IN THE SAME NIGHT, I WON TWO FIFTY-FIFTIES AS A FREE TO PLAY

IN THE SAME NIGHT, I WON TWO FIFTY-FIFTIES AS A FREE TO PLAY

“But, I am a fool

with Wanderer”

Non-sexual removal of clothes

He works so hard to be the strong one out of the two of you, maintaining an appearance of strength and indifference for most topics. Sure, he gets upset and bothered by certain aspects of life, but he doesn’t let it affect him like it would you.

But even the previous harbinger, now Wanderer, has his moments of weakness. And they tend to make themselves known only in the deepest depths of your guys’ home.

When you take time and care to strip him of his clothes, all while kissing his shoulders or head while you shed the layers. He’d typically scoff at this. After all, it’s not like he’s of a high status anymore.

But he felt something inside of him ache as your lips were pressed against his porcelain skin. Failing to notice the way his lip quivered, he bit the insides of his left cheek.

“Why do you treat me like this?”

You looked up at him from your position, kneeling in front of him as you slid off his shorts.

“I am no longer a harbinger, and proven to be a failed attempt of a god. So why?” A tear fell onto his bare thigh in front of your soft gaze. “Why do you treat me as if I am special in any way?”

“You are correct, about not being a god or harbinger.”

His eyes narrowed at your harsh but honest statement, not that you intended for it to feel hurtful.

“But you are the one I love, and I intend to prove to you, that you are worthy of it. My affections and decisions will not be denied, simply because you fear you’re not enough.”

When he finally allowed your eyes to meet, he felt something foreign. Not indifference, or his idea of strength. But, maybe this was…the love you spoke of.

“How to never stop being sad

with Cater Diamond”

“You deserve better, don’t you think?” You objected his stupid attempts to soften the blow

“I don’t want anyone else, Cater.” He bit his lip and turned away, refusing to look at you any longer. “We can take a break, but I really don’t want to end things like this. We can figure things out!”

But he was sick of it. Without even knowing what ‘it’ is. His own inferiority complex was what caused this, blurring out every single positive thing you tried to say. Twisting your words by convincing himself it was all bullshit.

“Just leave already , please. I don’t want to deal with you much more.” His words stung, even wounding him to say aloud. But he didn’t apologize. He held his tongue. He didn’t know what else to do.

“If it’s what’s best for you, then fine.”

He couldn’t drown himself in his social media the following weeks, witnessing every comment on his posts. They were all about you. He ended things, not you. So why was he so miserable? Why hasn’t he moved on?

Was this the universe’s way of tormenting him? Or his way of continuing his cycle. The repetition of being sad and lonely.

“I want to buy you something

with Ruggie Bucchi”

(With a crafty? reader)

“It’s not a lot,” he mumbled.

In your hands was a grocery bag that he had just previously handed to you. It was your six month anniversary. Something you’d both been excited for, but he did show some anxiety as the day approached.

When your gaze became fixed on him, he looked away.

“You can open it instead of staring, you know.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him flustered or shy, but it still made you grin when the cocky and sometimes arrogant Ruggie Bucchi would get all red from being watched.

You sat down on your dorm bed, while he didn’t seem to follow you. Though you found it odd, you were just too excited to see what the contents were.

“Just— don’t expect too much, alright?”

You ripped open the bag after struggling a bit with the tightly done knot. And in the bag, he was right. There really wasn’t a lot.

But what you did see, was random items of unknown origin. Keys that lead to who knows where, rocks that you assumed he found from the ruthless chores he completed, and even colored and patterned bookmarks and scraps of paper.

“You mentioned that you liked crafting, so being the generous boyfriend I am, I figured I’d surprise you.”

The longer that you stared at the contents of the bag, the more nervous he got.

“Because I love you. So can you say something?”

“Baby, I’m yours

with Leona Kingscholar”

He’s very protective of what he believes to be his, and luckily for him, you permit this act of desire. How could you not when you are given treatment from him that no other has received. A seat by his side, without judgment.

Of course, you are not easily escaping his teasing as he calls you clingy when you sneak into his bed. But you can make him go a bit quiet in some occasions.

Such as the very day when you were sure he was asleep. You crawled into your side of his bed, designated for you only. And whispered in his ear, playing with his hair. “You’re mine, Leona, and I’m thankful that you can call me yours as well.”

You closed your eyes, drifting to sleep, while he laid awake. Shocked by the sudden knowledge.

He had something all to himself. Someone, who he won’t have to worry about losing.

“Hey, lover, won’t you treat me right?

with Freminet”

Imagine being with Freminet, someone who’s never been well-versed in how or how not to be treated in relationships. He’s anxious, thanks to Lyney’s constant fussing and Lynette’s warnings.

And then, he has the luck of finding you. Someone who adores him and only wants to love and care for him. Helping him with his underwater adventures, or assisting him in social situations. Just being there without overstepping or forcing your way into his space.

Easing him out of his comfort zone without practically shoving him into overwhelming discomfort. You show him patience that he’s unfamiliar with. Even within his family, it feels foreign with the level of caution and care you take to ensure his safety.

And while he may not be the most sure of his judgment, he’s sure of one thing. You are one of the best things to happen to him.