Sammy had a fan. This in itself wasn’t all that unusual. Sammy got a lot of letters from aspiring musicians saying how they enjoyed the music he composed. But this was different. This time the fan was a little girl who wanted to compose music like Sammy someday. It was the cutest thing any of them had ever seen because almost no one had ever approached Sammy in such a way. Everyone in the studio assumed he was terrible with children due to his…well….everything. His other fan letters were formal, poised, every pen stroke thought out in advance. The little girl’s letters were a little messy, a bit crude, and usually included little tunes she’d thought up. At first, Sammy had hidden the letters, but the curiosity of his coworkers had gotten the better of him.
“So a little girl just wrote to you?” Joey asked, looking at Sammy. “That’s so cute! You’re her role model!”
“Who would’ve thought you’d be good with children.” Henry laughed and shook his head.
“I’m regretting showing you the letters.” Sammy groaned, slamming his head onto the desk. “Look, it’s not a big deal. We get fan letters all the time.”
“Yeah, but you never get any from kids!” Boris said, tail wagging. “This is amazing!” Sammy groaned louder.
“It is really sweet.” Alice said. “What’s her name again?”
“Cordelia Bell. She draws little bells next to her name.” Sammy lifted his head to point at the little bells right next to Cordelia’s scribbled name.
“That’s so %$#@ing cute I can’t even take it.” Bendy said, holding the letter up. “You’ve been writing back to her?”
“……Yes.” Sammy mumbled, head on the desk again.
“Attaboy!” Joey slapped his back. “Maybe more people will like you this way!”
“I don’t care about people liking me.” Sammy gestured vaguely with one free hand. “You all should know that.”
“Obviously you care about this girl liking you.” Alice said, leaning on Sammy’s shoulder.
“Always good to know your black little heart is still working.” Bendy slapped Sammy’s back as well.
“She’s ten. I’m not gonna break her heart.” Sammy said. “I’m not that evil.”
“Still, good job.” Henry said, leaning against the door. “It’s really sweet to know you’ve got a little fan.” Sammy muttered something that was probably supposed to be rude, snatching the letters back from the rest of the staff. He was smiling a little as he shooed them out, looking down at the letters. He kept writing the little girl, continuing to encourage her down on her path. To see someone else so dedicated to music, it warmed his heart. He liked corresponding with her, remembering when the world had been new and possibilities had been endless. Years later he got a knock on his door.
“I’m busy. Go away.” He said, chewing vigorously on his cigarette.
“Mr. Lawrence?” A young woman’s voice came from just outside his office.
“What?” He turned around, glowering at the girl standing in the doorway. The girl’s face lit up. She was clutching a clipboard to her chest. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before.
“My name is Cordelia Bell. You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you.” She said. “I’m going to be working under you from today on.”
The dads with an extremely shy s/o? (if possible, could you use they/them pronouns? thanks!)
Omg this is adorable.
Robert: Robert would take them out drinking to try and get them to open up a bit. It would just end with him eventually taking them back to his house to watch one of his many movies after they had a mini anxiety attack in the bathroom at the bar. He enjoys their quietness and loves flustering them with surprise kisses.
Damien: He likes to walk around his garden and tell them what each and every flower signifies. He makes bouquets for them with little love letters hidden inside that translate what every flower means. He takes them to the shelter to see/play the animals and finds it cute how great they are with handling them.
Craig: Craig would take them out on walks in the park. He’d hold their hand and squeeze it reassuringly if they started getting nervous. He tried to take them out on a brunch date, but soon learned that was a bad idea. He now just invites them over to his home for brunch.
Joseph: Joseph tried to introduce them to the cul-de-sac during a barbecue and all they did was stand awkwardly near him the entire time. He’d bake them pastries and take them to church bake sales…only to have them shy away when people came up to purchase something. He sometimes takes them out to the beach to watch the sunset.
Mat: Enjoys listening to albums with them in his living room. He took them out album shopping and they actually had a really fun time. Sometimes, they visit Mat at work and relax with a nice beverage. They’re perfect for each other and understand one another very well.
Hugo: Hugo really enjoys having a shy partner and finds it adorable. In his profession, he works around a lot of shy teenagers and this helps him understand his partner better. He likes to take them out on fancy dinner dates and at home he likes to talk with them about art, history, literature, and sometimes even his wrestling stuff.
Brian: Brian finds their shyness cute but feel guilty because he’s very outgoing can overwhelm them. He enjoys walking Maxwell with them and going out hiking/fishing. Daisy gets along very well with them and they share interests.
Grear!! Can i request rfa + saeran having accidents, they are fine but they forget MC- they forget their feelings for her too??? I hope for happy endings ^^. OvO Can you write this?? Please do it O-O Please OvO
N/A: Sure thing but sadly I can’t make this really angst except V’s, especially when all my ideas consist of memes, trolling, and other happy-related stories for Mysme.
Say hello to friend zone, MC!
Still hangs out with MC sometimes, out of obligation. Ouch.
Being with amnesiac Zen isn’t that bad, but MC still feels the ache.
One day, he wakes up really early and hears a strangely familiar and beautiful voice coming from the kitchen.
At the time, MC dramatically reads a major role from one of his old scripts and apparently that role despite not being his own, he is secretly really fond of the character.
And dayum, MC does it so professionally to a certain point that the handsome actor starts sobbing to himself.
Only wants to practice with MC outside his acting practices since then. Will use his charms to make MC give in.
Eagerly wants to hang out with MC on his weekends and free time.
Zen on-guard duty is back. Will glare at any potential man coming near MC. MC Protection Squad where you at?
After sometime, he confesses to her and finds the shocking news of them already dating. Still happy as hell tho.
You know what you’d expect if Yoosung forgets MC. MC is Rika!
Has really high expectations of MC as RFA’s coordinator and hides his disappointment if MC doesn’t do it like Rika.
Tired MC is trying so hard! Poor MC, she’s going through the same phase again.
The whole RFA (including Saeran) is tired of this phase as well.
Thankfully, realization slaps Yoosung in the face when he starts seeing the differences between them.
He apologizes by asking the others about her favorite dishes and makes them. Surprisingly, he knows how to make them well.
Starts spoiling her with food and gets her into gaming. Wait, how did MC beat him in her first time?!
Yoosung becomes really affectionately clingy. Will use his begging puppy eyes to get her to pay more attention to him.
Thinks he’s still in university until MC shows him to his workplace as a veterinarian.
Guessing that they were/are currently dating, and MC gives him the face.
There must be a misunderstanding; Jaehee clearly remembers not having a roommate.
Wait, when did she start wearing contacts and her hair being long?! Mr. Han will be pissed!
Damn it, Jumin is this close to having Ms. Kang back as his assistant! Still suffering from his new annoying assistant. RIP Mr.Trustfundkid.
Mostly ignores MC unless it was a necessity to give her short formal conversations.
MC helps Jaehee with maintaining cleanliness in her/their apartment and Jaehee is impressed.
Turns out MC is her employee and she clearly loves MC brewing good coffee for her.
First sees MC as a friend whom she can freely talk and ask advice to.
Finally someone whom she can watch movies (of Zen) with!
She gets this feeling that were once a couple (still is) based on recurring yet quick flashbacks and tries to rebuild their relationship.
MC is happy to help her but takes it slow.
Wait, there’s a new maid? Why is he not notified of this?
Consists of a full thorough investigation and a confused MC thinking of Jumin who’s better off as a investigator.
How come this maid knows where he likes to keep things and take good care of Elizabeth the 3rd?
OMG, is she a permanent maid now? Kinky MC does not mind (but still wants to rebuild their relationship.)
Best friend Jaehee is so ready to burst through his penthouse like a boss and explain the whole truth but the whole RFA is holding her back.
Pretty much ignores MC after getting used to her presence, hang in there MC.
One day after looking through his things, Jumin finds hidden photos & letters of him and MC, and a suspicious-looking ring. Confused Jumin needs to know the truth. NOW.
Gets into a frighteningly serious discussion, but not an argument because MC has the patience of a goddess and Jumin is trying to be rational.
After their discussion, he realizes what this weird feelings were (developing lately) and pretty much apologizes to her while bowing down on his knees for a thousand of times during the whole week.
Will make a fool out of himself and have his dignity destroyed as MC is his first priority. Imagine this dude putting up embarrassing-looking posters.
Let’s go back to when Seven was pushing MC away without the whole there’s-a-bomb-in-Rika’s-apartment ordeal. He’s dangerous, that’s why!
Pfft, as if the Great 606 will be defeated. Prepare to have your walls broken down, Defender of Justice!
Clearly surprised that MC not only cleans his usually pigsty place but places them where he want it to be. Be free of your burden, Vanderwood!
Knows how to evade his antics, but MC does it with swag.
Tsundere Seven is struggling with his clashing emotions and persistent MC is getting better at handling him.
Rarely gets missions that has to do with infiltrating and installing CCTV in a big-shot opposing company.
MC tags along to his annoyance but is secretly awed that he managed to pass through, all thanks to her being a distraction.
The effect didn’t last for long and they were being chased down. But for some reason, this very moment is so déjà vu…
During their escape, he did not once let go and is stuck to her like a leech.
After the mission, MC is greeted by Seven wearing a maid outfit in a sexy weird pose. Capture a perfect angle of him, MC!
Has forgotten that he no longer has feelings for Rika.
Imagine V pining for Rika who’s currently being treated and MC pining for a confused V.
Treats MC politely yet distantly and MC is struggling between her emotions and rationality.
Jumin comes to the rescue and brings down his hammer of realization onto V. His savege-ness has no boundaries and V is stunned.
V makes an effort to know MC once more.
The rising feeling of nervousness, excitement, and longing is starting to unsettle him whenever he’s around MC.
MC, the master of comfort and reassurance is back.
Dude is feeling torn between MC and Rika.
Recovering Rika spits out some harsh truths to him that makes him realize of what he really wants.
Jihyun Kim is MC’s significant other™. Prepare to get melted, MC.
Let’s welcome back angsty kid, Saeran!
This girl with no eyes (her bangs are just covering it!) is suspicious to him!
MC knows how to deal with his outbursts and tantrums like it’s no big deal.
Unsure of how to interact with her so he straight up ignores her, but MC know how to twist this back into her favor.
He secretly appreciates how she’s not treating him as if he’s made of porcelain like everyone else. He’s amnesiac not broken for goodness sake.
Also thankful that she’s not Rika and helps him whenever he seeks for it.
Falls in love all over again as they get closer.
Unlike Tsundere Seven, he’s unsure what to do with his feelings so he dwells into the virtual world of romance because this noob lover-boy needs to learn.
Seriously takes notes as if he’s studying for finals and applies it to his life but fails because MC can come up with a better pickup line. Come on MC, give this pitiful trying-so-hard-to-impress-you kid a chance!
Despite his inexperience in dating, these two make fast progress in their relationship.
This girl is obviously a spy.
MC ain’t a clingy girlfriend nor a coward.
Is stunned at the fact he found a person who doesn’t irritate him.
Will defend the poor guy from Seven’s antics.
What Vanderwood wants he gets, despite being reluctant about it.
Finds comfort in MC as he full-blown rants about Seven and his bizarre cough adventures.
MC knows how to deal with his criticism and be better at what she’s terrible at through practice.
One time when they were surrounded by enemies, Badass MC beats them up with a Gucci purse. Vanderwood is impressed.
Sometime later, he finds out about their relationship from his confidential files and still pretends he doesn’t remember.
He still won’t admit he loves her but him being overprotective is getting out of hand. No one can touch his woman.
reborn yamamoto and xanxus getting rescued by innocent civillian and falling in love thank you!!!
~I… did my best? Sorry about the length… I got a bit too carried away. (-_-;)~
There was just something about the way he looked slumped up and sitting against that alley wall that caught at your heartstrings as you were passing by. You had initially been led to that alley by a box of kittens you had seen earlier on your way to work. This time, though, you had a bottle of milk with you along with a small shallow bowl you had snuck out of the cafeteria during lunch. You can now feed them in peace and comfort. You just wish your apartment allowed pets so you could take them home.
You were looking for the kittens and found them playing all over the dark suited man with the old fashioned hat; a sight that was definitely not there earlier. Your personal experience with drunks told you he was not drunk. He looked far too troubled to be drunk. You came closer and one of the kittens went up to greet you. You gasped when you saw the blood on its fur. Common sense led you to the conclusion that the man in the fedora was the one bleeding to death.
Scared, you helped him. Putting his arm over your shoulder and started helping him up, your brain trying to figure out what you should do. You thought about taking him to the hospital but then you felt something hard press against your side from his and when you investigated you found he had a gun on him.
After a slight mental meltdown of (“Oh my God, oh my God, he’s got a gun, please Lord don’t let him kill me, I’m going to go to jail!”) you decide to take him home and play doctor using Google searches and Youtube videos to stop the bleeding and stitch him up because, dammit, you can’t just leave him there to die. Just the thought of him lying here dying would never let you sleep again!
You stayed by his side until he woke up. And as you waited for him to open his eyes again you couldn’t help but notice that this was a beautiful man. But there was something broken about the expression on his face even in his sleep and somehow you couldn’t help but feel pity for him. This man was… not whole.
When he first opened his eyes your initial relief froze when he glared at you and somehow, you just knew he would have pointed a gun at your head had he been able to move or if you didn’t move the gun out of his reach. As it was you wondered if this was what small animals felt when snakes cornered them and gave them a death stare.
“Where am I?”
“My apartment,” you admitted wondering if you made a mistake taking him home. “I noticed the gun and… I didn’t think you’d want me to take you to a hospital with it on you.”
His brows furrowed even deeper. “How do you know I’m not just some drunkard who thinks it’s comfortable to sit in a dark, abandoned alley and wallow in his own misery?”
“You didn’t look like that kind of drunk.”
He raised a condescending brow at you and made you blush. “How would you know that?”
“Trust me, my dad was a mean drunk, Mister. If you’re the kind of drunk who likes to lie in dirty places then you wouldn’t have looked so… bothered.” The certainty in your voice made the hitman look up at you in surprise and a little amusement. “Besides, drunkards who wear suits like yours don’t find it comfortable to sit around in an alley like that. They usually have someone pick them up in a limo and take them to some five star hotel or ditch them at some fancy condo unit so they can roll around naked in their money. I’ve worked housekeeping in enough hotels to know how it is.”
Reborn sneered. “Thanks for the awesome deduction, Nancy Drew.”
The snark and the thought of him reading a childhood favorite of yours had you grinning at him, your fear melting away. If he knew about Nancy then surely he couldn’t be that bad. Right? “Your welcome, Hardy Boy.”
Your wit surprised a chuckle out of him. Which he regretted as pain shot up from his back and into his spine.
“Are you in pain?” You asked in concern as you stood up. “Gimme a sec, let me get you some pain meds.”
Reborn shot you an empty glare full of contempt and condescension. His next words hit you like a brick in the face. “You should have let me die.”
Your jaw dropped open in shock at the words out of this beautiful man’s mouth. It was a while before you even managed to form a thought. “Look. I don’t know what happened to you out there but surely someone somewhere would be happy you’re still alive.”
“No one’s probably even going to notice.”
“Don’t have any.”
You bit your lip because you were feeling ridiculous and can’t help but feel you were being too nosy now. “Lover?”
He gave you an arrogant smirk. “Yeah. My exes would miss me but they’ll get over it. They always do.”
You threw your hands in the air and gave up. “Well, I got nothing. Guess now I know why you wanted to die so badly, Hardy Boy. Do me a favor, though? Can you like, die somewhere else after you’re well enough to walk? I’m not particularly experienced with having to dispose of dead bodies.”
Again he snorted in surprised laughter and again he regretted it. “Why can’t I move?”
“You’ve lost too much blood by the time I found you. Gimme a minute, I’ll get you something to eat along with those pain meds.”
As you fed and dressed his wounds Reborn eyed you warily, expecting more questions about the past and selfishly satisfying your curiosity. Instead, though, you amused him with your quips and teased him about being grumpy. It was as though you were absolutely determined not to be affected by his depression and for some reason this annoyed Reborn. With typical Reborn logic, that had annoyed the Vongola Decimo when he was younger, he thought that if he was miserable, everybody else should be miserable with him.
But your good cheer was like a force of nature in and of itself. He didn’t think anything could have brought down his iron will but you proved him wrong in the few days you had seen to his care.
While you were out at work, he tried walking around to find something else to read. You owned a few and the book you gave him was surprisingly something he liked but he had always been a fast reader and he was finished in a couple of hours with it. He discovered a letter hidden in your drawer while he was looking for something else to pass the time with and read it out of boredom.
The content infuriated him beyond speech and he confronted you about it the moment you got home.
“Okay, Hardy Boy, let’s change your bandages.” You greeted him tiredly as soon as you entered the bedroom.
The sight of your tired face made Reborn’s anger rise several notches higher and he threw the letter at you before you could reach him. “Who the hell is this?!”
Your jaw hit the floor when you recognized the letter while your whole face burned red. “You went through my things?!”
“I was looking for a distraction, that novel was too short, now tell me!” he demanded through gritted teeth.
“What?! It took me a month to finish that book! And that’s none of your business.” You looked away and prepared the bandages. You refused to meet his furious gaze.
“He’s not your husband, you’re not wearing his name. You’re certainly not wearing a ring. What are you to him then?” he sneered and grabbed your wrist so tightly you were forced to meet his eyes. “His mistress?”
You blinked, the tears trying to explode from your eyes as the guilt and shame rolled over your chest like a wave. “Is it really so wrong to want to be loved? Even if it’s just for a little while…?”
Reborn wanted to kill something. Preferably large, lumpy and human. “BUT HE’S ASKING YOU FOR MONEY! WHERE THE HELL DOES HE GET THE NERVE?!”
“Yeah… You can say it’s my penitence for being a shameless woman.” Humiliation made your face pale as your sins were paraded before this stranger. He must think less of you now that he knew your deepest darkest secret. It had been nice… Having someone who didn’t judge her from past mistakes and talking to her for a while like they were friends. Oh well… You knew you were done for in polite society the moment you agreed to have an affair with a married man. Even now after it’s over, its shadow still haunted you. You bit your lip hard to keep the tears from falling. “Now show me your back. We need to get you wrapped up and clean. You wouldn’t want that wound to get infected, do you?”
It had required Reborn all his strength of will not to beat the subject into the ground where it belonged but he remained silent for your sake. Inwardly he wanted to find this man and bash his skull in. How could that bastard call himself a man?! Taking advantage of a lonely woman like that and then extorting from her?! He could understand if the woman was an absolute slut of a conscienceless bitch but you were different. You were kind. You’re funny. You smelled like heaven and sex and―
Reborn’s eyes caught your hand carefully tucking the letter in your pocket as you turned away and his rage flared out even more.
That’s it. The moment he’s out of here that son of a bitch is a dead, dead man.
“Hey, Hardy Boy?” he looked at you but you refused to meet his eyes. “Sorry you had to see that. Don’t worry, though. Just give it a couple more days and you won’t have to see me again. So don’t be too mean to me about this. Okay?”
You turned and ran from the room before you could see his piercing dark eyes turn into judging brim stones. You had managed to keep yourself together when other people gave you hell for being ‘the other woman’ in your former relationship with that man; but somehow the thought of having Reborn think so low of you made your knees weak. Made you want to stop existing in shame.
The next day you came home to find the small apartment empty. You had to lean against the bedroom door’s threshold for support when you saw the empty bed. He was gone. He probably left while you were away. So disgusted with your jaded past he wanted nothing to do with you anymore.
That night, as soon as you were ready for bed, grateful that you can use it again after a week of sleeping on the couch, you tried to tell yourself everything was alright like you always do. But as soon as you lay down you smelled his scent stuck to your pillows. The intoxicating smell of sunsets and bitter coffee mixed with expensive tobacco. Suddenly your tiny apartment felt much too large and empty…
You cry yourself to sleep.
That night you had a nice dream, though.
He was back.
He was unbuttoning your night gown from the neck down and raining kisses on every available skin he exposed. Your blanket is gone and your skirt was hiked up around your waist. His leg was rubbing sensuously between your thighs in a way that made your back arch. When his lips tenderly took in a nipple in his mouth and started laving it with his tongue the pleasure became so intense you moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Easy, Nancy Drew. We have all night.”
The words snapped you right out of the half-awake state you were in and your face burned red at the realization that you weren’t dreaming. You try to push him off but it was like moving a stone wall. “What are you doing?!”
“Reborn. My name’s Reborn,” he smirked down at you as he spread your legs wider so he could grind his hardness between your legs making you gasp. “And I’m going to do what I’ve been wanting to do since I got the feeling back in my body thanks to you.”
“Wha― Wait! I thought you left!” you were holding his shoulders so tight you were surprised you hadn’t torn his shirt yet. You bit your lip against the sensations when he started peppering your neck with kisses and his large, rough hands started stroking the back of your legs in a way that made you helplessly gasp out his name. “Reborn!”
“Fuck,” he breathed, panting as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to control himself. “That sounded better than I thought.”
“Y-you barely even know me!” you stammered out as you tried to keep yourself from writhing under the continued onslaught of his hands.
“I know enough to know that I want you.” He made sure to leave a mark on your collarbone as he slipped the nightgown off your shoulders. “I went out to string that son of a bitch up a tree by his toes. If he ever bothers you again, I’m breaking his skull in two.”
“Wait! You went to see― Ah!” Your words were cut off when he lightly bit your other nipple.
“Dammit, you’re so sensitive.” he whispered, breathing hard.
“You think you know guilt?” his voice was thick, seductive. You could almost taste the bitter taste of coffee down your throat as he kissed you; his tongue plundering inside your mouth. By the time he pulled away your head was spinning. “I kill people for a living. Your sins are nothing weighed against mine.”
Your throaty moan and the way you arched off the bed made Reborn grind between your legs more insistently, more eagerly than before. You watched as he knelt up and shamelessly freed his arousal from his pants all the while eyeing you with smoldering dark eyes that made you melt in a puddle of need. Gently he lifted your legs to remove your panties, his finger sliding inside you testing how ready you were for him.
“Reborn…” you sounded needy but you couldn’t help it. Especially since he made sure you were watching the way he was slowly thrusting his sex inside you. “Reborn…!”
“Damn it,” he panted against you as he thrust deeper. “Hearing you say my name makes me want to come. Go ahead, darling. Tell me you’re mine.”
Even as you lose your mind to the pleasure of his thrusts you promised yourself you won’t regret this. You wanted this. You wanted him. It didn’t matter if he left after. You were used to being abandoned, anyway.
But Reborn had other plans for you. Despite the guilt of dragging you into the dark world he was in he needed you too much to let you go. You were his.
He proclaimed it hoarsely as you came, trembling in his arms…
He had been foolish and careless.
He was expecting a simple job, really. He was supposed to corner the rat that was leaking information from the Vongola for another Mafia Famiglia and ‘get rid of him’ so he did. Takeshi managed to corner the man in an old apartment building. Had said his words of parting and slashed a sword through his chest. How was he supposed to know the man had a bunch of bombs strapped around his body and a dead man switch in his hand? But then again Takeshi had moved too quickly to find out about these little details.
He tried to outrun the explosion and managed to jump off down one floor to the balcony of the next apartment building over. He had been one millisecond too slow, however. Because a shrapnel from the explosion shot through his shoulder made him lose his balance and land on your balcony, already unconscious.
You rushed out at the sound of the explosion and was shocked at the sight of the bleeding man at your feet. Briefly, it occurred to you that he might be trying to rob you but when you saw the amount of blood pooling around him you kneel down by his side.
“Hello?! What happened?! Can you stand up?!”
You put your fingers on the inside of his wrist and felt a pulse before grabbing him from under his armpits and pulled him inside your apartment just in time before a bunch of police cars drove by. Looking it up and seeing whatever hit him was shot completely through his body you stop the bleeding and stitch him up as best you could. Your hands were a little unsteady and you had had to silently apologize every time you made a mistake but the man was so unconscious he didn’t even twitch. You thought about calling 911 but you couldn’t for fear of the attention it might bring. You liked your privacy just the way it was, thank you very much.
The next time Takeshi opened his eyes you were there waiting. Your eyes worried and nervous but your lips pursed in determination all the same.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
Takeshi barely managed to open his eyes at the soft concerned voice and got a glimpse of your eyes before smiling goofily. “Pretty…”
“What?” Great, he’s a weirdo. “I better take you to a hospital―”
“No… No hospital… Might as well let me die… OW!” You knew it wasn’t right to hit a man when he’s down but you couldn’t stop yourself. Hearing such words made you furious. Takeshi, however, pouted at you. “What was that for?!”
You stared back at him and his smile melted away at your glare and your lips pursed in disapproval. “Don’t talk like that, you moron! Do you have any idea how many people would give their right arms just to be alive right now?!”
The Rain Guardian blinked at you incredulously before laughing out loud. Something he regretted instantly as pain shot through him and made him limp.
“Serves you right, idiot.”
“Sorry! Geez! You need to work on your bed side manners.”
“I’d consider that advice if I were a nurse. But I’m not. So screw you.”
Again Takeshi scratched the back of his head at the sight of your displeasure. “I’ve made you mad huh?”
You sigh as you stand up and start to leave. “Lie down while I get you something to eat and see if I’ve got some pain meds.”
For some reason it bothered Takeshi that he upset you and without thinking, he grabbed your wrist and made you look back at him. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”
Takeshi met your eyes and felt electrocuted by the sheer sadness he saw in there before you blushed and cleared your throat, pulling your wrist away from him and rubbing at it like it burned from his touch. “It’s okay, forget about it. Just… As long as you stay here I don’t want you making jokes like that, alright?”
There was just something so broken about you that the swordsman felt something in his chest thaw a little at the sight of it and by God did it hurt. He couldn’t help but be curious about you while you nursed him back to health.
All through that week you took care of his needs without any complaint despite being so obviously busy with your work. Sometimes, Takeshi could barely get a smile from you. You obviously lived alone and unprotected, surrounded by a mountain of books and that bothered him. You acted all tough and independent but he could see your vulnerability plain as day. You hide just how fragile you were from the world. As time went by Takeshi became more and more restless at the protectiveness you inspired in him.
A couple of days later he got bored lying in bed waiting for you to come home so he decided to see if you had anything he could spend time on. He was certainly not a very big fan of books so he ignored the impressive bookshelves lining your walls and foraged through a drawer where he saw you keep your knick knacks. To his delight he hit pay dirt when he found a tiny photo album.
He was willing to bet the little kid of about seven was you. You had two older people on there who were possibly your parents, and a little boy who looked enough like you to be your brother. He had the same hair color as you. You looked like you have a happy family. His smile melted off as he flipped towards the end of the album and saw you posing happily with your tired looking but smiling brother whose head had been shaved off. From the tubes sticking out of his nose and wrists it was easy to see that he was ill. The paleness and look in his eyes told him that the sickness was terminal. And if you were only seven in this picture then…
No wonder you hit him so hard the first time you guys met.
Flashes of his stupidity back in middle school came back to him all of a sudden. About how he would have leaped off that school building had Tsuna not stopped him. He had taken his life seriously for granted even now.
He needed to apologize to you.
The sound of your footsteps alerted him of your arrival so he returned the album and hurriedly went back to the bedroom and waited for you to greet him. He couldn’t believe just how hard his heart was pounding at the thought of seeing you again after a whole day. But when you didn’t come in after a few minutes he got worried. So he got up and peeked behind the bedroom door that had a view of the entrance. What he saw made envy wrap around his neck like a noose ready to choke him.
“You sure you don’t want me to spend the night?” the man you were with asked, still nuzzling your face and dropping sweet little kisses on your lips.
You smiled tiredly and caressed the man’s face lightly in response. “Sorry. Maybe next week?”
The man frowned. “You’re working too hard. Geez, just let me take care of you.”
You laughed and jealousy twisted in Takeshi’s gut like a fist. It was the first time he’d heard you laugh. It sounded heavenly.
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for walking me home. See you tomorrow?”
The man sighed in frustration but kissed you deeply nonetheless before stepping away and leaving. You watched the man go and it was a while before you even noticed Takeshi had been openly staring at you with the oddest expression on his face. It was strange not to see him smiling.
“Oh, hi, Takeshi,” you greeted him. “Sorry, let me just cook us dinner. I’ll change your bandages later, alright? Are you hungry? I’ll make curry.”
Takeshi focused in releasing small little breaths trying to loosen the anger and the jealousy and the godforsaken want eating at his gut like a goddamned leech. Logically he shouldn’t really be this mad, right? It’s not like you were together. It’s not like you were in love with him.
“So,” he began, still feeling a little breathless from having to strangle the fury from his system. It had been all he could do not to push the door open and cut that man’s head off. “A boyfriend huh?”
“Yeah,” you answered as you began chopping up the onions and all the other ingredients. You decided to get changed while everything simmered. “He’s my boss’ son. We’ve been together since last year.”
“Oh.” Takeshi knew he sounded like he was being strangled but he couldn’t help it. He kept staring at your back feeling like a lump was forming in his throat as he applied all his strength not to just grab you and demand you forget about that smug idiot. “Is it serious?”
“I think so,” you shrugged as you continued to work. “He’s been talking about living together lately. I guess he’s right. It would be cheaper for me.”
“Oh.” Takeshi gritted his teeth now. “He’d be paying the rent?”
“We discussed sharing the rent,” you said, finally done with partially cooking the ingredients in the oil and dumped them all in a kettle to add the water, honey, apples and curry blocks in. “I wouldn’t be comfortable otherwise.”
Bullshit, Takeshi thought viciously. If he really wanted to take care of you he’d pay for the entire thing! He’d marry you and buy you a house and a garden and a room full of your stupid books.
He laughed despite the fact the he wanted to break something. “Really? If it were me I wouldn’t let you have to pay for anything. You’d just live there with my dog and my bird.”
That made you turn around and look at him. “I didn’t know you had pets!”
“Sure do.” He grinned. I can give you everything you could possibly want! “I’ll let you meet them someday.”
And then you smiled one of those smiles that had been making his heart feel like it was floating in the air. Takeshi could only stand there and stare at you in longing, barely even breathing.
Surely you weren’t expecting him to just up and go as soon as he recovered, did you? It’s just not happening. He was too drawn to you, too aware, too obsessed to watch you end up with someone else. He had to do something. He had to do something quick.
That night, after taking a bath and having dinner you were finally ready to change Takeshi’s bandages. You really wished you didn’t have to. Every time you did you couldn’t help but be hyper aware of the lean, well-muscled body just underneath your fingertips. It was a good thing Takeshi was gentleman enough not to make you self-conscious by deliberately cracking jokes and just being his talkative self. He had been a soothing, secure presence in the apartment. You didn’t know why but knowing he was nearby made it feel like nothing and no one could possibly hurt you.
Carrying the bandages and looking forward to his chatter you stopped cold at the bedroom’s threshold, confused when you found it empty. Just when you started wondering where he could be a warm breath whispered over the bare skin of your nape.
“You’re blocking the door.”
You yelped and jumped away only to blush even more at the sight of your houseguest standing behind you fresh from a bath and wearing nothing but a towel.
Your swallowed hard and focused on your concern despite your heart beating a mile a minute. “What were you doing?! You shouldn’t have taken a bath your wounds are still fresh!”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t get them wet. I just scrubbed myself from the waist down. And my face as well. Sponge baths are fun but nothing beats a nice old scrubbing. So? Shall we?” He casually walked passed you, lithe as a wolf and lay on the bed like some Greek god waiting to be fed by his handmaidens!
What’s going on? Something’s different with him tonight. You tried to shrug it off and sat on the bed with him, concentrating on taking off his old bandages first to replace them with new ones. But unlike the past few nights when he drowned the awkwardness with his chatter, tonight Takeshi sat still and silent.
And never took his eyes off you.
You could hear your heart pounding in the silence and your breath was coming faster especially when you had to wrap the bandages around his body and got a whiff of the clean, musky scent of his skin. Somehow, while you were wrapping another strip around him, you lost your concentration. Your fingers slipped and skittered over the skin of his side.
“Hey,” you looked up, wide eyed and blushing at the raspy timber of his voice. It felt like a brush combing over your skin. “That tickles.”
You try to apologize only to be caught by his eyes. You caught your breath at the way they smoldered with something absolutely carnal.
“Takeshi?” you whispered as he leaned down towards you. “What’s happening?”
Instead of answering he caught your lips in a kiss so wanting and needy you could hardly believe you were being kissed by the same person. It was like he was sucking the very soul out of you. You weren’t sure how he did it but somehow, your clothes were on the floor and you were underneath him while he thrust again and again inside you with possessive eagerness.
“You’re breaking it off with him,” he kept whispering in a broken voice in your ear every time your hips met his. “You’re going to choose me…”
You were not having the best day of your life.
Your pervert of a boss found another opportunity to grab your ass again, your annoying coworkers were still a bunch of bitches and somehow, your flat mate left a garbled message in your voicemail about being out of town and that she wasn’t sure if she’ll ever come back again leaving you to pay for the rent all by yourself. And people wonder why you won’t just quit your job. There’s just no way this day could get any worse.
Mentally and emotionally exhausted you walk into your apartment and switched the lights on… Only to almost have a heart attack.
“Shut up.” You promptly obey when you heard the click of a gun as the large, dark man sat up a little bit straighter in your favorite chair and pointed said gun at you. “What are you doing here?”
You swallowed hard before answering. “I-I live here.”
He scowled, apparently not liking the answer. “Where the hell is she?”
“Sorry, who?” you asked, trying to keep yourself calm. You had no doubt your brain will decorate the walls the moment you decide to run. Damn that’s a big gun.
“Veronica.” The man growled. “She said she was going to buy some meds.”
You swallowed. “She- she’s gone. She left me a message earlier. She says she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be back.”
“Son of a bitch.” He muttered through gritted teeth even as he leaned back in your chair again.
He must be your flat mate’s new boyfriend. The big fish she had been singing about these past few weeks who was going to be her ticket out of their hell hole of a life. So why would she drop him off here, obviously injured instead of sending him off to a hospital?
You noticed the smell in the room. The smell of gunpowder and blood. You look at the roughhewn rug you purchased from the flea market for a song last year and saw the warm brown was now rusty with red.
“Sir? Are you alright? Do you want me to get you an ambulance?” Please let me get you an ambulance. Anything to get you out of my house!
“If you try to make one single call, I’ll blow your fucking lungs out. Be quiet.” He ordered. His voice raspy and obviously in pain.
And you really couldn’t stand it. “You’re bleeding.”
He sneered back at her. “Congratulations. You’re smarter than you look.”
Okay now that was just uncalled for. “Can you hold on a bit? I have a med kit in the bathroom I can―”
He aimed the gun at you again. It amazed you that he hasn’t lost consciousness yet despite all that blood loss. “You’re not going anywhere, scum.”
Okay, that’s it. “Look, you’ve got the door covered, I won’t be able to run away. You are bleeding all over my floor and my favorite chair and you have ruined a perfectly good rug. I have had a very bad day, although obviously not as bad as yours. But I am tired, and hungry and the last thing I need is for an obvious criminal insulting me in my own home! Now put your gun down, sit still and let me get my damn med kit so I could at least keep you from dying in my goddamn house!”
Xanxus blinked back at you for what seemed like a full minute and you were half sure he was going to shoot you now. Instead he grunted and did as he was told but his garnet eyes narrowed at you the entire time. Taking that as permission you hurried to the bathroom, tiredly contemplating your life.
You managed to bandage him, thanks to all the busted heads and knees from the little league soccer team you coached over the weekends. You were amazed he did not make a single sound while you were stitching him up. He was wounded pretty bad. It was a good thing whatever hit him came out or you would have been forced to cut him open to get it out. Judging from the scars on his body it seemed this was nothing compared to whatever else he’s been through, though.
Somewhere during your treatment he fell asleep. Worried, you cleaned him up and stayed beside him to watch out for a fever.
Xanxus woke up dizzily at the feel of a soft hand brushing gently over his forehead. The first thought in his brain was that he fell asleep in a brothel. But then your scent wafted through him and he focused on your face.
“Welcome back.” You greeted him, relieved. “Give me a minute.”
Xanxus watched you walk off to the kitchen and come back with a glass of water and some warm soup. He noticed your clothes were still soiled with his blood as you came near.
“Can you sit up? You need to eat. You’ve lost too much blood.”
Xanxus did not move. He had too much pride to show you he can’t feel his arms yet.
You seem to figure that out too because you held the glass of water to his lips to help him drink. You failed miserably. Xanxus sent you a silent glare.
“Sorry,” you frowned, trying to figure out what to do before you pursed your lips and stood up. “Sorry about this.”
Xanxus watched you with some curiosity as you drank the water then leaned down towards him and made him drink the water from your mouth. The Varia Boss imbibed thirstily, not even realizing how parched he was until this.
You held his nicely chiseled chin in your hand and looked him in the eye, watching for any signs of refusal. “More?”
His slight nod was all you needed and you repeated the action. As you two continued he couldn’t help but notice how soft your lips were. How good you smelled. How nice your voice sounded now that you weren’t screaming at him. After finishing the whole glass Xanxus felt better. He could at least move his fingers and his mouth now.
“Okay, the soup’s hot so I can’t do that again but we’ll do this.” You scooped up a spoonful and blew on it until it cooled before holding it against Xanxus’ lips. Luckily he could move his lips and mouth after the water.
After feeding him you wiped away a few strands of hair from your forehead and sighed. “Is there anyone you want me to call? Anyone who can pick you up?”
Xanxus thought of Squalo and how he would have to deal with the Shark’s bitching if he didn’t at least let the trash know where he was so he nodded. You held your phone for him while he tapped out the numbers. The voice that answered nearly cost you your eardrums.
“VOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!! WHO IS THIS?! THIS HAD BETTER BE IMPORTANT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL―”
“Xanxus? XANXUS?! YOU FUCKMOTHERING SON OF A WHORE!!! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?! I’VE BEEN HAVING EVERYONE SCOUR THE GODDAMN CITY FOR YOU, YOU BASTARD! WHERE ARE YOU?!”
Xanxus raised a brow at you and you answer for him and gave the loud man on the other line your address.
“VOI! WHO WAS THAT?!!! THAT YOUR NEW WHORE?!”
“No, Veronica was the one who got me in this shit in the first place before running off like the bitch she is. Now pick me up, fucking Shark or I’ll make it so you’ll be shitting through your forehead.” Xanxus hung up without further ado.
“He sounds like he was really worried about you.” You couldn’t help but smile. “I suppose you guys are a group, huh? What’s your motto? Swearing is Caring?”
To your surprise, his lip actually twitched at that. Despite being pretty sure he was a murdering psychopath, you couldn’t help but like him. He had a well-worn look on his face that told you this man had it rough. The kind that crawled out from the dirt to get to the top.
“Still hungry? Want me to make you something else?”
You blinked and stared back. “Yeah?”
“I kill people for a living.”
“Um… I kinda guessed the moment you pulled a gun on me and threatened to blow my brains out.”
“Then why the hell are you being so fucking nice? I could order my men to rape and kill you when they come here if I wanted. And then I could shoot you dead.”
You winced. “Would you really do that? I hope you won’t. Because that would really suck.”
You surprised a snort out of him. “You’re a fucking weirdo.”
“And you swear too much. Not that I mind. Now I don’t know about you but I’m famished. Hold on a minute and I’ll get us some decent breakfast. You’d probably want to walk out of here by the time they come instead of crawl. Or worse yet, get carried off bridal style.”
It had taken approximately forty five minutes before the rest of the Varia arrived. It was full-fledged pandemonium for a total of five minutes while Squalo screamed, Levi wailed, Lussuria wept, Belphegor giggled and Mammon erased all evidence that they have been there. He was about to float over to you and get rid of the witness but Xanxus’ voice stopped the illusionist.
“Hold it. No one’s touching that. That one’s mine.”
You met his eyes with your questioning ones but his face was the same solemn granite you had beheld all night long. His beautiful ruby eyes arrested you into stillness. It was like being caught in hypnosis. You barely even noticed how his companions threw you curious and assessing looks as they protectively ushered their Boss away.
He stuck in your mind, that Xanxus. Even after a week you couldn’t get him out of your head. He was an enigmatic man. You don’t usually go for bad boys but there was just something so… special about him for lack of a better word. A curious brand of strength mixed with a soul that had known too much hurt.
She should really stop thinking about him. Life moved on and at least she was alive. She had bigger problems. Like the rent. So when a male coworker expressed interest in become flat mates with you you pounced on the chance and took him home.
Imagine the poor guy’s shock when he was met with the barrel of a gun between the eyes.
“Who the fucking hell is this?!”
“Wait, you can’t kill him! He’s going to be my new flat mate!”
If you thought that was going to calm him down then you have another think coming.
“Listen, boy,” Xanxus growled. His voice low, raspy and utterly deadly. “You’ve got three seconds to move your ass or you’ll be feeding the sewer rats tonight. One.”
Your hopes were dashed in less than a second as your guest ran screaming bloody hell into the night.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” you were almost in tears as you stomped a foot on the floor. “How am I going to pay the rent this month?!”
“Fuck the rent. I’ll set you up in a penthouse.” He snarled as he put his gun away and stalked towards you. “Hell, I’ll give you a fucking mansion!”
“And how am I going to pay for something like that, Mr. Big Shot?”
You’re sarcasm was cut off when he pushed you against the wall, his eyes again pinning you like a butterfly on a board and you felt that pull again. The same one you felt the last time you saw him before he left.
“By becoming mine, of course.” He growled quietly as he leaned towards you.
You try to push him away, your cheeks red and your eyes glaring. “I am not Veronica. I am not going to be her replacement, you idiot! Let go!”
“Moron,” he huffed in amusement at your futile attempts to free yourself from him. “Veronica wasn’t my woman; she’s just a fuck toy. You’re going to belong to me. Anybody else tries anything on you; I’ll blow their fucking brains out.”
Somehow, as he caught your lips in a heated, passionate kiss, you couldn’t help but think that this just may be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to you.
They never taught me about the black women that sent white men to space.
They never told me about the black trans women who led and bled for the lgbt community.
They never told me about the black men that died in greatness so that others could claim their glory.
They told us our history starts with slavery so that we forgot about the royalty we held in Africa.
I will tell my children, I will teach the students, I will make their paths known.
This revolution is not new, this experience is not an anomaly.
Every darker child in American history from the generations before us has felt the creeping noose of discrimination at their clavicle. Many died in the tree before ever taking an unrestricted breath.
I am thankful to the grandparents of the non white millennial for laying Jim Crow shields around their offspring and teaching the downward gaze that sometimes minimized the brutality but the time has come to shout as loud as their silence.
The elderly should not have to finish what America halted. Pick up your pen, open your laptop, shout at the march and bear your souls at the foot of every courthouse in the nation.
This revolution will not come without sacrifice and community action plans will not glide over morning toast like margarine.
It will be molasses, dark and slow spilling into our glands. Our pores may clog but sweat will push through and we can become one with the message before it is one with the people.
We must carry this sweetness just as we do our melanin, we must hold our dirtied hands and bind together.
Tomorrow is too late a promise for action.
Mobilize the movement.
There are those who go to gay bars and salsa clubs with rosaries in their pockets or make camp chapels of their living rooms. Others enter churches with love letter hidden in their bags, because their need for God and their need for love refuse to be fit into different compartments. But what goodness and righteousness can prevail if you are in love with someone whom you are ecclesiastically not supposed to love? Where is God in a salsa bar?
An all-night barbeque. A dance on the courthouse lawn.
The radio aches a little tune that tells the story of what the night
is thinking. It’s thinking of love.
It’s thinking of stabbing us to death
and leaving our bodies in a dumpster.
That’s a nice touch, stains in the night, whiskey and kisses for everyone.
Tonight, by the freeway, a man eating fruit pie with a buckknife
carves the likeness of his lover’s face into the motel wall. I like him
and I want to be like him, my hands no longer an afterthought.
Someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure.
I’m sure you remember, I was on the phone with you, sweetheart.
History repeats itself. Somebody says this.
History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop,
over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters.
History is a little man in a brown suit
trying to define a room he is outside of.
I know history. There are many names in history
but none of them are ours.
He had green eyes,
so I wanted to sleep with him—
green eyes flecked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool-
You could drown in those eyes, I said.
The fact of his pulse,
the way he pulled his body in, out of shyness or shame or a desire
not to disturb the air around him.
Everyone could see the way his muscles worked,
the way we look like animals,
his skin barely keeping him inside.
I wanted to take him home
and rough him up and get my hands inside him, drive my body into his
like a crash test car.
I wanted to be wanted and he was
very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving.
You could drown in those eyes, I said,
so it’s summer, so it’s suicide,
so we’re helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.
It wasn’t until we were well past the middle of it
that we realized
the old dull pain, whose stitched wrists and clammy fingers,
far from being subverted,
had only slipped underneath us, freshly scrubbed.
Mirrors and shop windows returned our faces to us,
replete with the tight lips and the eyes that remained eyes
and not the doorways we had hoped for.
His wounds healed, the skin a bit thicker than before,
scars like train tracks on his arms and on his body underneath his shirt.
We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars
as the roads around us
grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through a glass
already laced with frost,
but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out
But damn if there isn’t anything sexier
than a slender boy with a handgun,
a fast car, a bottle of pills.
What would you like? I’d like my money’s worth.
Try explaining a life bundled with episodes of this—
swallowing mud, swallowing glass, the smell of blood
on the first four knuckles.
We pull our boots on with both hands
but we can’t punch ourselves awake and all I can do
is stand on the curb and say Sorry
about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.
I couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.
:0 can you do a tutorial for this edit? Mostly the word search part! Also thanks so much for making such awesome stuff Ily and ur edits /post/129348976012/ikon
How to make this gfx
Ok first you need to know that english is not my first language and i’m really
really really bad at explaining things also this is my first time making a tutorial but i’ll try my best so pls bear with me. This is the final result.
You never miss a chance to say the
magic words to him. The Joker doesn’t want to hear about it but you are not the
one to give up so easily. Actually… I guess anybody can back down if pushed enough.
– During an important meeting with
new business partners, Frost interrupts and brings in a little envelope to J,
whispering you said it is absolutely urgent and imperative he opens it right
away. The Joker wonders what the hell it might be, opens the letter and shakes
it to take out the contents when a bunch of pink glitter flies all over along
with your message on a piece of paper: “I
LOVE YOU.” The other guys fake cough, attempting to pretend they didn’t see
crap while The Clown Prince of Crime gives them an icy glance, annoyed with your
“If I hear a single sound,
I swear you’re all dead!!!!”
Goddammit woman, stop your shit! he thinks biting on his cheek, dusting off the sparkly dust
off his shirt, but stashing your little note in his pocket.
– You are away on a mission for 2 days
when his cell suddenly goes off at 1 AM, letting him now he has a new message. He
is more than cranky he got woken up and checks to see what it is. A text from
you: “ I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I
LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE
YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I
LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU.”
You must be kidding me! J growls, pissed you bothered him with such nonsense but
saves the message in his drafts and goes back to sleep.
– One night he visits the club
without you and gets out of his Lamborghini when the phone beeps.
What is it, the stupid words again?! he scoffs when he sees your name on the screen.
“Look up!” the text simply says and
he does, noticing the huge light up message on the top of the building across the
street; “I LOVE YOU.”
This is getting beyond ridiculous, The Joker huffs but takes a picture of what you did and
saves it in his favorites.
– After taking a shower in the
morning, J goes in the front of the sink to brush his teeth and finally gazes
at the mirror. There it is, written with red lipstick: “I LOVE YOU.”
He rolls his eyes, fed up with your behavior and
erases the words, not before that wide smirk creeps up on his lips. He hears
you giggle and goes back to frowning:
“Cut it out, Y/N!!!”
– You bring the white mocha to his
office and place it right on top of his papers. J stares at it for a few
seconds and sighs, lifting his blue eyes from the cup, complaining about what
you wrote with foam: “I LOVE YOU.”
“Are you done with this rubbish, Princess?”
he mutters while you just innocently lift your
shoulders up, not answering. “Bring me another mocha and NO FUNNY BUSINESS,
You pout, disappointed he never
appreciates your efforts and by the time you are back with his new coffee The
Joker already finished the other cup.
“What?” he snarls when notices your
smile. “Don’t get it to your head, Doll, I really couldn’t wait any longer so I
had to drink it; you’re so slow!” he makes sure to admonish but kisses your wrist
when you hand him the mug.
–During a heist you go with a few
henchmen on the upper floor while he stays down with the rest, looking around
for the diamonds and gold. You go behind a wall and dial his number. He picks
up after 3 rings and you just say; “I LOVE YOU,” and hang up.
Really?! The Joker
mumbles, astonished at your unprofessional
conduct (that’s how he likes to call it). He simply texts back: “Shut up, Y/N!”
And… he asked for it when your reply
pops up on the screen: ““ I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I
LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE
YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I
LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE
YOU, I LOVE YOU.”
I totally can’t stand her; she really drives me nuts, he concludes, irked at your game,
but saves this message in drafts too.
– J wakes up and his feet touch something
cold and pretty sharp when he gets out of bed. You got him a ton of gold chains
and arranged them on the floor to spell “I LOVE YOU.” His mouth opens on
amazement, considering chocking the life out of you at this point. Your green
haired boyfriend kicks the chains all over the place, mad again, but not before
taking a picture of your accomplishment and saving it in his favorites. He hears you
“I said cut it out, Y/N!!!!”
– “Bubble bath is readyyyyyy,” you
announce, proud of the nice evening you planned for the two of you.
J comes in, taking his clothes off,
suspiciously scrutinizing the bathroom.
“Any hidden ‘I love you’ anywhere?”
he smacks his lips, warning you he’s not going to tolerate your actions anymore.
He had such a shitty day it’s not even funny.
“Nope,” you confidently declare, moving
back in the Jacuzzi so he can sit by you.“Nothing at all, baby.” He’s starting
to relax when you massage his shoulders, then lean over and kiss his neck,
whispering: “I LOVE YOU.”
“That’s it !!!” he splashes all over,
angered at your little stupid plan to
squeeze in those stupid words again. “Quit
bothering me, you pain in the ass!!!”
“What, you don’t want me to love you?”
you raise your voice also, not understanding why he’s so worked up.
“I didn’t say that!” he yells back
and you are baffled.
“So what’s the problem then?!”
“STOP SAYING IT!” he hisses at you,
“Why should I?! Aren’t you happy that I love you?!”
“NO! I don’t need your stupid love!!!!!” The Joker has a fit, kicking
all the candles and shampoo bottles in his rage, making sure to direct them
You gasp in pain when one of the
candles hits you right in the face since you didn’t have enough time to dodge
it. You don’t say anything, just step out of the hot tub, holding your numb left
cheek with your hand.
J stops his tantrum but doesn’t react
in any other way as you leave him standing in the water, still fuming at your absurdities.
– The I LOVE YOU’s stopped. He doesn’t
get any more letters, texts, hidden messages or sky lights on the buildings. So
exciting you finally got it into your head you irritate him with your stupid feelings all the time! The King of
Gotham doesn’t even hear it when you make love and that delights him.
The white mocha doesn’t taste
the same though. When he asks why, you sassily respond:
“Because it’s not made with love so
get used to it!”
“Cut it out, Y/N!” he snaps as you quietly
walk away and couldn’t care less.
– He didn’t hear the words out of
you in a few months and it’s perfect. Today he even went through his phone to
delete all the useless pictures and drafts he saved from you.
– “Look up,” you
urge him, pulling on his arm and his heart starts beating faster for some
reason, but then all he sees is The Batsy signal in the night sky.
“He’s close, we should get going,”
you tell J and he agrees, disappointed at the revelation. He kind of expected something else. – Frost brings the letter to him in the meeting, whispering it’s urgent
and J impatiently opens it to find inside just a dull piece of paper: “Dinner
at 6, robbery at 7.30 . All ready to go.”
She could’ve texted me, he sulks, cramming your note in his pocket. He kind of expected something else.
– You are away for one night and he
gets the text at 3AM. He immediately jumps out of bed and grins when he sees
your name on the screen.
“This undercover mission you assigned
me is very boring.” That’s all you sent. He grumbles something not very sweet and
tosses the phone on the table, stretching and going back to bed, frustrated. He kind of expected something else.
– He gets out of the shower and
looks at the mirror just to see your insipid notation with red lipstick: “Be
Why doesn’t she just text me if that’s all she has to say?! The Joker whines, grabbing a paper
towel so he can clean your mess. He kind
of expected something else.
– “Bubble bath is readyyyy!” you shout
and he comes in, ready to unwind. You move so he can sit by you and begin massaging
his shoulders, talking about a bunch of stuff that happened during the day.
“Well?!” he interrupts your speech,
turning his head towards you.
“Well what?” you ask back, not getting
the point, already forgetting what you were talking about and it annoys you.
“Say it!” he commands, slowly
blinking, elbowing you.
“Say what?” you squint your eyes,
trying to remember the topic he just made you forget.
“You know what, Pumpkin. Say it!” he mutters
through his clenched teeth, not thrilled he has to bring it up.
You take a deep breath and gaze at each
other for a few good seconds before finally kissing his neck and enunciate: “I
“Good, I was wondering about that,”
he grouchily comments, leaning backwards so he can rest against your body. “My white
mocha better taste great again, Doll,” The Joker makes sure to point out,
closing his eyes.
“With or without foam?” you tease J
and since he’s such a difficult person he sure deserves it.
“With and it better spell something,”
he reaches his hand to tug on your wet hair.
“It might if I still have the skills;
it’s been a while,” you debate and it’s actually the truth.
“Don’t care, make it work,” he puffs, not giving a damn; he just expects it.
You want to laugh but can’t: your strategy worked- it was learned from the best. Your boyfriend should be proud since manipulating things to obtain what is desired happens to be his specialty.
Prompt? Jonsa has been married for some moons now and she's worried Ramsay wounded her inside because she's not pregnant yet, Jon makes her know that she's the only thing he'll ever need for the first time.
I loved this prompt. This blends book and show canon some since my memory of S5 is kinda hazy. Thanks for the prompt, anon!
Sansa woke suddenly, pulling the furs back before sitting up. The fire had died, the remaining embers casting a faint glow about the room. The pitch black sky and quiet courtyard below told her the time well enough but she already knew. It was the hour of the ghost, as it always was when his spirit came.
Dex drops his bag next to the green couch and shrugs off his coat, heading toward the soft yellow light spilling out of the kitchen. The Haus is quiet; it’s midterms week, and everyone is pulling their last marathon study sessions before the final round of tests ends tomorrow. Fortunately for Dex, his last exam was earlier this morning, but the others are still holed up in their usual study spaces. If he’s right, Ransom and Holster should be in the library, Chowder should be in Farmer’s dorm, Lardo should be pacing around her studio, and Bitty should be - well, in the kitchen, he guesses, considering the smell that’s wafting through the hallway.
He guesses right. When he enters the kitchen, he finds Bitty rolling out sugar cookie dough and humming whatever’s playing in his earbuds. Dex taps the doorframe to let Bitty know he’s there, and then he notices that Bitty isn’t alone.
Nursey’s here, too, scribbling frantically on a yellow legal pad and buried under a mess of loose papers and highlighters. Bitty turns to give Dex his best warning stare and Dex makes a motion as if to zip his lips shut, perching up on the countertop and stealing a cookie from the tray that’s cooling next to him.
For a minute or two he watches Nursey continue to scribble like his life depends on it. He’s seen Nursey this stressed before, but only around exams. Nursey may try to maintain his chill, but Dex knows that his grades are one of the few things that can pull his d-man out of his shell instantly. He works hard, Dex thinks. Really hard. Sometimes, beyond the point when even Dex himself would call it quits and take a nap - and Dex doesn’t give anything up easily. Never has, never will.
He’s startled out of his thoughts by Bitty pushing a mixing bowl into his arms and handing him a wooden spoon. While Bitty swaps trays in and out of the oven, Dex starts absentmindedly mixing, watching as Nursey shuffles some papers around and picks up a green highlighter.
Nursey underlines a few phrases before tossing the highlighter back onto the table, heaving a heavy sigh, and shoving a hand through his hair. Dex gets an idea. It’s stupid and small, but it’s an idea.
Jamie pulled me in close, tucking my head under his chin as he rocked us from side to side.
“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?” He whispered into my hair. I could hear the strain in his voice.
I nodded with a mumbled yes into his chest. The tension in his body seemed to melt away with my simple answer. I felt him press a kiss to my head, just before he pulled back to survey my face.
“Christ, it’s good to see and hold ye, Sassenach. If he–if he–” his eyes closed as he breathed angrily out his nose. “I couldnae stand it if he’d done anything to ye.”
I cupped his face and he leaned further into it my touch as I said, “You stopped him. Nothing happened because you were here. Even if you had not showed up, he wouldn’t have gone far. If he had tried to pull me close, my knee would have forcefully become acquainted with a particularly sensitive part of him.”
Jamie tipped his head back with a roaring laugh. “I wouldnae doubt ye for a moment, Sassenach. And remind me to ne’er get on yer bad side.” He said with a wink.
I smirked as he wrapped an arm back around my shoulders and guided me to the big house.
“We need to be quiet, Claire, we dinna wish to be caught.” He said with a wink, holding a finger up to his lips. “I wish to keep ye to myself for a while and the moment my meddlin’ family discovers I’m in the house it’ll be hours before I can just hold ye and talk wi’ ye.” He looked over to me and gave me a grin that made my stomach feel full of butterflies. “I just want to be able to talk wi’ ye wi’out a crowd.”
“If you’re so worried about being caught, why don’t we stay out in the garden or go for a walk to the mill?” I countered.
“Because,” he said, “I cannae give ye the wee baubles I brought back for ye at the mill.”
“You didn’t have to–”
“I ken fine I dinnae have to get ye anything, but I wanted to.”
I nodded and followed him with light footsteps through the empty kitchen and up the back set of stairs towards my, no his bedroom. A room I would have to give up, a bittersweet sadness washed over me. I didn’t want to leave the comfort of that room, of Jamie, but he was home now. The need to be separate until the wedding would overshadow every other need that may arise. God, I hoped it wasn’t too much longer. A year already and before then the stupidity of my shyness kept us apart, and now…now I wanted nothing more than to never leave his side and let the feelings that have been building take over. I wanted, no, needed these emotions, these overwhelming sensations to be sated and content. He was the man I could let myself genuinely feel and not be afraid of what was to come. I’d heard enough over the last year from Jenny, the women I helped in childbirth, and old Granny McNabb to know what was to come for the marriage bed.
“Claire? Claire?” Jamie said, shaking me slightly. “Where did ye go mo nighean donn? I’ve been saying yer name…” He trailed off when I started to shake my head and smile.
“I was thinking about what this room means, to you, to me…us.” I took a step and buried my face in his chest, then continued. “This is your childhood room, your home. But, when you left it became this empty shell, waiting for your return. Nothing out of place, everything exactly as you left it, until I moved in. It was hard at first, however, this room became an extension of you, a place where I felt closer to you. This room, this house, it became my home, more so than any other place I’ve lived.
I felt his arms tighten around and a smile bloom across his face. “Aye, well then I’m sure my letter was of comfort to ye in my absence as well?”
“Mmm hmm. They were. Although I did wish for more of them.”
He laughed, “I wish I could have written more as well.”
Taking a moment to himself, Jamie pulled away taking in the familiar surroundings, his gaze seemed to linger on the small bundle of his letters.
“I am curious, Claire.” He said, brows furrowed.
“Why ye dinna wear the bauble I left ye.” His voice was soft, almost somber in tone.
I furrowed my brow, trying to think back to any bauble I may have received or misplaced. My hand instantly went to my neck where the fine gold chain securely held Jamie’s ring.
“I don’t know which bauble you’re speaking of, Jamie.” My wrist twisted and rocked from side to side, moving the ring rapidly across the chain. “The only thing close to a bauble I can recall is this ring. I never took it off. I’ve worn it either on my finger or on the chain everyday since you gave it to me.”
Jamie’s hand gently grabbed my own, halting the nervous fidgeting, and lifted my hand to his lips for a tender kiss. The stubble of his beard tickled the back of my hand, as his lips lingered against my skin. “No,” his mumbled words a whisper across my skin, “I dinna mean the ring. Although ye canna ken how elated I am to see ye wear it. I wish for it to never leave your finger, but I understand how ye dinna wish to tarnish the gem with soil from her wee herbs or blood from yer tending. No, I mean the wee bauble I wrapped in a letter for ye before I left.”
He held up his hand to silence me. “I thought I would be clever and leave the letter hidden so only ye could discover it, but it seems I did my job too well.” His eyes glittered with mischief. “So it only seems fair now that I find it for ye, yes?”
I nodded as he shook his head contradicting himself. “I’ll give ye a clue, mo nighean donn, and then it’s yer job to find it.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Well what’s the clue?”
Jamie kissed my hand one more time before stepping back and leaned against the closed door. “I’ve already given it to ye.”
“What? How? When did you do such a thing?” I asked flabbergasted.
He grinned like the cat who got the canary and nodded slightly, but not in any definable direction. “Ye ken how and when. Surely ye read yer letters thoroughly or watched me when I entered the room. What did you read, Sassenach? Think.”
“James Fraser!” I exclaimed with a wave of my hand. “How am I supposed to decipher something I didn’t know existed?”
“Weel ye ken now, so think and decipher.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, causing him to bark with laughter but not reveal any more cryptic clues.
“Okay, letters and body language,” I mumbled to myself turning to face the room. “We walked it and he looked to the window, then to the trunk at the end of the bed. The pile of letters neatly stacked…He looked there multiple times, but there’s nothing in there unless–unless he had hidden clues in their contents? But then why would he look over…oh!” and like a flash, a ridiculous notion came to me. Many times in his letters he mentioned his desire to draw me in close to his heart, and the heart was on the left side, the same side he wrote on, the logical side where a small bedside cabinet with drawers filled with baubles, a heavily used Bible and a rosary. Swiftly I removed the contents of the bedside cabinet and desperate to see if a letter was hidden.
“Well, that was a long shot,” I mumbled.
Deflated I sat on the bed and looked around again, my eyes landing on Jamie as he portrayed nothing but absolute indifference.
“You only looked at two places,” I said loud enough for him to hear.
“Och, did I?” He smirked.
“Aye, ye did.” I laughed, exaggerating my speech to mimic his accent.
“Then what does that tell ye, Sassenach?”
“It means you either stuck the letter in the ground, or it’s in your trunk.”
He shrugged but didn’t say a word.
“Fine,” I sighed, walking over to the trunk I had taken to using for my own clothing, and began to pull out my belongings one by one. It didn’t take long until the trunk was empty and nothing lay at the bottom that resembled a letter, nor was there one stuffed somewhere inside the various possession I had inside.
“There’s nothing here.” I said gesturing to the trunk. “Look see there’s noth–” My words stopped as I noticed a small, yellowing scrap of fabric that seemed to be wedged into the inside lid of the trunk. My hands shook as I gently tugged on the fabric, pulling it until my fingers scraped against metal. A hidden latch that opened a hidden compartment rattled at my touch, then easily opened. Inside, pockets of wood and fabric lined panes similar to a bookshelf were revealed. Inside the middle pane lay a perfectly sealed letter.
The letter had my name scrawled in Jamie’s beautiful script, my fingers traced the letters, then popped the ball of red wax sealing the sides together. White and gold slithered out of it’s confinement and into my awaiting palm.
“They were my mother’s pearls.” Jamie’s voice was low and husky from behind me. “She said to give them to my future wife.”
Tears sprang to my eyes as he reverently placed the strand around my neck.
“How long?” I couldn’t finish my thought, but he knew.
“I wrote this letter the day I found you in the meadow outside the mill.” His fingers traced the pearls and my neck with a light touch sending chills down my spine. “I knew then I wanted ye for my own, and I couldna and wouldna let ye go. I sealed the letter with the pearls just before I left for University.” My eyes closed as his lips brushed the nape of my neck. His forehead leaned against my skull and we sat in silence, taking in the moment.
“Y-You knew? I thought, oh God Jamie!” I turned in his arms, throwing my own around his neck and burying my face in his chest. “We lost so much time before.”
He lifted my chin, “No we didna, it wasna the time or place to begin. Our lives are twined together,” Jamie grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers in illustration, “and when we say it is the right time, it is. I knew I wanted ye and ye proved on Quarter Day that ye too wanted me. That’s why I gave ye that ring, to symbolize my commitment to ye, and wrapped up this necklace for ye. It’s an outward sign of what we already know. We’re bound you and I and soon, very soon, if ye’ll have me…”
He nodded eyes brimmed with tears. “I am.”
“You already know the answer you insufferable Scot!” I sobbed with a laugh.
“Say it, please Claire.”
“Yes, I’ll be your wife.” His eyes closed and shoulders shook in silent tears as he pulled me in tight, his lips finding mine in a clash of teeth and salty tears.
Dean thinks that’s funny- and maybe she does too since she’s wearing her sweetest smile- because he’s already asleep.
Dean starts writing the letters long before he starts having the dreams.
It begins after the racist monster truck case that brought Dean back to Cassie Robinson. The first woman he loved and lost. He suggested that this goodbye might not be as permanent as their last and Cassie said that she was a realist and that she didn’t see much hope for them. Dean told her he’d see her again, and when she nodded her head disbelievingly, he said it again, meaning it.
He vowed to himself that he would, he’d return to her. That he’d make it happen because when you meet someone like Cassie Robinson you don’t let go. You hold on tight and you come back.
Writing letters to her was his way of making sure he’d follow through on his promise. He never sent them, that was the point. He wrote things he wanted her to know, but for him to share them he’d have to physically bring them to her. It was an insurance policy of sorts.
Dean wrote about all kinds of things. The cases he and Sam worked, leaving out most of the gore and playing up the heroics, even though he knew Cassie would see right through the latter. He peppered his notes with jokes he knew she’d love, jokes he knew she’d roll her eyes at and jokes he knew would make her huff in annoyance.
He put effort in the letters he wrote. Dean went as far as researching some writing tips just to impress the journalist.
In rare moments of vulnerability, Dean wrote things he could never really talk about. Not even with Sam. Maybe especially not with Sam. He didn’t think he was keeping what he was doing a secret, but he only ever wrote the letters when his brother wasn’t around.
He poured honesty he didn’t even know he possessed onto pages upon pages. He wrote about how desperate he was to find his father, even though he played it like he was on board with the arbitrary cases John would send their way. He wrote about how afraid he really was of Sam’s visions. About what they might mean for his brother. About what he could become.
He wrote all of this for Cassie to read but then months went by and his dad died and the yellow eyed demon came back for Sammy and Dean sold his soul.
Dean wrote about all of that too. Wrote about having a year to live. Wrote about his fear of dying. Wrote about the nightmares where hellhounds drag him to hell. Wrote about being afraid of what he might become there.
But Dean wasn’t writing to Cassie anymore. Maybe he hadn’t been for a while. He definitely stopped beginning the letters with her name. He’d grown up since he selfishly went and got Sam from school, since they worked the Racist Truck case, and he wasn’t deluded enough to think returning to Cassie was an option anymore. That it ever really was.
“I don’t have any siblings,” She tells him as they rock on a porch swing. “I can’t imagine giving up so much for someone.”
“It’s my job. He’s my responsibility.”
“It’s amazing that you believe that.” She leans into his side more and allows him to hold her. It makes him feel good, she’d learned. She doesn’t think it’s half bad either.
Dean went to see Lisa Braeden, as part of his Dying Wishes Tour. She told him he could stick around after the changelings that took her son were dealt with, but Dean couldn’t. Dean was dying. Dean had a timer counting down the minutes before his eternal vacation in the pit began.
He fed her some line about having work to do because he couldn’t tell her any of that. He could pretend to, though. Which is how he began addressing the letters to her. Not explicitly, of course, but in his mind, she was who he was writing to.
That’s when the dreams began. They were like snippets of the life he could have had with Lisa. Dreams of watching Ben at baseball, going to the movies as a family, cooking together. They were dumb things too like fixing the knob to a closet door, brushing his teeth while Lisa stood beside him brushing her teeth. They were good dreams. They were the version of his life where he could be happy.