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goldentournesol · 5 years ago

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Operation Make Believe

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer and Reader go undercover as a couple at a fancy restaurant to catch a prolific unsub.

Length: 5k

A/N: enjoy this lil fic while i take a short break from my series :D

masterlist

“Okay, so we’re looking for a guy who targets rich heterosexual couples.” Morgan stated from his seat at the round table. Looking at the photos almost made Y/N sick, she nervously twirled one of her rings around her pointer finger.

“He’s quite violent, too. Removing the men’s fingernails and chopping off the women's’ hair? That’s a pretty specific signature.” Emily spoke, glancing at the file.

“So let me get this straight, this man has killed 7 couples and we’re hearing about this just now?” Rossi questioned with indignance.

“Unfortunately, local PD has found it incredibly difficult to track this unsub down. That’s why we’re being called in.” Hotch replied, without even a twitch to his brow.

“So the guy’s good, how are we gonna get him?” JJ asked, leaning back in her chair.

“We know he frequents the local high-end restaurants because that’s where he picks his couples, he almost always picks victims who have just gone to dinner together, judging by the contents of their stomachs thanks to the autopsy reports. We should canvas the restaurants first and ask waiters if they find anyone suspicious. After that, we are sending in two undercover agents to try and lure him out.” Hotch explained and then a short silence ensued.

Y/N looked up from her file to find most of the team’s eyes on either her or Reid, “What?”

“You and Reid are the obvious candidates.” Hotch put it simply. Y/N glanced at Reid nervously, who happened to look just as nervous as she felt. He cleared his throat.

“Can I ask why us?” Spencer inquired.

“You two are the most compatible, considering your friendship and how close you are in age, and it would look the most realistic. We need to be as realistic as possible with this unsub, he is extremely picky. Make it believable. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch answered, straightening the files on the table and promptly leaving the conference room.

Spencer and Y/N both flushed and avoided each other’s gazes until they were on the jet.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay with this? I’m sure Hotch would understand if you’re not.” Spencer leaned over to ask softly once the briefing had ended and everyone settled in for the flight. Y/N looked from the window to him.

“No, yeah, yeah, I’m totally fine with it. I was just a little nervous because I haven’t gone undercover before, but how hard can it be, right?” She sent him a small smile and a shrug, hoping it would hide the nerves.

It turned out to be very hard.

Standing in front of a gross bathroom mirror in a police precinct, she analyzed herself in her fancy dress and elaborate makeup and some part of her found herself wishing it was real. All of it. She wondered what it would be like to actually go on a romantic date with Spencer. If she was being honest, it wasn’t her first time wondering that. Not long after she’d joined the team, she found herself growing more and more attracted to a certain endearing genius. At first it started as a normal friendship, but then he got too sweet, too good to be true. She found herself living in daydreams with him too often. Those daydreams never quite disappeared, they just seemed to permeate other aspects of her life.

Love made you stupid, she was aware. There was not a single moment that passed by that she wasn’t thinking of Spencer. She couldn’t help it, she was like a moth drawn to a flame. Except the flame was Spencer, and she’d never wanted to be burned so badly before. But she’d learned to suppress her feelings. They were coworkers and close friends after all. A romantic involvement could ruin both those relationships if it ended badly.

But now her team was depending on her to act extremely in love with Spencer and she wasn’t sure she could do it without actually raising suspicion to the fact that it was real the entire time. So it’s safe to say she was panicking a little.

“Y/N? We’re ready, you feeling okay?” Emily stuck her head in through the door to ask.

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally ready. I’ll be right out.” Y/N checked her makeup, made sure her earpiece was well hidden, and adjusted her fancy dress to hide her firearm one last time before stepping out. Across the room, Derek immediately finished up his conversation with one of the local officers just to walk over and provide her with a whistle of approval.

“Damn, Y/L/N! Looking good!” Derek outwardly announced, making her cheeks redden immediately.

“Oh shut up, Morgan, I’m still armed.” Y/N snapped back, although he was unable to take her seriously with her flushed features. He sent her a signature dazzling smile and she found it hard to keep one off her own face.

She turned a little to see Spencer staring at her with wonder. He was dressed in a black three-piece velvet suit with a bowtie. He looked simply exquisite. They both smiled wide as they neared each other, Spencer extending his hand to her in the most gentlemanly of ways. She let her hand slip into his, somewhat glad for the support he gave her because of her high heels while simultaneously getting butterflies at the slight touch of his hand.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Spencer smiled and spoke quietly to her, proud that he wasn’t a stuttering mess just yet.

“And you look...expensive.” She let her eyes roam over his outfit before letting out a harmonious laugh. Spencer couldn’t help but grin in response as he adjusted his waistcoat with his free hand. They’d decided that Y/N would be the one carrying a firearm instead of Reid because her dress hid it better than his suit could have.

“Alright, kids, settle down. Now, let’s go over the plan. You’re going to go into the restaurant, sit at a table where you can be sure our unsub, George Mendoza, has a perfect view of you. You’ll have to make it super believable, he has to believe you guys are head over heels for each other.”

Shouldn’t be hard, they both thought, sharing a glance even though they didn’t mean to.

Morgan was really selling this. Y/N wondered if he knew…

But then again, if Garcia knew, Morgan knew. She also may have been forgetting that she was on the A team of profilers and just maybe the heart eyes she often gave Spencer gave her away already.

“Now, we know he corners his victims in the parking lot. We have to make sure he follows you out. Prentiss and Morgan will be by the door to follow you two out and hopefully ambush Mendoza.” Hotch explained and the two of them nodded.

“Got it.” She said, already shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the heels making her feet ache. Spencer noticed and dropped her hand, only to wrap his arm around her waist in hopes of steadying her and giving her the extra support she needed. JJ and Emily shared a knowing glance as they watched the subtle interaction between the two lovebirds. Y/N smiled to herself but avoided looking at him in order to keep the redness of her face at a minimum.

Spencer led her to the black SUV parked outside and they both hopped into the backseat, with Morgan and Emily in the front.

“Ready?” She asked, looking over to see a nervous-looking Spencer beside her as the car came to a halt in front of the restaurant.

He took a deep breath and nodded, “Ready.” He got out of the car and jogged around it to open her car door. She mirrored his actions and took a deep breath as well before plastering a huge smile across her features as she stepped out of the car. Morgan and Emily drove off to keep from blowing their cover. She and Spencer walked towards the greeter behind the podium, her arm tightly wound around his.

“Reservation for Dr. Reid.” Spencer spoke confidently. Y/N had to keep from biting her lip at how much she loved the sound of that.

The greeter smiled, “Right this way.” he led them to a table and Y/N was in Mendoza’s direct line of sight.

“I’ve got eyes on Mendoza. He’s sitting with a woman and two bodyguards are guarding his table.” She spoke with a smile to Spencer and also to the team through her earpiece.

“I’ve got him.” Morgan confirmed from wherever he was, apparently he could see inside the restaurant.

Spencer turned to look ever so discreetly and pretended to be looking for the waiter. He noticed Mendoza ogling Y/N and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Do you wanna switch seats with me?” Spencer asked, visibly uncomfortable.

“What, why? Are you okay?” She replied.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m...fine, I just thought you might be more,” he cleared his throat, “comfortable if he wasn’t looking at you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest for a moment before glancing over to Mendoza, “Well, I’m fine, besides I think it’s better this way..that I’ve caught his eye.” She said with a slight roll of her eyes, making Spencer break into a grin.

“Don’t switch seats, that’ll look suspicious.” Emily spoke into their ears, “Now, don’t be so stiff. Relax, order some food or some drinks, whatever.”

“Alright, alright...relaxing.” She spoke mostly to herself and looked up at Spencer. Somehow looking at him made her feel at ease. His soft brown eyes brought her the reassurance she needed. Her gaze was intoxicating and Spencer could feel his hands starting to sweat as he wiped them on his pants.

“So this place is really, really fancy.” She said as she looked over the menu, which she could barely understand, “Wonder why he likes it.”

“He has an intense fixation on rich couples. Perhaps he sees his parents in the couples he chooses.” Spencer said, looking over the menu as well.

“Stop talking about the case!” Morgan’s voice boomed into their ears.

“Right, right! Sorry!” She whispered, “Okay, okay. Spence, tell me about these dishes, I have no idea what to order.”

“Um, okay. Well, I think you’d really enjoy the gnocchi in roasted red pepper sauce, Rossi’d made the same sauce and you’d really enjoyed it then when it was paired with pasta. Also the flavor of gnocchi is pretty neutral so it pairs really well with pungent sauces. Did you know that gnocchi originated in Northern Italy because the climate was better suited for growing potatoes rather than grain?” he continued to speak about gnocchi and all the different sauces one could eat it with.

Morgan had every intention to interrupt Spencer’s ramble but then Emily noticed the heart eyes Y/N was giving him, “Wait, no stop. Look at her, she’s into it.” Morgan chuckled and shook his head at the couple.

“Sorry...you should have stopped me.” Spencer ended his spiel, shyly taking a sip from his glass of water.

“Stop you? Why would I ever do that, you know I love your little tangents. Being with you makes me feel smart, actually. Except when you go on about quantum physics, I cannot keep up with that no matter how hard I try, I’m sorry.” She laughed and Spencer felt his confidence returning, “I can’t believe you made gnocchi sound so good. Now, I have to try it!” She grinned at him and Spencer swore he saw her eyes twinkle.

“What will you get?” She smiled at him, playing with her earring, a nervous tick of hers. Was she really that nervous? Why did she look so good doing it?

“Spence?” She noticed him zoning out slightly but he zoned back in.

“Huh? Oh, sorry um, I was a little distracted.” He blushed a little.

“Oh, by what?” She glanced over her shoulder to see if there was anything distracting behind her.

“Nothing, you just look very pretty.” Spencer complimented and she could not control the intense rush of blood that raced to her face.

Morgan and Emily both drew in breaths through their teeth, “Daaaaamn, pretty boy’s got moves.” Derek whispered to Emily, their mics off.

Y/N giggled bashfully and looked down at her menu, shaking her head. This is all an act, Y/N. Get it together! Spencer reveled in her flushed cheeks for a moment before glancing down at his menu again, “I’ll probably just get the steak.”

For the next hour, they both made small talk with more encouragement from Emily and Derek. When the food came, she leaned closer to him and he fed her a piece of his steak, completely overlooking the fact that he’d just shared his fork with someone else. The sight of the two of them acting so hopelessly lovesick nearly made Emily and Derek sick themselves. During dinner, Spencer had migrated closer to her and they could barely keep their hands off of each other without any prompting from their earpieces. Y/N now had one hand on Spencer’s thigh and the other was intertwined with his as he draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer ever so slightly.

Hey, he was probably never going to get to do this again, might as well enjoy it.

They giggled together over stories of their pasts, “I’m serious, my leg was on fire and Morgan had to put me out!”

“Oh come on, you expect me to believe that?” She laughed, her head leaning onto his shoulder.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, laughing. In the midst of her laughter, Spencer felt the overwhelming need to press a kiss to her wonderfully flushed cheek, so he did. He placed a soft kiss to the side of her cheek and made sure to linger enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. The feel of his lips on her cheeks almost sent her in a spiral but she refused to meet his eyes, knowing that her eyes would most definitely give her away. Give away the longing and yearning she felt. She almost didn’t want to catch Mendoza because she knew that meant she’d have to give this up.

“Okay, lovebirds, Mendoza is losing interest. You have to up the ante somehow.” Derek spoke into their earpieces. Y/N was a little confused as to what more they could do to get his attention back to them, but she could practically hear the gears turning in Spencer’s head. She suddenly felt him separate himself from her and get up to walk around their table to be on her other side.

“What is he doing!” Emily whispered to Derek and he shrugged.

“Spence, what are you doing?” Y/N asked as he stood before her, offering his hand just like earlier in the evening.

“Y/N, do you trust me?” Spencer whispered as she put her hand in his. She felt him tug on it for her to stand with him and she finally nodded.

“Of course I do.” She whispered back, glancing around at people’s gazes who were now stuck on them.

“Then just go with it.” He smiled mischievously as he knelt down onto one of his knees. Y/N immediately caught herself hoping that it wasn’t the knee he injured before she realized what was happening. Her hands flew to her mouth in genuine shock. He was proposing, well, not actually proposing, but still! In his hand, Spencer held the ring she usually wore on her pointer finger, he must have taken it off without her noticing.

“Y/N, I have never doubted for a second that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. From the moment I met you, you consumed every piece of my mind, body, and soul. And at first I was afraid at how willingly I’d give it to you, but then I realized that there is not another person on this planet that I’d rather have my soul. You are the light of my life, Y/N. When I wake up in the morning, you’re the first person I think of and when I fall asleep, my thoughts are only occupied by you. There are around 170,000 words in the English language, and no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to express to you just how much I love you. Y/N, will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?” Spencer stared up at her, hoping the weight of his words would somehow reach her through the guise of the assignment.

Y/N stood there, tears gathering in her eyes from the sheer overwhelming-ness of it all. Never had she imagined (because she has imagined it, if we’re being honest) that the day Spencer Reid would propose to her, it would be fake. The tears slipped out, she felt like sobbing at the artificiality of it all. Luckily those tears were in her favor to sway external witnesses. She suddenly remembered that he’d asked her a question.

“Yes! Yes, a million times yes!” A heavy sob escaped her and Spencer quickly slipped the ring onto her finger. Spectators clapped wildly and cheered for them. That definitely caught Mendoza’s attention.

She threw her arms around his neck while he hugged her waist to lift her off the ground slightly. Spencer momentarily allowed himself to believe that this was real. In a moment of giddiness, he set her down again on the floor and pulled her in for a celebratory kiss by her waist. It took her a moment to realize what was happening, but soon reciprocated the tender kiss. Although it was short, it was unlike any other kiss she’d had. They pulled away from each other when the clapping and commotion had died down. Spencer had smiled graciously at people who were congratulating them, while she was still completely dazed from the kiss. They both went back to their respective seats, Spencer now back across from her rather than beside her.

Emily had lowkey been hitting Derek’s arm as they kissed, a moment she and JJ were surely going to tease Y/N to the ends of the Earth about.

Y/N had just barely composed herself enough to wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks which resulted in a low whisper coming from Spencer, “Are you alright?” She nodded and flashed him a smile, one that told him just how not fine she was, but Spencer decided to let it go for a moment. He hoped he hadn’t crossed the line with the kiss.

“Good job, kids. You are definitely back on Mendoza’s radar.” Morgan spoke into both their earpieces.

They waited another 10 minutes before making their exit, their meal already paid for. Spencer had his arm tight around her shoulders as they walked out of the restaurant and pretended to wait for the valet. Derek and Emily still had eyes on Mendoza inside, who waited exactly one minute before he and his bodyguards were on the move.

“Mendoza’s on the move. Y/L/N and Reid, get ready for the signal.” Emily spoke, still in their hiding position.

Y/N took her gun out of her thigh holster and kept it out of view. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand as Mendoza approached them from behind.

“Congratulations to the lovely young couple. Can I just say how well you two suit each other?” Mendoza’s slimy voice began and it made their skin crawl.

“Now!” Emily spoke and both she and Morgan emerged with their firearms raised at the three men.

Y/N swiveled around and aimed her gun at him, “FBI, hands up, now!” She yelled and Mendoza’s men came forward to attack the two of them when they all heard the clicks of Emily and Derek’s guns from behind them.

“Uh-uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Derek taunted. Mendoza visibly deflated and Spencer was quick to cuff him and read him his rights.

“George Mendoza, you are under arrest for the murder of 14 people…” Spencer went on as Emily and Derek cuffed the other two men. Y/N took a deep breath as she watched her teammates stuff them into police cars. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Hotch.

“Nice work, Y/L/N.” He gave her an approving nod and led her back to one of the SUVs. She immediately relaxed back into the seat and took off her heels.

On the jet back to Quantico, Y/N was teased quietly by Emily and JJ but they could tell that something was off about her. She wasn’t as bright as she usually was. Her eyes didn’t shine with the triumph that came with solving another case. Instead she was reserved and proceeded to retreat into herself when the teasing had stopped.

Oh how she wished it was real. She found herself keeping the ring on her ring finger rather than returning it to its rightful place on her pointer finger. She wanted to live in the daydream for as long as she could. Spencer’s words swirled around in her head with no shame or trepidation. She didn’t have an eidetic memory, but she would remember those words forever. Hearing them over and over seemed to have cracked and broken her heart and she was frantically trying to piece it back together. On the far side of the jet, Spencer was in a pool of regret. He wouldn’t have kissed her if he knew it’d make her uncomfortable. She has barely spoken to him since they closed the case and it didn’t seem like she would be talking any time soon.

Hotch had given them two days off to cool off from the case and get some much needed sleep. Y/N thought that spending time away from Spencer would somehow heal the cracks in her heart, but they only seemed to make it worse. She knows she shouldn’t have cried into that tub of ice cream, but she couldn’t help it. She thought back to her friend who’d just gotten engaged the previous month and while she was never the jealous type, she found that feelings of envy were inevitable. She wondered if Spencer had meant anything he’d said. What did it mean if he did? No, no, she wasn’t even going to entertain the thought that he might feel anything for her. That would only lead to false hope and possibly deeper heartbreak.

But…

The way he’d looked at her when he said he loved her. That couldn’t be faked, right? She was a profiler for goodness’s sake, she should have been able to tell, but it was abundantly clear that her feelings for Spencer got in the way of her profiling skills.

Going back to work was relatively easy, except for the fact that she couldn’t look Spencer in the eye without hearing the words he’d said to her. It was ridiculous of her to even consider the fact that he might have not been just acting. She’d spoken barely two words to him and Spencer was itching all day to speak with her, but he just couldn’t. They were both avoiding each other for the wrong reasons. Unfortunately, their coworkers noticed the obvious shift in behavior. It was so unlike the two to be so awkward around each other. JJ had even caught Spencer doing a 180 and returning to his desk as soon as he saw Y/N at the coffee machine.

Something must be done.

They’d all decided to leave quietly 15 minutes early, minus Hotch and Rossi who were already cooped up in their offices. They hoped the empty bullpen could give them the privacy they needed to talk about whatever they needed to.

“Hey, Em, could you look at this for me? I think--” Y/N trailed off as she glanced up from her paperwork to see an almost completely empty bullpen, “Oh, where did everybody go?” she asked herself and technically Spencer, who also seemed to be totally engrossed in his work.

“Hm, I think everyone left already.” Spencer stood from his desk, bones cracking as he did so.

“That’s weird…” she shrugged and tried to get back to work.

“Um, so what did you need Emily for? I could take a look at it if you want.” Spencer offered, walking over to her desk and leaning on the side of it.

“Uh..y-yeah, sure.” She stammered as she looked for the file she just set down, having him in close proximity was making her mind go numb for a second, “Here, um...I think it was filed in the wrong folder. I’ll just--uh..give it to JJ tomorrow or something.” She swallowed, avoiding his eyes as she showed it to him.

“Hold on a second, I think...this...goes in here with this case…” he trailed off as he grabbed a folder from his own desk.

“Huh, someone must have accidentally placed it on my desk instead of yours.” She nodded.

“It was probably Anderson.” They both said at the same time, making them both laugh.

It felt right to laugh with him again. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat when she finally looked up and grinned at him. He felt like the air was somehow restored to his lungs. He watched as she shyly looked back down and tucked some hair behind her ear. He cleared his throat and fumbled with the file in his hand.

“Hey, I--uh...never got the chance to apologize...for uhm, how things went when we were, y’know undercover.”

Wow, real smooth Spence. Great job.

He watched as her brows furrowed together, eyes lifting to meet his, “What do you mean?”

“I...shouldn’t have...kissed you, I’m sorry. I just thought...I don’t know, it seemed like most couples usually kiss after proposals and I thought if we didn’t kiss it would have looked weird. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Y/N.” He apologized and Y/N’s heart might have definitely exploded in her chest. Here was this sweet, sweet man who was apologizing because he felt like he made her uncomfortable, as if that’s the reason she’d been acting weird.

“No, it didn’t make me uncomfortable at all!” She laughed it off, shaking her head. My God, Spencer Reid, there really is no one else like you.

He fought off a relieved smile, “Oh, it didn’t?” She shook her head, laughing wholeheartedly now.

“No, on the contrary, I quite liked it, Dr. Reid.” She rolled her eyes, still giggling.

“Why have you been avoiding me and acting all awkward then?” He laughed with her.

��God, Spencer, did you really think I was being awkward because you kissed me?” She spoke, her arms lifting up and coming back down in disbelief.

“Yes!” he nodded, crossing his arms and shifting as he leaned on her desk, “I thought I’d made you uncomfortable…”

“No...Spencer, that’s not it at all…” She smiled softly but it began to fade as she stared at him.

There are around 170,000 words in the English language, and no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to express to you just how much I love you.

“Then what is it, Y/N? What’s going on?” He pursed his lips, wanting to absorb any and all the pain she’d ever felt in her life.

She had to know.

“The things you said...while you were uhm...proposing. Did--did you mean any of them?” She looked up at him with the largest doe eyes he’d ever seen. Her eyes began to shine with tears as her shoulders tensed with anticipation.

He shifted again uncomfortably at the question and her unfaltering gaze, “I--uh, I did, actually.” The heat rushed to his face and ears, “I definitely did mean them, Y/N. Does--does that make you feel weird?”

“No, no, not in the slightest,” her face broke out into another grin, this one with hints of relief, as she stood up from her desk chair to be at eye-level with him, “actually, if I’m being honest, I wanted you to mean them.”

Spencer smiled as he uncrossed his arms, “Is that right?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, placing both her hands on the sides of his neck, his hands now resting comfortably on her waist. She watched as his gaze never left her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes briefly flickered upwards to hers for permission.

“Please do.” She smiled before he connected their lips.

It felt right this time. She knew it did because she could finally savor the feeling of her stomach doing somersaults. She knew because she could finally know the feeling of his large hands roaming the expanse of her back in efforts to pull her closer. She knew because she could finally feel the incredibly soft tufts of hair at the base of his neck as she weaved her fingers through them.

In the distance, Hotch and Rossi simultaneously checked the bullpen through the blinds of their offices at the suspicious silence. Both of them shook their heads and laughed at the blooming of young love.

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echo-of-sounds · 5 years ago

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hands

Small headcanons about the hands of Aizawa, Toshi, Hizashi, Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog.

Hands have always been one of my favorite body parts. I used to love anatomy and wanted to be a surgeon. But once I saw a video of a surgery, I lost all interest.

Warnings: it’s nothing in any detail but some of these mention injuries/blood

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta has big palms. Hair and veins are noticeable on both sides. On the dorsal side, dark hair from his arms brushes along the outside. There’s a light dusting on his proximal phalanges. Prominent veins line the dorsal side as well. You can trace them up along his wrist and forearm.

On the palmar side, blue and purple veins lay close to his pale skin’s surface. They’re seen remarkably far up his arm and down into his fingers. A few light scars mark his palm. And warmth radiates from his palm. It’s excellent on chilly nights. While cuddling, his hands slide under your shirt, keeping your stomach warm.

His fists are one of his main weapons (on his body). Consequently, his knuckles have taken a beating. Even with the proper posture and punching technique, his fingers will eventually feel the damage of socking skull bones over and over, even more so since he doesn’t wrap them. His metacarpophalangeal joints (MCP) are a little distorted. His pinky’s shifted, his middle is much higher than the others, and his ring’s have receded. They don’t affect his hand movements, but he does feel pain and gets twitches every now and then.

His cuticles and skin around the nails are dry, flaky, and peeling. Most of the skin on his hands is rough and dry, but he never uses lotion. If you want to help, just sit beside him one evening as he’s watching TV and massage thick layers all over his hands and fingers. And keep his hands in yours. He’ll completely forget and rub/wash it off.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshi’s long fingers easily wrap around your thigh. They rub and squeeze and, despite the roughness, feels pleasing on yours because of their weight. However, they are prone to shaking and weakness. His physical health may be the source, but his anxiety also causes trembling. Days when sleep is little and anxiety is high, it’s the worst. If you happen to notice it, don’t comment, just hold his hand for comfort.

His hands are just so big and beautiful. When he had his powers, his hands were rougher and dryer. He has calluses below the proximal interphalangeal joints (PIP). His index, middle, and ring finger are the worst ones. Dry, cracked skin surrounds them, stretching around and between each finger. Thick skin covers his upper palm.

Now that he isn’t working as a Hero, his hands aren’t constantly being beaten and cracked and torn, and have (somewhat) healed. He started using heavy-duty reparative lotion and the improvement is clear. His skin isn’t as cracked and rough.

The tendons in his hands and wrists are very prominent, especially on his dorsal side. The extensor pollicis brevis and longus are noticeable even when his thumb is resting. He also has a palmaris longus tendon that you can feel quite a ways down his forearm.

Toshi loves when you play with his hands- move his fingers, trace his tendons, kiss his knuckles, massage his palm, anything. Though his fingers are often cold. When he first reaches for your hand, it’ll jump you a little. At night, he’ll tuck his hands in your shirt or wrap you tightly in his arms to warm them up. On the plus side, he always wants to cuddle!

Yamada Hizashi

Hizashi’s palms aren't that big. It's made up for with his beautifully long, nimble, and agile fingers. His proximal and middle phalanges are elongated. They’re steady and dexterous, letting him handle tasks that require care and precision. And since his fighting style doesn’t call for his hands in any way, they aren’t all roughed up and dry.

He always takes care of his fingernails. They’re trimmed, the skin around them is perfect, they’re sometimes painted black or dark purple, and he likes wearing clean-cut, masculine rings.

They’re fairly warm. His gloves help. If you’re ever stuck outside on a chilly night, he’ll take your hands and tuck them in his pockets with his hands. They’re so smooth and fluid as they rub yours. And at home, they give glorious massages, caressing and stroking everywhere.

From playing instruments, there are a few guitar calluses on his fingertips. They’re nowhere near as bad as the other guys' though. Along the same lines, aches and joint stiffness bothers him if he’s on a marathon playing piano and bass. You’ll have to step in and tell him to stop because he won’t want to, possibly hurting himself in the process.

Taishiro Toyomitsu

Big. Really big. Seriously, his palms are huge. Tai will pat your head and it'll feel like a book is being knocked against you. And, god, his fingers. They’re thick and solid and oh so delicate as he picks up tiny cupcakes.

His flexion lines are deeper than average and there are a few calluses on his upper palms. It’s being cracked and dry he needs to worry about though. It doesn’t help that he’s always washing his hands because he goes from fighting to eating to fighting to eating multiple times a day. He could use lotion more often than he does.

Tai’s MCP joints are like Aizawa's, but his are a little more misshapen and damaged. His pinky’s warped outwards, pulling the skin tighter in that area. His middle finger’s bumps high and is sensitive to touch. Sometimes when his hand is overworked, his fingers won’t glide up and down naturally. It’s almost like they snap up and down instead. His metacarpals and muscles are often sore as well.

They definitely deserve pampering. Ice his wrists for fifteen minutes, then carefully massage his palms and knead his fingers. The popping and cracking don’t hurt him. It actually feels nice as the tension releases. A groan or two might slip out. After, he’ll want to repay you… using his fingers.

Gang Orca

They feel different because Kugo’s skin isn’t human, but it’s not a bad difference. He enjoys running his palm over your skin and it’s surprisingly soft considering his job. Seeing his huge hand on your stomach fuels something deep within him.

His fingers are long, his palms are big, and his joints are robust. His hands are just sturdy powerhouses. Finger pull-ups are no problem for him. Yet they’re still gentle in everything they do.

Tendons on his dorsal side may not be able to be seen, but they definitely can be felt. Move his fingers around while stroking the back of his hand, and they’ll pull and constrict under your thumb. They’re just as strong as the rest of him.

Because of his mutation, he doesn’t have nails. His fingertips are pointer than an average human's, and he’s always been careful with them. As a kid, he scratched things a lot. Now, after years of training and bodily awareness, it rarely happens. But he’s still scared of scratching someone, specifically you and children.

Kugo’s skin doesn’t crack and peel. Although they do dry out and it’s painful. Lather his hands in body butter then put plastic gloves on him to keep the moisture close.

Hound Dog

Rough, calloused, thick, and firm- that’s not just Ryo’s personality but his hands too. His palms are calloused. His fingers are thick and firm and do damn near everything roughly. Papers crinkle when he picks them up. Pen and pencils break in half when he uses them. A few laptops and tablets have been busted from him grabbing them so hard. He could take a few pointers from Kugo on how to be gentle.

Under his PIP joints, there are rather severe calluses. They break open and bleed and regularly cause itchiness/pricking. Band-aids don’t last. Bandages get torn. One day you’re just going to have to wrap his fingers together and duct tape it closed to let his skin heal. He’ll bite the tape to get it off. Distract him with food or movies.

Hair comes from his arm up to the back of his hand with some dusting the tops of his fingers. His extensor digitorum tendons are handsomely raised with veins vining around them. They’re perfect for when you’re in the car and your thigh is begging to be squeezed, highlighting their size and strength even more.

Even though Ryo’s nails aren’t actually pointy, they’re tough and durable, and if they hit you at just the right angle, they could easily puncture your skin, maybe take a tiny chunk out. He trims his nails to prevent them from hurting anyone. The second they’re five millimeters over, they’re clipped and filed down.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #All Might #all might x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #fatgum #fatgum x reader #gang orca #gang orca x reader #hound dog #hound dog x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons

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sibillascribbles08 · 4 years ago

Text

Dareth and ten year old Toby

Dareth yawned, begging his coffee to kick in as he took another long sip. He went to bed at a decent hour, only to be awoken by the kid sneaking into his room. Of course he bolted as soon as he was spotted, hiding back in his own room that he’d occupied for almost a month now.

A month. They picked that kid up in the garage almost a month ago and he still wouldn’t come out. Dareth wasn’t sure what to do with him anymore. He wouldn’t throw him out, of course not, but maybe it was time to find another place to put him.

One more sip of coffee. He didn’t normally drink it black but he tricked himself into believing it would work better that way. Dareth set the mug down and sighed.

The kid stood next to his chair.

Dareth jerked, almost flinging coffee across the room.

At least that woke him up.

“Wh--kid?” Dareth looked at him. “What are you doing down here?”

The kid stared at him, glaring, always glaring. If Dareth wasn’t aware he could pick the kid up with one hand he might find it intimidating.

“You’re talking.” The kid said.

“Uh...”

“You never talked before. Why now?” He pointed.

Dareth studied his hands while he could. His fingernails weren’t long but they were ragged, likely being chewed on, but there was still some dirt underneath. He could see a film of dust and old sweat on his skin as well, not even speaking about his hair. Probably only shiny from natural oils.

But getting him to come out of his room had taken a month how long would it take to get him to take a bath?

The kid puffed out his cheeks. “Answer me!”

Dareth sighed, his exhaustion coming back. “Me and Ronin trade the ability to speak sometimes.”

“Huh?” The kid lowered his hand and stepped back, eyes wide. “What? How?”

“Now that, is a personal question.” Dareth pointed back before drinking more coffee. “And since you aren’t inclined to tell me anything about yourself, I think I’ll do the same.”

The pouting face returned, hands clenched at his sides. Dareth just decided to pretend he wasn’t paying attention.

“What is that?”

He glanced over this time to see the kid pointing at his mug.

“Coffee.” Dareth said.

“Co-ffee.” The kid repeated the word slowly, moving his mouth with each syllable like he’d never heard it before. “What’s coffee.”

“Drink that helps me wake up.”

“Um... can I see it?”

Dareth blinked at him a few times before he held the mug out. The kid flinched at first, stepping away, but then crept forward and leaned over the cup. His nostrils moved before his nose scrunched up.

“Ew.” He covered his face and stepped back. “Smells bad.”

“You learn to love it.” Dareth finished it off. “You hungry kid? Want breakfast?”

Dareth stood. The kid scurried away, ducking behind a chair. Dareth just watched him, waiting, until he finally crept back out.

“You want some eggs? Bacon?”

“Ba-con... eggs... what are those?”

Dareth’s heart stuttered. “Huh? You don’t know?”

The kid shook his head. “What are those things you always put outside my room?”

“A... a sandwich?”

He nodded. “I want one of those.”

Dareth tried not to let his panic show. Kid didn’t even know what a sandwich was? What eggs were? “Well, hang on. Sandwiches aren’t always breakfast food. I just took those because I figured it’d be easiest to eat.” And less clean up later, but he didn’t say that. “Why not try something new?”

Pouty face. “But sandwiches are my favorite.”

“Kid, you don’t even know what eggs are. How do you know those won’t be your favorite.”

It seemed to present quite the dilemma. The kid almost seemed distressed, eyes darting around.

“Look, I’ll cut you a deal.” Dareth put his hands in the pockets of his sweat pants. “I’ll make some breakfast and if you don’t like any of it I’ll make a sandwich instead.”

“Um... okay.”

With that out of the way, Dareth headed into the kitchen. He opened the main fridge, snatching up half a dozen eggs, a package of ground sausage and a package of bacon. Simple, not too crazy. He almost worried he’d blow the kid’s mind if he tried to make pancakes or waffles.

He set the food aside as he turned on the griddle. They had a smaller home kitchen upstairs, but Dareth just kept using the one down here. Between him, Ronin, Harumi, the kid, and sometimes a whole grizzly bear, it was worth it just to cook in bulk.

The kid came into the kitchen, glancing around. Dareth let him wander but kept half an eye to make sure he didn’t pick up something dangerous.

“What... what are those for?” The kid sounded terrified as he pointed to the large sinks in the back. Three in a row all with faucets and a hanging spray hose.

“Washing dishes.” Dareth grabbed a bowl and started cracking eggs.

That got the child’s attention. That startled look over came his face and he shuffled closer to watch. “What is that?”

“These,” Dareth cracked another, “are the eggs. The shell isn’t edible so you break them open to get the good stuff.” When he emptied them all he let the kid look into the bowl.

Another look of disgust. “Looks gross.”

“Eh, there’s not really a way to make eggs look not gross.” Dareth grabbed a whisk and started to beat them. Scrambled eggs always were the best way to introduce someone to them, in his experience. At least Harumi and Ronin weren’t too picky about how they were cooked.

He tossed in some pepper and salt, though not a lot in case the kid wound up not liking it. After tossing some butter on the griddle and letting it melt down, he poured the egg mixture on top.

They hissed when they met the hot metal. The kid jumped, but didn’t run.

Dareth flashed a smile at him. He grabbed two short hand spatulas off the wall and began to push the eggs around on the griddle. Sometimes he’d cut through them, other times he’d flip them entirely.

When the eggs were cooked he scooped them up and set them aside on a plate. Next came the bacon and sausage. He laid out the strips on the back of the griddle before dumping the whole container of sausage. Once again he used the spatulas to separate it and shape them into smaller patties.

While it was cooking he flipped the spatula in his hand and winked at the kid. For a second he swore he saw a smile.

Pyrite chose then to come inside. The smell of cooking meat must have inticed him to wake up. The kid looked at the bear wide eyed, curious, but not at all frightened.

“Morning buddy. You mind if the kid pets you?” Dareth gestured. “Looks like he wants to.”

“That’s fine.” Pyrite yawned, showing his teeth. “Just not the snout.”

“He says you can give him a pat, kid.” Dareth nodded. “Just not on the nose.”

“You can talk to him?” The kid gasped. He slowly approached the bear, hand out. His small hand practically vanished in Pyrite’s dense fur.

“Sure can. I can talk to the rats too. They talk about you sometimes.”

“What? No fair.” His voice turned into a mumble. “I wanna talk to them.”

Dareth laughed and flipped the bacon. “Hang out long enough maybe I’ll give you some pointers.

The kid sat on the floor with Pyrite while Dareth finished cooking. The bear gave him a few sniffs, making some humming noises that Dareth wasn’t fond of. It usually meant he found something unusual, but no point in asking about it right now.

“Alright.” Dareth made up two plates before piling some extras in a bowl for Pyrite. “Lets head back to the table, huh?”

He let them leave first--because stepping over Pyrite was more trouble than it was worth--and set the plates on the table before putting the bowl on the floor.

“Uh, what do you want to drink, kid? Milk? Juice?”

Once again, the kid stared at him, apparently not knowing what those words mean either.

“Okay I’ll try this. Out of all the liquids in cups I gave you beforehand, what was your favorite.”

“Um... actually that was um... the brown one. It was warm.”

Hot chocolate huh? With cinnamon? That was also Ronin’s favorite.

Curious.

“That was hot chocolate, but that’s also not really a good thing for breakfast. What about the white one?”

“Yeah, that one was good.”

Dareth got the kid a glass of milk and himself some more coffee before sitting down. He intentionally picked the farthest seat, making sure the kid felt as comfortable as possible.

The kid didn’t look entirely comfortable though. Instead he stared at the fork in his hand, obviously trying to figure it out.

“You uh... never seen a fork either?” Dareth asked.

The kid shook his head.

“Uuuh okay.” Dareth leaned over to one of the other tables, where he kept the rolled up silverware, and pulled out a spoon. “How about this one?”

The kid nodded.

“Okay, well this is a spoon. It’s a lot like a fork. Forks are just built to be able to stab food as well as scoop it up.” He decided to demonstrate, cutting off a bit of sausage and poking it. “Like this.”

The kid’s eyes seemed to flash with determination. He gripped the fork in his hand like he was ready for a fight. He stabbed it onto the plate--a bit too hard judging from the screech from the ceramic--but managed to get some eggs on the end of it. He made a face at it, obviously put off by the way it looked, but put it in his mouth anyway.

His face light up. He stared at the plate like he’d just struck gold. Suddenly he was shoveling the eggs into his mouth way faster than he should be. Dareth barely had the chance to speak before the sausage and bacon vanished along with it.

“Good.” The kid picked up the plate and licked off any stray bits of egg. “That’s so good!” He smacked the plate down, a huge grin on his face.

Something gripped Dareth’s heart and squeezed as he stared at that open smile, the crooked baby teeth with one of the front ones missing.

“Hah.” He tried to smile back, ignoring the lump in his throat. “First time I’ve seen you smile.”

Sadly, that made it vanish. The kid stared back at him, bewildered. He picked up the plate again and stared at it, as if looking at a reflection. “Oh.”

“Sorry, don’t worry about it.” Dareth forced a laugh. “Hey, if you want seconds I’ll gladly give you more, kid. If Ronin snoozes he loses.” He went to finally start eating his own breakfast.

“Toby.”

He almost dropped the fork. “Huh?”

“Toby, my name is Toby.” The kid stared at the table, hands now in his lap. Were his cheeks turning red?

Dareth smiled, that same tight sensation returning to his chest. “Nice to meet you Toby, I’m Dareth.”

“I know.” Toby tried to make himself even smaller. “I hear you and Ronin talking, sometimes.”

“Well...” Dareth finally took a bite. “I’m sure you have your reasons for being scared, Toby. But I promise none of us are going to hurt you. Not on purpose.”

“Mmm...I know.” Toby moved on his seat, probably rubbing his hands together under the table. “I just figure you’ll... kick me out eventually.”

“Well, we aren’t the most qualified people to take in homeless kids.” He forced another laugh before clearing his throat. “But we won’t kick you out either, promise.”

“Mmm...” Toby didn’t look convinced.

“Nevermind it right now. You want seconds? Or maybe something else? What about some fruit?”

Toby squinted at him. “What’s a ‘fruit’?”

Dareth sighed. Oh boy.

#scribbly fics #sort of for dareth day but not entirely #clone universe #Toby: Do I look like I know what a ter-may-ter is?

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gryffindor-glizzy-gobbler · 4 years ago

Text

Out Past Curfew (Pt. 5/5)

How did you get here?

With Draco’s hand clamping against your thigh, your wonder and confusion on how you went from patrolling the ground to his thighs clamping your thighs while his hot tongue glided over your folds was merely pushed into the back of your mind.

Your brain was in a frenzy as he held you steady as to not have your hips accidentally buck into his face. Accidentally.

His mouth was amazing. He knew exactly where to put his tongue and exactly hot to explore you. Your entire nervous system was being filled with pleasure as your hand found it’s way to clamp onto his hair. Denying it was useless, because even Draco could feel that you were melting under his tongue.

 It could feel you tighten around his tongue, but the rest of you was melting. Your arms were limp as you had your hand under your ass as to keep the coldness of the counter from infecting your skin, but it was no use. Every other inch of your body was freezing, but your lady parts were hot.

 Scorching even.

Sealing his mouth over your clit, you could only let out a moan that sounded like an “oh-hu-hu” if your shuddered voice had to be spelled out on parchment. Dragging his slick tongue up and down the top and bottom of your vagina, your walls were surging up under his touch.

You felt your pleasure climb, almost like it was trudging up it stairs and at the end of the stair-riddled hallway there was a door. A door that, if opened, would open you and unfold you like a piece of paper. And a result of it’s opening? Thick, white, and hot.

But you weren’t there yet. You were reaching towards your climax, and Draco could smell it. In fact, he could smell everything. Your sweat, your pussy, and even the perfume you lightly sprayed yourself with before you came to patrol.

One hand in his hair and the other running through your own as a stress-reliever, you were reaching your peak. You were almost over the edge due to the pleasure that was arching through your spine as you shakily gasped his name. His name rolled off the tongue, that’s how perfect it was.

He got made fun of his name when he was a kid, but oh you loved it.

You loved the way it was spelled. You loved the way it looked. You loved the way it sounded when you moaned it out as he took his tongue out of your folds. Right before your climax.

Right before you could cum.

“Bastard..” You panted, feeling a sourness in your throat as he pulled his entire body away from you, his hands practically having to peel off of your thighs. You were sticky, and you felt like a gross mess as he ran a hand through his hair that you had messed up even further beyond repair.

“Turn over for me, squibby...” 

“I don’t want to do shit for you.” You pouted, and the smirk that twitched at his lips was enough to make you want to slap him. Or kiss him. You hadn’t quite decided yet.

“Do it or I’ll do it for you.” He threatened, and the feeling that consumed your chest was the farthest thing from fear. “God that’s hot..” You purred in the quietest voice that your voice would allow without it being complete silence. Not wanting to piss him off in fear of your legs being intact tomorrow morning, you shifted a bit forward away from leaning against the mirror to adjusting yourself to be on your stomach, your legs dangling off the egge of the counter. Your ass was being displayed. Just for him. Just for Draco.

He used his foot to kick your legs apart, which surprised you as your chest moved down the counter a little bit in response to the sudden lowering of your hips. “Shit-“ You felt the cold air seep in between your cheeks, causing a chill to flatten your stomach against the counter completely. He hadn’t even touched you, yet the pure thought of your ass being at his mercy was enough to make you even wetter than you were already before.

“What did you say?” He was referring to what you had muttered earlier, and you cursed mentally, a bit regretful he heard what you were spitting against yourself. Feeling a fit of nervousness begin to flutter in your stomach, you pursed your lips together, not keen on filling his ego more so than it already was.

“Nothing..” You hummed with a buzz of your lips as your eyes were guided to the mirror where you could see him, Draco finally slipping down his pants, the belt already being on the ground thanks to you. “I think I heard you say something..” His eyes were looking you up and down, almost like he wanted to eat you - literally, not like how he just did - and you felt your chest tighten as your eyes trailed down to the bulge in his boxers.

He was bigger than you thought.

“I-I think you made your point, Draco. You have a big cock, whoopee.” You quivered out of fear and.. desire. Your tone was half-joking, of course. Despite the fear you had for his size, you still wanted him. Oh fuck you wanted him.

“I don’t think you’ll understand until you taste it.”

Holy shit...

Finally positioning himself behind you to where he could press his hand against your back to feel over the curves of your spine, his hand was cold against your skin, which was now beginning to heat up. His hands were so much bigger than yours, and they were a lot more calloused as well. You could only imagine what his dick felt like.

After a moment of palming your ass and feeling over the softness of your rear, you felt your legs turn into practically jelly as Draco eased the thick length of his member deep inside of you. Your brain turned into mush as well as the pleasure that was contained at your womanhood was spreading throughout your body, causing your fingers to clench hard against your palms, leaving crescent-shaped indents from your fingernails.

He was huge.

Feeling the texture of his cock run inside your walls, he was going slow in and out of you, not wanting to hurt you yet. The piercing of your sex was enough to make tears bubble up at the corners of your eyes, but nonetheless you didn’t let out quiet sobs. Rather, you let stifled moans escape through your gritted teeth, not wanting to alert the entire school that you were getting fucked by one of the hottest guys in schools.

Draco was pumping his length in and out of your ass for what must have been 30 to 45 minutes before you began to feel the closest to your peak than you ever had that night. You had many chances to cum beforehand, but Draco could feel your liquids around his dick way before you could, so he was edging you. Oh boy, he was edging you hard. Every time you felt like you were going to cum, he would pull his dick out of you and stick his thumb in your entrance, arching to dig his teeth into your shoulder.

Him not cumming really quickly did a bit more than hurt your pride, but the prolonged pleasure was something you weren’t exactly against. Though that didn’t make him ripping your climax away from you any less painful every time he did it. Just as you felt yourself beginning to go over the edge and release, Draco pulled you by the horns backwards just so he could keep railing into you.

This boy had the stamina of a horse, it was insane.

“You’re such a little whore, squibby.. For years you said you hated me but here you are, bent over the sink counter, feeling my cock all up in your tummy. You like that, don’t you?” The dirty talk that convulsed out of the blonde as a surprise, but a welcome one as you felt your wetness increase due to the words that rattled your brain.

“Stop choking back your moans before I give you something to choke on.”

As your eyes rolled into the back of your head due to ecstasy, he reached his hand around the side of your frame to shove two of his longest fingers in your mouth. His middle finger and his pointer finger pried open your lips like a clamp, and you couldn’t choke back the pent up moan through your teeth due to this action.

“I want to hear your voice. I want the whole school to hear your moans. I want everyone- and I mean everyone.. to know your mine.”

The noise that escaped your throat was one that you were a bit ashamed to admit even came from you. Your voice seemed to fuel Draco’s ego, though, since this noise began to make his speed in and out of your pussy increase. He was going rougher, harder, and holy shit was he going a lot faster. You could only wonder how many women he had done this with before, considering how good he was as it.

You were damn sure though his dick hadn’t gone anywhere near Pansy though, which gave you some solace.

Lifting your chin up off of the surface of the counter, he used his other hand to wring it into your hair and yank it backwards, causing some strain in your neck that was beautifully intertwined with the pleasure in your womanhood.

 You were beginning to become overstimulated at this point, but damn did you love it. Hearing a muffled grunt from Draco’s end, he was now beginning to go faster than he ever had gone before. The weasel was breaking you open, and you know after tonight your virginity could never be restored. Not like you wanted it to be, anyways.

He had two hands on you, one in your hair and one in your mouth, causing your head to arch back in a way that forced you to look at your face. You looked pathetic. You felt pathetic. Completely at the mercy of this jackass’s cock, it was a place you never wanted to be for years. But now, you couldn’t picture yourself anywhere else.

Collapsing wasn’t the correct way to describe it. Melting seemed more accurate. As his fluids began to spill into your insides, pumping into your tummy like disposal, you contracted hard around his cock as your own liquids sloshed around his shaft while crying out his name.

Hips stuttering backwards when he pulled out of you, his cock coated with a thick whiteness, your knees knocked together as you slid off of the counter to crumble onto the floor, only having one hand on the marble surface. You were a panting mess when his cum began to seep out of your soaking hole and leak onto the floor, not being able to hold all of his juices in your stomach from how much he cummed inside of you.

You were only so lucky that you began taking birth control a couple months ago to reduce your period cramps. The heat of his liquids inside of you continued to move around a bit, there still being little increments of white spilling onto the floor every time you moved to breath. Glancing over at Draco, you noticed he was on his knees leaning against one of the stall doors, looking absolutely spent. You gave him a run for his money, that’s for sure. He could’ve edged you as long as he liked and the two of you still would’ve been brought to this point.

Tired, out of breath, and basking in the afterglow of the best sex the two of you ever had. Well - for you, at least - it was the only sex you’ve ever had.

For about 2 minutes you didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t say anything to you as you began to hop back into your clothes after wiping yourself down from sweat and cum. Once you were both dry enough, Draco looked at the clock and broke the awkward silence with a shaky warning.

“I think we’re out past curfew, squibby.”

#draco malfoy #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #fanfiction #draco x reader

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brelione · 5 years ago

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Field Trip With A Rich Bitch lll

Part One Part Two

Warnings:Swearing,Ward Cameron,very boring/dumb.

“We both hate Ward and he doesn't want me around pogues.What if we fake date?I can get you into my house and into his office and we can mess him up,ruin him from the inside out.”He spoke in a voice right above a whisper.You blinked,your eyes hurting. “You want to fake date?”You asked.He nodded. “Think about it,you can come around and we’ll pretend like you've never heard of him and you don't know what he did.We can eventually get him to confess and get a recording of it and then get him put in prison.”He ran his fingers through your hair,not really thinking about it.You gulped,eyes still locked on him. “He’ll know who I am when he hears my name.”You sighed.He smirked. “Right,but we dont let him know that you know.It’ll all work out.”He mumbled,rubbing the material of your shirt between his fingers. “That’s a terrible idea.”You laughed.He frowned. “I think it's a great idea.”He mumbled,a bit offended.

“Well,you’ve never been the smartest.”You smiled,twirling a chain between your pointer finger and thumb. “But I don't have a better idea.You’re the easiest way in the house,I guess.You really think we can get him to confess?”You asked.A smile tugged at his lips. “I've heard you’re the queen of manipulation,why don't you prove it?”He challenged you.You let go of him,looking to the gravestones.Four of your dead families members six feet under the ground,probably listening to this conversation.You hoped they were listening to your conversation at least,it didn't matter if they approved what you were doing or not.It just made you feel better to think that maybe they were all vibing in the afterlife.You lifted your knees up to prevent yourself from sinking all the way into the mud.He had given you his phone so you could create a new contact,typing your phone number in.He followed you back to the garage.

He was a lot more calm on the way back,knowing where all the branches and large roots were on the path.He had swatted away a butterfly which caused you to turn and laugh at him. “Dude,chill,it's just a butterfly.”You giggled.He frowned. “Okay well you didn't have it flying at your face.”He argued.You grinned,biting your lip slightly. “Fuckin pussy.”You mumbled,turning your feet so you could slide down the dirt hill.He had a more difficult time,nearly falling on his ass as he held on to tree branches to help himself out.He jumped,grabbing onto your arm when he saw a small snake. “DOnt act like you’ve never seen a garden snake before.”You grinned,watching the small reptilian creature as it twirled its body around a twig.He shook his head. “You’ve never seen a garden snake?Damn,rich bitch,you really are a pussy.”You laughed,dragging him along.You used a key to unlock the garage door,pulling the door back up and ducking under the door.You went to your table,grabbing a piece of gum and folding it into your mouth.He stood by his bike,watching you while you fixed the hole in the seat. “It's done.Pay up,rich bitch.”You sighed quietly,rubbing the leather seat with your thumb.

He pulled out his thick brown wallet,handing over two hundred dollar bills.You took them,looking into his blue eyes. “Twenty dollars too much.”You told him.He put his wallet back in his pocket,shrugging his shoulders. “My dad murdered your parents,you deserve a little extra.”He smiled.You nodded,folding the money and placing the bills into your pocket. “I’ll text you later.”HE mumbled.You nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”You replied. “You know you should wear a helmet,right?”You asked.He rolled his eyes. “I know,I know.”He replied,grabbing the handle bars and walking out from the garage.He swung his leg over the seat,gripping the handle bars before driving off,leaving a cloud of dirt in his path.You chewed your gum,watching as he left.You restarted your work on another car that was covered in dents,scratches and missing half of a window.

Rafe zoomed out of The Cut,not wanting any witnesses that could possibly tell his dad that he was driving around the area.He pulled up to his house,seeing Sarah swatting away seagulls with a giant leaf.He parked his bike,leaning it on his kickstand and swinging his leg off and standing up straight.He let out a few shaky breaths,preparing himself to deal with his father’s interrogation.He placed a hand on the door handle,inhaling again to calm his nerves before opening the door and stepping into the cool,air conditioned mansion. “Where were you?”Ward asked,holding a cup of water and taking a sip from it. “I was with a friend.”He replied.Ward’s eyes narrowed. “What friend?”Ward asked,knuckles turning white as he squeezed the glass in his hand. “New friend.”Rafe squeaked out,avoiding his father's gaze. “Come here.”Ward demanded.Rafe gulped,looking up at him. “Rafe.Come.Here.”Ward repeated,reaching a hand into his pocket and taking out a small flashlight.

Rafe slowly stepped forward,avoiding Ward’s gaze.He set his glass down on the table,flicking his flashlight on.He raised his hand,gripping Rafe’s jaw to keep his attention,lifting the flashlight up to Rafe’s face and pointing it directly over his eye.Rafe blinked,trying to pull his head away.Ward squeezed his jaw,keeping the light on his pupils. “What’s this guy's name?”Ward asked,letting go of his son's jaw.Rafe cleared his throat. “She.”He mumbled.Ward furrowed his eyebrows. “Where does she live?”Ward asked.Rafe shrugged. “Far away.”He replied.Ward shook his head. “What’s her name?”Ward asked. “(Y/N).”Rafe replied,backing away a few steps from his father.He didn't miss the way that Ward’s face paled,his eyes getting a bit wide as his nose wrinkled. “How do I know you were really with her?”Ward asked.Rafe sighed. “You want me to call her or something?”Rafe asked,exasperated. “Call her,do it.”Ward demanded.

Rafe bit his tongue,taking out his phone.Ward watched him like a hawk as he scrambled through his contacts,eventually finding your name.He pressed it,choosing audio call.He lifted his phone to his ear,waiting for you to answer. “Put it on speaker phone.”Ward told him.Rafe glared down at the older man,pulling the phone away and changing it to speaker so he could hear the ringing loudly. “Dude-it literally has not even been an hour since ive seen you.What the fuck do you want?”Your voice spoke,the screeching of metal on metal in the background.Rafe smiled. “(Y/N) you're on speaker phone,my dad is also in the room.”He held back a laugh as he listened to the absolute silence on your end. “So did you want something?”You asked.Ward cleared his throat. “Can you confirm that you were with Rafe all of this afternoon?”He asked.You let out a loud sigh. “Yeah.”You replied,the annoyance clear in your voice even over the phone. “What were you guys doing?”Ward asked,staring at Rafe.

“He visited me at work and brought me food.What were you doing while he was gone?”You asked.Ward frowned as a smirk spread across Rafe’s face. “I was waiting for him to get home.How long have you and Rafe been friends?”Ward continued his questions.You sighed. “A while,I dont know.Rafe,I gotta go, I'm still at work.I’ll talk to you later.”You spoke quickly.Rafe took you off speaker phone,pressing the phone back to his ear. “Alright,Love you.”He grinned before hanging up.He watched his father’s expressions,the way his face sunk when he realized he had been defeated.It was a far too wonderful sight.Rafe couldn't imagine the expression that would go across the man's face when he was busted for a double homicide. “She’s your girlfriend?”Ward asked.Rafe nodded,twisting the ring on his finger and waiting for this conversation to be over. “Yeah.”Rafe replied,his voice low and angry.Ward nodded. “You should invite her to have dinner with us tomorrow night.”He suggested.Rafe rolled his eyes,jogging up the stairs. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”Wheezie asked,coming out of her room.Rafe sighed,walking past her and into his room,locking the door behind him and flopping down onto his bed.

It was seven.You knew cause you had set a timer.You grabbed your backpack that you kept on a hook,changing your clothes behind a truck.You now wore a bikini with denim shorts that were tight against your thighs.You stuffed your overalls into your bag along with your yellow shirt.You put you container of sugar in with the gum that you had left,half a bag of doritos and the other lemons you had into your backpack,forcing it to zip shut.Your phone dinged in your pocket.You huffed,betting in your mind that it was Rafe Cameron.You were correct,a text from a random phone number coming across your screen.My Dad wanted me to ask you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.You wanna come?You stared down at the text,considering leaving him on delivered.You were not exactly sure you were ready to face the homicidal liar that was Ward Cameron.But then again it was free expensive food in a huge mansion.It wasn't like Ward could kill you in front of his wife and children.Sure.You replied,watching as the three dots blinked as he typed a response.I’ll pick you up tomorrow.Text me your address.You read the message before turning your phone off.You locked up the garage,stretching your arms.

You spent your evening swaying back and forth in John.B’s hammock while you played a tune from a ukelele that John.B had laying around his house. “How was work today?”JJ had asked you,laying down next to you in the hammock.You sighed dramatically. “Shitty.”You replied,dragging your fingernail along the cords.He nodded,running his fingers through your hair.JJ was one of your closest friends,one that Rafe had beaten before.He was one of three boys that weren't terrified of you,that didn't bow down to you like you were their queen.You were the Pogue Princess.Of course Kiara was a Pogue Princess but you...you were the Pogue Princess.The other two boys were Pope and John.B.They knew your friendly,bubbly side that joked about death and baked lemon muffins.They also knew your bitchy side,the one everyone else knew.JJ always loved how easily you could switch between the two and how you could steal things so easily.It was kind of just your job in life. “Oof.”JJ had replied. “Are you hanging out with us tomorrow?”Kiara asked.You sighed. “Unfortunately I have plans after work so I cannot.”You replied.JJ’s eyebrows furrowed. “Plans without us?Who are you?”He asked.

You yawned. “I’ve got other friends,you know.”You grinned,letting the ukulele rest against the bark of the tree. “I should probably head home soon and shower.I’ll see you guys this weekend though.”You smiled,getting out of the hammock and grabbing your backpack.They booed you and you flipped them off as you walked around John.B’s house and down the road.Your house was only a ten minute walk so you didnt really care or ask anyone to walk you home.When you got to your house you tossed your backpack on the floor,hearing the doritos crunch.Your phone rang.You looked down at it.Rafe was trying to facetime you.You accepted the call. “What?”You asked.He laughed. “Wow...I cant just call you to call you?”He asked.You sighed,waiting for him to get to the point. “You never texted me your address.”He explained himself.You set your phone down on the counter top. “Correct.I’ll just walk to your house.”You yawned,pouring yourself a cup of water and mixing cinnamon into it.He frowned.

“But like...you live over a mile away.That’s just dumb.”He grumbled.You rolled your eyes,chugging the spicy liquid. “What do I even wear?We gotta make this bullshit believable.”You pulled your hair up into a bun.He smiled,only half of his face visible across your phone screen. “It doesnt really matter what you wear.You’ll look cute no matter what.”His face turned red as he waited for your response. “Whatever you say,pussy.”You replied,glancing at your phone screen. “I’ll text you my address in the morning,ive got work until three.”you told him,sitting on your counter with your phone now in your hand.He nodded. “We have dinner at like five so that works.”He grinned. “Cool.Im gonna go cause ive got shit to do.See you tomorrow,rich bitch.”You hung up before he could respond.You took a cold shower,pulling on an old t shirt and clean underwear.You looked through your dresser,finding a dark green shirt and light pants.That would work.Now all you had to do was fake date Rafe Cameron without letting your friends know while simultaneously destroying Ward Cameron psychologically until he admitted to murder.That sounded simple enough.

@gabbismith

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x you #sarah cameron #obx #kiara carrera #jj maybank #pope heyward #ward cameron

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gaillol-13 · 4 years ago

Text

ITTHIGSS AU

Cartoon encounter.

Part 3 of this (part 2) Swear warning!

*sigh* "it just doesn't make any sense!"

I've been trying to figure out who that guy is for a while now, ever since I got home from the interview today. It just seemed like something out of a horror film, I don't understand. And they sounded so much like...no. I sat down for a moment to look at the pictures I took, and tried to recall what happened in the room with the tv (and the closet).

"Ok, so blood was coming out of the Tv," I spoke "I heard the killer walking towards me, with their arms out to grab me. They're voice sounded static-like, they were humming the Captoon's theme song. And then one of the police officers went in the room, the humming stopped, I looked in the closet but they were gone...they..."

I sighed.

"They sounded so much like Benjamin, like, identical, the only difference is the static. But, he's been dead for almost a year now, it just doesn't make any sense..."

"Beb-beeep, beb-beeeeep!!! Movement detected!!!"

What?! Theres someone trying to get in the house? I immediately check the security cameras but find no one there. The only evidence is the broken steel doors and a note, I zoomed in on it to get a closer look at what it said, I turned pale.

"Bonjournie~ Mr.Melvin :)"

That's what the note said, and the paper had the same static texture as the hammer piece I had.

The same person who killed those criminals is here, and I'm next.

"MOTHER FUCKER!!!" I screamed, "Why? Why me?! Why is this guy targeting me?! Of course, its because I know too much, I should have just kept quiet, I should have just said they committed suicide, that would have made more sense than a cannibalistic cartoon-loving prick by slaughtering them with nooses and a fucking rubber hammer!!! But noooo! I have to open my big mouth and now this fucker's gonna kill me!!! GOD DAMN IT!!!!"

I tried my best to calm down, it's not easy to think if I'm going into my dinosaur brain. Okay, everything is going to be fine, he must have a weakness, everybody has one. I have lots of inventions that could be good in the situation I'm in, I just gotta think of a plan. Think Melvin think, if I were a cannibal who loves captoon, what would be my weakness?

Hmm... I looked around my room, I spotted one a bottle of paint thinner, huh. I saw this in a game once, thinner can dissolve paint, which is what cartoon characters are made out of. I thought for a moment.

He likes the Captoon cartoon, and George and Harold made that cartoon. So if I'm gonna get this guy, (I cant believe I'm about to say this) I gotta think like George and harold.

Aww hell with it!

I grabbed the thinner bottle and loaded it in a spray gun, its ridiculous, but it's my best shot. And who knows, maybe some of the robot guards took care of him already.

*THUD!!*

"OW! @%#$!!!!"

What was that?! I mean, it was obviously a cry out in pain coming from downstairs (the living room to be exact), but AFTER it sounded like a beeping sound butchered by radio static. But that didn't matter now, the fact is that this guy is in my house, I have a plan (sort of), and I'm ready for whatever is down there.

I grabbed my flashlight and slowly made my way downstairs, he could be anywhere. I turned the lights in the hallway on, no one was there though. I looked in the kitchen, as expected, the fridge was open and most of the food in there was gone, and all of the leftover guac had vanished (THAT really caused a shiver to go down my spine). When I got close to the living room, I heard a noise, or more specifically, music.

I went in the living room to find the TV playing the Captoon theme song, huh. Guess I was right about him liking that, I grabbed the remote and turned the TV off.

T h e m u s i c d i d n ' t s t o p .

Almost paralyzed with fear, I pressed the off button again, still playing, pressed it again, still going. No matter how many times I pressed it, the music kept playing. It only took me one second to realize the music was coming from behind me...along with that same feeling I had back at the abandoned school...

Oh no...

Before I could turn around, I felt something wrap around me, I looked down, I saw an arm.

Yeah, that's right, an arm was wrapping around my torso. How did I know it was an arm, at the end of it there was a gloved hand, gloved...it sorta gave me rubberhose cartoon vibes. Come to think of it, the arm was fully white like a rubberhose, I would have thought about it more I wasn't in peril.

"AAA-MMF!!!" I tried to scream, but the hand covered my mouth in an instant. The arm was fully wrapped around me now, only leaving my head uncovered.

I kicked and squirmed around trying to escape, no dice. The arm slowly turned me around, I soon realized that the arm was waaayyy longer than I previously thought. It stretched all the way to the far side of the hallway where there was nothing but darkness, nothing except...two...eyes...staring at me.

These weren't normal dot eyes, hohooohh nooo! These had the pupils and the sclera!!! And they were huge!! Who was this guy? No, scratch that. WHAT was this guy?! Forgive me for being Captain Obvious here, but there no fucking way this...thing is human!!

He was walking towards me, I squeezed my eyes shut, shit, I'm fucked. I'm going to be food, I could already see the headlines. "Class S Melvin sneedly (aka the smartest and sexiest man alive) becomes human Foie Gras to rubberhose monster". This is my end!!!

Then he (or it, I don't even know anymore) spoke.

"Shhhh, calm down."

What? Calm down?! I opened my eyes, he was still walking towards me, his eyes still the only things I could see. They looked...guilty.

"I know your scared right now." He continued

"Mmff mfm mff!!" I muffled sarcastically, it roughly translated to "NO SHIT SHERLOCK!!!", and he knew it. As he became more and more visible, I froze.

The clothes...

The body figure...

The toupee...

He was a spitting image of Benjamin, except the eyes I mentioned earlier (which now revealed that he had pie-slice pupils). And there was no color, only shades of white (his skin), grey, and black...I was filled with shock...which then shifted to seething anger.

What right does this asshole have to impersonate MY boss?! NONE!! WHAT THE FUCK!!! I kicked at him furiously while delivering muffled screeching. Who the hell does he think he is?!

"Melvin please calm down-OW!"

I bit his gloved hand, he's NOT gonna tell me what to do.

"DONT "MELVIN" ME!!" I screamed "YOU CANT JUST WALTZ IN HERE THINKING I'LL LISTEN TO YOU, ESPECIALLY AFTER WHAT HAPPENED TO THE CRIMINALS YOU VILE POMPOUS CANNIBALISTIC PRICK!!! WHO ARE YOU?! WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO EVEN BE?! WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE BENJAMIN?! AND WHATS YOU LAST MEAL REQUEST CUZ OOOOOHHH DEAR SWEET DAV PILKEY AM I GONNA REPORT YOUR ASS!!!"

He gave gave me a look that was a combination of surprise, pity, scared, and impressed.

"Gosh," I heard him mutter under his static breath "that last bit kinda rhymed..".

How is this happening, when did I become prisoner of a cartoon monstrosity. Why, how. This doesn't-...then it clicked.

"This is a dream."

"Wha?"

It's the only reasonable explanation.

"This isnt real, of course. What was I thinking."

I breathe the sigh of relief, phew.

"Why else would you look like Benjamin, it's obvious my subconscious is missing him, and the reason why your a cartoon is because I've been watching captoon too much. And why are you after me? Because it's just my subconscious being guilty of Benjamin's death, like I felt responsible, like I was supposed to be there with him when it happened. It all makes sense!!"

The behemoth rolled his eyes, but that didn't matter. What matters is that this isnt real, it's just a horrible nightmare. I dont know when I fell asleep (probably when I passed out stress-eating all those croissants at the interview), but either way I'm glad that it will be over---

"OW!!!"

I felt something sharp jab me in the arm, I looked to see his gloved hand, only a little different. The pointer finger was longer and the tip was pointy, sorta like and overgrown fingernail. Either way, it hurt, and he was still there, this wasn't a dream, it was real life.

"Real enough for ya?" All I could do was nod as I watched the finger retract and return to its proper form and shape, then I heard him sigh.

"Look, they're going to search the abandoned school so I need a place to stay-" I cut him off. "Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn't call the authorities."

"Cuz they would never believe you."

I opened my mouth to protest, but then i thought for a moment. He was right, they wouldn't. There was a saying in the book Our Lord Dav, where he quoted "people can be too smart for their own good" which ment if someone was too smart, they would become insane. The police might think just that if I tell them theres a living cartoon in my house.

"Please," I looked back up at him. Seeing his sad, pleading face. "I just need to hide hear for a bit, just a lil bit. I know I'm the last guy you wanna trust right now, especially after last night. But...*sigh*... I REALLY need your help...just let me stay."

I was speechless, I was starting to doubt that this was the same person that killed those criminals. His expression seemed so...bonafide. Pupils dilated to a sorrow filled manner, lips trembling, it felt like the equivalent of looking at a sad puppy. But...how do I know I should trust him.

"Your not gonna kill me?"

"Of course not!!!" He protested, by now the arm he had wrapped around me was retracted back to him, but I really wasn't paying attention. "I'm not a monster!!!"

Not a monster? My eyes narrowed.

He then rubbed the back of his head, chuckling nervously, "I guess I am if you define a monster as a creature that defies the laws of physics and nature, heh. But I'm talking about one that's heartless, ruthless, and selfish."

His eyes then darted away and his face suddenly became sour. His tone changed completely.

"Like the @*#%$, Theodore..."

Theres only one person I know who could sound and act like that when the subject was Ted murdsly...

I threw myself at him in an embrace, eyes filled with tears...

"You are Benjamin..."

I was both in shock and joy. I couldn't believe my boss was alive...I started sobbing.

"I miss you so much..."

I felt him hug me back.

"Heh, miss ya too Mel. It's been very lonely, even with him around, it's nice to see an old friend again..."

I started crying into his shoulder, I was so relieved. For one, I now know that I'm not gonna be dinner. Two, the others will be thrilled to hear that their favorite grumpy boss is back (especially her. If you catch my drift). But I thought for a moment...

"What do you mean by "even with him around"?"

He then lead me to a chair, "sit down, and let me tell you how I'm alive."

So he told me...and dear dav is it a doozy.

So after Benjamin died, George and harold were starting the Captoon cartoons, they had the help of dressy. But in the making of the first tape reel of season 1, dressy sprinkled some dust on it, making Captoon sentient. Then the boys took it to Benjamin's gravestone, and placed it there. Then lightning struck the tape and it started to melt, along with the world in it.

In major pain, Captoon got out of the tape and into Benjamin's corpse, sort of merging with it. Another lightning struck the same spot again. And since dead people come back to life when they get zapped with electricity in cartoons, thats exactly what happened to Benjamin.

He wakes up, they meet, he tells him how he died (turns out it wasn't an accident), and Captoon gets an idea. Since he needs a physical body to stay in (cuz otherwise he would melt and die), and Benjamin needs Captoon's cartoon physiques to stay alive, they become one. Becoming Krupptoon.

It finally made sense now.

"So now you know." Krupptoon said, then grabbed a nearby glass and drunk from it. Then he noticed my mind-blown expression.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just...alot to take in. Does that mean your dead body is still in you?"

"Uh-huh, wanna see?"

Intrigued, I nodded, after what I saw last night, this wont really effect me. Then his head began to shift, the white static-like skin seemed to dissolve. Revealing a pale, bloody, and very very dead head.

The left side (his left side) of the head had the skull smashed open showing that parts of the brain were missing, and pretty much almost all of the left side (again, his left) of the head looked like it was demolished from impact.

His eye (on his right) looked lifeless, yet it had a distinct green glow, don't know why. Oh yeah, and it smelled, it smelled repulsive.

I felt the urge to puke which he immediately took notice of and grabbed a nearby bucket, then he gave it to me.

5 minutes and 43 seconds of vomiting later... I looked at him for a closer inspection.

"Hmm, it seems only the left side is affected."

He then reached into his pocket, pulled out a magnifying glass and handed it to me. I then used it.

"Your frontal lobe is severely injured, that would explain why you only move in rubberhose, your Broca's Area seems fine. Same with the Sensory area and Parietal lobe. Your Temporal lobe looks pretty damaged..."

I went quiet...

"Whats wrong?" He said that with his decayed mouth barely moving.

It took me a while to try to get the words out.

"T-thats the lobe that contains memories. Benjamin...do you remember anything?"

His face fell, "Oh,". He then put his hand on his chin, "Well, I remember you, and George and harold. Ted (though I wish I didn't), my identity, how I died...". He then plopped down on the ground, his face returning to its cartoony appearance. Trying to recall, then his eyes lit up. "I...remember Edith..."

And boy what happened next was quite a site. His hand dropped to the side, a shade of gray crept up his face, hearts started floating around him, and I swear I could hear a romantic saxophone playing. I covered my mouth to stop myself from laughing.

"What?" He turned his attention to me, I simply pointed upwards at the hearts floating around. His eyes went wide and he made a noise that can only be defined as a startled dog and immediately started shooing them away with his arms, his face now flashing dark grey and white in embarrassment.

"I-ITS NOT LIKE THAT!!" He yelped in a panicked tone, but I knew otherwise.

"Oh suuuuure~!" I said playfully, "Its not like you visit her in the lunchroom every day,or that you give her extra credit, or that you try to make her food everyday!"

With every example I said, he got grayer and grayer. So I kept going.

"Or that you hide a bunch of gifts around her office, or that you're always happy when she's around 24/7, or that you secretly write about how much you want to be with her forever in your journal!"

"HOW DID YOU GET MY JOURNAL?!?!" He started shrieking and becoming a charcoal grey, sweating, and flustered mess. And it was hilarious! And it lasted a good 5 minutes.

"Joking aside, you REALLY don't remember anything else, like your job?"

"I have a job?" He cocked his head and gave me a confused look.

"Nevermind." I decided it was nothing to worry about now, so I quickly dismissed that subject. Then I heard him sigh again.

"The main reason I came here is for your help, your help to kill crime."

I was confused, "why would you need my help, you have the ability to do it on your own."

He gave me a classic Captoon smile, "Because it's like I said in the cartoons" he stood up and did the pose, "it's more fun to bring justice with friends!". He then pulled me up off the chair and put his gloved hands on my shoulders.

"You, me, George and harold, and the others can stop evil in its tracks! Sure, I could do it alone. But what the heck is living if you don't do it with your chums! Buds! Home slices! Homies! Pals! Bros! ETC!!!"

Honestly, I was very moved. I usually dont get touched, but...I haven't felt like I had friends, at all (I always felt so alone). And the fact that my boss (who's also Captoon himself) considers me as a good friend is enough to make me emotional.

"So Melvin Sneedly!!! Are you gonna join this crazy but exciting ride of adventure and mystery with me?!"

"Y-YES!!!" My voice cracked a bit, but that didn't matter now.

"ALRIGHTY!!! THEN WE'LL START TOMORROW!!! BECAUSE IM TIRED!!"

Man, he said that Captoon only moved their body, but THAT moment had to disagree. I sas honestly thrilled to start working with a superhero...but then the moment took a different direction when he gave me a smug look.

"Now what did you mean by you watching that Captoon cartoon too much?"

"Now wait just a minute-"

He then laughed and patted me on the back "ight, see ya tomorrow."

I headed towards upstairs to my room "goodnight."

I didn't know what I was getting into, but whatever it was, for once I'm ready for anything!!!

End of fic

Whooooo! That took a while, but it was worth it. Now with the introductions out of the way, I can finally make some memes!

#captain underpants #krupp #melvin #ITTHIGSS AU #writing #krupptoon #captoon

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ilovereadingandilovebreathing · 6 years ago

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Love in the Time of Tantrums

Human AU in which Logan and Patton are married and have fostered and/or adopted Virgil (3 then & 17 now), Remy (2 then & 14 now), and twins Roman and Remus (5 then & almost 7 now). Logan works for NASA, and Patton owns and manages a doggy day care/boarding facility.

Story: Remus is having a d a y, and he and Patton have some healing to do. (Family slice of life with paternal Hurt/Comfort; probably angst, too lol sorry)

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️: blood, classmate bullying, crying, sibling bullying, hitting, angry/tense speech, yelling/arguing, implied past abuse, mention of The Exorcist ((Please let me know if I missed anything!!))

A/N: I didn’t feel like doing the whole stutter/cry/talk thing, so use your imagination at those parts. There’s a lot. ALSO HUGE sorry if this feels OOC; I went a little wild. I saw some parenting post on Facebook and got emotional.

BEFORE READING: If you don’t know what a five star slap is: it’s when someone hits someone’s bare skin so hard that it leaves a clear five finger handprint red mark.

It’s 3:47pm on a Thursday, which means two things. 1) It’s Patton’s day off, so he’s gotten a lot done at home. 2) The peace of the house is about to be shattered by four of Patton’s five favorite people. This actually means three things if Patton’s excitement to see his children counts, but his building elation is flattened when the car doors are thrown open.

“Oh my GOD, Remus!”

The chaos erupts before Patton can even see the cause, and just as he reaches the door between the kitchen and garage, it’s flung open, nearly hitting Patton in the process. Virgil stumbles through with a whimpering Roman curled in his arms.

“Oh, sh-sorry, Dad.” Virgil stops abruptly, and Roman turns in his brother’s arms, reaching blindly for his father as tears pour from his eyes.

“Oooh, baby.” Patton coos as he takes Roman into his arms. “What’s wrong, my Little Prince?”

“Remus.” Remy trudges in, dragging a violently wriggling Remus in his arms. “We tried to stop him, but nothing we do scares him!” Remy suddenly releases his brother, and the six-year-old falls to the floor giggling maniacally. “You nasty little son of a-“

“Remy.”

“Dad! He licked me!!”

“Remus, what have we said about licking your brothers?”

“Do it all the time! It keeps them clean!” The twin darts back and forth behind his older brothers’ legs, dodging an unseen enemy.

“No, Re...The opposite, actually.” Roman trembles in Patton’s arms as he tries to rein in his cries, and Patton hugs him tightly. “So who’s going to fill me in on how Re made Ro cry?”

Virgil sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Looks like Remus learned a new trick at school today and tried it out on Roman. Multiple. Times.”

“It’s called a five star slap!” Remus announces proudly, squirming out from behind his brothers to pose in front of his father. “You wind up real good like this, and then-”

“Remus. Enough.”

Remus flinches but quiets, still bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Virgil, please get Roman some ice for his back and take him upstairs. I need to talk to Remus alone.”

“Yeah, Dad.” Virgil quietly retrieves a baggy and fills it with ice; he smiles softly as he opens his arms and coaxes Roman toward him. The younger brother whines when Patton’s grip loosens, clinging to his father’s shirt with tears threatening to spill again. “Come on, Ro. We can watch whatever movie you want in the bonus room, okay? Dad needs to talk to Remus. Please?”

Roman sniffs but reluctantly relents, instantly hugging his brother around his neck as they turn and head to the second floor. Roman waves good bye to his father with a sad frown before they disappear up the stairs.

“Remus.” Patton’s voice is ice; his normally soft eyes are hard as stone as he gestures with his pointer finger. “Come here. Now.”

Remy attempts to grab his brother by the arm and drag him over, but Patton puts his hand up and knocks him back with a glare.

“Just Remus. On his own.”

Remus shuffles forward inch by inch with a dark scowl on his tiny features, all traces of the energy from before channeled to frustration.

Some of the kids on the playground tell Remus that he’s a freak for having two dads, and others think he’s lucky. Remus disagrees with both, believing that two dads just means two different types of punishment. To Remus, Papa Logan is more reasonable; he says Remus needs to let his “natural exuberance” and “niche interests” out to maintain his mental health, though sometimes even Papa gets frustrated with him. Daddy Patton is the one who silences and punishes him for being himself but praises and supports Roman for being himself. Parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, but Roman clearly ranks above Remus with Patton, and that makes him livid.

So when he finally reaches Patton, Remus stops just inches away from him in an over exaggerated show of obedience; he looks up and straight into Patton’s eyes, his own set to a spine chilling glare paired with his signature wicked grin. “What?!” The little one suddenly yells out in a manic half laugh half cry.

“Why did you hurt your brother, Remus?” Patton’s tone is firm and level.

“He hurt me first!”

“Oh my GOD; he did not, Remus!”

Patton looks up sharply. “Rem, you wanna go get the mail and help Papa bring his stuff in? I just heard his car door.”

“Not really.”

“Remy, please go.” Patton’s tone takes on a slightly sweet lilt, and Remy sighs before turning to retrace his path through the garage, clearly disappointed that he didn’t get to see his brother get punished.

“Hi, Pop.” Remy calls, giving a single wave. “Dad is about to chew Remus out.”

“What?” Logan’s tired voice filters into the kitchen, and Patton sighs.

“I’m not going to ‘chew your brother out,’ Remy.”

“You really are.”

“Rem.”

“Sorry.”

“Help your Dad.”

“Too late.” Logan enters the kitchen with a laptop bag on one arm, the mail in one hand, and his lunchbox in the other. “I grabbed it as I drove in.”

Remy scoots in behind Logan. “Sorry, Popsquared.” He shrugs and sidesteps past the trio. “I’ll go....Do my homework?”

“Great idea.” Logan smiles stiffly and nods his son up the stairs; he exhales as sets his bags on the bench by the garage door, hanging his keys. “Hello, Dear, Remus. We’ve had quite a day, haven’t we?”

Patton sighs and rubs his eyes. “Father’s intuition?”

“Virgil’s cell phone.”

“Remus hit his brother, and I’m handling it. Why don’t you rest, Love?”

Logan eyes the pair warily, looking ready to protest, but he thinks better of it and nods. “I’ll be in our room if you need me.” The couple exchanges a brief kiss as Logan passes by, and he throws back a quick glance as he goes up the stairs.

“Finally.” Patton breathes, figuring Remus has had plenty of time to stew, simmer, and cool down with the interruptions. “Now that we have some privacy-”

“Just get it over with!”

Patton’s breath hitches a bit, and he looks down to find Remus with the same wide eyes and grin as before, staring at him intently. “Get what over with?”

“My punishment! Just ground me or spank me or make me go without dinner! Just get it over with! Do it! I know you want to!” Remus throws his arms to his sides and stomps, gaze still transfixed on Patton.

“Remus, why are you saying that? Papa and I never hit you or keep food from you.”

“That’s what the other kids said bad kids like me get for punishments!” Remus is still yelling, his body taking on a slight tremble. “They said I deserve to be so skinny you can see my bones! They said I should sit in the corner for hours without a potty break! They said-“

“Whoa, whoa, kiddo.” Patton tries to put a hand on his son’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off. “Who is saying all that mean stuff to you?”

“Kids on the playground. No one you know. It doesn’t matter because it’s not your business!”

“Why isn’t it my business?”

“Because you hate me! You love Roman and Remy and Virgil, but not me! You don’t care about me, and I don’t care about you, so you don’t get to know!”

“Why do you think I hate and don’t care about you?”

“Because you only yell at me and not Roman when something bad happens! When Roman takes my stuff, you just tell him to give it back, but when I take his stuff, you get mad at me and take mine away!”

“That’s because-“ Patton clamps his mouth shut on his retort when Remus’s eyes fill with tears; Patton realizes that his little one is reaching an overload, and he knows that means Remus is not open to discussion right now. He just needs to keep asking questions and let Remus air out his frustrations. Patton lowers his voice so that the boy has to listen, keeping his tone even while adding a soothing overtone. “Do I do that a lot?”

“Not that much...but it feels like it because it’s always me who gets in the most trouble!”

“How does that make you feel?”

“It makes me mad!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not fair!”

“How else do you feel?”

“Angry!”

“What about sad?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“.....I don’t know.” Remus’s lower lip trembles, and his hands are in fists at his sides.

“You don’t know? If you don’t care about me, why does it make you sad? You have to care to be sad.”

“I don’t know! But I don’t care! Because....because I’m not sad right now! I’m...angry!” Tears slip out of the corners of Remus’s eyes, and he rubs at them roughly, making himself whimper with the force.

Patton notices how dark his son’s fingernails are for the first time, and his breath catches in his throat. He takes Remus’s hand. “Is that blood?”

“Maybe.”

“Where’d it come from?”

“No where.” Remus rips his hand from Patton’s and crosses his arms, staring stubbornly at Patton’s shirt now.

“Did you hit someone, Remus?”

“No!”

“Did someone hit you?”

Remus goes stiff, staring straight ahead before he stomps his feet and shrieks, “No! Of course not why would someone hit me I’m not weak like Roman no one can hurt me! Even if that mean ugly teacher doesn’t believe it!” Remus grits his teeth, his little face scrunching up as though in pain. His whole body trembles as he suddenly erupts into loud, whining cries.

“Oh, no...Come here, Remus.” Patton drops to sit on the floor a few feet from Remus, opening his arms for a hug but giving him the choice.

Remus turns away and hugs himself tightly, sobbing into the open air.

Patton lets his arms fall into his lap, but he subtly scoots a bit closer to the crying boy.

“Remus, please talk to me. Who hurt you?”

“No one! I hurt myself!”

“Why did you hurt yourself?” Patton tries to keep the alarm out of his voice.

“I didn’t do it on purpose! I ran into a tree and made my nose bleed!”

“Why did you run into a tree?” Patton scoots closer.

“Some boys were throwing a frisbee and I tried to catch it but it went too high and I didn’t see the tree and I hit it and they all laughed at me and called me a weirdo! They said I’m so stupid I couldn’t see a tree right in front of me! It hurt and I was scared but the playground eacher just said to wipe my nose and stop bothering other people I don’t know!”

Patton’s heart shatters, and he scoots closer again. “Did you tell your teacher?”

“Yeah but she said I was fine and didn’t need to go to the nurse! She said I was being dram-dramo-“

“Dramatic?”

“Yeah! And after school I was waiting for Virgil and one of the boys did the five star on my back and it hurt really bad but he ran away when I told the teacher and she didn’t believe me because he was gone!”

Patton scoots closer, and Remus is within arm’s reach. “So the boys were mean to you a lot, and you needed help, but the teachers didn’t listen? They didn’t help you, and that made you sad?”

“Yeah! They never listen!”

Patton scoots forward one last time, closing the distance between himself and his son. He whispers near Remus’s ear. “Why did you hit your brother, Remus?”

“I don’t know!” Remus wails. “I was mad and I just wanted to!”

“Because the boy hit you and the teacher didn’t care? It made you mad and sad that no one cared about what happened to you? And Roman wasn’t sad or mad, so you hit Roman?”

“Yeah!”

“I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?” Patton reaches forward and scoops Remus into his arms before he can escape or refuse, pulling the boy to his chest. Remus thrashes wildly in Patton’s hold, eyes wide and cries like a wild animal trapped in a cage. “Remus, Remus, Remus.” Patton pulls him closer. “Remus, I’m just hugging you; you’re not in trou-“ Patton groans after Remus’s head flies back and connects with his nose. “Ouch-“

Remus freezes and looks up, eyes wide and horrified when he sees the tiny trail of blood start to trickle from Patton’s nose. Patton grabs the dish towel hanging from the nearby stove before Remus can process what he’s done.

“D-Daddy?”

“Remus-“

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry!” Remus is crying and thrashing again, trying to escape Patton’s hold, but Patton tents his legs on either side of the boy and holds on as tight as he can with an arm and an elbow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Shhh shh shh, Remus.” Patton inhales deeply to stave off his own breakdown, too harshly reminded that Remus still has so far to run from his life before this family. “I’m just hugging you; it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m safe. You’re okay. You’re safe, Remus.” Patton mutters the words over and over as he tries to hold Remus close, subtly trying to keep his nose clean. “Please, Remus, just let me hold you. Let me hug you to help you feel better. I’m not mad at you. You’re not in trouble. You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re not going to get hurt.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me?” Remus has stopped resisting and is staring up at Patton.

Patton takes a deep breath and silently curses the twins’ first (and second-to-last) foster home. “No, baby. I won’t hurt you, and I won’t let those boys or those teachers hurt you again. I will come to your school tomorrow morning and talk to the principal and those teachers, okay? They won’t be mean to you anymore.”

“But you have work tomorrow.”

“That’s okay. I can go late.”

“Why?”

“Because I own the place!” Patton laughs a bit.

“No, why are you coming?”

“Oh, Remus, because I love you, baby. I love you so much, and I don’t want you to get hurt again. That would make me cry.” Patton’s eyes fill with the pressure of this whole dam of emotions building within him, and he gives Remus a wet smile. “I don’t hate you, Remus. I love you so, so much. Just as much as Virgil, and Roman, and Remy, and I’m so sorry I don’t tell you that enough. I’ll do it a lot more. I promise. I love you. I love you. I love you.” Patton accentuates each “I love you” with a kiss to Remus’s head, and the child only pulls back the first time.

Remus sits back against Patton’s thigh and stares at his father, as if searching for something, some “gotcha,” some trick or hint of betrayal in his father’s eyes, but he finds none.

Patton runs a hand over Remus’s hair and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “I promise. I love you forever and ever, my little sunshine.”

Something in Remus finally clicks into place, an understanding dawning on his face, and he slowly relaxes in Patton’s hold, letting himself be embraced. Patton pulls Remus toward him with no resistance, and the boy sobs openly into his father’s chest, the pain and relief mixing together in an overwhelming maelstrom in his little chest that he can’t fully understand or articulate. He just sits limply in Patton’s arms and cries himself out, crying every tear he refused to let his classmates or his teachers or his brothers see him cry.

“It’s okay, baby. Cry all you need to. You’re gonna be okay. Daddy and Papa and Virgil and Remy and Roman will keep you safe. We love you so, so much.” Patton rocks him slightly and rubs Remus’s back, periodically pressing kisses to his hair.

Patton keeps uttering reassurances as he carefully scoots backward and grabs a napkin from the holder on the kitchen table; he sets down the dishcloth and carefully stuffs the napkin into his nose with one hand as he keeps holding on to Remus with the other, the boy having calmed down to watch the whole process. “See? It’s okay. Daddy’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”

Remus shudders as he breathes, his little body still trembling with emotion as he stares up at Patton, eyes wide and wet and cheeks flushed.

Patton leans over and looks Remus in the eyes. “You okay?” Patton asks quietly, placing a quick peck on Remus’s nose that makes the boy go cross-eyed.

The little one considers for a moment. “N-no.” Remus stutters out, gripping on to Patton’s polo like a lifeline.

“That’s okay. Thank you for being honest with me. What do you want to do now?”

Remus shrugs mutely, unusual for the boy, but...most of this scenario is new for Remus. Honesty and vulnerability are something they’re still working on with the twins, particularly Remus, just one of a handful of carry overs from their first foster home.

Patton taps his chin thoughtfully. “We can...go find Roman and say we’re sorry?”

Remus wrinkles his nose at that; his eyes water again.

“Mmm maybe too soon. We can...go help Remy with his homework?”

Remus quirks a brow at him, perplexed. “I can’t do 9th grade homework.”

“Mmm me either. I’m too old. We can...go see Papa in Daddy and Papa’s room? Papa can hug you, too, if you want.”

Remus considers for a moment, and then he nods.

“Okay, let’s go.” Patton helps push Remus up and then stands himself, moving to go up the stairs when a little hand pulls on the back of his shirt; Remus is staring at him shyly from beneath his bangs. “What’s up?”

“Can you carry me?”

“Carry you?” Patton smiles and turns, bending to Remus’s eye level. “You’ve never wanted me to carry you before.”

“But you carry Roman all the time.”

“Because he asks to be carried all the time.” Patton laughs and holds out his arms. “I never said I wouldn’t carry you, buddy; I’m just a little surprised.” Remus immediately wraps his arms around his father’s neck, and Patton presses a kiss to his head as he straightens, adjusting his hold to this unfamiliar body.

Remus mumbles something as they move toward the stairs.

“What’s that, bud?”

“You never called me ‘buddy’ or ‘bud’ or ‘baby’ or any of those names, either, like you do with Virgil and Roman and Remy.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to. I called you ‘baby’ once, and you got mad and said you weren’t a baby.”

“Because I’m not!....But you’re not really calling me a baby, right?”

“Right, I’m saying you’re my baby. That I want to love you and protect you and carry you.”

“Oh. That’s okay, then, I guess.”

“I’m glad, but don’t be afraid to tell me when you don’t like something, okay? Remember how we talked about being honest a little while ago?

“Yeah.”

“I want you to be honest with me.” Patton pushes open the door to his bedroom, revealing Logan lounging on their bed with a book on his lap. “And you were very honest today, and I’m very proud of you for that. You did a good job of telling me how you were sad and mad and angry.” Patton sits on the bed and looks to Logan with tears brimming, his husband returning a loving if not confused gaze. “You can always tell me and Papa about however you feel, okay?”

“Yes, Remus.” Remus looks over at Logan shyly, seeming to realize his emotional state for the first time. “You can always tell Daddy or me. We love you, Little Nova.” Logan sets aside his book, and Remus takes the invitation, wiggling out of Patton’s hold to sit on his Papa’s lap.

A tear spills over, and Patton quickly swipes it away. Logan meets his gaze, sympathy burning in his eyes, and he opens his arm for Patton to settle in with them. Remus settles easily against Logan’s chest, instantly limp and calm in Logan’s steady presence, and Patton feels a sharp pang in his heart knowing now that he had missed out on growing with his son, that Remus felt so rejected by him. He breathes deeply, trying to stave off a breakdown, and Logan rubs his arm soothingly which only makes him want to cry more.

“I love you, Remus.” Patton whispers.

“I know, Daddy. You said that already.” Remus whispers back, his voice light and airy as exhaustion takes hold of him.

Patton settles back just as their door quietly swings inward. Remy stands in the doorway with Roman in his arms, Virgil lurking quietly in the hall behind them.

“Roman wanted to see you. And Papa.”

The aforementioned boy rubs at his swollen eyes, and Patton’s heart aches. If only he could comfort all of his babies when and how and where they needed to be. Patton sits up and pats the empty space on their bed, gesturing for all of their boys to join in the family cuddle pile. Remy hands Roman over to Patton, and the boy snuggles into his father’s hold, resting his head on Patton’s shoulder as Patton runs a hand up and down his son’s spine. Remy stretches and settles himself at the foot of the bed, his head resting in a crooked elbow as he feigns casualty, but his gaze constantly shifts between his Dad, Papa, and younger brothers.

“Rem, it’s okay, baby.” Patton’s brow creases at the moisture in Remy’s eyes, but that’s a conversation for later, without the prying eyes and ears of his brothers. “Take off the thinking cap for now. Virge,” Patton smiles gently at his oldest son, sulking in the doorway and clearly exhausted from playing baby wrangler after a full day of school. “Touch or no touch?”

“...Some is okay.” Virgil pushes off of the doorframe and crosses to Patton’s side of the bed; Patton sits up with Roman and crosses his legs, and Virgil curls up with his head resting near Patton’s knee. Patton runs a hand through his hair, keeping Roman close with the other.

“Look at us. Like a sitcom family. We’re basically the Brady Bunch,” Remy quips, discreetly slipping on his signature sunglasses.

Patton would definitely talk to him later.

“Something like that.” Virgil sighs and closes his eyes, just letting himself breathe and trying to slow his pounding heart.

“I love it. I love this.” Patton smiles at each of his boys in turn. “I love each and every one of you.” Patton catches Remus’s half-lidded backward glance and gives him a smile and a wink. Seeming satisfied, Remus settles back against Logan, discreetly eyeing Roman in Patton’s arms.

“Hey, so not to ruin the moment.” Remy speaks up from his spot. “But why do you have a napkin stuck up your nose, Dad?”

“I was wondering the same thing.” Virgil pipes up.

“I was, too.” Logan mumbles from his chin’s resting place atop Remus’s head.

“What happened, Daddy?” Roman whispers against his neck, eyes fluttering closed as Patton rubs small circles between his shoulder blades.

“Daddy got a nasty bloody nose.” Remus declares with a yawn, traces of his typical self slowly returning. “There was blood just gushing everywhere.”

Three pairs of eyes turn to meet him incredulously, begging him to continue the story where Remus left off, but Patton just laughs quietly.

“....It’s a long story for another time.” Patton shrugs, meeting each curious gaze in turn. “It was worth it, though.” He meets Remus’s last, holding on for a few moments to let his words sink in. “I had to lose a little blood for a little healing to start, but I’m gonna be okay. We are gonna be okay.”

“Dramatic, but okay. Nosebleeds suck.” Remy cuts in, and Virgil pushes a weak kick in his direction. “And speaking of, no bullshitting, how did you get it?”

“Language, young man!” Remus lectures with a comically lowered voice, wagging a weak finger in his older brother’s general direction before turning onto his side and snuggling into his father for a pre-dinner nap.

“I’m following Remus’s lead.” Patton chuckles softly and carefully lays back with Roman, adjusting both of them before closing his eyes. A couple of snorts sound off when Virgil lets out an indignant grunt at having lost Patton’s hand in his hair, but Patton smiles when he feels his oldest shift and rest his head on his father’s thigh. “All of my heart in one bed.” Patton murmurs with a contented sigh.

“I sure hope so, otherwise you’d die.”

“Remus.” Three sighs and one breathy laugh usher the room into silence as the family relishes in a rare moment of peace, squabbles quietly forgiven and tensions quietly forgotten as they relax and heal together.

For the time being.

20 minutes later, Remus hears the mail truck approach and hurls himself off of the bed, nearly tripping as he runs down the stairs to show the mail carrier his impression of Reagan in The Exorcist. (No one knows how he found out about it; they all hate horror movies. Except for Remus, of course.)

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #thomas sanders fic #thomas sanders fanfic #remus #remus sanders #mine #tsfanfics #logicality #adoptionau

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destielstuffandthings · 5 years ago

Text

Fire And Feathers

Summary: Castiel is a clumsy witch with a famous bloodline who never seems to get a spell right. Dean is an unattached familiar who stumbles his way through life seeking a purpose.

Pairing: Castiel Novak/Dean Winchester

Characters: Dean Winchester (young and present age), Castiel Novak (young and present age), Sam Winchester (witch), Gabriel (witch), Charlie Bradbury (familiar)

Tags: @cateyes315 @omrj007 @halevetica @dmsilvisart @bluebell-24 @justa-crayon @didntwanderstillgotlost @daisyannewinchester @lillycopen548 @apieceofurmind

Psssttt...want another chapter today? Ok cool, here ya go.

If you want to be tagged in this let me know! Also, I eat comments like cookies and they fuel me fingers for writing.

“I think I’m gonna go,” Gabriel hooked a thumb towards the door. “I’ve been away from Lucy for longer than usual, and not to compare situations here, but--” he rubbed his shoulder with a frown.

“It’s fine brother. I have it from here.” Castiel walked over and hugged his brother tight. “Thank you for everything,” he whispered.

“Yeah yeah, you softy. Send word if you need anything? Anything. Understand?” He winked and looked over his brothers shoulder. “And you, hawk.” Dean popped his head up and raised an eyebrow. “Play nice. My brother might not be able to whip up a Regeucio Intimie, but I sure as hell can.” He patted his brother on the shoulder and swept the moss out of the way before walking out of the hut.

Castiel turned to Dean, anxiously wringing his hands. They were alone for the first time. Electricity sparked in the air as Castiel looked into Deans eyes. Dean stared back expectantly.

Castiel shook his head and said the first thing that came to mind. “I uh--I have no idea what that,” he waved a hand towards the door, “spell is.” He let out a heavy breath as he walked over to the makeshift kitchen and pulled a jar from the cupboard. He fidgeted with the top, his hand shaking as he tried to pull the lid off.

Dean cleared his throat and watched the witch visibly shake. “It’s a banishing spell,” he offered. “Basically, the witch sends the offender to another dimension. Do you need help with that?” he asked, pointing at the jar.

Castiel shook his head quickly. “No I’m fine, thank you,” he lied. He set the jar down and turned to face Dean. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he confessed. “I’ve never---I haven’t even fostered a familiar before. I truly don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Dean face softened as he watched the witch’s forehead crease. “Um, well, the first thing my witches---not mine, obviously, you know---” he cleared his throat loudly. “We usually sit down, have a meal together and get to know each other before any casting happens. Kinda breaks the ice.”

Castiel huffed a laugh and ran a hand down his face. “I can’t cook.”

“I can,” Dean offered instantly, inwardly kicking his familiar for jumping to help the witch. “I mean, uh, I can make something, y’know, simple. I cook for Sam and Charlie all the time.”

Castiel raised his head and looked at Dean. “You’d be comfortable doing that?”

Dean shrugged. “Not a big deal. Plus I haven’t eaten more than a few bites of jerky in a day and a half. I’m starving.” He looked at Castiel and watched a his lip curl into a small smile. “Where’s your pantry?”

Castiel led Dean through a small woven curtain into a carved out hole in the back of the hut. There were shelves dug into the walls and a small rug laying in the back.

“This is my root cellar. Fruits and vegetables are on the shelves with herbs and spices used for cooking. There’s meat and cheese in there.” Castiel kicked the rug out of the way to reveal a hole filled with white pouches tied with string.

“I can work with this,” Dean said smiling. “Why don’t you go start the fire and I’ll see what I can come up with?”

Castiel nodded, mentally taking note that food made Dean seem very happy, and brushed past the curtain. He gathered firewood and tossed them into the fireplace before swinging a large black pot over the stack. He looked down at his hands and contemplated for a moment.

“I wonder,” he whispered. Kneeling down, he held his hands out, palms down to the wood and closed his eyes. Orange and red swirled behind his eyelids as his hands began to tingle. He gasped, falling back on his heels when he heard the wood crack and pop as the flames worked their way up towards the pot. He stood quickly and turned around to see Dean standing there with his arms full of food.

“I uh,” he held up the packages, “hope you don’t mind. I’m really hungry.” He walked around Castiel and sat on a small stool. “I could feel that,” he murmured as he pulled the string off a package.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said immediately. “I didn’t---I just wondered---”

“It’s alright,” Dean smiled faintly. He unwrapped the chunk of meat and tossed the paper into the fire. He turned the meat over in his hand and picking at a piece of fat.

“Do you need a knife? I can---”

“Nope,” Dean smiled earnestly this time. He held up his pointer finger and flicked it to the side. Castiel gasped when a long brown talon emerged where a fingernail used to be. “Don’t worry, it’s clean.” Dean chuckled to himself as he started carving up the meat.

“How did you do that?” Castiel asked, walking over and kneeling down to get a better look.

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. Kinda always been able to do stuff like that.” He tossed a few pieces of meat into the pot. “I can make feathers sprout, the claw thing, and I have really fucking good eyesight.” He finished cutting up the meat and threw it into the pot before peeling open another package. “You got anything like that?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. I think it’s been established that I am, in fact, a ‘shit witch’.”

Dean laughed at the mocking tone the witch used as he sliced a thin piece of cheese off and popped it into his mouth. “Yeah, well, that’ll change now I guess.” He frowned around his talon as he licked it clean. He looked up and sighed, eyeing the three now sleeping heads. “What’s the deal with those?” he asked, gesturing with his chin.

Castiel turned and smiled up at the heads. “That’s Flox, Pital, and Badler. I accidentally cursed them when I was twelve.” The witch shook his head and raised an eyebrow. “Gabriel said it was be irresponsible to pawn them off on someone else, so they’ve been with me ever since. They’re a handful but you’ll learn to love them.” He smiled and turned back to Dean who was staring at the witch with an unreadable expression. “I mean, what I meant to say was--”

“Cas you can calm down,” Dean chuckled.”Ok, yeah it took some time getting used to this,” he gestured between them, “I mean, I’m still getting used to it obviously, but you don’t have to tiptoe around.” Castiel nodded and stared at the fire. “So, cursed, huh? What were you trying to do?”

Castiel licked his lips and smiled. Dean watched as the witch’s tongue wet his lower lip before sharply turning his head towards the pot.

“Believe it or not, I was trying to grow their bodies back.” Castiel looked up at Dean through his lashes. “I found them at the market and felt so bad for them. They were just hanging there, dried out and sad. So I bought them and took them home. I must’ve added too much willow bark because after I added it to my cauldron and--poof. Literally,” he laughed.

“So you like brewing?” Dean asked as he sprinkled rosemary into the pot.

“I suppose I like the idea of it? The only ones that ever turn out alright are my healing potions. Anything else and it’s just a huge pot of slime.”

“Except for the one you made me,” Dean murmured, glancing over at the witch.

“Yes. Well, those were under different circumstances.” He looked up at Dean and for a moment they held each others gaze.

The fire popped loudly, making the men jump. Dean chuckled and turned his attention back to stirring the pot. “Our brothers seem to think you were able to make it because I was here, not to mention I was feeling sick.” He tapped the spoon on the side of the pot and laid it down, his eyebrows pulling together. “How did you know I was afraid of flying?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Castiel shifted his feet out from under himself and sat cross legged on the dirt. “Well, you were falling. I caught you and then,” he ran his hands nervously over his thighs, “I could just feel it. Your thoughts were racing and I could feel your anxiety. It stopped when you were closer to the ground. It completely stopped---”

“When you brought me here,” Dean finished. He nodded and tapped his fingers on his knee. “Yeah, you know I can kind of almost remember that? I remember feeling safe. And I remember tasting something bitter, but after that I just---” he sighed and stood up, looking into the pot. “I just felt like everything was going to be ok. Bowls?”

Castiel blinked as the familiars words registered. “Oh, yes.” He stood quickly and went to the cupboard. He pulled out two bowls and grabbed a hard loaf of bread on the way back to Dean.

Dean piled their bowls full and carried them over to the couch, placing one in front of the witch. “Your brother seems like a piece of work,” he said before taking a bite.

Castiel chuckled and tore a chunk off the end of the bread and handed it to Dean. “Funny. Sam said the same about you.” He dipped his bread into his bowl and took a bite as he watched Dean smile.

“Yeah well he isn’t easy to get along with sometimes, either. Been that way since he was a little kid.”

“You two seem very close,” Castiel hedged.

Dean nodded. “I raised him,” he said around a mouthful.

Castiel let his bread drop into his bowl. “Your parents---”

“Died when I was eleven,” he muttered.

“I’m very sorry, Dean. I didn’t know,” Castiel whispered.

Dean shrugged. “That’s why we’re talking, isn’t it? Getting to know each other.”

“Would you tell me more about them?” the witch asked as he pushed the bread around in his bowl.

“Not that great of a story. Dad was a witch, mom was his familiar. He pushed her too hard and she got sick.” He looked at Castiel with a piercing expression. “The kind of sick you don’t recover from when your witch uses up your power and leaves you to die. Alone.” Dean stood quickly and walked over to the sink, dumping his bowl into it roughly.

Castiel stood on shaky legs and watched Dean’s shoulder hunch. “Dean I’d never---”

“Yeah, that’s what dad said, too.” He sighed and rubbed his jaw. “Said he’d never hurt her, never leave. He did both. Left me and Sammy to fend for ourselves because he couldn’t take what he did to her.” He turned around and crossed his arms as he rested against the large wooden log counter.

The witches heart sunk and Dean must have felt it because his eyes shot up. “Don’t do that,” he pointed a sharp finger in Castiel’s direction. “Don’t feel bad for me. I don’t need your pity,” he spat.

“I don’t pity you, Dean.” He walked forward until he was a few feet away from his familiar. “Of course I feel sorrow for your mother, I cannot fathom a witch being so selfish. I’m just sorry you had to go through it alone. You were so young, it couldn’t have been easy raising your brother.”

Dean scoffed and looked anywhere but at Castiel. “You know, it wasn’t even all that bad. We had each other for a long time and we were alright. I taught him how to hunt and fish. Hell we even moved out of dad’s old place and built our own home.” He frowned and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Then why do you feel so upset?” Castiel asked.

Dean’s eyes flicked to the witch then down at his feet. “It was Charlie.”

Castiel cocked his head. “I thought you two---”

“Yeah, of course we’re friends,” he waved a hand in the air. “I love her like a sister. But the day Sam met her I knew. I knew I was going to be alone after that. I came to terms with that. I’d rather be alone than all used up and dead somewhere.”

The witch’s reached his hand out and gently laid it on Dean’s arm that was hugging his stomach tight. “You don’t have to go through life alone anymore, Dean.”

Dean stared down at the witch’s hand and bit the inside of his cheek. A feeling of comfort spread throughout his chest before he shrugged it off. He watched as Castiel removed his hand and frowned.

“You cooked, I’ll clean up,” the witch said quietly before turning to his half eaten dinner. “It was delicious, by the way. Thank you.”

Dean scuffed his foot into the dirt. “Yeah, no problem. I think---I’m gonna go stretch my wings if that’s alright.”

Castiel turned to Dean with his eyebrows pulled together. “You never have to ask my permission Dean. I just ask that you stay relatively close to the hut. Being too far apart right now isn’t--”

“Yeah, I got it.” Dean shoved off the counter and headed towards the door. He peeled off his shirt and hung it on a nearby twig sticking out from the wall. He pushed past the curtain and sighed into the cool night air. He looked up into the sky and watched a flock of birds pass overhead. The thought made his stomach ache a little.

What are you doing? he thought to himself. He peeked back through the moss and watched as Castiel slowly moved through the hut, picking up stray pieces of string and packaging.

Running a hand roughly through his hair, he groaned and walked back into the hut.

“So,” he rested his hands on his hips. Castiel turned quickly to Dean with a confused expression. “I told you about my parents. Time to hear about yours.”

#dean winchester #Sam Winchester #gabriel #witch!castiel #witch!sam #witch!gabriel #familiar!dean #familiar!charlie #hawk!Dean #cat!charlie #spells gone wrong #spells #failing powers #growing powers #pining #angst #strangers to friends to lovers #my writing

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brokemultidotexe · 6 years ago

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Second Chances Pt.7 | JJK

↬ Pairing: idol!jungkook x reader

↬ Summary: Even though it scared you, you knew you couldn’t walk away again. Big Hit allowed you to go on tour with the boys but with the promise to keep your relationship with the boys hidden from the public eye. The saying “good things never last” rings true as rumors of a secret romance makes its way online and suddenly the boys lives are put under a microscope and threats start pouring in. Jungkook does everything in his power to make sure you’ll stay, but what happens when the one thing you feared most comes true? [sequel to Unexpected]

↬ Word Count: 3.4k

↬ Warning/Rating: None/T

↬ Genre: Romance/Friendship

↬ Part: Trailer | Prologue [1 / 2] | 1 | 1.5 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

You sat on the bed snuggled into JK’s side with your good shoulder. He had decided to choose a scary movie which normally you didn’t mind but every time there was a jump scare your shoulder throbbed with pain. Part of you wasn’t even paying attention to the movie’s story line, you were too busy trying to figure out when to tell him about your shoulder. You felt a little better after talking with Namjoon but it still didn’t keep the anxiety at bay. You enjoyed seeing JK so carefree and now he was going to worry every time you went through the airport which was inevitable.

You felt JK’s hand go to the side of your head and tilt it towards him to drop a quick kiss on the side of it. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face over the loving gesture. Having spent time apart he was much less reserved in his affections towards you. He now had a habit of randomly leaning in to kiss you while you were talking only to pull back way too soon to apologize and say he just wanted to make sure you were really there with him and he hadn’t finally lost his mind. It made your heart race and butterflies erupt in your stomach, but also a nagging feeling at the back of your mind that you had caused him so much pain when you were only trying to protect the both of you.

JK squeezed your shoulder in affection unknowingly causing pain to radiate down your arm. You sucked in a quick breath and held it making him drop his hold on you and lean back with a concerned look on his face, “What? What happened? What did I do? Are you okay?” his questions firing off so quickly you were barely able to distinguish each question separately.

You breathed out through your nose and did your best to pull yourself together and squash his worries, “I’m fine.” You gave you best convincing smile.

You sat up straight and tried to test your arm slightly but you couldn’t fight the wince on your face which JK saw all too clearly. You could tell he was clearly worried and you knew now was the time to tell him because there was no way out of it. “Why are you lying?” his voice was quiet causing you to turn your head and look at him.

Sighing you turned your whole body towards him subconsciously cradling your arm against your stomach knowing that you couldn’t text Namjoon to help you out right now, the conversation had already started with his last statement. You bit your lip not really knowing where to start, “So at the airport,” he sat up straighter at your words and you continued knowing you had his full attention, “I was walking in the back with the other staff and some of the fans were trying to crowd around you guys. I tried my best to keep them back because other than us there was no one behind you guys to keep the fans from trying to get to you. So umm…there were some overzealous fans that tried to push through so I put my arm out to block them—“

He cut you off, “That’s not your job Y/N, plus, we have people for that.”

“I know, but the crowd was so big and I was worried about you.” You looked down at your hands.

You felt his fingers on your chin tilting your head up so you could see him, “You don’t need to worry about me in those types of situations, okay?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes even though you tried. You felt ashamed that you had let yourself get injured after he expressed just how worried he was about you right before you walked out into the airport. “Is that all that happened?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You bit your lip and let your eyes connect with his knowing you couldn’t lie about it. You shook your head, “No. When I had my arm out keeping everyone back a fan grabbed it and tried to jerk me away so she could break through and get to you guys. I was able to keep her from getting through but she kept trying to make me lose my footing. She even tried to pull me into the crowd that had swarmed you guys. Her grip on me had tightened so much that her nails literally dug into my arm I couldn’t pull it free. Sejin appeared beside me and in order to break her hold on me he had to bring his arm down pretty hard between my arm and her grip. Once my arm was out of her grip Sejin put himself between me and the fans and made sure that I got into van okay.” You had subconsciously rubbed at your forearm where her fingernails had dug into you. “But what ended up happening was when she tried to jerk me into the crowd I felt a pop and felt pain shoot down my arm and when Sejin had to bring his arm down to separate us it ended up causing even more pain.”

JK’s ears were red despite trying to keep a calm demeanor you knew he was mad, “Sejin sent the physical therapist to my room as soon as I got here. He told me I injured my rotatory cuff and that I need to wear a brace for a while.” JK opened his mouth but you held your hand up already knowing what he was going to ask, “He doesn’t have a brace specifically for this so he’s going to go to the store tomorrow and pick one up. Basically, I just need to rest it so I don’t injure it anymore.”

You could see the gears turning in his head, “I really don’t want you to worry about me in the airports though, okay? I already talked with Namjoon. I know I made mistakes this time and I’m the reason I got hurt, but I promise it won’t happen again.” You chewed your bottom lip waiting for him to say something as he processed everything you just said.

He gently grabbed your wrist and you flinched expecting to feel pain in your shoulder but none came. He gently pushed the sleeve from the hoodie you were wearing up to your elbow. It was the first time you’d seen the blossoming bruise on your forearm and crescent moon indention’s from the fans nails. You couldn’t stop your eyes from looking straight to JK after seeing it. You could see him clenching his jaw before pulling the sleeve back down gently and covering it up. “So Namjoon hyung and Sejin hyung knew about this before I did? Why would you keep it from me this long? You should have told me as soon as you saw me Y/N, actually Sejin or the staff should have told me. If not them then at least Namjoon hyung!” he was extremely frustrated and you could understand why.

You looked down and your hand subconsciously went to rest over where the bruise was on your arm like it was a badge of shame, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry. I know how you get and I don’t want you to be distracted during this tour and risk getting injured. I want you to enjoy it and not worry about me.”

He scoffed at your statement, “Don’t worry about you? I worry about you all the time Y/N. You have no idea how often you take over my thoughts and all the things I think about. I worry that something might happen and you’ll get hurt,” He pointed to your arm, “that being a prime example as to why. I worry about you regretting your decision to come with us and going back home. I worry about whether you’ve eaten for the day or slept enough. I worry about so many things Y/N because I love you and I want you to be happy and healthy, which is the most important thing to me.”

“JK—“

He cut you off before you could say anything, “You always worry about hurting me but you realize you hurt me when you keep things from me, right? You did it Korea and you’re doing it now.”

The guilt and shame still weighed so heavily that tears threatened to spill over and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. His hands cup your cheeks and lift your face to look at him. He sighed sadly and wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs, “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just want you to understand that not telling me something like this hurts me. So please stop trying to protect me. It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around.”

You nodded and he leaned down and dropped a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away. He looked you over one more time before sighing and pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on the top of your head. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again. So get used to having a clingy boyfriend for the rest of your life.” The last five words caused a blush to instantly spread onto your cheeks and you buried your face into his chest.

After he had comforted you enough to where you pulled away feeling a lot better. He kissed your forehead and told you to wait there while he disappeared into the bathroom. You could help but fidget as you waited and you didn’t have to wait long because JK walked out of the bathroom holding a towel that was no longer folded. He waved you over and you got up from the bed and crossed the room to where he was standing.

“Turn around,” he spun his pointer finger in a circle to and waited for you to follow his directions. A towel appeared in your vision and hung out in front of you, level with your belly button, “Put your arm in it and I’ll tie it so you have some sort of a sling, even if it’s not that stylish.” You put your arm in the towel and JK gently maneuvered the towel and your arm so he could tie the towel and try to make it as comfortable as possible. You felt a significant amount of relief now that your arm wasn’t having to use its muscles to keep your arm still and hold it against you.

JK had a huge smile on his face and exuded a sense of accomplishment since he was able to take care of you and lessen your pain, even if it was minimal, “Feel better?”

You nodded enthusiastically and smiled, “Definitely. Should I start calling you Doctor Jeon now?”

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, “Normally I only heal broken hearts but I guess I got lucky this time,” he looked at you with such adoration in his eyes, “Should I start taking part in the lottery? My luck keeps increasing.”

You looked at him incredibly confused as to what he was talking about. He smiled and answered your silent question, “I got you back and was able to take some of your pain away. Also, you’re standing right here in front of me and you’re real. I would consider that one hell of a lucky streak.”

Your felt your face heat up at his comments and tilted your head down causing your hair to fall like a curtain so he couldn’t see the effect he had on you. His romantic side had begun to show more and more as time went on, “Who’s been teaching you these lines?”

“No one. I had a lot of time to think during our time apart and I had a lot of regrets on things I didn’t do or say.” He put his finger under your chin and tilted your head up so he could look at you. “Like telling you I love you every day. It was something I thought about so many times and I regretted not telling you every day from the very moment I felt it.” He leaned down and stopped when his lips ghosted over yours and stopped to hover over them and whisper, “That I didn’t take every opportunity I had to kiss you so I would never forget the feeling of your lips or how you tasted. So I could replay the sounds you make over and over again in my head.” He closed the small space that was left between you and slid both hands to the side of your face and cupping your cheeks with his long fingers sliding into your hair and his thumbs brushing against your very flushed cheeks.

You melted into the kiss as soon as his lips touched yours and a sound of content escaped you. He was very careful not to come in contact with your shoulder and you could feel that his muscles were tense while he devoured every inch of your lips. He pulled away leaving you breathless and his breath ragged. You took a step back and opened your eyes to see JK squeezing his eyes tightly for some reason and when you said his name he didn’t respond. You stepped forward again and used your good arm to loop your arm around his neck and slide your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck hoping it would help him relax with whatever he was dealing with.

“Hey, look at me.” When his eyes met yours the intensity of his stare surprised you. Your throat felt tight as you swallowed, “what’s wrong?” you could barely hear your voice and cursed yourself for how much a single look from him could affect you.

JK shook his head and began taking calming breaths which only confused you more. You cleared your throat quietly to assure your voice would be steady, “JK, talk to me babe. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” when he still didn’t answer your brows furrowed, “Are you mad about my shoulder? I’m so sorry I—”. He put his hand on your lower back and pulled your entire body against his making sure you were pressed against his hips.

His eyes fluttered closed and what sounded like a moan came from his chest. You gasped when you finally understood what was going on. Your grip in his hair tightened when the evidence was pressed against your core. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, “That.” His raspy voice answered between his ragged breaths.

You wanted to say something but every time you tried words wouldn’t come out and you’d just end up biting your lip with so many thoughts running through your mind and a bright blush dusting your cheeks. You were pretty sure that JK could feel just how fast and hard your heart was beating at his confession. He tilted his head forward until it was resting against yours with his eyes closed, “you have no idea what you do to me Y/N.” He sighed and pulled himself back making your arm slide from the back of his neck and stop at his chest.

“Dead puppies. Dead puppies. Dead puppies.” You heard him whispering to himself while looking up at the ceiling.

You couldn’t fight the silent giggle that bubbled up in your throat while he tried to calm himself down. While he wasn’t paying attention you took that moment to let your eyes fall to the current problem he was facing and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as visions of possibilities began to play in your mind.

With your heart racing and a sudden burst of courage you stepped forward and grabbed his shirt and pulled his lips to yours causing him to stumble into you but he easily caught his footing with his hands gripping your hips tightly to make sure you wouldn’t fall. He pulled away and looked down at you, “What are you doing?” his husky voice and intense stare caused a shiver down your spine and you didn’t miss the slight tick his eyebrow made as he watched your reaction.

“I thought I was pretty clear Jungkook.” You tilted your head to the side a little in a silent taunt, letting his full name hang in the air.

The growl in his chest shocked you as his hands instantly threaded into your hair at the back of your head and crashed his lips on yours. He didn’t leave a single millimeter of your lips untouched but stopped every few seconds to speak, “Always. Pushing. My. Limits.” Despite the aggressive nature of his mouth he was still very cautious of your arm. His free hand landed on your hip and gripped it tightly as if he thought you would disappear if he let go.

Without warning he grabbed both hips and lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around him as he backed up to the bed and sat down and helped you tuck your legs on either side of him. His hands slid up your thighs to your hips to pull you closer to him by your belt loops so you were pressed right up against his erection. You nipped his bottom lip and tugged at his shirt before pulling back, “off.” Was all you said and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“You’re lucky you’re injured right now, otherwise this scenario would be very different.” He leaned back some and pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside his eyes never leaving yours. The fact he was shirtless in front of you and was staring at you like he would love nothing more than to devour you caused another shiver to run down your body.

Enjoying the affect he had on you he sported a cocky smirk that made you want to wipe it off his face and prove to him that he was just as affected as you were. You put your free hand against his chest and pushed him down roughly catching him off guard as you continued to sit straight up looking down at him. He tried to sit up but you placed your hand on his chest and ground your hips into him for only a second making him to fall back to the bed with a hiss and a vice grip on your hips. It was your turn to smile at him unable to move from such a short burst of pleasure.

“I swear to god once your better I won’t play by the rules and you’ll be falling apart by my hands.” He said through clenched teeth when you did it for a second time.

A loud knock on the door caused your head to whip around to look and felt relief that no one had welcomed themselves inside like they had in the past. You started to get off him but he pulled you back down and shook his head telling you to ignore whoever it was. You really didn’t want to risk someone like Sejin walking in and seeing you straddling a shirtless JK.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to risk it.”

Once you were off he slammed his fists against the bed, “AISH!” he yelled out. You could tell he was extremely frustrated with the situation. The both of you glanced down to his ever growing issue and you couldn’t help but giggle. “You answer it. I’m going to…” he ground out, “I’m going to have to perform a miracle.” He groaned and went into the bathroom and closed the door.

You straightened your clothes and opened the door to see Namjoon standing there, “Hey did you still need me to be here?”

Before you could answer JK opened the bathroom door with half his body hanging out, and an incredulous look, “What?!”

AN: No you’re not seeing things, I actually updated so soon after posting Pt.6. I hope you enjoy this fluff filled chapter and enjoy the break from angst lol. Unfortunately, i do come bearing bad news…My original plan was to take this semester off from school and do things i enjoy like writing. Well, my job had different ideas and I am currently having to study for a very had certification test and for the next two months will be swamped, but if i can squeeze in a chapter or two I will do my absolute best. I hope you guys understand because I’ve been getting a lot of messages about Second Chances and what not so i will do my best to try and keep up with it.

here is a tag list form if you want to be added in the tag list, hopefully this will help to make sure it doesn’t get lost in the sea that is the tumblr dashboard.

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weepylucifer · 6 years ago

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the witch honestly didn’t know what it was exactly they expected when they drew this summoning circle and did the whole ritual, but this was... well, there was a lot here.

first off, they had only half expected anything to happen at all. they were not the most experienced witch, in fact, they had only recently started taking it up as a sort of hobby. then, they had expected maybe... some huge monster to appear in the circle. a big red scary man with horns? that was a bit of a cliché, but the person who had manifested here in the witch’s bedroom looked, well, mostly human. the horns were there, a slim and gently curled affair atop the head of a sort of man the witch would have expected to find running a lightly pretentious modern art exhibit. he was pretty, in a carefully manicured way. in fact, he looked a lot like one would picture a classic angel, but even a beginner like this witch could tell that something was very much off.

“go on then,” the visitor said with an encouraging wave of a pristine hand. that, said in a surprisingly melodious voice, and a slight hint of a smile on the apparition’s byronic features put the witch just the tiniest bit more at ease.

“um, you’re the devil?” they asked. “i mean, you’re lucifer?”

“expected a big red scary man, have you?” the devil sighed.

the witch shrugged. they didn’t put much stock in expectations.

“first time summoning?” the devil asked, his voice a bit kinder. he sat down cross-legged in the summoning circle, bringing them close enough to face level. the witch appreciated not being talked down to.

“yeah.” they heaved a breath of relief. “i didn’t really think this would even work.”

“well.” the devil picked at his fingernails. “me and mine are usually summoned for some purpose or other. what did you have in mind?”

the witch hesitated, blinking a lone bead of sweat out of their eye. now, actually face to face with the devil, their request sounded asinine. they could have done, oh, about a thousand things to get what they needed that fell short of summoning satan.

but they had ambitions. they wanted the best. they had to have the best.

“what’s it going to be?” lucifer prompted. “money? power? health? ...revenge?”

the witch forced themself to meet the devil’s eyes. “knowledge.”

lucifer smiled. “those deals are my favorite. proceed.”

“well, um.” the witch twisted their hands in their lap. “you know how people are like... that is to say, i don’t know how much you know about the state of things right now, like, in the world.”

“i keep in touch.”

“so you’d agree that things are looking pretty grim out here.”

lucifer nodded. “you haven’t summoned me to improve it, have you? that’s not my jurisdiction, unfortunately. i’m not a genie. i’m a guy with a very specific job to do.”

“no, yeah, i get that,” the witch said, willing themself not to stutter. “the thing is, me and some of my friends, we want to get into, like, changing things. and, but, we want to do this as effectively as possible and we don’t quite know where or how to start.”

“where are you going with this?” asked the devil, indicating through his tone of voice that while he was always interested in what any and all followers of his were up to, he didn’t have all day, thank you very much.

“well, people keep saying you were like, the first rebel and stuff. like you invented activism as a concept. so i thought--”

“people are saying that?” the devil ran a hand through his immaculate hair, evidently pleased.

“some people are saying that, i guess,” the witch amended. “i just want... i want to learn from the best. the original. things feel pretty hopeless out here, and sometimes it seems like nothing’s ever gonna change, no matter what us normal people try to do. so i thought i’d get some pointers from the guy who tried to pick a fight with god himself. um... is that something you could do?”

lucifer twirled a strand of hair around his index finger. slowly, his face broke into a grin. “i’d be delighted to,” he said.

#just an idea out here #lucifer #The Activist #posts by me

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kagehinataboke · 6 years ago

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i don’t really have a prompt in mind but i have this really specific idea for a tdbk high school au where Bakugou is the captain of the basketball team and Todoroki is the captain of the volleyball team and they always get into huge fights and yeah i would just die to see this au if you feel like writing it, ty sm uwu, love your writing ❤️

okay so i’ve been working on this for a while, so sorry for the late response dear!! it sounds like a fantastic idea uwu

i also got really carried away tbh haha, it’s just such a cute au~ i might eventually make it a whole story bc it’s just so dang adorable! ;u; hope you like it anon <33

***

“What do you mean we can’t use the court?” Bakugou slams his hands down on Principal Nezu’s desk hard enough to knock over an innocent cup of pencils. “I’ve had it booked since last week! Who the hell took it?!”

“Language, Katsuki,” Nezu scolds, calmly fixing the cup. “Shouto made a very compelling argument, so the board and I decided to—“

“Dammit, that bastard?” Bakugou sits down hard, knocking over the pencils again. “He can’t keep stealing the court! My team needs to practice, too. What did he tell you this time, huh? Is he spreading rumors about me again?”

“He’s never spread rumors about you,” Nezu sighs, setting the pencil cup on the windowsill to save it from further assault. “Katsuki, it’s simple: his team has more funding and more support from the school board. There’s nothing I can do—“

“Bullshit.” Bakugou stands up to storm out, ripping a volleyball poster off the open door on his way. “Dammit, I’ll deal with it myself. Thanks for nothing.”

Todoroki Shouto is the most annoying, aggravating, horrible person Bakugou has ever met. That asshole constantly steals the court that the basketball team needs, sabotages their attempts to gain new members—and, most importantly, he’s got the support of the entire student council and faculty. Being the captain of the basketball team means nothing when Bakugou is terrible at making social connections.

“Bro, did you ask about the court?” Kirishima appears from thin air, Kaminari and Sero on his heels. “What’d Nezu say?”

“It’s that fucker again,” Bakugou growls, storming into the gym with enough ferocity to scare first-year volleyball members out of the way. “Dammit, Todoroki!” he yells across the gym at the irritating bastard who’s preparing for a serve. “You’re fucking dead!”

“Wait, you can’t just kill him!” Kirishima quickly grabs Bakugou by the arms, saving Todoroki’s shitty fucking pretty boy face in the nick of time.

“Ah, I see you found out about the gym.” Todoroki hands his ball to the vice-captain, Iida, and crosses his arms. “Did you come to fight me for it?”

Bakugou struggles against Kirishima’s grip, but it only gets him an inch closer to Todoroki’s irritatingly calm, unflinching face. “You must think this is a real fucking riot, huh, interfering with everything my team does?! This isn’t over, you fucking Half bastard!”

“You say that every time,” Todoroki calls after him as Kirishima and the others drag him away. “See you later, I guess.”

“Fuck you!”

***

“You’re the worst,” Bakugou says vehemently between impatient kisses down Todoroki’s pale throat. “You’re the worst fucking person I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Yes, I know.” Todoroki’s fingernails dig into his shoulders, spreading pinpricks of heat down his back. Bakugou wants to take a picture of his ruined expression and frame it. “Hey“—the bastard’s gasping now—“don’t leave marks.”

“Shut up.” Bakugou bites his collarbone spitefully, igniting Todoroki’s yelp. “You piss me the hell off. Give me back my court and I’ll consider being less rough.” He accentuates the threat with another bite. Fuck Todoroki Shouto and his dumbass ‘no marks’ bullshit. As if Bakugou would listen to him when he’s pissed off—or, fuck, even when he isn’t.

“Blackmailing me won’t work,” Todoroki replies with the same irritatingly docile expression. “I like it rou—“ He gasps when Bakugou kisses him harshly on the mouth. He was just about to say he likes it rough, this motherfucker.

Yes, Bakugou despises Todoroki more than anyone else in the world—but that may be the exact reason he likes seeing him defenseless and at his complete mercy so damn much. Hate-fucking him in a janitor’s closet has become a perpetual, reluctant, and mostly accidental habit that he tries to refrain from… but never can.

After they’re finished, Bakugou always feels like something is left unresolved, and no amount of cursing or regret will fix it. The two-tone bastard Todoroki doesn’t seem to share his thoughts, though. “Hey… You should come to my game tomorrow.”

“What, you mean the one that you stole my gym time to practice for?” Bakugou scoffs while pulling on his wrinkled jersey. “How about fuck you?”

“You do a good enough job of that on your own,” Todoroki replies evenly, slipping on his red practice jacket and zipping it up to his neck to hide the dark blemishes there. “You left hickeys all over me again, so it’s really the least you could do.”

“Just because I sometimes fuck you in closets doesn’t make us friends, or anything close to it,” Bakugou reminds, slinging his practice duffel over his shoulder and flipping off Icy Hot on his way out. “I still don’t fucking like you. Bye.”

“It’s at three o’clock!” Todoroki calls after him before the door closes, pissing Bakugou off even more. He won’t do this ever again, he swears—and he definitely won’t go to that stupid fucking game, either.

***

“You’re going to the volleyball game?” Kirishima is so surprised that he misses his free-throw, and the rogue basketball hits Kaminari in the head. “But… why?”

“Oi, proper passes asshole!” Bakugou yells at a first-year before answering, “I thought about it, and it’s a good chance for revenge. That dick Todoroki is always stealing members and support from us, so it’s time to get back at him.”

Kaminari pauses mid-dribble to raise an eyebrow disbelievingly. “That’s the only reason? You sure?”

“What exactly are you implying, huh?” Bakugou elbows him on his way to center court. “What other reason could there be? I’m just going to fuck with him.”

“But do you really even hate Todoroki, though?” Kaminari asks with a frown. “I mean, you guys are like… Ugh, you know when two people both like and hate each other at the same time? You’re, like, uh… Help me out here, Kirishima.”

“Frenemies?”

“Frenemies! You guys are like frenemies. I mean, you wouldn’t be so bothered by that guy if you didn’t like him at least a little.”

“Fuck you,” Bakugou scoffs, smacking the basketball out of his hand. “I’m going for sabotage reasons: that’s it.”

“Me too!” Sero calls suddenly from across the gym, elbowing a first-year in the chest when he throws his hand up. After apologizing and passing his ball to Shinsou, he trips over to them. “I wanna come, too. Uh, you know, to help with the espionage.”

Kaminari rolls his eyes. “You guys have fun, then. I’m not going.”

“Nobody fucking asked you to.” Bakugou takes a position at the three-point line. “I only told you two so you’d keep an eye on practice for me.” He takes a shot and it sails straight into the basket. “Just make sure nobody dies—and for fuck’s sake, get these shitty first-years to improve their damn passes!”

“Aren’t you worried Principal Nezu will be mad if you’re there?” Kirishima interjects. “He knows you hate Todoroki’s guts. He’ll definitely suspect something.”

“He won’t suspect shit.” Bakugou pulls the sweatband off his wrist and tosses it to Kaminari with a smirk. “Just wait and see: I’ll pay that pretty boy over ten-fucking-fold.”

“Pretty boy?” Kirishima echoes.

“Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou makes another three-pointer, but he can’t focus on his game when the memory of Todoroki’s stupid face is haunting him. Sometimes he can’t get the look of that bastard out of his head—of Todoroki’s parted lips and splayed hips; of Bakugou’s own hands on that delicate porcelain skin.

Shit, he already wants to break his promise and fuck him again. If he goes to the game and sees Todoroki playing, he might just have to. Sweaty skin, a neckline low enough to show off the marks Bakugou left, and those tight, tight shorts— Oh fuck, he’s totally done for.

Shit, Bakugou’s riled up now. He passes his ball to Kirishima with an irritated scoff. “Fucking take this. I’ll be right back.”

“What? Wait, where are you—“

Bakugou slams through the gym doors before he can finish his sentence, punching a locker hard enough to dent it. “Calm down,” he orders himself. His body is basically flipping him off, though. “I hate him. I hate him.” He has to say it twice to make it sound believable. Lately, Bakugou has been struggling to put a name to his feelings. Hate is there, but it’s not the only thing he feels anymore. Why did he become closer to Todoroki in the first place? How can he possess him one second and let him go the next? It doesn’t make any sense if he takes time to think about it.

“Fuck.” Bakugou punches the locker again. Pain is one thing he has no trouble feeling. “Fuck,” he says again, resting his head against the dented metal.

Maybe he shouldn’t go. If he sees Todoroki at the game, he’ll… Well, he honestly doesn’t know what he’ll do. Hit him? Maybe. Kiss him? Probably. Fuck him again? Almost definitely.

***

The amount of people that show up to a volleyball game is… depressing. Bakugou has never seen a crowd of more than eighty people at a basketball game, but there’s well over a hundred here. He’s scowling as he sits down in a seat where that bastard Todoroki won’t see him. What is it about volleyball? Basketball is way fucking harder. Sure, Bakugou’s never seen a volleyball game before, but their practices look easy as hell. Dammit, he’s forgetting why he came here: there’s a job to do.

“Sero, did you remember to bring it?” Bakugou whispers, keeping his eyes trained on the court. The Half bastard hasn’t shown up yet. “Sero? Sero— For fuck’s sake, what are you doing?”

Sero jumps, quickly ripping his gaze away from the face of the volleyball tram’s vice-captain. “Oh, uh… sorry. I brought it.” He digs in his bag to retrieve a package of marbles. “Isn’t this plan too childish, though? And some people could get seriously hurt.”

“It’s just fucking marbles. Don’t be a pussy.” Bakugou snatches the package from him and rips it open. “As soon as the game hits the second set, you trip me and spill these all over the court. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Sero agrees reluctantly, eyeing Iida again. It’s no secret he’s got a thing for him. “…I got it.”

“Good. Stay on your toes and…” Bakugou’s mouth goes completely dry when Todoroki steps onto the court. It’s hard to explain, but there’s something… different about the way he looks right now. His eyes are filled with such unnerving intensity that it makes Bakugou shiver. He could be thinking about his classes or the hickeys that are just visible above the collar of his uniform, but his mind seems laser-focused on the game ahead.

Fuck, he’s beautiful. Who the fuck gave him the right to be this hot? Bakugou silently drinks up the sight of him running, jumping, blocking—everything that makes his heart slam suicidally against his chest cavity. Point after point; Todoroki’s team scores again and again, easily taking the first set. Bakugou doesn’t even remember what he’s supposed to be doing until Sero’s shoulder roughly smacks into his arm.

He falls forward, throwing out his hands to right himself. As he does, the marble package slips from his hands, cascading over the heads of the row in front of them to tumble across the gym floor. The world stops, time crawling to a painful halt. Todoroki had been mid-jump, about to serve. The marbles have spread across the court, and he lands on one almost immediately. The chaos is more broad-spread than expected: both teams are down.

Everyone is too busy panicking to look for the source of the incident, but Todoroki’s gaze pierces straight through the crowd. Bakugou makes direct eye contact with him before vaulting the bleacher railing and disappearing into the hall. He fucked up. Or, no, he succeeded. He wanted to cause destruction, and he most definitely did. But, then… why does he feel so shitty?

He embarrassed Todoroki. Wasn’t that his goal from the start? He has no reason to be filled with… What is this feeling, anyway? Guilt? No fucking way. Bakugou refuses to even think about feeling guilty. But staring at the locker he punched, the sensation builds and builds until it’s unbearable. It was an accident. Even if he was planning it, it was still an accident. But fuck, he shouldn’t have to justify it at all. What the hell—

A fist catches him in the jaw “What the fuck—“ Bakugou gasps when hands seize him by the collar, slamming him against the dented locker. It’s hard to believe what he’s seeing. “What… Todoroki?”

Bakugou has never seen Todoroki angry before, and he wishes he didn’t have to see it now. His stormy eyes are full of raw, unbridled rage. He’s quite clearly pissed off. The emotion is even clearer in his voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The question is so cold and serious that it’s impossible to give a joking response. “I… didn’t mean to.”

“You’re lying.” Todoroki’s fists clench against Bakugou’s shirt. “I invited you because I thought things could change, but they can’t, can they?” The anger drains from his eyes as quickly as it appeared, grip slackening on Bakugou’s collar. “You must… really hate me, huh?”

The words feel like bullets. Why does it hurt so much to hear them? Bakugou does hate him. He hates looking at him and hearing his voice and being powerless against his charm. But he can’t stop coming back for more and more of Todoroki Shouto, like he’s a drug. A drug with too many damn side-effects. Doubt, insecurity, fear, and something else… Something deeper that’s too hard to think about.

“So it’s true?” Todoroki shakes his head and releases him when Bakugou doesn’t say anything. “I guess this is it, then. I’m done being the object of your amusement. This isn’t a game.” He backs a few steps away, but the distance feels like miles.

If he keeps going, there won’t be a problem: Bakugou can probably go on believing he despises him. But the Half bastard always has to ruin everything, so he stops and looks over his shoulder. “For what it’s worth… I never once hated you.”

Dammit. Why did it have to be this way? It would be so much easier if Todoroki hated him. They could keep being at odds with each other, fighting over who gets to use the gym, bickering with Nezu about club funding. In the end, though, that’s impossible. Bakugou knows deep down what he wanted from the start—what he still wants now. He can’t make complete sense of his emotions, but… maybe he doesn’t have to.

“Todoroki.” Bakugou is surprised by the rawness of his voice. He’s supposed to be walking away, not closer. “Don’t.”

Don’t… what? Don’t go, don’t stay? He’s even confusing himself. But there’s no going back now: Todoroki has turned to face him again, lips parted in a yet-to-be-voiced question. Bakugou doesn’t let him speak, taking him by the wrist. Where his fingers touch Todoroki’s soft skin, he can feel a rapid-fire pulse. It skyrockets even more when they kiss.

Todoroki loses his balance, gripping fistfuls of Bakugou’s shirt when he slams him against the dented locker. A noise of protest rumbles from the back of his throat when Bakugou’s tongue slips into his mouth, but he could care less. His head is screaming. This stupidly annoying, beautiful bastard is all he wants right now. Fuck, is this what he’s been waiting for? For this shot of clarity?

He doesn’t hate Todoroki Shouto at all. He never did. No, in fact, he just might be madly in love with him.

With a gasp, Todoroki finally manages to separate their mouths. “What the… hell do you… think you’re doing?”

He’s so out of breath that he can barely speak. Doesn’t this dumbass know to breathe through his nose? It pisses Bakugou off even more. “You god damn idiot.” He presses Todoroki’s back harder against the locker. “‘This isn’t a game’? I never saw this as a fucking game, asshole. You started shit with me, and I wanted to finish it.”

Todoroki grabs his wrist, eyes aflame again. “I’m not the one who picks fights with you. I admit that I don’t treat you properly, but I never start things directly. You’re the one who’s always hanging around, threatening me.” He scoffs softly. “It’s because you hate me, isn’t that right? You despise me.”

“Motherfucker…” Bakugou slams his fist against the wall to keep from punching Todoroki’s stupid fucking pretty face. “Are you stupid? I’ve never once said I hate you, Half n’ Half. Not fucking once.”

“You’re going to tell me you don’t? After everything you’ve done?” Todoroki pushes his head away from the wall, eyes steely. “Why would I ever believe you?”

Fuck. Does Bakugou have to say it? To say it will mean admitting it to himself first. Can he do that? Can he throw away years of resentment so easily? Then again, maybe that resentment has been disappearing for a while. When was the last time he thought about Todoroki with disgust? Or, rather… has he ever?

“I don’t hate you,” Bakugou mutters eventually. All the strength rushes out of him, and he drops his head against Todoroki’s shoulder. “I don’t hate you at all. I think I actually… Fuck. I think I actually like you a lot.”

It’s been a long time since Bakugou’s told the truth like this. Todoroki’s eyes convey his shock at the pure honesty in the words, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond. People are filing out of the gym, their loud voices carrying down the hallway—including Todoroki’s teammates.

“Fuck,” Bakugou mutters, backing up down the hall. “I’ll… see you later.”

Todoroki starts to protest, but Bakugou has already turned to run.

***

Bakugou isn’t sure how far or for how long he’s walked, but he should’ve been home twenty minutes ago. Ha… Not like it matters. What the fuck has he gone and done? He confessed to Todoroki, even though his feelings are a total mess. God, he’s so fucking dead. Why the fuck would he go and say such stupid shit?

“Ugh… Fuck me.” Bakugou collapses on a park bench, tearing his hands through his hair. “Dammit. Fucking idiot. What the hell is wrong with you, Katsuki? Oh my god, I can never show my face at school again. I’ll move to fucking Osaka and start bartending or some shit. Fuck. I wanna die…”

“Bakugou?”

For a moment, he thinks he must be imagining things. Why, at the peak of his misery, would Todoroki appear to worsen things? The universe can’t possibly be that cruel. Oh, but of course it can. Todoroki Shouto is standing in front of him, wearing casual clothes and a streetlight halo. Fuck. He’s as stupidly beautiful as ever. The universe really is an asshole, isn’t it?

“How did you find me?” is all Bakugou can manage to say. He hasn’t been yelling, but his voice is raw.

“I live near here. I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.” Todoroki’s eyes glow in the soft fluorescent lamplight when he takes a step closer. “Are you… okay?”

“You shouldn’t be asking me that, asshole.” Bakugou lowers his head, too embarrassed to look him in the face. They’ve been in far more intimate situations, yet this somehow feels like the most exposing of all. “Just go back home. I’m not ready to talk yet.”

Of course, Todoroki never listens to him. He sits down, close enough for their shoulders to touch. “Did you mean what you said back there?”

“I’m not a fucking liar,” Bakugou grumbles irritably. “I meant it, even if I don’t fully understand it. I like you.” He lets out a breath. What a tremendous weight that’s been lifted… “Fuck. I like you so fucking much, it hurts.”

For the first time since they met, Bakugou lets himself look at Todoroki without a hint of anger. The other emotions that take its place are immediately overwhelming, and Bakugou can’t stop himself from reaching out to brush a fingertip across Todoroki’s soft bottom lip. It’s different from the way he’s touched him before, always full of mindless lust and spite. This is a gentle ache; one that starts in his chest and gradually moves through his whole body like a wildfire.

Todoroki’s breath catches quietly, which is more than enough to send Bakugou into cardiac arrest. He wants him. He wants all of him right now, but in a much different way than before. Rather than doing it to hurt him, Bakugou wants Todoroki Shouto to willingly belong to him. He wants to touch him so gently that he forgets everything else in the world.

“Can I…” Bakugou starts, voice deep and raspy with unchecked desire. His composure is steadily dissolving. Fuck, he wants to melt into him like ice cream on hot pavement.

Thank god, Todoroki wants it as much as he does. He’s barely finished nodding before Bakugou’s tongue is in his mouth, fingers sliding under his sweatshirt. Fuck, his skin is soft. His saliva tastes like fucking peppermint. Was kissing him always this good? Bakugou’s thirst for him is utterly insatiable. Shit. Hate-fucking is nothing compared to whatever this is.

“Wait,” Todoroki gasps when Bakugou’s hand slips up his inner leg. “Not here, Bakugou—“

“First name,” Bakugou interrupts gruffly, gripping Todoroki’s thigh tighter to shut him up. He’s been waiting for this for a long time, he realizes. Fuck, it’s too good. “If you like me, use my first name.”

Todoroki doesn’t even hesitate. “Katsuki,” he whispers in an absolutely disastrous way. “Katsuki, I like you, too. I like you.”

Fuck, those damn words… He’s definitely trying to destroy him. But even so, it feels too amazing to care. Wreck me, Bakugou wants to say. Bite me. Break me. Bloody me. Tear me up completely.

To be destroyed by Todoroki Shouto might be all he’s ever wanted.

#i'm sobbing this is so good wth #bless anon #this is beautiful #ugh #;-;#todobaku #tdbk #answered asks #my writing #bnha

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huangels · 7 years ago

Text

how badly did you lose that bet? - taeyong

request: can I have taeyong fluff please uwu💕 ily! have a wonderful day!

a/n: honestly idk if this is even fluffy but fudjbfd i hope it’s ok,, the plot was totally different in my head but as i was writing it, i guess it just went down a different path huh

summary: Due to losing a bet, Taeyong has to get his nails painted. But it’s not too bad when you turn out to be the person painting his nails, which prompts him to visit you more in hopes of asking you out.

genre: fluff?

warnings: none

word count: 2.1k

"Y/N, Taeyong is here for you," your co-worker calls into the back room, causing you to roll out of your spot on the old leather couch. You stuff your phone into the front pocket of your black apron and toss the empty bag of potato chips into the trash bin next to the exit. As you enter the nail salon from the break room, a young man with lush faded pink hair sits in his usual seat, which is at your manicure desk near the front of the shop.

"Hey, Tae," you greet the latter as you take your seat opposite of him. As per usual, Taeyong sports his signature winged eyeliner and smokey brown eyeshadow look paired with a glossy red lip. He is a regular at the nail salon you work at now, always requesting you for a manicure.

Taeyong first entered the small town nail salon a couple weeks ago. During that time, Taeyong's hair was a more deeper pink and he was a lot less confident. You had just finished painting the nails of a customer, showing her to the drying machine. The entrance door rang, signaling another customer. You quickly ran behind the front counter since everyone else was busy with nail painting.

"Good afternoon, welcome. How may I help you today?" you asked and meet the face of the pink-haired customer. You were slightly shocked that the person was a male since not many males visit this nail salon. Behind the man stood a small group of guys, presumably his friends, all with different unnaturally dyed hair colors. The friends were pushing the man to the front desk, while the latter tried his best to escape their trap. One of the guys, with dark blue hair, mumbles something to the person trying to escape. You only caught on to a couple words, 'bet' and 'pretty.' With one last shove, the man appeared in front of you with an awkwardly distraught smile.

"How may I help you?" you repeat, trying not to laugh from the scene that just unfolded in front of you.

It seemed like the stench of nail polish and acetone had finally hit him as he cringed while trying to place an order, "Uh... A - manicure... Please."

"Okay, do you have an appointment with someone?" you questioned, registering the order into the computer behind the counter. A small smile spread across your face from the hilarious and uncomfortable faces the latter was pulled from the strong scent, though it appeared as if there was something else bothering him as well. The pink-haired man shook his head 'no' a moment later, trying to process what I meant. His group of friends lit up with a roar of whispers and chuckles from behind.

"Okay, that's fine. We'll just place you with someone that's not busy," you click a few buttons to purchase the manicure for the man and he slides his credit card into the slot.

"Follow me," you instructed and handed him the receipt. His friends sent him thumbs ups and kissy faces but you didn't pay a mind to them to witness it. Past the curtains that separated the waiting area from the nail stations, you look around the shop to see if anyone is open for a customer. But each manicure location was seated with another except your own.

You pointed to an empty seat to your left, telling him to sit down and pick a color, and then slide into the seat in front of him. As you pulled out the necessary items and tools you need, you could sense the confusion from the latter.

"Are you looking for any specific color?" You take the keychain of fake nails painted with different tones from him and help flip through the selections.

"C-can I just get - uh black?" the pink-haired man studders. You had already predicted that he'd prefer some dark color like black or red. It matched his aesthetic, even though his hair was the opposite. The clothes he wore was all black, black ripped jeans and a black graphic tee of some old 80s band. His ears are lined with silver dangly earrings. Even the simple black choker around his neck screamed a dark aesthetic. So it wasn't surprising that he chose black for his nails.

You held the man's right hand, coating each of his short fingernails with a quick base coat before doing the first layer of the glossy jet black polish. You could feel that he was trying to keep as still as possible, which only made him shake even more and therefore, making it difficult for you to stay inbetween the lines. To keep his hand steady, you gave it a light squeeze in your hand. The pink-hair man's face burned up from the short action, turning bright red. Your mouth formed a slight smirk but you kept your head down.

"So how badly did you lose that bet?" you teased, grin growing larger with every shade of red his face reaches. He stammered, causing his hands to stiff. You laughed at his reaction and caught how red he tips of his ears were.

"What did your friends bet you to do anyway?" you continued since the customer couldn't form a straight sentence.

"Well... They thought it would be funny to teepee the house of my boss - but I didn't go through with it..."

"Heh chicken."

"I'm trying not to get fired here."

You chuckled and moved on to the second coat of black nail polish, "So I guess getting your nails painted is your punishment?"

"Yeah... Ugh, this is so embarrassing."

With a raise of an eyebrow, you paused to look up at the latter, "What's wrong with painting your nails?"

This caused the man to bolt up with embarrassment once again, his face somehow got redder. He rapidly waved his hands back and forth with panic, "Th-that's not what I meant! It's just my friends- I mean my friends are embarrassing!"

"Woah there, I was just teasing you," you replied, grabbing his hand again so that he didn't mess up the wet polish.

Finishing the final layer of top coat, you helped the pink-haired man up from his seat and over to the drying stations. You instructed him to simply stick his hands under the UV light for five to ten minutes before it dried. The man looked hesitant to hold his hands under the neon purple lights, mumbling that he'd get skin cancer or something along those lines. You returned to your station with a smile to clean up for the next customer. As you put away all of the polishes and tools into the draw of your desk, you felt a light tap on your shoulder. You turned to find the pink-hair man standing behind your chair with a shy smile.

"I'm - I think it's all dry. What do I do now?" he asked innocently, poking each of his nails gingerly with his pointer finger.

"Oh good, they look great! And you're all done so enjoy your day!"

"That's... it?"

"Would you like a pedicure too? Or do your friends also want to match with you?" you joked and moved to stand up, leading the man to the exit. His previous group of friends seemed to have abandoned him since the waiting room was clear of wild-haired men.

"Oh, by the way... Earlier you said that people can make appointments with someone they want?" the guy questioned by the door.

You nod in response, "Mhm, why?"

"Ah - my sister? Yeah for my sister," he sputtered, rubbing his hands together, "What's your name? - To, you know, tell my sister."

"Y/N," you giggle at his efforts, "And you?"

"Taeyong."

"Well Taeyong, I hope to see your... sister... and you soon!"

After his first visit, you assumed you would never see him back here again, with how uncomfortable he had felt. You thought maybe you had teased him a bit too much and he was scarred for life. But not even a week later, the same pink-topped man enters the nail shop, requesting for you. When you asked him why he's back, especially so soon, he responded that the polish on his pinky nail chipped. With a roll of your eyes, you helped him repaint his pinky nail. He was disappointed by the short appointment, so that prompted him to visit regularly now, even if his nails are perfectly intact.

Today is Taeyong's fourth visit within the past month. By this time, he has transformed from the shy awkward person to a more bold and flirtatious person. Instead of you shooting the teases that make him flushed all over, the roles are reversed where his sly actions and flirty remarks knock all the air out of your lungs. And he uses that to his advantage.

"What color?" You don't know why you ask that with every visit because Taeyong's response is always black.

Except for today, "Hmm, why don't you chose for me today? Spice it up for me, baby."

Cursing to yourself for putting your hair into a ponytail, your ears are probably firetruck red. It isn't the first time he's called you baby, or babe, or babygirl. Hell, he even calls you princess from time to time. No matter how many times Taeyong calls you these flirty pet names, it will always catch you off guard and cause your body temperature to skyrocket to an unhealthy level. It's pretty obvious that you have a huge crush on Taeyong, even if you've only known him for a few weeks. And it is blatant torture for him to tease you like this.

"Let's go with...light pink, to match your hair?"

"How adorable. So you like my hair this way?"

You ignore him, afraid that if you'd open your mouth, you'd embarrass yourself. With a silent sigh, you grab his right hand and feel the usual tingling under your skin from the contact. His hands are extremely soft and warm, so you take your time to paint his nails just so you get to hold them longer. Pathetic, I know.

"So Y/N, how's your day been?"

"Eh, kinda boring - until you showed up," you gaze into his dark eyes, leaning in. You had hoped that you can at least tease him once back for the multiple teases he sends your way. But to no avail, as Taeyong leans even closer with a daring smirk. "Is that so?"

You disconnect the eye contact to continue painting his nails, hiding your face from Taeyong. Damn you and your beautiful face.

"I bought this really pretty blue dress but I have nowhere to wear it to. So it's just sitting in my closet, collecting dust," you switch the subject quickly.

"I have somewhere for you to wear it to."

"Hmm? What, where?"

"A date?"

"Well, yeah that's obvious. But one problem, I don't have a date."

"So that means the position is open for candidates?"

You put the brush cap back into the small bottle of nail polish and stare up at the latter, "Wait hold on. Is this your way of asking me out on a date? Because if it is, my answer is yes."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then, I might have to fly to Mexico and change my name from embarrassment."

"Well, that's a good thing I am asking you out on a date, but I don't mind you going to Mexico, only if I get to accompany you though."

A couple of days have passed after, marking your first date with Taeyong. The sun is making its way towards the horizon as the doorbell of your apartment rings. You quickly slide into your small heels and grab your purse before opening the door. Standing in front of you is your date dressed in a sky blue button up and black dress pants, matched with a stylish black blazer above. You would've never thought Taeyong can get any more perfect but this very moment proves you wrong.

Taeyong holds out a hand for yours, but something caught your eyes. You reach to flip his hand over so that his palms face the floor. Instead of the cotton candy pink polish painted on his nails from two days ago, there is a blue shade that perfectly matches the beautiful dress you had on. You can tell Taeyong had painted his nails himself as polish bled off of his nail and onto his skin. It looks like how kindergarteners would color out of the lines of coloring pages, but it melts your heart anyway.

"Oh yeah," Taeyong chuckles lightly, "I did them for you. And I really tried, okay? So don't make fun of them."

"No, it's perfect. Thank you."

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