#cheesecake’s perch
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something that astounds me /pos is how every system i see on here has such aesthetic cool names for their systems. i’d love to hear any stories of how your systems got their collective names :3
(tags are for reach)
#pluralistic#plural community#plural system#plurality#actually plural#pluralgang#system#osdd system#median system#did system#traumagenic system#system stuff#dissociative system#cheesecake’s perch
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There are men across the street.
The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.
But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.
You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.
You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.
Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.
She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.
It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.
The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.
You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.
You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.
The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.
“Excuse.”
You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.
What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.
“Hi,” you say, straightening.
He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.
“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.
You blink, surprised and confused.
He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.
But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.
“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”
The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.
Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.
“This is Guy.”
You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.
“Guy?” he asks.
“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”
You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.
“He is a little guy,” the man muses.
Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.
“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.
The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.
“What are their names?”
You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”
A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.
“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”
You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”
“Yes, the short one.”
You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.
“Does he know you call him that?”
“Not if you don’t tell him.”
You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.
Someone’s at the door.
You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.
Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.
You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.
You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.
“Morning,” you chime.
“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.
“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”
He grunts. “Work.”
And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.
“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”
“No.”
You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.
“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”
You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.
You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”
He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”
Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.
“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.
“So! The truck - when will it be here?”
“Noon.”
“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.
You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.
The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.
You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.
You blink and abandon the dishes for later.
The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.
You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.
You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?
“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.
You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.
You yawn. “Mhmm.”
He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.
“It is late.”
“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.
“The sun is up.”
“So what?”
He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.
“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”
You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”
Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”
Well shit.
Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.
Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.
Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.
You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.
At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.
It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.
“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”
His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.
“The cat comes too.”
Cat?
You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.
He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.
There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.
You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.
The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.
The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.
Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.
“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.
“Why?” he asks.
You shrug. “To be nice.”
He stares. You blink back.
“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”
Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.
To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.
“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”
The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.
“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.
That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.
“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”
He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.
“Nikto,” he rasps finally.
You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.
“You,” Krueger says.
You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”
“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.
“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”
He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.
“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.
“No problem,” you answer, smiling.
Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)
“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”
“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.
“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.
“We will handle it,” Krueger says.
“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”
You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.
“Huh,” you say, surprised.
Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”
You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”
That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.
“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.
Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.
“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.
Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.
#cod#thoughts™️#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#dark fic#konig#konig x you#konig x reader#nikto x reader#sebastian krueger#krueger x reader#cod nikto#konig cod#neighbor!reader
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One plus one
“This can’t be normal…”
“Jason, you’re a halfa, nothing is normal.”
Jason threw a bird as he continued to study the mirror.
There was a lump on his stomach. It wasn’t there last week.
Call him paranoid but the last time he wasn’t ended with him in a box.
Danny snickered from his perch on Jason’s bed.
“You know if something is really bothering you than we can go visit Frostbite? It’s kind of his whole deal to make sure we don’t croak again.”
Jason grimaced as he pressed the toilet’s flush with his foot.before entering his bedroom and flopping onto the bed.
“Sure, who doesn’t enjoy getting lectures from yetis? It’s probably just a resurgence of the pit. And extra can of liquid lime jello a day and I’ll be good.”
“You say that now, but last time it was you flame core coming in.”
Jason grimaced,
“I’m aware.”
“You burned down a safe house. Jason, you’re no longer human. You need to remember that it’s never nothing wit-“
Danny let out a sharp yelp as he felt a harsh kick send him to the floor. Getting up, he sent a glare at the snickering vigilante before letting out a sigh,
“I’m just saying it’s better to get this checked out before it becomes a problem.”
“If it will calm your nerves than we can visit tomorrow, now get over here. I have patrol in a couple hours and I demand compensation.”
“Compensation?” He snickered as he slid into the older boy’s arms. “Compensation for what?”
“The lectures I’m going to have to deal with tomorrow. Now shut up dumbass.”
~~~~
Jason was in shock.
He had to be because there’s no way that Frosty just said-
“-quite remarkable Jason! Usually when it comes to procreation ghosts have challenges to produce one child-“
Triplets.
‘That’s three..’
“Holy shit.”
Like actually how??
Jason couldn’t even remember when the last time he slept with someone let alone bottomed.
Glancing over to Danny he could see that he was trying to do math as well.
“I don’t- how?”
Frostbite gave him a confused look,
“Young Jason? What do you mean?”
“I mean how? I haven’t had sex since I met Danny.”
“Ahh, you are thinking of human procreation. When it comes to ghosts they really only need to have a strong wish for children and have their body and haunt in a proper state to carry. Add the fact that you have been in prolonged contact with the Great One probably caused the quantity.”
Fucking hell Desiree..
“So they’re mine?” Danny asked,
“As far as I’m aware. Congratulations you two on your hauntlings! Now with the sheer number you are a caring Jason I think it it best that we talk about what you should expect-“
~~~~~~
“Jason talk to me babe.”
“Talk? What is there to talk about? I’m fine, you’re fine, the babies are fine. Everything is fine.”
Danny hummed as he floated above the kitchen.
“You say that but you’re stress baking.”
“We were out of snacks.”
“You’re making a cheesecake at five in the morning.”
Jason slammed his rolling pin a bit more aggressively into the gram crackers before turning around.
“Fine! You know what? I’m stressed, I admit it! We’re not in a stable place here! We’re two 23 year olds who live in crime alley! The Anti-Ecto acts just got brought down. You’re going to college and I’m a vigilante crime lord!”
Jason furiously rubbed his palm into his eye before releasing a long breath,
“It’s just- really hitting right now.” He slid down the cabinet to the tile, “Fuck we’re having kids.”
Danny lightly floated to the floor before gently leaning into the taller man.
“Hey, you’re thinking about this like we’re going to do this alone. You’re forgetting that we have support. Tucker and Sam are moving over soon, Jazz is one call away. That doesn’t even count the 20 billion siblings you dad has got.”
The snort Jason let out was counted as a win.
“I mean do you know how many onesies I saw Dick looking up on his phone during those weeks of pranking?Tim was frantically googling what to expect while your expecting.”
“Really?”
Danny nodded solemnly,
“Duke and Damian were figuring out how to set up a nursery. You remember how Bruce reacted the first time. They’ll be excited! And we both know that the girls are going to flip!”
Danny gently nudged him in the side,
“Annnd you’ll have me. I’ll be at your side until you get annoyed by my presence!”
Jason gently unfolded himself and rested his head on Danny’s,
“You know that we’re going to have to come clean about our relationship right?”
With a dramatic sigh Danny got up and pulled Jason along,
“It was fun while it lasted, two and a half years of circumventing Brucie’s attempts of getting me to join the family only to be murdered for that same reason.”
“Nah, Old man isn’t who you should be worried about, Alfred on the other hand…”
As they sat down and turned on the morning news a calm finally fell onto Jason. With a glance down to his stomach he took a deep breath.
‘Yeah we can do this.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hoodlums:
@numbuh-7-knd, @phoenixdemonqueen, @lokiaddams,@thegatorsgoose,
@storm-and-fire , @elvesandlanterns @moedango , @skulld3mort-1fan , @apointlessbox , @samgirl98 @booberrylizard , @starmee-lodurrson, @idek618 , @littlefeather345 , @iosonotoro , @dxrksong @moonfirearc @terzatheunderscorerima @thegatorsgoose , @the-legal-shipper
#the poll ended up romantic with d4#writing prompt#dp x dc#mother hood au#danny phantom#danny fenton#jason todd#batman#dc x dp#shipping#dead on main#mpreg
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Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)
Part 4
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Most recent part
Warnings: Profanity!! Swearing!! Kinda sad!!
Word Count: 7.4k (fun fact! if you've read the whole story, that's 27 pages of reading!)
A/N: The highly anticipated continuation to my ramblings. Please let me know if you want to be on the tag list for this series (because apparently that's a thing people do?) Also, can you tell I'm a huge Bad Omens fan?
"Wait, you're from San Sebastián? Like the cake?"
"If I had known you were this funny I wouldn't have ordered a soda. It keeps coming out of my nose."
You smiled widely at Martin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You sat across from him in a restaurant by the beach, the dim yellow light complimenting the fading sun that cascaded through the windows. Salt hung in the air, filling your lungs with a feeling of relaxation. You rarely ever let first dates pick you up, let alone drive you an hour outside of Barcelona. But Martin had made you feel safe.
He had pulled up outside of your building, top down on the blue Mercedes he drove. His sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, allowing him to drink in your sight and let out a low whistle as you approached the car. Your beach dress swayed around you, hugging different parts of your body as you moved. Your hair was pulled away from your face, with the wind shifting a few strands. Martin jumped out of the vehicle at the sight of you, opening the door for you and helping with your bag. The car ride there had been a tad awkward, with both of you nervous to come across too strong or two excited. So he handed you AUX and got a feel for you through your taste in music (which was erratic and all over the place). He let you play whatever you want. Well, almost: when 'Like a Villain' by Bad Omens came on, he changed the song himself, stating that he "could not stand scream music".
You had both loosened up by the time you got to the beach. You set up on the sand and Martin unbuttoned his shirt, glancing up to make sure you were watching him expose his chest inch by inch. You decided to be just as bold, lifting your dress over your head without turning around. Upon rummaging through your belongings, you decided none of your swimsuits gave off the desired impression, which was "I was meant to be a rich football WAG please wife me now". The natural next step was to ask Angelika for one, and she did not disappoint. It was a light pink medium-slutty bikini, sitting ever so prettily on your chest and on the curve of your hips. You laid across the towel on your side, finally able to engross yourself in the conversation with Martin. Once you two started, it was almost impossible for you to stop talking. You were so enamored by this man, who was interesting and funny and good looking and successful and interested in you.
You had spent hours at the beach, walking along the water, swimming in the shallows, and just laying in the warm sand, all while maintaining a great conversation. He was genuine in all his questions about your interests and your life. As you put your dress back on, Martin stared at you. He licked his lips as you let your hair down, shaking it to get any excess sand out. He asked if you didn't mind keeping the night going by having dinner with him, which is how you ended up at a pretty tiny seafood place by the sea. The other three occupied tables in the restaurant also hosted couples, so you felt at ease sitting across from Martin and asking about his home town.
"Okay but I love San Sebastián cake! It's like cheesecake but better and doesn't make me feel like I have butter lining my veins."
Martin laughed shyly and rolled his eyes. He looked at you softly, in a way that few men had. Most guys looked at you with a hardness in their eyes: you were a challenge to defeat, a mountain to climb, a conquest to complete. You were the impossible woman and you were to be treated as such. But Martin? He looked at you with a delicate that made you feel like you were made of glass. He looked at you the way Disney characters looked at the princesses: like something special that needed to be cherished. You rested your hand on the table, and he brought his hand to drape over yours, making you feel like a high schooler with their first crush. It was sweet and delicate and everything a girl wanted in a romance. You looked up at Martin and saw what you had been searching for all this time: potential.
You woke up Monday morning feeling the best you had in weeks. The previous day, you received an email saying you passed your field medicine exam with a 93%, shortly followed by a few texts from Martin saying how much he enjoyed the date and how he couldn't wait to see you again. It felt like everything in your life was falling into place: you were on your way to becoming a successful sports physiotherapist, and you had a hot football player who was sending you "good morning" texts before his 8am training.
You practically skipped into work, coffee in one hand, handbag swinging in the other. You stood in the hall outside your office and stared at your phone, smiling like an idiot at the messages from Martin. A hand came down and grasped your shoulder, scaring you out of your trance.
"Good morning doctora. You didn't answer my texts."
And just like that, your mood was ruined by Pablo, Barca's little storm could of misery. He had sent you several messages over your time off, all of which you had decided not to open:
[Gavi]: Good luck on your exam Doctora.
[Gavi]: Frenkie ripped his knee open today during training. It was nasty as fuck. You would have thought it was cool.
[Gavi]: Sevilla is so fucking cold I can't stand it.
[Gavi]: Did you see the injuries during today's match? You're going to be busy on Monday.
[Gavi]: Say hi to Martin for me and the boys
[Gavi]: Tomorrow morning I need you to remove my back and give me a new one
"Yes Gavi, because I was busy," you breathed out as you opened your office door. Gavi walked in behind you, taking your coffee and bag from your hands to place them in their usual spots. "I gave you my personal number for emergencies. If you keep texting me status updates about your life, I will demote you back to email only. Why is your shirt off?"
"Because you're gonna work on my back, which you would know if you read my messages. Besides, don't lie, you love my little updates."
You pulled your hair up, grabbing clean gloves and some muscle warming lotion as you approached a shirtless Gavi, who had laid himself across your table. Despite not opening them, you had to admit that the messages made a feeling of warmth spread through your chest. Someone on the team was thinking about you, and he had remembered the things you were interested in. You could just barely admit this to yourself, but you would never say it out loud to Gavi. God forbid he ever found out that you enjoyed his presence.
"No one likes them, given that you send them to me rather than your friends."
From his position on his stomach, he looked over his shoulder at you.
"Are we not friends, y/n?"
"I'm not sure, Gavi. We could be if you stopped hating me."
"I don't hate you. I think."
The statement made your cheeks heat up slightly for reasons unknown to you. Instead of focusing on this, you squeezed some of the gel onto Gavi's lower back, an area that consistently gave him trouble. It was odd to hear that Gavi considered the two of you friends. Hell, it was weird to hear that he didn't hate you. Despite him treating you more politely, he never gave you the impression that he enjoyed your presence outside of the fact that you repaired his aching body. Well, that, and the fact that he was sending you daily updates about the team, most of which were not related to work at all. You spread the gel around the area, giving it a moment to heat up before you started working the muscle.
"So how did your exam go?" Gavi asked, laying on his folded hands. It was 7:40am, and he was susceptible to falling asleep unless he maintained a conversation. He also needed something to focus on besides the feeling of your hands on him. There was that damn feeling again: the ache in his chest, the goosebumps on his arms, the feeling like he wanted to run out the room and off the roof. He had no clue what is was about you that made him feel like he was on the verge of exploding. He would deny it if anyone asked, but he felt himself start to get hard every time you put your hands on him. Maybe Pedri was right and he was severely touch starved.
"It went amazing. I was a little scared about the technical test, because I can't really lift more than 60 kilos, so if we had to use the spine board it might have been a problem. But it was a stomach injury, so it was pretty easy. Passed with a 93%."
Your hands moved around Gavi's lower back, and he was letting out sharp breaths of pain.
"Muscle tension?"
"No actually. Your gloves... you know what it's fine I'll live keep going."
"No no. Gavi I don't want to hurt you. Tell me what's the issue."
"Well.. Your gloves are getting caught on the hair of my lower back, and you're pulling on it. I don't really know what you can do about that but that's what hurts."
You looked down at your gloved, realizing the mix of latex and gel had ripped a couple hairs out of Gavi.
"I can go wash my hands and do this without gloves. I'll be right back."
Before Gavi could protest to your bare hands massaging him, you had thrown your gloves away and let the room, washing your hands across the hall and returning. You repositioned yourself to lean over Gavi and began working the muscles in his lower back, your hands digging into his skin. Gavi was now, for the second time in two weeks, seething with anger in your office, because he was about to get hard in front of you from the most platonic touches. He didn't want you to think he was a teenage slave to his hormones. He wanted to show that he was cool and in control (even if in reality he was falling apart under your fingers).
"So how was the beach?" He asked. He knew he shouldn't. He knew you two weren't close enough for him to be asking. Gavi didn't even want to hear the answer - you looked like you were so happy, and the thought of you being happy with another man made him sick. He told himself it was because a boyfriend would make you less available for the team, but the reasoning was weak at best. But he knew the disappointment of hearing about your date would make him flaccid and riled up for training, so he let his lips utter the question that had bothered him for days.
"The beach? Or my date?" You asked, pressing harder into his lower back. The thought of Martin brought you warm sunshine feelings normally, but when Gavi asked, it made you feel nervous - embarrassed. Like you had done something wrong or shameful.
"Either. Both. Did you have a good time?"
You took a deep breath, allowing the memories of Saturday to fill your lungs.
"Honestly, it was great, Gavi, the best date I've been on in so long. The beach was gorgeous, and he seemed to really like me, which is more than I can say about the other guys I've been out with."
He clutched the plush bed tighter, arm veins becoming more pronounced.
"Have you been on dates with a lot of guys here?"
You paused your motions. Usually, you would respond with a sarcastic remark, asserting your dominance and your ability to date whoever you wanted. But Gavi's eyes showed that he wasn't being judgmental like the previous week - he was genuinely curious.
"Yeah like a dozen since I moved back. They've all sucked. Like majorly - they think I'm dumb and looking for a sugar daddy, or they just want to have sex. Or both actually. But Martin was so sweet to me. Every other date I've been on, the guy tried to kiss me or squeeze my thighs. The most physical thing Martin did was hold my hand."
In your dreamy recount of your date, you had lost track of what you were doing with your hands. The medical muscle treatment had shifted towards a much more intimate massage, with your hands lingering slightly too long on sections of Gavi's lower back. This was not helping his tenting issue, and neither was the mental image you were painting. He squeezed his eyes shut, focused on stopping the blood flow to his dick, but instead he pictured you in a swimsuit holding someone's hand. Holding his hand. His eyes shot open and he pushed him up, startling you in the process.
"Sorry, I don't know why I did that." He said, leaning back down and letting you keep working.
"I know I probably shouldn't be giving you this much information about my personal life, but you're not gonna tell on me, are you Gavi?" You asked, winking at him. Why would you do that? Did you hate him? Were you purposely trying to get him hard?
"Of course not, doctora. It's nice to hear you talk about something else besides how shit my muscles are." You continued rambling about your date and about Martin while Gavi listened intently, erection now fully gone, much to his satisfaction. You listed off all the good things you experienced that day, from the feel of the sand to the taste of your drink. As you finished up, Gavi had his eyebrows scrunched together (more than usual).
"You look like you want to say something, so just say it."
"Do you like him?"
The question caught you off guard (much like everything else Gavi had done that day) as you moved to get some paper towels to wipe the gel off Gavi's back.
"He's a great guy and he likes me a lot, so I think I would like to see where things go."
Gavi held out his hand, preferring to wipe himself down. He had just recovered from your touch, and was not eager to have another exchange like that again. He looked at you critically with one eyebrow lifted.
"Tch, you're not listening to the question. I'm sure he's very nice. But I'm asking about you, y/n. Do you like him?"
Looking down, you wiped your hands and pressed your lips together. This conversation had gotten a lot deeper than the ones you and Gavi normally got into. But there was something about the boy in front of you that made your heart soften, urging you to open up to him. Maybe it was the memory of his drunken state and how burdened he seemed. Maybe it was the boyish innocence that he carried, still resilient despite the sin that accompanied being rich and famous so young. There was just something about Gavi that, despite him being immature and infuriating, made you feel safe.
"I don't know. I don't think I can let myself like him before I'm sure that he wants to be with me for the right reasons."
Gavi had never seen you like this. You were one of the most confident people he knew, always walking with your head up and shoulders back. Now, your head hung forward, and despite you standing, it looked like you wanted to curl yourself into a ball. Your eyes were unfocused, as if you were remembering something you would rather forget.
"I understand that."
If Gavi kept surprising you like this, you were going to need your own physio.
"Understand what?"
"Wanting people to like you for the right reasons. Not wanting someone to be interested in you because of your body or your money or your name, but for who you are as a human being."
Your eyes met his hazel ones, holding his gaze. There was something that neither of you were saying, but you both felt. It was a pain that you couldn't explain with words - you either knew what it was like to be an object or you didn't. Feeling the mood weigh heavier on the both of you, you decided it was time to lighten things back up.
"That was really deep Gavi. I didn't know middle schoolers could be so philosophical."
Gavi groaned, cracking a smile in the process. He had gotten up, slipping his shirt over his head, working on getting his shoes back on as well.
"You know good and well that I'm 18, not a middle schoolers. If you want more proof, go ask your mom."
"My mom is an elementary school teacher."
This caused both of you to lose it, gripping your sides in laughter. You looked over at Gavi, watching the way his eyes crinkled and body shook with each laugh. You liked seeing him smile (it finally gave those eyebrows a break).
You and Gavi exited your office, walking to the field together. You would be observing their training to get used to assessing on field injuries with Antonio, another physio assistant. He had graduated from the same program as you, and had been assisting Dr. G for the least 3 years. He had been recruited by Manchester City, and would be moving to England at the end of the season, creating a need to impart all his wisdom on you.
Gavi ran onto the field giddy with excitement. He loved his teammates and all the friends he made at La Masia, but he had a hard time making other friends the more famous he got. Every time he liked a photo or followed someone on Instagram, there would be news articles and headlines reading that he had a wife. He felt comfortable around you, and despite meeting you through his work, you didn't have an obligation to like him in order to win trophies. It started that warm and fuzzy feeling again.
"Gavi, nice of you to join us. You'll be with Ferran and Christensen. Pedri, Lewandowsky, and Kounde, you'll be the other team. It will be precision training."
Ferran sauntered up to Gavi, phone and bottle in hand. As they waited for Christensen to join them, Ferran unlocked his phone and held it up to Gavi. It was a picture of you (seemingly from your private Instagram) this weekend at the beach, sitting on the sand and looking behind you. Your glasses sat at the top of your head as you glanced over your shoulder at the camera.
"In those scrubs, could you ever tell that our little nurse has such a heavenly ass?"
Gavi wished he couldn't hear. Or that Ferran didn't have a mouth to speak. He glared at him and brought his phone up, pressing the side button and making the screen go dark.
"She let you follow her on Instagram and this is what you do? Show her private pictures to the whole team?"
Gavi tried his best to hide the hurt in his voice at the fact that you had yet to follow him, hating that Ferran, nasty as he was to you, got special treatment.
"Oh no, Martin sent this screenshot to me. She hasn't accepted me as a follower yet. And not everyone gets to see - just you, because I know you've been waiting for her to let you hit. Oh and maybe Pedri if you let him."
Gavi wanted to step on Ferran's smug face with his cleats. But what really angered him was Martin. Why was he sharing private photos of you with anyone who asked? Needless to say, Gavi was on fire for the rest of practice, being extra physical with all the boys. He was throwing himself at the ball, scrapping the exposed skin on his arms on almost every play. After five rounds, Gavi's arm had gotten past scrapes and began to bleed, leading to Xavi stopping the drill and calling you over to bandage up the ragefully aggressive boy.
"Hey nurse y/n." Ferran called out, leaning against one of the goal posts.
"Stop calling me a nurse Ferran before I hurt you so bad you're eating through a tube." You were tired of Ferran's remarks from the day you started. The longer you worked with the team, the less they bothered you.
"There's that fire that I love. How was the beach? Do anything...hot?"
Gavi tried to turn around and glare at Ferran, but you gripped his arm tightly, instructing him not to move while you bandaged it.
"Yeah I did actually. I called your dad and almost gave him a son he actually loves, but I decided not to hurt your mom like that." The boys all snickered at your comment. Ferran leaned into Pedri, showing him the picture as well, much to Gavi's displeasure.
"I bet it's bubblegum pink - and I'm not talking about the swimsuit."
You didn't hear what Ferran had said, only Pedri's response of "you're sick dude". The bleeding boy in front of you had. This time you couldn't hold Gavi back, and he turned around fully to smack the phone out of Ferran's hand.
"What's your problem Hermano?" Ferran said, hostility apparent in his voice.
"You're giving me a headache."
"Sounds like a personal issue. y/n, on Thursday after Pedrito tucks Gavi into bed, all the adults are going to the club to celebrate the hopeful win against Espanol. Care to join?"
You pinched Gavi on the arm to keep him from turning around to respond to Ferran's comments about his age. You knew age was a sore spot, but you really needed to make sure his elbow was bandaged properly, and him constantly rotating wasn't helping.
"I'm not sure it's appropriate for me, as a member of staff, to be going out with a group of players. I'm not trying to get in trouble."
Pedri had approached you at this point, draping an arm around Gavi and leaning against him.
"Martin will be there, so you won't be out with the players. You'll be out with the guy you're seeing, and the players will just happen to be there. You should come - you'll get bottle service for free."
Gavi prayed you would say no. He prayed you would be responsible and say that you needed to go home and rest, as you clocked into work at 7:30am. Despite Ferran's taunting, Gavi would also be at the club, and the idea of you seeing him while he was drunk made him queasy. He was already off-putting to some people while sober, so he didn't want to undo the closeness he had achieved with you today with a shot of tequila.
"If Martin's going to be there, I don't see why not. I would love to see what Pedri looks like when confronted by a bottle service girl."
You finished bandaging Gavi's arm, and heard Xavi yelling that this was practice, not school lunch, and everyone got back to their places on and off the field.
The rest of the week passed by rather uncharacteristically. No intense injuries. No texts from Gavi to meet him for an early morning session. It really was just a normal 9-5 job. On Thursday, Barca played at home against Espanol, winning 2-0, with goals from Dembele and Gavi in the second half. Only one head collision between Araujo and another player, so you go to stay on the sides and enjoy the game. At the end, the players came to the sidelines to thank the fans for their support. You watched as Gavi removed his shirt, tossing it to a little girl at the front of the audience, her dad protecting her immediately from the rabid fans around her. You were brought out of your trance by two arms around your waist, lifting you up, causing you to let out a small scream.
"Ready to party bonita?" Ferran's voice asked uncomfortably close to your ear. Upon being put down, you grabbed your medical bag and rushed off the field, eager to get away from the player that felt too comfortable touching you whenever he pleased. Pedri watched you run off from the corner of his eye and turned to Ferran, giving him a side eye for the actions.
You drove home with music blasting over the speakers. It was a great stress relief (even if it encouraged you to speed). You showered and got dressed, excited to get to see some of the boys out in the wild, not only in the secluded space that was Camp Nou. You slipped into a black dress, hair half pulled up, and your makeup done dark and smoky - typical for a night out. A knock at your door made you finally stop admiring your own reflection, and you found Martin in front of you, a black t-shirt hugging his torso, coupled with those dreadful skinny cargo pants in army green (you know the ones that Spanish men love).
"Good evening beautiful. Let me take a look at you." He grabbed your hand spinning you slowly, and taking in every curve the dress hugged.
"Ready to go?" You asked, trying to step into the hallway and close the door to your apartment. He placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.
"Not quite. You look absolutely stunning, don't get me wrong, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to go out dressed like that. It's a little too revealing, and if anyone were to take pictures of us together, I would want them to think you're my girl, not just someone dancing half naked in the club trying to get a footballer."
You felt a pit develop in your stomach. You had never been told by a man to go change for a night out. This is how you had always dressed, feeling confident in yourself and your ability to look put together without looking cheap. You were ready to tell Martin to fuck off, but you thought back to university. You had dressed this way back then too, and all anyone ever wanted was to sleep with you. Maybe he was right - your clothes were giving off the wrong impression. You stepped inside to change, substituting your dress for a pair of high waisted jeans and a corset top with long sleeves.
"Even better." He said, kissing you on the cheek and leading you out of the building.
'Maybe this is what men want,' you thought to yourself as you strapped into Martin's car and plugged in your phone, queuing several songs that you knew would be Martin-approved.
The line at the club was ridiculously long given that people had to go to work the following morning, but Martin explained that word had gotten out about the footballers frequenting this establishment, and so every girl and all her wannabe WAG friends would flock here after a home game to try and get a glimpse of the million euro boys. Martin shook hands with one of the bouncers, who gave you a once over before leading you both to the VIP section. The Barca boys were already there, not running late because of last minute outfit changes.
The older players had their own section where they sat with their partners, speaking with each other as much as they could over the thump of the speakers. The younger players had the more obvious section that overlooked the rest of the club. Pedri noticed you first, looking away from the bottle service girl he was talking to and waving you over. The closer you got, the more you could see the waitress fidgeting and blushing, overwhelmed by the fact that Pedri was whispering their order into her ear (because the music was loud. no other reason). Gavi sat on the seat next to him, legs spread and arms crossed, looking utterly uninterested until his eyes landed on you. He sat up straighter, wondering if it was ok to come up to you and greet you given that you were with another man. As he thought, someone else beat him to it.
"Martin! Good to see you Hermano. Always great when you join us, especially with something pretty on your arm."
You stopped yourself from responding to Ferran, looking at Martin instead. You didn't know much about men, but there was an assumption that most of them didn't like it when other guys made suggestive remarks at the girls they were with. But the anger never came - only a laugh from Martin before joining hands with Ferran to great him. You look a seat beside Gavi, with Martin on your right. He waved the bottle service girl over, still red as a tomato from taking Pedri's order, and started requesting bottles while placing a hand on your lower thigh, rubbing gentle circles into the skin there.
Gavi followed Martin's fingers with his eyes, tracing the same circles with his vision and damn near going cross-eyed. His body filled with heat despite the fact that he had not yet consumed a drop of liquor. There was something about the possessive grip Martin had, coupled with the nervous way you sat with your hands folded, that upset Gavi. Soon enough there were bottles on tables, and shots were being poured.
"What'll you have baby? Don Julio or Azul?"
"I'm actually not drinking. I have to be at work in the morning" You replied, and Gavi went to remove the shot glass from in in front of you, but Martin stopped him.
"What do you mean you're not drinking? Come on you're out and we got bottles, you have to drink. I'm pouring you a shot of Don Julio. Better take it or I'm leaving you here." Martin said with a slight laugh in his voice. You picked up the shot glass reluctantly. You didn't drink on weeknights, but you didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Gavi leaned into you ear.
"You don't have to take it if you don't want to. He's not in charge of you or what you drink."
You looked over at Gavi, silently thanking him for the encouragement, but felt the cool of the glass against your lips. You looked over at Martin, who licked his lips and gazed at you with hooded eyes. Maybe this is what you needed to be doing - loosening up with the guys you went out with. Maybe it was your uptight nature that made people want to fuck you until you went soft, never sticking around to put the pile of mush back together. You knocked back the shot, reeling from the burn.
"There you go. Good job." You giggled slightly at the praise, leaning into Martin's side. Gavi was not happy. He hadn't known you your whole life, but the three months you had been at Barca showed him fundamentals about your personality. One of them was that you did what you wanted, and didn't let anyone sway you when you were set. Allowing Martin to persuade you into doing things you didn't want to made Gavi uneasy, but he said nothing, knocking back his own shot and leaning back onto the couch. He knew the alcohol would start to damped all his emotions, making the anger and other unnamed feelings more bearable.
Martin had one hand around you, whispering into your ear about nothing in particular, just pleasantries: how good you looked in your jeans, how you pretty you were under the club lights, how nice it was to see you again. The sweet words and the alcohol in your bloodstream made everything slightly hazy and rose tinted. But you weren't relaxed. On the contrary, the panic started to set in at the fact that you were not completely with it in a place full of strangers. This was only made worse by the fact that Martin had poured you another shot, holding it up once again. This time he wasn't even asking, just pushing the glass to your lips waiting for you to oblige.
"Hermano, stop pushing drinks on her." You heard from your other side. Gavi had now pushed himself up from the couch, standing above you almost threateningly. Martin looked up at him and scoffed.
"Listen poquito Pablo. When the adults are speaking, learn to shut up." He looked back down at you, shot glass still raised for you to drink from. His eyes were now angrier and more expectant - like the only way to prove to Pablo that the two of you were happy together was to take the shot. You tried to grab the glass from his hand, but he tutted and moved his hand away: he wanted to feed it to you.
"I might go get something else. I'm not a huge fan of tequila."
"No one is a fan of tequila, bonita. We're just trying to have a good time."
Gavi closed the gap between him and Martin at this point, causing everyone in the group to stand. Pedri disconnected his eyes from the bottle service girl and grabbed Gavi's shoulder, hoping to hold back his outburst. Martin stood, lifting you off the couch with him. He put one arm around your waist, pulling you in close. He then looked Pablo dead in the eyes and took the shot himself.
"Watch the way you speak to your superiors, Cabron. Come on bonita, lets get you a more suitable drink."
He shoved past Gavi with you in tow, walking through past the VIP security and towards the general bar. You looked back over your shoulder at Gavi, who was obviously fuming. Pedri went to stand in front of him, blocking his path in case he decided to retaliate.
"Did you hear what he said to me? I should-"
"You should sit down and not make a scene." Pedri said, looking Gavi in the eye. "Martin wont be coming out with us again, but if you get kicked out of the club, you'll be in deep shit. And you'll worry y/n."
"Why would I care-"
"You just do. Don't make her more anxious than she already is. Sit. Relax. Have one more shot if you want - one, Gavi. Control yourself."
Pedri took his seat again, and the bottle girl came back for them to continue whatever pseudo-flirting they were engaged in.
At the bar, you weren't doing too hot. You thought Martin just wanted to get you away from an uncomfortable encounter, but he seemed intent on getting you to drink. His arm was still tight around your waist as he ordered two Long Islands from the bartender (for all my dear readers that don't drink, that is a mix of rum, tequila, triple sec, gin, and vodka with a splash of cola. Probably the most alcohol you can get in one cocktail). Your stomach dropped further. You didn't usually drink. You hated the feeling of being drunk, and hated more the feeling of not being in control of yourself. But Martin was looking at you like you were the stars that filled the sky as he handed you the glass, clinking his against it, and you couldn't say no. You wanted to keep him happy.
So you sipped, slowly and nervously, as he stood behind you, arms around your waist and swaying to the beat of the music. Ferran had also approached the bar, making conversation with Martin as you tried not to let your distress become visible on your face. The song changed to something more base-y and seductive, and the grip around your waist tightened.
"Come on, bonita. I want to see how you move for me."
You were grateful to be parted from your drink as you were pulled onto the dancefloor, bodies trapping you against your date. You swayed your hips to the beat, allowing yourself to be taken by the feeling of the music. Marin turned you to face him, resting his arms around your lower back, and resting his forehead against yours. It felt good: being able to look at him rather than the other club goers. You felt the occasional brush against your ass (you assumed from Ferran), but worked on steadying yourself. The alcohol was now hitting your system, causing you to become less stable on your feet. Maybe you couldn't handle liquor as well as you thought.
Gavi was back in the booth preparing to take a 4th shot, despite clear instructions from Pedri to stop at 2. The bouncer had said his ID was fake despite letting him in the previous week. The bottle girls, who were blushing and flirting with the other team members, talked to Gavi like he was ordering from the kids menu. And now, his final straw - Martin. "Cabron" didn't bother him. It was a common phrase on the field, usually an indication he was doing well. But it was "poquito" and all the other references to being a child that got under his skin. Children didn't drink - adults did. That's what Gavi was doing, finishing his fourth with no chaser. The alcohol was calming him, making him less likely to punch someone in the face.
He had undone the first button of his shirt and sat on the sofa with his legs spread. He was about to tell the bouncer to let a pretty young thing into the VIP to keep him entertained, when he saw you struggling to walk on the outer edges of the crowd. He should have stayed seated. You were here with your... what was Martin? A date? A boyfriend? Whatever he was, he was meant to be looking after you, not Gavi. Gavi was supposed to be having fun, taking shots and dancing with girls. But he wasn't. He was pushing himself off the couch to go and see why you were walking around shaky and alone.
"Where are you going?" He asked, grabbing onto your shoulders.
"I'm trying to find the bathroom. I feel shaky and nauseous."
"Where is Martin? He didn't offer to take you home?"
"With Ferran. He said to come find him when I feel better. It's fine, he doesn't have to leave because of me." You stumbled forward with that last sentence, being stabilized by Pablo (who, while drunk, was doing better than you). He walked you into the bathroom of the club, helping you lean over the sink and splash some water over your face. He delicately gathered your hair in one hand, keeping it away from the faucet. He looked at the top of your back, shoulder blades peaking out the top. Without thinking he brought his other hand to rest there, rubbing gentle circles into your back as you tried to calm your nausea and anxiety.
"I'm sorry that Martin swore at you." You said, meeting Gavi's eyes through the mirror.
"Don't apologize for him. He's an ass for trying to make you drink. He's an ass for letting you walk around while drunk."
You got up from the sink, turning to face Gavi. His hand slid from your back now to grip your arm. He looked you straight in the eye, despite his vision being foggy at the edges from the shots.
"Don't say that about him, Gavi. Be respectful."
"Why?" The question came out as a yell, startling you slightly.
"Why do i need to respect him when he's cursing me out and treating you like shit? Because I'm younger than him?"
"No one said anything about your age Gavi."
"Why do you keep making excuses for him?"
It was the question you were scared of. The question that lingered in the back of your own mind even before leaving Gavi's lips. Martin was pushing you far outside of your comfort zone, in a way that you hadn't allowed anyone to before.
"He likes me, Gavi. He wants to see where things go. I think I want that too. I've been living my life one way until this point, but obviously it's not working. I have trouble getting close to people," your eyes were welling with tears, "and even when I do get close to them, I can never keep them in my life. No one wants to be around me. So if Martin does, I have to try, don't I?"
Gavi felt a pang in his chest, right where his heart was. It broke him to see you like this - shaking and in tears in a club bathroom, while the man you were trying to impress was probably grinding on other girls. Gavi told himself it had nothing to do with you specifically, just fairness. You were objectively a good person, and you deserved to be treated well by everyone around you. He tugged your shoulder, bringing you in for a tight embrace. You tucked your head into his shoulder, allowing your tears to fall more freely now that he couldn't see you. Something in you began to calm. It was like Gavi had flipped a switch. Your shaking gradually decreased, and you no longer felt like throwing up your internal organs.
"It's because you're a good person."
"What?" Gavi replied, unable to decipher your mumblings while you spoke into his shoulder. You separated from him and looked him in the eyes.
"I don't want you to say things like that about Martin because you're a good person. It just... feels wrong to watch you be a typical rude and angry man. It doesn't fit you."
Gavi let out a breathy laugh, moving away from you and towards the door.
"A lot of people would disagree with you. Being angry is my defining quality."
"On the field maybe. But don't bring that into your real life. I like you how you are."
There was that feeling again. Gavi could try and blame the alcohol, but this was different. It was like there was a match lit right under his skin, burning him from the inside, making it hard for him to breathe - hard to not touch you. Maybe he need help. Or to stop drinking.
"You know I could never be angry with you doctora."
___
You woke up the following morning on the couch of your apartment. You were still in your clothes and makeup from the night before. Your phone was dead and on the coffee table in front of you. You started to recall the night before in bits and pieces, with your interaction with Gavi being the most vivid. You set your phone to charge, going to wipe off the makeup from last night. You wracked your brain trying to remember how you got home. A part of you hoped it was Gavi that brought you there. For safety reasons (nothing else ofc). No one would come near you while walking with Gavi.
As your phone came back on, you heard the *ding* of about 80 messages. You finished washing your face and headed over to check.
[Martin Zubimmendi]: Sad that you didn't invite me in last night. Hope to see you again soon Bonita xx
[Gavi]: Text me when you get up so I know you're alive.
[Gavi]: Are you coming in today?
[Dr. Gonzalez]: Please call me immediately about missing this morning's shift.
It was only after reading that last one that you looked at the time. 10:41am. You had missed all of the morning activities at the camp.
"Good morning Dr. Gonzalez! You wanted me to call?"
"The morning is almost over, miss. I was informed by Pablo this morning that you were at an appointment and not to expect you until noon. Please note it is not appropriate to have the players relay messages for you. In the future, please communicate with me directly about any hours you will miss."
You unclenched your jaw, relived over the fact that you still had a job.
"Yes sir. I apologize. I'll speak with you directly next time. See you at noon."
You ran to get changed, and as you waited for your coffee to brew, you texted your savior.
[You]: you're actually the best friend on the planet. Thank you for covering for me.
[Gavi]: 1. I know I'm the best and 2. You owe me
[You]: anything you want
[Gavi]: famous last words doctora
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A/N: I'm hoping the length will keep y'all at bay for a few days. I have been feeling kinda crappy about myself for the last few days, which is why I have missed some of the prompt challenge. Reading messages and comments from y'all has made me feel better, so thanks <3 I am going to make the parts longer from now on to avoid the story being like 25 parts. Please feel free to leave any feedback/ comments. I love hearing from y'all (bonus points if you also say y'all).
Songs I listened to while writing this: Often (the Weeknd), Starboy (the Weeknd), Baby (madison beer), Primadonna (marina & the diamonds), CALL ME BACK (Chase Atlantic), Test me (Melanie Martinez), The Eve (EXO), Sneakers (Knox), Okay (Chase Atlantic), 18 (Anarbor), FOOLS (troye sivan), The A Team (Ed Sheeran), Disasterology (PTV), You're on your own kid (Taylor Swift), Ya'burnee (Halsey), Emergency contact (PTV), A match into water (PTV), Josslyn (olivia o'brien), Anti-hero (Taylor Swift), English love affair (5sos), needy (ariana grande), if you can't hang (Sleeping with Sirens), Talk me down (troye sivan), Young God (Halsey), mockingbird (eminem), would've could've should've (taylor swift), Can I (kehlani), Mary on a cross (Ghost), Happier (ed sheeran), Roman Holiday (Halsey), Dangerous woman (ariana grande), Devil in me (Halsey), lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off (P!ATD), funeral (pheobe bridgers).
*~*Taglist*~*
@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle
*pls let me know if you want to be added
#pablo martín páez gavira#pablo gavi slow burn#pablo gavi x reader#pablo gavi imagine#pablo gavi#gavi x reader#gavi#gavi x you#gavi fluff#fc barca#footballer imagine#footballer#pablo gavi fluff#gavi fic#pablo gavi fanfiction#gavi fanfic#gavisuntiedboot
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Huh I totally don’t know why but I want to send in a request. Can I request a Larissa x reader where the reader just loves food. Like gets excited over any food type of love. And Larissa finds it adorable and loves bringing treats for reader. One day, Larissa invites them over to her place so she can cook their favourite food and reader is just like “I’m so happy I could kiss you!” out of pure excitement and Larissa’s like “so do it.”. I just want wholesome fluff yknow? Thank you!!
Delicious
Larissa weems x reader
Warnings:none
Not proof read, hope this is okay anon!
“Good afternoon, Y/N,” Larissa warmly greeted as she made her way to your desk. She looked as ethereal as always. A lovely grey patterned dress, a matching floor length coat, and her signature lip shade. You couldn’t help but try to savor the view whenever you saw her. She was beautiful and she knew it.
“Likewise, Ms.Weems,” you rested your chin on your palm, “I hope your day’s gone well so far,” you gave her your full attention. “Oh, please, Y/N Dear. No need for the formalities,” she chuckled and went on about a new salad she had tried at a local restaurant. “Yes, I didn’t think I’d ever love a salad so much,” she joked. “That sounds delicious I’ll have to try it soon,” glancing down at your hands. “Well, actually,” She began to shuffle around in her tote bag trying to find something, “aha, there it is! I brought you one,” the biggest grin spread across her face as she saw your eyes go wide and your mouth drop in excitement. “Oh. My. God. You’re amazing!” You cheered as you took the to-go box from her hands. Hopping out of your chair, you walked around your desk and gave Larissa a hug. You swayed the two of you back and forth and repeated your thanks.
Larissa had learned about your love of food a few weeks ago. You had practically gushed all morning about the amazing cheesecake croissants you had at the diner. She inquired about your favorite sweets and go-to meals, making sure to carefully listen. She filed everything she learned about you neatly in her brain. Larissa had brought in a pack of sugar cookies one day, simply because she thought you’d like them. After seeing your face light up and your child-like excitement, she swore she would bring you a treat every day she was able to. Cookies, pastas, you name it. She would bring it all for you.
You had just finished up the last stack of papers for work and decided you might as well offer Larissa the opportunity to go eat at her favorite restaurant. Walking down the hallway, you chatted with a few of the students before reaching her office. You knocked on the wall to announce yourself, “Hey Rissa! How’s it going?” You couldn’t help but notice how lovely she looked in the light from the fireplace. “I simply cannot wait to get out of here, Y/N. I’m starving,” she looked up at you occasionally, as she finished typing her document. Humming as you sat on the leather couch, “That’s actually why I’m here! I wanted to see if you cared to join me at the Lavender House?” You perched your arms on the edge of the cushion, awaiting her response.
She seemed absolutely delighted that you had asked to grab a meal with her. Tilting her head in thought, she smiled softly. “Actually, dear, why don’t I cook us a meal tonight? You can come over at, let’s see…” she paused, looking at the golden watch on her arm, “seven-thirty? Does that sound okay?”
Your breath caught in your chest. Larissa, was inviting you over to her place for a home cooked meal? No, way. What if you made a fool of yourself! Oh…but imagine how delicious her food would taste; how divine she’d look as she maneuvered her way through her kitchen. Larissa’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, “Y/N? If you’d rather not, we could just-“ hastily interrupting her, “What! No, yes, I’d love to! I think it’d be lovely,” trying to catch your breath and play it cool. She no more but chuckled before shaking her head.
Swapping out your flats for converse, and your jeans for some something more comfortable, you headed out the door of your room. You fiddled with your hands the entire walk over. Partially because you had a crush on Larissa, but also, you were wired on excitement for the food that you were sure to love. With how she carried herself at work; the way she so confidently dealt with everything, you could only imagine the way she was at home. You, once again, knocked on the door and waited for her response. “Coming!” You heard her shout from the other side. You had turned your head to look down the hall, just as she opened the door. She giggled at the sight of you, rocking back and forth on your heels.
The aroma that floated its way through the apartment was sublime. Trailing behind Larissa, you noticed how much more relaxed she seemed. It was such a difference from seeing her hold up her professional front, and being so proper nearly every second of the day. It was attractive. The apron wrapped around her waist, her patterned socks, the way she swayed behind the island. You were so focused on her, you nearly didn’t notice the appetizers she had set out. “Holy shit. Can I- CAN I HAVE ONE OF THOSE?” You were in disbelief. This woman had just set out a platter of your favorite cheddar biscuits, you were surely in love now, if you hadn’t already been before. “Yes, silly! They’re for us to enjoy while I finish dinner. Although, it looks as though it might finish early,” she spoke softly as she checked the oven.
You kicked your feet and hummed, rejoicing in every ounce of flavor you pulled from that appetizer. “Fuck, I love you,” you held your face as you shoved the remaining half of the biscuit in your mouth. “Wh-what?” Larissa spun her head and stared at you with furrowed brows. “Oh! The uh.. the biscuits! They’re to die for,” hiding your face as you blushed. She continued plating the meal as she laughed at your reaction. She sat your plate in front of you and told you to go ahead and begin eating while she grabbed a bottle of wine. Drooling the instant you saw the food, you grabbed your fork, and shoved a potato in your mouth. Back with the wine, Larissa leaned on her elbows in front of you. Watching your expression she asked how the food was. “This is so good, I could kiss you right now!” You praised. “Do it,” she smirked and leaned in closer. “Huh?” Wide-eyed, you couldn’t tell if she was being serious. “Do it. Kiss me,” flickering her gaze from your lips to your eyes. You decided, “fuck it,” and grabbed her face. Immediately returning the gesture, she smiled into your kiss. Her lips were soft and they tasted like the wine she had previously drank. You pulled back and laughed, “ You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you, Riss.” Turns out, she’s been just as head over heels for you. You simply hadn’t noticed.
You both finished your meals and you helped her clean the kitchen. “Thank you for dinner, Riss, it was so good,” complimenting her again on her cooking.
Dinner at her place had become a weekly tradition and you honestly couldn’t be happier. Well, maybe with muffin, but still.
#larissa weems#principal larissa weems#principal weems#wednesday weems#gwendoline christie#larissa x reader#weems
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Over Snacks
You don’t know really when it began, this little thing with the ADA. It just did. You just found you both had a mutual love of snacks and coffee. Both of you seemingly making beeline for the snacks in the draw of your desk, or the coffee pot in his office. You didn’t really think anything of it, but others surely did.
It was like any other day, you were sat at your desk filling out the statement your most recent victim had made, getting everything onto the system as the investigation began to take full flow.
It was late afternoon and a cup of now cooling coffee sat next you, Barba came strutting into the precinct. Ignoring the smirks of your fellow teammates, you barely reacted as the man as usual immediately headed to your desk and perched himself on the edge looking at you expectantly.
‘Can I help you with something councillor?’ You asked grabbing your coffee mug settling back in your seat looking up at the smirking man.
‘Come on, you going to make me beg, even now?’ asked Barba batting his eyes.
‘Well a please would be nice’ you scoffed taking a final sip of your coffee before placing it on your desk, before leaning over the side of your chair to open up the bottom draw behind the man’s legs.
‘Pretzels or fish crackers?’ You asked.
‘Pretzels’ smirked Barba immediately tucking into the tub when you handed it to him.
‘Thanks’ you snorted when the man made a small pile on your desk.
‘You’re welcome’ said Barba grinning as he put away the tub, closing the draw and heading into Olivia’s office with his own handful.
‘What?’ You huffed when you spotted everyone looking at you with smirks on their faces.
‘Come on… you and Barba’ smirked Finn.
‘What about me and Barba?’ You asked with a frown.
‘Flirting like children over Pretzels’ smiled Rollins.
‘Behave’ you scoffed.
‘There was definitely flirtatious body language coming from you both’ grinned Carisi.
‘Seriously you guys are way off the mark’ you said turning back to your report.
It wasn’t until later into the evening you made your way to the ADA’s building, you had a question that popped into your head on your way home and seeing as you passed the building you decided to just pop in.
Wondering up the stairs and onto Barba’s office level, unsurprised to find his assistant Carmen having gone home already. Not realising he had someone with him, you opened the door and poked your head in.
‘What are you a bat?’ Snarked Rita who was sat in front of Barba’s desk.
‘Well I hope it wasn’t anything bad’ you said raising an eyebrow.
‘It wasn’t, Rita was actually just leaving’ huffed Barba.
‘There’s no need to be a grump, don’t forget what I said Rafael’ said Rita, grabbing her bag getting to her feet.
‘Detective’ Rita said as you stood to the side to let the women out the office.
‘Defence Vulture’ you replied earning a cackle from the women as she left.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt’ you said sheepishly, suddenly finding it very awkward.
‘Don’t be you saved me actually, Rita actually popped in on her way from dinner with her husband, don’t suppose I can encourage you to help me with these?’ Asked Barba opening the plastic bag on top his desk revealing two cheesecakes clearly from the Cheesecake Factory.
‘Don’t need to ask me twice’ you grinned all but running to the coffee cart Barba had set up, filling up both your usual mugs with the ever steaming hot brew, missing the fond look Barba shot you behind your back.
‘Now I don’t care what anyone says, this is the best way to spend a Friday night’ you grinned, practically vibrating in your seat after your first bite of the sweet treat.
Not getting any response you turned to man sat on the couch next to you, finding green eyes staring at you with the softest look, making you practically turn into a blushing mess at the intensity.
‘God, you’re so undeniably beautiful’ blurted out Barba.
‘I…I..’ you stuttered only to have Barba real back in shock.
‘Oh god, I’m sorry, that was… I’m sorry I’m not being perverted…. You must find me disgusting’ backtracked Barba quickly.
‘What? You compliment me then take it back, don’t be ridiculous’ you said immediately grabbing the man’s hand instantly.
‘Y/N’ sighed Barba almost sadly.
‘No… I mean it… because I kind of think the same about you’ you said squeezing the man’s hand.
‘I’m quite a bit older than you’ said Barba weakly, flipping his hand over in yours, fingers linked together.
‘Seriously, for a mouthy lawyer that was weak even for you’ you teased, earning a chuckle from the man.
‘It was wasn’t it’ chuckled Barba.
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ You asked.
‘I honestly thought it was just a work thing for you, so I was just happy to have you as a friend, because at least then I could still love you’ said Barba.
‘Love me?’ You whispered, Barba blushing hotly.
‘I do…. Love you, I think you’re so incredible’ replied Barba softly.
‘Raf, I think you’re an amazing man…. I’m just… I’m so angry with myself for not saying something earlier’ you said, Barba chuckling softly shaking his head.
‘Me too carino me too’ smiled Barba letting go of your hand to cup the side of your face, using his thumb to stroke your skin.
Turning your head, you kissed the man’s lips palm, closing your eyes, keeping your face in the man’s hand. With your eyes still shut, you felt your face being carefully guided, your heart hammering in your chest. Finally, a warm set of lips softly pressed to yours.
It was just a simple kiss, nothing heated, but it was perfect, Barba broke away leaving his nose against yours, his forehead resting now lightly against yours.
‘I think cheesecake is going to become my favourite treat now’ you whispered opening your eyes.
‘Mine too’
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CHARACTER INFO SHEET ;
NAME : utahime iori
NAME MEANING : iori : hermitage , uta : poetry or song , hime : princess
ALIAS : utahime - sensei , utahime - senpai , uta , hime ,
ETHNICITY : japanese
ONE PICTURE / ICON YOU LIKE BEST OF YOUR CHARACTER :
THREE HCS YOU NEVER TOLD ANYONE :
she has two brothers : i've posted a family hc before stating that she was an only child but I changed my mind — her behavior suggests that she has at least one sibling. i believe utahime to be the oldest of three. her brothers , takuto & setsuko , are twins : born 6 years after utahime . they're both annoying and love to irritate / tease their older sister. ( the origin of her short fuse. ) her brothers are both jujutsu sorcerers, however, while utahime and takuto specialize in providing support, setsuko has a more powerful and combat ready technique. takuto is able to use his technique ‘ lullaby ‘ in different ways depending on the song he sings, in general definition he’s able to destabilize curses, cursed users, and even sorcerers if needed. setsuku has a technique that’s more power focused , dubbing the name banshee, you can infer what he's capable of.
sweet things : it's common knowledge that utahime doesn't like sweets, while that's true i do see her liking more organic sweets that comes from fruit, therefore my portrayal of utahime includes her favorite dessert being a fruit cheesecake , favoring a tangy sweet rather than the intense sweet that most candies and sweets have.
celestia : growing up, utahime was extremely fascinated with the moon and stars, and even to this day she can point out the stars and constellations when she's given the chance to look up and observe the sky and she'll likely start to ramble on about which ones are where and it gets her a little more out of that polite and proper shell she has a lot of the time.
THREE THINGS YOUR CHARACTER LIKES TO DO IN THEIR FREE TIME :
karaoke . . . she loves to sing in general , often taking time through her day to aimlessly sing or hum, obviously she sings in the shower ( if she has music playing ) . she's always loved to sing, always had a knack for it, and with a voice as pretty as hers ? you'd want her to.
drink ! . . . there's not much else i can say, utahime likes to drink and it's how she unwinds after her stress induced days supervising and all, she prefers beer over anything else but that doesn't mean she won't drink anything else. her tolerance is dependent on what type of alcohol / liquor it is.
read . . . since she was able to, she's loved to read. usually she's perched somewhere, working through one of the many books she's bought and put aside for later ( work keeps her busy ). her favorite genres include romance and action , sometimes fantasy. not to mention the word puzzles she likes to do, crosswords, word searches, etc.
PEOPLE YOUR CHARACTER LIKES / LOVES :
shoko : her closest friend , a confidant, shoko is a constant in her life that she doesn't have to worry about watering herself down for ( not like she really does anyway but regardless ) , she's completely herself around shoko and catch up no matter how long it's been inbetween their visits. she really loves shoko, is perhaps overly protective of her ( all her friends ) and i can see utahime actually telling shoko anything whereas she may hold herself back from telling mei mei anything that could be compromising .
yuuka iori : her grandmother , a woman that's raw, she always says whats on her mind and doesn't hold anything in, she has a more rancid sense of humor ( she's one of the fun old people ) . but she's always been closer to her grandmother.
Her students : yeah this is a bit of a cliché probably but ! Above all else, utahime loves her students as if they were her own children ! she ahs a special place in her heart for each of them, and applies herself accordingly but just like gojo, she'd be willing to die for those students.
TWO THINGS YOUR CHARACTER REGRETS :
her scar : she didn’t have to take the mission, she was already training to become a teacher vs. staying a active sorcerer, because her strengths laid in her ability ot easily teach others, often tutoring when she was at tokyo. her scar was given to her thanks to the special grade curse that had originally presented as a grade 2. she regrets how confident she had been going into the fight, knowing what she knows now, that she almost died killing it, she would have been much more careful, maybe she wouldn't have taken it or at least had some backup. her scar taunted her for a while, eventually she had no choice but to deal with the fact that she'd forever have that reminder of her weakness.
goodbyes : utahime's father passed away shortly after her scar healed, it was a very intense time for her and she lives to regret never being able to say goodbye the way she wanted. he grew sick, but he's always had a stronger immune sysetem than the rest of the family, that being said, he died suddenly, on a rainy november morning. if she was given the chance, if she had known ! then she would have made sure he was aware of the love she had for him, the only girl surrounded by her brothers she was a daddy's girl, her dad's soft spot, and they had a bond to resemble that. her biggest regret is never telling her dather how much she loved him.
ONE PHOBIA YOUR CHARACTER HAS : etomophobia , aka the fear of bugs. she will scream ! and cry ! she hates them so much, will call somebody if there's a spider in her apartment.
#standing man emoji#i finally finished it#i have no clue what i've written here but enjoy#。＊ ˚ ⭒ . ✶ meta . ❜
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On the Other Side of the Screen (part 1)
You were surprised when you heard from Nahida that he left for Inazuma a while back. Thanking the young Archon by giving her some modern sweets, you teleport to the land of eternity.
A.K.A in which a little wanderer and an administrator have some milk tea while looking at comments about him
(written before 3.3 hits, probably ooc)
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You were surprised when you heard from Nahida that he left for Inazuma a while back. Thanking the young Archon by giving her some modern sweets, you teleport to the land of eternity.
It took you a good while to find him in Inazuma. If he's in Tatarasuna, then it's not a good time to disturb him. If he's in Tenshukaku, then you don't want to be in his way. Even though you want to hear his conversations with Ei... But who are you to disturb their privacy?
Luckily, you finally found him on Seirai instead. He was idling at Asase Shrine, petting the cats and even feeding some of them, with a few birds perched on his hat and shoulders. You secretly took a few pics before greeting him.
"Hey, Raiden!"
He flinched when he heard your voice, scurrying to get up and tried to shoo the cats and birds away to make him look more intimidating in front of you. Unfortunately for him, you already adjusted the system so that the cats and birds never left him until sunset.
Now he really looks like a Disney Princess! You internally laughed maniacally. Oh, if only those diehard fans could see him in this state...
"Having fun with your friends, Raiden?"
"... Don't call me that." He glared at you.
"But aren't you the one who allows me to name you whatever I want?"
He then scoffed. "Just call me Jun."
"Okay, Raiden Jun!"
Ah, now he looks like he wants to conjure a tornado and blow you to kingdom come. You'll get revived anyway, so you're not exactly worried.
You sat by him and placed the plastic cups in front of you, ignoring his sigh. One of the cats - Meshi, if you recall, got onto your lap and sat while purring. You resist the urge to scream because of the ticklish sensation. You instead took the boba tea you ordered, taro cheesecake with extra sugar out of the plastic bag, piercing the cup with extra precision.
"How can you even enjoy something that can give you diabetes?" He asked with a revolted tone.
"Well, I've drunk worse." You take a sip of what you considered liquid gold. "And I concentrate more when I drink sweets! Can you fault me, someone who has to focus to keep this world up and running from taking a rest that she oh so needs?"
He went silent at that, probably giving up on trying to bicker with you. Though you can sense some form of worry from his tone.
You did look into the mirror before you came here. Your training in the police station has been rough, forming eye bags and creases on your beautiful, youthful face. Thankfully, it's December, and your training is finally over. So now you get to enjoy a month of vacation and witness one of the major events in the history of this game.
"It's been a long time coming, 2 years in the making, but your banner will finally be here! Tomorrow, I'll perform some maintenance and change the banner. Your and Itto's banners will be the first phase, while Ei and Ayato's will be second.”
"Heh, didn't think you'd take my request seriously." He took his straw and poke the top of his boba cup, leaving trails all over the thin plastic.
"I'm more surprised that you'd rather be with Mr. Redhorn Himbo than with her." You playfully wag your finger near his face. "Or could it be that you took interest in Itto?"
He swatted your finger away with an annoyed look, tipping his hat slowly so as to not alarm the birds perched on it.
"He's not a puny mortal, even if he really is an idiot. That oni is at least worthy of my presence."
And yet he has been secretly praising Kazuha about his entire achievement against Musou no Hitotachi...
Ladies and gentlemen, if you were to search for 'tsundere' in the urban dictionary, this man's face would surely appear!
"... Aren't you excited?"
"About what?"
"About the many people that will wish for you? Oh, I bet your banner will landslide even Nahida's banner!"
"Hmph, as if they'll even pull for me."
You stopped drinking at that, trying to get a good look at his face. His eyes are closed and he has his arms crossed, and his breath is almost even. Almost.
"... Jun, wanna hear a story?"
While he didn’t respond, you continued, petting Meshi in your lap.
"I actually have a friend who saved up just for you."
He moved a bit in the corner of your eyes.
"Of course, he did pull for other characters. But he had a golden rule to keep 10 wishes on his savings from last month. For example, if he got around 70 Fates in the last month, he will only spend 60 and nothing more. He already accumulated 240 Fates for you in the past two years, and an extra 110 since last month and anniversary reset." You shake your head. "Of course, because of that, he only got a few characters doubled by his shit luck. Can you believe he almost got all of Diluc and Qiqi’s constellation? He also only buys genesis when the thing refreshes, which only happened 2 times."
“Really? Someone as pathetic as him trying to get his hands on me? He wish.”
“That’s what he thought at first, too. He was like ‘’I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who wants this guy.’’ and got a little insecure.”
You waved your hand, summoning a hologram screen for the two of you. As the Administrator, it’s your job to collect thoughts and reviews of fans to find out what they want. What they think of certain gameplay, world building, and other such things. Thoughts about characters aren’t an exception.
"But then many people appear. A lot of them are interested in you. They don’t even want you to change, just being yourself is enough for them to like you.”
On the monitor, comments about him pass by like a river. Some comments show disdain of him - as he expected. Some show curiosity about his past, some show even infatuation and interest.
"I do admit that some of them are... Well, masochist who wants you to step all over them." He snorted when he saw the comments that implied so. "But some of them genuinely want you to be a part of their team."
He then saw it. Many wished him to have a happy life, to befriend other Vision Holders, to be freed from his past that deeply troubles him. Some even thought about putting him in the same team as Kazuha and Ei.
"Venturing the woods, eating under the stars, meeting new people... Being truly free. It's what they want for you." You continue drinking again for a while, leaving him with his thoughts as he looks up to the azure sky.
"Freedom? Heh, funny that it came in the form of being bound to them."
"Without love, freedom is empty. And without freedom, love is just another word for shackles."
After looking at the comments together for a while, you eventually dispel the monitor, glancing at his drink that must have gone bland since most of the ice has melted.
"... You're not drinking your tea?"
"You really know how to spite me, don't you?"
I laughed. "Well, I'm the Administrator, after all. I know a lot about you." You ripped the cup open and slid the remaining pearls to your mouth. “The stall ran out of boba, by the way. Yours didn’t have any.” But in reality, you asked Tomoki not to give his milk tea pearls.
“Must be my lucky day.” He finally stabbed his cup and took a sip on his milk tea. There was less sugar and milk this time, so the taste of the tea was more prominent, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste.
"Disgusting." He sniffed, wiping his tears away.
You patted him on the back and took another sip, and then another, and then another one, until the entire thing was empty, making you smile wholeheartedly.
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Author's notes:
Me: I'm not writing a sagau until we reach Khaenri'ah
Also me: Wrote a 1.3k sagau for a character I'm initially indifferent about
I'm not interested Scaramouche back when I met him in Unreconciled Stars (other than the fact he looks like Raiden Mei), but he recently grow on me.
I named him "Jun" because it means "pure, innocent", which is what he was back then, and probably still is deep down. I'm not a character analysis expert, so idk. I just think it clicks with him and roll with it.
I've saved up 70 pulls for him, but have no guaranteed. Maybe this will help me drag him home by the collar? We'll see.
I hope all Scaramouche/Wanderer/what you want to name him become havers!
#genshin impact#genshin sagau#sagau#scaramouche#idk if this counts as Scaramouche x reader#since the reader is her own character#but that will be a mystery for another day#genshin administrator au
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The Confectioner’s Tale | Chapter 2
as sweet as blood and chocolate 🩸
(speaking of, new chapter of that coming)
There was a rumor spread about me some time ago. I had no idea as to when it had manifested or when it came into fruition, but somehow I had gotten word that the kids down the street were saying that I made cupcakes out of human flesh and blood. At first, my colleagues and I had laughed it off, and I believed it to be because we served cupcakes at Halloween with a cherry red glaze over the top so as to resemble to blood: we also had cakes with decorations in the shape of human fingers and eyeballs. I figured that it was simply Halloween fun from the neighborhood children: I was a kid in northern Nevada, and Halloween was a huge deal in Carson City, and so, I knew it all too well.
Then the health department showed up.
The memory of being questioned by the health inspector and having my pantry looked at down to every last molecule of flour and sugar had been etched in my memory from thence forth. I was still wary of keeping red food coloring in the pantry near the decoration tools because I knew that it could be mistaken as blood.
I had considered myself as a kitchen witch of sorts, what with my long dark bushy hair down to my waist and my brown eyes in contrast with my pale olive-toned skin. I had been to Cyprus and Israel, the latter of which a few times to say in the least. I was all too familiar with Canada and Britain. I was an artist on top of being elbow-deep in pastry and bread doughs.
But I knew in my heart of hearts that one of these days, I was going to have to find my out of Los Angeles and mosey on up to Reno again.
What you see as somewhat above you, you watch with eyes that burn like cigarettes no matter what the context.
I had the bricks of cream cheese out on the counter next to me and the mixer, as well as the sour cream, half a stick of butter, six eggs, and the jar of vanilla extract. I had already crafted out the graham cracker crust and had put it in the fridge for chilling for about twenty minutes.
Chill for twenty, bake for twenty-five, as my boss had advised me on the first time around.
I couldn’t stop thinking about those two boys as I began work on that lush New York cheesecake: it was going to take longer than the Bailey’s cake given it had to sit in the fridge and chill for a whole day once I had finished it, which meant Alex wasn’t going to get his slice until the morning hours at the very least. I hoped that he would understand, and I hoped that he would still be there come the morning as well.
Boiling water in the roasting pan where the springform pan would be set within, and I hoped that the cake would set.
I had only made all of three New York style cheesecakes before then, the first of which was at home, and thus, I was a bit nervous to start with.
In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I found rather interesting that I had gotten a Jewish boy as well as another guy from New York, and there I was crafting out a state dessert complete with a small grouping of fresh raspberries on top.
Once time was up, I opened the oven door and checked on the cake, nestled inside of the shiny springform pan and the steaming water bath.
An ever so slight wobble in the middle was all I needed.
My heart skipped a beat when I knew it was just right, and I took the smooth pale yellow disk right out of the heat with my red silicone oven mitts. I perched the cake on the wire rack next to me for a moment; I then took off the springform, albeit with some care so as to make sure the cake was fully set in place. The latch clicked off and the filling stayed put as it should. I let out a low whistle and tucked it into the top shelf of the pale purple refrigerator, and then I got right to work on that Bailey’s cake for Pete.
There sat a brand new rich black bottle of the liqueur in the back of the pantry, and as I took it out of hiding, I had a flashback to when Ben was in the picture.
They were never that much of heavy drug users, but they did enjoy some drinks and some recklessness every now and again. But Ben had the most nefarious of habits with his smoking. He made it look so cool and yet so repulsive at that same time as he leaned against the brick wall with a cigarette rested on his bow-shaped lips and his long shaggy, bushy hair dangled down over his face. I had only known him via writing and what I had seen from afar, but the thought of the smoke caressing and cutting into his skin, a subtle poison sharper than any knife, only made me nauseous. I may have had my inkling for him, but I had my doubts about kissing him should the opportunity ever make its way to my mind
Maybe it was just my own naïveté in thinking that I could fix him. I often fantasized about getting together with him and we could find a way to get away from those damned things. To clear away the smoke so he could smile and breathe without choking on his own oxygen.
I had my fantasies, about talking to him face to face, about going on a date with him.
They were fantasies until I acted upon them.
I returned to reality as I made the chocolate ganache for the Bailey’s cake.
Unsweetened chocolate with heavy cream and a tablespoon of that smooth liqueur over a bain-marie.
I wondered what those boys were doing across the street as I glimpsed over at the time on the two tiers in the oven. Only five doors separated them, and I knew that the smell of the Bailey’s cake would attract attention amongst themselves once the time came for me. Five doors and five minutes.
I let the ganache set for a second on the stove so it would stay warm for the time being, and I began the buttercream frosting. Oh, what a glorious bitch that was buttercream frosting.
I switched on the mixer to low speed and took another glimpse up to the shelf with the boxes of cake decorations. A part of me wanted to whip out the fake blood again, just to see how they would react across the street. I may have been a baker, but I was a baker who gave a blessing to the kitchens I worked in.
I had my witchcraft, and they both had the shadows on their eyes and the hair as black as night. A rumor or not, it made sense in the strangest way as the cream manifested itself right before my eyes. I switched off the mixer, and within seconds, the timer went off. I put the mitts back on and took the cake pans out of the oven: the rich dark chocolate batter had risen toward the edges of the fine silver pans in a slight dome shape, and I knew they were done with a mere pat of my fingertip.
I let them cool for a few minutes before I took each of them out of the pans and spread the ganache over the bottom tier. It seemed a bit of a rush as the tiers had to cool all the way, but I figured that it was cool enough in that kitchen that they would temper down enough to work with. Or perhaps not as they steamed once released from the pans.
All the while, I flashed a glimpse over at the refrigerator door, and I thought about that cheesecake. It had to chill before I could do anything to it, and so far, it had only been about an hour.
I was going to have to spill to Alex once I walked on out of there with the Bailey’s cake for Pete.
I cleaned up the kitchen a bit so as to let the tiers cool some more, and I once again had another flashback to Ben. When the rumor that we were using human flesh and blood in our baked goods, and I was supposedly the one responsible for it, I thought about Ben talking about being a twenty-year-old kid and living on Bainbridge Island, far removed from the rest of the world. Chris had said the last thing any kid would ever want to do was knock on Ben’s door for any reason whatsoever, not even if his house was on fire, because Ben would greet them with a double-barrel twelve-gage. I always wondered how much truth there was to that, and if any kid had ever gone to the hospital with a slug of lead embedded in the back of their head.
I was in love with a potential murderer as far as I knew, and I shuddered at the thought.
As I wiped down the counter over the display case with a cloth, I looked on at myself in the reflection of the shiny silvery metal. As silver as the tiny plume in Alex’s hair.
Oh, flesh and blood. The thing that bounded us and the thing that could have done us in more so than the nickname of the “tombstone mile”.
A shadow emerged from behind the glass front door, and I took a glimpse up for a look outside there. A tall, burly man with long wavy hair the color of the Bailey’s cake, smooth skin kissed by the sun, and long lanky arms strode across the street; when he extended his hand out to the door handle, I caught a glimpse of the silver cross on his middle finger.
“Hey!” he greeted me once he stepped inside; he took off his mirrored sunglasses and showed me brilliant blue eyes in sharp contrast of his dark skin.
“Hey!” I returned the favor, albeit with a bit of reluctance as he was just a stranger to me.
“I’m with Alex, who came in here earlier,” he told me as the door closed behind him. He lightly smelled of cologne, beer, and incense, and it helped that he donned a turquoise bracelet on his left wrist. “I’m Chuck.”
“Chuck! I’m Hannah. What can I do for you?”
“I just came to see how you’re doing,” he replied. “He told me about you and the cheesecake you’re making just for him.”
“Aw!” I brought a hand to my chest at that, and I could feel my heart skipping a few beats. This was a first for me, especially after everything that Ben and I had gone through before. I could feel my face growing warm as a result of that.
“And let me guess, you want a slice yourself,” I quipped, to which he shrugged.
“Maybe. I guess I could also check out what else you got given this is a bakery and a rather infamous one at that, as well.”
“The cake has to cool for eight hours,” I told him, “and we’re not that infamous, either.” I flashed him a wink, and he returned the favor with a sly grin. His luminous eyes swept down to my chest and the pendant around my neck for a moment. He squinted at it, and then, like the sun outside of there, his face lit up.
“Oh, that says ‘Soundgarden’! Love those cats.”
“Favorite band in the whole world,” I said with one hand on my hip as if to indicate my pride. “I wrote a string of letters to their bass player Ben.”
“Oh, that’s so cool! Anything come of that?”
And I sighed through my nose. He raised his eyebrows at that.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I used to like him,” I confessed with a shrug. “I never did get even so much as a ‘boo’ out of him.”
Chuck leaned over the top of the display case and folded his arms over the edge.
“You deserve better,” he assured me in a low voice. “You deserve so much better than to be left in the dark like that.”
I showed him a smile.
“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you,” I said.
“I mean it, though!” Chuck insisted. “You deserve to feel something in the midst of everything.” He ran his fingers through his dark waves, to which he craned his neck for a look into the kitchen behind me.
“By the way, what else is baking in here? It smells wonderful.”
“A chocolate cake laced with powdered espresso and Bailey’s,” I replied. “A favorite at St. Paddy’s Day and a special one for a guy who came in before Alex.”
Chuck paused for a second.
“Was it a tall guy? Taller than me? Long jet-black hair and big bright green eyes? Looks like he could either drain you of your blood or kill a man with his bare hands?”
“Yes, actually,” I stammered.
“He and his band are staying right next door to us,” he replied. “We’re on separate tours, but we’re in the same hotel.”
“Oh, my god, really?”
“Yeah! Small world, right?”
“As small as the petits-fours we’ll be making coming up here soon enough,” I quipped. Chuck took a glimpse down to the case before him right then: the glass always got too warm if someone leaned up against it like that, but he seemed to be double-taking on something under the glass.
“What’s this right here?” he asked me with a gesture to the box on the shelf right before me.
“Malassadas,” I replied. “They’re basically Portuguese donuts, covered in cinnamon and sugar. Pretty big over in Hawai’i as well as the Azores, and also me as I’m Portuguese.”
“I’m Mexican and Native American,” he added. “We’re curators of the damned.”
“And I’ll be damned, too,” I cracked, which in turn brought a big chuckle out of him.
“I’ll take one of those, and how long do you think that Bailey’s cake is going to be?”
“I took the tiers out of the oven about ten minutes ago and they have to cook before I could frost and assemble them,” I explained. “So, about… twenty minutes or so.” I paused. “Why?”
“Let me walk you over there once it’s done,” he suggested. “You know. Woman walking across the street in L.A. with a chocolate cake in her arms.”
I squinted my eyes at that. This totally was nothing like Ben, or like Soundgarden for that matter.
“Let me get that malassada for you,” I said to him in a low voice.
#fanfic#fanfiction#testament#testament fanfic#testament band#chuck billy#oc tag#chapter 2#type o negative#soundgarden#ben shepherd#peter steele#also on ao3#writing#text#the confectioner’s tale fanfic#the confectioner’s tale
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tbh it’s so comforting to refer to the system as a whole as “us”. like yeah if you don’t believe me you can ask my buddy earl
#cheesecake’s perch#pluralistic#plural culture#pluralgang#plural positivity#actually plural#plural community#systemblr#median system#actually mediple#actually median
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Reposting because this deserves its own solo love ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)
Dom Feedee Tae <3
Taehyung comes home one Friday evening and Jungkook is perched on the counter spilling out of pink lingerie that used to fit him. He's so creamy and soft as he stretches the lace and silk, and his thighs bulge out of the tops of the stockings.
Jungkook is surrounded by bags and bags of Tae's favorite fast-food restaurants. It's an entire feast. Jungkook gives him a cute smile, and tells Tae that he's *his* for the whole night to do whatever he pleases. Jungkook knows that Tae hasn't been properly stuffed in a while, mostly because it's so expensive with how MUCH Tae can eat, which is exactly why he wants to present all of this as a gift.
His boyfriend prefers enjoying the dom feedee role when he's getting stuffed, and Kook loves being his subby feeder. He has all of the food and two-liters of soda ready, and he's sitting among the feast like the cherry on top. He giggles at his boyfriend's dark expression. He's so ready to sit in his lap and do anything Tae demands. With Tae completely in control of him, Jungkook will follow instructions really well and keep feeding him until Taehyung is pinned to the spot.
Jungkook also has his own favorite flavor of cheesecake ready, because Tae always gets really handsy after he's full and growls about how he wants to stuff his plump little sub. Jungkook has the cake waiting in the fridge for after Tae has devoured everything and is pawing at Jungkook's belly, groaning that he wants to watch Jungkook stuff his cute face and fatten up on something sweet.
It's like a reward for being good all night as they stuff Tae, and Jungkook is getting squirmy and fizzy just thinking about his dom boyfriend- too full to move- ordering him to eat the entire thing while Jungkook straddles his lap and complies.
Taehyung's stuffed gut is so full that it's like a table, and Jungkook sets the cheesecake on it, just to bury his face in when Tae orders him to "eat up." Taehyung purrs little praises as he watches the gorgeous scene unfold. He greedily holds Jungkook's belly to feel as he gets a little chubbier with every swallow and grows fatter in his hands.
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Day 39 - Barbadelo to Portomarin
It was another 12 miler today.
After a very restless night (the bites on my arms are very extensive and pretty horrific) we were up at 6:30 as usual and on the road about 20 past 7. It is noticeable that the path has become more busy and there was a steady stream of people coming up from Sarria.
The sun was only just up and everything looked very pretty looking backwards.
We did our usual trick of walking for a few miles before stopping for breakfast. When we did stop Rian had just arrived ahead of us so we had breakfast together. I stuck to a croissant but Jane decided to go off piste and have a pasty, which wasn’t the best of moves. She described it as baby food wrapped in pastry, delightful!
From Sarria onwards you are supposed to get two stamps per day on your Camino passport to prove you walked the path. The cafe had a stamp at its entrance so we got ours when we went in. We then proceeded to watch two older women draw up in a taxi, get a stamp without stopping for a coffee, get back in the taxi and disappear. I’m not sure that’s really the spirit of the Camino. We did see them a bit later posing by a kilometre sign without the taxi so assume they walked some of it.
Just as we were leaving the cafe Laura (from Germany) popped up and it was lovely to see her again. Her and Rian got on very well. The path carried on mainly on quiet roads and footpaths at an elevated level with enclosed fields and woodland around us.
Almost every house we passed had an elevated oblong building in the garden, that was perched at a height with a skirt protecting the upper ventilated part. We had quite a debate as to what they could be used for. I thought grain (and I was right in the end) but they didn’t look big enough, and ideas ranged from honey stores to somewhere you kept your family ashes as the roofs often had crosses on.
After a while we got to the 100kms marker! We’re nearly there (well only a few more days walking).
In the next cafe afterwards, a mile or so down the road, we celebrated with the most amazing cheesecake.
We then pottered downhill towards Portomarin in the distance. In the 1950’s the town had been relocated to allow the river to be dammed and flooded. The church was taken apart piece by piece and you can still see the numbers on the blocks used to help put it back together again.
We found the Albergue run by a very nice old couple and some young American girls took pity on us and allowed us to both have bottom bunks.
After settling in we went into the town to get some lunch (menu del dia again), before coming back and chilling, napping and showering.
About half 5 we wandered down to the supermarket to get snacks for tomorrow before sitting in the sunshine on the church steps eating an ice cream. Here Rian found us, and Fraser also turned up.
We found a local bar in the sunshine (it was nippy with a cold wind), and had a sangria together. Just before 8 we left, Fraser going to the supermarket, Jane and I back to the Albergue, and Rian went off with Laura who had turned up last minute.
Teeth are cleaned and we’re sorting out our bags for our long walk tomorrow, about 16 miles.
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The world somehow managed to be both familiar and entirely alien to her. Mysterious but as warm as the eternal sunset colours painting the sky. Acclimating to Twilight Town was proving to be, in and of itself, a unique challenge. Yes, some time was clocked here while laying low during her escapade during the commotion on the islands but that was... different. A wholly separate experience of being marooned on a world unknown to her, hiding in plain sight among the people going about daily routine underneath the cyclical chimes of tolling bells. She's been around but she didn't really know the place. Who could say if this bistro was around the last time she wandered down these alleyways and streets ?
Kairi lasted two minutes gawking over the impressive professional grade kitchen - it must be, she's never seen so many seemingly high end appliances lined up in one place like this before - before attention turned to the recipes pinched between fingers. During their brief stop at the Moogle Shop, in the midst of her excitement and a desire to contribute to the upcoming activity, she forked over some munny to acquire a pair innocuous cards. The titles sat scrawled on the flat papers, detailing the puzzle pieces to Kupoberry Cheesecake and Moogle Mousse with Kupoberry Sauce. Nothing she'd heard of before but hey, trying their hand at new desserts could further test the newfound boundaries of Sora's apparent skill in the kitchen he manifested in the window of time they'd been apart. However, one small problem arose. Strawberries and oranges.
Sora had stepped out with the mouse ( rat ? regular rats were bigger in size than mice on the islands but who knows about anywhere else. and that big one — remy's his name, sora said — had looked mighty comfy perched atop her friend's bed of wild spikes for whatever reason, but he appeared friendly enough ) that ran (??) this place, off to briskly scour the nearby areas in search of missing ingredients. Maybe while they were out she could get a head start ?
Easier said than done. That was the hope, the dream, but alas not all dreams were meant to be.
The creak of the door hinges had a head whirling to face it, disheveled red and white locks swinging. Powdered clothes sat in a manner of disarray. A healthy dusting of white dislodged by the abrupt movement flew into the air, drifting flurries settling on shoulders, face, freckled nose and coaxing forth a small sneeze with a jerk of the arms. The fumble sent a few precariously perched containers free of contents clattering to the floor, newly honing reflexes kicking into gear just so, snatching a few wayward eggs rolling off the edge from meeting a similar fate.
Shoulders slumped, lined with defeat. Already she could feel it. Bones turning to dust with age, hair graying, crepitus settling in as the years were shaved off her life with each subsequent mishap. With an anguished groan, the eggs were placed on the granite tops back in their rightful place among the haphazard spread. ❝ ...I can explain. ❞
@valorxdrive
#valorxdrive#➥ job class sel. ┊ kairi.#➥ story quest. ┊ ic [kairi].#➥ the star. ┊ sunset tragedies.#( this is from that starter you placed an order for a while back#ah it's been a hot minute since we wrote a thread#i don't remember one like this yet with these two but#kairi pre kh3 about sora and cooking: hm. press x to doubt )
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Falling All in You - Part Two | S.H.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader
Warning(s): Language, marriage, brief mentions of oral sex (f! receiving), mentions of smut, pregnancy, domestic bliss - 18+ Minors, do NOT interact under any circumstances
Summary: Steve’s fondest memories of Y/N seemed to take place in the rain. Therefore, it was no surprise the most pivotal moments in their relationship would follow suit
Author’s Notes: I loved writing the first part so much that I had to write a follow up. I know it’s tooth-rotting fluff but I couldn’t get enough! Hope you guys feel the same!
(GIF credit to @theseymourbirkhoff)
PART ONE
The sun was nowhere to be found over Hawkins. Only dark, dense clouds that gathered together in the sky with a promise of rain. Most people were filled with dread when they saw the projected forecast. Steve, however, craved the perfect summer shower. Over the past week, he spent every evening perched on the couch, directly in front of the TV, clinging to the local meteorologist’s words as he explained the chance for rain increased every day. After getting ready, he darted to his dresser, quickly retrieving a tiny, black velvet box from the top drawer before making his way to the window. Despite the lack of moisture falling from the sky, he smiled as he clutched the ring box tightly, taking in the gloomy weather. There was no doubt about it in his mind, today was the day.
Unbeknownst to a single soul, he traveled to downtown Indianapolis and bought the ring six months prior from the most renowned jeweler in Indiana. He scoured for the most perfect ring, carefully examining every option within his budget. Until he saw it, the only ring that he could envision sitting on her dainty little ring finger. A simple 2 carat solitaire diamond on a plain yellow gold band. It was worth every hour of overtime he worked at the video store. Now the same ring felt as though it was burning a hole in his pocket as he sat across from the most beautiful girl at dinner.
“I would do unspeakable things for that cheesecake,” she exclaimed, the sound of her voice pulling him from his thoughts. He chuckled, shaking his head from side-to-side as he withdrew his wallet, overlooking the check. “I’ll be sure to make a mental note of that for the next time you tell me you’re craving cheesecake.” They both laughed as Steve counted out the appropriate amount of money, tucking the cash into the patent leather booklet and sitting it towards the edge of the table. He quickly glanced out the window as he deposited his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, examining the weather, only to be disappointed. Not a drop of rain in sight. Although disheartened, he turned back to her with a smile as he stood, extending his hand to her. “You ready, baby?” She flashed her signature smile as she took his hand and followed his lead out of the restaurant. Heading in the direction of his beamer, they took their time, strolling down the sidewalk of downtown, hand-in-hand. Y/N snuggled closer, clutching his hand tightly as she wrapped the opposite arm around his, grasping his bicep as she lied her head on his shoulder. His heart skipped a beat when he heard a sigh of contentment fall from her lips. He slipped his free hand into his pocket, double-checking to ensure the ring box was still in place. He wanted to get down on his knee right then and there but he forced himself not to, promising nothing but the very best for his girl. He wanted the moment to be absolutely perfect, knowing the memory would be be engraved in their minds forever.
Just as the couple began to cross the street, a single raindrop fell directly onto Steve’s nose. He felt another hit the back of his hand that held hers, followed by another and another. Before he knew it, there was a sound of steady pitter-patter, which matched that of his heart, as rain fell from the sky and onto everything around them. She yelped, clinging to him as close as their bodies would allow, trying to avoid the rain and failing miserably. “Steve!” She exclaimed, holding her free hand over her head. “Is this actually happening?” He asked aloud. He couldn’t believe it, everything was falling into perfect place. His heart felt as though it was going to burst out of his chest and onto the wet pavement. He smiled from ear to ear, tightening his grip around her hand and guiding her, sprinting to his car. Despite the sound of constant, heavy rainfall, he could only focus on her and her sweet sounds. She couldn’t help but giggle as they ran and squealed whenever they stepped through puddles. By the time they approached his vehicle, they were both completely drenched from head to toe. Y/N laughed even harder upon examining her reflection in the window on the passenger side. She brushed a few wild hairs that fell in her face, sticking to her skin and obstructing her line of sight before she realized that Steve wasn’t behind her. She furrowed her brows, spinning around on her heels, eyes searching for her boyfriend. Only to find him kneeling on the pavement, one hand outstretched to her, while the other clutched something small in his palm.
She doesn’t register what’s happening until he starts to speak. “My sweet Y/N,” he started with a bright smile, despite his nerves. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. Even as a kid, every time I envisioned my future, you were there.” She was frozen in place, mouth ajar as she hung onto every word that fell from his lips. “I want to experience the rest of my life with you by my side. I want to buy a big, white house with a wrap-around porch, so we can sit in rocking chairs, drinking coffee as our kids run around on Saturday mornings.” He blinked, attempting to rid himself of the heavy raindrops that coated his lashes. Even through his somewhat blurry vision, Steve saw her smile bigger than he had ever seen before. “I want to come home to you everyday. I want to be your safe haven whenever life gets rough. The good, bad, ugly.. I want to experience it all with you.” He paused, opening the small box, presenting the ring in all its elegant glory. Despite what was being presented to her, she never took her eyes off of him, even as m tears of happiness that fell down her cheeks. She was thankful they were disguised by the ongoing downpour. “I want nothing more than for you to have my last name. I will take care of you and love you like nobody else in this world can.” He took a deep, yet shaky breath.
“Will you make me the happiest man in the world? Marry me?” His eyes were locked with hers. “Please?”
Not even a second passed before she nodded her head excitedly, her smile extending from one ear to the other. “Yes!” She took his handsome face into her hands, desperately crashing her lips to his. He climbed to his feet and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning in a circle, grinning against her lips. They kissed like they had never kissed before. He placed her back on the ground and quickly reached for her left hand. He retrieved the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger, breathing a sigh of relief at the perfect fit. He watched as she looked down, finally taking in the piece of jewelry in her hand. She gasped, her eyes flickering to his as she clung to his body. Even in the rain, under what seemed like pitch black skies, she could tell the ring was absolutely flawless. “I love you so much,” she grinned, pushing herself onto her tiptoes to find his lips again. “Not as much as I love you,” he promised against her lips. He pulled back with a grin, caressing her face in his hands as he studied her features like it was the very first time he laid eyes on her. “You’re beautiful,” he bent down and kissed her forehead before repeating the action to both cheeks. “But there’s something about my future wife soaking wet with the rain that drives me fucking crazy.” Her breath hitched, looking into his dark eyes as a wicked grin appeared on his handsome face. “Guess you’re going to have to take me home and warm me up, future husband.” Between her million dollar smile and the words that fell from her lips for the very first time, Steve was convinced he had died and gone to heaven. Life couldn’t get any better.
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Unfortunately, it didn’t rain on their wedding day. However, they were blessed with a thunderstorm the first night of their honeymoon.
The moment both newlyweds crossed the threshold of their suite, they were on one another. Without breaking apart from their kiss, they quickly peeled wet clothes off each other and crashed onto the bed. Steve kissed every inch of her naked body, causing her to writhe underneath him. “Baby,” she begged, watching as he left a trail of wet kisses down her stomach before making himself comfortable between her legs. “I’m right here. I’ve got you,” he cooed, kissing the inside of her thigh before repeating the action on the other. He lightly nipped her flesh, which forced a strangled moan to fall from her lips.
After satisfying his need to tease his wife, Steve licked a single stripe through her folds before diving in, devouring her wet pussy.
He had two goals in mind that night:
1.) Making her feel his love by forcing her to orgasm as many times as she physically could handle
2.) Providing her with enough pleasure that she moaned louder than the claps of thunder that rumbled the hotel
That night, he accomplished both goals with impressive ease.
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The distinct sound of rainfall drumming against the roof echoed throughout the house, eventually waking Steve. He threw back the fluffy white duvet and climbed out of bed, following the sweet aroma of coffee that led him to the kitchen. He found his preferred mug filled to the brim with the caramel colored liquid on the countertop, which made him smile as he ran a hand through his hair, attempting to calm his bed head. He grabbed the mug and lifted it to his lips, taking his first sip as he looked through the large window that overlooked the porch and their backyard.
The sight before him was a dream come true. His 2-year old son was running after their golden retriever, bursting into a giggle fit as the dog turned around and licked the toddler’s face. Steve laughed as he headed through the back door and onto the porch. “Good morning,” Y/N spoke in a quiet tone, barely audible over the rain. The mere sight of her jump started his heart. It didn’t matter how long they were together, he could never get enough of her. He sat the cup of coffee on the end table beside her, leaning down and kissing her lips. “Mmm. Good morning,” he mumbled, deepening the kiss. One hand lightly caressed her neck, while the other slipped inside her robe, ghosting over her breasts and down to her round, pregnant belly. “How’re my girls this morning?” He asked, applying the slightest bit of pressure in hopes of feeling their unborn child kick. When she did, his face lit up as he leaned forward, kissing the exact spot he felt her move. “Any day now, sweet pea. Mommy and daddy are ready whenever you are,” he spoke against her belly, while Y/N ran her hands through his hair, soothing the wild strands that stuck out in random directions.
“Daddy!“ The little boy, who was a mirror image of his father, beamed, jumping on Steve’s back and hugging him with all his might. “Hey buddy!” He chuckled, pretending to fall to the ground as the toddler tackled him. Turns out the domestic lifestyle that Steve always dreamed about wasn’t what he expected. It was infinitely better and he couldn’t get enough.
#Steve Harrington smut#Steve Harrington fluff#Steve Harrington fanfic#Steve Harrington fanfiction#Stranger Things smut#Stranger Things fluff#Stranger Things fanfic#Stranger Things fanfiction#renxwrites#Steve Harrington
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Nightmaren Babies Ch 14
Meanwhile, Back in the Night Dimension...
Owl nervously sat at a small table while Wizeman prepared some tea. After he had met up with the God of Nightmare, he had gotten a...rather strange, but friendly reception. Instead of completely obliterating him, or making him his mindless slave like he imagined, he found that Wizeman was treating him like an old friend, and had the kind personality of a friendly neighbor that was loved by everyone.
He had thanked the old bird for bringing NiGHTS and Reala back home, and began doting on his "precious shooting stars", before he gave them a light scolding for staying out too late. Owl watched the entire interaction with confused, but relieved eyes. He was about to leave, when he remembered that HE has to make sure that Wizeman didn't find out these weren't his first levels. So, here he was. Now sitting on a throne sized perch, in front of a lake sized table, as Wizeman prepared some tea for the both of them.
"So Owl. How are things at the Dream Gate? Any new visitors cone by?" Wizeman asked, pulling out a tray of cookies while the teapot was warming up "Um...N-No, Not any yet. It's been slow lately." Owl said, trying to hide his quivering fear of Wizeman. "Aww. That's a shame. My little Starlight loves to play with the visitors from the real world. Does it every chance they gets." Wizeman said in a playful, yet wistful tone. "I remember when NiGHTS played with those two visitors, what were there names...Will and Helen was it. They had quite the adventures in the dream world." He said, plating the cookies, and setting them in front of Owl.
"Y-Yes. NiGHTS is quite the energetic one." Owl replied politely. "Care for a cookie? There my secret recipe." Wizeman said with a mischievous tone. The old bird gave a worried "Gulp!" What if they were poisoned? Or cursed? What if they turned him into a pile of Twinkle Dust? However...if he refused, who knows what Wizeman could do to him. Taking the treat with a wing, he gently pecked into it...and found that they were really good.
"HOO HOO!! These are outstanding!" He hooted in glee. Wizeman gave a laugh. Not a cruel, cold hearted laugh that a tyrannical God would give when he's destroying the Night Dimension piece by piece. This laugh sounded like a Jolly father that cared about others, and was very proud of his amazing cookies "I'm glad that you like them! If you think those are good, you should try some of my dream berry Cheesecake." He said.
Owl's eyes nearly bugged out of his head "YOU make Dream Berry Cheesecake?!" He nearly shouted in joy. "Of course! NiGHTS and Reala love it. They usually try to sneak pieces of it before dinner." He chuckled, before he looked curious "Now that I think about it, NiGHTS and Reala have been pretty quiet. Maybe I should check on them..." Wizeman said. Owl nearly fell off of the perch. What the heck were the doubles doing?!
"U-Um. Allow me to look for them! A-After all, It's only fair after I had some of your amazing cookies!" Owl said, trying to hide his panic as much as he could. Wizeman gave a small 'Hmm...' as Owl sweatdropped. Had he figured it out? Was he about to become nothing but Twinkle Dust? "Alright, but don't be too long! I'll bring out my Dream Berry Cheesecake while you check on them." Wizeman chuckled as he floated away.
Owl let out a breath before he rushed to find the doubles. To his horror, he saw that they were both inanimate again, Back to their doll-like state. "NiGHTS! Reala! Who wants a piece of Dream Berry cake!" He shouted, hoping to wake them up. This seemed to work as the two dolls jolted up, and rushed to the kitchen shouting "I CALL FIRST DIBS!! I GET FIRST DIBS!!" from the two of them. Owl let out a sigh of relief, that was TOO close...but he couldn't keep this up forever...
Where were the Real NiGHTS and Reala?
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Out of all your OCs, who's your favorite and why?
>:D YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HARD OF A QUESTION THIS IS BUT IVE BEEN DYING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT MY OCS
GAH okay okay its a HUGE tossup between two of them and it doesn't help they are Brothers but I think I will have to say it's Umbra! Infodump that's super long and also art by my sick ass friend under the cut.
This is him! My feral bastard man, the one with the blue hair and pronouns! I realised while selecting these I literally do not own a single piece of art that is him by himself, he's basically glued to the hip of his husband, Penchant (written by my friend over at @/cherryfull, who also does draw all of this GORGEOUS art. The other person in the very last picture is his little brother, Axel)
Please know Umbra isn't small, Pen is just a fucking Giant of a man at a hearty 6'7"
[Quick info; he is a like 5'8-5'10 ish polynesian-french transman and a [very, Very fallen] angel of knowledge, and he struck a deal with the primordial Chaos to share and gain all the knowledge he possibly could in order to bolster his magic to an unreasonable level when he calls on it.]
He's a weird little man who I have been writing for like, 11?? Years now? He started out SO different, all warm and bright, passive and pastel/cottagecore, but through all of his batshit insane Events he's ended up this goth mildly aggressive edgelord (affectionate) who is mean for fun but is also still secretly helpful.
I think a huge part of him being my favourite, aside from him literally being my oldest, is that he has always been how I processed a lot of stressful things and got through unhappy times. I love calling his current era his "villain era" but it literally kicked off with him deciding to stop being a doormat of a boy and stand up for himself. Most of what he does is direct response to his own boundaries as he is STILL learning how to set them.
That said, he did once break someone's leg and dispose of them on said someone's ex boyfriend's doorstep with a boxed homemade cheesecake that said Happy Birthday on it; it was because those two were Yet Again pining for each other but were not doing Anything about it, and it was driving him nuts. He's still the village bastard because of this, and, even if it was a really convoluted plan to get those two back together, it wasn't exactly something a Normal and Sane man would do.
He also has a BLATANT disrespect for personal space with others most of the time, at least in terms of their homes. He has often and frequently, Uninvited, portalled into other people's homes. It has caused more than one fight, and once he agrees to not coming over unless he has asked permission or invited, he usually stops coming altogether because to him, it's no longer "fun."
I know, I know, you may be asking, why do you love this objectively terrible man, Observatory. Well, you see. I find him very funny. YES I know I write him but my very small rp group all agree sometimes the muse writes themselves and in the case of Umbra, he does so often and with wild abandon. He got jealous of a set of weights his husband put on his back and frisbee'd them into the wall so he could perch there like he usually does instead. He nearly threw a vampire off a yacht into a river because they were eyeing him a little too much. He regularly makes Nyquil Chicken and gives it to unsuspecting fools who, for some reason, keep forgetting he loves giving people Nyquil Chicken. Do you see why he's hilarious to me.
ALSO, while yes he is a terrible person with zero (well, One, but he's his sister-in-law's husband's brother so. Distant-ish family?) friends outside of direct family by marriage, if you DO manage to earn his loyalty, he is actually not just a Better person to you, but he is a Kind and Caring and VICIOUSLY protective person. He seeks out bountiful physical contact and often offers food and company, he will help you with everything in his power (which is a lot, because yeah, he has kinda ended up overwhelmingly overpowered because of RP events) when you need it. He doesn't like to use his healing magic anymore, it feels too much like an echo of the doormat boy he used to be, but if he cares, Actually cares about you, he will offer it, and it will mean the World.
Unfortunately because of how complex he's become over the years, he's nearly impossible to RP with new people because he has such Thick history and I, an autistic person and his creator, can't help myself and will talk about him nonstop whenever possible.
tl;dr He's an awful person but he makes me laugh and that's the most important thing.
#me#c0rvidspeaks#ask#ask me about my ocs#im so sorry asker#this is just my favourite bastard man ever#umbra#pen and umbra#penumbra#umbra trylle#pen trylle#anon
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