchen.

He gives you your mug and sits across from you at the table. He's huge at your table, but he gracefully crosses his legs despite the limited space.

"Didja eat?" he asks.

"I had some cereal a few hours ago," you say.

Hood nods. "Fine. But you gotta eat real dinner too."

You don't think it really matters what a corpse-in-training eats, but you nod anyway. Hood's tone invites no deliberation.

"What's your favorite food? Drink your tea."

You scrunch your face and take a hesitant sip. The hot liquid burns your tongue for a moment before you swallow.

"I like pizza," you say. "And burgers. And ramen. But lately, everything tastes like nothing."

You'd tried to find joy in food a few days ago because you couldn't find it anywhere else. You'd torn open a pack of Swedish Fish and shoved the box into your drawer after eating two pieces because it'd tasted like melted plastic to you.

Then you'd bought an expensive brand of chocolate bar, desperate to be happy, desperate to be flooded with dopamine. Nothing. You'd tossed the chocolate, feeling distinctly broken. What monster doesn't find joy in their favorite candy?

You only eat to cure the hunger pains, because you can't take anymore pain. You eat to survive. Not because you want to, but because dying by starvation takes too long.

"That's okay," Hood says. "'S good you're eating."

You scoff. "I don't need consolation."

Hood doesn't give you the satisfaction of an argument. He's going to make you feel alive in a gentler way, even though you don't deserve it. "Drink your tea."

You drink. His mug remains untouched. You feel like you're in a play. This isn't even real tea, it's just colored water. And Hood's stage direction is to not drink his colored water. It's just for show.

You look out the window, expecting to make eye contact with an audience member. You're waiting for the second act. You're waiting for the end.

"I don't want anymore," you say when your mug is half-finished. Trying to finish the tea feels like prolonging the inevitable. The audience wants to go home. They have lives to get back to. They can't live with you and the stage forever.

To your surprise, Hood nods. "Okay. C'mon."

He stands up from the table. You follow him to your bedroom. He pulls open your shirt drawer. You notice the two guns strapped to his hips, two strapped to his ankles, and one bigger gun on his back. You wait for the director's guidance on how you should feel. None comes, so you remain apathetic.

"Choose a shirt," he says. You pick a plain pink t-shirt. Hood closes that drawer and opens your pants drawer. "Choose."

You take a pair of worn pajama shorts because you overheat when you sleep, especially when you're depressed. You're sweaty from your lie-in till two that you took earlier today. Your face is greasy. You're sure your hair isn't nice either.

"Go change," Hood says, walking out of your room. "I'll be outside." He closes the door behind him.

You change, if only out of shock of the Red Hood giving you orders.

"Done," you say, probably too quiet for anyone to hear. But Hood comes in. He looks you over.

"Good." He points to the bed. "Lie down."

You do. Your sheets are gross. They haven't been changed in at least a few months. You're suddenly swollen with shame that anyone, even the Red Hood, is seeing you in this state. Your eyes fill with stinging tears. You should've died before it came to this.

"I'm sorry you had to stop to do this," you say.

Hood's silent for a moment. Then he walks to your side of the bed. He crouches down. His helmet eyes glow in the dark. You've never been less afraid.

This is a plot twist you did not foresee. A new character. A guardian angel. Red in your blue-gray.

"'S not always gonna feel like this," he says.

More tears, more splinters in your throat. "It's felt like this for so long."

"Yeah," he says gently. Gentler than you fucking deserve. "I know."

The writer has overridden the director's wants, and has introduced some new foreshadowing. Should your audience believe it? Or is this a fake-out?

You lie back and want to die a little less. One young woman in your audience chokes up. She believes that you believe you’ll live. She will stay here for as long as it takes for you to make it through act two.

"If you have to go, it's okay," you say.

Hood settles against the wall near your bed. He pulls one knee against his chest. It's almost like you have a friend.

"Nah," he says. "I don't have anywhere to be. I finished my patrol. I'll stay till you fall asleep."

He doesn't ask to stay, and that feels good, not having to make the choice, to face the shame of wanting another person to care about you.

You screw your eyes shut. "Thank you," you whisper.

"I'm gonna bring you a kettle," Hood says.

You laugh. It's small and brittle but it's real. "Okay." You'll have to make it through the night. Red Hood is bringing you a kettle.

You lay there for a long time, not sleeping. You keep your eyes closed. You focus on keeping your breathing even. Then you open your eyes to check.

Hood is still there, sitting against the wall. You wonder if he's fallen asleep too. His voice startles you.

"Still here," he says. "Said I wouldn't go till you sleep. Meant it. Don't worry."

Maybe tomorrow's sun won't be so blue or gray. You fall asleep.

[nightbutterfly09]

Valentines day 

(btw those who get flowers I recommend getting yourself invested in flower language, I probably spent most of my time on researching this lol) (also, I may be biased [is that surprising?] So Sae might get two scenarios sometime later.. we’ll see, if you want one for the other pls share your ideas and tell me about them!) Keep in mind: Valentine’s day is celebrated differently around the world. In this I made that quite obvious but it’s always written there.

Sae Itoshi:        

/small piece of info: he also gives gifts on Valentine’s day so it’s not entirely like the Japanese customs/

He was a busy man, and naturally the world was against you two spending time on this special occasion. He had another long training day and they didn't take no for an answer, not even if he made sure he was free today days before. 

By the time you heard the front door of your luxurious apartment open it was already 8pm. Everything you wanted to do went out in the trash.

There you were sitting on the barstool sipping on some warm tea on this chilly February night.

You were engrossed in your phone but weren't into it in particular. Your mind was everywhere except for the article you were reading.

Sae knew he f-ed up. Although he really couldn't do anything about it. It isn't in his hands when he is called in for training. He has the right to take a break but the sports industry just doesn't always work like that.

Not to mention, in the back of your mind, you always knew that you’d only come after work. Just because he loved you deeply it didn't mean he’d throw years of work out the window for love.

His arms tangled around your waist which made you startled. “Honestly, I already spoke to you a lot and you are reading such a stupid article?” “It's..not that stupid” 

“It is, how about next time you just ask me how it went?” The article was about Itoshi Sae’s newest match, all the tricky goals he made and also how he made the Spanish striker look even better. “I do, you always tell me you were outstanding as usual” you chuckled.

Even if you were a little salty at him, that wasn't an excuse enough to be mad at him. At least in your book.

“Happy Valentine's day mi vida.” He whispered into your ears and got your phone out of your grasp. 

“So far it's not so happy” but then he let go and gave you a small box. “Wait…” 

“Don't overthink it, I just want to make it up to you.. so I booked a flight to Paris for tomorrow and we can do whatever.” 

You were listening but his words seemed to fall into silence as you opened the box. It was a beautiful ring. A simple but pretty one, just as you like it. 

Suddenly the thought hit you like a truck. “Wait, this isn't an engagement right?!?” Your face flushed and seriously hoped it wasn't time for that yet.

“No” his voice let out a crack of a smile. “It's just a promise right, I found your fingers weirdly missing something nowadays.. So since we aren't in a position for marriage yet, I decided on this. You don't have to wear it all the time though. And the next time I give you a ring, it will be an engagement ring.” He pressed a passionate kiss onto your lips while intertwining hour fingers.

The jewel shone on your hand with a soft glow in the dark. “Now, please don't be disappointed.. I know how important today was for you” 

“It's fine mi amor” you giggle. “I don't care if you forget a birthday, an important day, or you are just busy, what matters is that you show your love for me in a way. We can celebrate Valentine’s day on the 15th too, who said it has to be on one precise day anyway?” 

He smirked and shook his head lightly. “I love you Y/N”

“And I love you, Sae” the words barely left your lips and he picked you up anc placed you on the counter kissing you with passion but also many apologies unsaid.

Your boyfriend was never good with words, but he didn't mind showing his true intentions in many ways others wouldn't even think of.

“Oh, I made chocolate..but I kind of ate them already..in misery” he couldn't help but let a coy smile escape. “It's the thought that counts, and you can make it again later.” He rolled his eyes.

Seishiro Nagi:

For you two mornings were already noon for most people. Sure you had a little less sun to look at but it wasn't like you could just stay up at night and play games together. 

As you awoke the sound of late snow hit your ears. It sounded like some serious snow storm in February. 

You leaned over your boyfriend and checked the time on your phone. 11:34am. That's still so early. Waking up this soon was pointless but it's not like you paid more attention to it. You furrowed your brows  due to the bright life emitted from your screen and saw that today was February 14th. That means only one thing.

Valentine’s day. As much as you enjoyed the quality time it was more or less a hassle. But also you made it your virtue to make homemade chocolates to Sei every 14th of February. Just for his sake.

Therefore you climbed out of the grasp of the tall figure and rushed to the kitchen after getting yourself into something cozier. 

Your sloth loved homemade chocolates. Technically he loved your chocolates. He said the creamy texture and the milky aftertaste were just like what he’d buy at the store just better. 

Sometimes you didn't understand much of his reasoning but regardless you went along with it. 

After an hour he woke up to the fresh smell of chocolate. He slowly walked to the kitchen and tilted his head in inquiry. “What are you doing?” “Happy Valentine's day love!” “Ah.. so that's the occasion, thank you.. you too” he yawned lazily.

The white haired man walked behind you and burrowed his face into your neck as he held onto you for support. His tired body weighing onto you. You giggled. “Sei~ your hair tickles!” You could help but laugh more as he kept nuzzling into you. 

“Wanna have a bite?” You smiled and raised a small heart shaped chocolate to his mouth. “Aah” he opened his mouth and lazily bit it. 

His usually tired face showed sparkling eyes and an expression that yearned for more. He never had much of a sweet tooth so when he first tasted your sweets he thought they’d be all sugary, but this was more suited to his tastes with a slight bitterness in it. 

He leaned down and kissed your lips softly. “Yummy” “Me or the chocolates” 

His lips twitched into a smirk and kissed you again turning you to face him finally. “Both” he said and connected your lips again. 

“Wanna play Valorant with me?” “I’m gonna die first aren't I?” You giggled but nodded anyway. The second you wrapped the sweets into a small bag and placed them in the fridge you went after him to boot your computer. 

Later it was time to play your favorite games, which were more on the chill side. Not only did you play animal crossing but also persuaded him to play Genshin Impact with you which he often refuses to. 

Not because he doesn't like it, it's more like because unless it's some farming for your favorite characters he wasn't really needed.

As the snow quieted down and the stars appeared in the night sky, the main part of your date just continued.

Nor you nor him has ever said this would be a date but don't you call a date a well spent quality time? Then you were doing the exact definition of a date. 

Sure anyone could start an argument over this but with your interests aligning so closely it wasn't a matter of uncertainty whether or not this would count as a date or not.

The rest of your days always went by the same way except that he did make sure to thank you for those pretty and tasty chocolates.

Michael Kaiser:     

/small piece of info: since he is german he also gives gifts on Valentine’s day so it’s not entirely like the Japanese customs/   

He was never into love, not to mention Valentine’s day. He also didn’t really understand why someone would love their partner more on a specific day instead of just showing it every day.

That was before he met you. He still thought you deserve to be loved every single second but he understood the value of such a special day. Well at least he kind of knew it’s important to you so he went along with it. 

He spent the entirety of last week thinking what he could do for you. His girl never asked for anything. As far as he knew you never even asked for much. What you did need he bought that anyway so he was in a pickle on what to do.

And there he was. Late with ideas. The awaited day came and he still hadn’t thought of anything. He really tried though. Suddenly he picked you up as you were making him chocolates. “Want to go somewhere?” You tilted your head a little. “The weather forecast said it’d rain soon.” 

“We can still go out, maybe just stay in the car?” You chuckled. “I know you’ve been stressed out because of today but come on, we can just stay at home watch a movie, chat, and I also tried out a new recipe for chocolates which means we can eat that.” “My nutritionist will murder me, but sure if that’s what you want” He mumbled and pulled you more into his embrace. 

“You can pick a movie” You shrug. “Any? Even horror?” He grinned. “Hey, I want to have a good time too.” ‘It’s not like you’d be focusing much on the screen Micha.’ 

People often say he’s as hard to read as understanding cave drawings but to you, Michael Kaiser’s unsaid words just glowed through his expressions. He could make a frowny face and you’d still be confident he was happy with something.

“Stop teasing.” You shook your head with a giggle. As soon as the chocolates were all done he got the first bite. “That’s so good Micha” A soft smile draped across his face. His loving gaze concentrated on ust the woman ahead. He wouldn’t admit, but he was falling deeper and deeper every second he spent with you.

A love he never experienced or saw just barged in on him. The locked iron door was kicked down without even a struggle. The secrets and hardships he never opened up about, all those deep cuts were exposed to you all of a sudden. He just found himself wanting to spend every existing minute with you. The love of his life. 

All those deep scars he tried burying oh so well just resurfaced. And you tried patching them up properly. As if an insecure little girl, who tried covering her pimples with layers upon layers of foundation but only making it worse. You were there and stopped his hands before grabbing the blender again.

There was something special about you. Something no woman could ever replace. Yes you had flaws, just like him. But to him that never meant less perfection. Only more things to work on.

Rin Itoshi:

/traditional Japanese styled valentine’s +reader unable to cook :)/ 

As he got home from his hour-long run the sudden aroma of burnt chocolate made its way to him. “I’m home-” His voice was full of concern but he still headed to the kitchen. “Welcome home Rin!!” You smiled. 

His gaze drifted to the counter. There was one batch of burnt chocolate in heart shapes and you were making another one now. “You don’t have to do this you know…” He inspected the burnt chocolates. Not only did they crumble at his touch but they also seemed genuinely uneatable. Not that he’d want to taste that. “I don’t want to hurt you but, I don’t think this is how they’re made.” 

You pouted and looked at him. “Hey I know I messed those up but this will be better!” You were stubborn. Once you set your mind to something you will go through with it regardless. He knew backing off wasn’t in the cards. “I’ll help you after I showered and changed.” 

“No need, I want to do this for you!” “Yeah, you either do it half-successfully and burn the kitchen down or I help you and they will be potentially digestible.”

“Stop being mean to me” you whined as he just walked out with a chuckle. After about 10 minutes he was back.

He wore a comfortable blue shirt with black sweatpants. His hair was all messy and his face had a smudge of toothpaste on it.

You giggled at his sight. “What?” He scoffed. “Lean down.” To your command he looked at you suspiciously but he obeyed. 

Doon the toothpaste was wiped down. You also made sure his hair is fine. “Have you even looked in the mirror?” “I did- but I was in a hurry” “aww you missed me that much?” “No, I was afraid you’d burn the kitchen down.” 

“See, you are mean again.” Regardless of his words he started helping you and making sure you two didn't leave the chocolate on the fire for long. 

The chocolates weren't only pretty this time but they were also so tasty. You filled some with jam that your grandma uses often. 

You were now sitting by the couch cuddling while some boring show was playing in front of you. That neither of you was interested in.

This is how a regular Valentine's day goes for Rin and you. Nothing much happening but what does, has lots of sentimental value. 

The sun slowly made it's way down the horizon as you two were still playing around by the window. 

You both needed nothing more. Just chocolates and the soft silence of your home.

Reo Mikage: 

/piece of info: he doesn’t really follow japanese customs/

The man knew your needs by heart. Not only would he make sure every February 14th is enjoyable for you but he would also make sure every time a new experience can be written into your diary that you always thought you kept well hidden from him. 

Reo did love you every day. He did show how much he treasured you each moment but he also knew that these special occasions have a sentimental value that he can't just ignore. So instead he tries making the most of it. Every single time.

He already had a hotel booked and you awoke in fresh bed sheets in a homey hotel. You slowly woke up and opened your eyes. Reo was lying next to you and he was just admiring you. “Why are you staring so much?” You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. You just woke up and you probably looked like a giant mess. “Because you’re pretty. So pretty.” The purple haired man smirked. 

You were doing your makeup when he finally arrived from downstairs to order your breakfast to be this luxurious one. Not like you ever asked for such. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my queen.” Reo leaned down and kissed your lips. 

“Mmm, cherry.” “I just put that on.” You pretended to pout but then out of nowhere he handed you a giant bouquet of flowers. “Flowers for the pretty woman. My pretty woman.”  Pink carnations rose up from all the little white flowers. It was filled with pinks and deep purples with also little white flowers here and there. Peonies decorated the bouquet to give it a gentle and majestic look. The latter being there for the soft transition.

Lilies swayed on the edges as you held the soft purple paper it was wrapped in. There was a note to be seen with small white petals painted on it.

‘To my queen who I have to thank for a lot. You lit my world up thousands of times when I was at my worst. Thank you for always reminding me you are here less than in an arm’s reach. I want to show my utmost love to you every second of every day. I’ll never leave you and you cannot either. I love you Beautiful.'

Tears swelled up into your eyes as you read his confession. And that wasn’t even a florist’s handwriting. It was his very own. 

Not only does this man spend so much time and money on you he also makes sure it doesn’t all come from his wealth. Not only do his presents have sentimental value but also it shows that he cares. He cares for you deeply.

“Reo~” You whined trying to hold your tears back. “I just did my mascara too” You whined as you tried drying off your tears. Not that right now that was the most important. You just didn’t know what to do or say to him. 

It was as if words and letters and voices couldn’t convey your true feelings. As if this moment can’t possibly be written. Something ethereal. But also, something more than ethereal. That was his kind of love.

Meguru Bachira:

To say the least your boyfriend had a personality. The moment he woke up in your arms he turned and woke you up with sloppy kisses. “Morning Sunshine”

Your eyelids opened just slightly only to flinch at the amount of light that came through the window. Looks like spring was coming very soon as even the sunrays decided to interrupt your sweet dreams. “Morning Meguru~” your slightly crooked morning voice barely made it out. 

“Happy Valentine's day!!” He squealed excitedly and rolled on top of you.

After finally calming him and going about your day at one point he said he had to meet up with Isagi so you were left in the house all alone. The morning jitters also sparkled onto you as you felt more energized than ever.

But Meguru had that aura around him a lot. No matter how little sleep you got or how exhausted you were because of a long week, your boyfriend would always be there to brighten your day.

After about 4 hours he finally came back. You were making chocolate. It was half ready when the door opened. “So I know today is usually your turn and I have to give white day presents BUUT hear me out.” He grinned and gave you a bouquet of colorful flowers.

Many flowers brightened in a bunch of different colors and aesthetics. You saw red tulips, red, orange and white lilies as well as hydrangeas blooming in deep pinks. Not only was it mesmerizing to look at but the smell filled the room in minutes. 

“Thank you baby! I am so happy you thought of me” you grinned and leaned in to hug him. 

You loved how he was the partner to always confide in, he tried his best to make everyone's day, so when it came to his loved ones he didn't shy away at all. 

You put the flowers in a beautiful vase which you got from his mom last year. It was painted with flower veins strangling all over it in every direction.

Later you both wrapped the chocolates as well as little snacks and went down to the nearby park for a picnic. It has been tradition that on Valentine's day the both of you go downstairs with home cooked things and have fun.

The weather was still chilly and that's what made it more fun. It was solely you two in a friendly loneliness. Having alone time with someone was the best and you both understood that feeling well without having to speak up.

As the cold breeze hit your face you leaned more and more into Meguru’s warmth which not only warmed your body up but also his.

The gentle but earnest type of love that was so hard to find. A childlike wonder that you never grew out of.

You already knew Meguru could go overboard and he didn't miss saying “Happy Valentine's day” in every waking moment you passed each other in the house. With loud cheers and the pure happiness emitting from his mouth.

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

you noticed- r.c. x reader

summary: being rafe’s best friend was great but every time he noticed something you did, your heart beat faster.

warnings: angst, reader has low self esteem and body dysmorphia. please, please take care of yourself if it’s a bit triggering <3

a/n: listening to you noticed by lola young inspired this. also, i spent my afternoon crying because of my dad 🙂‍↕️ but at least i tried to put it to good use. english isn’t my first language, just in case there are errors 🙃.

masterlist

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

“i really like your hair today,” he said. you smiled and looked down at your hands to hide your embarrassment.

you mumbled a thanks before changing the subject, “how’s sarah?”

rafe rolled his eyes, “you know. she’s always with john b now, so i barely see her.”

you laughed, “oh to be in love.” you lifted your gaze, only to be meet his blue eyes with an unreadable expression. you looked away before you said something stupid or worse.

“ready to leave?” he gestured to his truck with a tilt of his head.

you saluted, “yes sir.” you practically marched toward the truck before getting in.

you saw him laughing before getting in and turning on the engine. you grabbed the aux as he started driving away and pressed play on the joint playlist you had for your car rides. you lowered your window, breathing in the ocean breeze. you turned your head, only to see him smiling at you.

“i look like a dog with my head out the window, don’t i?” you joked to, again, not think of what his look meant.

he chuckled, “i think your dog name would be lola or something.”

you gasped in mock offense, “how dare you?”

rafe only kept laughing as he turned his gaze toward the road.

“what kind of dog breed would i be?” for some reason you wanted to be a rottweiler or a german shepard. they seemed cool in movies, you guessed.

he scrunched his nose in thought, making his dimple stand out. your heart skipped a beat and your breath grew shallow.

he glanced at you, “i think you’d be a pomeranian or a chihuahua.” his tone was half serious, half joking.

you punched his arm, “rafe cameron, i would not be a small ass dog.” you meant no offense to them, but c’mon.

“sure you would, they’re small and loud and annoying most of the time.” he suppressed a smile, avoiding your gaze.

you glared at him, “i am not loud nor annoying.” you knew that wasn’t true, you could be quite annoying around him sometimes. but that was only because you felt like you could be yourself around him. he was probably the only person who truly saw you. and that scared you so much.

“sure, kid.” he snorted but you knew he wasn’t serious. you rolled my eyes and leaned your head against the door for the rest of the drive.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

you had less than ten minutes before rafe got here to pick you up for lunch. you scurried around your room for perfume because the one you’d been using had run out. you found some cheap shit under the bathroom cabinet and quickly sprayed it on. you figured it wasn’t too bad. your phone buzzed with a message from rafe that he was out front. you quickly ran down the stairs, grabbing your bag and almost tripping over your shoe laces.

“shit.”

nine times out of ten, you stumbled on those steps for the exact same reason. once you got in the car that smelled so much like him, you were hit with the kind of boyish scent mixed with that clean laundry smell that made your head spin. however, he sniffed the air as if something new had invaded his space. he leaned in and inhaled the perfume on your neck, his breath tickling your skin. for a moment, you were certain your heartbeat was loud enough for him to hear, but before you could pull away, he leaned back with a faint smile.

“you smell like jo malone. i like it,” he started driving as if he hadn’t just completely altered your preference for perfume. suddenly, you wanted to run back home to find the name just so you could buy a thousand bottles online. jesus, get a grip.

you looked at what he was wearing for the first time since you’d gotten into the car, and nearly had another heart attack at the blue sweater he wore along with blue jeans. you quickly pulled out your phone in an attempt to distract yourself from staring at him in awe for the rest of the drive. this lunch was going to be eternal.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

the bathing suit was one you usually wouldn’t try on but because rafe insisted the color would look good on you, here you were looking in the mirror. only to now be singling out every part of your body that you felt needed fixing. you took a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. it was one of those days where the hatred towards your body was at a high level.

before you could duck back into the dressing room, rafe appeared behind you in the mirror.

his smile was one of the most beautiful ones you’d ever seen.

“see? i told you it would look good on you.”

“you really think so?” you winced when you heard the uncertainty and vulnerability in your voice. he noticed, of course he did.

“of course. i love your body in every form and in every way,” the way he said it and the way he looked at you made you realize that he did mean it. and that only made things more complicated. because you couldn’t have him, when you knew it was gonna end. there was no way you’d be friends.

you nodded and excused yourself to change, not noticing the hurt expression on his face at your dismissal.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

your little sister was sitting on the front porch, painting. you and rafe stepped outside to say goodbye. he had an interview today that was for a job he’d always wanted, so he’d come to your house for a quick pep talk. you’d helped him with his tie, the proximity becoming overwhelming. your fingers had shaken a bit and of course he noticed, but didn’t say anything. you avoided his gaze after that and began rambling about how he needed to act in the interview and what things to say. he’d smiled to himself and hugged you, “thanks, kid.” he kissed the top of your head and that shut you up. sure, he’d shown affection towards you but this time it felt different. he’s just being nice, you told yourself.

and now he was talking with your sister about her painting. you leaned against the door as you watched them interact and frowned when he sat down and loosened his tie.

“hey, you’re going to be late,” you said.

he looked back at you and dismissed your remark, “i promised her i’d help her with her painting.”

“rafe. this interview is important. you’ve wanted this since forever.” your throat grew tight with emotion. there was no way he would miss it just to help your sister with her painting.

he smiled softly, “don’t worry about it. i’ll figure it out.”

“but—“

he cut you off with a look that was clear he was done arguing. you nodded and turned so he couldn’t see the tears that had begun spilling down your cheeks. the thought that formed in your head was clear, i love him.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

the boneyard had been like any other, only this time rafe drove you home. you usually left with sarah and the rest of your friends but you weren’t feeling great. the ride home had been quiet, the reason being the argument you’d had at the party.

you’d seen him talking to a girl and she was laughing at all his jokes, which you knew couldn’t possibly be that funny. but what had pissed you off more was the way she had wrapped her arm around his as if he were hers and the fact that he hadn’t pushed her away. the world got blurry and you threw up at the thought of them kissing. sarah had freaked out and insisted to get you home but you said you were fine, that you just needed fresh air. which was stupid because you were at the beach with plenty of fresh air.

you just needed to get away from there, away from him. you stumbled towards the parking lot to wait in the twinkie for the others but you heard someone shouting your name. shit.

you walked faster as if that would make a difference. he’d seen you and he knew you’d heard him but you still kept going. you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your wrist pulling you to face him. his hair was mused and you saw the faintest hint of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. you felt sick all over again and turned away just in time to not puke on his shoes. thank god. this was embarrassing enough as it is.

“woah, are you okay? c’mon, i’ll take you home,” the worried tone in his voice made your heart break a little. you knew he cared because you were his friend —key word— and that only made hating him even harder.

you jerked your arm away, “i’m fine.”

he frowned at your reaction, “hey, what is it?”

you felt feverish and that was probably why you said the words that came out of your mouth, “nothing. shouldn’t you be out there with miss outer banks over there?”

you only then realized how stupid you sounded but the words were already out.

his face still held the same expression of confusion, “i don’t know what you’re talking about. sarah told me you were sick so i came to check up on you.”

that only made you angrier, “well i’m fine. i’m not a little kid that needs to be taken care of. you can go back to the party.” you turned to keep walking but he took your wrist again and this time grabbed you by the shoulders, glaring down at you.

“don’t fucking walk away from me. i don’t know what the fuck your problem is but you’re not going to take it out on me.” he had never spoken to you that way. and now he was too close and the lipstick was too close to you and the jealousy in your stomach made its way to your tongue.

“oh, i’m sorry. country club over here thinks he’s the center of the universe. well, news flash! you’re not because not everything is about you. i don’t need your help nor did i ask for it.”

his jaw clenched and he lifted one of his hands to grab your chin, making it impossible to get away.

“you’re being completely immature and rude. and i’m not saying it has anything to do with me, but you are making it about me when you’re treating me like shit.” you tried to speak but his hold wouldn’t let you.

“i’m taking you home. end of story. tomorrow we’ll talk about your ridiculous behavior, okay?” you glared at him, because it was the only thing that you could do.

he finally let go of you and you gently touched your chin. it didn’t exactly hurt but it felt tender.

he grabbed your hand and led you to the truck, then proceeded to pick you up by your waist and put on your seatbelt. the whole thing made you feel like a child being scolded by their parent. he slammed the door before getting in the driver’s seat and driving towards your house with a hard grip on the wheel.

now here you were sitting in silence inside his truck, staring at the front porch of your house.

the tension in the air was clear, neither of you was willing to extend an olive branch but because rafe knew how stubborn you could be, he decided to speak first.

you heard him sigh, “kid, i’m sorry. i was just worried about you and the way you treated me made me angry. you know you can talk to me, you’re my best friend.”

you squeezed your eyes at that, the tears falling onto your lap but thankfully it was dark enough for him to notice.

you felt his hand under your chin, turning your head to face him, “hey, what is it?”

when he saw your tear-streaked face, you saw his anger dissolve into worry. he wiped your tears away and pulled you into a hug, which only cause you to cry harder. he ran his hand down your back in soothing motions, knowing you just needed to let it all out. once you were done, you pulled away, only to be inches away from his face. that’s when you saw something click behind his eyes, causing you to wince internally. you looked down at his lips and leaned forward pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. you then pulled away before he could react, getting out of his truck and running into your house. after locking the door behind you, you ran towards your room and locked that door as well before slumping down against it. you brought your knees to your chest and lowered your head into your arms, sobbing.

thoughts kept circling your head but you could only form the one thing you wanted to say to him but couldn’t.

i tried my best to not love you tonight and you noticed.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .*

sorry if this was bad lol. ty for reading <3

[overnightheartbeats]

“Well yes, but she wouldn’t be standing outside your door otherwise.” In other words, he wouldn’t exactly be on her radar if Laurel hadn’t singled him out with her interest. But, he had a point. Apologizing for her wasn’t really correct. If anything, it was more an apology for the hassle and inconvenience. “Okay, well the apology is for not really believing you the first time around.” That one also counted. Still, despite her best efforts to keep the mood light after that debacle, she couldn’t quite get past the disbelief and the shock of having ever defended a roommate like that. To have even fallen for an act like that, talk about gullible. “Yeah,” she breathed out in response. “I don’t want to believe it, but I..yeah I heard her. Kind of hard to deny. I just don’t understand why she was so angry at you.” His reassurance and smile did ease some of her nerves, and she gave him a smile in return, comforted by his soft touch. “Good, I’m glad. It’s not…none of it is true.” Did she know everything that was said between them? No, not exactly. But, she’d still assure it was inaccurate.

Still in her state of shock, but laurel listened to each word. His words swirled around her head as she tried making sense of it all. Demanding, marking her territory. It had also hit her in that moment, Juju’s feeling about her roommate had been right. It hadn’t really occurred to her that she’d taken her dad’s advice too literally. A balance was needed - between what her mom spewed often about not trusting anyone and the world sucks, versus her dad’s more optimistic outlook on life. “I hate that," she said, scrunching up her nose. "You don't deserve that mess," her words trailing off as she met his green eyes. Her train of thought was interrupted, as always mesmerized by him. The green eyes combo with his damp hair falling on his face was too distracting. "I'm...yeah I'm okay. My thoughts are all over the place still, but nothing crazy. You really think so?" Then, she thought back to her earlier realization. Clearly, her judge of character was a bit skewed at the moment. "Yeah, you're probably right. I hope that's not the case, but I'll be careful. Promise, as long as you'll be careful too. I can never say no to you walking me to class, as long as it doesn't keep you from your classes."

She hummed happily, leaning into his cheek kiss. How quickly she was falling, she could feel it. "Mhm, I think we should. Tempting to stay in bed, but I guess since I'm not hiding my whereabouts anymore, we could take the trip to the diner." Snow day, Chicago. His siblings. Was she wrong to read that as a good sign of their connection? The idea of meeting his family or going all the way to Chicago stunned her. Her heart was quick to react, heart rate accelerating at the thought. If her heartbeat could be translated, it'd be a resounding yes. Her mind just hadn't caught up to form the words. It took her a moment to catch up. "Wait, really? I haven't seen snow in a long while, I would love to. But, you're sure you want me to meet your siblings?"

Eli shook his head and sighed as he moved away from the door taking her with him. "Please don't apologize for her. You are the last person who should apologize for her. I know this is hard and believe me I didn't want you to have to find this out this way but really, a part of me is glad you saw how she really is. She plays up the innocent act. I don't think any amount of times telling you she said something would really make you believe. This was something she needed to show you." he shrugged and smiled. "Everything she says rolled off my back. I don't take her words to heart. If I did I wouldn't be here with you." His hand caressed her cheek sweeping the strand of wet hair away from her face.

"She uses you as a crutch. Even if you were at your dads, she still would have come over here and demanded to back off you. Regardless if you were here or not, she'd still want to mark her territory." As he looked into her eyes he had to ask, "are you okay?" Now that Jenny was on the other side of the door he was more focused on making sure Laurel was okay. He had dealt with Jenny for a while now that his words didn't really matter.

"I will say though that she won't stop here. What she'll do I have no idea but I want you to be careful. Maybe I can walk you to class?" The worry was more for her than him but truly he didn't have a great feeling with Jenny.

Nuzzling her face he kissed the side of her cheek and softly closed his eyes. "Did you still want to go get food? Or want to order in and stay in bed? Hey, if my siblings say yes, do you want to come to our snow day in Chicago?"

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

❤️‍🔥 Who Is Yearning For You: Describing Who’s Currently Crushing On You ❤️‍🔥

💌Welcome to 7 Days, 7 Posts! In honor of Valentine’s Day on February 14th, I’m releasing seven blog posts dedicated to love, intimacy, passion, and everything that ignites the flames. Join me on this journey as I share my insights through tarot.

If you enjoy my content, be sure to follow me, explore my other posts, and check out my paid services! 💌

Pile 1: The Intensely Romantic Lover

Your crush has so much energy. I’m absorbing all their energy right now, and it’s intense. They’re not for the weak, and they’re not for the faint of heart. They have a lot going on with them. They’re not completely straightforward; they hide their intentions. They don’t tell you everything, but they tell you what you want to hear. They’re crafty and creative with their words, but their follow-through could lead to chaos and disaster.

Your crush is flirtatious, charming, and probably handsome or beautiful. You’re compelled to walk into a room with them because their aura is so mesmerizing. But, they come with tricks up their sleeves. They’re not 100% solid. They shake, and when they shake, they shake things up like a can of soda with Mentos in it. They’re explosive, which can lead to high, intense passions but also toxic dynamics that could erode the relationship over time. But let’s dive deeper.

Your crush is patient. They don’t execute impulsively. They like to wait and plot. They don’t make spontaneous decisions—everything they do is calculated, contrived, coerced, and even rehearsed. They wait because they know it will take time to get what they want. They don’t burst through doors. Instead, they sit back, relax, and watch, observing you and how they can insert themselves into your world after careful evaluation. They’re quick to hide their true intentions and keep a bit of mystery, preferring to unfold gradually. They want you to uncover them, to discover the layers under what they’re showing you.

Your crush is the type of person who doesn’t rush decisions. They sit with their thoughts, marinate on them, and wait until everything feels just right. When they finally decide to move forward, it’s like the final boil of a soup, with all the flavors melded together. That’s when they make their move. But sometimes they wait too long, staying in the background, watching, observing, and never coming forward.

But when they do, it will be a complete shock. They’ve been watching you from afar with a stoic poker face. You won’t even know they like you because they keep things so calm and collected. You won’t see what’s going on in their mind, yet their mind is constantly active. When they finally come to you, it will take you by surprise. You’ll wonder how they even liked you because it seemed like they barely noticed you. But they were watching you closely behind that calm exterior.

When they do come forward, they’ll be quite the romantic. They’ll charm you, serenade you, and show you a level of tenderness and care you haven’t experienced. For them, romance isn’t just an act—it’s an arena, a stage for them to come alive. They’ll make you feel like you’re in the middle of a whirlwind romance, the kind that feels like a movie. Their gifts are never ordinary. They’ll write you love letters, send sweet texts, sing to you, rub your back or shoulders, or simply listen when you need to talk. They’ll be there for you when you need to vent, nurture you when you’re down, and always show you that they’ve got your back.

On your worst days, they’ll be right there beside you with something you want or need, something that will lift your spirits. They’ll take you on dates to places you love and places you’ve never been. They’ll introduce you to a world you don’t know, all while engaging in deep, stimulating conversations that draw them in. Your mind captivates them. They’re intrigued and want more and more of it.

This is the type of person you’ve dreamed of, the one you’ve longed for. They’re the person you could only imagine, but now they stand before you, shaking up your entire world, flipping things upside down, exploring the depths of you, while also pleasing you physically. Every moment spent with them is filled with enjoyment, quality, and meaning. Time with them is never wasted—it’s always filled with stature and status.

Pile 2: The Broken, But Ambitious Lover

The person who’s crushing on you is about their business. They’re serious and don’t play around. They’re no-nonsense people who demand the truth from you, and they only want the truth. If you walk into their life, you can’t be chaotic. You must offer them something of value—something they can accept and return to you tenfold. They only want to build and grow, and they don’t tolerate shaky foundations. They need something solid. Loyalty means everything to them. This person doesn’t play games, and if you try, you might get crushed by them.

They come across as mature because they’ve had to learn hard lessons through life. They’ve been through a lot, a tough life, but they’ve made it through, gaining a lot of wisdom from their struggles. This person has been hurt—beaten down, heartbroken, betrayed, and let down. They’ve experienced trust being broken and time wasted. They’ve gone through enough to know that people are fallible, and depending on love can make you vulnerable. That hurt has shaped them, and though it’s turned them into someone wiser, it also affects how they interact with others.

They’re serious because they don’t want to be hurt again, and they need to know who you are. They want you to reveal yourself early on so they can decide if they want you in their life. When this person wants something, they don’t mess around—they go after it. They’re a go-getter, someone who makes things happen. They don’t wait for things to come to them; they seize every opportunity and create their own blessings. When they want something, including you, they don’t hide it—they make it clear.

This person stands on business, big business. They don’t say something and retract it. They don’t second-guess or overthink. They don’t waste time tossing and turning over love. They’ve been hurt and don’t care about all that indecision. When confrontation happens, they show up—they don’t back down. They can be aggressive, coming on strong with an energy that might both scare and captivate you. They have strong boundaries and are not afraid to enforce them. Everything they know is based on logic; they don’t entertain too many opinions or get too emotional. If they defend something, it’s because they defend their facts—they won’t let anyone challenge what they know.

When things get emotionally intense, they step back. They’re afraid of being hurt, and so they pull away, especially if they feel like they might be betrayed again. In those moments, they keep to themselves, retreating and not communicating. They can come off as nonchalant or even uncaring, but it’s a defense mechanism. They may not know how to handle emotionally charged situations, and this leads them to say the wrong things or act out. Sometimes they can be blunt, disrespectful, or harsh in their words.

This person is a bit toxic—they still carry a lot of unresolved pain and baggage. But despite their flaws, they do have good intentions. They want to succeed in life, to achieve their goals, and they care about stability. They believe in themselves and in what they do. They just struggle to express their emotions in healthy ways, and their communication sometimes lacks maturity. Overall, they do care, but it’s difficult for them to show it. It’s up to you whether you want to take on this complex, sometimes difficult person with all their baggage.

Pile 3: The Mental Lover With Chains Around Their Heart

The person who has a crush on you might be in a negative mental space. They tend to think a lot about the future but are often concerned about it. Rather than focusing on the positives or having faith in the future, they lean more toward pessimism, self-doubt, and skepticism, especially when it comes to love and romance. They may have some reservations about approaching you or having a relationship with you. There are things that they are unsure about.

However, this person loves communication. It’s a skill of theirs, and they enjoy engaging in intellectual conversations. This is their area of strength—providing facts and sharing information. They could have a lot of air sign placements or even be an air sign themselves. When they speak, they are clear, direct, and not one for subtlety. They prefer to communicate in a concrete, factual way, and they enjoy back-and-forth exchanges of information.

At times, though, they can seem a bit cold. Their focus on facts and logic, as well as their negative thinking and lack of faith, can make them appear distant, a bit dreary, or even depressed. They might seem unreachable or emotionally unavailable, as if they’re constantly in their head, overwhelmed with anxiety.

They also tend to get into heated arguments easily. This person does not back down from discussions, especially when there are differing opinions involved. They often stand firm in their views, which can sometimes be controversial and spark tension. Because of this, they may unintentionally hurt people’s feelings. They aren’t particularly empathetic or compassionate in these situations, and instead of apologizing, they often double down, defending their statements more than acknowledging when they are wrong. Their pride sometimes prevents them from admitting when they’re mistaken, and they might not apologize easily.

They can be assertive to the point of aggression, and this trait can turn into dominance. Their assertiveness might come off as overly forceful or even hostile, and they may struggle with conflict and disagreements. This person might be disconnected from their emotions and is more focused on their logical, masculine energy. They likely don’t engage in creative outlets such as drawing, dancing, or writing, which would help nurture their feminine side. They also may not prioritize their appearance or self-care. They could seem rough around the edges, not nurturing their body, emotions, or environment. They may not even make an effort to create a comfortable space for themselves, which reflects their lack of connection with their feminine energy.

It’s possible that this person comes from an unstable family background or has experienced significant emotional wounds, such as a mother wound. These unresolved issues have caused them to suppress their softer, more vulnerable side and focus on the masculine, fact-based aspects of life. This individual has endured significant pain, heartbreak, and betrayal, which has left them carrying a lot of emotional baggage.

They may have recently gone through a breakup or divorce, which has left their heart closed off. The instability in their love life has made it hard for them to trust others, and they might be struggling to find confidence or excitement in their daily life. They feel stagnant and are holding onto what they know, unable to offer anything stable or healthy at this time. While they may have a crush on you, they currently lack the emotional stability and openness required to build a meaningful relationship. They are still in the process of healing and growing before they can fully embrace love and romance again.

Pile 4: The Calm and Focused Lover

The person who has a crush on you, may be stuck in the past. They could still be emotionally attached to someone else, or they might be holding on to past feelings. Even though they like you, their lingering emotions for someone else make it difficult for them to fully open up and connect with you. This emotional attachment could result in a relationship that feels unbalanced or lacks reciprocity.

Your crush may still be healing from emotional pain caused by a past relationship, and they’re not yet fully over it. They might feel stuck in a standstill, unable to move forward. Despite this, they hide their struggles and tend to be passive, avoiding confrontation and conflict. This person is likely non-confrontational and avoids conflict, possibly feeling inadequate at times. They may not feel capable of meeting certain expectations and may struggle to assert themselves in the relationship, which could lead to a sense of reservation or being closed off.

They likely move slowly when it comes to relationships because they are unsure of what they want. This slow pace, combined with their passive personality, may make them seem distant or unsure. Although they may come off as sweet and youthful, with an optimistic and generous outlook on life, they are probably very sentimental and value emotional connections deeply. This sentimentality might be why they struggle to let go of the past and move on from it.

Despite these emotional struggles, they have strong qualities. They’re probably organized and have goals for the future, feeling content with where they are in life, especially in terms of material success. They’re likely a quiet person, who values self-respect and prefers to avoid conflict. This focus on stability means they are more likely to walk away from a situation than engage in a heated argument. They prefer to keep things calm and stable, and they’re not inclined to lead or control others. They don’t want to come across as aggressive or domineering; instead, they prefer to focus on themselves and their personal growth.

Your crush is a practical person who prioritizes stability and success. They move at their own pace, taking their time to evaluate situations. They envision a successful future, with great health and material wealth, but they don’t rush toward emotional engagement, especially when it comes to love. They might have a crush on you, but they hesitate to invest deeply because they prefer to avoid overwhelming emotions. They value calmness, predictability, and groundedness over emotional excitement or passion. They’re more focused on dedication, ambition, and personal responsibility than on managing the emotions or expectations of others.

This person may come off as young in some ways, but in reality, they are mature and serious about their goals. They have things going well for them in life and are likely to be grounded in their approach. They’re not likely to charge into a relationship aggressively, but they will approach you in a direct and honest way, maintaining a calm demeanor. Overall, they seem to be in a better place, but it’s clear they still need time and space to work through their emotional attachments from the past.

[livixbobbiex]

Translating the Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney Fanbook! Article 1

So, I recently managed to buy one of the old fanbooks. This one is a compilation of magazine articles and blog posts written by Shu Takumi. It's also where a lot of the really iconic official promotional art pieces are from. I know that there are some translations out there of a few pages, but I don't think anyone has done the whole thing.

The pages are typically formatted with a written entry from Shu Takumi, followed by a dialogue between various characters. I will be posting the character dialogue first (even if not on the image page) as it's probably the most interesting. You can also access the full raw text and images here.

Dialogue on artwork

Phoenix: If you’re just hanging around, go home. 

Edgeworth: Hm, I’m thirsty. 

Phoenix: This isn’t a cafe. Maya, don’t serve him tea. 

Maya: Nick’s stinginess…

Dialogue page

In Wright and Co Law Offices: On the theme of ‘Summer’ 

We asked Mr Takumi about how things are going in the Wright and Co Law Offices recently! Are Phoenix and Maya still the same as ever…!?

Maya: Everyone, it’s been a while! I’m Maya Fey. 

Phoenix: Hello. I’m Phoenix Wright. 

Maya: We did it, Nick! We’re  finally making our magazine debut!  

Phoenix: We’ve got to get into the spirit of things here, don’t we. 

Maya: That’s right! Let’s get going! 

Phoenix: Should we start without delay? The theme is ‘Summer’. 

Maya: Summer, huh? Summer is… hot, isn’t it? Every day. 

Phoenix: You’re so normal all of a sudden. 

Maya: If you’re Japanese, it’s surely time for somen noodles and barley tea. 

Phoenix: They’re nice and refreshing. 

Maya: I made the mistake of dipping the noodles in barley tea and I was like ‘it’s flavourless!’. 

Phoenix: What's with that iffy failure story? 

Maya: Hey, hey. I wonder if Detective Gumshoe is also slurping up somen noodles today. 

Phoenix: I don’t think the season matters, in his case. 

Maya: The image of Detective Gumshoe and somen noodles has become completely stuck. 

Phoenix: That’s true for you too, Maya. With miso ramen, huh? 

Maya: I’m going for it this year. “Best Miso Ramenist.” 

Phoenix: A good idea? 

Maya: In any case, in the summer, light types of noodles are the best! 

Phoenix: …Speaking of which, what does Pearls like? In terms of noodle types. 

Maya: Ah, Pearl. She really loves soba. 

Phoenix: Oh. Good choice. Feels a lot like summer in Japan. 

Maya: Right, right. By the way, how about Prosecutor Edgeworth? 

Phoenix: Knowing him, he’d probably say something like spaghetti. 

Maya: Eh! That’s so normal. How boring. 

Phoenix: No, no. I don’t actually know much. It’s just my own image of him. 

Maya: In any case I would have thought that he’d like ‘kishimen noodles’ or something. 

Phoenix: Kishimen noodles…? 

Maya: Here. The flat noodle sticking out of his mouth would suit the frills he wears. 

Phoenix: ……I’ll recommend them to him next time. 

Maya: Well, well. What about you, Nick?

Phoenix: Me? What type of noodle do I like…

[TL note: this is hilarious because of the way everything is written. The line could literally read as ‘what kind of men do I like?’ and I’m not sure if intended].

Maya: You have one, don’t you?

Phoenix: I guess. Maybe vermicelli noodles. 

Maya: …What’s that? 

Phoenix: Ah. You don’t know?

Maya: I’ve never heard of it.

Phoenix: Baked vermicelli are delicious. The feeling of them sticking down my throat is indescribable. 

Maya: ‘Vermicelli’ doesn’t sound like the name of a noodle in the first place… 

Phoenix: It doesn’t matter, really. I like them. 

Maya: You know what? The image is important. The should call it something safe like “squid yakisoba”. 

Phoenix: …Why are you putting squid in it? 

Maya: If you attach it to an awkward image, you’ll have trouble like I did. 

Phoenix: Eh? But, you like it, don’t you? Miso ramen.

Maya: I like it a lot. This time of year too, I really want to eat chilled ramen. 

Phoenix: But you can still eat it. 

Maya: But, but. Won't everyone expect that of me? 

Phoenix: Expect it…? 

Maya: Like, “look over there. There’s Maya, with the same miso ramen as always.” 

Phoenix: …Haa. 

Maya: So then you’re slurping down ramen as a last resort. It’s really hot. 

Phoenix: That’s being excessively self conscious, Maya.

Shu Takumi article

Ace Attorney and Summer 

Takumi Shu (??): The director and screenwriter of ‘Ace Attorney’. Rumour has it he’s fueled by alcohol.

Nice to meet you. I’m Takumi Shu from the Ace Attorney team. I have responsibility for the planning, directing, and screenwriting for the three works in the series. On this occasion, I’m pleased I was able to greet everyone in this Dorimaga magazine. I hope that you will enjoy reading. 

Now, onto the theme of ‘Ace Attorney and Summer’. Thinking of summer… every year, it’s the busiest season. 

First… frantically writing proposals. 

Second… frantically scripting. 

Third… frantically making final adjustments. 

…These are my fundamental memories of summer. 

The series releases in October, which means that during this period each year, it’s our last scramble. By the way, the third game was released in January…. This is because that last scramble dragged on. 

In ‘Ace Attorney’, there’s actually only one story set in summer. ‘The First Turnabout' begins on the third of August. The details… aren’t particularly summery at all. There’s probably no themes like “the sea” or “bon festivals”.

It seems like we’re not very well versed with summer. I wonder why. Perhaps it’s because I have no air conditioner in my room, so I spend every day in a red-hot hell, cursing the world. If you fail to buy seasonal goods like that once, it’s hard to find the right time to get them. 

That’s about it for this volume. I would like a change from the feel official website column, at to make here more relaxed… or, rather, I think freer. Everyone, if you have any requests or questions, please send them to me here! 

Godot box 

Prosecutor Godot compilation: Showcase of various cut content. 

Here we showcase various cut content. First is Prosecutor Godot. Here are some rejected phrases extracted from my ‘punny lines notebook’, which I prepared when writing his hard-boiled lines. I hope you’ll read them out loud as you imagine the situation. (Takumi) 

….Trite. You look like… a begging monk too naive to steal a kiss from the courtroom goddess. 

A man’s worth is determined by the smile he shows in his last moments. …Look. The coffee… smiles bitterly… 

[goodlucktai]

tossing pennies in the pool

rottmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & OC, mikey & woody title borrowed from the 1 by taylor swift part of the archer au  i had initially started to write this for someone who requested mikey & gio in the good timeline. but i managed to completely miss that they had specifically requested the good timeline and wrote this in the true neutral timeline instead. 'what is the true neutral timeline?' good question :)

He was ready. The sooner he left, the sooner he could come back. Mikey on the other hand looked so pale and miserable that Gio couldn’t help but tell him, “If you really don’t want me to go, I’ll stay.” 

in the true neutral timeline, Mikey asks Gio to stay.

x

Gio’s late. 

Mikey’s trying not to be an insane person about his little brother missing an unofficial curfew. Teenagers do that sort of thing all the time. Especially fiercely independent teenagers who practically raised themselves, who chafe at structure because at the wrong angle those supportive struts and load-bearing beams probably look a lot like a cage. 

It’s just. His fiercely independent teenager doesn’t do that sort of thing at all. 

Gio is a lot of things, and somewhere at the very top of that list is ‘traumatized’ in bold, italic, underlined, all caps, size twenty font. Mikey doesn’t know the details, but he knows that Giorgio is terrified of breaking rules that don’t exist. He’s always searching for that line he can’t cross, that step too far that will put him in that dangerous familiar territory where the unwanted end up. He is certain that the line exists. 

When Gio says he’ll be home by ten, he’s home by ten. He’ll make it home like his life depends on it. 

Mikey heroically manages not to look at the clock for a full three minutes. A spiteful 10:43 stares back at him from the stove range when he does look. He refocuses on the pan he’s scrubbing, and doesn’t think about the calls and texts that have gone unanswered, because then he really will lose what’s left of his composure. 

It’s hard. Mikey’s trying to find the line, too. How much attention is too much? When does Mikey go from supportive to overbearing? He wants Gio to know that there’s someone thinking about him, someone who worries about him when he’s late, but he never wants the little spotted turtle to feel smothered or dread walking through the door. 

Gio was looking forward to dinner. He didn’t say it, but Mikey’s gotten pretty good at reading his microexpressions. The kitchen smells like baked mostaccioli and garlic bread and all of it’s untouched and going cold because Mikey’s stomach is in knots. 

Footsteps down the hall announce Raph a few seconds before he leans through the doorway. His eyes slide from Mikey to the empty seat at the island Gio usually occupies and he blinks. 

“Where’s the kid?” he asks. 

Mikey jerks one shoulder in a shrug, buried elbow-deep in soapy water. He doesn’t want to talk about it to someone who doesn’t care. The thought instantly feels mean and unfair, an ugly shape where it sits in his head, but at least it’s ugly where only Mikey can see it. 

In his periphery, he sees Raph frown. Whatever he might have said is cut off by the sound of a call coming through on Mikey’s phone. This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets—

Gio’s ringtone. Mikey looks urgently at Raph as he wrestles his wet rubber gloves off. After half a second of trepidation, his older brother picks up the phone and accepts the call. 

“Hey,” he says, uncertainty evident to anyone who knows him. To anyone who doesn’t, he just sounds largely disinterested, like he’s greeting someone he’s familiar with but not close to. It’s not the way Raphie, of all people, is supposed to sound while talking with his baby brother. Then his tone changes abruptly, brow furrowing. “Who is this?” he rumbles. 

A wailing klaxon and spinning red lights are going off in Mikey’s brain. That’s Gio’s ringtone, that’s Gio’s phone calling, who has his phone?

“Put it on speaker,” he manages to say normally.  

“—in pretty rough shape,” a stranger’s voice is in the middle of saying, audibly nervous. Mikey’s heart is pounding in his ears. “It was supposed to be an easy job, a simple delivery—building supplies for the festival next month—but no one told us the lumberyard was cursed. We strolled right in like a troupe of clowns.”

There’s a lot to absorb here. Apparently when Gio isn’t home, he’s working in the Hidden City. Which—fine. He’s allowed to do that, if that’s what he wants to do. Nevermind that he doesn’t need to, that his needs will all be provided for from now on, that he doesn’t have to scrape survival together all by himself anymore, because that’s what his family is for. 

He’s eighteen—or so he says. Mikey would never call the kid a liar to his face, but he has never shaken his first impression of Gio, which was that he looked like an underfed fifteen year old.  

Any kid passing through foster care in the yokai world, whatever that looked like, would have plenty of reasons to lie about plenty of things. Trying to pass himself off as older to age out faster is not beyond the realm of possibility. It even makes an unfortunate amount of sense. But if that’s the truth, Mikey hasn’t earned the right to hear it yet. 

All of that goes on a shelf in the back of his mind for the time being. The more pressing matter is—

“Cursed?” Mikey demands. Something rattles in the kitchen and Raph looks at him sidelong. “Gio?”

“Oh, hey, are you Mike?” the stranger says, apparently hearing something in his tone that they didn’t hear in Raph’s. “His emergency contact is saved as a Mike. He didn’t want us calling anyone for him, but, uh, I don’t make a habit of leaving teenagers passing out on the side of the road? So I stole his phone. Temporarily.” 

The rattling gets louder, and Raph’s sidelong look turns into a head-on stare, but all Mikey can think about is his kid. His Georgie. Vulnerable and unwell and at the mercy of people he doesn’t really know. Too stubborn and far too careful to trust the goodness of anyone’s heart, to let them close enough to help. He’d rather crawl home. 

It’s not Gio’s fault. That unkind world he got shunted off to when he was a baby chewed him up and spit him out and left him in the shape it left him in. What’s left of him is what survived. 

“He’s in and out of it, but I’ll tell him you’re coming next time he wakes up?” the voice says. “You, uh, you’re coming, right?”

Another Krang invasion couldn’t keep Mikey away. 

Several things clatter to the counters and the floor all at once and Mikey barely notices. He steps on a loose rolling pin and lurches gracelessly, saved by the huge hand that catches him by the back of his shirt. Raph lets him go, only to snatch the keys he’d been beelining for off their hook before he can get to them. 

He passes Mikey his phone, but not the keys, and leads the way to the garage. 

The good samaritan promises to stay on the phone until they arrive, agreeable and unbothered by losing a good chunk of the rest of their evening after a pretty shitty day at work. Gio rallies once or twice, but not for very long, and he sounds very grumpy when he does. His pissed-off turtle noises in the background are adorable, and do more to soothe Mikey’s worries than anything else. 

The curse was temporary and largely harmless, according to the representative from Witch Town who arrived on the scene to put out metaphorical fires. The sawyers had incidentally cut down a copse of trees they shouldn’t have, and the spirits who lived in it took issue with being soundly and unfairly evicted. They put a mean-spirited spell on the timber that caused disorientation like the kind they had felt when their homes had suddenly collapsed—but, the voice on the phone reports to Mikey, the spirits did feel bad about it when they saw a kid was involved. They coughed up the remedy pretty quick after Gio hit the ground. 

The whole thing is so typical of the chaotic, quasi-lawlessness of the Hidden City that Mikey almost wishes it had been a nefarious scheme just so he could feel something constructive, like anger with somewhere to go, instead of just dizzying, directionless panic. 

“But he’s okay? He’s fine?” he presses for probably the fifth time. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s one tough little turtle,” the stranger says at once.“I thought he was gonna take my whole arm off when I tried to help him up. Like, genuinely, it scared the hell out of me.” Somewhat distantly, the tough little turtle in question grumbles something Mikey can’t make out, and the stranger replies, in a tone that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on April teasing Donnie a lifetime ago, “Yes, you. You’re scary. All five feet of you.”

In his periphery, Mikey sees Raph lose to a reluctant smile. 

They’re in Hidden City limits within twenty minutes, following both S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s pin on the GPS and the stranger’s somewhat unhelpful attempts at directions. The road they’re on ends in a gravel lot, vehicles blocked from going further by a traffic barrier. Mikey’s out of the van before Raph has a chance to put it in park, off like a shot, looking for landmarks. 

“You—uh, I think—I’m not trying to make assumptions, I know families come in all shapes and sizes, but I just saw a turtle with a ponytail, like, fly past me, was that you?”

Mikey backtracks, taking the left he initially skipped over. Down a narrow, winding city street, past closed shops and open bars, all the lit windows creating a checkerboard pattern on the street, blocks of yellow light that Mikey moves through one after another, only slowing when he’s right in front of a miserable pile of spotted turtle curled on the bottommost step of an employees-only entrance. 

There’s a tall yokai standing guard from a careful arm’s length away, but he may as well be a part of the scenery at the moment. All of Mikey’s attention belongs elsewhere. 

Gio’s forehead is pressed into the side of the handrail, spotted brow furrowed. Given that his resting expression gives the impression that he’s perpetually ticked off, Mikey can understand why a stranger might think he looks mean. But all Mikey can see is a sick kid who didn’t quite make it home before his legs gave out beneath him. 

Every molecule in his body is compelled urgently to scoop Gio up off the ground. He knows better.

“Hey, Georgie,” he says, cramming his phone into his pocket. “Are you with me, buddy? Can you hear me?”

When there isn’t an immediate response from his little brother, the stranger pipes up, “He comes out of it every few minutes. Here’s, uh, his phone?”

Remembering the other yokai exists, Mikey turns without standing, putting a protective shoulder firmly between his brother and the stranger, and takes stock of them. 

They’re tall and broad, with a distinctive square head, canine snout and floppy ears sticking out of a haphazard mass of yellow curls. Later, Mikey will know the coloring of their fur is called orange belton, common in setters. For now, he just thinks the warm brown and white splotches competing for space across their face are cute. Like an enthusiastic painting project. 

Most disarmingly, they’re wearing a vintage orange and blue Knicks hoodie. 

“Oh, shit,” Mikey says without thinking, accepting Gio’s phone from their outstretched hand. “You’re a New Yorker.”

Their uncertain smile slackens a bit in shock, then widens. “Yeah, man! Queens, born and raised.”

Now that Gio is safe in front of him and he has an iota of brainpower free to think of anything else, Mikey can hear the accent loud and clear. It’s stupid, but it causes a big chunk of his guard to go right down. This guy’s practically his neighbor. 

Since they aren’t going anywhere until Gio rouses enough to give anyone permission to touch him, Mikey settles in. To his surprise, the dog mutant settles in on his free side. 

His name is Woodrow Dirkins, he’s a year older than Mikey, and he mutated when he was fifteen. 

“I used to walk dogs around my neighborhood for extra cash,” he says with a remarkable amount of good humor about the whole thing. “Something stung me, and the next thing I know—well, getting Daisy back home to my neighbor without getting the cops called on me was, uh, not easy.”

“That must have been scary,” Mikey says softly, what’s left of his heart going out to that poor kid whose life got turned upside down without warning all those years ago.

“Definitely wasn’t how I’d have chosen to spend my summer,” Woody admits. “But it would’ve been a lot worse if I didn’t have my sister.”

He’d gone home eventually, because he was fifteen and he had to go home. His sister caught him climbing through the window, furious at his disappearing act first, and then horrified at the state of him. But his frightened, tearful stammering restructured her initial panic into older sibling caretaking mode that superseded everything else. She dragged him into her arms and locked him in a hug until his shuddering breaths evened out. 

Her first words about it had been “That goddamned Daisy.” And it surprised Woody into laughing. And they had figured it out together. 

“Finished high school online, got my bachelors in English the same way. Virtual tutoring helps in a pinch, you know, when there’s too much month at the end of the money, but gigwork in the Hidden City is what really pays my bills,” the dog mutant says, folding his gangly legs so that a passerby doesn’t have to step over them. “So no judgement, genuinely, I’m literally in the same boat. It’s just—Gio here is, uh—he works a lot, huh?”

Mikey’s mouth firms into a thin line. “Which is news to me.”

At that point, a deer yokai trying to leave the building they’re loitering at shuffles down the employee steps and then hovers awkwardly behind them. Mikey looks up at her and she immediately clambers over the railing and goes around them. 

“You’re kind of intense, huh,” Woody says. He’s smiling as he says it, curls falling into his eyes. 

In another life, they probably could have been friends. 

A quiet noise next to him steals all of Mikey’s focus. Gio lifts his head from where his forehead was braced on the railing. It takes him a minute to find Mikey’s face. His eyes are dark and muddy, slow to focus. When they do, his mouth turns down a little more in the corners. 

He looks the way Mikey looks when he’s trying not to cry. That’s how Mikey knows for certain that the poor kid isn’t feeling like himself. Curse remedies tend to cling like a bad hangover. 

“Sounds like you had a big night, Clementine,” Mikey goes on, his voice low and calm. “Ready to go home?”

“Didn’t want him to call,” Gio says, matching Mikey’s volume. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Mikey’s little brother, everyone. He got cursed and didn’t think that was worth a phone call. Painfully self-conscious and overly cautious, lingering on the fringes of belonging because he wouldn’t know the first thing about barging right in and demanding his brothers’ time and attention, the way all of them grew up doing. 

It’s yours, Mikey wishes he could make Gio understand. You’re supposed to have it. We’re supposed to take care of you. 

“You never bother me,” Mikey says instead. Leo used to have a specific tone for wheedling Mikey out of a funk, a sternness that was so absolute it looped back around into silliness. It always made grumpy box turtles laugh despite themselves. Mikey tries to sound like Leo as he adds, “And even if you did, even if you were the most grumpy, annoying, high-maintenance little brother on the planet, I would still break a million laws and burn down the entire Hidden City and become the yokai’s most wanted just to get to you two minutes faster.”

Woody snorts. Gio doesn’t look convinced, because of course he doesn’t—but he untucks his fists from his tightly folded arms and takes Mikey’s hands when they’re offered. 

“Don’t burn it down,” he says seriously. “I work here.”

“So I’ve heard,” Mikey replies. “And we’re gonna have to have a fun talk about that once I’m a hundred percent certain all your insides are where they’re supposed to be. But for now, how ‘bout we blow this popsicle stand? There’s baked pasta at home with your name all over it.”

Gio blinks, eyelids heavy and sticking, and follows his hands toward the ones holding them, leaning until his big brother is the only one responsible for keeping him upright. Task assigned, Gio’s eyes slip closed and the tense line in his shoulders go lax and the whole of him gets abruptly heavier as he falls asleep. 

Sometimes Mikey is forcefully reminded of how much Gio trusts him, even though he’s done laughably little to deserve it. He didn’t not call because he didn’t think Mikey would come for him—just the opposite. And that’s not ideal, it’s something they still need to work on, but—

Mikey wraps his arms around the smaller turtle the way he’s wanted to since the second he first laid eyes on him, snug and tight and safe. 

It’s not ideal, but it matters so much. 

“The witch had us all put down our phone numbers so she could contact us about side effects to look out for,” Woody said quietly, “but that tough guy of yours took off as soon as we got the all-clear.”

“Of course he did,” Mikey said with exhausted affection. 

“I could forward the text to you when I get it?” Woody offers. He manages to look flustered through all that silky fur. It’s so easy for him to be kind, to take the risk and reach out. He’s painfully likable, the way Mikey used to be likable. 

Mikey presses his cheek to the top of Gio’s head and holds onto what sometimes feels like the only person he has left to hold onto and tries not to think about used-to-bes. Tries not to think about all the ways he falls short anymore. Tries not to think about all the people he’s let down. He failed once when he was a teenager in such a big way that he got stuck in the rut of it and never stopped. 

He already wishes for a hundred impossible things in a day, so what’s one more? 

“That’d be great,” he manages. “Thanks.”

He senses Raph before he hears him—even if he hadn’t, Woody’s faint “holy cats” would have been enough of a cue. Mikey doesn’t know how long his big brother has been hanging back, waiting for the right moment to approach, but if he had to guess he’d say probably since about ten seconds after Mikey got here. 

His silent offer to take Gio while Mikey exchanges numbers with Woody is perhaps the most surprising thing that’s happened all night. He cranes his head back to stare up at him, trying to remember one—even one—instance of Raph willingly reaching out to their formerly-estranged little brother. 

Raph’s expression is complicated, too many things going on for Mikey to parse before it smooths out again. “I got ‘im, Ange,” he says, more rueful than anything. “I know a thing or two about relocating sleeping turtles.”

Words notwithstanding, it’s been a long, long time since Raph has carried a smaller turtle anywhere, and he’s remembering how to do it in real time as Mikey passes Gio over. One big thumb brushes over a spotted shoulder. Raph at twenty-seven is a giant of a mutant, and Gio is next to nothing next to him, and holding him probably feels like being slingshot back in time. The slim curve of his black shell fits in Raph’s arm perfectly. 

“Don’t drop him,” Mikey orders. 

“Hey,” Raph says, only slightly too brittle to pass as playful, and Mikey doesn’t know which one of them he’s trying to convince when he goes on, “Raph would never.” 

And he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. They make it back to the van without incident, Mikey’s phone feeling oddly heavy in his pocket, weighed down with one new contact. Raph doesn’t speak up again until they’re halfway home. 

“He seemed nice,” Raph comments.

“Do not,” Mikey shuts it down. 

“Okay, okay.” A blissful fifteen seconds of some Top 40s song on the radio goes by, and they stop for a crosswalk light, and Raph says, “He did, though. Seem nice.”

Woody was nice. He looked out for Mikey’s little brother, and stuck around to keep Mikey company when it would have made more sense for him to wash his hands of their whole situation the second he was free to. He didn’t question any of the things Mikey was halfway braced for him to—the black snaking marks on Mikey’s arms that he didn’t think to cover up on his mad dash out the door, the dozens of faded scars on Gio’s hands and arms that wouldn’t look out of place on a profession pit-fighter, the overly-cautious way Raph handled Gio, like he was a bomb that might go off any second. He just made light-hearted conversation and let Mikey exist beside him. He didn’t know who Mikey used to be, he didn’t need anything from the person Mikey was now. 

“The nicest thing I could do for him is stay far, far away,” Mikey says to the passenger seat window. “Since the only thing I know how to do for people is let them down.” 

“That has never been true,” Raph says immediately. The raw hurt in his voice makes Mikey feel wretched and small. “Everyone who knows you is so lucky, Mikey. And we all know it. We know how lucky we are, sunshine.”

Mikey curls his shoulders up to his ears and turns his face more firmly away. He’s too old to cry but the window won’t tell anyone.

Much, much later—after Gio has been herded into the living room and bundled onto the sofa, a big bowl of reheated pasta in his lap that he manages to soldier through—after he mumbles, halfway into the Lou Jitsu DVD Mikey put on, “I thought I heard Raphael. Was he here?” and then dozes off again before Mikey can come up with a good answer—after Donnie makes a frowning appearance in the doorway, observing the pile his two little brothers make on the sofa like he’s conducting the world’s easiest headcount before wordlessly taking himself away again—after all of that, Mikey’s phone chimes.

Woody🌼🐶 I told my sister about being literally cursed at work and she spiraled and ordered like ten dozen cookies as restitution???  <attachment> Woody🌼🐶 She says half of them are for your brother and i cant stress enough that she is the type of person who chooses violence at the earliest opportunity so like I need you to come get these before I eat the wrong one and take my life into my own hands

Against his will, and despite his better judgment, Mikey smiles.