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whisperofwonder · 3 days ago

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Domesticity (Evening Edition)

―Just some small, random evening moments.

Featuring: Bokuto Koutarou, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Akaashi Keiji x reader

Note: you have a daughter in Sakusa's

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

You skim the shelf for a few moments, then reach for a familiar looking package. It seems like every time you shop, there are more new varieties. It makes it difficult to keep track. "These are the ones you liked, right?" You ask, giving the box of protein bars a slight shake. There's no answer.

"Kou?" You look around, but your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. You bite back a sigh and toss the box in the cart anyway. If he can't stick around long enough to choose, he'll get what he gets. Pushing the cart along, you glance down the next few aisles. There's still no sign of him. Where would he have even wandered off to?

Just as you reach for your phone to send him a text, you feel a hand come to rest on the small of your back, and Koutarou is leaning around you to deposit something in the cart.

"Where did you go?" You ask with a frown as he sneaks his arms around you, slipping his hands into the front pocket of your oversized Jackals hoodie. "Koutarou," You add sternly as you can feel the warm press of his hands through the soft material. "We're in public."

Despite your warning, he doesn't make any move to pull away. "Just went to grab some apples," He says, hanging his chin over your shoulder. "You said this morning that we needed more, and I realized we were already past the produce, so I went back to get some."

You should really stand your ground and pull away, but you can't help it. There's no one around you to see the sudden closeness, and he was right about the apples. The warm press of his chest against your back is familiar and reassuring.

"Thanks for remembering," You say softly instead, reaching up to rest your hand on his cheek for a few moments.

"'Course," He nuzzles his other cheek against yours.

"Alright," You finally say, stepping away after savoring the moment for just a little while longer. You can hear the sound of another shopper's cart turning the corner. "Let's finish up so we can get home."

"And cuddle before bed?" He asks hopefully.

You can't help but smile. "I don't see why not."

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

You've just pulled out a onesie and are reaching for a clean diaper when you hear Kiyoomi enter the room behind you. You'd spent the last 15 minutes tidying up your daughter's room while he gave her a bath.

You turn with a smile to greet them, and a snort of laughter sneaks out before you can stop it. Your husband's t-shirt is soaked from the chest up, and there are water droplets slipping from his curls. Your daughter is babbling happily from beneath the hood of her ducky towel, oblivious to the less-than-pleased expression on her father's face.

"Oh, wow. Miyu one, Daddy zero, huh?" You ask, successfully holding back any further laughter.

"I don't think you can win bath time." He hands her over to you and mops a few drops of water from his cheek with the towel he'd slung around his neck. You lay her down and start putting on her diaper.

"Maybe not," You agree with a twitch of your lips, "But from the looks of it, you can certainly lose." He opens his mouth, then closes it with a shake of his head.

"Well, she had fun, anyway." He finally says, the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Right?" He asks, expression softening as he leans over to give her pudgy cheek a gentle pinch. She grins up at him, showing off her two and a half teeth, and he rests his hand on the top of her still-damp, downy curls.

"You're such a little stinker," He adds in the softest tone, never mind your heart that already feels fit to burst. You snap the last button on the onesie, picking her up and pressing a kiss to her irresistibly soft, freshly-washed cheek. Between the warm bath and the evident fun she'd had playing in it, she's already half asleep.

"Someone's ready for bed," You croon, then turn to him. "Go ahead and get changed. I'll put her down and be right out."

"Okay," He hums, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Goodnight, sweetheart," He murmurs, "I love you so much." He turns his head just enough to give you a tender kiss before he pulls away. "I love you," He adds.

"I love you too," You say softly, taking just a moment to run a hand affectionately through his damp hair before turning to put your daughter to bed.

AKAASHI KEIJI

"My love," you're woken by a soft whisper and the gentle squeeze of a hand on your thigh. "We're home."

Blearily, you turn to see Keiji in the driver's seat, and realize the car is parked in the driveway. That's funny - the last thing you knew, you were just pulling onto the highway. He's looking at you so intently that you almost feel the need to duck your head.

"Sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep," You eke out, rubbing your eyes in an effort to wake yourself up.

"It was a long day," He hums, the hand still resting on your thigh giving it another gentle squeeze. "So let's get inside and get to bed." It doesn't take much more prompting for you to follow him into the house.

You fight the warm sleepiness pulling at you long enough to change into your pajamas and brush your teeth, finally reaching for the covers when Keiji stops you. "Did you wash your face?" He asks, and you groan.

"I'll do it in the morning," You promise, turning down the covers.

"Come on," He says, reaching for your hand and gently guiding you back into the bathroom. "You'll feel better if you do it now. Here," He pats the closed toilet lid, and you obediently sink down onto it as he puts some of your cleanser on a cotton pad. His fingertips tilt your chin upwards, and you let your eyes slide closed as he begins swiping the soft pad across your face.

"Don't fall asleep," You hear him prompt as he works. You manage a hum to assure him that you won't, as relaxing as this is. Finally, you feel the press of lips on your forehead.

"All done," He says, and you open your eyes. The look on his face is so warm and gentle that something bubbles up in your chest.

"Thanks, Keiji," You say, tugging on his t-shirt until his lips meet yours. "Love you," You add against his lips.

"I love you too," He cups your cheek briefly with a soft smile. "Now, weren't you the one who was so eager to get to bed?"

You haven't forgotten. In mere moments, you're snuggled up against his chest under the covers. There's no place else you'd rather be.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #moon writes

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megwritesriddles · 1 month ago

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Side Effects ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 6 - Wet Dream. Mike tries a new sleep medication and finds it has some odd but pleasant side effects. Soon, Reader will find out too, for better or for worse.

Tags: Wet dreams, Fantasising, P in V, Couch sex, Masturbation (mentioned), Praise kink (implied), Neediness, Sub!Mike, Medical inaccuracies, Use of medication, Embarrassment, Reader is Abby's babysitter (cliché, i know), Way too much backstory for no reason (it's my curse), Set before the movie.

Word count: 3.7k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: I'm not kidding this was supposed to be a blurb because I had a busy day but it turned into this monster because I'm cursed with the inability to jump straight into smut without needless backstory!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

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Mike was trying out a new brand of sleeping pills. His doctor had some health concerns regarding the dosage he was taking of his previous pills. Mike had tried to dissuade her from worrying, insisting everything was fine and he was keeping healthy, but she had insisted he try out a new medication, with much fewer significant negative side effects. Mike had tried to protest but had shut his mouth fast when she brought up his role as the sole guardian of a minor. For Abby’s sake, she said, he shouldn’t be putting himself at risk of heart issues, even if the risk was relatively slight. Mike found himself having to agree that the idea of leaving Abby alone in this world was a terrible one.

He’d picked up the pills from the pharmacy the next day. The packaging was much the same as the last ones, only with a different name. The pills themselves were smaller, and circular rather than cylindrical. He was sceptical, given the dose was smaller per pill, but he had to give it a try anyway. He decided not to do his usual nightly routine, opting to leave the nature sounds for later, just wanting to see how well he slept with these pills. He lay on his side, pointedly ignoring his ‘Nebraska’ poster, waiting for the pills to kick in. He woke up with a start in the morning, incredibly grateful for this decision. He’d had a wet dream, a vivid one. He hadn’t had one in years, hadn’t let himself, and he couldn’t help but laugh at himself, feeling like a teenager again. He’s flushed and breathing heavily, feeling a sticky mess in his boxers. Rubbing a hand over his face, he headed for the bathroom. He discarded his sticky boxers in the hamper and climbed into the shower to wash himself off. Under the hot spray of water, he allowed his mind to wander back to what he remembered of his dream. You, bent over the edge of his bed, telling him how well he filled you up. He felt his skin flush again, his limp cock stirring slightly to attention at the memory. He shook his head, droplets of water spraying against the shower wall, he could not think of this right now. He forced his mind to stay on clean topics, feeling, with relief, that he softened up again. He’d known he was attracted to you, ever since you’d started babysitting Abby, you were just so gorgeous, with your sweet smiles and caring demeanour. Only, he’d never allowed himself to really think about you like that, other than the occasional fleeting thought. Once out of the shower, he’d checked over the pill bottle closely, finding what he was looking for. “Nocturnal emissions", “increased libido” and “vivid dreams,” were listed as a side effects. Go figure.

That entire day at work his mind kept returning to the fantasy, ashamed at how much he’d liked it. It seemed that thoughts like this about you had been a long time coming, as once the floodgates opened, they didn’t close. Almost every surface he saw at work today, he imagined taking you on. The thoughts were so inescapable that he was forced to quietly and shamefully relieve himself in the employee bathroom. He felt guilty for thinking of you like this, you were so sweet and generous, always giving your time to watch Abby, even for the very low pay he offered, you didn’t deserve to be eroticised like this by his traitorous brain. But, there was no helping it. He’d tried his best to act natural when he’d returned from work, finding you and Abby playing together on the living room floor. If you’d noticed him acting odd, you’d been too kind to mention. The next few days were a tortuous cycle, dreaming of you all night, thinking of whatever his brain had conjured all day. Then having to act normal when he gets home from work to find you in his living room, in various comfortable outfits, smiling in that beautiful way that you do. Things got a little easier, at least concerning you, when Abby returned to school, meaning you didn’t have to watch her all day. He still saw you every Saturday, since he had to work, but at least it was only once a week now. He continued seeing you every night in his dreams. He debated trying to return to his old sleeping pills, which didn’t have these pesky side effects but found himself oddly enjoying the newfound freedom of spending his nights thinking of such pleasant and frivolous things. As agonising as it was to see you and act normal, he felt overall lighter without reliving what happened with his brother every night. He had also started masturbating more, which seemed to relieve a decent deal of tension for him. Among all the other frustrations in his life, he hadn’t realised he’d also been frustrated sexually, although, this much should have been obvious from his complete lack of action for years now. He remained on his new pills, enjoying the benefits they brought, taking the good with the bad.

You’d asked Mike on Saturday if you could come over the following Tuesday while your apartment was fumigated. He’d grunted a tired, noncommittal agreement. You’d asked again at the door, and he’d done the same. You got the pesky feeling he wasn’t listening to you but you’d done what you could. You figured it shouldn’t be an issue, as Mike got Tuesdays off in exchange for working Saturdays, so you wouldn’t be sat in his house alone all day. You knew Mike tended to go back to sleep after taking Abby to school on his days off, so you prepared yourself to have to let yourself in with the key under the plant pot. You’d mentioned this to Mike too and he’d just mumbled an ‘okay’.

So here you were, crouching to retrieve the key from under the plant pot and letting yourself in. The bungalow was still and dark, you flick the light on in the hall, kicking off your shoes and making your way to the couch. You figure that Mike is simply asleep, so you settle in, going to dig in your bag for the book you brought with you. A noise from Mike’s bedroom startles you a little, you look up toward his door curiously. It had almost sounded like your name. Why? Was he calling you in there? It seemed like an unlikely thing for him to do, but your anxious mind conjures images of him injured in there, calling weakly out for help. He had sounded a little choked. You place your book on the coffee table and make your way over. You hear another small noise as you approach, like a moan, which concerns you more. You open the door, only to find him asleep on the bed in the dark. You stand confused in the doorway, gently gripping the doorknob. You were sure you heard your name, but he looks fast asleep, even as his body shifts in an odd way like it’s arching upward. Just as you’re about to leave, you hear it again, your name choked out from between his lips. You turn to look at him, noticing his body moving, almost like his hips are thrusting upward and–. Oh my God, you think in shock, he’s hard. Thoughts buzz around in your mind, connecting the dots way too slowly. When you grasp what’s going on, you quickly leave the room, shutting the door gently behind you so as not to wake him and leaning your back against it. Your mind whirs, another broken whimper of your name being heard from behind the door. You rush back to the couch, sitting down and taking a deep breath. You try to come up with an explanation for what could be happening that isn’t the obvious because the obvious answer is too… complicated. You run a hand over your hair. Could it have been a nightmare? Why would he have been hard… and thrusting like that? He had mentioned his new sleeping pills having some odd side effects which he’d point blank refused to elaborate on, other than that they were fine. Could this have been it? You try your best to return to your reading, but your mind won’t stop wandering. You vow to never mention this to anyone, especially not to Mike, not wishing to humiliate either of you. Your cheeks burn as you reread the same paragraph over and over, unable to retain anything but the memory of his whimpers of your name.

About an hour later, you’re feeling much less overheated but still struggling to focus. You hear a door open down the hall and soft footsteps. Mike. You notice, as he rubs his eyes, that he’s coming toward you shirtless… with a large wet patch on his grey boxers. You quickly look up at his face, just in time for him to lower his hand and spot you there, his eyes widening. You’re shocked by how fast he moves, darting into the bathroom and slamming the door shut in an instant. Quiet descends over the house again for a moment.

“Why are you here?” he screeches through the door, the mortification more than evident in the shake of his voice. You try to play it cool as if nothing is wrong, hoping you can convince him you didn’t see anything to spare you both the embarrassment.

“I told you I was coming, my apartment is being fumigated, remember?” you call back. You hear a thud, Mike thumping against the door in annoyance. “Am I not allowed to be here?” trying to channel your usual easygoing playfulness. He sighs loudly, rubbing at his forehead.

“Of course, you’re allowed here, you always are, okay?” he expresses quietly, uncomfortably sincere for the situation. There’s another loud silence. “Did you… see?” his voice breaks slightly. You continue to pretend all is well.

“What? Mike, I’ve seen you shirtless before,” you laugh, a little too loudly, hoping he believes you. Another silence. “Nothing to be ashamed of… you look… uh… good,” you falter, not knowing why you just said that. It’s true though, he keeps himself in shape, channelling his energy to building his strength, and it shows, pleasantly so. Mike can’t quite believe what he’s hearing you say, coughing slightly, his cock already stirring from just a simple comment on his fitness.

“Yeah?” he swallows, unable to keep the slightly needy edge out of his voice, praying you don’t notice. He doesn’t wait for your answer, snapping to his senses. “I’m going for a shower,” he squeaks through the door. He scrambles for the shower, turning on the water as a signal to you that he’s no longer talking. He discards his sticky boxers like normal, stepping into the warming shower before burying his head in his hands and letting out a frustrated howl. He doesn’t know if you can hear him, but he doesn’t care, nothing could be more embarrassing than what had just happened. You sit in the living room, staring at the bathroom door and listening to the drumming of the water from the shower. You’re not sure how to proceed, especially after hearing his tone of voice after you’d complimented him. You keep going back to the way he’d whimpered your name in his sleep, hard and thrusting and then emerged with a stain on his boxers, that suggested only one end to the dream. Was he into you? Was this just some weird fluke due to his sleeping pills? You become so engrossed in your thoughts that you have no time to mentally prepare for him to appear from the bathroom. He looks more sheepish than you’ve ever seen him in your life, a towel wrapped around his lower half, his torso dripping water attractively. You stare at each other for a while, like he’s waiting for you to start chastising him. Instead, you decide to try to test whether his dream was a fluke.

“Hey,” you smile in a subtle flirtatious way. You play with your hair, twirling an end of it slightly. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“Hey,” he repeats shyly. You give an obvious glance down at his bare chest and arms, before returning your eyes to his, smiling and biting your lip. He blinks furiously. “I’m going to go change,” he stutters, rushing off for his bedroom. You purse your lips as you watch after him, not sure if you’ve flustered him in a good or bad way. He returns a little while later, coming to sit on the couch with you, but as far from you as he can possibly get. You notice with a smile that he’s blushing.

“You were sleeping when I got here,” you start, as casual as can be, and he looks impossibly tense. You lean your arm on the back of the couch and then rest your chin on it, smiling over at him. He avoids your eye. “Dream anything nice?” His head whips around to look at you, trying to figure you out. He doesn’t know you’d walked in while he was sleeping.

“Did you–?” he starts but quickly stops himself. He can’t ask if you saw the stain, if you really were just asking an innocuous question, he would completely humiliate himself. You just blink back innocently. He scrutinises you for a little longer. The possibility crosses his mind that you’re a mind reader, and you’re trying to punish him for his thoughts. You reach over, trailing your fingertips over his arm, watching as goosebumps bloom.

“Have we ever been alone together before? Without Abby in the house?” you whisper with a teasing smile. He goes bright red, breathing shakily. You’re flirting with him, you have to be. Why? He looks at you nervously.

“Not sure,” he mumbles. You move closer and his heart pounds faster.

“I only asked about your dream because, well… I heard my name,” you trace a circle on his bicep, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt. He feels momentarily lightheaded when you say this. The unspoken understanding passes between you that you must know more than this, but you’re sparing him the details. He sighs shakily. His shy reactions make you feel oddly confident, you come closer, resting your hand on the arm of the couch, effectively boxing him in, your faces close together. He looks terrified, but he’s incredibly aroused. “Was I on top of you?” you purr, unsure where all this confidence has come from. His eyes shut and he breathes shakily, for a moment he thinks he’s about to faint.

“God…” he wonders again if you’re a mind reader. He opens his eyes and your face is right there, beautiful and seductive and he decides in that moment that you could know anything about him, even the most humiliating things, if it kept you this close. It’s not clear who leans in first, but suddenly the two of you are kissing, desperately. Your lips move with fervour and he moans into the kiss. He hasn’t been kissed in so long and it’s you, the object of all his fantasies. You clamber into his lap to straddle him and he accepts you eagerly, his arms wrapping around your middle tight, gripping at your skin through the fabric of your sweatshirt. Your tongue licks into his mouth and he moans again, each sound he makes going through to your core like lightning. He’s rock-hard under you and the thought makes you smug.

“You didn’t answer the question, was I on top of you?” you demand into the kiss, your hands coming to cup his neck.

“Yes, God yes, you were– ah– riding me,” he pants against your lips, all shame gone now that he has you here. He doesn’t care what he has to say, he just needs you. You hum an acknowledgement, pressing yourself down in his lap, slowly dragging yourself back and forth. He whines desperately, his hips bucking to meet you. You giggle at his desperation and he just whines again, embarrassed but knowing he deserves it. You continue to kiss him feverishly, the kiss becoming sloppier with need. You grind down on him, providing teasing friction, enjoying the way he grips at you tighter, trying to silently beg for more. You disconnect from the kiss and he laments, trying to follow you. You gently push him back by the chest and he looks up at you wide-eyed, lips pink and glossy from kissing. You grin, winking, reaching down and pulling your sweatshirt up and over your head. He groans at the sight of you, hands sliding up your back to pull you back in. He looks up at you, his eyes full of wonder and need, placing gentle kisses along your cleavage. You hum softly, enjoying the soft presses. His fingers splay against your back, tracing just under the clasp on your bra, it’s a question and you nod an answer. He fumbles with the clasp for a moment and he smiles up at you shyly. You chuckle. He manages to free you of the garment, slowly slipping the straps down your shoulders and pulling it away from you. He swallows, lowering his lips to mouth at the swell of your breasts. You feel his hardness twitching under you and you give a soft roll of your hips in return. He groans against your skin. You lean your head back, eyes fluttering blissfully as he showers you with insistent affections. His hands on your back hold you close, making sure you can’t slip away from him like every other version of you has by the morning. You toy with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His tongue traces a path between your breasts.

“Want your cock already,” you purr. You say it just to watch him go crazy, his whole body shivering, eyes falling closer, a small moan escaping his mouth.

“Y-yeah,” he murmurs. You push him back again, enjoying the sweet vulnerable way he looks up at you. You tug his t-shirt over his head, spending a moment caressing at his chest. He’s flushed, muscles tensing as your touch passes over him. Then, you shuffle back a little, just enough to tug at the strings of his sweatpants. His cock twitches eagerly as he watches you do this. You can’t help but giggle slightly and he looks up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m a bit excited,”

“I can tell honey,” you tease. He takes a deep breath and, holding you tight so you don’t fall, lifts his hips so you can wriggle his sweatpants down, along with his boxers. He’s leaking pre-cum, standing at full attention, flushed and needy. You peck his lips as assurance, sensing he’s feeling insecure about something, though you spot nothing to feel that way about. You rise onto your feet, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you like letting you any further would be unbearable. You kick off your leggings and underwear. He gasps at the sight of you, hands sliding down to your thighs as you settle back into his lap. You sit right on his cock, feeling it twitch eagerly under you, another bead of pre-cum rolling free. Mike pants needily, watching as your bare core slides against his length for a moment, making a sticky mess in his lap. He whines, gripping at your waist. You show mercy on him (and yourself), lifting up just enough to align his tip with your entrance. He whimpers in desperation.

“Please, please,” he begs. You lean down to kiss his cheeks soothingly, sinking down onto him. He gasps loudly, his grip tightening on you. His eyes glaze over as you sit motionless in his lap, accommodating yourself to him. He whines softly, hands sliding up and down your body with need. “Please,” he sobs. “I need you to move, please,” you smile, tutting playfully but lifting yourself up slowly. His eyes squeeze shut. “Nngh– so amazing,” you bring your hips down, feeling him dragging against your walls, making you moan. You brace yourself on his shoulders, sliding up and down a few more times. Mike already looks completely gone, staring dreamily at your breasts as they softly bounce, hands exploring your hips and waist, letting out unashamed moans. You remember his dream and lift yourself.

“Fuck me,” you command. He’s confused for a moment, sobbing softly at the cessation of movement, before realising what you want him to do. He’s happy to oblige. He takes hold of your hips and starts to thrust shakily up into you. You let out a surprised gasp as he hits a perfect spot, moaning and dropping your head onto his shoulder. He kisses at your neck as best he can, thrusting up into you with pure desperation. He pounds against you sloppily, whimpering desperately, your moans in his ear only egging him on. He gets off knowing you feel good, thrusting more intentionally against the spot you seem to love so much. He’s rewarded with a symphony of beautiful sounds that has him approaching his release at a rapid pace. “Fucking me so good, Mike,” you moan and he’s done for, the praise going right to his core. With two more harsh thrusts, he’s cumming, his whole body trembling with a whimper of your name. You start to move yourself again, even as he twitches and whines under you, desperate not to get left behind. He sobs shakily with pleasure as you chase your release. Luckily, it washes over you soon after, fireworks exploding behind your eyes. You grip his shoulders hard, your body shaking like his, your head tipped back as you wail his name in return. He watches you, enraptured by the sight of you like this, determined in this moment that he won’t let this be the last time he sees it, no matter what happens. You calm down, mercifully pulling off of him to give him some reprieve from all the sensations. He holds you there on his lap, rubbing your back softly as the two of you come back to earth. He’s blissful, not just from the sex, but from the fact he’s allowed to hold you, that your arms are wrapping around him in return. He kisses your cheek, and you let him and he’s in heaven.

“I guess dreams do come true,” he sighs with a lopsided grin. You look up at him incredulously.

“That’s the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard,”

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xoxoxo

#mike schmidt #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt fanfic #mike schimdt x you #mike schimdt smut #smut #fanfic #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #michael schmidt #x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf smut

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jrreigns · 3 months ago

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Mama’s Garden

It’s your birthday and your daughter wants to celebrate. Her father can do nothing but oblige.

A/N: My submission for Levi Month Day 21; Post-War: Children. ~1.3k words of pure angst.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers!

“Papa, do you think mama would like this?”

A single pebble. A shiny one at that. Levi gave it an expressionless glance and gave a firm nod.

“Mama would like anything you give her, Eden.”

Hardened eyes met soft bright ones, ones that broke out in innocent glee, ones that made Levi Ackerman’s heart swell. There was only one other person who had this effect on him.

You.

The little girl chucked the pebble into a worn pouch, along with other things she wanted to give you. It was your birthday today and Levi had been up early—partly by his own choice, the other because of the giddy toddler who had been preparing for this day for weeks. It had been hard to put Eden down to bed yesterday and the bags under Levi’s eyes were a testament to that.

The day was sunny and so Levi moved forward with his child’s plans, a picnic for mama. Stowed inside a basket were fruit—the ones you and Eden liked—some sandwiches she helped him make, and leftover stew from yesterday’s meal.

“Mama doesn’t like stew,” Eden huffed, wrinkling her nose.

“Mama doesn’t like it, or you don’t like it?”

Eden gave it a seemingly deep thought.

“Neither of us.”

Dinner time had been a struggle yesterday, too. She turned out to be as picky of an eater as her father.

It was less of a struggle now though, compared to a couple of years ago.

Right. Eden was almost five. How quickly the time has passed.

Time, Levi reflected with a pang, time that he wished he had more of.

“Papa,” a little girl with his features, but your eyes, called to him, “let’s pick flowers for mama.” He nodded before his thoughts could ensnare him again.

“This red one, and this blue one, and this pink one…”

It amazed Levi how much she’s grown. She used to be so small, would fit right into his hands like a dainty little package. Now, she counted to ten and back, knew colors, helped him water your garden. She already knew so many things—Levi sometimes found it hard to keep up.

“Mama, you’re going to like my bucket, I promise,” Eden whispered into one of the bell-shaped flowers, a habit she had ever since Levi had told her that you’d hear her if she spoke into them.

“It’s bouquet, Eden,” he corrected her gently and turning to head back to the house when she stopped him.

“Won’t we water the flowers today?”

Levi paused, a twinge of guilt tightening in his chest. So Eden has noticed; Levi has tried not to let the approaching date affect him, but your garden hasn’t been tended to in a week now. The weeds were beginning to creep in, some flowers were wilted and some of the bush was growing wildly in some places.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, his voice softening, “go get the watering can.”

Eden giggled with delight, small shoes pattering around the corner as Levi watched her disappear momentarily. The minutes felt long; a familiar worry settled in his bones, a worry he couldn’t quite shake when his daughter was out of sight.

Levi let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when Eden finally reappeared. Watering can in tow, they watered the garden together. Levi’s brows were furrowed in concentration, trying not to overwater like you’ve taught him before.

I’ll tend to this later, Levi silently promised as they left the small garden and headed back into the house. He watched as Eden said her goodbyes to each and every flower, exerting patience where there once was none.

With the small basket in tow and a giggling Eden following closely behind, Levi began the familiar trek to the fields to see you.

“Papa, how come you married mama?”

Your toddler exhibited such curiosity that could drive Levi mad at times, but nonetheless he ensured to give her the information she wanted.

“I loved your mama, so I married her.”

Words like love still felt foreign in the former captain’s mouth. Yet, with time, it was getting just a little easier to speak of it—to speak of you.

“So people marry for love?”

Not always.

Very rarely.

“Of course,” he answered, voice steady.

Soon, the cobblestone paths diverted into dirt walkways. The small patch of flowers that had been growing from the cracks of the stone brick now flowed wildly in this section of the road.

Past the willow tree and into the flower fields, alone and by a motionless lake, you were there.

This is where Levi let love in—where he let you in. This is where Levi proposed.

This is where you rested.

“Mama, happy birthday!” Eden exclaimed, her voice ringing out in the quiet air. She took a seat next to the familiar gravestone, pouch already open as she emptied out its contents on the patch of grass she sat on.

Levi watched her for a moment, the weight of the day finally pressing heavily on his heart. Finally, he set the basket down, hand brushing light over the cool stone.

“Here’s this pebble I found today. You can have it, I already have one like it in my room…”

Levi could feel his throat closing up as Eden continued speaking, explaining every single gift she’s brought and what it meant. The pebble, a pink bow she’d begged Levi to buy (a bow he thought was for her), a drawing of a big house and a family of three.

A family of three, Levi wished his family of two could be a family of three. So many nights he spent hoping you were alive somewhere, not just in his mind—those quiet hours when the house felt too empty, and the silence too heavy.

Emotion was getting harder to combat with age, but Levi tried with all his might to refrain from crying. No, today his daughter deserved a moment of happiness, even if you being gone was killing him inside. Even if being here was killing him inside.

But Levi couldn’t stop the tears even if he wanted to.

“Is papa crying?”

He quickly wiped them away with his sleeve.

“No, it’s water.”

“…There was water in papa’s eyes yesterday, too.”

Eden was just like you, always so annoyingly observant. Levi could feel his heart twist at her words.

The flowers swayed peacefully in this part of the field, their soft colors blending with the golden light of the afternoon. The wind blew against Levi’s hair, tickling his face as he watched Eden run and play. A small smile etched itself on his scarred face in this fleeting moment of calm.

When Eden finally tired, she helped her papa clean up and put everything back in the basket. The gifts would stay, except the drawing. Levi had to find a way to secretly take it back home.

“Can we come back soon,” Eden asked, a hint of sadness finally making its way through.

Levi gave a firm nod. “Of course.”

There was a silent pause, a moment of deliberation for the young girl.

“Papa, how come mama can’t be with us?”

She died at childbirth.

“She’s busy,” was Levi’s gruff response, before letting out a heavy sigh. “Mama’s taking care of us…from the sky.” Levi was weary of religion, but if it meant he could spare even a shred of innocence for his daughter for the time being, he’s taking it, no questions asked.

“Mama’s an angel?”

A silent pause.

“Yeah, sure kid.”

She grinned, curiosity quelled for a short minute, before another thought burst through her tiny mind.

“Will you also be an angel one day?”

Levi could feel his heart stop. He hoped so, if it meant he could see you one day. He missed you so much—he missed your smile, your laugh, your playful kisses despite his half-hearted protests. For a brief moment, he allowed himself the comfort of an afterlife with you.

“Yeah, one day,” he finally managed to say, his voice almost breaking.

Eden smiled, her small face lighting up with an innocence that tugged at Levi’s heart.

“Papa, I love you,” Eden says so suddenly, “Mama loves you, too.”

Levi’s breath hitches, a warmth spreading through his chest. His eyes soften, he breaks into a rare, tender smile, one that hadn’t come easily for years.

“I love the both of you, too.”

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader angst #levi ackerman #captain levi #post war levi #dad levi #dad!levi #post-war!levi #levi #levimonth24 #levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi angst

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pyramid-of-starrs · 9 months ago

Text

After care with Ateez ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Different styles of aftercare that I think the members would do.

This was just something cute I wrote since it's the day after valentines and Ateez is currently on vaction :P

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive

Warning: Mentions of sex and oral sex

Minors DNI

Hongjoong:

His roommates, Jongho and Wooyoung decided to go back home for their holiday so You and Hongjoong enjoyed some much-needed alone time. Cuddling on the couch and watching movies that eventually turned to making out then him pinning your legs to the arm of the couch, completely disregarding Wooyoungs nagging about no sex in the common areas. After a long overdue session Hongjoong is the water and a towel kind of guy. He gets up still wearing his sweatshirt and tucking his softened length back into his boxers then grabs you some water from the back of the fridge like you like. Then head to the bathroom to run hot water on a towel to give you (hot water so it’ll be warm when he gives it too you). Once he hands you the water you spread your legs and he immediately starts to clean the mess he made. After cleaning you up he wants to get back to the movie so you agree even though not even 5 minutes later he is fast asleep laying on your lap. That means no movie for you until he wakes back up and repeats the cycle, he's lucky he's cute

Seonghwa:

Seonghwa was in desperate need of some time away for the rest of his group. He loved his members, but he needed time, since his vacation period was here you invited him over to your place so he can get away for a few days. He, of course, thanks you the best way he knows how, with that marvelous long tongue he was gifted with. Slurping all your juices until you literally cover the entire bottom half of his face in your slick. Then you decided you needed more and went 2 rounds. You both were sticky from the love making and you were ready to go to bed but Seonghwa just can’t do messes, he'll go insane. He immediately headed to the bathroom to run a bath for you two, no shower because he knew your legs would be tired. Despite your groaning to be left alone he would pick you up and carry you over to the bathtub, easing you into the soothing warm water. Even though you were tired you had to admit this felt good. He helps bathe you, then shower you off, he wouldn’t try to fuck you again unless you wanted, just cover you in kisses and tell you you did so good for him.

Yunho:

You both were cuddling on his bed watching TikTok’s together, he leans over to show you one then a text from Yeosang popped up. Him saying that he was leaving to visit his friend and would be back in a few days so don’t wait up. Yunho gave you a very specific look and you knew what that meant, kissing leading to him drilling you from the back with his larger than average dick. He knows he’s a big guy with a big package so most the time he knew you wouldn’t be capable of moving much afterward. So his aftercare came in the form of him massaging your sore thighs and limbs. He likes to see you smiling afterward so he would make little jokes and tease you about the faces you would make during sex.

"Your face is so cute when you ask me why I'm fucking you like that." You both laugh as you playfully hit him. You just lie there making jokes and enjoying the massage from your human golden retriever.

Yeosang:

He decieded to take you on vacation with him since you both needed a some time with each other alone. Warm weather, nice beaches, good food and no fans or press bothering you on a small secluded island, it was amazing, you had to thank him. As soon as you made it back to the rented cabin you drug him back to huge master bedroom to show him just how grateful you are. In the end though he ended up flipping you like a pancake and reminding you just how strong he is. When you were done you were completely drained, covered in sweat and defeated. He came back from the kitchen with a bottle of water and you immediately reached for it but he told you to hold on. You watched him in confusion as he pulled a drink powder from his bag and put some in the bottle. He shook it up and you watched the water turn blue then he handed it to you to drink.

"That will replinish your electrolytes." He said with such a cute smile, then walked back to his bag to get a bottle of vitamins and you started to drink your water. "Here stick your tongue out." You obeyed and he placed two pills on your tongue. "That's B12, you got a charley horse when I bent your leg to far back so that will help, I'll buy you more when we get home, I told you to start taking your vitamins!" He said while starting to stretch your legs out to relieve the tension. He would talk to you about stretching and eating more fruit and blah blah but you wouldn't have it any other way.

San:

San's parents loooove you so they tell him to not even bother coming home during the break if you aren't with him, so you agree to come with. You loved the girl time you got with San's mom, his older sister and his younger sister, Byeol the cat, anyways. You and him arrived a day early and San's parents aren't back from their day trip till tomorrow, so he decided to take you to all his favorite spots around town then he took you out to dinner. Once you're back at his parents you do your normal nightly routine, then head to bed in his childhood bedroom. You tease him after you find an old swimsuit magazine in his room and he turns red and tries to wrestle it from you, leading to him pinning you down. He pecks you on your lips once he's got you down and it went downhill from there. Sure there is a small ting of guilt for doing this at his parents' house in the back of your mind, but you couldn't really focus with San pounding into you. After a nice and long session, you like to just lay back and relax meanwhile San wants to live in your skin. He would cuddle into your chest and wrap his arms around your waist, you scratch his scalp like he's a cat while he draws circles on your thighs. San's aftercare is alot of affection and love bombing.

"I love you."

Kiss on your stomach.

"You're so beautiful."

Kiss on your neck.

"You're the only one for me."

Kiss on your lips.

Mingi:

Now that Mingi finally had some alone time in his apartment with Seonghwa and San gone he decided to stay home and finally get some work done. You didn't want to get in the way but after a few days you surprised him with some lunch. After you ate, you were going to leave but he insisted that you stay and listen to the song he's been working on, you mentioned not wanting to be a bother and he let you know you're more like a muse. You headed to his room where his equipment is set up and sat on his bed to watch him continue to work. For some reason watching Mingi work on his music was so sexy, seeing the effort and passion he put in made you feel hot. Before you could think more about it, he invited you into his lap to listen with him, not even 5 minutes into sitting and listening the sexual tension became so thick you both couldn't resist anymore. Mingi dropped you on the bed to show you he was feeling the same way you were. You wanted to really show him how much you appreciated his hard work flipping on top of him and letting him feel every inch of you. After taking up a good chunk of his time you decided to try to get dressed to let him get back to work, but Mingi likes to spend quality time as after care.

"Woah where are you going?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm going home so that you can get back to work."

"What? No come back here so we can finally get caught up on jjk."

"I told you to finish without me."

"Why would I do that? Just come cuddle me so we can watch."

Wooyoung:

You and Woo went on a nice trip in the mountains, beautiful views and blue waters. He brought his camera to record for his fans and take pictures, the camera stayed in his hand the whole trip. Even when it probably shouldn't have. He was recording every inch of you when you two got back to the bedroom, making sure to get the nice angles of your body while ravishing you in different positions. When you were finally done you took the camera from him, you had to admit curiosity took over and you decided to watch the whole thing in awe. Is that really how you sound? When did you get that flexible? Thank God you shaved. While you were distracted watching the tape you two just made Wooyoung walked back in the room with juice pouches and a plate with two hot grilled cheeses, cut diagonally of course.

"Stop being a perv and eat." he hands you one of the juice pouches as he gets back under the covers with you and places the plate on the bed. You gladly enjoy the dinner and a movie and Wooyoung just loves watching you eat and enjoy something he made, both the video and the food, grilled cheese or not food is good aftercare.

Jongho:

Jongho invited you to a ski resort with his other friends, even though you didn't know a thing about skiing or snowboarding. You liked seeing him happy and active after his injury. After a long day of falling on your ass you decided that was enough torture and headed back to the suite first, letting Jongho spend more time with his friends. You took a hot bath and laid in bed to enjoy the soft sheets, falling into sleep without noticing. A few hours later you could feel the bed dip and Jongho's warm embrace, you asked him if he enjoyed his time in the snow and he said yes and thanked you for coming, giving you a nice kiss. It had been quite some time since you and Jongho went all the way, always scared of hurting him but you couldn't let the good mood go to waste and made the first move to climb on top of him. You two take a shower when your done and Jongho doesn't like to show it, but he too is very affectionate after. He holds your hang in the shower and puts you in a full-on bear hug when you're back in the bed cuddling. It's not just during night either, when it's morning and time to meet with your friends for breakfast he won't let you go.

"We have to get ready Jongho or we will be late."

"We'll get room service." He groans.

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wolverigrl · 1 month ago

Note

Logan x reader. Logan takes care of his girl having the flu. You know pure fluff, the whole package

Fevered Nights

Logan Howlett x f!reader

A/N: So I tried writing Logan true to character but still having some fluff in it! I hope you like it! <33

Warnings: none

Enjoy!

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The air in the Xavier mansion was always filled with some form of chaos - students running through the hallways, missions being planned in the lower levels, or just the general buzz of mutant life.

Today, though, none of that mattered to me. The only thing I could focus on was the throbbing ache in my head and the thick fog that clouded my senses. I groaned, turning over in bed for what felt like the hundredth time, my nose completely stuffed up and my body feeling like it had been through a war zone.

"Hey, you alive?" a gruff voice cut through the muffled sound of my own misery.

I cracked an eye open and saw Logan standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his usual scowl firmly in place. Even though I felt like garbage, I couldn’t help but smile weakly.

"Barely.." I croaked, my throat raw.

"Yeah, figured. You sound like death warmed over." He stalked into the room, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but I could tell he was concerned. Logan didn’t do well with expressing it, but I could always read him, even when he tried to play it cool.

I let out a miserable sigh, sinking deeper into the mound of pillows behind me.

"I’m fine, Logan. Just a flu. You don’t have to hover."

"I’m not hoverin’." he shot back immediately, grabbing the chair by the desk and pulling it closer to the bed. "Just makin' sure you don’t cough up a lung or somethin’. Charles would have my head if I let you die on his watch."

I rolled my eyes - well, as much as I could manage with the pounding headache. "Right. Blame Charles."

He grunted, his eyes softening for a brief moment as he leaned in, placing a rough but gentle hand on my forehead. His touch was cooler than my fevered skin, and I closed my eyes, leaning into it slightly.

"You're burnin’ up, darlin'. When’s the last time you took somethin’ for it?"

I opened one eye to give him a half-hearted glare.

"I dunno. I’ve been too busy feeling like death to keep track."

Logan sighed, standing up and muttering something under his breath that I couldn’t quite catch. A second later, he disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the sound of rummaging through the medicine cabinet. It was weird seeing him in caretaker mode.

Usually, it was me who worried about him - after missions, when he'd come back covered in blood (usually not his own) and grumbling about healing too slowly. But here he was, playing nurse, and I wasn’t about to complain.

A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of water and some medicine in hand. He sat back down, holding them out for me and staring at me with that sharp gaze, arms crossed like he was trying to figure out how to fix me just by looking.

I groaned, feeling the pressure in my head pound relentlessly.

"Here." he said, holding the pills out for me. "Take these."

I eyed them skeptically, leaning away.

"How do you even know what I need? You never get sick."

Logan’s lips twitched, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Maybe not, but I’ve had to take care of enough people to know how to knock a flu down." His eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned in closer, voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone.

"Unless you want me to pin you down and push ‘em down your throat for you?"

His words sent a spark through me, momentarily distracting me from how miserable I felt. I knew he was teasing, but there was that unmistakable edge in his voice - the one that always made my heart race, no matter how bad I felt. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying not to show the way my body responded.

"You wouldn’t dare." I muttered, but my voice wavered slightly, betraying me.

He let out a low chuckle, leaning in even closer. "You really wanna test that theory, darlin’?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the heat of his presence despite the fever already burning through me. Logan was all rough edges and danger, but when it came to me, he had this way of softening - and I knew how much he enjoyed pushing my buttons. Even now, with me feeling like death, he couldn’t resist.

"Fine, fine.." I grumbled, snatching the pills out of his hand and popping them into my mouth. "Happy now?"

He leaned back in the chair, a satisfied smirk playing at his lips.

"There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

I gulped down the water, glaring at him over the rim of the glass.

"You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to fight you right now."

Logan’s grin widened as he shifted, the chair creaking under his weight.

"Well, when you do, I’ll be waitin’. But right now, you’re stuck with me."

Before I could muster a retort, Logan stood and moved closer to the bed, sitting on the edge of it this time. His large hand came up to my face, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair away from my forehead with a gentleness that always caught me off guard. Despite his tough exterior, Logan had a way of being soft when it mattered - when it was just the two of us.

"Gotta admit.." he murmured, his voice softer now as his fingers lingered against my skin, "I don’t mind takin’ care of you like this."

His thumb brushed along my temple, the roughness of his skin a soothing contrast to the fever burning through me.

My breath caught slightly at the sensation, but I tried to play it off with a weak chuckle.

"I’m pretty sure taking care of a sick person is low on your list of fun things to do."

Logan shook his head, his expression serious now. "You’d be surprised." His eyes locked with mine, that intensity making my pulse quicken again despite the exhaustion weighing me down.

"I don’t mind takin’ care of someone I care about, y/n. Not one bit."

I opened my mouth to say something, but the words caught in my throat. Logan wasn’t one for sentimental talk, and hearing him say it, especially in his gruff way, hit me harder than I expected.

He must’ve noticed the look on my face because he smirked again, a more teasing edge returning to his voice. "And besides.." he added, leaning in closer, "this way I get to see you all helpless. It’s kinda cute."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I’m sure me being a sweaty, sick mess is just what you’ve always wanted."

His eyes glinted with something deeper, and his hand trailed down to my cheek, the touch sending warmth through me. "You could be a mess all you want, darlin’. Still wouldn’t change a damn thing."

Before I could react, Logan pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, frowning. "You’re still burnin’ up." He stood, moving with that easy grace of his, heading toward the bathroom. I watched him, confused.

"Logan, where are you going?"

He didn’t answer right away, but I heard the clinking of bottles and rustling of tissues from the cabinet. When he returned, he had a cold washcloth in one hand and a box of tissues in the other.

"Gonna cool you down a bit." he muttered, as though he was embarrassed by the whole thing.

He sat back on the edge of the bed, gently pressing the cold cloth to my forehead. The relief was immediate, and I let out a small sigh as the coolness soothed my fevered skin. Logan’s fingers brushed over my temple again, his touch lingering longer than necessary, and for a moment, it was easy to forget the miserable state I was in.

"Logan…" I started, but my voice caught in my throat. He didn’t say anything, just gave me that intense look, his thumb stroking over my cheek softly before he handed me the tissues.

"Blow your nose, will ya? I ain’t dealin’ with the sound of you sniffling all night."

Despite the gruffness of his words, there was something affectionate in the way he handed me the tissues, watching me as I clumsily wiped my nose. I chuckled, weakly. "Sooo romantic!"

He raised an eyebrow, that smirk tugging at the corner of his lips again. "Just wait 'til you're better. I'll show you romance."

I shot him a half-hearted glare, tossing the tissue into the bin beside the bed.

"I'll hold you to that."

Logan leaned back again, watching me carefully. His eyes softened as he adjusted the cold cloth on my forehead, his hand lingering there a moment longer before he pulled back. "Don’t get used to this." he muttered, though I could hear the smile in his voice. "Just ‘cause you’re sick doesn’t mean I’m goin’ soft."

I snorted, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. Logan’s hand was immediately at my back, rubbing small circles as I struggled to catch my breath. Once the coughing subsided, I leaned back against the pillows, exhausted.

"You don’t have to stay, you know." I rasped. "Go do something else. Beat up Scott or... I don’t know, something that doesn’t involve you watching me die of the flu."

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes flicking toward the door for a moment before returning to me.

"I’m not goin’ anywhere. You know that." He adjusted the washcloth on my forehead again, his fingers brushing through my hair.

"Besides, Scott can wait. You’re the one who needs me right now."

I looked up at him, too tired to argue, but the warmth in his voice made me feel just a little bit better. Logan was rough around the edges, but when it came to me, he always found a way to show how much he cared - even if it was in his own gruff, teasing way.

As I started to drift off again, I heard the door creak open, and a familiar voice filled the room.

"How’s she holding up?" It was Jean, peeking her head in.

"Better now that I got some medicine in her." Logan replied, his gruff tone softening ever so slightly.

Jean walked over, her expression warm as she checked my pulse with a quick touch of her hand.

"You're in good hands. Logan doesn’t let anyone he cares about suffer for too long."

I snorted at that, my voice raspy. "Yeah, he's a real softie."

Logan shot me a look, but there was no real anger behind it. "Watch it, darlin'."

Jean smiled, giving me a reassuring nod before heading back out.

"I'll check in later, Logan. Let me know if you need anything."

Once Jean left, Logan’s eyes were back on me. "Jean’s right, you know.." I murmured, my voice fading as I sank deeper into the bed. "You're not as tough as you pretend to be."

He grunted, leaning back in the chair. "Don’t push you're luck."

I smiled weakly, already feeling the effects of the medicine pulling me under. Even though I was sick, exhausted, and completely out of it, knowing Logan was there - grumpy attitude and all - made it a little easier to rest.

Before sleep took me, I heard him mutter, so low I almost missed it.

"I ain’t goin’ anywhere, y/n. Not ever leavin' you alone."

And with that, I finally let go, knowing Logan had my back, like he always did.

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Tags: @angelofthorr @haytchee

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glow-worms-are-believers · 2 years ago

Text

Return to sender (dc x dp)

There was a box set right in front of his door. That was already pretty unusual, since Danny had just moved in, and and gotten done with boxes and he knew he hadn't had anything delivered here.

"Let's get you inside," Danny muttered as he got his key out of his pocket.

Unlocking the door, he picked it up and made his way in. He set the box down on the small kitchen table before grabbing a knife from the cabinet. He sat down and set to cutting the tape along the opening.

Peeling back the flaps, he took a peek at the contents only to be faced with a mound of yellow and black sparkly tissue paper, with a letter on top.

"What do we have here?" he muttered to himself, as he took the envelope out of the box.

Ripping it open, he got a small greeting card out. It had a yellow smiley face on it with the word "Smile!" printed above it. He flipped it open, and his eyes fixed on the printed text that said "Because today is your day!" Underneath it, written in chicken-scratch was written the following: "Looks like the bat has a new signal. At least mommy and daddy won't know how fast you replaced them!" it was signed with a simple J and yet another smiley face.

Danny frowned. "Weird."

Then, he peeled back the paper to find a taxidermied yellow-and-black bird Danny couldn't recognize, with its wings broken.

"This is definitely not mine," Danny said as he looked at the bird. Hopefully the real owner of this wasn't going to be too disappointed it had been this damaged in transit.

Danny took up the box to look at the delivery address, only to find that while this was for his apartment, the name of the receiver was marked as "Duke Marlon Thomas". It took one quick google search to find a phone number. Danny thanked whoever the sender was for including a middle name as it narrowed the search greatly. Dialling the number, Danny got up to get himself a glass of water. As he got the glass out, the line connected.

"Hello?" he heard a surprisingly young voice say. Well, assuming apparently made an ass of Danny. Maybe taxidermy really did appeal to all ages.

"Hi, my name's Danny. I think I got your package by accident."

"My package?" The guy on the other side asked, perplexdely.

"Yeah, a big box with a bird in it?" Danny answered. "Listen, man I'm sorry, I think the wings broke during transit, I swear it was already like that when I opened it-"

"What bird?" Now the guy sounded even more confused.

Well now, Danny was starting to get confused. "A taxidermied black-and-yellow bird?" Danny sounded out, then he grabbed the note and let his eyes go over it again. "There was a note too, I opened it, sorry about that." Danny winced, before trying for a joke to hopefully get the guy to soften up on him. "Whoever that J- friend is, he's got a weird sense of humour."

"J- friend?" the voice on the other side of the phone said. Guess, the joke hadn't gone over well, because his voice had gone tense.

"Yeah," Danny answered withholding a sigh, damn his curiosity. Opening other people' letters was not only a gross invasion of privacy but also a federal crime. Hopefully the guy wouldn't stay mad too long. "It was signed with the letter J and a smiley face."

"Whoever you are," said the guy, and the urgency in his voice had Danny straightening up. "You need to get out of here right now."

"What-?"

Just then, the door to Danny's apartment was blown open.

"I hope you're ready, birdie," a voice outside sounded, before a spindly man in a purple suit, green hair and sickly-looking skin walked in.

"Because you and me are going to have so much fun."

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #batman #the signal #duke thomas #danny fenton #the joker #danny is confused #who is this skinny little man dressed in a funny little suit and why is he in his house #meanwhile duke is freaking the FUCK out #can be duke x danny or just gen #roxpox #roxpoxwrote #I think I have a cold #and I just ran out of cough drops #woe is me

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foodshowxyz · 6 months ago

Text

Spicy Italian Sausage Rigatoni with Tomato Basil Sauce 🌶️🍅🌿

This flavorful dish combines spicy Italian sausage with a rich tomato basil sauce, all tossed with perfectly cooked rigatoni pasta. Get ready for a taste explosion!

Ingredients:

1 pound rigatoni pasta 🍝

1 pound spicy Italian sausage, casings removed 🌶️

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/2 onion, diced 🧅

3 cloves garlic, minced 🧄

1 (28-ounce) can crushed tomatoes 🥫

1/2 cup chopped fresh basil 🌿

1 teaspoon dried oregano 🌿

1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes (adjust to taste) 🌶️

Salt and black pepper to taste

Grated Parmesan cheese for serving 🧀

Instructions:

Cook the pasta: Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the rigatoni and cook according to package directions for al dente pasta. Drain and set aside.

Sauté the sausage: While the pasta is cooking, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the sausage and cook, breaking it up with a spoon, until browned and cooked through. Remove the sausage from the skillet and set aside.

Sauté the aromatics: In the same skillet, add the onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another minute until fragrant.

Make the sauce: Add the crushed tomatoes, basil, oregano, red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper to the skillet. Bring to a simmer and cook for 15-20 minutes, or until the sauce has thickened slightly.

Combine everything: Return the cooked sausage to the skillet and stir to combine. Add the cooked rigatoni and toss to coat in the sauce.

Serve: Divide the pasta among plates and top with grated Parmesan cheese. Garnish with additional fresh basil if desired.

Tips:

For a creamier sauce, stir in a 1/2 cup of heavy cream after adding the crushed tomatoes.

If you don't have fresh basil, substitute with 1 tablespoon of dried basil.

Add a pinch of sugar to the sauce to balance the acidity of the tomatoes.

Serve with a side of crusty bread to soak up the delicious sauce! 🥖

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kusanagihaku · 24 days ago

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think about the consequence

⭢ tohma x mc, 1.2k

h is for height. ˖⁺‧₊⟡ alphabet series | ao3

You grit your teeth. Who the fuck put the loose leaf packages all the way in the back of the cupboard?

It’s bad enough that you were held up at Sinostra and were sweaty and ten minutes late to your meeting with Jin; now you’re struggling to make Jin his pot of tea too. You can feel his displeasure growing by the minute.

You strain on your tiptoes, stretching your fingers as far as possible to the back of the cupboard, but your fingertips barely brush the bag of tea you know is in there. Fucking hell.

Shouldn’t this be Tohma’s job? Or actually, what’s stopping the Frostheim captain from making the goddamn tea himself? Who does he think he is, ordering you to–

“Honour student,” a deep voice, smooth as silk, slides by the shell of your ear.

A hand reaches past yours, long fingers easily snagging the bag of tea and bringing it down to your eye level. You turn to see the growing smirk of the Frostheim vice-captain, polished monocle glinting in the artificial warmth of the pantry as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

He is much too close – close enough you can count individual eyelashes framing the cornflower blue of his eyes, close enough you can lean forward and kiss–

You flush immediately, then spend the next two seconds willing it down despairingly as Tohma’s grin grows wider. Stupid perfect man with his stupid perfect hair and his stupid perfect face.

He smells oddly warm, too, a mix of sunshine and linen and something spiced. You bite your lip; it surprises you. For some reason you’ve always associated him with the crisp cologne-like air freshener floating around the halls of his house, but there is something so him, so magnetically Tohma, rushing in the undercurrent of his scent that it makes a small part of you wonder what it would taste like.

You grab the bag of tea from his hands, pointedly looking away. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he says, insufferable grin still pinned in place as if he knows how fast your heart is thundering, how fast he makes your heart thunder. God, you’d slap him across his smug smile if you could.

With your lips, preferably, a cheerful and annoying part of your mind reminds you, and you scowl, unwrapping the golden bag between your hands. Maybe so.

He doesn’t leave after that, either, instead leaning against the counter casually, arms crossed and eyes tracking your movements between the kettle and teapot. “Bai mudan?”

“Mm,” you say. You shake one, two spoons of loose tea leaves into the clay teapot in front of you as you wait for the water to rise to the right temperature. “Jin specifically requested it.”

Tohma laughs at that. “He enjoys it whenever he’s stressed.”

You fold the edges of the bag neatly back into itself and reach for a clip to close the bag just like you’ve seen Tohma do millions of times. Whatever the infernal Frostheim king could be stressed about you cannot fathom – for as long as you’ve been inspector you’ve always seen Tohma handling most of the paperwork and missions.

Almost as if he can read your mind, Tohma softens. “Institute things, you know?”

You don’t, you want to say. Institute or not, a man should be able to make his own damn tea. But there is something soft and chiding in the gentle of Tohma’s words that hold your tongue. Always kind, always loyal, the sort of strong and steadfast you could only wish to be. He must have his reasons.

You sigh, an acknowledgement rather than an agreement, and are rewarded by a hum from the monocled man beside you. The loose leaf tea returns to the cupboard, significantly closer to the edge than when you retrieved it.

Tohma glances down. He opens his mouth again, but you beat him to it. “Yeah, 75 degrees, I know.”

His eyes crinkle up at that, an amused sparkle behind his monocle you refuse to admit shoots straight through your heart and leaves you some type of giddy. “Good girl.”

G-

Your brain stops.

What?

He– what?

Your cheeks react before your brain can, burning red at his comment and fueled by the gravel of his voice. What?

You’ve never been one for praise. But somehow, as you stare at the wisps of steam trailing up from the spout of the kettle (you really should be removing it from the heat soon), the embers of his words settle at the bottom of your stomach, glowing; they leave a flashing red neon sign sprawling Good girl! all over the now dry expanse of your mind.

Maybe you are one for praise, after all.

Your hand reaches towards the electric kettle on autopilot, turning it off, but the rest of your brain twitches feebly, failing to restart.

What does he mean?

As large as your crush on him has been growing, Tohma has never once been more than courteous towards you. Throughout the hours you’ve spent in the vaults with him poring over paperwork and sifting through the missions and budgets of the general students, he has always been every HR personnel’s wet dream, always staying on his side of the table and conversing about nothing but work.

You’ve cursed it out before, of course, in the safety of your own shower – wouldn’t it be nice if he looked at you like more than a coworker, for once?

Except (as you’re quickly finding out) perhaps it is more than you can handle.

Maybe he goes around calling all the Frostheim girls that, you rationalise, desperately. (You hope not.) Maybe he doesn’t know the effect it has on you.

“Need help?” Tohma’s voice is close to your ear now, and you startle. Some time between your thoughts going blank and the kettle finding itself in your hand he has moved much closer than you realised – his breath is heated on the tip of your ear, a far cry from the low temperatures filling the rest of Frostheim.

It’s been a while since you were posted to Frostheim for your very first mission, but the vibrations Tohma’s voice sends through the prickle of your skin is still as strong as back then. You suppress a shiver as you turn, only to see Tohma’s smirk mere inches from your face.

Oh, this bastard. He knows.

His hand reaches out to secure the kettle before you can drop it in shock, closing over yours in a soft steadiness as you blink.

“Steady, now,” he murmurs. Whether he’s referring to the kettle in your hands or the irregular bump of your heart, you will never know. His eyes drift briefly down your face, before he turns to set the electric kettle back on the table.

“Well,” he says, unreadable smile back in place like he hasn’t just melted half your braincells, “I have work to do.“

He steps away, bowing slightly; the absence of his body next to yours is immediately noticeable in the empty chill that follows.

“Best to get Jin his tea soon,” he adds, nudging his monocle up the bridge of his nose, and with that he disappears into the cold darkness of Frostheim, leaving you with the swirl of steam from the kettle and the swirl of thoughts in your brain.

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #tohma ishibashi #contributing to the small number of tohma fics in this fandom #also smug bastard tohma is my favourite brand of tohma #alphabet series #HEHEHEH OK I GET TO POST MY MASTERLIST NOW TAHT THERE'S MORE THAN ONE FIC.....#also yes this title is from my smug!tohma assigned song gorgeous by tswift thank u for listening

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blog-atechies · 10 months ago

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Water Filter Systems for Home

In our pursuit of a healthy lifestyle, we often focus on nutritious food, regular exercise, and a clean living environment. However, one crucial aspect that is sometimes overlooked is the quality of the water we consume. With concerns about water pollution and contaminants on the rise, investing in a reliable water filter system for your home is a proactive step toward safeguarding your family's well-being.

Understanding the Need for Water Filtration Water, a fundamental element for life, can contain impurities that affect its taste, odor, and, more importantly, its safety for consumption. Municipal water treatment plants do an excellent job of providing potable water, but the journey from the treatment facility to your tap may expose the water to contaminants. These contaminants can range from sediments and chlorine to heavy metals and even microorganisms.

A home water filter system serves as the last line of defense, ensuring that the water reaching your glass is free from impurities that could compromise your health. Let's delve into the different types of water softener for shower available for homes and how to choose the one that best suits your needs.

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Water softeners are designed to remove minerals like calcium and magnesium that can cause hard water. While they don't necessarily remove contaminants, water softeners can enhance the overall quality of water in terms of its impact on appliances, plumbing, and skin.

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#water softener package #water softeners dublin #water softeners ireland #limescale treatment system #hard water softener systems #water filtration system for home #best water softener systems ireland #hard water softener #water softener system #water filter system for home #water softening systems #water softener #water softener for shower #purifier in dublin

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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 years ago

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Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

This, Cinderella thinks, is a fairytale.

The nobles are bowing to the Prince, to her, and the air smells like the desserts on the table to her left. The music is still going, a sweet flute that serves a placeholder until the greetings to the prince are done. Over the bowed heads of the dancers nearest them, Cinderella can see her stepfamily curtsying to the arrival of the Prince.

Curtsying to her.

“I am glad that my tardiness did not hold up the festivities,” the Prince says. He inclines his head to the dais where the Queen and King sit. “We should resume.”

The Queen and King.

The Queen is as beautiful as the rumors say. Her long, black hair, streaked with grey, falls around her shoulders like vines, pinned into curled shapes against her violet gown with pins that sparkle like the night sky. She wears a simple gold circlet that glitters in the candlelight. Is it encrusted in jewels?

The King wears a heavier crown in burnished copper. His eyes remind her of the Prince’s, hawkish and knowing when he looks at them. He’s dressed completely in black except for the sash that crosses his chest. That is the same violet as his wife’s cape and his son’s jacket.

Cinderella is prevented from curtsying by the way the Prince presses her hand against his arm. She bows her head as best she’s able, heart thundering in her chest. Somehow looking at the Queen and King reminds her of the rainbows in the meadow. They swim in her vision as if obscured by power.

“Hold your head high,” the Prince whispers to her. His breath is hot against the shell of her ear and when she glances at him out of her peripherals, his eyes are warm. “You’re with me.”

Cinderella has never been with someone. She’s always been trailing behind, packages in hand, or at their knee with a hairbrush and sewing kit in hand. Even as a little girl she was never with her parents. She always felt like she was a step behind them, watching as the distance between them grew into an ocean.

She doesn’t feel like that now. The Prince’s arm is warm under her fingers and the gaze of so many people makes her face hot even if she knows the Prince’s magic protects her from being recognized. Cinderella has never felt so keenly in her own skin as she does in this moment.

Cinderella pulls her shoulders back and looks right over every noble to the blooming mosaic on the other side of the hall.

Well done, the voice in the back of her head purrs. There’s satisfaction curling in Cinderella’s stomach that feels foreign and heavy. She likes standing tall. She likes feeling bold and confident. Very well done.

“I know I promised you champagne,” the Prince says. He waves his hand and the music begins to play again. The nobles don’t resume their dance right away, their eyes fixed on the Prince’s every move. Expectant? Hopeful? Envious? The Prince only has eyes for her. “But I am jealous your first dance wasn’t with me.”

“Perhaps if someone had been on time it would have been,” Cinderella says. The Prince snorts and Cinderella’s smile widens. “Your highness.”

The Prince leads her onto the dance floor. The band is gently coming together again, string instruments rising underneath the lonely flute, the pianist adjusting on their bench in preparation. The nobles part for them like water, sliding back into their places without a word.

The Prince comes to a halt in the center of the dancefloor. If he notices the way the nobles stare, it doesn’t seem to bother him. He slides his arm out from under Cinderella’s hand, but doesn’t relinquish it. He kiss the back of her hand and asks, “May I have this dance?”

Cinderella must be beet red. She breathes in through her nose and smiles on the exhale. “Yes.” Then, because he is her friend, “You’ll be the first to have a dance from me, if that makes you feel better. The rest only shared one with me.”

Does the Prince’s gaze soften? Candlelight catches in his eyes, setting them ablaze. “Having or sharing, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “As long as it’s with you.”

Cinderella is speechless. The Prince takes the opportunity to sweep them into their first dance together, one hand on her hip, the other still holding her hand aloft. She’s not ready or at all prepared for it and has to rely on his grip for support when she stumbles.

“Where on earth did you learn to talk like that?” Cinderella hisses. She kicks at his shin and scoffs when he evades it easily. “Ugh.”

“I’m fairly certain that’s not how this dance goes,” the Prince says, tone mild. He’s smiling when she turns her glare on him. He whispers, “You’ll need to be faster if you want to kick me.”

Laughter bubbles in her chest. Cinderella fights it down. “You’d better show me how this dance works before I give into the temptation.”

“My pleasure.”

Dancing with the Prince is better than any of the other dances, though she doesn’t think she can bear to tell him that when he’s grinning like he knows it. He doesn’t guide her like Cy, her first masked partner, pulling and navigating her through the steps like a teacher might. He doesn’t make it a competition like Iz did, doesn’t change the rhythm whenever she manages to catch up to his pace. He isn’t considerate like Morrigan, waiting for her to catch her breath after a particularly tricky step.

Dancing with the Prince is like…it’s like being in the meadow. It’s like laying underneath the oak tree and watching the sun through the leaves, his gentle voice in her ear and the feeling of his magic chasing the chill away. It’s the feeling of being together where anything she says or does will be welcome or celebrated.

She doesn’t know when the other dancers join them, but she notices when the Prince nearly runs into a pair. She neatly takes the lead, spinning them to avoid a collision. The Prince startles and then scowls.

“I would have noticed,” he says. His gaze is dark on the dancing couple as if he’d like to curse them for the near accident.

“But you didn’t have to,” Cinderella says. Somehow she knows he isn’t that irritated. She thinks about spinning him but decides against it. She’s never tried spinning her partner before and is afraid of throwing him into the swirls of skirts and tailcoats that now surround them. She follows him away from the couple who nearly collided with them, surrendering the lead easily. “I did.”

“You did,” the Prince says, an inscrutable look on his face. It only lasts for a moment before he’s quirking an eyebrow at her. “Another song?”

Cinderella doesn’t feel tired at all. “Yes.”

They dance.

-----.

The night is a dream.

Cinderella holds onto it even after the Prince escorts her back to the Emerald Castle, after Helga pulls the pins from her hair, after she gulps down water and fruit before climbing into bed. They never did manage to have a glass of champagne. Cinderella can’t bring herself to regret the missed opportunity.

I’ll just have to try it tomorrow, Cinderella thinks with a thrill. Tomorrow. She’s going to the ball tomorrow.

She danced with the Prince all night. He delighted in each song with her, always keeping up with her mood and inviting her into faster steps or higher leaps. They talked and they laughed and, looking back, they must have seemed like children to everyone else. Cinderella felt like a child, free and excited in a way that she hasn’t been allowed to be in a long time.

She closes her eyes and can’t wait for the Prince to come pick her up for the ball tomorrow.

-----.

The carriage lurches and jumps as it transitions from the smooth Royal Road to the rougher cobblestones of the royal town. The silent occupants seem to wake up from their stupors all at once, the jostling as good as cold water on a dreamer.

“Mother,” Drizella whines. She doesn’t understand what went wrong. She did everything her mother said to do! She curled her hair and wore her lilac dress and didn’t dance with anyone other than the Prince. Except— “He only danced with her all night!”

“I have never been so embarrassed,” Anastasia says. She bites her thumb. Visions of the woman in green spin across the back of her eyelids every time she blinks. “We wore the same color! How dare she?!”

Baroness Ramsey doesn’t answer her daughters. She promised herself when she married the Baron that she would never allow anyone to guess at her non-noble past through her conduct. So she lets her face remain impassive and thinks carefully before she speaks.

Inside she is seething.

“That woman was in the wrong,” the Baroness says at last. She lays her hands daintily over her lap. “A ball like this – well. It’s for all noble ladies, isn’t it? The Prince was meant to dance with others. I’m sure the King and Queen will talk with him tonight. Tomorrow…”

She trails off. Her girls misunderstand as she meant them to. They perk up at the mention of tomorrow and the idea that the Prince will be different then. Anastasia begins debating what jewelry she will wear to compliment her gown tomorrow, going over the pros and cons of each one (“That woman wore gold tonight and won’t tomorrow, so the gold necklace might be the safest choice. But the prince wore silver tonight and might again and if I wear silver we could match.”) while Drizella pulls at her curls, lost in the daydream of what tomorrow could bring.

Inside the baroness is not so sure.

“A second invitation will be sent to those the Prince has taken an interest in. Expect news by dawn.”

They are not high nobility. It is only through the baroness’ hard work and clever deals that they’re nobility at all. Perhaps it would be different if her husband were better at networking like her, but he’s not (if he’s still alive at all) so they have no advantage through title alone. Their only advantage lies in her daughters’ beauty being recognized and – thanks to that woman – that didn’t happen.

Maybe I was hasty to leave Cinderella at home, the Baroness muses. Cinderella would have caught the Prince’s eye. There’s always been something…unsettlingly compelling about that girl. To be honest, the Baroness has always been a little afraid of Cinderella. Even as a child she always seemed to look through the Baroness rather than at her. With her golden hair and odd, light eyes, Cinderella would have been enough to compete with the woman who had captured the Prince’s attention. Then, when the second invitation arrived, the baroness could have kept Cinderella away to leave the real work to her girls.

She eyes her daughters. No. She could not have chosen any differently. It’s been hard work ensuring her daughters never grew afraid of their strange stepsister. Imagine if they were forced to watch the prince be bewitched by her? The baroness was right to leave Cinderella at home, dressed plainly, rather than allow her daughters to see through the soot and rough clothing to the strange, menacing woman beneath.

“We will stay up all night until the invitation arrives,” the Baroness announces. She won’t be able to sleep anyway. “I want each of you to go over every detail of tonight. Who did you notice? What could you have improved on? We will need to be even better tomorrow.”

Anastasia and Drizella complain, but the Baroness tunes them out. She knows what’s best for her daughters. If she says that they need to go over noble greeting they say, every pin, every broach, every conversation, they will.

It will come, she tells herself. The Prince may not have noticed her daughters, but the Queen was certainly interested in them. She seemed particularly interested in Drizella. Perhaps she will be the one to choose the prince’s bride. Yes, that must be it. She was too attentive to my daughters for that not to be the case.

The second invitation will come. The carriage squeaks to a halt outside of their inn and the baroness waits impatiently for the coachman to open the door. Yes, her earlier concerns were born from anxiety. Obviously the Prince won’t choose his own bride. Clearly! He’s a prince and princes must marry based on their parents’ wills. She, a baroness, wouldn’t allow her daughters to choose their husbands. Certainly the Queen, a fellow noble mother, feels much the same.

Cheered, the Baroness doesn’t yell for the coachman to hurry up helping her daughters down from the carriage. Anastasia does it instead and her Capital accent is even beginning to sound convincing! Drizella nearly falls when the coachman supports her step down too weakly, but her recovery is much quicker than it would have been two years ago.

Yes, the baroness must not lose herself to anxiety. She’s raised her daughters well and that will all pay off when she sees one of them married to the prince. Perhaps she should talk to the Queen herself tomorrow? Mother to mother?

Yes, that’s the best plan. She’ll leave her girls to the business of catching the eye of the prince. If they prove successful, wonderful. If not?

The Baroness hides her smile. There’s a reason she came to the ball despite the invitation not including mothers of the potential brides.

-----------.

Three important invitations are delivered at dawn.

One is snatched by the Baroness who breathes a sigh of relief that she must hide from her daughters.

The second is handed to Helga who rolls her eyes at the redundancy and promises to deliver it to her charge once she wakes.

The third is delivered via raven to a lone man on the road on horseback. He holds his arm above his head as soon as he recognized the purple ribbon tied around the bird’s neck, barely flinching when its talons cut through his thin, traveling shirt.

“A summons?” the man asks. The bird does not answer. It takes off as soon as he unties the message from its leg. He flips the letter over to examine the seal. His stomach lurches. “From the Queen?”

He can’t ignore a letter from the Queen. With a sigh, the man turns his horse gently before even breaking the seal. The Queen only accepts replies in person. A bitterness coats his tongue.

Another letter has brought him back to his ancestral home. A very important letter from someone he’s been forced to leave alone too long. And now, barely four days’ ride from the sender, he’s forced to ignore her once again.

I’m coming, Cinderella. Just a little longer.

Baron David Ramsey has been away from home for too long.

If you’d like to read more parts of Cinderella a week earlier, please consider checking out my Patreon (X)! On top of posting all my stories a week earlier there, I also post Patreon Exclusives.

#Cinderella fan fiction #my writing #cinderella retelling #this is turning into a full novella #this is why i write short stories #BECAUSE BOOKS GET SO LONG #long post

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peleksstuff · 2 months ago

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messed up l rafe cameron x pogue!reader

*gifs not mine*

should be writing a jjmaybanks imagine but my tiktok fyp is full of rafe cameron editss so here it is (a lil bit of chatgpt to correct my grammar)

summary: your rafe cameron dealer

----

The Outer Banks has always been a place of division—a world split between the Kooks and the Pogues, the rich and the working class, the privileged and the struggling. And you? You were a curious exception to the rule. Born into the world of the Pogues, you managed to carve out a niche for yourself that defied easy categorization.

You weren’t just another Pogue. You were a dealer, but not in the typical sense. You moved in the shadows, dealing in secrets, information, and occasionally more illicit substances. You had connections that crossed the invisible lines between the two worlds, and it was in this gray area that you thrived. It was here that you’d first crossed paths with Rafe Cameron, the quintessential Kook—rich, entitled, and dangerously charming.

The sun was beginning to set over the marsh, casting a golden hue over the water as you leaned against your beat-up truck, waiting. The sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention, and you turned to see Rafe Cameron walking toward you, a smirk already playing on his lips.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite Pogue,” Rafe drawled, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You’re not usually the type to keep me waiting, Cameron. What’s the deal?”

He shrugged, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket. “Got held up. But I’m here now. You got the stuff?”

You reached into the truck’s glove compartment and pulled out a small, nondescript package. “It’s all there. Just like you asked.”

Rafe’s eyes darted to the package, then back to you. There was a glimmer of something in his gaze—anticipation, maybe even desperation—but he covered it up with his usual bravado. “Perfect. You always come through.”

You handed him the package, but as his fingers brushed against yours, you couldn’t help but notice how they trembled slightly. It was subtle, but it was there.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone casual. “You good, Rafe?”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of irritation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You raised an eyebrow, keeping your tone light but your gaze steady. “Just asking if you’re okay. You seem a bit… off today.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might snap at you. But then he sighed, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. “I’m fine. Just a rough week.”

“Rough enough that it’s showing,” you observed, trying to keep your concern from seeping too much into your voice.

He smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What, you worried about me?”

“I’m just saying, you don’t exactly look like you’re on top of the world.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered, his expression darkening. “Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving.”

“You’re telling me,” you said, your voice softening slightly. “But you know, whatever you’re dealing with, this isn’t the way to handle it.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, and the tension between you grew thicker. “And what would you know about handling anything? You’re just a Pogue who got lucky enough to play both sides. Don’t act like you understand what I’m dealing with.”

You stared at him, unflinching. “You think you’re the only one with problems, Cameron? You’re not. But if you keep going like this, it’s only going to get worse.”

Rafe’s fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might lose his cool. But then he took a step back, exhaling sharply. “Why do you even care? You’ve got your own thing going on. Why not just leave me to deal with my shit?”

You watched him carefully, noting the way his shoulders tensed as he waited for your response. The defiance in his eyes was a flimsy shield, one you could see right through.

“I don’t know,” you began, your voice softer now, less confrontational. “I just thought maybe… maybe you’re better than this.”

Rafe stared at you, his expression hardening for a moment as if he was about to argue. But then, something in your tone, your words, made him hesitate. His gaze flickered, uncertainty creeping in where there had once been only anger.

“Maybe,” Rafe muttered, more to himself than to you. “Or maybe I’m just as messed up as everyone thinks I am.”

“I don’t think you’re as messed up as you believe you are,” you said softly. “I think you’re trying really hard to prove something, maybe even to yourself.”

Rafe’s expression twisted with frustration. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that whatever you’re going through, I get the feeling you’re trying to live up to some expectation that’s never going to be met,” you explained.

He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away. “It’s not that simple.”

You watched him, the frustration and vulnerability etched into his features. “I get that it’s not simple. But I think you’re caught in this endless cycle of trying to prove yourself to someone. You’re pushing yourself to the brink, and it’s affecting you more than you realize.”

Rafe’s frustration boiled over, his eyes flashing with anger. “Mind your own goddamn business, Pogue! You don’t know what it’s like, and you don’t get to judge me.”

You took a step back, feeling the sting of his words. The exhaustion of dealing with his constant push and pull weighed heavily on you. You’d tried to reach out, to offer some semblance of understanding and support, but it seemed to have only made things worse.

“Okay,” you said quietly, your voice soft but tinged with weariness.

You looked at him with a mix of frustration and sympathy. “Good luck with everything, Rafe. And just so you know, for what it’s worth, you’re not as messed up as you think you are. Not to me, at least.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x readet #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #drew starkey #outer banks

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willowser · 1 year ago

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🎃 𝔗𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔯 𝔗𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱! 🎃

katsuki is fresh from the shower and still wrapped in a towel when you come in, and at the sound of your voice, his interest in fiddling with his hair quickly fades.

he doesn't turn around to stare at you fully—at least, not at first; his eyes meet yours in the mirror and widen, almost imperceptibly, before tracking down the expanse of your reflection. you told him about the costume you'd ordered, but his response had been simple, acknowledgement more than anything, and now—

the slow simmering flush on his cheeks is more obvious when he finally faces you—and it's a bit too high on his cheekbones to be from any hot water.

katsuki clears his throat before he speaks, swallowing once. "the hell're you wearin'?"

you shrug, and though you can tell from his body language that he doesn't dislike it—a shyness pools in your belly, suddenly too seen under his warm gaze. you fiddle with the cheap material, tugging lightly at how it sits on your hips.

"my halloween costume!" you try to remain upbeat regardless, smiling widely at him as you pose appropriately, to show off the full effect. "what do you think?"

his mouth screws up in a way that could come across as disgust to the wrong person, but you know him better than that; this is him trying to keep control of his face when he doesn't know what to do with it. instead of answering right away, he crosses the bedroom until he's standing in front of you, poking at your headband and the blocky, plastic jewelry that came in the package.

at his side, his palm runs across the towel on his waist. like he's sweating.

"'s'cute." katsuki finally mumbles, dropping his eyes to the neckline of your costume when you grin. you feel him tugging lightly, too, on the material at your hips, before settling on your waist.

you'd kiss him if it wouldn't ruin your makeup.

"i'm so glad you think so," you tell him, genuinely, leaning forward to lightly boop his nose with yours—and when he only hums in response, softened, you hit him with the truth. "because i bought you one to match!"

#happy halloween my dear !!! 🍭🍬🍫🍭🍭🍫🍫🍬🍫🍭🍫🍫🍭#giving you so many treats !! big scoopfuls !!#i hope that your evening is a good one !! no tricks 😌#i wrote this on my lunch i'm sorry it's a mess LMAOOO #is this a trick ?? or a treat ??? that's for you to decide 😌🩷✨️#✿ ask willow

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charliemwrites · 11 months ago

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Rudolfo time!!

(Slightly more kidnap-y but not entirely through his fault. Also, this character is mute, I hope i portrayed it well but please let me know if I’ve used any words or phrases that aren’t correct)

You aren’t actual cartel. Not a single one of them would protect you or have your back or even spare you a sip of beer. No, you’re just a runner. Transport messages, mostly. Code words that aren’t usually that clever, USBs sometimes. Once a shitty flip phone.

You don’t want to be cartel. Even tangentially as their messenger. But your family needs the money, badly, and they pay well. Especially when you’re good at what you do. And you are. Perks of a messenger who can’t speak your secrets.

In the end, you don’t even think it’s your fuck up. Just wrong place, wrong time, and a very important thing that you’re carrying for the cartel.

You don’t resist Los Vaqueros. Go along quietly and politely. When they ask you questions you just shake your head, hands trapped behind your back and unable to sign an explanation. No matter how they shout and threaten and explain how much trouble you’re in (and oh don’t you know it) you can’t answer beyond over-exaggerated facial expressions and weird half-gestures.

They drag you to their colonel and his second. The colonel is scary. Scarier than any cartel lieutenant you’ve faced. The more he yells and gestures, the more scared you get. You don’t know these men, after all, don’t know how far they’ll go in pursuit of stopping the cartel.

It’s Rudolfo that steps in, something in his face curious. He squats down in front of the chair they’ve sat you in, expression easy and calm.

“Can you tell us your name?” he asks.

You sigh softly and shake your head.

“Can’t or won’t?”

You swallow, blink once. Thankfully, he gets it.

“You can’t speak?”

Relief floods you as you shake your head, shoulders slumping.

“If we get your hands free, can you find some to communicate with us?”

You nod, leaning forward a bit. He clicks your cuffs loose and you’re quick to begin signing but he puts his hands up.

“Wait, wait, it’s been a long time since I saw LSM. Let’s get you an interpreter.”

They bring in one of the other Vaqueros, who speaks as your hands move. You tell them your name, where you’re from, answer their questions.

Please, I’m scared. I don’t want work for them anymore but my family…

Even the colonel has softened as you’ve cooperated, softens further at that last message.

“We’ll secure your family. In the meantime, write down everything you can remember. Locations, names, messages, packages. Anything and everything,” he explains.

He leaves Rudolfo in charge of you. You… don’t mind. He’s patient as you find a way to organize things, carefully written index cards organized in groups. Names accompanied by physical descriptions, where you saw them, what you brought them. Vehicles, code words, and anything else you saw while delivering.

Rudolfo is surprisingly kind to you. He offers you food and water, updates on your family. (They won’t speak to you for working with the cartel. You understand… but it hurts. Rudolfo is gentle as you cry into your hands).

He talks to you. You don’t understand why, but he does. Tells you about Los Vaqueros, Alejandro Vargas, himself. Waits patiently for while you write out answers about yourself.

When it gets to be late and you’re just entirely wrung out, you finally ask, why are you being so nice?

“I don’t blame you for trying to help your family. The cartel prays on the vulnerable. You made a mistake, and now you’re trying to fix it. That’s what matters to me.”

You’re not allowed to leave. Even if you were, you wouldn’t want to. The world seems even bigger and scarier than before, now that your former employers will mark you as a turncoat. You are, of course, but it’s frightening. It wears you out.

Rudolfo clucks after your health, asking if you’ve slept or eaten. You hardly ever have. He’ll cart you off for a meal or a nap, promising to stand watch, that no one will bother you. You often end up in his clothes, few of your own as you’ve got.

He’s also learning to sign. The first time he says, good morning how did you sleep, you start crying. He gives you a big hug until you stop.

When he has time you help him practice. He’s teaching the others too. They’ve learned how your hands form “Rudy” to help you find him.

One day, he and Alejandro sit you down. You’ve long exhausted what you can actively remember from being the cartel’s messenger. It was only a matter of time, you think. Your usefulness has ended.

“You’ve been granted a full pardon given the circumstances and your cooperation,” Alejandro explains. You’ve warmed up to each other quite a bit since you first arrived. “You’re no longer detained here.”

You nod, trying to blink away the stinging in your eyes. You should be happy, relieved, grateful. They didn’t have to pardon you.

But all you can think about is having to leave. You’ve come to feel safe here with Los Vaqueros. With Rudy.

“You don’t have to,” he blurts.

You blink at him, a bit startled by the unusual outburst. He runs a hand down his face, starting to flush.

“You don’t have to stay… but you don’t have to leave,” he explains. “We’ll keep you safe here.”

You stare, throat thick with emotion. He takes that to be hesitation and leans forward, taking one of your hands in both of his.

“Let me keep you safe. Please.”

You stay. How can you not?

You don’t actually know what your official job is on base - except that it’s a lot of following Rudy around. So, nothing to complain about.

He keeps a close eye on you always. That the others are at least cordial given your past. Has squared up with one or two others for questioning your loyalty. He’s not an easy man to anger but people quickly learn that you are the exception.

The first time he brings you a flower, you fawn over it before making him place it in your braid. After that, your hair is often adorned in dahlias and roses and honeysuckle. He swears that you smell like them even after they’re gone.

You’re in love with him, can’t imagine any other conclusion you could come to. It hurts when you see new recruits flirting with him, or women out at the bars. Can’t blame them either, really.

“Why the long face?” he asks after politely declining an offer to dance. You were hoping you hid in your drink fast enough. “No, no, not on my watch, flower.”

He stands and gently urges you to your feet, guides you out onto the dance floor and sweeps you into the rhythm of bachata. You fluster, hide your face against his chest as he laughs.

“There we go,” he chuckles, “that’s better than looking sad.”

You huff, caught between longing and enjoying the moment. He leads you through two more songs before taking you outside for fresh air, a hand on the smell of your back even once you’re leaning on the balcony.

“What is it?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”

You try to figure out how to explain without ruining everything. His eyes dart between your hands and your face, trying to decipher a garbled message that just won’t form.

I just…. like you too much, you admit finally.

He tilts his head, but pauses to consider that. Then shakes his head and crowds close. Your hands press against his chest, feel his heart beating hard and strong against your palm.

“Impossible,” he replies. “You can’t like me too much when I love you.”

And he says it so simply, like the desert is hot or the sky is blue. You stare at him, mouth parted. He grins, swoops in to kiss you, little more than a peck compared to what you crave.

“C’mon, let’s go home. We have a lot to talk about I think.”

Home brings clarity. It brings promises. It brings you a man that massages your hands when they get tired from writing, who teaches you his grandmother’s tamale recipe.

Home is a man who laces flowers in your hair. Who teaches you to shoot and how to pick handcuffs. He brings a life where you’re always pointed in his direction, or he in yours. Safe inside his base, with his soldiers.

#thoughts™️#cod #keeper/kept au #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #keeper rudy

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