#yeah i really need to get a life alriGHT?? I KNOW

[starkeynation]

Is it casual now? Part 2

Part 1

A/N: The moment you’ve been waiting for🥳 Also this might the cliche fanfic story but im a sucker for it so i hope yall do too!

It’s been two agonising weeks since you broke up with Rafe..well, not exactly broke up cause you guys were never officially “together” as he said. Those words cut deeper than you’d ever admit, and you’ve spent every day since crying into your pillow, moping around your room, replaying every moment the two of you shared. Spending all four months with him really felt like a lifetime, and he’d burrowed into your soul in a way no one else ever had. It was infuriating.

But today, you finally snaps. It’s pointless being sad over someone who never truly wanted you in the first place. So, you took Sarah’s advice and go on the blind date she has been setting up for you.

When you arrive at the brunch place, you spot a guy in a blue polo, golden-blonde hair, decent looking, sitting alone at the table. That must be him, you thought. You proceed to approach him, exchange names and settling into the awkward conversations. Honestly, you don’t even want to be here. You’re just here for Sarah and you just had to get out of your room before you go crazy.

While you’re eating, you spot someone coming in. Rafe, he’s here. He sees you immediately seating with the guy but thank god your date is not facing him, or he could see the death stare Rafe is giving. While the kook in front of you who you don’t really remember his name..Matheo? Matty? is talking about his life, you couldn’t help but keep glancing towards Rafe’s direction. The way he needs to constantly tugs down his sleeve because of his huge biceps, his smooth buzz cut that you miss running your fingers through, his sharp jawline that you used to kiss all over- it’s maddening how much you still want him.

As the brunch date ended, Matt offers to give you a ride back home since Sarah’s the one dropping you off before. When both of you reach his car, he notices that his front left tire is flat. “What the- a flat tire? This was fine earlier,” he says, his brows frown. As he open his car boot to grab the spare tire, you accidentally make eye contact with Rafe from across the parking lot. He’s looking at you with a devilish smirk. You shake your head in disbelief as Rafe enters his car and drive off, “unbelievable,” you mutter.

“What was that?” Matt asks, returning with a tire. You give him a soft smile, “oh, nothing,” you reply. At that time, you know this is Rafe’s doing but how did he even know Matt’s car, your thoughts racing.

Later, when Matt drops you home, he invites you to a party at his place tomorrow night. “Um..yeah I’ll think about it,” you say.

“Alright, text me if you change your mind,” he reply. “Oh and y/n,” he continues.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanna say i had fun today,” he says, with a big smile plaster on his face. You return the smile, “yeah me too,” you say, as you walk in to your house. Matt is nice but to be frankly honest , all you remember from today is stealing glances at Rafe.

The next evening, at the party, you are looking for a drink at Matt’s bar when all of a sudden, you heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“Did you enjoy your date yesterday?”

You roll your eyes knowing it’s Rafe. You turn around facing him, “it’s none of your business, but yes, i did, thanks for asking,” you give him a sarcastic smile.

Rafe’s jaw tightens, he leans closer to your ear, “yeah? Well I don’t think he’s good for you,” he whispers.

You push his shoulder away. “Says the guy who slashed out someone’s tire just cause he’s jealous. Real mature, Rafe” you say, your voice filled with sarcasm. You walk away, not letting him talk.

The night pass by, you’re dancing and flirting with your date. You could feel Rafe is staring and observing your every move. You shouldn’t be enjoying this but you couldn’t help but to make him jealous. Suddenly slow music is on and Matt reaches your hand for a slow dance. You lean your head on the side of his shoulder as he place his hands around your waist. You search for Rafe to make sure he sees this. A moment later, Matt caresses your face and leans in for a kiss. You didn’t kiss him back. The kiss feels nothing to you, it doesnt ignite a spark in you, not like when you were with Rafe. The kiss only lasted for a moment when all of a sudden, Rafe grabs Matt by the collar and punches him.

You pull Rafe away from Matt, “Rafe what the fuck,” you shout, as the music stops and the room falls silent.

“I dare you, kiss my girl again and I swear I’ll put you 6 feet under,” Rafe spits, looking at Matt’s direction, ignoring you completely.

Your blood boils. Your whole body burn with anger. You slap Rafe in front of everyone. “I’m not your fucking girl,” you say, your voice low and deep. Gasps ripple through the crowd. Rafe stares at you, stunned. His eyes mixed with anger and hurt.

You don’t even bother to stay there any longer so you help Matt to his room. “I’m really sorry Matt..Rafe’s an idiot,” you apologise as you press ice to his bruise.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault anyways. I wouldn’t mess with you if I knew you were with him,” he replies.

“Well I’m not.”

“You sure? Dont lie, I notice your attention was drawn to him all night,” Matt questions. You go silent, not sure what to reply cause he’s right, you were flirting with him just to make Rafe jealous. “It’s fine..I think I’m just gonna go to bed now. Can you drive?,” he asks. You nod and apologise to him once again before walking outside.

As you walk outside heading towards your car, you feel a hand grabs your wrist. It’s no one else other than Rafe. “Please can we talk,” he says.

You yank your arm away, “was the slap not enough? Or should I give you another one,” you say, your tone cold.

“Ok fine I deserve it..but please, just hear me out,” he replies, his voice filled with desperation.

“What’s more to talk Rafe? You made it very clear that day that we’re casual and you’re not ready for a relationship so can you go and let me be with someone who actually wants me,” you spit back.

He throw his hands to the air, “okay I know I was a jerk, I’m really sorry. God…I’m so stupid for letting you go but that day, after you left all I could think about is you and how I could make things right,” he admits. “Without you my life is literally nothing, it’s quite, but not good quite and so lonely. Please please forget everything I said, I wanna be with you. Give me a chance please.”

Your eyes are getting teary, your head is spinning, you don’t know what to believe. Your tounge is tied and you don’t know what to say.

“Y/n? Please say something..look, I’ll apologise to that guy for the tire, for the punch, I’ll do anything you say but please just give me one last chance. I miss you y/n.”

You shake your head with a tear running down your cheek, “you really hurt me Rafe..I’m sorry I can’t do this right now.” And before he could say anything, you climb into your car and drive off as fast as you can.

For three days straight, Rafe wouldn’t stop. The constant barrage of notifications—texts, calls, it makes you impossible to think. Despite your silence, he keeps begging to meet and talk, desperate for another chance. Things escalate when he shows up at your house, knocking on the door and calling your name. It’s too much. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You storm outside, determined to end this.

“You said you’d do anything for me, right?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Yes, yes—anything,” he replies eagerly, nodding.

“Okay. Then stop texting me, stop coming here, and just..give me some space, some time.”

Rafe blinks, stunned, but after a long pause, he finally speaks up. “That’s what you really want? He asks.

“Yes that’s what I really want.”

He nods, signalling that he understands and left.

This time, he really does. There are no texts, no calls, no surprise visits. You can tell he’s really trying to prove himself so he respects your boundaries.

Monday comes, and you have to go to work at the country club. You don’t want to cause you know the chance of seeing Rafe there is high but, you can’t pass up the paycheck. As you carry a tray of drinks toward one of the tables, you spot two familiar figures seated together, Ward and Rafe.

You try to keep your distance, but their table is right across from where you have to deliver the drinks. Just as you approach, you overhear Ward’s voice.

“What happened to y/n? I haven’t seen her around lately,” Ward says casually. “She’s the first girl you’ve ever introduced to the family, and, surprisingly, I like her. You were always so happy when she was around. And I’ve noticed you’ve been a mess ever since she’s been out of sight Rafe.”

Your breath catches. The words hit you like a wave, and you nearly drop the tray. Heart racing, you hurry back to the kitchen, trying to process what you just heard. The weight of it all feels overwhelming. You decide to take a moment to clear your head, heading toward the restroom.

Just as you steps outside to return to your work, you bump into someone—hard.

“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, looking up to see Rafe.

He steps aside, about to walk away, but you stop him. “Wait.” Rafe turns, his expression guarded.

You hesitate but can’t hold back. “I didn’t mean to, but I heard what your dad said just now… Is it true? Am I really the first girl you ever brought to meet your whole family?”

Rafe’s face softens. “Yes. You are,” he admits quietly. “And you’re the only girl Wheezie’s ever like. She doesn’t even talk to anyone else.”

Your confusion deepens. “Then why did you say all those things before? I don’t understand, Rafe.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I’ve fallen for you so hard,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “All the girls I’ve been with—they were nothing. Just hookups. But you? You’re special. And I was scared. Scared that if we were together, I’d mess it all up. I’m not a boyfriend material—I screw things up. But now I realize… I’d do anything to make this work. I’ll try, for you. I’ll become the man you deserve.”

The sincerity in his voice brings tears to your eyes. Without thinking, you reach up and kiss him. His lips feel like home, and in that moment, all the doubt and frustration melt away.

Pulling back, you cup his face, looking straight into his eyes. “Rafe, I don’t care if you’re not perfect. I fell for you—the real you. If you’re a mess, then so am I. I don’t care if you ruin my life or fuck up my nights. I’ll never change my mind about you. I trust you. The Rafe I’ve spent the last four months with is nothing like what everyone else describe you. You’re loveable, caring, and would never intentionally hurt me.”

Rafe wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground as he kisses you again. “I miss you,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, holding him close. “I missed you too.”

He sets you down, his blue eyes searching yours. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

You smile, tears threatening to spill. “I thought you’d never ask.” You giggle as he pulls you into another kiss, the world fading away around you.

A/N: i fw ruin my life so hard i had to make the ending feels like this song

[salty-autistic-writer]

I wish you would write a fic where Buck experiences Tommy going into Autistic shutdown.

Thanks for the prompt! <3

Tommy is silent on the drive home.

He’s turned away from Buck, staring out of the window, only answering in hums, shrugs or barely noticeable shakes of his head.

“Hey. Are you alright?” Buck asks when he has to stop at a red light.

“Hmmm.”

Buck frowns. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Nothing.

Buck throws a concerned glance at Tommy, or rather, at the back of Tommy’s head.

Okay. This is new.

And Buck struggles with the urge to press. To insist. Because if anything bothers Tommy, if anything hurts or worries him, Buck wants to help. Wants to comfort and reassure. Wants to be a good boyfriend.

But every signal Tommy is giving indicates that he wants to be left alone. And Buck guesses he has to be patient then, even if it hurts. Even if he’s scared that it’s something he did wrong. The thought burns. Did he do or say anything wrong today? Did he hurt Tommy by accident? 

No. He has to stop spiralling. It’s been a long day of work ending with a long evening of socialising. They all went to a bar together for the first time. The whole 118. Spontaneously. Buck did notice Tommy’s surprise and hesitance when he was asked if he would come too, noticed that brief frowny moment of really? before he had his confident smile back in place and said “Of course”. 

It got late. Tommy is probably just exhausted and needs some time for himself. They have only moved in together recently, so they are also still getting used to sharing everything all the time.

When they’re home, Tommy mechanically, wordlessly, takes off his jacket and shoes and makes a beeline for the bedroom.

Buck stares after him, baffled, scratching the back of his head in restless uncertainty.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to not just burst and ask Tommy a thousand questions. Buck holds himself back. Takes a few deep breaths instead. Only after he goes to the bathroom and drinks some water, does he go to the bedroom to check on Tommy.

It’s dark in the room because the curtains are drawn. Tommy sits on the bed, still in his clothes, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, head resting on them. He’s not moving.

Maybe he has a migraine? Buck’s chest clenches in sympathy. He doesn’t really know what to do. But he feels like it’s a little cold in the room. So he takes one of their extra blankets and wraps it around Tommy’s stony shoulders. Then, he grabs his laptop and sits on the bed too with his back to Tommy’s, without touching him. They are sitting in silence like that, the room filling with the noise of even breathing and rhythmic keyboard clattering.

Buck doesn’t know how much time has passed when Tommy’s shoulder nudges him. “Hey,” Buck says, smiling Tommy turns around and puts his head on Buck’s shoulder. “You okay?” “Hm. What are you doing?” Tommy asks, his voice slightly dozy as if he just woke up from a nap.

“Not much. I started with a mystery story about a message in a bottle I found and somehow ended up reading about the frankly horrifying eating habits of Komodo dragons.”

“Wow,” Tommy says, shuddering when he sees the quite graphic picture Buck was looking at. “Poor little deer. Well. I guess it’s the circle of life. So, uh, you probably want to talk about it, huh?”

“Hm?”

“Me, going all silent on you,” Tommy clarifies.

Buck closes the laptop. “Oh. It’s fine. I was just worrying.”

Tommy nods, unsurprised. “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Okay. But … are you okay?” “Me?” Tommy says, now sounding a little surprised. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. It was just a little too much today. I didn’t want to be a buzzkill. And it’s not like I don’t like spending time with people, especially your family and friends. I just like to know. So I can prepare myself. Unplanned social events tend to make me a little … withdrawn after because they seem to drain all the energy I had left for the day. Always feels like my stupid mind is a battery that has to recharge after days like this, sorry.”

“I had a feeling,” Buck nods. “And you don’t need to apologize. Or to pretend. You can be honest with me. If you don’t feel like going out, you can tell me. We don’t have to. We can just have a nice relaxing evening at home together. I want both of us to be comfortable.”

Tommy is silent for a moment. “Thank you,” he finally says quietly.

“What for?”

“For being so accepting. For not pushing. For the blanket.”

Buck wants to chuckle, but then he feels a hint of sadness. Because sometimes he feels like Tommy is thanking him for totally normal things. If this is what Tommy sees as accepting, that means someone couldn’t even do this. Couldn’t even let Tommy have a moment for himself when he clearly needed it. Buck makes a mental note to ask. Because he feels like this is totally something they should have a long talk about. But not now.

“I hope it helped,” he says instead.

“It did,” Tommy says. “You have no idea.”

Buck smiles. “I'm glad. Are you hungry?" “Yeah.”

Buck puts a hand on his grumbling stomach. “Good. Because I could eat a whole deer right now, just like that Komodo dragon.” "Evan ..."

(AO3 Link)

[echo-riot]

Texting Sevika/Ellie/Abby

•|||——————————————————————|||•

You: So when I said I wanted you to take care of me, I didn’t mean in the “drag me across the floor by my hair” way…

Sevika: Quit whining. You look good all disheveled.

You: I bet I do, but I’m just saying, there’s a line between “care” and “torture”

Sevika: You’re lucky you’re cute. And lucky I’m in the mood for cuddles, not punishment.

You: Lucky for me. Or unlucky for you, depending on how much patience you have for me trying to escape this “care”

Sevika: Try escaping again. I dare you. You’ll end up back on my lap.

You: Oof, is that an offer? Because I’ll test it

Sevika: Test it, and I’ll remind you who’s in charge… And who gets to decide when the cuddles end.

You: Guess I’ll just have to test it out, then. Maybe I’ll need a little extra help getting back in your lap

Sevika: I can always make more room.

You: Glad to know you’re still obsessed with me.

Sevika: Obsession is an understatement.

You: I’ll take that as a compliment, sugar mama.

Sevika: It’s more of a warning, love. Don’t forget it.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

You:Hey, loser. You still breathing?

Ellie: Oh, I’m breathing, alright. But only because I need to stalk you in person later. What are you doing?

You: Just thinking about how lucky you are to have me as your girlfriend. You’re welcome, by the way.

Ellie: Oh yeah? You’re lucky I haven’t tied you up and kept you all to myself yet. But I’m patient, I guess.

You:Yeah, well, I’d let you, but I’d probably escape, and you’d be sad. Maybe that’s your fantasy, huh?

Ellie:You wouldn’t. You think you could escape from me? I’m the one with all the tricks, remember?

You: Oh, I remember. Your “tricks” are mostly you being a grumpy little brat, though.

Ellie: You love it. Don’t lie. You love when I’m all possessive and weird with you.

You: Yeah, I kinda do. You just can’t get enough of me, huh?

Ellie: Yeah, well, if you’d stop being so damn cute, maybe I wouldn’t have to. But here we are, me constantly obsessed with you and you pretending you don’t love it.

You:Who’s pretending? I know you’re a complete mess without me. I’m basically your lifeline now.

Ellie:And don’t you forget it. You’re stuck with me, loser.

You:I’m not complaining. You’re stuck with me, too. Hope you’re ready for me to ruin your life in all the best ways.

Ellie:Babe, my life was already ruined before you came along. You just made it a lot more fun.

You: Good, because I’m only getting started.

Ellie: Can’t wait to ruin you, too.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

You: Hey, muscle-head. Got any room for me in that oversized hoodie of yours?

Abby: You want me to share my hoodie? Really? You know I could just pick you up and carry you around instead, right?

You: Ooooh, are you trying to flex on me? I think I’d rather just crawl into your lap and make you squirm instead.

Abby: Squirm? Babe, I can take whatever you dish out. It’s you who should be worried about that, not me.

You: Keep talking like that and you might make me want to test that theory… but I’ll let you have your little victory for now.

Abby: Victory? Pfft, I don’t need to try. You’re already obsessed with me. I know how this ends.

You: Yeah, obsessed, huh? You wish. I’m just here for the murderous cuddles and your questionable muscle flexing.

Abby: You love it. You know damn well you can’t resist this. Don’t act like you don’t wanna be tangled up with me right now.

You: Who says I’m acting? I’ll happily let you “tangle” me up. But I’m definitely not going easy on you.

Abby: You don’t have to go easy on me. I like when you push back. But don’t think for a second I’m not gonna win.

You: I’m not worried. I kinda like a challenge. You won’t know what hit you.

Abby:Bring it on, babe. I’ve got all the time in the world to prove who’s really in charge here.

You:You can try, but just know that when I win, I’ll expect a serious cuddle session… no complaints allowed.

Abby:Fine. But you better be ready for when I win. I’m claiming all the cuddle rights first.

You: Deal. Just don’t be mad when you end up in my arms instead of the other way around.

Abby: We’ll see about that, babe. We’ll see.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

[shanastoryteller]

so, you've been posting/reblogging about sam being the exception to the rules of "This is alright to do when everyone else does it/ It's not alright to do but we can do it to sam". Do you have any fanfic recs that throw that hat around? Like, they realize they were actually in the wrong? or some good fix it? some bad break it?

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

honestly not this fandom's strong suit. probably the most self indulgent part of see something say something is having dean accept that sam going to stanford wasn't a personal attack, was something he needed to do for himself, and the no contact trauma of it all was pretty much entirely john's fault. in canon he's literally betrayed by sam going to college until he DIES. he never chills or gives credit to the idea that sam deserved and needed space to grow outside of him

there are a couple "sam dies in the panic room" fics floating around out there, which are pretty good, but relatively short and sort of only deal with the immediate regret that dean feels because his brother is dead and not really because he understands how he fucked up

here are some that sort of qualify, but nothing that quite scratches the id for this in the exact way i'd like. unfortunately i think to really dig into this (for me) you've got to hit "sam was both saved and destroyed by dean's deal" and "dean came back wrong" right over the head before you can really deal with the repercussions of it. which is both hard and sort of an unpopular opinion! so i get it

feel free to drop your own recs if you have them!

Crossed Wires by rivkat (summary: A spnj2xmas gift for costsofregret, who liked angst, pining!Sam, one thinking the other is dead, and hurt/comfort. It’s like you know me.) sort of deals with the concept of sam's autonomy but it's pretty brief.

One Saved Message by ratherastory (summary: After a hunting accident puts Sam out of commission for a couple of days, Dean decides to surprise his brother with a new phone, since his old one is toast. Even better is when he finds that he’s been able to save all of Sam’s old information and restore it to his cell. That’s when he discovers an old voicemail that Sam has kept saved for the last two and a half years… Charity fic for help_japan. sinka won a fic from me and requested some Voicemail fix-it fic, and that is what I have attempted here. Spoilers for all aired episodes up to 6.19.) deals with the voicemail but not really all the actions dean took to make that voicemail believable

Paint Me a Monster by TheMarvelousTolkienJob (summary: Sam is a freak. He knows that and, after everything that happened with Ruby and the demon blood, Dean finally does too. Not that they actually talk about it or anything. No, they wait around for Sam to be kidnapped and tortured before they do that.) is a fic focused on all of this and it addresses the voicemail and the reasons the voicemail was believable but it doesn't end with anything so much resolved as it is at least in the open air. which is a perfectly good ending, i just want closure T_T

The Talking Cure by Mollyamory (Molly) (summary: Dean tries to keep his mouth shut, but as much as he wants to keep quiet, he also wants to say--) set immediately after season 8 with no gadreel. dean feels the need to reiterate what he said in the church

Soft Like a Blue Triceratops by sprinkles888 (summary: Sam finishes the trials, expecting to die. Instead, he gets a life that sounds idyllic - the demons locked away, the angels gone (mostly), and Dean by his side. All he has to worry about is the various monsters attempting to fill the power vacuum; a too-empty bunker; his own deteriorating mental health; Dean’s dive back into alcoholism; and not getting enough sleep (even for him). Oh yeah, and that pesky fact that his dreams are starting to seem a little bit too much like visions. He can handle it. He can. (Sometimes he can’t.) If this is healing, Sam sure doesn’t want to know what deterioration looks like. A season eight finale/post-season 8 AU) is probably the closest i've found that really comes down to grilling both on how messed up the brothers are and how it's taking a toll on sam specifically, but it doesn't really get into the double standards of it all. bold for emphasis is mine, because my god that's really the whole fic. great exploration of them, but it did hurt to read

not at all in the vein of the ask, but by the same author Sounds Like Truth and Feels Like Courage by sprinkles888 (summary: Turns out that the Men of Letters had a way to perform magic on the regular without the messiness of witchcraft. All they need for it is a pair of soulmates, a couple of rings from the bunker, and a willingness to spend time platonically touching. And, well, the Winchesters are already sitting at two out of three… (In which Sam and Dean cuddle, spend time being emotionally vulnerable, mend relationships, learn just how powerful their souls are, find power in memories, watch way too much Netflix, and become targets of an organized group of monsters set on killing them.)) is a comfy warm fic about the boys by the same author that i can reread without hurting my own feelings

[cautionwetspiralstaircase]

gonna be writing down some of my favourite bits from pili's out-of-character Q&A today ^^ here's him talking about his character's relationship with pangi and badboyhalo

(source: Dtowngato 22 Jan 2025 TALKING ABOUT MY CHARACTER The Realm SMP --- ( Main Account @/dtowncat ), around 1h9min)

Pili: Talking about Pangi and Pili... I feel like my character definitely senses that Pangi has some sort of, like, feelings (...) that aren’t actually mentioned directly. And he feels like- cause a lot of people are like “Why is Pili flirting with a million people when Pangi is there? Like he doesn’t see that Pangi is literally giving so many clues and things, and (...)”. That’s where the avoidant attachment thing goes through, because since he sees these other things (Pili flirting with everyone) as little silly games (...) and just being silly and whimsical... It’s like, when he’s with Pangi, he knows that Pangi may actually mean it. (...) And that’s where he gets like kinda- push him away, or whatever. 

It’s just like... complicated. So since he doesn’t really want that to happen, he doesn’t really actually want a romantic relationship- (...) that’s where he kinda starts pushing Pangi away. And I feel like a great example for this is that my character does not want deep emotions or attachments to anyone. To anyone at all. Even Pangi. And that’s why he hates him, in a way, and that’s why he calls him his weakness. Because for example, the reason why to this point I feel like my character has been more comfortable with Badboyhalo, telling him more secret things, being more open to him, is because I think my character and Badboyhalo both understand themselves very well in that aspect. And he also knows that Badboyhalo won’t actually get a deep attachment to him. Like if he dies, he knows Badboyhalo will be like “Aww, that’s sad” and then he’ll just move on with his life. Cause that’s kinda like his normal thing to do. He knows that if something happens and he has to ditch Badboyhalo, he won’t have some sort of explosive emotional reaction to it, and he won’t throw his life away, he’ll just keep going. Which I think that’s why right now my character and Badboyhalo are very close, even closer than Pangi and Pili. 

For example, on the first divorce arc, Pangi- it was also kind of a test, because Pili knew that he was gonna go fight people, that he may not come out alive. And he was trying to push him away so Pangi wouldn’t do something stupid to try and save him. (...) Because he knew that Badboyhalo wouldn’t do anything to save him. That’s the difference, okay? Because he knew that Pangi would be dumb enough to act emotionally and try to stop the fight or do something to stop it or like, if he died, he would go crazy. And I think Pangi proved my character’s point, which was- when he tried to push him away, he was like “Alright, that’s it, I’m killing everyone, I’m ending the world, and I’m ending myself”. Which my character really doesn’t like that sort of- thing. 

My character knows that he’s not a good person, he knows that he’s not done good things, he knows that sometimes he’s an asshole, and... he knows that he has insanely self-destructive tendencies. He just has this sort of thing where he keeps putting himself to suffer and suffer and suffer, and that’s part of how he is, all the time. And he knows that Pangi won’t take that well, and Pangi will be like “No, Pili! You don’t need to die! I’ll die if you die!” And that kinda rubs him the wrong way, which is also why he kinda has been more distant with Pangi I think. It’s just too complicated, really. It definitely hurts, cause he definitely knows that he has a weak spot for Pangi and vice versa, and they’re definitely some sort of like, platonic soulmates type of situation.

(chatter mentions his conversation with Pangi on Clown’s tower about not wanting Pangi to avenge him) Yeah. He’s just like, dude, I want to do this, and I’ve been doing this for so long, you don’t need to avenge me, you don’t need to go into this villain arc just because I wanted this thing. (...) That’s why nowadays he- I don’t know if you guys noticed, but my character barely tells any secrets to Pangi, and tells everything to Badboyhalo. Which is odd, cause I feel like technically Pangi and Pili were the closer ones, but it’s more like that kind of- avoidant attachment thing. That is just like pushing him away, in a way. So Pangi doesn’t get hurt, or get involved too much into it.

(chatter suggests that tr!Pili doesn’t like others showing too much emotion) I feel like it’s also a thing like, for example, with Clown, he knows that it’s one-sided, and he likes it being one-sided. Because he- it’s also this thing like, I don’t know how to translate it, but you get the love that you think you deserve. (...) So basically it’s just more like he feels like Pangi is too good for him, and he doesn’t deserve that type of good attention or things. And that’s why he’s always saying like “Oh you should move on with your life, you should find someone else that actually can give you what you probably deserve, because I’m not that person (...). Because I don’t have that sort of behaviour and I don’t have that sort of tendencies and I don’t have that sort of things”. 

(chatter asks how tr!Pili would react to Badboyhalo also becoming strongly attached to him) I feel like in the same way, it would definitely start rubbing him the wrong way.

(chatter suggests that he also pushes Pangi away and refuses to become attached because of his mental health) Yeah. Definitely that is true, I feel like my character has definitely suffered a lot and there’s a lotta traumas and things (...) inside. So I feel like he has repeated the cycle so many times, and (...) he doesn’t wanna keep repeating it anymore. He’s down to suffer and be in pain and whatever, be a masochist, just not that route when it implies other people are involved and (...) suffering because of him. 

(chatter suggests that Badboyhalo has more predictable reactions to secrets while there are more unknowns with Pangi, and more secrets that might cause Pangi to take immediate action) I don’t know. I don’t know how- Pangi is sometimes too chill about this. I think Pangi definitely has a lot of trust in Mocha (note: mocha is his character (the cat)'s name, although ofc everyone on the realm just uses "pili").

[wrongtvrns]

"Alright," the broad, thick man sighed with a playfully petulant gesture of his arms flapping at his sides, "I guess I'm gonna have to be the one that teaches you." That came from a man that wasn't qualified to teach anyone anything other than some survival skills for a venture into the wilderness. Which was why she should laugh but then she'd admitted to not being great at reading the room. "So, no awareness at all? Just that uncaring about anything going on around you?" Especially your people, he'd wanted to add but refrained. Bear had sensed something deeper to her comment about commitment. "I wonder why that is these days." People's attention span, lack thereof, seemed to have crossed into all aspects of life. "Used to be that people valued relationships and now it's all hookup culture and fleeting short lived romances." It was a negative turn in evolution, in his humble opinion. Also why he stayed away from people even more these days, he didn't want to be dragged into that.

With a coffee refill in hand, thanks Mary, Bear listened on as the brunette beside him spoke about far off places. Destinations he's only see in print or on his tv. Not that he turned it on much. "Paris and Tokyo I'd think would be unforgettable experiences for far more than a touristy trip." Bear smiled at her, the woman beside him had achieved a lot in her young age. "What was your favorite thing you saw?" For a man that loved sights it was an expected question. Not that she knew that about him. "Oh," a low rumble of a chuckle rustled up his throat and Bear set his mug on the counter, "I haven't really been to much. I've traveled up north mostly and some places around the country... for the job."

The sound of his fork lightly grazing his plate filled the space for a brief moment. The hungry Bear took a few bites of food before he jumped back into the conversation with Leti. "I know you're kidding and all but please don't get lost out there. Especially in this cold. I know you're from California and aren't quite aware of the dangers of hypothermia, so yeah... I'm your company." In a way, it was always more enjoyable to traverse familiar trails with someone seeing them with fresh eyes, for the first time. He went back to eating, nodding his head as he shoveled forkfuls of the hearty meal in front of him into his mouth. "Do you enjoy break or are you one of those people that needs to constantly be doing something?" Bear thought about it for a second but ended up shrugging. "I'm always busy so you just tell me when and I'll make it happen." It was up to her really when she felt motivated to get out there in the wilderness in this cold.

"She taught me a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them," she teased through a small grin. Her mother had taught her something of the sort, but it was too fun to tease and truth was, she needed something to smile about. Had she known that she could've found it in the form of a vertically gifted man with a solid sense of humor and a charming wits about him, she would've rolled into the diner way earlier than she had. "I'm terrible at reading the room. Also pretty terrible at commitment on various levels," she admitted, somewhat as a joke, somewhat as a validation to her insecurities. Her relationship with Kira hadn't been the only thing she'd lost in the whirlwind of false narratives and silence on her end.

Leti offered another smile at his confirmation, a small, halfhearted nod following. She missed that about San Diego, the food, the people, her family. The midfielder blew out a huff of air as she considered his question. Coolest place she'd been? That was a tough one to nail. "Paris was cool. Tokyo would've been cooler had we gotten to be tourists," she trailed off, not wanting to mention what had kept them locked into the Olympic village for their stay. "But, if I had to pick, I'd say the Netherlands. It's gorgeous and there's a lot to see. What about you? Coolest place you've ever been?"

Fingers danced against the side of her ceramic mug, her gaze practically glued to the man she was slowly learning about. "Oh, I've never felt more special," she countered with a lazy wink and quiet chuckle. She only tore her eyes off him long enough to thank the waitress for the refill. By the end of it, she'd have enough coffee in her veins to keep her up for a week straight. "As much as I'd like to get lost out there for awhile, I'd appreciate the company." For once, she didn't want to run from her problems. Not that she considered breathing the same air as her ex a problem. If anything, it felt more being at home again. "Well, off season ends soon, which means back to training before the regular season kicks off. Until then, it's just me and whatever I want to do. What does it look like for a park ranger right now?"

[rayyanishere1]

A Day in the Life of a Loser: Loser Ford AU

Chapter 4: Science Fair

25th April 1970

Good morning, my dearest diary! Today is the day of the science fair!

I managed to finish my perpetual motion machine just in time and it's completely functional. All I have to do now is safely transport it to the school. I'm gonna win first place, I'm sure of it!

All the other participants had already set up their projects a few days ago, but I'm sure there's still a few good spots left. Just hope I don't have to take the dingy spot with the ceiling leak.

Well, I'm off! Time to blow those judges' socks off!

∆∆∆

"Sixer! Are you ready or not?"

"Yes, yes, coming!"

Ford looked at himself in the mirror and for once, didn't completely hate himself. Hell, he felt proud!

He rushed outside to Stan and loaded his project into the cargo. It was still moving, as a perpetual motion machine should.

"You're excited, aren't you?"

"Of course! How could I not be?"

Stan laughed and ruffled his brother's hair. Ford protested, complaining that he spent a while making his hair look good.

"It doesn't matter how you look, nerd. Your motion-whatever-machine—"

"Perpetual motion machine!"

"Yeah, that, if what you said about it being 'impossible' to make is true, you've got a fortune under your belt."

"You really think so?"

"I know so."

Ford carefully carried his project into the school's gymnasium and scanned for a place to set up. Nothing much he can see from here...

Wandering around the many tables, he failed to find a spot for himself. There had to be at least one place, right?

Just as he dreaded. The only empty space was a dark, dingy area with the leak in the ceiling.

Well, no turning back now. He reluctantly set his machine on the table and covered it with a tablecloth so that it wouldn't get wet. Who knows what could happen if it did!

"Ford, help me out over here!"

Hearing his brother in need of assistance, he rushed over.

Drip, drip, drip.

The judges roamed the gymnasium, taking note of the sheer amount of baking soda volcanoes. They should just ban them at this point.

∆∆∆

Things seem to be going well. The judges don't look impressed at the other presentations. Lots of baking soda volcanoes.

Oh, I see them! Are they skipping my table?

∆∆∆

"Hey! Aren't you going to judge mine?"

Oh, the poor thing, they hadn't even noticed him! The judges walked over, seeing how the area was... Less than appealing.

Ford pulled out a fairly thick stack of cue cards and hyped up his project.

"For millennia, people tried and failed to create perpetual motion machines. But here with you today is—!"

Dramatically, he yanked the tablecloth away to reveal his perpetual motion machine! Except for the fact that it wasn't in motion.

"Wait, what? What happened to my machine?!"

He frantically looked over it, trying to figure why his perpetual motion machine had stopped.

"Perpetual motion means nonstop, isolated movement, kid. It violates the first few laws of thermodynamics."

"Try again next year."

How could this have happened? It was working just this morning, and the days before that! It literally never stopped! That was the whole point!

As Ford desperately searched, he felt a drop of cold water fall on his head.

Sure enough, the tablecloth hadn't completely protected his machine from the dripping water above.

So close, Ford. So close.

A familiar set of footsteps came up behind him.

"Hey, Ford? You alright? Where are the judges?"

Ford failed to compose himself in time and broke down. He barely forced out a few words between sobs and hiccups as Stan tried to decipher his gargled speech.

Soon enough, Ford gave up on verbal communication and gestured to his broken machine. He wiped his tears, trying to get a good look at it.

There seemed to be some exposed circuitry on the back. How had he never noticed that?

He reached out towards it and promptly got shocked. Right, wet hand. Not a great idea to touch exposed electronics.

"Ow!"

Ford quickly retracted his hand, wincing in pain. God, today was a gift that kept on giving. Not in a good way, but you get the point.

Stan rushed to Ford's side, making sure he wasn't seriously injured. He's no expert, but an electrical shock didn't sound good.

"Let's just get outta here."

He led them both outside and back to Stan's car. Being in a more private space, Ford's waterworks restarted at full force.

"Everything was going so well! I told everyone that I was going to win—I was! I did the impossible! I forgot to tighten a few loose screws and now everything's ruined—"

He rambled on and on about how he messed up everything, how stupid he was for not noticing such a thing, the whole shebang.

There was really no room for Stan to interject and stop Ford from spiralling seeing as he was talking a mile a minute.

Stan opted to wait it out.

He drove them to the nearest convenience store and got them snacks. Jellybeans for Ford and Toffee Peanuts for himself.

"You feelin' better, bud?"

"No."

Honestly? Stan expected that answer.

Ford stared off into space, not bothering to eat his jellybeans.

"Wanna go home?"

That seemed to snap him out of his trance.

"What's Pa gonna think of all this? What are we gonna tell him?"

Welcome back, panic! Didn't miss you whatsoever!

"He's gonna find out eventually... I'll talk to him."

On the drive home, Ford looked outside the window. He eyed the beach, thinking, how difficult would it be to swim from New Jersey to Europe?

"We're here."

Seems like Filbrick wasn't home yet. That's good! I guess?

Ford bolted upstairs without a word. He needed to unwind. Write in his diary. Anything.

He was practically scribbling on the pages with how fast and sloppily he was writing. His thoughts went faster than his hand, even the ink in the damn pen couldn't keep up.

∆∆∆

Today did not go as planned. A leak in the gymnasium's ceiling made it's way inside my machine and blew it's circuits.

I humiliated myself in front of the judges.

I humiliated myself.

∆∆∆

It was only when tears started to fall on the page did Ford realize he was crying. Again.

Maybe he should just go to bed.

[thefrogdalorian]

Sometimes The Mandalorian skips scenes at the most infuriating times and leaves us with burning questions.

For instance in Chapter 7, when IG-11 brings tea into Kuiil's house. He's clearly carrying THREE cups (for Din, Cara and Kuiil).

Din was probably sat there under his helmet like this:

I can imagine him sitting there getting increasingly frustrated and thinking to himself: "They know I can't remove my helmet in the presence of others, why do *I* have a cup????"

I mean, he hated IG-11 so much at that point that he probably wouldn't have wanted it anyway... but now I have the mental image of Din awkwardly grabbing a cup, ducking through Kuiil's tiny door and sipping his tea outside like a polite house guest 🍵

It's the little things, you know?

[hauntingblue]

Rewatching act 2.... yeah ISHA WATCH OUT FOR THE CYCLE ISHA!!!!! NOOOOO

[thornheartless]

Feeling very out of place with people, the world. I don't know. Like I talk too much but end up being quiet at the wrong times.

[anirudhpisharody]

.

[rowarn]

IF YOU NEEDED ME !

simon riley/reader – 7.1k words sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, childhood best friend!simon, virginity for sale trope, unrealized feelings, soft!simon, protective!simon, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader

cw: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, wet & messy, fingering, creampie, mid-sex love confession, a little arguing but nothing crazy tbh, petnames (love, lovie, sweetheart)

; he remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. he never thought he was deserving of such happiness. but now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you.

or.

he may not have been the first man you picked to give your first time to. but looking back, you realized he was the only right choice in the end.

Meeting some unknown, shady guy out on the street outside of a seedy bar wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve ever made. Nor was it how you actually intended to spend your Friday evening. But it was the only option you had at the moment, so you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to stay put at the spot the guy had chosen despite the fact that being out on the street made you feel x10 more nervous and vulnerable. 

You could hear the loud music and chatter inside the bar every time the door opened to let someone in or out. There was a chill in the air that had you contemplating actually going inside and just telling the guy to meet you in there – you were about to give the bastard your damn virginity, the least he could be was accommodating to your temperature struggles. Plus, you could really use a drink.

A car, expensive by the looks of it, pulling up to the curb had you pausing in that train of thought. You recognized him from his profile picture when he stepped out of the vehicle – Lucas, you recall being his name. Whether that was really his name or not didn’t matter; all that mattered was he brought what he promised.

“You have the money?” you asked when he approached you, giving him a tight-lipped smile as a greeting.

“Yeah, got it in the car. All cash, I hope that’s alright,” he grinned, a sight that made a shiver go down your spine. His tone didn’t match the smile, all transactional and dull despite the glimmer in his eyes.

He wasn’t necessarily unattractive but he certainly wasn’t your type. There was a look in his eyes, one that made your skin crawl because you felt like you were nothing but a piece of raw meat in front of a starving, salivating predator. 

“We should get going,” he said, hurrying to open the backseat of his car for you.

You paused, “Aren’t we going to go inside or something?”

He looked confused, grip on the door tightening for a moment before he bursted out laughing. When he saw the shocked look on your face he sobered up, “Sorry, sorry, that was rude of me. Sweetheart, this isn’t a date. I’m just here to get what I paid for.”

“Oh…” you swallowed around the lump in your throat at the condescending tone, humiliation making your cheeks burn, “Right.”

Tears stung the back of your eyes and you quickly averted your gaze so he wouldn’t see how much that stung. Of course, you knew it wasn’t a date. This was a transaction. But you at least thought you’d get to know the guy who was about to take your virginity. You should have known better.

A man who was paying for your virginity wasn’t bound to be someone you could trust to feel comfortable around. You quietly sigh, resigning yourself to this all for the sake of some fucking money. 

You settle into the car, heart jumping into your throat when the door slams. It feels as if you’ve just sealed your fate and you can’t deny that you’re scared. 

But there’s an envelope next to you that you can see stuffed with bills and you clench your fists, trying to calm your racing heart by closing your eyes and breathing. 

You just hope this decision doesn’t cost you your life or something. You’d hate to imagine what that would do to a certain someone.

Suddenly, the car jostles. Your eyes snap open and you see Lucas is jacked up against the side of the car, a very familiar form caging him in. His scarred hands grip the man’s shirt in tight fists. You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can see Lucas is chattering frantically, gesturing wildly with his hands in an attempt to quell the angry man in the skull balaclava. 

You curse to yourself, a different kind of terror shocking through your system. Lucas is thrown to the side and you wince at how hard he hits the pavement before the car door is jerked open.

You can’t even say anything before a strong, rough hand wraps around your arm, yanking you out. You stumble once you’re on your feet, falling right into his chest. 

You try to pull away but his arm clamps down around you. 

Lucas is cursing and screaming his head off, words you don’t even bother to try and decipher because you’re too preoccupied with the masked figure that made his sudden appearance. Nerves make your knees shake and from the look of pure rage in his eyes, you know you’re in deep shit. 

Lucas opens the car door and slams it before driving off, tires squealing against the pavement before he vanishes. Along with that wad of cash that was going to be yours in just a short time. 

Suddenly you’re angry, shoving your hands against his chest to get him away from you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Riley?!” you shriek, shooting him the fiercest glare you could muster.

“I should be askin’ you that,” he sneers, “The hell were you doin’ with that prick?”

“I–”

“Don’t answer that,” he snaps, cutting you off swiftly, “I know what you were doin’. If you needed money that badly you should have told me.”

“It’s not your concern, Simon!” you cry, resisting the urge to petulantly stomp your foot.

You’re so pissed. 

Simon Riley and you went way back, childhood friends. The two of you had always been in each other's lives. Simon especially was always there when you needed him, a beacon of safety and protection. Your best friend and someone you loved to the ends of the Earth. 

But right now, you’re so angry with him that you can’t seem to think straight.

How dare he show up now, when you’re about to do the most humiliating act of your entire life. How could he show his stupid, masked face here when you didn’t even ask for his help in the first place for a reason. 

“You are always my concern,” he shoots back, scarred knuckles turning white from how hard he clenches his fists, “I have always taken care of you. You should have come to me for help instead of puttin’ yourself in danger like this. You didn’t know that guy, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Anger makes your skin hot, sweat beading on your forehead, blocking out the chill that once made goosebumps rise. You feel ashamed that you were caught in this situation – that the man you’ve known your entire life knew you were about to sleep with some random asshole for a fat wad of cash. You don’t like that he’s made you feel ashamed and confronted you with it.

“Just fuck off, Simon!” you shriek, the only thing you can think of before turning on your heel and stalking away from him.

You don’t glance over your shoulder to check if he’s following because you know he most likely is – from a safe distance to make sure you make it inside your apartment alright but far enough that you can’t get mad at him for it. Your jaw is clenched so tightly that you feel a headache radiating down your neck. 

By the time you reach your apartment, the anger has simmered and all you’re left with is a festering shame that makes tears fill your eyes. You wrap your arms around yourself and quickly shuffle yourself inside, not bothering to check if Simon is out there or not. All you want is to get a hot shower and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend. 

You do just that, letting the burning hot water scald your skin until you can’t feel any emotions except exhaustion. And then, you crawl into bed and let sleep overtake you without a second thought. 

When you wake up, it’s clear that it’s late into the afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and shining painfully bright through the crack in your curtains. You groan and roll over, slapping the bed to find your phone. 

You grab the device and unlock it, taking a moment to scroll through your notifications. There’s some angry messages from the guy from last night – cursing you out for setting him up to be jumped. It makes you roll your eyes before a particular notification catches your eye.

It’s from your bank – alerting you of a deposit. 

You sit up straight in your bed, brows furrowed before your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see your bank statement. It’s more than you needed and you know exactly who was responsible. 

You jump out of bed, not even bothering to dress out of your pajamas before you’re shoving some slides onto your feet and storming out of your apartment. 

You’re so heated that you can’t even remember the walk to Simon’s place, your mind racing a million miles a second. You storm up to the door and slam your fist on it, the hard wood making your hand sting from how hard you pound. 

The radiating tingle of pain is quickly forgotten when the door swings open. 

Simon stands there, looking down at you expectantly. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He wears an army-issued t-shirt that’s a bit too tight. The sleeves stretch taunt around his biceps and you can make out the swell of his pecs. It’s not very often that you get to see his tattooed arms, littered with scars since he tends to wear long sleeves most of the time. 

He doesn’t look at all surprised to see you, clearly having expected you. The apathetic look in his eyes just solidifies that you were right all along.

“What the hell is your problem?!” you cry without so much as a greeting.

He sighs, broad shoulders rising and falling with it before he opens the door wide and motions you inside. You duck underneath his outstretched arm, turning to watch as he closes the door and locks it. 

He wanders into the kitchen and you realize you can smell bacon. He doesn’t seem at all surprised by your outburst nor does he seem interested in acknowledging your question.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, only solidifying how unperturbed he is by your display of anger. 

“No!” you snap, “I want to know why you did that, Simon!”

He sighs again, much louder but doesn’t respond. You stand in the doorway to his kitchen, watching him plate his lunch – which is actually just breakfast food. He places the dish on the table and pauses, looking up at you.

“You needed the money, I had it,” he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I was handling it on my own,” you say, “I-It was my problem to solve.”

“By sellin’ yourself to some prick?” he snarls, the anger he was masking coming out in a flurry.

“I wasn’t selling myself–” you refute but he slams his palms down on the table. His cutlery clatters with the action and you jump.

“I read that post you made,” he hisses, teeth bared, “There’s no fuckin’ reason you should be selling your virginity for some cash when I was right here the whole time!”

Your cheeks burn when he brings up your virginity, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “I-It’s mine to sell if I want to! I needed that money!”

“And now you have it,” he says with finality. 

He takes a seat and you stand there, fuming. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together as your mind races to find a rebuttal. He begins to eat, taking large, fast bites that just shows how he’s been conditioned to eat quickly by the military. 

“That’s not the point, Simon,” you huff, growing less angry and more frustrated by this conversation. You were just going around in circles. 

“Then what is the point?” he snaps, snatching his empty plate and angrily tossing it in the sink. He turns to you again, a frown evident on his face, “You got the money you needed safely. That’s all that matters.”

“It’s too much money, Simon!” you cry, “I was selling something in exchange for it!”

“I care about you,” he says, “That doesn’t matter to me. What’s mine is yours, you know that.”

You silently glare at him, wishing that the heated stare would get through to him. He stands unbothered, staring blankly at you with his fists clenched by his sides.

You hang your head, sighing, “I-I can’t take your money, Simon, alright? I’m already in debt and I’m not going to be in debt to you of all people.”

“You feel like you owe me, is that it?” he asks.

You nod your head, heart rate spiking when he stalks towards you. You’re close enough to smell his body wash and aftershave, a painfully familiar scent that you adore. He stares down his nose at you, brown eyes lidded and lazy. 

He reaches out suddenly, rough hand gripping your cheeks, smushing them together until your lips pucker, “Then give me a kiss as payment.”

“H-Huh?” you whimper dumbly, eyes wide in shock as his face grows closer and closer.

“It can be payment for a kiss, lovie,” he coos, syrupy sweet and soft, “Will that make up for it, then?”

The air in your lungs suddenly doesn’t feel like enough. This is a man that you’ve known almost your entire life so you’ve obviously thought about him in a romantic sense at some point. Hell, when you were a teenager you even had a crush on him. But he never once looked at you any other way than as a friend so you quickly got over it – or maybe that’s just what you told yourself. Because as you stand there, staring into his eyes, you realize that kissing him would feel like a dream come true. 

You find yourself nodding despite the inner turmoil going on in your head. Simon huffs through his nose before leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. 

There’s a shock of electricity that goes through you at the contact. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean into the kiss, letting him take over. He works his lips expertly against yours, eventually abandoning his hold on your face in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. You gasp into the kiss when he suddenly yanks you closer, your body pressed close against his. 

He’s warm and sturdy against you, a solid form of muscle that makes you feel safe and content – just as he always has. His hands are big and rough as they grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh there as he gets lost in kissing you. 

“S-Si,” you find yourself muttering without realizing.

He hums in response, chuckling when you continue to mindlessly kiss him. He pulls back, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, thumbing at your jaw as your eyes slowly focus on him, “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“I-I don’t…” you swallow thickly around the forming lump in your throat, “I don’t know. I just…”

“Show me,” he breathes, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. 

The sweet, tender look in his big, brown eyes is what gives you the courage to grab his wrist, leading it just under the hem of your shirt so he can touch your bare stomach. You give him a shy glance from under your lashes, hoping he’ll get the hint that you want more. 

You want him.

Simon, in all his experienced wisdom, understands immediately what it is you’re aching for. His hand travels up further, pausing at your ribs, just under the swell of your breast. Your heart hammers in your chest when your gaze meets his. His eyes are lidded, long lashes obscuring his pupils but still burning into you. 

He stares deep into your eyes, waiting for any sign of hesitation as his fingers creep higher and higher. You suck in a breath when he cups your breast in his palm, squeezing lightly to feel their weight. 

A large, calloused thumb creeps up, passing ever so softly over your nipple until the bud peaks and hardens under the attention. You sigh at the feeling, new shocks washing over you that you’ve never experienced before. 

Sure, you played with yourself plenty – you had a healthy masturbation life, you’d say. But you’d always just been focused on reaching an orgasm, never on the build up. You imagine, however, it would never feel as good by yourself as it does with him.

He pinches your nipple between two fingers and you whine, lips parting as the sound escapes. Simon takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your hands grab his shoulders, desperately clinging to his shirt as you lose yourself in the sloppy kiss. 

Drool drips down your chin – it's messy and hot between the two of you. His hand switches to your other breast to give it the same attention as the other. You tremble in his arms, overcome by the insatiable throbbing between your thighs. 

You shift on your feet, the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your core. You’re so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. By the time he pulls back, there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. 

“You want more?” he asks, voice gravelly as he speaks, as if he’s drunk. You nod your head and he clicks his tongue, “You gotta tell me, sweetheart.”

“I-I want more, Si,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks burn as you admit it. 

“Let’s go,” he hums, taking your hand in his as he leads you around the couch towards the hallway.

“Where?” you ask dumbly, hoping that making some kind of conversation would ease the nerves steadily building in your chest. 

“The bedroom,” he responds, stroking his thumb over the top of your hand as if he can sense that you’re nervous, “Wouldn’t want to be stripped down in the middle of the living room, I imagine.”

“N-No,” you squeak, cheeks burning even hotter at those words. 

You’re going to be naked. In front of another person for the first time. In front of him. Simon. 

“There now, lovie,” he whispers as he shuts his bedroom door behind the both of you. He takes your waist in his hands, kneading the soft flesh there, “It’s alright.”

“I-I’m just–”

“Nervous,” he finishes for you, smiling softly when you nod, “I know. We can stop anytime you’d like.”

“I don’t want to,” you rush out, hands coming up to press against his firm chest, “Just…d-don’t be upset when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

The tender way he looks at you sets your heart pounding like a little rabbit. A ghost a smile appears on his lips, “I would never do somethin’ like that.”

“I-I know, I just…” you look down at your feet only for him to catch your chin in his fingers, pulling you to look up at him.

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, holding your breath as he descends down. His lips find yours all over again, as exhilarating and mind-melting as the first time. 

Just the sweet, deep kiss he gives you has your nerves dissipating a bit – back to normal levels. You no longer feel the desire to flee, you just feel an intense longing and anticipation. You crave more from him.

As if sensing this, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. He slowly starts to pull it up, agonizingly slow. But you’re grateful for it, it gives you time to prepare before you’re bared completely to him. You lift your arms for him, a sign that you’re still okay with this. 

He pulls it up over your head and lets the fabric drop to the floor. But he doesn’t look down, he continues looking in your eyes, softly pecking your lips as his hands cup your breasts once more. 

When you sigh and lean into his touch, he finally lets himself break the eye contact. He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees how pretty your tits sit in his hands. He touches them softly, sweetly brushing over your nipples in admiration. 

“Perfect tits, lovie,” he coos, chuckling when you whine in embarrassment. 

His head descends, pink lips parting to take one of your nipples in his mouth. It’s hot but his tongue is soft when it circles and flicks at the bud. He sucks, popping off lewdly before switching to the other one. 

The sensation makes you squeeze your thighs together, imaging what that would feel like around your clit. Your hole clenches around nothing, drooling messily into your panties. The fabric was so wet by now that it couldn’t soak it up anymore, leaving it to slick up your thighs instead.

Your core ached, a feeling only Simon would be able to soothe. 

“Please, Si,” you finally break, whimpering pathetically. 

He detaches from your breast, lips wet and swollen from the worship he had been giving your now sore nipples. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing brown and you were sure that yours looked the same. 

He stands to his full height, nudging you backwards until your knees hit the bed. They buckled at that, leaving you to fall back against the bed. Simon’s bedding was soft, the scent of detergent and his own body wash filling your senses. You relax at the familiar, comforting scent, sinking into the blankets with a bashful smile on your face.

To Simon, you’re an ethereal beauty. You take the air right out of his lungs with the way you look at him.

He remembers the way you would look at him when you were children, all smiles and bright eyes. He never thought he was deserving of such happiness. But now, with you shyly covering your bare breasts, in his bed, he feels like he’s the only man deserving of you. 

He scooches you up the bed, crawling on after you until he’s on top of you. Though you’re still wearing your pants, you feel so vulnerable beneath his weight. He’s heavy and warm and he smells so good. You can’t focus on anything except for him – he’s all around you and it’s exhilarating. 

Feeling bold, you reach up and tug at his shirt. He pulls it off with ease, revealing his toned, scarred upper body. You can’t help but trace over some of the ones you’re familiar with – there’s one from a time he fell out of a tree trying to rescue a cat that you had been crying about. He fell out of the tree on the way down, a jagged branch stabbing into his upper arm and slicing it open. There was another one from when you were teenagers, some other kids jumped him and he took a stab to his shoulder trying to protect you. You kiss that one and he softens, as if he’s remembering it too. 

He’s always been there for you, an overwhelming presence that you simply couldn’t live without. The fact you’re here, in this bed, about to give him your virginity is something that you never would have expected. 

And to think, you were planning to sell it off to some random loser. 

“I’m glad you stopped me,” you find yourself whispering. 

He looks confused for a second before he hums, nodding in understanding, “I am too.”

“I-I want it to be you, Si,” you whisper, the confession leaving you embarrassed. It’s true, all this time, you realize, he’s all you’ve ever really wanted. You had just buried it deep down so you no longer felt those sparks towards him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispers back, as if the two of you are sharing some secret little moment that no one else can hear about even though it’s just the two of you in this room. 

“You always do,” you respond, the words making his dark eyes light up. 

He kisses you deeply, moving his lips slowly against yours. When your hands come up to grip the back of his neck, he takes that as his cue to move down to your neck, then your collarbones, down the center of your chest between your breasts, the spot between your breasts, and finally your navel. 

You lay back, head in his pillows with your hands on either side of your head. You watch him, breathing labored as you wait for his next move. He pauses in his path, looking up through his lashes at you before his fingers find the hem of your sweats. You swallow thickly, holding your breath when he slowly begins to pull the fabric down. You lift your hips to help him, pulling your legs free while being careful not to kick him by accident. 

He keeps his gaze on you until you’re settled back down into the bed and the pants are forgotten on the floor to be collected later. Then, he looks down. 

Even though you still have your panties on, you know that the white cotton is soaked through and hides absolutely nothing from his view. 

You watch as he licks his lips, as if his mouth is suddenly bone dry. His hands are burning hot when he touches you again, sliding over your thighs to your hips. He leans down, pressing his lips against each of your thighs. 

His thumb reaches down, stretches over your pubic bone to touch the sticky fabric. You nearly jump at the sensation – someone’s fingers other than your own touching you there for the first time. Simon’s fingers.

As if he can’t help himself anymore, he tugs the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs. You squeal when you’re jostled under the force. 

He holds the material up and you’re mortified to see just how wet they are. He runs his thumbs over the crotch and you whine, drawing his attention from them. He drops them to the floor and returns his hands back to you, gripping underneath your knees, so he can spread you all the way open. 

Your hands fly to your face, covering your eyes in embarrassment at how exposed you are. He doesn’t seem to mind, pressing a kiss over the top of your hands before moving back down your body. 

You peek through your fingers only to find him already staring at you with a sparkle in his eyes. He carefully spreads your slippery folds apart with his thumbs, the movement causing a wet, sticky sound to emanate from between your legs. The little bud of your clit is hard and twitching as it’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. When he’s sure you’re looking he leans down, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. You stop breathing as you watch a fat glob of spit roll down the surface of the smooth muscle and splatter right on your clit. 

“Si-!” your squeal of his name is cut off when your eyes roll back in his head as that sinful tongue slides right over your bud. 

Your whole body twitches at that, hands falling away from your face so you can reach down and grab his hair. It doesn’t even seem like he notices your grip, focused on slurping up that sensitive nub into his hot mouth. 

You choke out a moan, tilting your head back into the pillows as your back arches. It feels just as good as you thought it would when he was giving the same, lewd treatment to your nipples. 

He continues to suck and lick your clit until your mind is completely blank and all you can think is him. Then, all at once it stops and he pulls back, letting your bud slip from the heavenly clutch of his lips.

“You ever have somethin’ inside you, lovie?” he asks, bringing up one of his fingers to swipe through the folds of your entrance, as if to show you what he intends. 

You swallow to moisten your throat before nodding, “J-Just my fingers.”

“How many?” he asks, growing more confident in prodding at the tight little hole. 

“T-Two,” you breathe, any embarrassment you felt long dissipated in the face of true pleasure.

“Alright, lovie,” he hums, “Just lay back, I’ll take good care of you, yeah?”

You nod and do as he says, turning utterly boneless against the blankets. The sweat already slicking your skin despite the fact you’ve only just begun makes the fabric stick to you. 

He prods at your entrance for only a second longer before finally, he pushes his thick middle digit inside you. Your cunt is so wet and pliant that it hungrily swallows it up to the very last knuckle. You clench around it intentionally, getting used to the feeling of the foreign finger inside of you for the first time. 

It feels so different compared to your own, thicker and rougher. The sensation is so strange but you can’t say you don’t like it – in fact, it feels amazing. You already want another, feeling like one just isn’t enough to give you that unknown feeling you’re chasing. It’s like you have an itch that needs to be scratched and only Simon can do it for you. 

As if sensing this, ever the reliable one, he carefully introduces a second finger. The stretch is unfamiliar, a burn around your entrance following as he reaches the last knuckle on that one too. His middle and ring finger stuffed snuggly inside your gooey little cunt as you whine and squirm from the feeling. 

Once you’ve adjusted, he slowly begins working them in and out of you. You slick up his fingers easily, streaks of creamy white coating his skin and making his mouth water. When he crooks his fingers up suddenly, prodding at that tender little spot inside of you, your entire body twitches and the most beautiful moan rips from your chest. 

He can’t resist leaning down and trapping your pulsing little clit under the flat of his tongue. He doesn’t slurp it into his mouth like before, instead, he just licks over it, pressing it down with the muscle. Your eyes are rolled up and your mouth hangs open as you moan and moan, tugging mindlessly at his hair as he works you towards your orgasm. 

It grows and grows, the unrelenting pleasure of his fingers fucking deeply into you and his tongue lapping sloppily at your clit like a mutt driving that knot in your belly to tighten. Drool spills out around his tongue, slipping down to meet his fingers where he easily fucks it into you – the added lubrication not needed but so very welcome with how much wetter and messier it makes you. 

“S-Simon…” you pant, gasping to catch your breath as the pleasure makes it hard for you to even think. 

He glances up at you through his lashes but doesn’t offer any other acknowledgement. There’s a knowing look in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s going to wring this orgasm out of your little cunt whether you like it or not. 

And fuck, do you love it. 

The orgasms you brought yourself in the deep of the night, little hands stuffed down your panties as you played with your clit and stuffed yourself with your own fingers was nothing like what you were experiencing now. Simon’s thick fingers and hot tongue were torturing your little clit until your entire body started to lock up.

You looked at him desperately, unsure what was even going through your mind besides him and how fucking good you felt right now. 

Just as you teetered on the edge of this orgasm, he suddenly changed up and swallowed your twitchy little clit into his mouth. He sucked, sending you flying over the edge with a shrill wail of his name. Your legs kicked and twitched, heels hitting him on the back as you trembled and shook through the orgasm that he eagerly fucked out of you onto his fingers. 

He suckled your clit, swirling his tongue around it until it was too sensitive and you were tearily pushing him away. When he finally released you, slipping his fingers from your cunt, you were boneless and twitching on the bed. You didn’t even try to close your legs when he pulled away, giving him the perfect view to watch your cute little pussy clench and messily drool cum in the aftermath of your orgasm. 

He popped his fingers in his mouth, eyes rolling and lashes fluttering at the taste of your cum tingling on his taste buds. As you came down, eyes closed and breathing heavy, he began pulling at his belt. 

You could hear the metal clinking as he dropped it to the floor, peeking your heavy lids open to see him pull the button of his jeans open. As he slowly pulled them down, his underwear went with and suddenly you were more aware than ever. 

His cock was something to behold. Thick and veiny, bobbing in the air where it hung – too heavy to actually stand upright. You’d seen dicks in porn before but none of them prepared you for Simon’s. Precum dribbled from the tip, creating a long, gooey string down towards the floor before it broke. 

He wrapped a big hand around himself, giving a few good strokes as he reached down to cup his own heavy balls. The hair wasn’t wild or offensive, but neatly trimmed short. 

“All good, lovie?” he asked, stepping out of the pool of his jeans and boxers so he could kneel on the bed again.

“All god-good!” you blushed as he laughed, leaning down over you to balance his weight on his elbows.

“You still want this?” he asks, hushed and sweet, 

You glance between your bodies to see that intimidating cock, drooling messily over your skin. You realize, quickly, that you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

When you voice such, he looks relieved, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He sits back on his heels and spreads your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest.

“Hold them there,” he orders, which you follow immediately. 

Your elbows circle around your knees, holding yourself open for him as he asked. He whistles low in appreciation when your cum-slicked cunt was spread and exposed for him to prod his cockhead against. 

He swipes the tip up and down through your folds, humming appreciatively when your little hole tries to suck him in every time he grazes past it. He nudges your clit, the little bud still hard and sensitive from your orgasm but so eager for more. He couldn’t wait to grant your wish and make you cream on his cock. 

You watch him with wide eyes as he starts to push into you. Your jaw drops as you feel that burning stretch, an ache settling between your legs as he continues to sink himself into you. 

“F-Fuck, wait, Simon!” you squeal and he halts immediately. 

He’s only reached just past the head of his cock but he reaches down to pet your clit. The pleasure shoots through you, making your toes curl and your walls relax around him. He keeps his eyes on your face for any sign that you want him to stop as he moves his hips again. 

More and more of his cock sinks inside and his thumb keeps working little circles over your clit until his hips are flush with yours. Your voice breaks as you moan when you realize you’ve taken every single inch of him. 

He’s heavy and throbbing inside of you and you clench around him intentionally, forcing a moan from his chest. 

He leans down, arranging your knees over his shoulders, folding you up and pressing down on  you. He’s heavy and it makes it hard to breathe but that makes it even better – the pleasure of being speared on that fat cock and being utterly helpless underneath this man is better than any fantasy you could have made for yourself. 

“Fuck,” he snarls, rolling his hips back before rocking them forward again, heavy balls slapping against you as he does, “Can’t believe you were gonna give this little cunt away to some prick.”

“S-Si,” you whimper, biting your lip at the feeling of him slowly and carefully rocking his hips against yours, “‘M sorry, sh-shoulda been you all this time.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he hums, “No one else gets to love you but me, sweetheart.”

“O-Only you!” you agree, nails digging into his shoulders when he hits that spot just right. 

He can feel you soaking his cock, drippy cum lathering him up to make every glide of his cock wetter than the last. He sits back up on his knees, adjusting his grip so he can pin your legs wide open, giving him the best view of your greedy cunt swallowing his length up. 

He begins to fuck you in earnest, pulling out halfway before sliding home again - nothing like the little movements he gave you to prepare you. He was going to show you exactly why you should only think of giving him this precious pussy for the rest of your life. No one will ever be able to fuck you as good as he can, he’s going to learn your body like the back of your hand and you’re never going to be able to cum as hard as you can with him. You’ll never even want to use your own fingers again when he’s done with you. 

You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, take the pleasure and take his cock. He hits so deep, prodding at your cervix in a way that aches but it only feels that much better when it’s mixed with mind-numbing pleasure. 

Simon looms above you, panting and groaning as he fucks you like he was made to. He angles his hips just right, blunt nails biting into your thighs where he pins you open, neither of you caring if he happens to break skin while he does. You don’t even register the bite of pain underneath the way his cock prods you g-spot so perfectly. 

Your own fingers would have been tired by now, no longer able to work that little spot like you need. Simon’s cock, however, is unrelenting. The pleasure builds and mounts uninterrupted, every stroke of his length sending you higher. His body moves fluidly, rolling his hips tirelessly so he can give you every ounce of pleasure your sweet little cunt needs. 

You’re creaming around him, a frothy, milky ring forming around the base every time he sinks in and becoming visible when he pulls back. It’s filthy and messy and makes your cheeks burn but Simon seems to not mind in the slightest.

“So fuckin’ messy, love,” he coos, breathy and slurred, “Look at that, pretty cunt needed some cock, huh?”

“Y-Yours!” you manage to choke out.

“What’s that?” he asks, a crooked, teasing grin on his face. 

“Y-Your cock! Only needed your cock, Simon,” you pant, reaching up to grope your own tits, pinching and rolling your nipples meanly. It hurts so good, making you clench around his cock. He moans at the sight, his pretty little virgin tormenting your own nipples.

“That’s right,” he hums, reaching a shaky hand down to thumb at your clit, “Keep pinchin’ those pretty tits, sweetheart. Don’t stop.”

You nod your head, unable to form a vocal response from the new sensation of your clit being played with while he fucks you. It feels so damn good that you could go drunk from it all. Everything in your brain is slow, thoughts of only him and how good you feel are all that’s there. Your entire world, right at this moment, revolves around Simon Riley. 

He knows it too, a cocky grin on his face as he works you to your orgasm. You dangle, almost helplessly, staring unblinkingly at his handsome face as he works it out of you. 

After what feels like minutes, but is probably only seconds, you cum. Hard.

Your head slams back against the pillows, back arching as you cunt clasps tight around him. You cry out in pure, unadulterated pleasure as he fucks you through it. His thumb keeps working your clit as it twitches and pulses under the digit, cumming nice and pretty for him just like he wanted. Just like you deserved. 

You cream his cock messily, it drips down his balls and down your ass to the bedding below. So fucking sloppy and wet, a perfect little cunt made to take his cock. 

His brows furrow, mouth falling open as his own orgasm mounts and builds. Now that your well-earned orgasm is out of the way, he can finally let go and allow himself to experience it as well.

“Where do you want it?” he grits out, teeth clenched from the ache of holding back.

His balls draw up, heavy and full. He feels ready to positively explode when you gasp, “I-Inside!”

His head falls back, the loudest, most drawn out moan you’d never expected to come from a stoic man like Simon falling from his lips. It’s deep and primal, full of nothing but euphoria as he spills into you. His load is hot and thick, drooling out of the sides of his cock as he slows his thrusts to milk the least bits of pleasure from the orgasm. 

When he comes down, he collapses. Your legs lock around his waist and he draws you tightly into his arms, neither of you caring for the way his weight crushes you. All you care about is being wrapped up in his arms where you belong. 

He pulls his neck from your chest and kisses your forehead. Then he kisses your nose. Then your lips. 

“Pretty,” he breathes, still drunk on the endorphins of the sex so his lips are a little looser than they’d normally be, “Always thought you were pretty.”

“Really?” you prompt, cheeks heating at his confession. 

He hums, “Glad you’re finally mine.”

You beam, “No one deserved me as much as you.”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious statement in the world, rolling off of you with a sigh. His cock unplugs your cunt and a gush of your mixed cum comes out, making you whine. He laughs softly, drawing you back into your arms. 

You’ve never felt safer and warmer in your life, knowing in that moment that you should have come to Simon all along. There’s no one in the world who would be there for you, more willing and able than he. 

this work belongs to rowarn. do not repost to third party websites or use for character ai. reblogs welcome and appreciated!

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being a better boyfriend than your ex, even without establishing that title....

This is a continuation of part one.

warning: mention domestic abuse

💀

Simon was there every night you worked. You never gave him your schedule, but he'd show up and settle onto one of the stools like clockwork. Soap often joined him, and while they carried on like always, you knew Simon's gaze lingered on your body. You could practically feel the weight as you took drink orders and pulled pints. It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, it made everything easier knowing you weren't alone if your ex dared show his face.

When your shifts ended, Simon would walk you back to your new place. The one time you insisted he didn't need to do that, he grunted and said, "What if I want to?"

You didn't mention it again. Instead you got into a routine of giving him a fifteen minute warning when your shift was going to end, and you'd head out into the cold night with him at your side. He was mostly quiet while you chatted about whatever was on your mind. When you'd ask him about himself, he'd reroute the conversation back to you. Then he would wait while you unlocked your door and stepped inside.

You always had the urge to invite him in, but you were taking up so much of his time already. And what would you do with him anyway? This hulking military man with kind eyes? 

You thanked him and gave him a little wave before ducking inside, and you knew he always waited until he heard the sound of your door locking before he left. 

"Y' alright, love?" he asked one night when you were starting to feel particularly good about yourself again. Your split lip had healed which required less makeup. You felt stronger for having left your ex in the dust. You were wearing a new top that made you feel sexy.

"Yeah. I'm alright, Simon. I feel really good, actually."

You served him a drink and refused to let him pay. You really ought to make him stop tipping you at this rate. He was doing so much for you and getting nothing in return. He was doing all of the boyfriend duties just as he had promised, but he never so much as touched you other than the occasional hand hold.

What if you wanted more?

He broke into your thoughts as he said, "I can tell. Ya' been smiling more. Almost ready to go?"

Tonight you felt like you were floating along the dirty sidewalk with your hand tucked in Simon's massive paw. He was keeping you warm without doing anything, and he listened to your nervous rambling as you tried your best to work up your courage. But the two of you reached your front door all too quickly.

"Get inside," he said, voice deep and tender in spite of the command. "An' lock up."

When he started to pull his hand away, you didn't let him. And you didn't budge when one of his eyebrows inched higher. "Not quite yet," you whispered, toe tapping the cement step you were standing on which put you slightly closer to him in height. "I have to tell you something."

Simon's lips pressed together in a tight line, and his chin dipped in a slight nod. "I need to tell ya' something, too. Just don't want to."

"What?" you asked immediately, the lightness you'd been feeling instantly replaced with a lead brick inside you.

"I'm leaving. Late tomorrow night. Not until after I make sure ya' get home from the pub."

"Leaving?" you whispered, heart pounding faster. He was in the military. Some sort of special mission involvement. You knew that much. And you could read between the lines to know that someone who looked and behaved like he did was probably about to risk his life, not for the first time. "Simon, where are you going?" you asked with tears in your eyes even though you figured he wouldn't be able to tell you.

Simon shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. It was a rare sight, and it made you dizzy. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be worried 'bout me." You wanted to tell him you would be. You'd worry nonstop until you saw him again. You'd come to rely on him, but mostly you liked how you felt when he was around. "There'll be someone to walk ya' home from work every night. I can promise that."

You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but instead you threw your arms around his neck. He was so solid and warm, and the scrape of his facial hair on your cheek was somehow comforting. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you asked, voice breaking on a sob.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow, love."

He didn't move an inch as you extracted yourself, and the sound of his receding footsteps could only be heard once you'd locked yourself inside.

💀

Part three

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Summoning Failed Successfully

Imagine a warehouse. Imagine a bunch of cultists in dark robes with all the candles, daggers, ancient books, and chanting. Now add Danny.

Only not as the summoned being, no. As a sacrifice.

He is sitting down, tied to a chair, in the middle of the summoning circle, looking as bored and deadpan as he can possibly be. The cultists are chanting, and he frowns, listening to their chants for a moment.

"Hey, is that Latin?" He questions, but to no avail, "You know you're not actually using those words correctly, right?"

"Keep quiet, child!" One of the cultists snaps. Danny leans back in his chair and shrugs.

"I'm just saying, you ain't summoning shit with wrong grammar," he huffs, seemingly absolutely nonchalant about the whole thing. Oracle, who is watching the whole ordeal through the surveillance cameras, raises her eyebrows. Red Robin and Robin are already en route to the building the cultists chose for their extracurricular activities, but now she almost wants to watch this a bit longer.

Gothamites are pretty used to all kinds of shitshows, but this boy is from out of town. She checked him through facial recognition. Daniel Fenton, a transfer student from Amity Park, Illinois.

A few more cultists stop chanting and turn to Danny.

"Do you know Latin?" One of them asks, and the boy makes a half-nod, making a thoughtful face.

"Not fluently, but, like, it's a dead language, I felt kinda obligated to learn it. Just for the meme, you know?" He chuckles.

The cultists, judging by their confused silence, don't know. Barbara doesn't know what he's talking about, either. But she is almost curious now, so she taps Robin's and RR's comm lines:

"RR, Robin, when you arrive, don't jump into the scene," she asks.

"Understood," Tim answers immediately, but Damian, of course, demands explanations:

"Is there an obstacle?"

"Not really," Barbara humms, "The sacrifice is in the process of de-escalating the situation."

She can almost hear the questioning silence over the comm, but, thankfully, no one argues. Meanwhile, one of the cultists pipes up, voice full of doubt:

"So, you can... like, proofread our incantation?"

"Yeah, sure," Danny nods, apparently fine with being sacrificed, "Who you're trying to summon anyway?"

"Satan," that same cultist answers, and Danny laughs approvingly.

"Classic," he nods and smiles, "I'll give you this. The circle is mostly alright, so you don't need an incantation to summon the fucker, I have him on speed dial." And with that, he leans forward, screaming towards the floor: "Ey, Satan!"

Barbara must say the act was actually convincing, but he went a little overboard with it now. She reaches to tell both Robins to get in, but suddenly, a loud, booming voice reverberates through the building.

"The fuck do you want, kid?"

Cultists fall to their knees - it doesn't seem like an act of worship, more like their knees bucking. The whole circle dimly lights up in red, smoke raising from it.

"Do you see this shit, Oracle?" Red Robin questions, and she mhm's at him, not sure what else to say. If this is still an act or a trick, she must say it's a very good one. Although somehow she suspects it's not a trick. She's seen enough magic in her life to tell the difference.

"Do you want to come to Earth, be gay and do crimes?" Danny asks, almost mockingly.

"Fuck off."

The red light flickers and disappears, and Danny looks back up to cultists, grinning cheerfully.

"Welp, looks like he doesn't wanna," the kid concludes and stands up from his chair. Barbara hadn't seen when or how he got out of his bindings.

The cultists just watch him walk out of the circle in bewilderment.

"Pursue?" Robin's voice comes over the comms, and Barbara thinks for a moment.

"I get a feeling like that's a bad idea," Tim mutters over his line.

Barbara agrees.

[chuluoyi]

the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

general masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.