#walk away. instead of like ''UGH now not only do i feel too bad to finish my excursion but ALSO i have a 40 min car ride ahead of me''

[icewindandboringhorror]

While I don't know much about it, I would probably bet there are tons of issues with the cruise industry that would make me not actually appreciate it broadly speaking - HOWEVER, I do really love a lot of the interior design of some cruise ships.. How it's almost like a miniature city crammed into one area. Multiple sections with all different aesthetic designs, a variety of shops, restaurants, activity centers, community seating areas, communal use spaces (like gyms, laundry, pools, cafeteria/buffet (which I always love anywhere)), etc. etc. but then also everyone has a little nice clean comfortable looking space of their own to retreat back to if they'd like to be alone. Maybe it's something akin to the idea of 'walkable cities', where everything you could ever want to do is kind of right there just a short walk away? I also especially love how so much stuff is stacked on top of other stuff, a layered cluster of spaces, bright open atriums, and when they're set up with little walkways down the center between a bunch of rooms so it's almost like a mini city street with apartments lining it, etc.. They often seem like they'd be SUCH a cool place to live permanently, IF only something identical was just built on solid land instead lol

[lovebugism]

hi! i saw you were looking for some eddie requests for your summer fic fest and i have a wee lightbulb

friends to lovers pool day with eddie where a) he’s never seen the reader in a swimsuit before and his head is short circuiting and b) rhey apply each other’s sunscreen and they’re all blushy and UGH

thank you for the request angel :D — you and eddie have trouble pretending you aren't in love with each other while at a beach day with the gang (friends to lovers, grumpy!eddie, grumpy!reader-ish | 1.6k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The white sand is warm and heavy on Eddie’s feet. He buries them beneath the soft granules until his ankles are covered — until the fine grains, now heated by the merciless summer sun, start to burn his pale, delicate skin. It hurts less than how much he misses you, anyway. 

Ten minutes gone, and it feels like an entire lifetime has passed without you. Eddie’s left grieving about it, like a gloomy stormcloud beneath a very blue sky. His soft features are screwed into a very boyish pout that will likely stain his face the rest of the day. Or until you coddle him, whichever comes first.

“Jesus— Did you guys get lost on the way to the room or somethin’?” Steve Harrington chuckles from where he sits a few longue chairs down, dark eyes peeking over the tops of his darker sunglasses. 

Eddie’s head whips over his shoulder to follow his gaze. His heart swells into his throat at the sight of you.

You and Robin walk side by side, kicking up grains of white sand as you go, and looking like total opposites. The latter’s lean, freckled figure is adorned with a pair of jean shorts that go down to her knees and a plain black sports bra instead of a real bikini. 

Your sunkissed skin, meanwhile, clashes just perfectly with the pretty white two-piece you wear — patterned with an array of fruits and flowers. Peaches and oranges and strawberries. Daisies and hydrangeas and lavenders. The cups are a size too small for your breasts. The bottoms sit high up on your waist to display the expanse of your plush thighs.

Eddie forgets how to breathe.

“We got lost on the way to the gift shop, actually,” you quip when you’re in earshot again, squinting one eye to block the sun.

“Yeah,” Robin grouses. “’Cause you forgot to pack the sunscreen, Stevie.”

The boy’s scruffy face screws into a cartoonish look of offense. “You said you were bringing it!” he argues, gesturing to you with a wild hand.

“No— I said I was bringing everything else and that your one job was to remember the sunscreen.”

Steve settles back into his seat then — likely with the acknowledgment that he had, in fact,  forgotten the only thing he was supposed to do. “Oh…” he grimaces sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” you sigh.

“You owe me seven dollars, though,” Robin monotones, then turns suddenly away. Her chopped locks swish around her shoulders as she squints at the water. “Here, Nance! Catch!” she shouts. The rest of you flinch at the volume of her voice.

The brunette girl looks over her shoulder from where she wades in the water with Jonathan (who’s still getting over his fear of open water, it seems, as he grips onto the girl’s hand for dear life.) Her sharp features pinch in a distant look of confusion. “What?!” she shouts back, tucking a rogue curl behind her ear when it billows in her face.

Robin opts to throw her the bottle of sunscreen, even though her eyesight’s almost as bad as her hand-eye coordination. The thing lands several feet away from its intended recipient — momentarily succumbed to the tides until Jonathan retrieves it from underwater.

In the split second of following silence, you turn to look at Eddie, who’s been uncharacteristically silent since you walked up. His face is all screwed like he’s pouting as his chocolate gaze darts up and down your form. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask him, laughing.

His eyes make one more pass over your body — savoring the sight of your bare thighs and tummy and chest — ‘cause he’s never seen so much of you before. “Did you walk all the way to the gift shop like that?” he deadpans.

You bounce a sunkissed shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Yeah?”

“…You didn’t break any necks on the way back, did you?” he teases, peering at you beneath his long lashes in a playfully solemn look.

Your chest warms with something more sparkling than a burn from the sun. You roll your eyes and avert your gaze to the bottle of sunblock in your fist. “Shut up and turn around,” you grumble.

Eddie watches you squeeze a dollop of lotion onto your palm and protests, “I’ll put some on my tattoos, but that’s it.”

“Putting sunscreen just on your tattoos doesn’t count,” you monotone.

“I hate the feeling of it, though…” he complains.

“Don’t care,” you lilt with a sweet smile. “Now turn around.”

Eddie concedes with less arguing than you’d expect. 

He huffs and turns his back to you, pretending to be annoyed to cover up how giddy he truly is. He knows there’s something deeper in your badgering — people don’t get so concerned about something as silly as sunscreen for people they don’t give a shit about. The thought makes his heart beat a little faster.

You warm the lotion between your palms before spreading it over his shoulders. His pale skin, glowing softly red already, is spotted with sparse freckles you could count if you wanted to.

Eddie tenses under your touch. “It’s cold,” he whines.

“Stop being a baby and move your hair outta the way.”

He grumbles like a storm cloud and parts his curls over his shoulders for you. Your hands trace the expanse of his back in a softer touch than he thought anyone was capable of. His skin buzzes accordingly.

You slap him hard on the arm a second alter. “There. All done.”

“Your turn,” Eddie insists, perhaps a hair too quickly to be casual, as he rises from the creaking longue chair. He manhandles you in front of him with gentle hands. Your feet shuffle in the sand as you let him.

“Fine— But don’t be annoying about it,” you scold with a stern look over your shoulder, passing the plastic bottle behind you.

Eddie scoffs. “Never once crossed my mind,” he promises, very playfully sincere, as he squirts a heavy glob of sunblock onto his palm. 

The cream is cold and heavy as he presses into your skin. You grimace, “Eddie!”

“What?” he exclaims in a similar tone, then smiles wickedly to himself. “It’s just sunscreen— don’t be such a baby.”

“That’s gonna take forever to rub in. You know that, right?”

“More fun for me,” he shrugs.

“Perv.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

He pokes you hard in the shoulder. You flash him a glare. “Don’t be such a freak.”

Eddie laughs as he rubs the sunscreen into your skin — warm and sunkissed and supple under his guitar-string-calloused fingers. His thumbs dip at your lower back, and he has to remind himself to breathe. It’s hard to, though, with his heart in his throat and all. 

When the lotion’s sufficiently melted into your skin, he pats you twice on the waist. “There. See? Easy peasy,” he teases. “I’d put some on your legs, too, but I don’t wanna be too forward.”

You scoff and sit in the beach chair beside him, feet in the sand as you stay facing him. “I think I got it from here, Eds. Thanks, though.”

“Figured,” he sighs and settles into his own seat. 

He tilts his chin to his shoulder, squeezing one eye shut from the sun. He watches you smooth sunblock over your thighs and tries to find something to say in the meantime. He struggles to make the words out, though, so he ends up just staring at you for several long moments.

“That’s, uh— That is a real cute bathing suit, though,” he ends up stammering. “Just, you know, by the way.”

You smear lotion over your calf with careful hands and peer at him beneath your lashes. “I figured that from your ogling,” you tease with a knowing smirk.

Eddie squirms. “Well… What about me, huh? I don’t get a compliment?”

You sit up straight again, trying not to smile too wide. “Well, you look very cute today, Eddie Spaghetti,” you lilt in a mocking tone, ‘cause sincerity’s never been your strong suit.

“Just today?” he murmurs, flashing you a doe-eyed look of expectancy.

“Maybe a little extra today,” you squint.

Eddie huffs and looks away, crossing his bare arms over his chest. His boyish dramatics are obviously meant to make a point, but really, it just gives you a chance to ogle at his happy trail without him noticing.

“Well, I think you’re pretty all the time,” he pouts.

“Shut up,” you laugh, cheeks warming.

“I’m serious!” he insists, then grows playfully sheepish. “But obviously, you don’t feel the same way—”

“Eds.”

“—Obviously, I think you’re unconditionally perfect, and you think I’m only perfect with conditions. It’s fine.”

You blink at him for several long moments, glare unwavering. Eddie maintains his pout in spite. “You’re just fishing for a compliment now, aren’t you?” you deadpan.

Eddie thinks for a moment, then nods. “A little bit. Yeah,” he confesses.

You rise from your seat with a huff, shaking your head and rubbing excess sunblock between your palms. Your body looms beside him. He can smell the coconut-strawberry concoction on your sunkissed skin from here. The summer sun shines in rays behind your head like a halo. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Munson,” you sigh in a honeyed voice before bending at the waist to kiss his cheek. 

Your lips just barely brush his glowing skin. He’s left buzzing about it anyway when you walk away from him, hardly apologetic for the state you’ve left him in.

He tries to come up with some stupid rebuttal to shout at you, but nothing comes to mind quick enough. His brain is full of nothing but static. He’s got a frog in his throat, too. He couldn’t say anything if he tried.

So, instead, Eddie watches silently as you saunter towards the tide with his wild head tilted to his shoulder, admiring the pretty view. (He’s not talking about the water.)

[brunchable]

POV: You're sucked into your fanfic - Part One

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fanfic Writer Reader.

Themes: Comedy - Chaotic Reader. Action scenes.

Summary: Waking up in a forest straight out of her own fanfic was not on Y/N's to-do list, especially not when she’s suddenly the villain about to fight Bucky Barnes. Decked out in an impractical gothic outfit, complete with a corset she can barely breathe in, Y/N realizes she’s written herself into a showdown she’s destined to lose. But instead of following the plot, she’s fangirling while getting her butt kicked by her fictional crush—and making things even worse with every sarcastic comment. Bucky thinks she’s insane. Y/N thinks she’s in heaven. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Isn't this anyone's dream? LOL to live your favorite fanfic LMAO.

You yawn as you type away on your laptop, the dim light of your screen the only illumination in the room. It’s late—way too late—and your bed calls to you, but you’re deep in the middle of a new scene for your latest Bucky Barnes fanfic. This one is different. This one is more intense, more dramatic. You smirk at the screen as you write your villainess character, who’s about to have a showdown with none other than Bucky.

“I’ll finish this tomorrow,” you tell yourself, half-heartedly knowing that you won’t. You glance at the clock and wince at the time. Ugh, work in the morning... okay, just five more minutes.

But even as you type that last line, exhaustion takes over, and your eyelids droop heavily. Before you know it, your fingers still on the keyboard, your head hits the pillow, and the world fades to black.

× × × ×

You wake up with a start, a cold breeze biting at your skin. Sitting up abruptly, you blink against the sudden brightness of your surroundings. Trees? The smell of wet earth? Slowly, you stand, your heart racing as you take in the unfamiliar scene around you.

Wait... This looks familiar. Too familiar.

The clearing. The night. The ominous, misty forest that surrounds you. No way...

The scene clicks in your head. This is the exact setting of your fanfic. The one where your villainess has her big moment—where she’s supposed to face Bucky in an epic, final showdown.

“Okay... maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’m still asleep,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your eyes. But the cold wind is sharp, the sounds of the forest too real. You frown and glance down at yourself.

Your stomach drops.

You’re not wearing your usual pajamas. Instead, you’re decked out in a gothic nightmare of an outfit. Long black cloak, intricately laced corset, and leather boots that look cool in theory but are so tight you can barely walk. You tug at the uncomfortable collar of your dress, feeling more like a cosplayer gone wrong than a terrifying villain.

“Oh no. No, no, no...” You spin around, trying to figure out what’s happening. “This can’t be happening. I did not just wake up in my own fanfic!”

But before you can even begin to comprehend your situation, a voice cuts through the trees. A voice you know all too well.

“Give it up, villain. You’re not going to win.”

Your breath hitches, and you freeze. Slowly, you turn around to see none other than Bucky Barnes, in all his intimidating glory, walking out from the shadows, his metal arm gleaming under the moonlight.

Holy crap, he’s real. He’s actually real.

But there’s one problem. He’s looking at you like you’re his enemy.

“Well?” Bucky’s deep voice breaks through your panicked thoughts. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Your mind goes blank. All those hours spent imagining this very moment, and now that it’s happening, all you can do is stand there, gawking like an idiot.

“I, uh... look, Bucky—” you start, but then it hits you. You’re the villain in this story. The bad guy. He has no idea you’re just a fanfic writer who’s been plopped into this nightmare.

You quickly glance around for an escape route. But there’s nothing except more trees, mist, and darkness. No way out. And then you remember what comes next in the story. The fight scene. A scene you wrote yourself... with the villain—you—losing.

Oh god. I am so screwed.

Trying to think fast, you wave your hands in surrender. “Wait, wait, wait! We don’t have to do this. Can we just, like, talk about this?”

Bucky’s eyes narrow, suspicion clear on his face. He takes a step closer, hand twitching toward his gun. “Nice try. I know your tricks.”

You cringe. Of course he wouldn’t believe you—you wrote him to be suspicious of every word the villain said!

“I’m serious!” you squeak, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. “You don’t want to fight me. I, uh... I surrender! Yeah, I totally surrender.”

But Bucky doesn’t back down. In fact, he steps even closer, and now you can see the lethal determination in his eyes. “Surrender, huh? Sounds like a trap.”

You mentally slap yourself for writing him to be this distrustful. Why did I make him so paranoid?!

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you ramble, desperately searching for a way out. “You’re probably thinking I’m trying to pull a fast one on you, but I swear, I’m not evil. Not really. It’s... complicated.”

Bucky doesn’t look convinced, and honestly, you wouldn’t be either if you were him. He raises his metal arm threateningly, ready to fight, and you know you’re out of time.

In one last-ditch effort, you blurt out, “Wait! I love you!”

That stops him in his tracks. His brow furrows in confusion. “What?”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. Did I just say that out loud?

“Yes! I mean—no! I mean...” You fumble for words, feeling your face flush. “What I meant was, you’re amazing. You’re... everything. I’ve, um, admired you for so long, and I really don’t want to fight you. I’m just... a huge fan?”

Bucky stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. “A fan?”

You nod furiously, praying this works. “Yes! A huge fan. Of your work. Uh, your missions? And, you know, your... metal arm? It’s so shiny and, uh... powerful.”

He stares at you for a long moment, clearly baffled by your bizarre behavior. “This is a trick, isn’t it?”

You groan internally. Of course he’d think that. You wrote him to be impossible to convince!

Meanwhile, Bucky’s stance shifts, preparing for a fight. You realize with growing dread that if you don’t come up with something fast, you’re going to get your butt kicked by your fictional crush.

And it’s all your fault.

× × × × 

Without warning, Bucky lunges forward, and you yelp, instinctively trying to duck, but the heavy corset makes it hard to move.

“Wait! I’m serious! We can talk this out—oof!” You squeak as Bucky’s metal arm knocks you flat on your back.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, lying on the ground, staring up at the stars. I’m getting my butt kicked by Bucky Barnes. This is the best and worst day of my life.

Before you can even get your bearings, Bucky grabs you by the arm and flips you up like you weigh nothing. You manage to stand, but just barely, wobbling in your ridiculous boots.

“Oh my God, he’s strong,” you whisper in awe, dazed. “This is like, the hottest thing ever—wait, no, focus!”

Bucky, looking at you with complete disbelief, narrows his eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

You try to explain, but then he sweeps your legs out from under you, and down you go again. This time you land face-first in the dirt.

“Hnggh... I deserved that,” you mumble into the ground. “I wrote this. I brought this on myself.”

You roll over, still fangirling, despite the pain. “Wow, even in pain, you’re gorgeous.”

Bucky looms over you, looking more confused than ever. “Are you hitting on me while I’m kicking your ass?”

“Yes,” you wheeze, still on the ground, clutching your ribs. “I regret nothing.”

Bucky sighs heavily, and for a split second, you think you catch a flash of amusement in his eyes. “You’re insane.”

You grin up at him, despite the dirt smeared across your face and the throbbing ache in your back. “I’ve been told that before.”

He shakes his head, clearly still trying to make sense of the situation, but you can tell he’s holding back laughter now. You’ve confused him, at least. That’s something.

“So... are you gonna help me up?” you ask hopefully, extending a hand.

Bucky stares down at you for a long moment, then mutters, “You’re not even a good villain.”

“Don’t remind me.” You groan dramatically. “It’s harder than it looks.”

With a roll of his eyes, he finally relents and pulls you to your feet again—though not without a little extra force that nearly sends you stumbling again.

You clutch your chest, still a bit winded, but can’t help the goofy smile on your face. I just got beat up by Bucky Barnes. And it was glorious.

× × × ×

You’re still catching your breath from being unceremoniously flipped, kicked, and restrained when Bucky wraps his metal arm around your waist and hauls you up against him, keeping a firm grip on you. He pulls out a pair of cuffs—the same cuffs you wrote about, of course—and slaps them onto your wrists.

“W-What are you doing?” you sputter, still in awe at how close you are to him now. You stare at his arm holding you in place, feeling your heart race like a schoolgirl with a crush. “Oh my god, am I being arrested? By Bucky Barnes? This is... this is a dream come true.”

Bucky looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Stop talking.”

“No, seriously. Where are you taking me?” you ask, wiggling in his grip but mostly just to make yourself more comfortable because—holy hell, his muscles are everywhere. You’re about to pass out from sheer fangirl euphoria. “Is it to a secret Hydra base? Are you throwing me in the trunk of a car? Wait, is there gonna be an interrogation? Do you have a secret lair? Because if there’s a lair, I’d love a tour.”

He tightens his grip, hoisting you up with one hand as if you’re nothing more than a grocery bag. You flail your legs a bit but quickly stop, realizing how cool this actually is.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Bucky says gruffly, dragging you through the trees.

“Oh! Is this like one of those slow-burn captor-captive situations?” you say, eyes wide with excitement. “Are we going to have a moment of shared vulnerability? Will we bond over our tragic backstories? Because, listen, I wrote an entire chapter about this, and let me tell you, it’s steamy.”

Bucky stops dead in his tracks, clearly regretting every life decision that brought him here. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You grin, too giddy to care about the situation. “Oh, you’re gonna find out. I’m a lot.”

He lets out a long, frustrated sigh and continues dragging you through the forest like you’re a troublesome cat being hauled to the vet. You stumble along behind him, your boots still making it difficult to walk, but you’re too caught up in your own fantasies to care.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you gasp, pretending to be serious for a second. “Are you taking me to the Avengers? Am I about to meet Steve Rogers? Oh my god, if this is a prison transfer situation, I’ll take it. Honestly, throw me in a cell, just tell me Captain America’s on the other side of the bars.”

Bucky groans audibly, muttering under his breath. “You’re literally the worst villain I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, thank you!” You beam, still being pulled along like a rag doll. “I tried to make my villain complex, you know? With layers. You’ll see. There’s more to me than just an evil laugh and a cool outfit. I have depth! Trauma! A tragic backstory, even!”

Bucky finally stops and spins you around, looking you dead in the eyes. “Shut. Up.”

You blink up at him, biting your lip to suppress a fangirl squeal. “Wow, even when you’re angry, you’re hot.”

For a second, you think Bucky might actually lose his patience with you, but instead, he just rolls his eyes and resumes dragging you through the forest.

“You’re taking me to the Avengers, aren’t you? You can tell me! I won’t spoil it for anyone,” you whisper conspiratorially. “I mean, you know, since I’m totally going to escape and wreak havoc... right after I meet everyone and maybe take a group photo.”

Bucky doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he hoists you up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and starts walking faster. Your head bounces a little with each step, but you can’t help but notice how strong he is.

“Is this the part where I pretend to hate being manhandled, or...?”

Another groan from Bucky. He’s definitely considering just leaving you tied to a tree at this point.

You sigh dramatically as you dangle over his shoulder. “You know, I could help you with your characterization. Maybe throw in some emotional depth, give you some really meaningful dialogue in your next big scene. Maybe a nice brooding monologue... You’re into those, right?”

“Where I’m taking you,” Bucky says, his tone clipped, “there won’t be any brooding. Or talking.”

You perk up. “Oh! Silent treatment? Broody captor vibes? I love it.”

You can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off him as he mutters, “I need a vacation.”

With a smirk, you reply, “I’m free this weekend.”

[lil-annonie]

0UT LIKE A LIGHT. —SATORU GOJO.

SYNOPSIS. Realization truly hit you hard. Only a shame it didn't hit him to realize the damage he's done.

CW. Modern!au. CEO!Gojo.

WC. 1688

A/N. I need sleep. Why is there sigma in my maths. No actually, STATISTICS. wgat the fuck is taht n why am I looking for SIGMA. 😞 I might actually fail this quarter cause I've failed almost every quiz, though my performances are PEAK. But ugh im not gonna be an honor student oh god. Ion wanna get smacked n get my door n phone taken away ugh 😣 update. there is no phone to get cause..heh..i broke it

What good is a luxurious estate for two if he never comes home?

All you can do to feel closure is to lay on the king sized bed and reminisce what it feels like to lay and be with him again.

But reminiscing isn't the right word. You can't deny that the majority of times like these all you really try to do is to try and remember what it feels.

It's not like Gojo left you. You don't think he has plans on leaving you; after all, he does drain and drown himself with work for his family. For you.

But then again.

What good is spoiling you if he isn't even there to accompany you in buying things and having fun? You feel guilty for being so ungrateful.

Poor Gojo is only doing what he has to. He has heavier weights on his shoulders than you ever will! You should be happy you can go wherever you want whenever you want instead of having to balance a big corporation by a big clan and a relationship, unlike him.

But he himself isn't balancing it all too well.

.

..

...

You just miss your husband. You're not trying to be a brat. It's not your fault you think he needs to spend a little more time with you.

...

Whining about your problems in your own mind won't help. It'll probably make it worse.

You realize every problem would all just water down to the same question,

"What good?"

What good is spending countless date nights together surrounded by art materials, you and him work and make memories while making a love journal,

"Satoru, that's too much supplies!" You scold your partner. The sight of him carrying two bags full of art materials making you concerned about how much money he spent on such silly things. He laughs at your reaction, taking your hand and walking in your dorm and to your room, setting the bags down on the fluffy carpet beside your bed.

"Nothing to worry about, sweets. Money is the least of poor worries." Gojo assures you, sitting down and pulling you next to him. "C'mon now, let's start making the journal already! I've been waiting for this moment for ages! "

Only for him to never engage in any dates you, or even himself had planned?

"Evenin' Toru... Are you free for tonight? You know we have a date. Ev'n marked it on our calendar, you know." Another sent right to the voicemail. It's the 5th one by now. It's well past the time of your reservation yet you still hope. One last time. One more try before you give up and change out of your clothes and pull out wine.

"If you can't come it's.. Alright. I—.. We can still plan another one anytime, like you said the last time. And the last. Before that, too—.. Ah, forget it. I'm sorry for sounding mad. Uh, please just. Uhm. Don't drown yourself with work, Satoru. It's bad for you." For us. "Goodnight, 'Toru. Wake me up if you come back or uh.. Text me if you can't. Bye. I love you."

What good were the long early morning walks with your hands holding, fingers intertwined as you and him walk over to a café to grab coffee (Gojo gets hot chocolate instead, disliking the bitter taste of coffee.) And take a seat at the park yapping each other's ears off as you both make a bucket list, sharing a pen and writing down your dreams in the love journal both of you created,

After Gojo finishes writing down what he wants to do with you and adding it on the bucket list, you take the pen he was offering and write down yours. Your eyes scan the almost-filled bucket list and end up in the latest one Gojo wrote. "♡Start a family!♡" in bold letters with hearts and rainbows all around the words.

"Really planning ahead huh, 'Toru?" You huff out a laugh and look at him, the faint blush he has makes you want to attack his cheeks with kisses. "With all those hearts too!"

"You can't tell me you haven't thought of it." He fights back. But he's right..you really can't tell him that. "With you, I wouldn't mind starting a family." "Awh. Come on, sweets.. Give me a clear answer!" "Okay, okay! Yes. I do want to start a family with you, better?"

"Imagine what our child would look like, I wonder whose hair color they would get.. Can't I just br—" with already a blushing face, you get more red. "Satoru! We're in college and in public. You can't just blurt that out!"

If he doesn't even make time from the both of you to cross out at least one word in the list?

Though it's pathetic, you still hold the feeling of nostalgia. Your prime. Yours and his prime, when you were the couple of the campus. You hold those memories dearly.

You wouldn't mind rummaging through the old boxes on the very corners of the attic to find something to hold on to. No matter how much dust, insects, and heat tries to go to you, you will do it for the journal.

So you do.

After an hour or two did you finally find it. Old and dusty, but still in pretty good shape for a book that stayed in such a place for such a time.

You get jumped by the first page of the journal.

"Bucket list! <3"

the list went on. It filled the whole page. Front to back, even. From "Bahamas!" To "try every damn fast food restaurant fry."

Each word came with a good remembrance of the times you or him wrote the words down, each little memory having it's own adorable conversation between you two.

But each word forced you to remember each rejected and ignored plan you had and shared with your dear Satoru.

"They called me for a meeting. I'm busy."

"Please, sweets. You know how hard it is for me to get a day off."

"I'm tired."

Excuses on and on and on. He knows those excuses don't make you any less sad, yet he still does it. Does he do it to spite you and your pathetic attempts? Does he know how cruel he is? Trying to slip and dodge every piece of affection thrown at him. As if being neglected by your own lover isn't bad enough!

What good are passing those old crumpled papers the both of you passed to each other way back in highschool, old papers filled with little names for your future children, even a whole reason about the name,

Expecting Satoru to pass you the paper back with a reply, he instead puts it under his notebook and pulls out another piece of paper, scribbling something out with big letters before covering your view with another book of his. Huh, weeirrrddd.

A few minutes later, he grabs your attention by nudging his boot against your sandal under the table, sliding the paper to you when you give him a glance.

"NAMEZZ! 𖤐𖨆"

• nouitzki. Nowitzki?? Idk

➥ sounds rich asf. Matching name = status righhhtt?? keh heh. :p

You look at him again, and he looks at you. He looks genuine. The way Gojo looks while he waits for you to write something down, his body nearly facing yours as he rests his face on his palm. Mouthing out a "c'mon.." with a smile on his face.

if sleeping with him in the same room without his call ringtone disturbing him and you every three seconds is such a rare event?

Why does he keep prioritizing such useless calls from whoever the fuck politician, celebrity, or another nepo baby is calling?

"Satoru... r' they calling again? It looks so dark outside n' late.. Can't they take a break.." You groan as your eyes still try to get used to the light from the sudden open lamp, you feel your lover hug you tightly and kiss your forehead before he sighs. "Yes, sweets, they are.. M' sorry."

Gojo sounds like he dreads responding to the caller. He is. He keeps his arms tight around you and his lips on your skin, letting the ringtone go off for a few seconds before carefully sitting up and reaching for his vibrating phone.

You don't bother listening in the conversation after that and continue sleeping, only waking up when you feel his lips against your forehead again, whispering apologies before walking out the room.

You want to remind him about the words that came out of his lying little mouth just a few hours ago, about how he'll stay till sunrise, but you know he's also tired and telling him that will just make him feel like shit. So you don't. You still love him, after all.

..

... Yeah.

back then, people noticing his absence whenever you went to events or parties alone felt good, the thought of your acquaintances expecting you with him or vice versa gives you the feeling of bliss.

but now.. oh wow.

everywhere you go, questions bringing up your husband's absence would endlessly haunt you. sure hurts like a bitch.

how cruel it is to actually know by experience that bullshit as simple as a family corporation can break love you thought only death could break apart.

you cant do this anymore.

Gojo doesn't completely try to ignore you, but you realize the more you and him aren't together, the more the relationship feels like downgrading to a simple friendship.

its not just his ignorance, no.

As time passes by he becomes a complete stranger.

the mutual interests you both loved would fade, and he would pour his stress on you. though not screaming matches, fortunately, it was words that were equipped with armour and swords, aiming straight to the heart.

you make a plan instead.

if he loves leaving you behind without notice, you would to.

fuck a letter.

maybe someday he would get back to his senses, maybe one day you and him would meet again.

A/N. Chat I accidentally posted this twice instead of saving it as draft. Am I cooked 😞also im so sorry if there are any repeated like situations n stuff i do not beta read n i dont have time to see errors oh and the ending was rushed. i do not know how to end a story im sorry also ts ws started on oct 2. ive put all tears and sweat and blood to keep continuing

[greynatomy]

unexpected

katie mccabe x reader

this was requested from wp

kinda made caitlin as the ‘bad guy’ but it’s for the plot

i also updated my rules for requesting and added the footballer who i’ll take requests for

———

Another day, another training done for the Arsenal women’s team. Katie sat on the sidelines, catching her breath and winding down from the scrimmage. As she’s drinking from her bottle, a shadow casts over her.

“Hi, Katie.”

“Caitlin.” She acknowledges the Australian.

“Uh, well, I was wondering if you wanted to try this restaurant I found last week?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They have really amazing food. So?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll tell the team.”

“No, wait.” She tries to clear up her intentions, but Katie already walked away. “Great.”

Two hours later, the whole team had met at ‘Sapori’ and waited at the front of the building for everyone to show up.

“Hey.”

Looking to her left, she see’s Caitlin shuffling closer to her.

“Hi.”

“This is a really great restaurant. The ambiance is amazing so I’m glad you’re here to try it out.” Caitlin breaks the moment of awkwardness.

Katie’s lips form a tight smile. “Yeah, I’ve only heard great things.”

“Alright, let’s head in.” They heard Leah say as everyone that could make it has finally shown up.

It took a while for everyone to figure out where ghey want to sit, but they made it work. Katie took her place at one end of the table, Caitlin taking place on her left side.

Conversations were flowing freely, everyone with a smile on their face. Katie was chatting it up with Beth and Viv when she feels a hand delicately going up and down her arm, making her flinch her arm away.

“What’re you doin’?” Katie snaps, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry, just wanted your attention.” Caitlin frowns.

“Okay.” She slowly nods. “Just don’t do that again.”

The food came out soon after, everyone hungry and diggin in.

“Sorry, excuse me? We didn’t order these.” Leah spoke up when extra dishes were placed on the table. Katie didn’t care, she dug into all that she could reach.

“These are just some dishes that the owner would like you all to try.”

“Well, please thank her for us.”

Everyone was in their own little groups talking about anything and everything at the same time. A couple of moments go by when Katie feels small hands on her thighs. Looking down she sees a little girl who seems to try and get onto her lap. So what does she do? she helps the girl up, getting her comfortable on her lap and wrapping an arm around her.

Said child, once content on Katie’s lap, grabs the fork and starts eating the food in front of her. Katie occasionally wipes her mouth with a napkin, the child unbothered by it.

Too occupied in helping the kid eat, she doesn’t see the looks on her friends’ faces. The group silently observes Katie and the kid, seeing how comfortable they are with each other.

The kid turns in Katie’s lap, hands going on both cheeks pulling her close. Katie thinks she’s going for a kiss so she leans down, except instead of a kiss, the gnocchi that was once in the kid’s mouth, was now in Katie’s.

“Ugh, Em! Not again.” She spits it out, wiping her mouth after. All Emmy does is laugh and goes back to eating. A couple of throats can be heard clearing, making Katie look up to see all her friends staring at her. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You’ve got a child on your lap.”

“Ye’ and?”

“Who’s child is that?”

“Completely hers.” A voice speaks up before Katie could answer. “She’s a menace and gets it from her mammy.”

“Mamma! Io mangio!”

“I can see! You’ve got sauce all over your face.” You wipe her face with a napkin. “How are you guys enjoying everything?” You ask the group.

“Oh, it’s amazing! Best thing I’ve ever eaten!” Beth exclaims.

“Who are you?” Caitlin asks.

“I am the owner of Sapori, Y/N McCabe. So nice to meet all of you. And yes, I know the last name isn’t Italian, but I just so happened to fall for an Irish.”

“Oi! Don’t make it seem like that’s a bad thing.”

“Oi!” Emmy echos.

“Wait!” Kyra says very loudly. “McCabe? So does that mean Katie’s your—”

“—Wife? Yes, unfortunately.”

“You’re beeing cheeky. Stop it.” She boops your nose.

You start to pick up some of the empty plates, giving everyone a smile.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’re you doin’?”

“I’m gonna take these back?”

“You’re not allowed to carry anything!”

“Katie, babe. I’m pregnant, not crippled. Plus, I’m barely even showing.”

“Aww, you’re pregnant?” Kyra goes to touch your stomach, but her hand gets smacked away by Katie.

“Katie! Be nice. And yes, I am.”

As the rest of the team fusses over Emmy and your belly, Caitlin decides to speak to Katie.

“So, you’re married?”

“Yup.”

“Why’d you make it seem like you were interested in me.” Katie didn’t know if she was being serious or not, but started laughing out loud.

“I don’t know what you’re on about mate. Probably just a figment of your imagination.”

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness (11)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Now is your time to survive. Will you swallow your words? Or spit them and face the consequences, both good and bad?

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Alright... I can do this. This'll be a piece of cake." You paced yourself, walking around your room to clear your dooming thoughts.

"Nothing bad is going to happen; this isn't like back then. I'm in my room, where I can control what happens and when something happens. How much worse could my situation possibly get? The worst characters in the entire game are here, in my house already. It physically can't get any worse!"

"Shut up! You sound like a cult of fat Mitachurls dancing around a fire!" A Harbinger's voice shouted from downstairs, banging following their shouts.

"Break a hole in my ceiling and I swear to your archon I'll gouge out your eyes and bury them in my back garden!"

"Shuuuut up." The same voice shouted back quieter, going completely silent when another voice scolded them. You guessed it was a scolding, as their voice sounded authoritive despite being muffled. Pierro, perhaps.

This idea of yours better work. You're not fighting your past experiences for nothing! If these characters don't reply to you and make you sound (and look) like a dunce, you're done with the universe.

Speaking of being done with the universe, how on Earth did this even happen? It's not normal for fictional characters to know of the existence of people who created them. Are other games like this too? Or is Genshin Impact special in some way? And if it's just Genshin Impact, who's to say other Hoyoverse games don't have the same level of intelligence behind the characters?

It's a good thing you uninstalled Honkai Star Rail a month ago, who knows, it could have been the Stellaron Hunters in your house instead. Although... Arguably, you somehow think they'd be a lot better compared to the Harbingers.

Anyway, it's time to start your plan.

You booted up Genshin, eyeing the Celestia background hesitantly with shaking fingers, the sun in the background feeling more real considering your current circumstances.

Pushing your chair inwards in a hurry, you scrambled to get your notebook beside your PC to re-read the notes you wrote before. You didn't want to freeze up in the middle of your SOS speech, so you took it upon yourself to write key points of your argument and read them if you start feeling the anxiety creep in.

Ugh, thinking about how possibly the entirety of Teyvat was going to hear your voice scares you even more.

No, take deep breaths. The characters left aren't as evil as the Fatui, or have smart people such as Dottore or Sandrone. The only person you currently see as a threat is Albedo, but he shouldn't be a problem since his goal is to destroy Mondstadt.

You read your paper again:

Introduce yourself formally, keep it classy

Ask Aether what the FUCK the Harbingers think they're doing!!!

Beg Explain you could really use some help

Ask if there's any way someone on the other side, perhaps Albedo, could construct a portal to get these mangy, whining, murderous babies out of your house

Be polite, thank for listening, and wait for reply. Patience is key

If this little golden teenager with a ratty plait doesn't answer you, you're throwing your TV remote at your PC. ...Actually nevermind, it might come useful in the future.

Your screen suddenly loaded, the blinding white loading screen with each element fading to show the landscape. Your screen looked exactly how it did yesterday. With your Childe team, minus Childe obviously, in their idle animations outside of the Spiral Abyss portal in Mondstadt.

Okay, this is it. It's better to at least try rather than run away with cowardice. If you don't try, you'll never know whether it's actually possible to communicate with other characters. Also, in the small hope that the Harbingers leave your house, you can delete the game and start a new life. ...Hopefully.

You hesitantly went to the character selection screen and selected Aether, putting him in a team on his own with no other characters next to him. Noticeably, Arlecchino and surprisingly Wanderer aren't in the character menu either. Did the Harbinger's travel to Teyvat alter the course of history on their side? Interesting...

Now, where to communicate with him? Well, considering Signora is alive, the timeline must be just before or during Inazuma. Would staying in Mondstadt be a better place? Oh, who cares. You've got the guy in your party anyway. As long as he's there, it should be fine, right?

You selected the waypoint closest to Albedo's lab in Dragonspine, running to the camp and occasionally stopping to avoid freezing to death by using the orange seelies.

Then, you turn Aether's avatar to face you, his breath creating white vapour in the cold air of the mountain.

"So, uh, hello...!" You started, mumbling quietly as you scooch your chair back away from your desk.

No. Follow step one correctly, and be confident about it. You coughed before starting again, voice stronger but still quiet as to not alert the Harbingers.

"My name is Y/N, and I really need your help. I'm not sure what's happening on your side of things, and to be honest, I don't really care. If you haven't noticed on your journey by now, The 11 Fatui Harbingers have gone missing. Well, in your world anyway." You began.

"They somehow and miraculously ended up here, in my world. Specifically, my house. From what they've told me, they want to give me over to the Tsaritsa. I have no idea what that means, all I know is she'll probably kill me."

You waited for a response, any glitching similar to when Childe wasn't working in the abyss or visual cue to show someone (or something) was listening. You didn't see one, but continued anyway.

"I need your help to transport them back to Teyvat. I know what you're probably thinking, 'but the Fatui have been causing me problems on my journey to find my sister'. Unfortunately for you, they become important in developing your journey across each nation. I'm guessing you're currently in Inazuma or Liyue since Signora is still alive, even though I've brought you to Natlan? Ugh, this is so weird." You shook your head with a small grimace.

"Anyway, I'm really hoping you can hear me. If the Fatui of all possible people who could know of me are aware of my side and my existence, surely you and/or the Archons must know too? Maybe even the Abyss? After watching your journey in Natlan I can't stand them, but they did prove a long theory I had..."

You trailed off, hoping that maybe nobody replied to your speech because they were waiting for a moment you would stop so they could input. Alas, nothing changed. Aether was still as blank as ever, face unchanging to the world around him.

You tried everything to get a reaction. Kamera mode, Teapot mode, equipping different characters, changing locations, reloading the game... but nothing worked.

What were you doing wrong? If the Harbingers knew of your existence, surely that would have been because you used Childe a lot, right? There's nothing else you can think of that could be the cause. Unless, perhaps, the 'players' existence is a known fact throughout Teyvat? No, that couldn't be right. You've talked to NPC's and read hundreds of theories using lore found within the game. Not once did it ever mention a higher being above the Descenders, nor the Phane for that matter.

You hit the pause button in Genshin, huffing an angered sigh as you pushed your chair out aggressively. You'll have to try again later, that's the only thing you can do right now. Considering the Harbinger's have no idea what resources exist in this world, you're pretty sure it will take them awhile to figure out how to get back to Teyvat.

'Awhile' may sound like a long time, but you know Dottore will somehow cut that word by 3/4. Anyway, you'll have to save asking about a possible way to create a portal another time. Right now, what's more important is grasping a connection of understanding.

Well, you better start sorting out another problem that will soon come. The problem which Pulcinella actually pointed out, too.

Food.

And you know what you need to get more? Money.

If only Pantalone were useful in this world, then, he would be able to pay for all the expenses you'll need these next few weeks. You know, now that you're actually thinking about it, he's probably the most useless Harbinger here.

You sat up from your chair and left it pushed out, convincing yourself that this plan wasn't completely over. In truth, it wasn't. There was nothing wrong in trying again, was there? Sure, this session might have failed. But who's to say it won't work the next time? Or maybe the time after that?

...Right?

You left the room after eyeing your computer screen once more, scowling at the Genshin merch on your desk. That reminds you, you need to burn all the Harbinger merch the second you can. Maybe all your merch in fact. Okay that's a lie, although this instance has definitely scarred you for life, it won't stop you from keeping a few non-Fatui items.

Unfortunately, if you'd just looked at your desk one more time, you would have noticed Paimon waving frantically at you with a face of panic, shouting through the screen trying to get her voice to be heard on the other side.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Okay, group time. We need to discuss something." You called everyone to the living room, snatching the remote from Pantalone's hand and turning the TV off.

"Pardon me, it was my turn to watch the television tonight." He excused himself aggressively, trying to swat the remote back into his hand.

"Not so funny when it's your turn, is it?" Dottore laughed at him, pausing his writing to mock the banker.

"Are you aware of how long I had to wait until I could have a look at my channel? I only just received the remote!" He complained, glaring at Dottore through his closed eyes.

"Hmph. To me, it looks like you're sleeping laying on the sofa like that." Sandrone scoffed, her posture straight.

"Alright, Alright," You quietened them. "Pantalone can get the remote back after I say what I need to."

After a short while of waiting, everyone except Pierro, Signora, Capitano and Childe had arrived in the living room to listen to what you had to say.

"Where are the other four? Why is there always someone missing when I need to say something important." You asked the Harbingers, sighing in frustration.

"Heh, Childe is out of commission at the moment." Scaramouche snickered to himself, eyes closed imagining the pain he's going through.

"That's not a 'where', it's a 'what'." You deadpanned.

"He's in the landing with Capitano. I brought him there since these two were taking over the sofa." Arlecchino answered.

"And... Signora and Pierro?"

"Signora's in the guest bedroom, fretting about her nails growing in a different direction that how'd she'd like them to. Pierro's still in the office signing paperwork that clearly isn't helpful to our situation at this moment in time."

"Thank you, at least someone's helpful." You nodded to her, Arlecchino nodding back in an understanding as she leant against the wall with her arms crossed.

"We need to talk about food. As Pulcinella reminded me earlier today, if we don't get more food we'll run out in about 3 days."

"Does that even matter?" Scaramouche interrupted you. "The majority of us don't even need to eat, you're just wasting your resources by feeding us. Besides, who would want to eat your aw--"

"What he means to say is," Pulcinella coughed to interrupt the puppet. "Yes, this is indeed a tough predicament. How are we to get the resources we need?"

"Well, we'll have to go to the shop and buy some. But to buy, we need money."

"Money? I have plenty of that." Pantalone questions with a bored tone, his head leaning into one of his hands.

"Stop forgetting what I told you earlier, you damned diva. Your money is useless here. If we want to get money, we'll have to work." You hushed him quickly.

"Work. Yes, of course." Arlecchino thought out loud. "But how do we work when we know nothing about this world?"

"Ugh, it's not that different to Teyvat! So, who's feeling like working?"

Nobody replied, everyone looking at eachother urging them to say yes instead of them.

"...Right, well, let's eliminate the people who can't work. Signora can't, as it would be way too risky. If the police somehow recovered the damaged footage and released it to the public, I'd be dead meat she'd blow her cover immediately," You started.

"Pulcinella and Pierro also can't, as they look way too old to be working. They'd be considered retirement age from looks alone. On the same topic, Columbina and Sandrone might have to stay behind too because of how child-like they look. Columbina might be able to get away with it, but it would still turn some heads in my opinion."

"Hah! It seems you're worth some praise." Sandrone commended you, letting out a hearty laugh in satisfaction. "However, this does cause some problems on my end of the bargain."

"And what problems would that be?"

"Why, exploring your world's machinery, of course! Becoming an engineer would be the perfect way to learn more about your world."

"Yes." You gave her a dead look. "And tell me, you're planning to become a professional's apprentice to learn? Something tells me your pride wouldn't let that happen."

"It can't be that difficult." She scoffed to herself, voice quiet and eyes narrow.

"I wanted to see more of this world..." Columbina sighed sadly, interjecting Sandrone. "Oh well, I suppose I can do that by asking you questions instead~"

"Right..." You sweated nervously.

"I have no objections." Pulcinella nodded with his eyes closed, being in agreeance. "We can discuss Sandrone's means to learn later, as I believe it would be an excellent idea."

You sighed once more, not bothering to argue more, and continued your rambling.

"Capitano is also a no in terms of getting a job. That helmet really stands out, and considering he can't and wouldn't want to take it off, I guess he's not going outside ever. Anyway, so, uh... We'll discuss who wants to have what job and when they'd like to start tomorrow. I'm going upstairs to tell Signora what's happening. Arlecchino, Pulcinella, could you both respectively tell Childe and Capitano, as well as Pierro this information?" You told them, head looking back over your shoulder before turning straight to walk up the stairs.

"Of course." They both replied, leaving to do their own thing.

As you were walking up the stairs, you could hear Pantalone and Dottore arguing for the remote. Funnily enough, it was Columbina's abnormal dry tone that caused the two to stop fighting and find something to watch together. Huh, you wished you could do that.

You knocked on the guest bedroom door, hearing Signora scoff and call out to the person on the other side telling them to enter. You walked into the bedroom silently, sitting on the bed waiting for her to talk to you.

She was sitting on the chair in front of the mirror, fiddling with a nail file whilst muttering about the state of her fingers. Beside her fumbling form was some nail varnish. Hold on a minute, aren't those your mothers?

"Signora, you wouldn't have happened to find the nail kit in front of you in my parent's bedroom, would you?" You asked her, feeling your annoyance begin to grow.

"Hm? Maybe I did. What's it to you?" She glared in the mirror, eyeing you without turning around.

"What's it to me??? Did you seriously just ask me that? You're using a dead woman's nail file and nail varnish!" You argued.

"Well, yes." She shrugged, a wicked grin growing on her face. "I'll have to make do with what I can get. If it weren't for the surprisingly beautiful colour and necessity of my manicure, I would have put the thought out of my head immediately."

"But those are just excuses! Look, if you really wanted a fucking manicure, you could have just asked for my stuff in my room."

"And how, for Teyvat's sake, was I supposed to know you had supplies in your room?" She eyed you strangely.

Well, she has a point. A dumb point, but one you'll accept as long as she stops using your mother's marriage anniversary nail kit.

"Just...! Just pass the nail kit to me and I'll give you my manicure bag. Stay here, and stay out of my parent's room." You warned her, snatching the nail file and nail varnish with haste.

You speedwalked to your bedroom, dumping the items on your desk with the thought to put those in your bedside drawer later. Stopping for a moment to look at your monitor still showcasing Genshin, you sighed and continued pacing the room to find your manicure bag. When finding the bag, you quickly swiped it off of the shelf and returned to the guest bedroom.

"Right." You started, dumping the bag and opening the zip to let her see what was inside the bag.

"Is this alright for you, your majesty?" You mocked her, unable to stop yourself from speaking. "You'll have everything you could possibly need for your nails in here. From different colours, to charms, to glitter. Capiche?"

"Hmm..." She fiddled with the bag, having a look at the colours you've given her. "Since you're here already, why don't you make yourself useful and do my nails for me? Do whatever you wish with them in terms of colour and point, I'd like to see how nails in this world differ from Teyvat." She ordered you with a wave of her hand, one leg over the other.

Is she actually joking?

"Are you kidding me? I'm not doing your nails for you!" You exclaimed, outraged at the suggestion itself.

"Oh, please. Don't act as if the suggestion is atrocious. Aren't you the one who often mentions our wrongdoings when we're minding our own business? Who's to say we can't do the same?"

"A normal person." You grumbled under your breath with squinted eyes. "Murder and stealing are two very different things."

"I hope you're as good as talking as you are making excuses." She rolled her eyes, laying her hands out in front of her. "Not only that, but doing nails. If I don't like them, you'll have hell to pay."

Well, looks like you don't have a choice in terms of doing her nails for her. What a prissy bitch.

"Fine." You scoffed at her, dragging a spare chair in the corner of the room to sit down.

You looked through the bag of colours you had, deciding to do a red and black gradient whilst leaving her nails relatively long and sharp. Perhaps you could add little light blue dots to the black gradient to highlight her eyes? Yes, that sounds like a good idea.

"Those are the colours you're choosing?" She raised on eyebrow with an uninterested frown.

"I'm sorry, your highness, were you expecting a pretty baby pink?"

"Continue." She rolled her eyes.

Filing and washing her nails to the perfect size, you began to paint the nails delicately. As you were working, you noticed Signora begin to soften her features, a small almost non-existent smile on her face with satisfaction in watching you work.

"Do you do nails often?" She asked you with a gentler tone, tilting her head to get a better look at you painting her smallest nail.

"Not really." You denied, shaking your head. "I only have this many colours because my mother liked to gift me stuff like this."

"Ah..." She made a noise of understanding. "So that's why the majority of your colours are still sealed."

"Yeah. I never used them because I saw no need to, occasionally I'd help my mother do hers if she went out to party with the neighbours. Also most of my Pinterest references use a specific set of colours."

"...Pinterest?"

"It's a type of catalogue." You tried your best to explain, fanning the nails hoping they would dry quickly.

"You can save pictures that other people post and use them for references. I like to use it for clothes and nail inspiration for my mother."

"That sounds... exquisite." Signora noted with wide eyes. "You mean to tell me different people from all over can post these pictures? And others seeing the pictures can use them as they wish?"

"Yup. Although, you saying that out loud makes me think you're thinking of something illegal." You deadpanned.

"I'm not!" She accidentally recoiled, slowly putting her hands back out when realising. "It just seems like a power not worthy on humans. Surely you would use such a powerful idea for messages instead of just pictures?"

"You're literally just describing a forum."

"Hm?"

"Nevermind!" You stated, grabbing the blue and adding dots to the black. Instead of ending it there as planned, you decided to add glitter and put a couple specks onto each dot. You looked back at the nails from a distance, finding satisfaction in your work.

"What do you think? If you don't like them, I don't care. To be fair, this is the first time I've done nails in awhile."

"I suppose they're... alright." Her cheeks turned slightly pink, hesitating in how to answer. "They're much better than what I thought they'd be. Your world has such vibrant colours for varnish, usually I just stick to black."

"I noticed." You put all your materials away, attempting to zip up the bag.

Before you could zip up the bag completely, Signora stopped your hand by placing hers over your own.

"Hey, don't move your hands so much! I just finished your nails!"

"Ahem. I believe we had a deal? You do my nails, and I'll do yours? Although I would rather spend my time doing something else, I am not one to back out of an agreement such as this."

Somehow, despite the day not going to plan, you don't hate how it ended. In fact, you feel as if you've grown a little closer to Signora today.

"Oh, and whilst I'm at it," She paused. "I better have a look at what clothes you have in your wardrobe. From what I see now, I don't think I'll like what I'll see in there."

You take back what you said earlier.

Has anyone noticed I like the word 'prissy' a bit too much?

Anyway, Insatiable Madness is going to have longer Views from now on 🥳

I like this part a lot, it's definitely one of my favourite Views I've written so far!

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

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[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

5 times you and Miguel walked away from each other and 1 time you didn't

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader notes: brother'sbestfriend!Miguel, soccerplayer!Miguel, college au, slow burn, somewhat mutual pining but written from reader's perspective more exclusively, SFW - only slightly suggestive (worst thing is probably a boner), fem reader (pretty neutral though), saying soccer instead of football felt so dirty but oh well, thank you for reading!! word count: 5.9k

You’re having your first lazy day in forever. It’s the first day in recent memory that you didn’t have something to do or somewhere to be. You’re just going to hang out in your apartment and watch your favorite shows or read for fun for once or whatever else you feel like doing. Because you don’t have to go anywhere, you don’t even take a shower, opting to stay in your comfy pajamas, not bothering with any makeup or hair effort, as you lounge around. 

You have the place to yourself now, but you share it with your twin brother Alex, the two of you lucky enough to go to the same university. 

When you eventually hear his keys scratching at the door, you’re sprawled on the couch reading a novel you’d left half-finished for ages despite actually really enjoying it. School really had a way of making you not read. Or at least never full books. 

As Alex opens the door, you’re surprised to hear him talking to someone else. You see his unexpected guest a moment later from your spot on the couch, your college apartment rather small after all. And you’re mortified. Miguel. Alex’s best friend, university soccer team superstar, ridiculously attractive Miguel. 

God, why did Alex not warn you he was bringing someone over? All it took was a quick message, for fuck’s sake. And Miguel of all people? Ugh. Well, it wasn’t like you could tell him. “Hey, brother dear, I have a huge crush on your best friend, so can I please get a warning next time he’ll be around? You know, especially so I’m not looking like a total mess when he shows up?”

He’d been coming over a lot recently actually. He and Alex were both on the soccer team and happened to share a few classes too, so their schedules really lined up. Usually, it was nice to get to see him. It’s not like either of them paid that much attention to you when they were hanging out, but Miguel was nice to look at. Even now, they seemed like they were coming back from a casual soccer match or something, and he still looked amazing. His thick, dark hair was messy in the way that made you want to run your hands through it; his t-shirt hugged his unreasonably broad chest and shoulders perfectly, and his sweatpants — fuck, his sweatpants — his ass looked miraculous as he turned to put his gym bag down.

Miguel’s looking at you as he and Alex step into the living room. “It’s Saturday, Y/N, and the weather’s finally fucking nice. Why’re you reading a book? You’re such a nerd,” Alex snaps as he plops onto the couch next you, pushing your legs off to make room. 

“I’m a nerd because I’m reading a book? Am I am tomboy because I’m not wearing a dress, too, or are we keeping it to one stupid superficial stereotype?” 

Miguel chuckles as he sits on Alex’s other side. “Cut him some slack, Y/N, he took a soccer ball to the head today. Might be making him even more of an idiot than usual.” 

You can’t help but worry; you love the idiot after all. 

“You okay? Was it bad?” you’re asking as you run your hand over his head looking for bumps. “I’m fine, mom,” he mocks, pushing you away. “And you? You asshole,” he accuses Miguel playfully. “‘Took a ball to the head’?” he repeats, then turning to you adds, “It was him that kicked it!” Miguel starts laughing.

“It was the perfect setup, man. Not my fault you were distracted.” “Whatever,” Alex says as he reaches for the video game remotes. Knowing them, it was time for FIFA.

You’re eager to hide with how you look right now anyway, so you get up to head into your room. “We didn’t mean to kick you out,” Miguel starts kindly. “ You don’t have to go; you were clearly comfortable here.” “Clearly comfortable”? God that sounded bad in your head. He was “super hot”; you were “clearly comfortable.”

“Thanks, Miguel. It’s fine. I was going to —“ but you don’t finish your excuse as you trip on the remote’s charging wire as you step across, falling unceremoniously to your face right in front of them. 

“Mierda!” Miguel yells.

Alex immediately asks, “You okay?,” but it’s Miguel who’s up and over you in the same instant.

“You alright?” he asks softly as his hands grab your hips to help you up. 

His hands on you were the last thing you needed right now. So much for composure. “Fine. Really,” you say, your breath shaky. You’re kneeling on your living room floor; Miguel’s squatting in front of you, close; his hands haven’t left your body even though you’re no longer prone. He just watches you closely, eyes beautiful and concerned. You stare back into them, and after a couple more shaky breaths finally manage to stand up and step away, looking anywhere but at him. “‘M fine,” you repeat. You turn away hurriedly and go the few steps to your room. Once safely behind closed doors, your face scrunches and your stomach sinks at the sheer embarrassment. 

~

It’s been days since Miguel was at your apartment, and part of you is happy for the lack of pressure but another part of you still gets a funky feeling in her gut at the idea that the last memory of you he had was of a clumsy mess. He and Alex have a game today, and pretending to convince yourself that you just felt like it today, you make yourself up more than usual for it. You’re actually pretty happy with your look as you head out to meet some friends at the match. 

They win. Miguel scores. Twice. Alex’s defense is probably the main reason for their clean sheet. 

So, hyped up on adrenaline and victory, they’re laughing and messing around with their teammates as a bunch of people approach the sidelines to congratulate them. Alex spots you and makes a goofy face, always so playful when he’s happy. He jogs over to you and gives you a huge hug.

“Stop, you’re so sweaty!” you squeal. He just holds you tighter and rubs his sweaty hair on you, laughing. When he finally pulls away, Miguel is standing right next to him, smiling at the two of you. “Do I get a hug too?” he teases. “I scored two more goals than he did!” 

You’re not sure if he’s kidding, and you’re sure the chuckle you give in response is somewhat tense.

But, stepping toward him, you just say, “Congratulations,” and wrap your arms around his shoulders without getting too close. Damn, they were like boulders. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist and closes the distance you’d maintained, giving you a surprisingly intimate embrace. You’re struck by the feeling of him around you. He’s sweaty, too, and you can smell his musk, but instead of off-putting, you find it incredibly arousing. You can feel the rise and fall of his breathing where your chest is flush with his. He’s so warm, and you just want to breathe him in and trace every ridge of his body. But the hug is already lingering too long to be normal, and you pull back a bit awkwardly. Miguel is still looking at you, a subtle smile on his face. 

He seems about to say something when a high pitched squeal right next to you startles you. 

“Miguel!” a very pretty girl yells at him as she approaches, unabashedly jumping onto his back. She’s in a cheer uniform. “Oh my god, you were so good!” Miguel’s so sturdy, her jumping on him didn’t throw him off physically, but his face looks a little flustered. “Uh, thanks,” he says politely, putting her down. She just giggles and grabs his arm as she compliments him again. 

You feel so awkward watching this, so you just turn around and walk away. You don’t see Miguel looking after you.

~

You’re at the after party with a couple of your friends. The soccer team was quite popular, and the victory parties tended to be good. You’re mostly having fun, but you can’t help but keep looking over to where Miguel is. Man of the match and man with that face, he was obviously the center of attention. People were coming up to congratulate him left and right. He handled it all so graciously. It shocked you how there was no arrogance in his demeanor; he was just the easygoing life of the party. 

You wanted to go talk to him too, but you’d already congratulated him and didn’t know what else you would say. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself again. You could go talk to your brother, who was right next to him, but he was busy flirting, and you didn’t want to ruin it for him. 

A bunch of people are dancing in the open space between you and Miguel, and the chaos lets you sneak long looks at him without his noticing. But when your friend leans over and asks, “Who do you keep looking at?,” you realize you have to be less obvious. “No one, just curious who Alex is flirting with,” you lie, proud of how quick you were with it. 

“You a jealous, protective sister type?” she laughs. 

“No, just curious.” “Is he?” “What?” “Protective?”

“Um, sometimes, depends. Why?”

“Because that guy over there keeps checking you out.” She nods toward an okay-looking guy chatting with someone on the edge of the dance floor. A second later, he was indeed looking over at you. “You should go talk to him!” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so interested.” “Why not? He’s hot! I’m pretty sure he’s on the team too. You don’t have to marry him, Y/N, just go dance! You’ve been weirdly tense all night.”

You look over again, and your eyes meet. Before you can do anything else, he makes the decision for you, walking over to you.

“Hey.” “Um, hi.” You exchange names and pleasantries, and he asks you if you want to dance. Without thinking about it, you glance toward the person you really wish you were dancing with. To your surprise, Miguel is already looking toward you. He looks less happy than before. You look back at this guy quickly, hoping neither of them noticed. 

You feel slightly bad thinking this, using this guy you weren’t super interested in, but you couldn’t help but feel it’d be nice if Miguel saw a side of you that might make him think of you differently, not just as Alex’s sister. It’s just a dance anyway, so, you accept the offer and head to the dance floor. 

You fall into a rhythm with the music, with the guy. The dancing is fun; the guy is fine. Your back is to Miguel, and you can’t resist spinning to catch another glimpse, doing it seamlessly as you keep dancing. Your breath catches when your eyes meet his. 

Miguel watching you from across the room is doing much more to turn you on than anything your current dance partner is doing, but you channel your new energy into your movements. It’s not a well thought out decision, though in the back of your mind you know who it’s for, but you start moving a bit more suggestively. You let your hips follow the music, let your hands come up to your hair as your body rolls rhythmically. Feeling especially bold, you even manage to meander closer to where Miguel is, giving him a better view. 

Unbeknownst to you, this unfortunately also makes Alex, now unoccupied, notice you for the first time. You don’t hear him leaning over to Miguel and saying, “Gross. I hate seeing my sister with random guys. Let’s go get more drinks.” He drags him away, and Miguel, unable to come up with a good reason not to follow, does. 

The next time you spin, all you catch is the backs of their heads.

~

The following week, you’re coming home from classes, and all you can think about is eating. You’d had to skip lunch to finish an assignment and couldn’t wait for dinner. 

When you enter your apartment, you find Miguel sitting on your couch. 

“Hey,” he greets. “Hi.” He’s sitting on the edge of the sofa closest to you, and he adorably shifts over to make room, as if you couldn’t just go around. You weren’t planning on sitting anyway, but now that he’s wordlessly extended an invitation, you do. “Where’s Alex?”

“Went to take a shower. We’re gonna play a couple games when he’s done.” He gestures toward the video game console. “Are the remotes charged?” you joke. “I hear it’s a hazard to have the wires across the living room floor.” Miguel chuckles lightly at your self-deprecating humor. He’s turned toward you, sitting in the middle of the couch, his elbow on the backrest as he occasionally messes with his luscious hair. “I felt so bad that day. Taking over your space and tripping you. When you looked so peaceful when we got here.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you laugh, amused but also masking your stirring feelings at the fact that he had thought about it at all. “I was just a mess that day. And I wouldn’t call my pyjamas peaceful, just comfortable. In my defense, though, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I liked your pyjamas,” he teases, and you roll your eyes. “What? I did! I’m all for comfy clothing; have you not noticed 90% of my wardrobe is gym clothes?”

“Yes, well, you can get away with it. You’re a guy, and you look like that,” you say, gesturing at his body before you really realize what you’re saying. You tense as soon as you do. It just slipped out, the conversation getting weirdly easy and comfortable with him. “Like what?” he asks, but he’s smirking, knowing what you meant. You just roll your eyes again. “No, c’mon, chula, like what?” He lifts his eyebrows in challenge, mirth in his eyes. You’re too busy reeling from the pet name to have mental energy to come up with a retort. You’re grateful for what would’ve otherwise been embarrassing: your stomach grumbling. Miguel looks at your stomach and giggles. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you say, taking the escape route and walking to the adjoining kitchen. He follows. “You can get away with it too, you know,” he says nonchalantly. You think you know what he means but look back at him questioningly. “The clothes. You always look good.” 

You’re glad you’re not facing him, your expression probably revealing your excitement. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” He leans on your counter. “So what are you having?” “I don’t know, whatever we have. Haven’t had time to go to the store.” You’re rummaging through your cabinets. “I can make you something,” he offers. You stop and look at him. “What? I’m a great cook,” he shrugs defensively. “Have you never had my tamales?”

“It’s not about you being good or not,” you giggle. “There’s no reason you should have to cook when you’re just here to hang out.” 

He just shrugs again, but there’s a tinge of shyness in his typically confident facade. 

You turn to open your fridge, and he comes up right next to you. “Oh shit, you guys have jarritos. Can I steal one?”

“Yeah, of course,” you laugh. “Grab whatever you want.”

You didn’t think he would immediately… As you bend over to grab something from the drawers, Miguel reaches up to grab the soda, leaning forward. Both of you moving simultaneously, your ass presses firmly against his crotch. You both freeze in panic, prolonging the position, before you jump up at the accidental contact. His and your “sorry”’s and “I didn’t mean to”’s get jumbled together in the colossally awkward moment. Miguel looks down, then back up again looking startled. He scurries around to the other side of the counter, it now separating you. “Jesus, Miguel, I didn’t do it on purpose! You don’t have to put a barricade between us; it’s not like I’m gonna jump you!” “No, no, it’s not that! Fuck, it’s, uh, fuck…” He looks lost for words. His hand comes to his face, covering it in resigned embarrassment. His voice is a mumble through his obstructing hand, “I’ve a bd’ve uh sitch-ation.”

“What?” He uncovers his face with an exasperated sigh. “I have… a bit of a… situation,” he whispers, looking down.

“Oh… oh!” you say, realization hitting you. Probably largely because of the awkward tension, at least partially at the idea of you giving Miguel O’Hara a boner, you start cracking up. He just stares at you, deadpan, his hands coming to his hips. “It’s not funny.” “It’s a little funny.” His glare cracks the tiniest bit. 

“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny. But it’s your fault!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Alex asks nonchalantly, coming out of his room, lazily drying his hair.

“Nothing!” you and Miguel say simultaneously.

“Okay… should I just pretend that wasn’t really suspicious?” 

“Yes,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, really. Just me being clumsy again.”

His eyes are still skeptical, but Alex just chuckles and nods, letting it go at the look on your face. He heads to the couch with an easy “C’mon, man” at Miguel. Miguel follows, giving you a sideways glance and tense smile. When he sits, he immediately puts a cushion on his lap. You grab the first thing that looks edible in your fridge and head to your room. 

~

Two weekends later finds you at another soccer team party. They’d lost this time, 2-1. Miguel scored their sole goal, and the other team’s second had been a sketchy penalty. If the victory parties were good, the defeat ones were wild. Most of the players, Miguel and Alex among them, were drowning their sorrows, especially after such a disheartening defeat.

You weren’t a player, but you had your own sorrows to drown, and you weren’t stopping yourself from doing just that. You’d hardly seen Miguel in almost two weeks, and the few times you had, he’d been cold, keeping interactions mainly to greetings and goodbyes. You didn’t know if you’d done something wrong, if he was still caught up with your little awkward encounter, or if you were just making it up, your feelings for him needing some outlet. Making up stories by constantly obsessing about him was as good as outlet as you could get sometimes. Alcohol was a better one now. 

A while into the party, you’re at the bar for your… you lost count… numberth tequila shot. You down it, lick the salt off your hand, and stick the lime in your mouth, cringing. 

Your eyes are still closed when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You open them and see Miguel standing beside you. “Maybe switch to water, huh, guapa?” he tells you.

“Why? M’fine,” you slur. 

“Maybe, but you won’t be if you keep this pace up.” “And how would you know?” 

“Just noticed,” he shrugs. 

You squint your eyes accusingly at him. You didn’t know what you’d feel next time you talked to him, but you hadn’t expected to feel this angry. 

“You notice me enough to watch how much I drink but not to say more than two words at a time to me for weeks?” He looks surprised. “Y/N…” 

You cross your arms and lift your eyebrows in an implied “what?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you just walk past him. You end up walking through the dance floor, and though it wasn’t your plan, you kind of like moving to the music. You’re drunk enough to the lack the inhibitions to just dance alone. You’re enjoying yourself, not even bothering to look back and see if Miguel was still there. A bit later though, you startle as you feel a hand on your ass. You turn and find a random guy you’ve never met before, smiling at you disgustingly drunkenly. You’re taken aback, your mind already a bit slow from the alcohol, so you haven’t decided yet how to tell him to fuck off by the time Miguel is in front of you shoving him away. He’s not overly aggressive but, even drunk, easily moves the guy away from you with an angry “What the hell, man?” 

The other guy looks seriously scared and just lifts his hands with a pathetic “sorry, Miguel.” 

“Fucking better be, what the hell is wrong with you?” The other guy stumbles away. Miguel turns towards you, and his expression melts from frightening anger to warm concern in two seconds. “You okay?” he asks, his hands carefully grazing your shoulders. You nod and lean into him. At your seeming comfortable, he lets his arms come around you. 

“Thanks,” you whisper in his ear.

“Of course,” he whispers in yours, and it sends a shiver down your entire body. You stare into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest. 

“Miguel?” 

“Yeah?”

“Wanna dance with me?” 

They don’t call it “liquid courage” for nothing. 

Miguel considers you for a moment, but a soft smirk is whispered across is sharp features. He nods slowly, and his hands move slightly further down your back. You close your eyes at the sensation of his hands running along your body. You run your hands up his chest slowly and wrap your arms around his neck. When you open your eyes, you see his crimson ones boring into you. 

You start moving a bit more as you focus on the music to relieve some of the tension you’re feeling. He follows your lead, and soon you’re dancing together much more easily. As a couple of songs go by, you’re both moving freely, staying close to each other the whole time.

You’re so exhilarated, and he seems as enveloped in you as you are in him, so the next time the beat calls for it, you let your body twist rhythmically in his grasp. Your back is now flush with his chest, your ass on his crotch, your hand reaching behind you on his neck, in his hair. His hands are firm on your hips, and when you roll them against him, you hear his whispered “Fuck, mami” in your ear and feel his arm come around your middle, pulling you into him. His hips move in rhythm with yours. You’ve probably never been so turned on in your entire life. You keep this up for a delicious while. You can feel Miguel is hard through his jeans, but he makes no sign of being embarrassed, just continuing to dance with you with expert hip movements that make your imagination go wild. Of course he’d be an amazing dancer. Of course you’d imagine what else his hips could do. 

You twist back in his embrace, coming to face him. He holds you close, and you bring a hand to his face. He leans into your touch. You move your face up slightly, and he seems to be following, moving his down. You’re so close, even think you feel your lips graze his, when someone bumps up against you, making you stumble. 

Miguel’s strong arms catch you, but the moment is gone, and a second later, he looks startled.

“You okay?” he asks, stepping back a bit, speaking loudly to keep his distance. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure, but he seems off. 

“Let’s get some air, huh?” 

You follow him outside, the sudden change in ambience making your head spin a little. You lean against the wall, and he puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“Sure you’re okay?” You nod but don’t say anything, maybe a bit drunker than you thought, trying to ground yourself. He leans on the wall next to you. His body is warm where it grazes your side. You can feel his gaze intermittently on you. You get a little dizzy again, and you lean onto his shoulder. He just lets you, and you stand like that for a while. 

His fingers graze the back of your hand.

“Want me to take you home?”

You nod into his body. He wraps a firm arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the party. 

You’re home before you know it, the whole journey a blur dominated by his warmth by your side. When you reach your front door, you lean on it and look up at him. His subtle smile elicits your full one. “Thanks,” you whisper. “’S no problem,” he shrugs. “You’ll be okay?” “Yeah,” you nod. You’re already sobering up. “You?”

He chuckles and nods. 

“I wasn’t the one downing tequila shots like water,” he teases. Your cheeks warm, and you look down as you chuckle. 

“Wasn’t that many…” 

He laughs.

“It was, cariño.” Again with the pet names. 

“I’m still surprised you noticed.” “I always notice you,” he responds without missing a beat. Your eyes snap up to his, and you see the longing there. 

You stare at each other for a heavy moment, then, drunk more on the sensations of your earlier almost-kiss than on alcohol, chasing that feeling, you lean up to try again. Your lips are a breath away from his when he looks down, effectively rejecting your advance. You pull away, mortified. 

“Sorry, I… sorry,” you stutter as you scramble for your keys. You turn to your door. “Y/N,” he whispers, his hand holding your wrist softly. “It’s okay,” you say, looking back him, wiping tears from your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything; sorry I misunderstood.” 

You quickly go inside and close the door. You lean on it, crying. Miguel, eyes closed, fists clenched, rests his forehead on the opposite side. 

~

Miguel doesn’t come around for a while. Even as days pass, you can’t stop thinking about your night together. Confusion, sadness, embarrassment — all mixing together into a terrible cocktail.

Another match day rolls around, and you can’t stomach the idea of watching Miguel play, of potentially having to talk to him after. You tell Alex you’re really sorry to not support him this time, but that you’re not feeling well. He worries over you a while, unhelpfully but adorably emptying your medicine cabinet onto the kitchen counter, looking through stuff, suggesting this and that, telling you to text him anything you needed that he could bring you after. 

A while later, you’ve just slumped down onto the couch, when your stomach sinks at the sight you’re met with. There, at the corner of the room, lie his cleats. He’d been cleaning them the night before and had clearly forgotten to put them back in his gym bag. 

“Fuck.” 

You lift yourself up, grab them, and head over to the stadium. 

When you get there, you pound at the locker room door, and it opens — of course, you couldn’t catch a fucking break — to Miguel O’Hara’s gorgeous face. Though he looks at you intently, you can’t quite read his expression. Then he yells over his shoulder, “Ale!” 

Alex jogs over and, upon seeing you, lets out the biggest sigh of relief. 

“Oh, thank God. I fucking love you.” He reaches for the cleats you’re holding up to him and gives you a  bear hug. “Saved my fucking life, Y/N/N. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead. “You don’t look as sick. You’ll be okay?” He’s clearly in a rush to get back but wants to make sure you’re alright. 

You nod and playfully shove his chest, pushing him back into the locker room. “You’re the best!” he yells over his shoulder as he saunters back. Miguel is still just standing there, all geared up for the match. It crosses your sick mind how good the uniform looks on him. 

“You’re sick?” he asks. 

“Nothing I won’t get over.” You offer him a weak smile. He’s nodding slowly, considering. 

“Stay for the match?”

“Miguel, I —“ “Please.” You’ve never heard him plead before. You’re head is nodding before your mind can catch up. He just nods too. “I’ll find you after.” And with that, he jogs back into the locker room. 

You’d never known ninety minutes could drag on for eternity, with a half-time’s worth of eternity in between. You’re sure you’re heartbeat was elevated the entire time, your mind and emotions reeling. What was Miguel going to say to you after the match? You had absolutely no read on him during your short interaction before. Then again, apparently you weren’t always great at reading him. 

Minute after minute trickles by. At the end of the second half, your team up a goal (yes, Miguel’s), the ref announces an unusually large number of minutes. You moan with everyone else, for your own reasons. What was a potential leveler compared to the leveling of your heart?

Slowly, the minutes pass. The other team builds a mounting attack; they get a good attempt; they miss. The whistle blows; the crowd cheers, and you, you’re frozen in place. 

You thaw yourself slowly as the players shake hands, go to their respective huddles. By the time they’re roaming the sidelines freely, you’ve only just managed to leave your seat. 

As you descend the bleachers stairs, you catch sight of Miguel. He’s obviously searching, halfheartedly ignoring the congratulations coming from all sides. His eyes eventually meet yours, and as soon as they do, he’s running over to you, meeting you much closer to the bleachers than the field. 

He comes to a stop right in front of you and just watches you. You just watch him. “Congratulations,” you say. He chuckles, lightly shaking his head.

“Thanks.” 

He takes a step closer to you. “Y/N…” “Yeah?” “I…” “Miguel!” you’re interrupted. “Congratulations! Way to pull it out!” “Thanks, yeah, thank you,” he says hurriedly, looking back over to you. “Listen, I just, I wanted to clear things up after how we left them.” You nod, worrying your bottom lip, your arms wrapping around you defensively.

“I didn’t want you to think that —“

“Congratulations, Miguel! Did it again, man!” And a slap on the back.

“Uh-huh, yeah, thank you,” Miguel responds, turning away, approaching rudeness. “For fuck’s sake,” he says, much more softly. “C’mere.” He grabs your arm and drags you around the bleachers, stopping when you have a semblance of cover. He’s looking around to make sure no one else is about to talk to him, and his worried looks right after he’s just won makes you laugh. The sound draws his attention fully back to you. He smiles at seeing you smiling. 

“Where can a guy get a little privacy, huh?” he jokes. “Probably not still by the field where he just scored the winning goal, I’m guessing,” you tease. He chuckles. Then he takes a deep, sobering breath. “Listen, Y/N…” 

His tone sounds apologetic, and it makes you immediately think the worst. He probably just didn’t want you to be embarrassed. Wanted to fix things so they wouldn’t be awkward if he hung around, which he’d obviously want to do given Alex was his best friend. 

Already fighting back tears, wanting to beat him to the punch to save face in whatever way you could at this point, you cut him off. “Miguel, you don’t have to explain anything or anything. I’m sorry I made more out of a good time than I should have. Please don’t let me keep you from hanging out with my brother even if I’m around, and I hope we can still be friends.” “What? No, that’s not… This isn’t about Alex. I mean, well it is a little bit.” He’s looking unsure. “Just keep things how they were before. It’s all fine.” “Is that what you want?” He looks serious. “What do you mean?” “Is that what you want? To keep things how they were before? To still be friends?”

“I… well… it’s what you want, isn’t it?” “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I tried to kiss you, and you pretty much said no to that. Twice.”

“I didn’t. Well, once, yeah I did, but it was only because I was worried you were too drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you. And, also, maybe a little bit because I panicked, okay?” He sounds more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard him yet. “I was worried it’d be weird with Alex or that I’d fuck it up with you, and I just, I don’t know, I panicked. And the other time wasn’t my fault. I was going to kiss you if you hadn’t stumbled.” “Someone bumped into me!” “I’m not blaming you! I just, it just, it made me remember you were drunk, and I didn’t want to be like that idiot guy I’d had to push away a while earlier.” “You’re nothing like that guy,” you say sternly. “I…” He’s started to look frustrated, unable to find the words. He runs his hand over his face, takes another deep breath. “What if you try now?” “What?” “I don’t know how to tell you. So maybe I can just show you. Try again, and no one will bump into you. I won’t panic, and I won’t think of all the things that could go wrong. I’ll think of how I’ve been feeling since that night. Absolutely fucking miserable. It’s been eating away at me; all I could think about was making it right with you, but I didn’t know how, didn’t know if I should. But I can’t take it anymore, and if you feel the same way, then, fuck, let’s just stop getting in our own way.” 

“Miguel…” “Yeah?” “That was pretty good for not knowing how to tell me.” Your face forms the slightest teasing smirk, your eyes lighting up at the realization of what he’s telling you. “Shut up and kiss me already,” he says, rolling his eyes, unable to help his bright smile, pulling your body to his and bringing his lips onto yours. 

You pull him into you, reciprocating eagerly. He moans into your mouth, and you feel his towering body sink onto yours. His arms are tight around you, one hand cupping your head, bringing you close. His kiss is fervent, desperate but concentrated. 

You run your hands in his hair, and he chuckles gruffly, the sound muffled by your chasing mouth. You lose yourself in his embrace. You grip him tightly, breaching into his mouth, wanting to kiss him as much as wanting to be kissed by him. You could feel the beginning of a beautiful push and pull as your mouths move together, your bodies mold into each other’s. 

You want to kiss him forever, but some loud cheering nearby startles you slightly apart. Miguel is looking deeply into your eyes. He kisses you again, lets his forehead rest on yours when he pulls back. You’re smiling when you say, “You should probably get back. I’m sure people are looking for you.” He groans dramatically and hides in the crook of your neck. He kisses it before saying, “I just want to be with you.” 

You giggle, nuzzling his face with yours, holding him close, your hand in his hair.

“Yeah, me too.” He hums into your neck. He plants another kiss there, and one on your cheek on his way up, as he lifts his head again. His rough hands caress your face tenderly. 

“This is good,” he says simply. You laugh and nod. “Fuck ‘em. I’ll go over there at some point. Let’s just stay here a little while longer.”

“Okay,” you smile. 

Miguel leans back into you, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you. 

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Ten

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Ten: Traveling to Okinawa

Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki prepare for their school trip, and it is, of course, chaotic.

            PK Academy was buzzing with excitement for the Okinawa trip. Yumehara and Teruhashi were especially excited because they wanted to spend time with Saiki. That meant they had to join his group. Of course, the obvious answer was to first ask (Y/N) to ask the boys (since they had already roped them into their group), but they were over with Saiki, and neither wanted to embarrass themselves in front of their crush. They tried to ask the other guys, but Teruhashi’s fan club became too exuberant in trying to get her to join them. So, now the girls (plus (Y/N)) were joining boy groups by a lottery system. Teruhashi, of course, was first up. She walked up to the box and rummaged around in it for a second.

            Yare yare. I feel bad that (Y/N) won’t be in my group, but I can’t have them and Yumehara there, too.

            “I choose this one!” declared Teruhashi.

            “Teruhashi’s group will join Takahashi’s group,” announced Hairo.

            “From here on, if you wanna talk to Teruhashi, talk to me first,” said Takahashi proudly as the other boys yelled in outrage.

            (Y/N) sighed. I wanted to be in Saiki’s group…

            Teruhashi and Yumehara felt the same way. They were very disappointed.

            “So Teruhashi’s group will join Takahashi’s, but what about the rest?” asked Hairo. “Shall we decide the rest via raffle as well?”

            The boys just mumbled about not caring. (Y/N) sweat-dropped. A girl from another group finally walked up and picked out another group.

            “Ugh, we got Nendou? Being in Nendou’s group is like, totes the worst!” she spat while her group nodded. “Like, can we pick again? This, like, totes kills the trip for us.”

            “Then our group will switch with theirs!” volunteered Teruhashi angelically.

            “T-Teruhashi?!” stammered Takahashi’s group.

            (Y/N) brightened. They knew Saiki wouldn’t enjoy having Teruhashi and Yumehara with him, but they really wanted to be in his group. They were friends with him and the others in the group, after all.

            “That is, if Nendou and the other two are okay with it,” continued Teruhashi.

            Everyone was amazed at the perfect pretty girl wanting to be in Nendou’s group. However, it didn’t last long as they all thought about how kind and selfless she was for doing it. It made her more perfect to them. The class began to cheer for their goddess.

            Yare yare. The only good thing about this is (Y/N) being in my group. Other than that…I’m just stuck with two more bothers.

            The class seemed to be satisfied with the rest of the results. Then, Hairo got called over by the teacher. When he returned to the room, his face was slightly crestfallen (as much as Hairo could be).

            “Which of you are in Mera’s group?” asked Hairo.

            “Oh, we are,” said (Y/N), raising their hand.

            “It looks like she can no longer go on the trip with us,” said Hairo.

            “Aw, why?” asked (Y/N).

            “Apparently, they couldn’t catch as many bluefin tuna as they wanted,” explained the class rep. “It’s unfortunate, but we can’t do anything about it. So it’s been decided that we’ll do groups of eight instead of groups of seven. Two of the members of Teruhashi’s group have to join another.”

            Instantly, Teruhashi and Yumehara glanced at (Y/N), who was humming pleasantly. They were better friends with the boys, so they were the obvious choice to stay in the group. Other people were also pulling them away.

            Looks like God is on my side.

l

            Saiki sighed in annoyance as he listened to Makoto prattle on and on about the “perverted” things Saiki was “thinking” and how he would be there to stop Saiki from doing anything. It was really quite disturbing how detailed Makoto was getting. Saiki was prepared to just not go, but…he could hear Mera and (Y/N) passing by. Mera was sad about not being able to go, and (Y/N) was disappointed their friend couldn’t come.

            That did it.

            Alright, Teruhashi. You win.

l

            “What shall we do, teacher?” asked Hairo.

            (Y/N) had been bouncing up and down in excitement at the trip, but they were starting to get nervous since it might be canceled now.

            “This isn’t good…” said the teacher.

            Suddenly, the PA system announced, “Due to a typhoon, the flight to Okinawa scheduled for ten o’clock has been temporarily suspended at this time.”

            (Y/N) sighed and slumped in their seat. “What bad luck…”

            “When I was finally able to go,” mourned Mera.

            Saiki sighed as the depressed thoughts of his friends bothers flooded him.

            “Excuse me, if the flight gets canceled, will the school trip be postponed?” asked a student.

            “No, it’ll be canceled,” said Matsusaki.

            “What?!” cried everyone.

            “I want you to go…but it’s out of my hands,” said Matsusaki sadly.

            “Teacher!” cried the students.

            “Don’t give up, guys!” shouted Hairo, clearly trying to delude himself. “It’s not like the flight has been canceled! One, two, sun! Don’t give up! Come on, guys! Cheer with me!”

            (Y/N) just sighed gloomily.

            Yare yare, even their endless sunniness is dampened. I can’t keep watching this. He couldn’t have (Y/N) upset. He liked them happy. Saiki teleported away for a moment before returning, soaking wet.

            “Hey! The flights back on!” chirped (Y/N) happily. “The news says the typhoon suddenly disappeared!” They grinned and then cocked their head. “Saiki? Why are you wet?”

            “Never mind it.” He smiled a tiny bit. “Now, let’s take that school trip.”

            “Yeah!” cheered (Y/N).

            Finally, PK Academy boarded the plane and was off to Okinawa. (Y/N) took out headphones and leaned back in their seat. While Yumehara, Teruhashi, and Mera were talking, they decided to take a nice long nap. They wanted as much energy as possible when they arrived in Okinawa.

l

            “The ocean looks so beautiful!” said (Y/N), looking out the bus window.

            “It’s so green!” said Nendou. “I wonder if someone’s dumpin’ some paint out there. Right, pal, pinky?”

            (Y/N) just grinned and shook their head.

            “Hey, (Y/N)!” called Yumehara. “Look!” She opened her shirt, revealing a bikini top.

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and they looked away. “Yumehara!”

            “Don’t take your clothes of here!” Teruhashi blushed.

            “It’s just a bathing suit,” explained Yumehara.

            “That makes more sense,” said (Y/N). “Stripping on the bus doesn’t seem your thing. I’m guessing you’re excited about the beach?”

            “Totally!” said Yumehara.

            “Me, too,” said Teruhashi.

            (Y/N) smiled. “I can’t wait to go. I bought a new swimsuit for the occasion.”

            “Oh, are you not wearing a guy’s swimsuit this time?” asked Yumehara.

            “No, I went for a two-piece,” said (Y/N). “I thought I’d have fun.”

            “I got a bikini, too,” remarked Teruhashi.

            “We’ll be like a fashion show!” commented (Y/N), beaming as the bus stopped.

            “Ooh, finally, we’re getting food!” Mera was drooling at the thought.

            She quickly pulled everyone into the building the teachers were escorting them into. They were all sat down in groups around tables and given food.

            “So, this is Okinawa soba, huh? It doesn’t look like soba at all,” said Nendou.

            “Well, one difference is that they don’t use buckwheat flour, so—,” said Yumehara.

            “Whatever it is, it looks good! Let’s chow down!” Nendou began eating.

            “Kuwachii sabira,” said Kaidou in the Okinawan dialect.

            Everyone stared blankly at him.

            “Yep! Maasan! This is ippee maasan,” said Kaidou as he ate.

            “Sure! Maasan!” chirped (Y/N).

            “Don’t start,” said Saiki, giving them a look.

            They laughed sheepishly while Kaidou continued attempting the Okinawan dialect.

            “He’s trying too hard.”

            “Th-Th-That’s amazing, Kaidou,” said Teruhashi, struggling to get the lie out.

            “I can’t remember them at all,” said Yumehara.

            “That’s fine!” said Kaidou. “Even if you don’t get ushinaa guchi, nankura naisa!”

            “He was excited for that phrase,” observed (Y/N).

            Finally, after an excruciatingly incomprehensible narration of the meal by Kaidou, the group finished eating and left the restaurant.

            “We still have some time left. Do you wanna stop by the souvenir shop?” asked Mera.

            “Sure!” (Y/N) nodded. With that, the girls enjoyed the time until dinner with some light shopping.

l

            “Now this is what a school trip’s all about!” cheered three boys at the hot springs. “Peeping!”

            Yare yare. Hearing their thoughts makes me feel gross.

            “Actually, I came once before to check things out,” said one boy.

            “To Okinawa?!” cried Takahashi. “That’s commitment, Murata!”

            “The hotel switches the men’s and women’s baths each day. I have a good grasp of the other side, too,” said Murata.

            “Wow…I can’t even find words…” said the third boy, impressed.

            “But it’ll all be worth it…to get a peek at her!” declared Murata, clearly thinking of Teruhashi. “The best place to peek is under that light.”

            I’ll block their line of sight.

            “What is she’s already gotten out?” asked Takahashi.

            “They might not compare to Teruhashi, but Mera and (L/N) are pretty hot as well,” said the third.

            Saiki stopped his movements. Yare yare. I guess I’ll have to handle this differently.

            As the three used periscopes to try to look over the fence, Saiki twisted the tops around. The boys were met with the horrifying picture of a naked Nendou.

            I don’t understand what the big deal about naked bodies is— Saiki accidentally looked through the fence with his x-ray vision. He could see (Y/N) in the water with their back turned. It was more of them than he had ever seen. Oh, wow. He immediately looked away. He had not expected that reaction to them. Shaking his head, he dispelled the thoughts, but they continued to bob in his head. Yare yare. I’m going down to the beach to get away from all of this.

            If Saiki had known the situation would just get worse, perhaps he wouldn’t have lay down on that beach chair that night.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@futureittomainn

@boogiemansbitch

@dmitrytherat

@yuriisclumsy

@sixxze

@constellationguy

@k03ume

@sweatyinternettrash

@paastaboi

@unorthodox-gob

@girlswhopanic

@h-i-g-h-w-a-y-t-o-h-e-l-l-l

[cera-writes]

Hi! Saw your nightcrawler requests are open again.

Could you write a one shot of slightly chubby reader getting more and more annoyed because Kurt has picked up the habit of being more and more touchy, squeezing/gently poking them with his tail, hands etc and them being more self conscious about it thinking it was teasing and not caring how it made them feel, only for Kurt to be caught off guard and confused because no? He just thinks you feel really, really nice which is why he was taking every opportunity he could to feel you? He feels bad that he made you feel bad about yourself, but he makes it up to you (maybe in an nsfw scenario or sfw and they remain really close friends, whichever way works for you to write)

Beyond the Touches

A/N: here you go, anon! Hope this was okay <3 Pairing: Kurt Wagner x gn!reader Tags: fluff, TW: Implied Body Insecurity, Comfort, mutual pining

It started subtly. A brush of his tail against your arm as you reached for a mug, a playful poke to your side when you made a joke. At first, you brushed it off, laughing it away as Kurt's usual brand of playful teasing. But as the days turned into weeks, the touches became more frequent, more insistent.

A gentle squeeze on your lower belly as you walked past him, a lingering hand on the small of your back as you sat down. Each time, a prickle of heat rose under your skin, not from arousal, but from a creeping self-consciousness. Your stomach, usually a source of mild amusement, suddenly felt like a giant, wobbly target.

"Ugh, Kurt," you mumbled one evening, swatting away his hand as he tried to "adjust" your sweater. "What's gotten into you?"

He looked up, a playful glint in his eyes. "Just making sure you're comfortable, Schatz. You're so squishy!"

Squishy. The word hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. You forced a smile, but the heat in your cheeks burned hotter. "I'm plenty comfortable, thanks. Maybe a little too comfortable, actually."

He frowned, the playfulness fading. "What do you mean?"

"Just…" you sighed, unable to meet his gaze. "Maybe lay off the physical stuff for a while, okay?"

The playful glint was replaced by genuine confusion. "Why? Did I do something wrong?"

You avoided his eyes, the sting of potential rejection a sharp pang in your chest. "It's nothing. Just…" you mumbled, "personal space, you know?"

He sat back, a heavy silence settling between you. You stole a glance at him, his brow furrowed in concern. The pit in your stomach deepened. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe it was just his way of being affectionate.

The following days were strained. Kurt kept his distance, his usual lightheartedness dimmed. You missed the teasing, the unexpected touches. Now, the quiet felt deafening. Was this what you wanted?

One particularly gloomy afternoon found you curled up on the couch, a mug of tea warming your hands. A faint warmth settled beside you, and Kurt's voice, softer than usual, filled the room. "Mind if I join you, Liebling?"

You looked up, hesitantly meeting his gaze. He offered a small, hesitant smile. "Not at all."

He scooted closer, but instead of his usual touch, he simply rested his arm on the back of the couch beside you. The silence stretched, but this time, it was comfortable. Finally, you spoke.

"Kurt, about the other day…"

He looked at you, his yellow eyes filled with concern. "You can tell me anything."

Taking a deep breath, you blurted out, "I thought you were… teasing me."

His brow furrowed. "Teasing you? How?"

You mumbled, "The touches. I thought…" Shame burned in your cheeks. "I thought you were making fun of…"

He cut you off, his voice laced with surprise. "Fun of what? You? Never, mein Schatz! You're…" he hesitated, then blurted out, "You feel amazing. Like a giant cuddle cloud."

Your cheeks turned scarlet. "A cuddle cloud?"

He laughed, a genuine, warm sound that chased away the gloom. "Yeah, a cuddle cloud! Soft, warm, perfect for snuggling."

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. He looked at you, a shy smile playing on his lips. "So, can I… maybe… cuddle the cuddle cloud?"

His words, devoid of any malice, hit you with unexpected force. Shame melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest. "Maybe," you said, a shy smile mirroring his own, "you can."

He scooted closer, this time wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close. His touch was gentle, a warm reassurance instead of a teasing prod. You melted into his embrace, the warmth of his body a welcome comfort.

Maybe, you thought, a little cuddle cloud wasn't such a bad thing after all.

[goodlucktai]

Are you still taking prompts? If so, could I ask for some rise!Raph and Mikey? Their brotherly relationship really intrigues me and I wish we could have seen more of it develop in the show, and I just know you would do it justice :D thanks

set pre-movie, canon divergence, in which i simply toss mikey at a problem to fix it

read on ao3

x

This same time last year, Mikey couldn’t wait to grow up. 

Because sometimes—only sometimes—he felt like he had something he needed to prove. 

It’s not that his family doesn’t believe in him. If anything, he thinks, from the lofty heights and newly acquired maturity of fourteen years old, they believe in him a little too much. Whatever he says he can accomplish, they give him room for—and if he can’t pull it off, they help him out and still afford him full credit. Mikey knows it’s just another way they spoil him, but it’s the least egregious manner in which they do, so he lets it slide. 

And it’s definitely not that he ever feels left out or left behind. Michelangelo and his brothers operate on a fulcrum that turns four ways as naturally as the needle on a compass, guided by gravity and the poles of the planet and something even more intrinsic and fundamental than all of that. 

Even when they’re fighting, when Mikey can’t be in the same room as Donnie without the Cain Instinct taking over or Leo goes full Mean Girls and has the cattiest-sounding Facetime with April about whichever one of them ticked him off, purposefully taking his call in the living room where they all could hear it, none of that ever lasts longer than a day. They burn bright and loud and hot, but they burn fast. Gravity keeps everything together. 

Come on, gravity, Mikey thinks, holding onto his temper very carefully. Do your thing. 

“I am not,” he says, for the billionth time in his life, “a baby.”

Raph looks a little nervous, which almost makes Mikey feel bad. But then he says, “That ankle’s sprained, big man. You shouldn’t walk on it.”

“Leo wrapped it up super well! I’ll be careful!” 

Their resident medic is smiling a little to himself, packing everything up again to his own meticulous organizational standards. (Only Donnie truly has his system figured out, but Mikey thinks that’s because they share a brain or soul or whatever.) It’s the full kit, too, Leo didn’t bother with the emergency supplies in his belt-bag and instead opened up a little dinner-plate-sized portal that he reached through to ransack their infirmary back home. 

Mikey wants to roll around on his shell in annoyance. It wasn’t even that bad!

“Sprains can be worse than breaks sometimes,” Leo remarks neutrally, as if he’s commenting on the weather. “Would you rather be careful now or laid up for a couple extra weeks?”

Raph seems grateful for the input, even though he doesn’t look at Leo and Leo doesn’t look up from his kit.

Ugh. “Ugh!” Mikey says out loud for good measure. “Then I can just walk on my hands!” 

It summons a wider smile from Leonardo, one of those crooked, pleasantly surprised ones. He’s so clever and thinks in circles around everyone else—not to be mean or tricky, just because his brain is as fast as Donnie’s and eats up seconds like a racecar around a Formula 1 track—that it’s fun to catch him off-guard with something totally out-of-pocket and watch that smile show up. 

“The whole way back to the Tank?” Raph says skeptically.

“You bet!” Mikey has warmed up to the idea now.

“This I have to see,” Donnie says, putting his phone away and folding his arms on Leo’s carapace. 

“I’ll have you know, Donald, that I walked on my hands for like two days once.” 

“Believe me, Michael, I remember. I was there.”

“You tried to make spaghetti for dinner with your feet,” Leo pipes up, and giggles when Donnie makes a gagging noise above him. He’s done packing his stuff up but he’s still sitting, probably because he likes the weight of his lazy twin leaning against his shell. 

Sensing no further help from that quarter, Raph says, “Mike—” but Mikey has already capitalized on his moment of indecision and flipped forward into a handstand. His foot actually does hurt a lot and his center of balance is a tiny bit skewed, but honestly he could do this for hours. He books it for the edge of the roof, putting something like a skip into his step just to make the twins laugh. There’s a shuffle and a cut-off noise that means the big worry-wart didn’t like it but puh-lease. Mikey’s safe as houses. 

It’s when he clambers up onto the parapet that he remembers the fire escape on this building is the kind with the rolling ladders, not the stairs. 

No one says anything behind him, letting him come to his own conclusion. Mikey would appreciate that except they’re only doing it because he’s the baby and they don’t want to upset him. 

Spinning around, the concrete scraping against his palms, Mikey aims an explosively unhappy frown at all three of them from upside-down.

“I could have done it,” he insists. 

“Of course you could have,” Raph is the first to say. “There’s not a doubt in my mind you could have walked to the moon on your hands if you wanted to. But you don’t have to walk while you’re hurt when Raph is here to carry you.”

He’s so earnest and sweet. It goes a long way in making Mikey forget why he was even annoyed to begin with. His brothers are lucky they’re so loveable! 

With a groan he tucks his head and shoulders and rolls forward, shell bumping playfully against the edge of the parapet, and comes right-side-up sitting criss-cross-applesauce.

“Fine,” he capitulates. “But only because Raphie thinks I could hand-walk to the moon.”

“And back,” Raph says, smiling down at him. Mikey lifts his arms to be scooped up and settled in his usual spot on Raph’s shoulder. 

If this was a year ago, Leo would have been right next to him, perched on Raph’s opposite shoulder and making silly jokes to make Mikey feel better. Leo loves to be carried. It was the one little brother thing his cool guy persona could never eclipse. The one thing Mikey was certain he wouldn’t outgrow no matter how old he got.

But instead of crossing the roof at a run to leap into Raph’s arms, always trusting the process, knowing they would open in time to catch him, Leo stays put. Maybe because Donnie is still resting his weight on him. But his expression is so transparently wistful and lonely for a split-second, even though his brothers are all right there, that it causes a pang of upset in Mikey’s heart. 

“Hey, Lee, room for one more,” he says, patting Raphie’s shoulder. 

Raph scoffs under his breath, which makes Mikey’s stomach do a surprised, uncomfy flip. Leo hears it, and his expression shutters so fast it’s almost unnatural, everything replaced by a wide, plastic smile. 

“Gotta get my steps in, Miguel,” he says, shoving his kit back through a portal and wiggling his shoulders so Donnie knows he’s about to stand up. “This figure doesn’t come free, you know.” 

He adds an imaginary hair-toss. Raph looks like he didn’t expect anything else. Mikey thinks he must not have seen that expression on Leo’s face. 

But it’s all Mikey can think about the entire drive home. That gulf between fourteen and fifteen where apparently everything changes. 

——

Something has been wrong for awhile now, ever since Pops made Leo the leader and turned their team inside out, but Mikey figured they were due for an adjustment period. Raph had a hard time letting go of responsibility and Leo had a hard time picking it up, but once they found their way back onto the same page everything would be okay. Gravity would keep them together. They didn’t know any other way to be. 

Except it’s been weeks and the arguing is only getting worse and it’s not even really that much fun to patrol anymore in the first place. Mikey usually loves going out at night with his brothers, finding bad guys to beat up and getting those ninja endorphins, but he’s sort of starting to feel about it the way kids in daytime television feel about homework. He just wants to get it over with.  

Tonight Leo is being a little silly. Flubbing jumps and slow to catch his cues. Once he even missed a sixteenth-story ledge and would have fallen—which was not funny at all and a bad joke to make—but Donnie’s arm shot out and caught him so smoothly that it had to have been planned. Like a trust fall! Or maybe twin telepathy actually is a thing and Donnie was just tricking them with all those printouts he handed around that one time to prove Leo wrong. Either way, Leo wasn’t actually in danger. 

Mikey loves silly Leo, and played right along into his antics, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Raph was ticked off and, by the time Leo missed that ledge, fed-up. He cut the evening short and told Leo to just portal them home. 

That’s when the wary little thing in the back of Mikey’s brain pokes its head up out of the ground. That’s when he realizes something was Wrong wrong. Capital wrong. 

Because Leo says, “Your wish is my command, my liege,” with the right amount of theater kid gusto, and that’s normal. He summons a pretty spinning blue portal as tall as Raph stood at the shoulder and hops through first, leaving Raph to make a hissing noise against his teeth and duck his head to follow, and that’s normal. Mikey glances over at Donnie, who doesn’t look up from where his snout is buried in his phone to wave Mikey ahead of him, and that’s normal, too.

It’s easy to take for granted how amazing Leo’s portals are. With two steps, Mikey walks off a cool rooftop in Brooklyn and into their warmly lit living room. He can hear Pops’ telenovelas from the projector room and smell the beef burgundy he’d left to simmer on the stove for dinner. 

And distracted as he is, listening to the familiar rising and falling cadence of Raph’s worn-out lecture about responsibility and watching the pretend-listening bob of Leo’s head, Mikey still sees it when the portal wobbles as Don steps through. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal, except Leo’s face goes white and his whole body stills, and the coloring of his stripes starts to tinge toward neon like his ninpo is about to light up. 

And that’s not normal at all. 

It was just a split-second of destabilization, and Donnie moves through it just fine, but Leo holds his breath and keeps the portal open until his twin is right beside him. 

“This is literally what I’m talking about,” Raph says, that worried wrinkle in his brow deeper than ever. “Leo please listen when I talk just this once. If you’re not paying attention someone could get hurt. What if the portal just then had—”

“Woah, did you hear that?” Leo says right over him, cupping a hand at the side of his head as if to listen for something. “There’s another super riveting lecture about everything I do wrong happening in my room. I’m gonna catch that one instead. Thanks for this, though.”

He slips away as easily as if he was part eel instead of turtle and books it out of the living room in a way that manages to look like a casual saunter instead of the full-steam retreat it actually is. 

Raph looks stunned at the blatant dismissal, and then hurt, and then it all boils together into something furious. He’s never actually angry with them. It’s just that he cares so, so much and sometimes he has nowhere to put it. Sometimes it becomes something too big for him to hold. 

Right in that moment, he seems ready to grab Leo and rattle him until he ran out of nonsense and had no choice but to listen. 

“I’ll handle this one, Raphala,” Donnie says abruptly. “I’m the one who almost got spliced, so I’m the one who gets to have the first opinion about it.”

Since the twins’ whole schtick is getting each other into and out of trouble with very little regard for anything else, Raph looks reasonably skeptical of him ‘handling’ it. But Don is already following Leo out of the room, and the potential of another argument is removed neatly by his exit. 

Raph deflates a little bit. He’s the biggest strongest person Mikey knows, but suddenly he looks small. 

“Hey, Raphie, wanna help me dish up dinner?” Mikey says, smiling up at him. Anxious to banish that uncharacteristic smallness with the full force of his own personality if that’s what it takes. “You take dad his plate and I’ll wrangle Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Lee.”

Raph smiles back at him, at least, and carefully carries two big servings of stew served over garlic mashed potatoes to the projector room. Pops will probably rope him into watching his shows and maybe Raph will actually take a minute to relax when it’s just him and dad and hearty comfort food and bad TV. 

Mikey ladles up two more bowls and takes a couple of individually-wrapped Gansito snack cakes out of his stash for good measure. It’s a sweet treat kind of night, he thinks. He’ll have to remember to get one for Raphie, too. 

Leo’s room is empty, and so is Donnie’s. Since Mikey doesn’t know where any of Leo’s secret hiding places are in their new lair, he only hesitates for a second before checking the lab. 

Oh, Mikey thinks, holding the tray in numb hands. Something is Wrong. 

The twins are both on the sofa that got shoved into the corner of the room as a compromise to Don’s occasional all-nighters, turtle-piled under a weighted blanket. Leo’s wearing noise-canceling headphones, using Don’s leathery carapace as a pillow. His mask is dangling from one sleep-loose hand, so the big dark circles under his eyes stand out on his pale face. 

Donnie’s still awake, tapping away on his phone. He doesn’t look up at the doorway that Mikey is standing in, but he does use one hand to sign a subtle, silent “no.” No talking? No company? Probably both. 

Swallowing hard, Mikey lifts the tray he’s holding up a little higher. That does get Don to look at him, and his second-oldest brother softens at whatever Mikey’s face must look like. He nods toward the desk, and signs, “Thanks, M. We’ll eat before it gets cold.” 

The only thing Mikey wants in the entire world at this moment is to crawl onto the sofa with them. He would probably get away with it, he doesn’t think there’s ever been a time in his entire life he wasn’t truly welcome in a turtle pile. But Donnie said no. And Leo looks so tired. 

He puts the tray on the desk, ninja-quiet, and leaves again without a whisper. 

His phone chimes in his pocket once he’s out the door, and he pulls it out to find a text from Don that says He’ll be okay, Angelo. He just needs to get some sleep. 

Leo’s relationship with sleep has always been hot-and-cold. Usually he’s pretty honest about it when it gets bad, in the sense that he lets them see how exhausted he is instead of hiding it behind a goofy, cocky exterior. 

Remembering that missed ledge from earlier tonight causes ice to form in Mikey’s stomach. That wasn’t a trust fall at all, was it?

Biting his lip, Mikey sends back, Would a visit from Dr. Feelings help?

The typing dots appear, but only for a second. The reply comes swiftly: Not this time. 

——

That night Mikey tosses and turns for an hour before finally pulling a move he hasn’t in ages and slinking over to Raph’s room. He lingers uncertainly in the open door, because he doesn’t know how little you have to be to be allowed to crawl into Raphie’s nest and let him hug the world all better. Mikey had thought that was a forever thing, but he can’t get Leo’s face on the rooftop out of his head. 

Raph is still awake, playing on his Switch, and notices the shadow that passes in front of the doorway instantly. He sets his game down and lifts one arm in automatic welcome and Mikey crosses the room at a run and slams into the embrace as if it’s an offer that might expire. 

And it might. Mikey had never really thought it would before. 

“Hey, big man,” Raph says, his voice a comforting rumble that rights all wrongs. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Mikey nods, and picks at a loose thread in the pink comforter, and then says, “Will you still carry me when I’m fifteen?”

“What? Of course I will.”

“What about sixteen?”

“You’re never gonna be too big for Raph to carry, Mike. I’ll always be the biggest, big enough to haul you bozos around whether you like it or not.”

Some frightened little creature inside Mikey’s chest loosens the grip it has on his heart with its teeth. But it doesn’t fully let go. And Mikey can’t help but ask, “What if we argue a lot and stop being friends?”

The idea of not being friends with his brother is enough on its own to make him want to burst into tears. He has no idea how Leo isn’t just constantly bawling. Then he remembers the circles under Leo’s eyes that don’t show when he’s wearing his mask and the way Donnie always follows him out of the room now. And he thinks it’s silly of him to forget that pain shows itself differently from one person to the next. 

Hurt chases understanding across Raph’s expression, and he squeezes Mikey a little tighter to his plastron. 

“I’ll love you no matter what, Angie. You and Leo and Don are forever for me, okay? If the world ends tomorrow, I’ll still be somewhere, loving my little brothers. It’s too big to just disappear.”

Mikey is fourteen years old and too old to be coddled anymore but not too old that he doesn’t trust in Raphael with his entire heart and then some. If Raph believes Mikey could walk to the moon and back, Mikey believes his biggest brother could lift up the whole sky and hold it for as long as he wanted to, if he wanted to.

Laying there under the warm pink blanket, with Raph’s twinkling nightlight in the corner and the sound of dad’s TV down the hall, Mikey thinks about things that last forever, things you can never outgrow—inside jokes between siblings, skilled hands wrapping sprained ankles, a door standing open in the dark in case you couldn’t sleep. 

Then he thinks about those looks on Raph’s and Leo’s faces when they thought no one was watching. How lonely they’ve both been without their best friend on their team. 

“Can you do me a favor tomorrow?” he asks before he can think better of it. “Scoop Leo.”

“Mikey…” Raph sighs, not wanting to say what Mikey already knows he’s thinking. That Leo would hate it, that it would cause another argument, that he doesn’t want to fight first thing tomorrow morning. He doesn’t want to fight at all. 

“Don’t—don’t do it like you’re mad,” Mikey adds quickly, heart thumping. “Like you caught him sneaking out or you need to keep him in one place so dad can check his stitches but he keeps slipping away like a buttered noodle. Do it like—like you missed him. Pretend he’s been gone for a long time and he just got home. And you’re happy to see him.”

Once Leo went away with April to an overnight camp. It was a nerd camp, he’d said gleefully, bright eyes scanning the brochure, and there was a chess league! April’s mom was a volunteer organizer and promised Splinter that it was a relatively small, local event, and that Leo would be safe. 

It was the longest the brothers had ever been apart before. Even though they texted and video called near-constantly, by the end of the week it had felt like they’d misplaced a limb somewhere. When Leo finally swanned into the lair he had bags of souvenirs for all of them and a hundred stories to tell and the first thing he did was drop everything and run straight into Raph’s open arms. The way he always does. The first thing he always does. 

Raph is looking at Mikey in the semi-dark with unreadable eyes. It takes a minute, seconds crawling by so slowly Mikey starts to worry Raph will say no. He builds up all these new fears, a subdivision development springing up where problems will live in rows of cookie-cutter houses and pay outrageous mortgages and never truly go away again. 

But then Raphie says, “Alright, Ange. But you’re dealing with the fallout.”

He sounds very tired, and a little like he’s just humoring someone who doesn’t know better, but a win is a win. 

The next day, when Leo is the last to wander into the kitchen even though he was probably the first one awake, and does that thing where he manages to not look a single person in the eye while otherwise acting totally normal, Raph frowns at him. 

Mikey can tell it’s concern. He thinks Leo expects it to be something else, and manages to find whatever he’s looking for even if it’s not really there.

But then Raphael glances over at Mikey, and Mikey holds out his arms and mimes a big scoop. Setting his jaw as though he’s about to go head-to-head with the Shredder again, Raph scoots his chair back from the table, rounds it, and then lifts Leo clean off his feet. 

Leo’s eyes are huge and he squirms like a hooked fish, but then Raph says, all bright and charming, “Look what the goat-man dragged in! How’d you sleep, champ?”

“Fine,” the slider says cautiously, slowing his escape attempts, but still looking like he half-expects this to be a trap. When Raph hums and nothing else happens, some little piece of his guard goes down and he adds, “Good. Slept, um, right through my alarm actually. Was worried I was gonna miss Chef Miguel’s magic.”

“Yeah? If you’re still feeling tired after breakfast, you should catch another nap. You know Raph worries.”

They’re each braced for the other to hurt their feelings. But being inside Raph’s arms when he wants to hold you is the best place in the whole world to be. Nothing bad exists and nothing has the power to make you feel small or ugly or scared. It’s just you and this big guy who loves you, who loves to carry you. 

For the first time in weeks, Leo’s plastic smile wobbles and slips. He blinks and his eyes get wet and he reaches up to sling his arms around his big brother’s neck. The way to get inside Leo’s head, past all the anxieties, past that constant guard, is to hold him and sound happy to see him. He wants so badly to be wanted. Mikey can’t understand how someone as smart as Leo doesn’t know that he already is. 

“I know,” Leo chokes out, “I’m sorry.”

Raph couldn’t have looked more stunned if someone had taken this moment to dump a bucket of ice water on his head. But in true Raph fashion, his arms tighten around his little brother automatically, readjusting their hold so that Leo is more secure. The shape of it transforms from quick hug into steadfast embrace. 

Mikey’s biggest brother, who could hold up the whole sky, will stand there and hold Leo together until the heat death of the universe, or until Leo lets go. 

“Hey,” Raph says gently, “how about we hit the arcade later, just the two of us? We’re overdue a jam session and I’ll bet there’s a karaoke machine with our names on it.” 

“As long as you promise not to attempt Mariah Carey, I’m down for anything, big guy.” Because Leo would follow Raph anywhere, has followed Raph everywhere, and they both seem to be remembering that in real time. 

It really must have thrown Leo’s world out of orbit to be the one pushed out in front and expected to lead, with no prior warning or discussion. A jam session is exactly what the two of them need.

“I’ll make French toast for breakfast, but only if we can agree on toppings,” Mikey pipes up from the kitchen, as casually as if his whole heart isn’t a painful, hopeful thing lodged in his throat.

“Raspberry jam,” Leo muffles from somewhere between Raph’s shell and shoulder, “or I’m rioting.”

Raspberry jam and cream cheese stuffed French toast is Raphael’s well-known, all-time favorite breakfast food. Raph shouldn’t be surprised that Leo knows that, so the surprise must come from somewhere else. The last couple of weeks of stress and hurt and frustration go sliding off his spiky shell like water, all replaced by relief. The worry and confusion are still there, but those weigh practically nothing in comparison. He smacks a noisy kiss on the top of Leo’s head, grinning brightly when Leo whines and starts half-heartedly trying to noodle away. 

“What’d I tell you?” Donnie says, from his sleepy stake-out in front of the Keurig. “Dr. Feelings is a smart guy, but he doesn’t hold a candle to the smartest guy I know. A Mikey makes everything better.”

Mikey beams at him, the kitchen warm and full and lively, Raph and Leo squabbling playfully by the table, his morning playlist belting out something folky and upbeat, gravity pulling everything back to where it belongs.  

Fifteen doesn’t feel so scary anymore. But maybe Mikey’s okay with taking the long way there, after all. 

[rafedaddy01]

Kissing in the Rain

Summary: Rafe picks reader up from a date and let’s her complain about all the sleazy things he did and when he gets angry and jealous they get in an argument, but as he drives her home it starts raining really bad and they have to pull over. They get a motel room and things get a little too heated.

Warnings: none

Notes: this was another request, but it was anonymous so I don’t know who sent it :( but whoever did thank you!!

It was 12am and your date had taken you to a party, one were he left you all alone and you found him making out with, not one, but two girls.

You didn’t even bother confronting him.

You simply stepped outside and dialed the one person you knew you could always rely on. Rafe.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing Rafe, ca-can you come pick me up?”

“Ar-are you okay? Where are you”

“I’ll send you my address”

You sit and wait and see Rafes truck pull up.

“Get in” he says as he reaches over from inside the truck and opens your door.

“Thanks for coming” you awkwardly say as he drives away.

“No problem, but uh… I thought you were on a date.” He says the last word a bit to harshly. “What happened?”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started. I don’t know why I even decided to go out with him, my friend said he was a catch.” You snort as you remember what you caught him doing “I’m just glad I got away without a fight”

Rafe nods as he listens to you.

“You know, I don’t think you should be dating. Especially so soon”

You roll your eyes as Rafe brings up JJ, your most recent boyfriend.

“Rafe. Don’t start”

“I’m serious y/n, I warned you about him too. You just don’t listen, you shouldn’t be with a guy like him you should be -“ he cuts himself off and your about to ask him what he was gonna say when it starts pouring.

“Ah shit, I can’t see anything” he groans as he turns on his high beams but it’s still no use “I think we have to pull over”

Rafe pulls into the closest building to us, a motel.

“Weather app says it won’t stop raining till morning.”

“Maybe we should get a room” you suggest “I’m pretty tired and we really should continue this conversation when your not driving”

Rafe nods and you both get out of the car and head inside.

Your sopping wet as you both enter the room.

“I’m gonna shower” you announce

Before you walk off Rafe tugs your arm

“Y/n. What I was gonna say earlier-“

“Rafe, stop. You don’t -“

“I love you” he says

You laugh a little as you look into his eyes. Once you see he is serious your smile disappears.

“Rafe..”

“Y/n I’m serious. I know you feel it too, don’t try to deny it! Why do you think it never worked with any of those guys?”

He walks toward you and you don’t move. Instead your eyes are locked with his, occasionally dropping down to his lips.

He’s right. You’ve liked him for some time now. Who are you kidding, you’ve loved him since you first laid eyes on him.

“Tell me to stop”

His hands grip your waist and pull you in.

You place your hand on his chest, feeling his heart pound.

Water droplets falls off your hair and running down your cheeks.

“Tell me to stop and I will” he whisperes as he pressing his forehead to yours and leans his lips closer.

He smirks at your silence as he finally dips down and fully captures your lips with his.

He kisses you like your his breath of oxygen, like he’s drowning and your his only supply of air. He heals your soul with his kiss.

You both start slowly undressing each others, lips still entangled.

He leads you to the bathroom and props you up on the counter, pulling away only to start the shower.

He smiles as he walks back to you and cups your face. He pecks your lips and picks you up, placing you down in the shower.

“Let me show you just why I’m the only one you’ll ever need”

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf

[cloudcountry]

meet him halfway

Genre/Tropes: Unestablished relationship. No notable ones!!

Summary: Kalim catches onto Jamil's little crush on you (it's more than that) and Jamil denies it because there's no way the two of you could ever end together (even though you want to.)

Author's Comments: This is loosely based on the song "I Won't Say I'm in Love" from Hercules. I stared with the intention of Kalim being more insistent (and taking the role of the muses) but then it turned into this.

~~~~~

“Are you packing extra food for the Prefect again?”

Jamil winced at the loud voice as Kalim popped up over his shoulder, watching as he chopped up the meat he was using for Kalim’s lunch.

“No. And don’t say again, I never have. They can feed themselves.” he hissed, brow furrowing as he continued chopping.

“Aww, okay. You just always end up giving them the second box so I thought-”

“I make one for myself, too. Don’t think too much of it.” he said, “I’m only required to make your meals. I do not do such things for the Prefect.”

“Really? Because I thought you liked them!” Kalim responded.

WHAT?

Jamil jumped, whirling around to face him. He couldn’t wipe the annoyed glare off his face as Kalim blinked at him innocently.

How did he figure it out?!

“It’s nothing like that.” he sighed, shaking his head, “I have to make lunch for myself, you know. It has nothing to do with them.”

“Are you sure?” Kalim asked, looking very puzzled, “Because you smile a lot when you talk to them and they’re always in the kitchen with you during our parties instead of hanging out with everyone else. They’ve even told me about how you taught them to cook stuff from our home- Mmph!”

Jamil placed a hand over Kalim’s mouth, effectively cutting off his train of thought. This was bad. If Kalim knew about his feelings for you, there was no telling who else knew. If that annoying octopus from Octavinelle figured it out Jamil would be in a world of trouble.

How irritating.

“Don’t say such senseless things.” he hissed, releasing Kalim, “I have no feelings for the Prefect whatsoever. Has anyone else been talking about this baseless rumor?”

“No…I just thought you might like someone.” Kalim pouted, “I got excited because I like the Prefect and I wanted an excuse to throw parties for them-”

“Well, I don’t. Now go away. I won’t get your lunch prepared at this point.” Jamil shooed him away, knowing full well he would have had his lunch ready regardless.

“Okay! But I invited them over, so if you want to say hi you can!” Kalim beamed, scurrying out of the kitchen before Jamil could yell at him.

Was he serious?! Ugh, now he had to deal with you too.

Jamil rolled his eyes before getting back to work, hoping he could finish his duties before you arrived. If he could get Kalim his lunch and make sure he had all his things and walk Kalim to his class and then get to his without running into you, it would be the ideal morning.

With the way he talked about you, one would think he hated you.

That conclusion would be better than thinking he liked you.

He sped up his pace, not missing a beat as he finished up the two lunchboxes (one of which was totally for him. Giving it to you didn’t even cross his mind, because why in the world would he do that?)

“Jamil?” you called his name, opening the door to the kitchen, “Are you in here?”

“Yes.” he responded, mentally kicking himself for letting you know where he was even though it’d be suspicious to hide from you.

“Hey!” you caught his gaze, beaming as you shut the door behind you, “Is Kalim giving you trouble again? I can get his stuff together for you.”

“It’s fine. I can handle it.” he shot you a smile, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation.

It was you, though. Of course you kept talking.

“Of course you can. I just don’t want to get too stressed out.” you sighed, sounding upset that he hadn’t let you help.

“...If you could help walk Kalim to his next class, that would be a big help.” he mumbled, turning his head towards you for the first time since you came in.

Your face was so happy, the smile on your lips brighter than the overhead lights of the kitchen. Jamil swallowed thickly, face warming at the sight of you.

Pretty.

“Of course I can! I’ll make sure he gets there safe and sound, so you can count on me!” you cheered.

Jamil sighed again, stacking the two boxes. At least this way, both you and Kalim would be out of his hair shortly. He’d be able to fulfill his duties of watching Kalim and get to his class without a headache today because of you.

Besides, it’s not like he wanted to walk around with Kalim.

“Here, take these. They’re for Kalim’s lunch.” Jamil shoved the boxes into your hands, turning away quickly.

“Thank you! I’ll tell him that you’re almost ready to go!” you tucked the boxes into your chest like they were precious gems before exiting the kitchen.

He breathed a sigh of relief, resting against the counter. He didn’t have time for you or your smiles or laughs. He had a duty to Kalim, and he just partially gave that up to get away from you. He wasn’t in his right mind right now at all. Shaking his head, he wrinkled his nose at the feelings swarming around in his chest.

Whatever these feelings were, he couldn’t act on them. He was in no position to devote himself to another when his entire life was to be spent in service of Kalim.

It would be unfair to you to expect you to take his hand if he could only extend it halfway.

(Unbeknownst to him, you’d always been trying to meet him halfway.)

[lunatyklines]

OVER THE GARDEN WALL (P.1) - a collection of lines from the beloved animated spooky season classic. a rp meme. *adjust pronouns and wording as needed

❝ Wait, wait a second. Uh … [name]? Where are we? ❞

❝ Do you think it's some kind of deranged lunatic with an axe waiting out there in the darkness for innocent victims? ❞

❝ Well, you're slapping yourself, and I'm answering your question, and– ❞

❝ This guy sounds loony. Maybe we should make a break for it, if we can. ❞

❝ We may need to knock him out first. ❞

❝ I dunno. Sometimes I feel like I'm just like…a boat, upon a winding river…twisting, towards an endless black sea… ❞

❝ Did you know, that if you soak a raisin in grape juice, it turns into a grape? ❞

❝ Ugh, you're not helping at all. ❞

❝ Aw, beans! Where is that frog o' mine? ❞

❝ You have beautiful eyes. ❞

❝ Oh, holy moley, hot dog–!! ❞

❝ That was the plan, remember? Knock him out! ❞

❝ Can you turn me into a tiger? It doesn't have to be a magical tiger. ❞

❝ [Name], stop talking to a bush. ❞ 

❝ Oh– do you like waffles? ❞

❝ Pumpkins can't move on their own! Can they? ❞

❝ You find this place as creepy as I do, right? ❞

❝ So, it's some kind of weird cult. They seem nice enough. ❞

❝ Okay. You're in denial. That's fine. ❞

❝ I'm really just looking to leave here. As fast as possible. ❞

❝ You'll never convict! You have no proof! ❞

❝ I simply have to punish you for your transgressions. ❞

❝ I told you this place was bad news! ❞

❝ Maybe they're gonna bury you out there. ❞

❝ Yes! I want your help! ❞

❝ I guess in some ways, I'm trying to get home too. ❞

❝ I don't have to tell you anything. ❞

❝ But we have to do something fun. ❞

❝ We can just keep walking silently, you know? ❞

❝ Hey! What? I'm not a pushover. ❞

❝ The world is a miserable place, [Name]. Life isn't fun. ❞

❝ We need to do our part to make the world a better place! ❞

❝ School?! Not today. ❞

❝ You're late. You know the rules. ❞

❝ Oof. That lady's got some baggage. ❞

❝ So, my theory is hot dogs are not actually dogs, regardless of what they teach you in school. ❞

❝ Oh boy! Mealtime! ❞

❝ This is way better than being chased by a gorilla. ❞

singing ❝ Oh potatoes and molasses, if you want some, oh just ask us~ ❞

❝ I just wanted to have fun, change the world, and make it a better place. But I just made everything worse. ❞

❝ You're a stubborn jerk. When are you gonna give this up? ❞

❝ If only something would go right for a change. ❞

❝ Okay, I think he's asleep. Let's go steal his stuff. ❞

❝ All he ever did was steal my heart away. ❞

❝ I found a duck. Do you know how to make eggs from a duck? I'm hungry. ❞

❝ Finally some good luck. Let's go to this creepy tavern and ask for some directions. ❞

❝ Curse you! Curse you! You'll die someday and I'll laugh! ❞

❝ What kind of person goes out chopping trees in the middle of a thunderstorm at night? ❞

❝ You don't need directions. You follow that compass inside your heart. ❞

❝ Uh … no, I think we need directions. ❞

❝ [Name] was amazing! He sang a song, rode a horse, and saved you from the axe guy! ❞

❝ I was thinking more like flat-out stealing from him. ❞

❝ I want to steal. ❞

❝ Yeah! I want to see the ghost! To the painting! ❞

❝ Afraid of a ghost? Ghosts are just floaty things. ❞

❝ It's stuck. Well, guess we just have to spend some quality time together. ❞

❝ Don't change the subject. ❞

❝ How about you tell me about your darkest secrets instead? ❞

❝ My secrets are too secret. ❞

❝ Now who's avoiding the question? ❞

❝ I secretly whisper poetry to myself in my room at night. ❞

❝ It looks like there was a struggle – a violent struggle. ❞

❝ I can't thank you enough for helping me to face my fears. ❞

❝ It's a rock fact! ❞

[rabbitblackx]

I'm self-cautious about my weight, I could use some cheering up by Jason Voorhees, but I'm not the only one with insecurity about weight-gains. So how about a headcanon for slashers with an S/O who is insecure about their weight gain after finding out from someone or by the weighing scale.

Hearing about me gaining weight made me want to go on a diet and eat less. So It'd be nice to know what the slashers would do about it to make their S/O feel better about themselves and not hurt themselves. :)

I’m terrible at choices so I only did jacey :( I’m a bit of a realist when it comes to writing slashers so sorry if he comes off a tad cold. Hope u enjoy anyway <3 ps I bet u look lovely

Jason Voorhees with a Reader who’s insecure about their weight

Your coworker had a baby last year, and finally returned to work from her family leave. You welcomed her back with a friendly smile, asking about her new bundle of joy. She seemed almost shocked to see you, eyes wide and looking you up and down

“What? What is it?” Your brow furrowed as you followed her gaze down your body

“Nothing!” The woman blurted. “It’s just… you’re a bit—bigger from when I saw you last…”

…

Jason wasn’t far from your cabin, and was alerted that you were back from work by your shoes clobbering noisily against the porch. Followed by you ripping the door open and throwing it shut

“Jason!” You barked. You looked around your cabin, noticing he wasn’t there. “Course you’re not here.” You rolled your eyes with a huff

You approached the kitchen table and dumped your bag onto it, grumbling to yourself while running a hand through your hair. As you turned on the spot, the bejesus was practically scared out of you as Jason seemingly teleported right behind you

“Oh, good. There you are.”

Jason tilted his head, wondering what got you in such a crabby mood. You lifted your hands up dramatically and purposefully parted your lips, signalling to him you were about to go on a full rant. Jason nearly audibly sighed

“You will not believe what this woman said to me today.” You gossiped like a teenager

Jason stood there like a soldier as you went on a mini tantrum about how your dumb coworker basically said that you had gotten fat

“Which is ridiculous, since she’s the one that just had a baby! Like, sorry to break it to ya, Margaret. But that bikini body is never coming back. Welcome to motherhood!” You carried on, placing one hand on your hip while the other was raised up sassily

Respectfully, Jason had absolutely no idea what you were talking about. You ignored his obvious confusion and turned away from him, going over to the fridge to get some cold water

“Like, how dare she? I was so nice to her too! And that was the first thing she said to me.” You rambled, grabbing a bottle of water and gulping it down

Jason didn’t know how to help you. He was not at all great at comfort. So instead, he simply walked out to let you cool off. That hurt your feelings a bit, but you just went about your evening anyway

Jason came back to your cabin in the nighttime, when you were getting ready for bed. He peeked his head through your bedroom door, pausing when he saw you standing in front of the mirror

You were in your pyjamas, staring intently at your reflection. Your hands went to your belly, sliding under your shirt and giving the skin a squeeze. Jason could see the big frown that crept across your features. He didn’t like it at all

He swung the door open and entered the room. You turned your head and looked at him, clearly biting back tears. He slowly walked over, standing just inches away from you

“She’s right. I have gained weight.” You sniffled

Ugh, great… now you were sad. Couldn’t you just go back to being angry? Jason could actually relate to that emotion…

“Do you think I look bad? Should I go on a diet?” You asked

You whirled back around to the mirror, studying your body while trying not to cry. Jason leered behind you, too watching you through the reflection. His shoulders slumped. Agh, you! Why’d you make him feel all this human stuff? You almost made him feel… god forbid, bad… which he thought was almost impossible

Jason reached up to his mask, carefully peeling it away from his face. Your eyes were finally ripped away from your body, now watching him in the mirror. You nearly flinched when the hockey mask hit the floor, teetering momentarily before laying still

Jason now stood unmasked behind you. You didn’t dare look back, instead having a stare off with him in the mirror. You froze up as he broke the distance between you two, pressing up against your behind. He placed both hands on either of your shoulders, slowly leaning over to rest his chin on top of your head. His hands soon traveled down your front, moving to wrap around your waist in a makeshift hug

The both of you silently stared at each other in the mirror, not moving a muscle. A single tear slipped down your cheek. It wasn’t much, but you knew that Jason was trying his best.

“Thanks, Jason.” You tearfully whispered, a smile meeting your face for the first time tonight

And just so you knew, no, he did not think you needed to go on a diet

[vannys-pizzaplex-askblog]

How about Edward getting held up by his own robot and Zip decides to tickle him down instead of helping him

"The Shrieking Scientist"

Lers: Zip

Lees: Edward

Note: This will contain some Zipward :3

Edward kicked and grunted, trying to free himself from his own robot's grasp.

"Ugh! This wasn't supposed to happen-! Can someone help me??? Please??"

He started to call for help, desperate to get down. Zip ended up hearing his calls for help, walking into the room. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight.

"O-Oh my goodness! What happened, Edward??"

Edward huffed, his face turning red with embarrassment.

"I was running a few tests on my robot...But then it suddenly grabbed me and now I've been like this ever since!"

Zip giggled even more, finding this very amusing.

"That must suck...Would you like me to get you down?"

Edward nodded desperately in response.

"That would be great...Thanks."

Zip's playful smirk widened, her tail wagging behind her.

"Alright...I'll help you. Right after I have my fun first~"

Without any warning, Zip brought her hands up and started to tickle Edward's sides. Edward squeaked, starting to squirm even more.

"W-Wahahait-! *Snrk* Nohohoho don't do thahahat!!"

Zip chuckled, only continuing her playful attack.

"Aww, is my sweet Edward ticklish?~ That's so cute!"

Edward's face turned even redder, his tail starting to wag behind him.

"N-Nohohoho! *Snrk* Stop ihihit! You're s-supposed to get me dohohohown!"

Zip hummed in response, switching to Edward's stomach.

"I know, but this is better! You're so cute when you're all helpless and laughing like this!~"

Edward whined, tears of laughter in the corners of his eyes.

"S-Shuhuhut uhuhuhup! *Snrk* This isn't cuhuhute!"

Zip gasped in fake offense, now digging her fingers into Edward's hips.

"Hey! That's not how you talk to your oh so helpful girlfriend, now is it?"

Edward's eyes widened, he was now basically howling with laughter.

"WAHAHAHAIT NOHOHOHOHO I'M- *SNRK* I'M SOHOHOHORRY--!!!"

Zip only giggled more. She was having way too much fun with this.

"You mean that, don't you?~ You're really sorry?~"

Edward desperately nodded, his tears now rolling down his face.

"Y-YEHEHEHES! *SNRK* I- *SNRK* IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY!!"

Zip tilted her head, pretending to think about his apology.

"I dunno...How do I know that you aren't lying?~"

Edward threw his head back, basically going limp from all the laughter.

"Z-ZIHIHIHIP! *SNRK* I-I MEAN IHIHIHIT! PLEASE *SNRK* HAHAHAVE MEHERCY!!"

Zip chuckled softly, finally pulling her hands away.

"Good! I shall help you down now."

Slowly, she helped Edward free himself from the robot's grasp, being sure not to hurt him. Edward simply flopped into her arms, feeling rather tired.

"Ugh....*huff* T-That was evil.."

Zip blushed, holding Edward in her arms and patting his hair.

"Aww come on, it wasn't that bad...I love you."

Edward huffed, wrapping his arms around Zip.

"...I love you too."

[catindabag]

TBOSAS on Crack short take (64)

*How Dr. Gaul’s Reaping Day Speech went*

Coryo: *enters Heavensbee Hall* Ugh. I’m tired.😞 I should’ve waited for Seji Pie’s car to pick me up.

Clemensia: Snowy! Snowy, over here!

Festus: Coryo, my bro, they’re serving posca today!

Coryo: Free posca?🥹

Festus: Yeah! Free posca!

Felix: And a scandalously tasting lamb!

Coryo: Nice! Let me just grab a plate real quick.

Lysistrata: No need! You can have my plate instead.😊

Coryo: Thank you, Lizzie. You’re the best.

Lysistrata: Of course I am.

Felix: Try the lamb stew first. It’s really delicious.

Coryo: Well, don’t mind if I do-

Clemensia: Bestie, are you sweating right now?

Coryo: Yeah.

Clemensia: Did you walk from your place to school again?

Coryo: Unfortunately.

Festus: I thought you and your darling boyfriend decided to take his car to school today?

Coryo: I thought so too. However, Strabo Plinth happened.

Felix: Did your Seji Pie stood you up because of his scheming father?

Coryo: No, not really. Ma called me earlier and said that her two beloved idiots were having another shouting match about the Hunger Games again.

Festus: Why though?

Clemensia: Its Reaping Day, you child.🙄

Festus: Reaping Day?! That’s today?!

Clemensia: Obviously.

Festus: But I thought today was Flower Power Friendship Day!

Coryo: ✨FPFD✨ was last month, Creed!

Festus: Oh. My mistake. Now I feel bad for wearing my glow in the dark sunflower suit for this solemn event.😞

Coryo: Well, at least you’re not wearing your blinding mirrorball suit like last time.

Festus: To be fair, I thought we were celebrating ✨Glitter Glam Dance Dance Baby Day✨, and not Highbottom’s Killer Kids Game.

Felix: But seriously, Creed, stop wearing your weird suits every Reaping Day. People might think that you’re being undeniably churlish and disrespectful.

Festus: Fine! But no promises.

Androcles: At least you’re not wearing inappropriate short shorts like Heavensbee-

Hilarius: My Reaping Day short shorts are classy and iconic, Andie! They even make my long luscious legs look fabulous.

Androcles: I disagree.

Hilarius: But-

Urban: Honestly, Hilari, Anderson is right. Your Reaping Day short shorts just make you look like a stupid kinky whor-

Lysistrata: Watch your profanities, Ban Ban.

Urban: You’re not my mom!

Lysistrata: Thank Panem for that.

Hilarius: My short shorts are beautiful!

Androcles: Doubt.

Coryo: *sighs* I wish my Seji Pie was here right now-

Sejanus: *suddenly appears and hugs Coryo from behind* My love, I’m finally here!

Coryo: What’s wrong, Babe? Why are you crying?

Sejanus: You have to help me fight my evil old man again!😭

Coryo: Fine. Let’s go.

Felix: May the odds be ever in your favor, brother.

Coryo: Thanks. *walks away to confront Strabo with a crying Sejanus*

Lysistrata: Poor Sejanus. He’s going to make a scene again, isn’t he.😔

Clemensia: I hope not.

Felix: But he probably will.

Hilarius: I’ll bet 50 bucks that he’ll throw his chair at our poor innocent screen again.

Festus: Like last year’s Hunger Games?

Dennis: Lol. Last year was wild.

Androcles: Last year was awful.

Urban: What do you mean by awful Last time I checked, we don’t watch the Hunger Games.

Felix: True. We have agreed to stop watching Highbottom’s Killer Kids Game for good because of poor Coryo’s mental and “feral” breakdowns.

Urban: Don’t forget about Apollo Ring’s endless crying and crazy Monty’s death screams.

Androcles: Of course I know that, Ban Ban. We all know that.

Dennis: To be fair, the blood and gore will only trigger our irreversible war traumas again.

Androcles: But that still didn’t stop rich boy Sejanus Plinth from throwing his chair at the screen last year.

Felix: He also threw mine.😢

Dennis: And mine.

Clemensia: Well, unlike the rest of you, I’m the only one who doesn’t have an irreversible war trauma-

Dennis: Yet. You don’t have one yet! But someday, you will!😀

Androcles: Eventually.

Dennis: Definitely.

Clemensia: Is that a threat?

Dennis: No. I just have a strong feeling that this year, you’ll finally develop one that will make your boring life more interesting-

Androcles: Just like the rest of us!

Clemensia: I would rather stay normal and boring.

Dennis: Don’t you want to connect with Palmyra Monty-

Clemensia: No.

Dennis: Or understand Persephone’s crazy behavior?

Clemensia: No.

Androcles: But Percy Price is great! I mean, just look at her sniffing and asking those unlucky students over there if they stole her “delicious” Maid Stew again.

Persephone: *is running wild all over the place* Where’s my Maid Stew?! Give me my Maid Stew! Festus, my love, did you hide my precious stew?! Weewoo! Where’s my stew?! Arachne, you b*tch! Give me my stew!

Festus: Not again.😞

Arachne: I’m so calling the Peacekeepers after this.

Felix: *sighs* I just hope that this year will be peaceful and productive for everyone-

Arachne: But you.

Felix: Don’t jinx me, Crane! I’ll curse you back!

Arachne: Lol. You can try-

Felix: I hope you’ll wear an ugly neck brace for the rest of the Hunger Games!

Arachne: Ha! Like that would ever happen-

Felix: Just you wait, Crane. Just you wait!

Clemensia: Yup. I would rather stay normal.

Hilarius: So. . . Who wants to continue the betting?😊

Urban: Fine. I’ll bet 70 bucks if Plinth throws at least 2 chairs at Dr. Gaul today.

Pup: A hundred if one of those chairs “accidentally” hits Highbottom.

Hilarius: A thousand if Highbottom blames poor Coryo for not defending him against Plinth.

Pup: Hilari, I thought you said that you don’t have any money left to bet since the day that your creepy old man froze your weekly allowance for good-

Hilarius: That’s why I’m betting.

Pup: You do know that your odds of winning are pretty low, right?

Hilarius: That’s why I’m betting everything.😎

Pup: Well, good luck being homeless and penniless before this day ends.

Hilarius: I’m not homeless! I’m just temporarily displaced and having indefinite sleepovers with Festus and his pet rats!

Pup: Please don’t tell me that you’re sleeping inside Creed’s rat infested dumpster-

Festus: Heavensbee is currently sleeping in my rat infested dumpster.

Pup: How the mighty have fallen.

Hilarius: FYI, Pup, Creed’s old dumpster was cozy and comfortably-

Lysistrata: Dirty.

Gaius: Yo, can I bet too?

Coryo: *joins the group again with a now happy Sejanus* Guys, please stop betting on my boyfriend’s random outbursts and anger issues.

Urban: Why?

Coryo: He will cry.

Sejanus: I will cry.

Festus: 20 bucks if Seji Pie yells “you’re all monsters” at the teachers again.

Sejanus: Double it.

Coryo: Festus, don’t encourage him!

Festus: But I need money.

Coryo: We all need money!

Sejanus: I have money.😀

Hilarius: Can I borrow-

Sejanus: No. You’re not my Coryo.

Hilarius: Sad.😢

Prof.Sickle: Children, sit down! We’re officially starting!

Felix: But we’re still eating-

Prof.Sickle: F*ck your lamb stew! Sit down!

Felix: My Gran Gran will hear about this.

Coryo: Let’s get this over with and go home to your place, Babe.

Sejanus: Will you hold and comfort me when I cry again, my love?🥺

Coryo: Always.

Festus: Front seat! Front seat! I’ll take the front seat!

Felix: Coryo, let me sit next to you-

Lysistrata: Me first!

Hilarius: No, me!

Apollo: Weewoo! Excuse me!

Diana: Bro, share the chair!

Androcles: Scooch over, Hilari! I’m sitting next to Felix.

Persephone: Festus!

Festus: Yes, my love?

Persephone: Sit on my lap!

Festus: Really?

Persephone: Sit on my lap now!

Festus: Yes, my queen!

Hilarius: Yo, Urban, can I sit on your lap?

Urban: F*ck off, Heavensbee.

Sejanus: Coryo-

Coryo: I’m already sitting on yours, Babe.

Sejanus: I know that and I love it, my love!😍 Every bit of it! Every single minute!

Coryo: Babe-

Sejanus: You can even sit on my lap forever!

Coryo: My love-

Sejanus: And ever and ever!

Prof.Sickle: Children! Children, for the love of Panem, please act normal today!

Palmyra: Define normal-

Dr.Gaul: *enters the scene* How tantalizing to see all your shining young faces on this auspicious day-

Androcles: Is this day really auspicious?

Felix: *is still holding and eating his lamb stew* Nah. This lamb stew is more auspicious than her.

Everyone: *snickers*

Gaius: Nice one, Class Pres!

Prof.Sickle: Children, quiet!

Dr.Gaul: *glares at Felix* I am Dr. Volumnia Gaul! Your humble Head Gamemaker-

Hilarius: She ain’t humble though-

Prof.Sickle: Heavensbee!

Hilarius: Just saying.

Dr.Gaul: *glares daggers at Hilarius* In charge of the War Department and all its affiliated concerns-

Festus: *stands up and praises the heavens* Thank Panem! Thank you, Panem! She’s not in charge of the Food Department!

Prof.Sickle: Creed-

Festus: *turns around and faces the crowd* Hip hip!

Everyone: Hooray!

Festus: Hip hip!

Everyone: Hooray!🥳

Festus: Hip hip-

Prof.Sickle: Creed, sit down!

Festus: I was just-

Dr.Gaul: *suddenly throws a chalkboard eraser at Festus* As I was saying, you stupid brat!

Festus: You were saying?

Vipsania: Wow. He just said that.

Diana: Creed is so brave.

Juno: And stupid.

Domitia: Definitely.

Livia: Lol. Somebody is getting another demerit again.

Festus: And it’s not gonna be me-

Prof.Sickle: For the love of my sh*tty salary, Creed! Sit the f*ck down and shut up!

Festus:. . .

Everyone:. . .

Prof.Sickle: Dr. Gaul, please continue.

Dr.Gaul: As I was saying, I’d broken free of my laboratory today-

Coryo: That was a big mistake.

Sejanus: True.

Felix: I concur.

Dr.Gaul: What is wrong with you?!

Coryo: Sejanus, my love, she is bullying me again!

Sejanus: Felix, give me your chair!

Felix: No.

Hilarius: Don’t be a coward, Class Pres! Give him your chair!

Felix: No! Sejanus will just throw my poor innocent chair again!

Hilarius: I need money!

Sejanus: I need a chair!

Hilarius: *stands up* Here! You can have my chair!

Sejanus: Ew. No. I’m not touching that.

Hilarius: Why?!😭

Sejanus: You know why!

Hilarius: Sleeping in a dumpster for 3 straight days doesn’t mean that I’m permanently filthy!

Festus: My pet rats disagree.

Prof.Sickle: Dr. Gaul, please continue!

Dr.Gaul: To examine you!

Apollo: Me?

Dr.Gaul: Yes, you! The leaders of the next generation-

Apollo: I’m going to be a leader?

Urban: I hope not.

Dr.Gaul: *is now giving everyone her infamous death stare* I won’t be around forever after all-

Clemensia: Thank Panem.

Felix: Thank you, Panem!

Diana: Panem is good!

Gaius: All the time!

Lysistrata: Penam is good?

Apollo: All the time!

Sejanus: My pockets are full!

Coryo: All the time!

Androcles: My grades are sh*t!

Urban: All the time!

Palmyra: My cooking is good!

Everyone: No!

Prof.Sickle: *is now losing her mind* Children, please! I’m begging you! Be normal! Be f*ckin’ normal! Just for today! Dammit! Just for this f*ckin’ day! Heck! Do it for me! Do it for your favorite teacher!

Livia: She’s not my favorite-

Prof.Sickle: I really really need that f*ckin’ salary raise, you monsters!😭

Dr.Gaul:. . .

Everyone:. . .

Felix: This lamb stew still tastes scandalous though.

Io: Felix, please-

Felix: Just saying.

Dr.Gaul: Highbottom was right! I should’ve retired years ago!😩