#ignore the repost it went up on the wrong account for a second | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tzuberry · 1 year

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zerobaseone maknae line as tropes / cliches ૮ • ﻌ - ა

pairing shen quanrui (ricky), kim gyuvin, park gunwook, han yujin + gn reader⠀⠀⠀details fluff, slight angst in ricky’s and gunwook’s, bulletpoint and written

cw getting stood up, mention of lipstick use in ricky’s ⠀⠀⠀wc 738 696 604 802 respectively (2840 in total)⠀⠀⠀reading time 11 min

note title kinda misleading TBH... havent written on tumblr in a while, so this is a new account and my first post! im hoping this doesnt flop :( i loved writing this so much, so if it flops i might just repost it ... idk.. likes and reblogs are appreciated !!! (only if u want to ofc 🤞🏻)

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ricky 리키

blind date... but you got stood up, and ricky is your best friend

it’s not that you really wanted to go on a date, it’s that your friend assured you this was the perfect guy for you

and your friend swore, cross their heart, that you would not regret letting them set you up

but now you’re sitting at a table alone, with pitiful looks being thrown your way by the restaurant staff and the other groups of people around you and it’s clear to you; you do regret it, and this is the last time you’ll let anyone other than yourself handle your love life

after compulsorily buying a meal for yourself so as to not leave the place empty handed, you slowly chew on your food, wondering where it went wrong

did he see a picture of you and decided that was it? did he hear a story about you that was just unflattering? what was it about you that made them turn around and away from the restaurant—away from you?

in the midst of all this, your phone emits a ding! sound. you’re not doing anything important, so you see it fit to check the notification

ricky 😡🐱: how’s your date going?

terribly. but that’s a little embarrassing to admit, especially to ricky...

yn: good! i’ll text you later

you lay your phone down on the table and pick up your utensils once again to finish your meal, but a shadow casting over your plate interrupts you

“why are you alone, then?”

When you follow the voice (and the shadow), Ricky is standing next to your table, his phone in hand with the screen open on your text thread. He turns it off with a swift click of the power button, and he takes the space on the other side of the table where your date should have been.

You don’t know how to respond. You’re embarrassed; a second ago, you were alone at a restaurant filled with people, and now, your best friend has caught you lying to him about being at said restaurant alone.

“What happened?” Ricky asks as his arm makes its way across the table to your glass of water. He lifts it to his lips, taking a sip and placing it back down. He looks genuinely concerned, maybe even a little pissed, but all you can focus on is how your lipstick stain is on the rim of the cup, and how he drank from that same spot.

You shake your head. “I, um,” you pause, pursing your lips and trying to find a good enough (fake) reason. “Nothing. I didn’t like him, and he said he had other plans, so I just let him go.”

Ricky furrows his eyebrows at that. It’s a very visible sign of incredulity; he doesn’t believe your lie. Nevertheless, he simply shrugs it off. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you reply, still dealing with the aftereffects of being stood up. You poke your fork at the food before you; a lost appetite and an expensive meal don’t mix well.

Ricky leans forward, letting his forearms rest on the surface of the table. He’s looking at you so seriously, analyzing your every move. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, attempting to come off as teasing, but he only waves you off. “I just want to look at you.”

You feel yourself practically melt under his gaze, but you ignore it. This is Ricky, your best friend... nothing more. Right. This is Ricky—you should tell him the truth about why you’re alone.

“He didn’t come,” you admit. “I wasn’t super excited about this date, but I thought– I thought I would at least go on a date. This is... nothing. I was here by myself before you got here.”

There’s a pained glint in his eyes. Is he feeling sorry for you? Maybe you do deserve all the pity you’ve gotten today. He gulps, keeping eye contact with you while biting on a small portion of his bottom lip.

After a while, he sighs. “Come on.”

Ricky begins to stand up, stuffing his phone into his pocket before you hold him back by the wrist. “What?” you question.

“We’ll go do something else,” he says with a bob of his head. Your grasp on his wrist somehow turns into your hands being interlocked. “Let me take you on a date. I’ve always wanted to, and I promise I won’t screw it up.”

gyuvin 규빈

boy next door who you’ve always had feelings for, you just never thought of him liking you back

you’ve always liked kim gyuvin

from the moment his family moved in next to your house, with his bedroom parallel to yours

you could see everything through his window; who he was, what his hobbies were, what he admired, and how he acted with his friends

this all made him seem... unattainable. you felt like you were the audience for a show, and gyuvin was the actor

it didn’t help that you went to the same school, and to further that, he was immensely popular

it was obvious. how could you expect that someone like him wouldn’t be? he’s tall, cute, extroverted, funny and kind—the entire package, if you would say so yourself

you weren’t totally unpopular. you had your fair share of friends, a few social circles that you hung out with. but gyuvin seemed too out of reach for you, even if he was your neighbor

the singular interaction you’ve had was when he came over to ask for sugar. it went like this: “hi!” “hi?” “i was baking, and i kind of ran out of brown sugar. do you maybe... uh...” “oh, sugar? wait, i think i do, hold on.”

it was that awkward. so when your mother told you she became new friends with gyuvin’s mom and wanted to have dinner at their house as a family, you freaked

but it’s not like you can say no, so you found yourself at the kims’ door a few days later

“Hi! You must be [Name]. I’ve seen you around, and I’ve heard about you from Gyuvin, but you’re much prettier up close! I know who you get your looks from,” Mrs Kim says, winking at your mother.

“You’re too kind, your son is very polite, and...”

You tune their conversation out—did she say she’s heard about you from Gyuvin? Why would he be talking about you?

Your mom finishes it (whatever she was talking about) off with, “They’d be perfect together, don’t you think?” Mrs Kim nods vigorously, then pats you twice on the shoulder. “[Name], maybe you would want to go spend some time with Gyuvin first? I’m afraid dinner isn’t ready, there’s still a long way... I’ll call you both down when it is. He’s up in his room.”

You bow, excusing yourself and obligingly treading up the stairs. This is the second time you’re about to interact with him—you better not mess up.

On the final step of the staircase, you start to hear talking from one of the bedrooms. From where you stand, it’s not clear where its origin is, and so you try to listen for the voice. It leads you to a slightly open door, and holy shit—this is Gyuvin’s door.

“They’re coming over today, and, ugh, I don’t know,” he rants. Is that about you? It has to be. Who else is coming over? You move closer to the door frame, nearly peeking your head in. “I just– I don’t know how to talk to them! Last time, I went over to ask if they wanted to hang out and...” he trails off, the regret evident in his tone. “I asked for sugar. To bake.” Oh my god. This is about you.

You take another step, risking the possibility of the door creaking. “I don’t even bake! I came home with sugar and my mom asked why and I just said I found some on the street.” He sighs, exasperated. You inch even closer, toying with the chances of him catching you eavesdropping, when... creak. At the same time, Gyuvin’s rant is cut short. “Gunwook, you have to help me, I can’t be an idiot in front of them–”

His head snaps towards the door, where you are, standing and staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. He quickly hangs up, bidding Gunwook a hushed goodbye through the microphone. “How much of that did you hear?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, flattered and shy at the same time. “I think... all of it.”

Gyuvin’s hand raises to cup his nape, and he gives you the most endearing yet bashful smile. “Would you, maybe, um, wanna hang out sometime? With me, of course...”

gunwook 건욱

friends to lovers, and everyone is sure you both like each other but all you do is deny it

you know gunwook like the back of your hand

although you met a little over a year ago, he quickly became a constant in your life, especially because you saw him everyday at school

he would wait outside your class, eat lunch with you, walk you home (and sometimes to school in the mornings), help you with homework even though he’s always busy with all the extracurriculars he participates in, and additionally schedules weekly study sessions together

this led countless people to think you were dating, even though you’re really not

you deny it, making a gesture with your hands indicating the negative. “we’re just friends, he would never be my boyfriend,” you laugh it off. gunwook tenses up, and the corners of his lips suddenly become downturned. “yeah, we’re just friends...” he agrees, sounding somewhat unsure

that’s what happens every single time someone mistakes you for a couple. you’re the first to refuse that assumption, while gunwook just follows your lead

you thought, “hey, maybe he’s just shy around the topic of dating.” and so you don’t push it, or even ask about what he thinks of the rumors surrounding you two

at this week’s study session, which he scheduled at his house, he can’t focus

repeatedly tapping his pen and running his fingers through his hair—doing anything but his homework, really—he doesn’t even spare you a glance

and so you take the responsibility upon yourself to ask. “is something bothering you?”

Gunwook sighs, looking as if he’s internally debating the pros and cons of unloading his baggage onto you. His eyes dart around his room, from the door, to the desk, to the bed, and finally to you, before he swipes his tongue between his lips and lets out a breath. “Can I ask you something?”

You drop your pen. Why does he seem so conflicted?

Readjusting your position on the bed to face him, you lean closer to Gunwook as you shove your school books and other materials out of the way. “You can ask me anything,” you say, determined to comfort your friend.

He visibly hesitates, biting his bottom lip. He’s still not looking at you, and not so much as a second is allotted for one glimpse. “Do you...” he pauses, trying to muster the courage. “Do you really think of me as just a friend?”

The question almost makes your jaw drop to the floor. What does he mean by that? Sure, you did have a short-lived crush on him when you first got acquainted, but it faded instantaneously. You didn’t know you could be anything more—you thought you had no chance with a guy like him, so your feelings were trivial to you.

Tilting your head, you reply, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Gunwook shrugs, also following your actions and pushing all his textbooks away. “I guess– oh my god, this sounds stupid, but,” he groans, “I’ve liked you since last year, since before we even became friends. And whenever someone asks if I’m your boyfriend, you just– you immediately say no.”

He... likes you? You’re dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth actually agape this time. You’re certain your cheeks are red, judging from the heat you feel rush up to your face.

At your silence, he continues. “I know it’s stupid. I didn’t just become friends with you because I like you, it’s more than that, but everytime you say I could never be your boyfriend or something like that, I hate it.

“I’ve liked you for so long, and please answer me,” he sounds breathless as he speaks, “Can I... can we be anything more?”

yujin 유진

first love / teenage crush

you didn’t know when you started liking yujin, you just did

maybe it was when you would watch him play soccer after school, with him alone on the field practicing and you doing your homework on the bleachers

or maybe it was when he bought you a drink that one time. you were thirsty after running to school because you were on the verge of getting an offense on your permanent record if you were late one more time

clicking a few buttons on the vending machine, the solace provided by strawberry milk was nearly yours—until you open your wallet to find that there’s only a thousand won inside

“maybe next time,” you think, “i don’t need to drink anything right now.”

but before you can leave, someone sneaks their two thousand into the slot for you, and the milk drops down into the small metal box below for you to claim

when you turn around, you’re met with yujin

and then a switch flipped. since then, you’ve noticed han yujin wherever you went

you stumbled onto the soccer field on a hot day when you were assigned cleaning duty, and you found that he was the only one there

deciding to repay the favor, after spectating him practicing for a while, you go to buy a drink for him too when you buy your own

you leave it next to his bag with a note, saying: “you’re really good! i bought this for you, make sure to get some rest ♡”

and so watching him practice while doing your homework became a regular occurrence for you, even if you weren’t 100% watching all the time. it was like background music, and your interest in him (caused by him buying you milk) became a full blown crush

Following the steps of your daily routine, you hurriedly arrange your books in your backpack, ready to go see Yujin—the best part of your day—when your teacher stops you at the door.

“[Name], I’d like to talk to you about tutoring someone,” she says, a soft smile plastered on her face as if she wasn’t actively ruining your day. “You’re one of my best students, and a classmate of yours really needs help.”

As hard as you tried to get away, you got stuck in the classroom for the rest of the afternoon, discussing possible tutoring times and the topic outlines where your “classmate” needed further explanation. Not only were you annoyed you missed some time to see Yujin, but when you got to the field, hoping he would still be practicing late into the night, he was gone.

Although you were displeased at the thought of having to tutor your male classmate every day of the school week, you had no choice. In addition, he was at least paying you, so it wasn’t like your hard work was for nothing—just that now, you would have to sacrifice your time with the boy you like.

You started to tutor him after school, and going to see Yujin became a rare possibility. Your tutoring was yielding good results, however, and your tutee received high marks on almost all tests after being taken under your wing.

He runs up to you, showing you his paper with a big red ninety-eight in the corner; he got an even higher grade than you did. “[Name]! Thank you, look at this! I’ve never gotten a grade this high!” You nod, but everything he’s saying is going in one ear and out the other. Since he technically doesn’t need your help anymore, maybe you could go watch Yujin today.

You cancel your session for the day, with permission from your advising teacher. After two and a half weeks, you’re finally back at the field—but this time, he’s the one who isn’t here. You let out a deep breath, deciding to power through and do your homework like normal.

You’re in the middle of trigonometry when a cool sensation is pressed up against your cheek, water beginning to drip down your skin. Flicking your head towards the perpetrator, you discover it to be Yujin holding a strawberry milk for you. He giggles, handing you the small box and sitting down beside you. “Here. I haven’t, um, seen you in a while. Why’s that?”

You take it from him, detaching the straw from the back of the box and poking it through the designated hole. “Yeah,” you say, sipping on the milk for a few seconds after. “I started to tutor Jiwon, so I couldn’t come the last few weeks.”

“Oh, you must be busy, then. Nevermind,” he mutters, shaking his head. “No, what is it? You can’t just say nevermind.” You scoff, a teasing grin making its way onto your face.

Yujin gulps. “Will you, uh... come to my game this weekend?”

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fuhutao · 3 years

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best friends, but more // the harbingers as the best friend you realize you’ve fallen for <fics>

featuring: childe, scaramouche (separate) x gn!reader

genre: (a little!) hurt/comfort

a/n: these started off as hcs but now they’re 2 whole fics HAHAH send help :D

if you’ve already seen this before, it’s because i had to restart my account & am reposting all my previous works here!

on that note, all likes and reblogs are very appreciated :)

childe

• as the resident best friend, you’ve always been very close with childe’s large family. but as the two of you grew older, his siblings began to suspect you were more than just a playmate. it was an innocent observation on their part, and yet, it never failed to make you feel just a little warm inside.

• childe has always been and always will be a sickenly affectionate best friend. the kind that goes “i love you too!” when you insist you hate them. now, you might complain about how annoying it is, but it’s rather sweet. if there’s something you want, he’ll buy it for you without a second thought. he shamelessly pats your head and pokes your cheek to grab your attention. he’ll hold objects high above so you can’t reach and tease you with nickname after nickname. at times like these, he feels more like a boyfriend than anything.

• you’ve always felt so at peace with him. he’s never failed to make you laugh with his stupid, stupid jokes and slowly, your heart would skip a few beats as well. these gestures were no big deal as children, but you definitely aren’t children anymore.

• you’re one of the few in his life that are both (1) his age and (2) do not harbor an infectious blood-thirst. therefore, you serve as his personal anchor to reality; holding him tight after countless battles and treating his injuries, all the while fighting your own growing emotions.

• since he is always sent away on duty, you are left with a lot of time to ponder your feelings for the harbinger. were they platonic or….something more?

• say you did like him romantically—which you try to convince yourself you don’t—you could never imagine coming in between him and that burning passion of his. yes, he is a monster in the battlefield, but to you, he’s still the wonderful boy you befriended years ago. and because you saw no fault in him, you felt as if you’d hold him back.

• this didn’t mean you knew how to deal with his careless teases and playful touches, however. they weren’t annoying anymore, they were frightening.

• it all went down one day when you guys were watching over his youngest siblings: tonia, anthon, and teucer. the children had let it slip that the two of you seemed like a couple, being so close and all.

“oh? well, i wouldn’t mind taking little _____ on dates, would you guys?” childe laughs, slipping an arm around your shoulders.

“nope! we love _____!”

you giggle along with them, but an uncomfortable pit forms at the depths of your stomach.

awhile later, childe is walking you home after dropping the kids off together.

“hey, is something wrong? you’ve been unusually quiet.”

“huh? nothing’s wrong, you weirdo.”

“hmmm..” childe leans over and flicks your forehead.

“ow!”

the two of you share a smile, but there’s a silence that seems to stretch an awful lot of time. it’s only when you’ve reached your house, that your best friend decides to break it:

“you know, what i said back there wasn’t really a joke,” he blurts out.

“huh? what do you mean?”

“about taking you on dates..about us being a couple.”

stunned, you laugh nervously, your head does a spin. what’s going on???

“well, aren’t you going to say something?”

“i don’t know what you’re up to right now, but stop it. this isn’t funny..”

“i’m serious!”

“so am i, ajax!”

and suddenly, childe is grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. it’s so abrupt, you don’t know what to do. why was he playing with your feelings? the very ones you were so sure you could ignore?

“stop-”

“wait. feel it, _____. do you still think i’m joking?”

• underneath the layers of clothing and flesh, his heart was beating just as rapidly as yours.

scaramouche

• no one knew just how you managed to befriend the grouchy harbinger, including him and yourself

• well.…you weren’t really his best friend per say, perhaps his only. and the main reason for this was because you wouldn’t butt out of his life! practically everyday, you would visit the menace.

• the two of you have known each other since your teenage years and perhaps that explained why he seemed to…tolerate you. however, this never once stopped his bully-esque remarks.

• you didn’t mind he was a man of few (pretty horrible) words and to be honest, really admired him. you soon realized that this feeling was not just admiration, but to your horror, love?!! oh dear.

• knowing scaramouche, you didn’t have any hopes of him reciprocating your feelings. all the negative things he’s ever said to you—about you—came crashing down and all of a sudden, simply brushing it off wasn’t so easy.

• afraid that your relationship would change if he ever found out you liked him like that, and the inevitable disgust on his face if he did, you decided to distance yourself from him for just a bit. he always mentioned you were a bother anyways, right? or perhaps he wouldn’t notice at all.

• oh, but he did. you were taking a stroll around the area when he cornered you. there were no other fatui agents in sight, so it was safe to assume he came alone.

“oh. good morning!”

“don’t act like everything’s normal. where have you been?”

“here? i’ve been here?”

“are you stupid? a whole week’s passed since you last spoke to me. what’s your excuse? make it good and i’ll decide if you live another day.”

“haha, i’ve been busy, scaramouche. did you miss me that much?”

your best friend stays silent, his eyes boring into yours.

“don’t do it again. i was worried.”

“worried?” you can’t believe your ears. “pfft! shouldn’t you be focusing on, i don’t know, fatui..duties—?”

“hey, arent you the one who always claims we’re best friends? what happened to that?” best friends. it looks like it physically pains him to say something so childish, vulnerable. best friends. in the past, you would’ve laughed and rejoiced—“the man finally admits it! we’re best friends!” now, you can’t help but blink sadly.

scaramouche notices the falter in your eyes and sighs crisply.

“look, _____. i know i’m harsh, but…you’re special to me. so please. don’t leave, got it?”

• the pink creeping up his ears tells you all you need to know.

1K notes · View notes

maroonmusings · 2 years

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Before We Go [s.r]

Fandom: Marvel (Endgame-centric) Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1,698 Warnings: nope :)

A/N: this is a repost/touch-up from an account I don't post fics on (it's literally the only one I'd posted on there lmao). just a cute little romp before all hell breaks loose in endgame 🙃

Cold water trickles down your face, a refreshing intoxication to your system. It does wonders for the nerves you’re going to expertly conceal when you’re surrounded by the team. Authority doesn’t work without confidence and a solid game plan. That’s how you always felt about it, that is.

After drying your face and cutting off the faucet’s water flow, you take in the new suit adorning your body. Primarily white with black accents and red trim. A smirk crosses your lips. While your knowledge of quantum physics was as limited as the percent of malevolence in Scott Lang’s psyche, you knew its kinetic fibers would protect you in your attempt at time travel. The concept had always frightened you, as you harbored a genuine fear for the unknown, but those stones have to be located if it means bringing back your friends. Your family.

Besides, you looked good. Who would have thought that red and white complimented each other so perfectly?

Exiting the bathroom, you nearly run into the aforementioned Ant-Man. Not because you weren’t looking properly, but because Scott looked to be light-years away. It’s as if he had already traveled to another dimension without you.

“Lang,” you greeted with a tilt of your chin, thinking the sound of your voice would be enough to break him from his mental reverie. Based on the way he continues to wring his hands and paw at the back of his neck, legs carrying him from one end of the hallway to the other, and back again, you’d say you failed. You press further. “Scott.”

Startled green eyes meet yours, jaw popping open for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. You rose a brow in disinterest as he straightened his posture, puffing up his chest to appear more self-assured. “Hello, fellow Earth’s mightiest hero. Yep. It is I, Scott Lang: an emotionally stable who could definitely defeat Thanos in his sleep. I deemed it selfish of myself to go it alone, hence, I came to you for help. I’m very strong.”

“Scott—”

“Like, embarrassingly so.” He continues. Oh my God, he’s broken. “As in, I went to pick up my coffee mug this morning, and the whole thing just shattered.”

“Hold on—”

“Like, a million pieces.” Laughing nervously, he throws in a passive, “My muscles are so big.”

“Dude, cut the crap.” You demanded half-heartedly, gaze softening. “This will work, okay? You’ll get to see Hope again, and we can get rid of that purple bastard for good.”

“I know, I know.” He returned, almost sounding defeated before the battle had even begun. “I guess I’m overwhelmed by, just, everything. So much is happening all at once with so much at risk. One wrong step, and I could ruin this for not only myself but everyone.”

“Scott Lang, you are the toughest Ant-Man I know—”

“There are other Ant-Mans?!”

“—and you’re not gonna screw up anything, because we’re all gonna be covering each others’ asses out there. We’re a team. A family. We’re all in this thing together.”

“She’s right, Scott.”

Ignoring the tremor that ran through your body at the sound of his voice, the corner of your lip curled upwards as Steve Rogers, Captain America, joined the two of you. He met your eyes briefly before focusing on Scott, his cheeks now carrying a faint pink hue. “We are a family, and families stick together. It won’t be any different for us. We’re gonna go back in time, get to those gems before Thanos, and bring back our friends.”

“God, you guys are good together.” Scott uttered before giving much thought to his words. The compliment caught you off guard, as you choked on your breath while Steve’s face became a deep shade of red. Scott’s eyes widened as he attempted to save himself. “Oh, I didn’t mean it in that way, of course! I was just trying to say that you’re really good at those motivational speech things. You knew that, right? God, maybe my superpower should be ‘knowing when to shut up.’”

“Yeah, why would we—”

“How about we just get back to the others?” You suggested, sending a tight-lipped smile to convey your need to evade this conversation topic.

“Great idea!” Steve agreed a little too enthusiastically, the excitement in his tone making you jolt in surprise.

Shaking off what may have been the worst interaction in your life, you led the two men back to the rest of your friends.

“We ready to do this?” Natasha wasted no time for pleasantries as she lifted an eyebrow in question. “I know I am.”

“Sure, why not?” Scott returned, nervously, but you could tell from the newfound determination on his face that he was ready.

“Let’s do this.” Bruce said.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.” Clint stated, a hard look in his eyes from all the pain he had endured due to Thanos.

“Hell yeah!” Rocket cheered. “Let’s get this dirtbag, once and for all.”

Thor tipped his head back to chug the soda in his hand before crushing the can and releasing a belch that caused even you to crack a smile. “I’m with the Rabbit.”

“Well, majority rules.” Tony pointed out, an edge to his tone that hid his true levels of excitement to be working with the team again. “Let’s go save our friends, and, hopefully, the world.”

Natasha guided the temporary remaining members of the Avengers to the Quantum Portal. Your friends followed her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Something was holding you back. Or someone.

“Actually, Steve,” There was a waiver to your voice, and you silently cursed yourself for waiting so late to do what you were about to do. The man stopped in his tracks and looked back at you, brows furrowed in question. You sighed shakily, suddenly hating the way feelings made you feel. You spoke quietly so as to not alert the other seven people who will definitely tease you about this once everything is back in order. “Can I talk to you about something for a second?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Everything alright back there, you two?” Tony shouted, but the dryness in your throat made you unable to speak above anything more than a whisper.

Steve took note of this, probably because he’s never seen you in such an emotional state before, and answered for you. “Yeah, we’ll be over there in a minute.”

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fi—ow! What the hell, Iron Moron?!”

“Stuff it, Build-a-Bear, or I’ll stuff it for you.”

“Yes!” Thor says jovially. “Because Build-a-Bears are made with—”

Steve shuffled into your line of sight, his calm and reassuring baby blues giving you the motivation to catch your breath. His voice is soft and gentle, matching the grasp he has on your forearms. “Hey, what is it?”

In a terrifyingly accurate Lang-like fashion, an avalanche of words tumbled from your mouth before you could organize your thoughts. But first, you try to back out. Naturally. “Um, well, it’s a lot, so if you’d rather just talk about it later, actually, I wouldn’t mind.”

“No,” he assures, timbre more soothing, if that was even possible. “You can tell me. We have time.”

Nice try, you guess. Cue the Lang ramble. “Okay, well, there’s this thing that has kind of been bothering me. Well, a lot of things bother me, as you know. But, um, this thing revolves around the two of us. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for a long time. As in, practically since the day we met. Obviously that never happened. Probably because of these stupid walls I put up to block out anyone who I find myself the sligh—”

Hands sliding up to your jaw, Steve pulls you closer. Your eyes find his, clouded with something that made them sparkle. Like glitter sprinkled in the sky. His words are quiet, insistent, and only meant for you. “I love you, too.”

Steve’s lips were soft and warm, like a field of flowers on an enchanting summer day. His touch was gentle yet persistent. Kind yet urgent. Loving yet determined. His hands held your face in such a way that anchored you to him. The two of you became one as he drew your body in closer, your hands finding a place to rest on his chest. Every emotion running through your bodies could be felt within the embrace.

The urgency of the mission.

Fear for its outcome.

Hidden doubts, tucked away to appear strong.

Ambition to bring back your lost friends.

All while keeping the found ones safe.

Love stored in a deep heart department that only he could reach.

As you parted for air, your eyes remained closed. After pushing back the desire for any chance of happiness for yourself, you had finally fought those inner demons to find love. You finally had him. You wanted to bask in this moment of self-glory in his arms for eternity, but even a couple more seconds would suffice.

Rowdy cheers and applause were what forced you to open your eyes to the genuine smiles on the faces of those you loved. Seeing them celebrating in a time such as this lightened the weight on your shoulders, as living a life like yours required you to seize every moment of laughter that you could.

Steve’s smile widened upon seeing your happy expression. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, before slightly shaking his head in bewilderment at the sight before him. His eyes had never been clearer. “You ready to go restore humanity, doll?”

“Always,” You kissed his pink cheek, your smile falling the slightest bit as you said your next words. “Just don’t die on me, Rogers.”

“And you be careful.”

“When am I not?” You winked, poking his nose.

The two of you rejoined the team in the Quantum Portal where you would be sent back to the past. You locked eyes with Tony across the way, who flashed you a quick thumbs up and a wink.

From that point forward, you all began the mission to save your friends, and, hopefully, the world.

#marvel imagines #marvel imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers imagine #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel x reader #steve rogers one shot #captain america x reader #maroonmusings

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magnolias-make-me-happy · 3 years

Text

She

word count: 1888

pairing: andy barber x female reader

warnings: slight mentions of cheating, slight language

a/n: so i was listening to She by Harry Styles and i got the idea for this, but the ending is different than the song. now i do NOT condone cheating in any way, this just kinda poured out of my head and it’s my first fic on my new account, so i really hope you enjoy it!

also please do not repost or copy my work in any way without asking me first thank you.

Andy woke up around the time he usually did, about 7 am, and he started his morning routine, again, like usual. Shower, teeth, coffee, get dressed, and wake his son up for the day. Around 9 was when he dropped Jacob off at school. Like everyday.

But it wasn’t like everyday was it? No, Andy had something or rather someone he just couldn’t get out of his head no matter what.

You.

But who could blame him? How could anyone not think about you? How could anyone not be consumed by the thought of you? Andy was sure that he wasn’t the only one who thought about you, he saw the looks men and even some women gave you at the office.

Around 1:00-1:30, Andy sent his assistant for his usual second cup of coffee as he thought about this. Maybe it was your aura that drew people to you, or maybe your ridiculously unique laugh. How Andy craved to hear your laugh everyday, or to even catch a glimpse of your smile. It made his head spin.

The next day Andy took his son out on their family boat. Jacob had had a hard day yesterday and he wanted to make him feel better but again, all he could think about was you. He imagined spontaneously taking you out on the boat, bags packed,and just leaving. Leaving behind all of his responsibilities, his regrets. His wife. But regrettably he did have responsibilities, he had to deal with his regrets, and he couldn’t leave his wife. Not now.

So, he carried on with his day. It got worse and worse with time, his marriage, and his thoughts of you. Laurie was starting to notice how sometimes he was there but he wasn’t. Like he was in some far off place. And in a way he was. He was with you, happy and content on some island somewhere or an apartment. The daydream always changed.

But you were always there, making him happy. He often woke up in the middle of the night to find himself smiling in his sleep. Feeling somewhat guilty sometimes, he’d try to go back to sleep and will all thoughts of you from his mind. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

The weeks ahead were torture, as Andy crawled into bed most nights he had to will his heartbeat to slow down so he could try and get some sleep. He knew now in his heart that it was right for him to feel this way, but he hoped more than anything that his son would see that too.

After a long day, and a quick goodnight peck on the cheek, Laurie slept soundly in her bed that night, a dreamless sleep wafting over her fairly easily. Her husband however, laid awake at night wondering where he went wrong.

Andy sighed,tucking his arm behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling for the third night this week. Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day. He had thought about this for a long time, and he knew what he had to do.

Too long had Andy ignored his desires, too long had he shoved away how his heart screamed at him that his marriage just wasn’t working anymore. How he shoved away his longing for you that was so prominent that even Laurie felt how different her husband was nowadays.

His touch was different, like how he held her hand so lightly, she felt like she wasn’t even holding anything at all. Or how when he hugged her, if he even did at all that week, he never squeezed and engulfed her like he used to. Even his kisses were different, once passionate, now quick little pecks on the cheek as he rushed off to work for the day. Laurie knew that her marriage was beyond repair, and that it was only a matter of time.

Andy woke up extra early the next morning. He took special care in his appearance, fixing his hair a little neater than usual, brushing his teeth a little bit harder, even wearing his favorite most expensive cologne that he had saved for special occasions. You had complimented that cologne one time at an office christmas party, so he knew you had liked it.

Everything after that was the same morning routine he had had for years. But when he got to his office, he sat in his car for a second. Letting out a sigh of air and straightening his tie.

“Today’s the day Andy, don’t screw this up”

He got out and walked up to the building fixing the sides of his hair as he pulled open the glass doors. Then you walked in and suddenly, it was like all of the air was sucked out of the room. You looked amazing, breathtaking. You hadn’t worn anything out of the ordinary, a blazer with a nice blouse tucked into long black pants, and the usual black heels. You know, as a nice lawyer would wear.

But to Andy you looked as if it was the first time he ever saw you. Then it was as if the air was thrown back into the room and he was suddenly very aware that he was just standing there, so getting a grip on himself and his briefcase, he walked into his office shutting the door. He took a second to collect himself, before opening the door and walking down the hall to your office.

He straightened his tie once again and rapped on your door.

“Y/N?”

“Come in!”

He opened the door and saw you had looked up from one of your case files, a friendly smile on your face.

“Yes, Andy, can I help you with something?”

He took a breath

“Yes actually, a file I could use your help reviewing. A fresh pair of eyes would be helpful.”

You knitted your eyebrows and Andy suddenly got nervous, something that had rarely happened to him before, but he’d be damned if you didn’t do that to him. You closed the file and crossed your arms over it. “But you don’t have any files with you?”

Goddamnit Andy, I told you not to screw it up

“I left it in my office, i’m a bit out of it today I guess” he offered a nervous laugh. You looked from him to the file on your desk and sighed. “There’s no file, is there Andy?” “Yeah there’s no file I just wanted to talk to you about something” he admitted. He sat down and looked at you.

Here goes nothing

“Would you like to get coffee sometime? With me?”

You sat back a little stunned, you didn’t know much about the man but you did know he was married and you weren’t that type of girl. Were you?

Andy noticed you glancing at his wedding band and a sweat started to form on the back of his neck. “Y/N, I- I’m leaving her.” He had stated for the first time, to her and himself. It was all real now. He was actually doing this.

Your eyes flicked back to his face. You contemplated it for a moment. If he was lying, you’d honestly be a little disappointed. He was a very handsome man, well built and well kept for most men his age. He was always nice to you as well. If he was telling the truth, this might just turn out to be a very good thing. After all, it’s just a coffee right? If it doesn’t work out so be it, but how could you not take the risk?

“I’d love to, Andy. I don’t want to get dragged in the middle of something but i’d like to see where this goes, so for now it’s just coffee”

Andy smiled to himself and nodded. “It’s a date”

That night when he got home, Laurie was waiting for him at the dining room table. A single glass of red wine in front of her. Now that wasn’t unusual but the look on her face was. She knew.

This morning she had smelled his cologne as she got up and she immediately knew that something was going on that her husband wasn’t telling her. Andy sighed and shrugged off his jacket, throwing it on the back of the couch along with his briefcase.

Loosening his tie as he walked into the dining room, he silently sat down in the chair in front of her. As soon as he settled in, tears filled her eyes.

“Laurie I-“

“Who is she?” She interrupted

“She works with me at the office. She’s another lawyer, but I swear nothing has actually physically happened. It’s just the way I feel about her”

Laurie couldn’t tell if the words made her feel better or worse. “Do you love her?” She questioned. Andy thought about it and sighed “I’m not really sure but I think that it’s the start of it or something at least” He felt bad for hurting his wife but he couldn’t do it anymore. He just didn’t love her like he used to all those years ago.

Laurie wiped what tears she could from her face “What happened, Andy? Where did it go wrong?” Andy flinched, he didn’t want to tell her the truth for fear of hurting her more, but he couldn’t give her the answer she wanted either.

“I don’t-“ he wiped his hand over his face, preparing for the answer “I don’t know Laurie but I just, it’s not there anymore. I love you, of course I do. You’re the mother of my son and I’ll always love and cherish you for that. But it’s not like how I used to.”

Laurie had calmed down a little bit by now ,not really knowing how she felt at the moment. Relief? Sadness? Anger? Maybe all of the above but she was a smart woman. She knew that it had been over for quite some time. Maybe now she could try and find happiness somewhere else.

“I understand”

The next month, Andy was moving out. He left Laurie and Jacob the house. He didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be on either of them. He closed the Uhaul door and walked back inside the house, setting the house key on the marble counter.

He did a final sweep to make sure he got everything, and gave Jacob a hug. Andy told him that everything was going to be alright, and he knew on some level that Jacob knew everything. After all he was a smart kid. He hugged Laurie as best he could under the circumstances and headed towards the door.

As he opened it, he stepped one foot outside and turned his head to look at his soon to be ex-wife.

“You’ll find happiness, you’re an amazing woman Laurie. You just need the right guy now.”

As Laurie thought back to the other man she had been seeing for about a few months now, she offered Andy a small smile.

“I know”

#andy barber #andy barber x female reader #fluff #chris evans #cheating #y/n #andy barber x y/n #fanfiction #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber one shot #chris evans imagine #reader insert

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harrylilies · 4 years

Text

The Royal Series | Pt. I

The Royal Series Masterlist

I posted this series in 2018 but in late 2019, my blog got hacked and I lost all my work. This is me reposting the written chapters of The Royal Series after crying to my husband after I lost it along with all my writing on here. Enjoy. x

It had been long since you had let your hair down for a night.

You longed for a lowkey life, although you knew that the royal protocols you had been following since you were a child were far too embedded in you – yet, you knew how to have your fun.

You found fun in your trips to get milk and cheese yourself, in the strolls you went on in the early morning, when you attended a friend’s wedding, when your oldest brother wasn’t Prince William who was close in line, but a protective brother whom you teased for being old, when your ginger brother, Harry, patted you on the back and helped you with the plans that would make your grandma, the Queen, not necessarily pleased, when you danced with your best friend, and,

when you listened to music; which explained where you were that moment.

The arena was lit, some people who passed by you walking past you without a care, probably thinking that a princess in a Harry Styles concert in Los Angeles was too far-fetched, while others stood stunned.

In your defence, you looked unsuspicious in your black merch hoodie and black jeans, your best friend, Farrah – whom you met at university –, beside you in a casual attire as well, but the two bulky men walking behind you and close in black suits and wireless earbuds did little to conceal you.

Reaching your seats, you grinned at your best friend as you sat. From your peripheral, you saw your two private guards looking around, standing in the aisle beside Farrah’s seat.

“Hey,” you grabbed their attention, pointing with your thumb behind your back at the empty seats, “Would you please sit?”

“Your Highness w-”

"Please, it's a command. Sit here, enjoy the show." You told the two guards who intently looked at you before giving a reluctant nod.

In your balcony seat, your eyes then fell on the stage in anticipation.

"Your Highness," You heard someone beside you, making you look.

A brunet man, no older than 32, stood with a polite and kind smile.

You smiled. "Are you Jeffery?" He nodded, beginning to politely bow his head a tad. You offered your hand with a wide grin, "Thank you for giving me seats in such a short notice, I’m really sorry for any inconvenience."

"Oh no, it really is a pleasure, your Highness." Jeff tipped is head.

"Just Y/N." You smiled, glancing at the stage as the opening act were saying their goodbyes. "He's coming out now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he is. Have you been a fan for long?" Jeff asked as you both stood alongside each other, looking at the stage.

"Quite long actually. Since One Direction," You giggled, shrugging, "Always wanted to attend one of their concerts but only now have I been able to do so. Harry has a lovely voice. I have the album on a lot." You laughed, letting Jeff in on your secret, “But hey, keep that between us.” You joked.

Jeff chuckled, "Who would've guessed that the Princess of the United Kingdom is a Harry Styles fan?"

“Trust me, you’d be surprised.” Farrah said, joining in as the three of you laughed.

“I’ll be right there with the rest of the crew,” Jeff pointed at a different place where people from the crew stood, almost all of them looking at you. At you looking at them, they all turned in embarrassment which made you chuckle to yourself before looking at Jeff who had a bashful smile, “Sorry about that. It’s exciting.”

“It’s exciting for me, too.” You assured him.

“Well, please call me or have anyone to do so if you need anything, your H-” you gave him a look, “Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

The lights flickered off, your heart fluttering in excitement as you stood up, beginning to cheer with the fans.

The notes of Ever Since New York started playing before the lights were on, making you finally see the man you had flown out to see.

In a blue floral suit, Harry stood with his guitar before he began singing, Farrah recording you as you dramatically sang along.

With every song, you and Farrah let loose; dancing together and screaming the lyrics, vibing with Harry and his band. Hell, you caught one of your guards bob his head to Only Angel before his colleague swatted his arm.

It didn't take long for more people to notice the presence of the English Princess and her famous best friend, some phones and flashes being directed your way but experiencing the excitement and utter euphoria of it all, you chose to ignore the attention.

You were captivated to say the least by his performance, posting stories to your private Instagram account, isthataladybug, of a 102 follower.

You knew that he was a cheeky person who enjoyed a nice chat, so him walking around with his mic and talking to fans wasn’t of any surprise, yet, you didn’t predict him addressing you.

"I would just like to greet someone incredibly special here tonight," Harry said through the mic as he wandered on stage before looking your way, "Hi!" He grinned, waving at you. "All well?"

With a grin and flushed cheeks, you nodded and gave him thumbs up.

With a dimpled smile, Harry tipped his head and gave you a curtesy which sent everyone in a frenzy and you and Farrah to laugh.

Farrah nudged you, making you turn to look at her. "We're meeting him, right?"

You shrugged, "Jeff said we will. Said Harry would have his head if we didn’t.”

To say you were disappointed when Harry said his goodbyes after finishing the setlist would be an understatement, although the fact that you were meeting him seemed to brighten you up a tad.

Backstage was chaotic.

Everyone was running around, wanting to be on their best behaviours and look like it for when the Princess came in, every person telling the other that Jeff was on his way to get you and your best friend and that in just a few, they would be seeing the Princess of the United Kingdom in the flesh.

Harry was no better, pacing around the room, making sure he looked decent and collected. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned to look at his band, “How do I look?”

“Like you’re not going to pass out in any second.” Sarah said sarcastically.

"Fuck, I'm so nervous." Harry laughed, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit trousers.

"So am I. Who would've thought that I'm going to meet the Princess of the United Kingdom? Someone better film this." Clare said before letting out a breath as the band stood in the dressing room.

"I-" Adam was cut off by a knock on the door.

They looked at each other with wide eyes before Harry cleared his throat, standing straighter. "Come in!"

Jeff came inside first, his figure hiding yours before he walked further inside and you and Farrah were then seen. The grin on your face was contagious.

Lined, with Harry at the end, you began to shake hands with the band.

"You were absolutely amazing!" You said as you shook their hands, one by one before reaching Harry.

Neither of you knew that the other was about to pass out from the nerves and excitement as you both smiled at each other.

"Thank you for the show. You're as good live as the studio version, if not better." You said.

Blushing at the comment, Harry softly shook your hand. "It's my honour, your Highness."

"Y/N," you corrected him, your hand still in his. "Just Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry repeated with a charming smile. "An honour, Y/N."

Being this close to him, you noticed how emerald Harry's eyes were. Raspberry pink lips and blushing cheeks, he was a sight for sore eyes.

It was cliché, anyone from the outside would say so, but have a 23-year-old Princess meet a 23-year-old artist whom she had been listening to for years and try not to make it cliché; hell, cliché or not, it was a meeting for the stories.

Farrah clearing her throat was what brought you out of your trance, making you remove your hand from Harry's.

"Well, we were actually going out for a drink if you want to join? Is that okay for you?" Sarah asked, “Oh my God, I just asked the Princess to grab a drink with us, I’m so sorry, your Highness.”

“Hey, no, no,” you quickly shook your head, “It’s fine,” you glanced at the guards and your best friend who gave you a nod, "I’d love to join if you’re all okay with Farrah and I joining. We wouldn’t want to interrupt any band-bonding time."

"Of course!" Harry grinned. "We're more than okay."

Telling you the lowkey bar – that served “amazing fries and boneless chicken wings” as Adam said – they were driving to, you exchanged “see you later’s” before you separated ways.

Right as you sat in the car, Farrah turned to face you, “What was that?”

In confusion, you looked at her, “What was what?”

“You and Harry fucking Styles! What was that?” She laughed excitedly, “Please make it happen.”

“Make what happen? You’re a lunatic!”

“You just pulled a Nicholas Sparks back there; ogling at each other, holding hands like yes, Mr. Darcy, I’d let you wed me.” She said dramatically, putting the back of her hand against her forehead.

“First of all, never do this again,” you cringed jokingly, “Second of all, what’s wrong with you? I have a conversation with a lad and suddenly I should get married to him?”

“He’s not just any lad, don’t discredit him like that.”

“Why don’t you go out with him then, Miss Farrah?” You teased her.

“Because I’m Muslim and it won’t work out, you know with our fa-”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t when I said you pulled a Nicholas Sparks.”

“I should’ve brought Emma instead of you.” You let out a sigh.

“Imagine if she could’ve joined though. It would’ve been Emma and I against you.” Farrah poked your arm.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Arriving at the bar, you and Farrah entered, finding that it wasn’t at all crowded but quite the opposite. Very few people were inside, all seeming to mind their business as they ate and drank, a jukebox playing music to add to the atmosphere of the place.

Among the people, your eyes fell on the band you were meeting, Harry instantly standing and waving at you with a grin.

They had left you seats, although you knew your guards were going to stand as your shadows.

Sitting on the opposite seat from Harry, you were seated beside Sarah, the “discreet” excited expression she gave to Mitch not going unnoticed but you only smiled to yourself instead of commenting.

“This was your second show, wasn’t it?” You asked, all of them nodding and replying with confirmation, “Any idea what this tour will have for you?”

“So many headaches,” Hélène replied in her French accent with a chuckle, “So, so many headaches.”

“Brighten up,” Clare nudged the photographer jokingly, “It’s only the second night.”

“I feel like this tour would be a milestone in all of our lives,” Adam replied, seeming to avoid eye contact with you before he looked at his bandmates, “Literally all of us.”

“A-Are you okay?” Farrah asked him, causing Adam’s posture to relax as he laughed.

“I just don’t know if I should look at you,” he said as he looked at you, “What if it’s disrespectful? Illegal?”

“Oh my God, no,” you laughed as you shook your head, “I’m sitting at a bar in Los Angeles with you, Adam, that’s not exactly a Trooping the Colour.”

“When we first heard you were attending,” Harry began, “We all just sort of,” his eyes widened before he laughed, “You know what?” He turned to look at Adam, “That’s a milestone right there.”

“You speak too highly of me,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, “What about all of you? That album, tonight, you should give yourself more credit.”

“Makes sense that people love you so much.” Mitch said with a small smile.

“Not everyone loves her, excuse you,” Farrah joked, raising her hand up.

“Ah, bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, “You love me the most.”

“No?”

“That’s denial.”

Conversations seemed to flow naturally among everyone at the table, laughter being heard as well as a few claps from how hard one of you would be laughing.

It wasn’t until you realised that you hadn’t drank anything that you stood up, “I’m going to grab something to drink. Does anyone want anything?”

A chorus of “thank you’s” was heard, you fully knowing that they probably hadn’t bothered to even ask you to get them anything because of your title.

“I’ll bring these fries and wings for all of us you told me about.” You pointed at Adam.

“I’ll join you.” Harry said, standing from his place and approaching you before the both of you walked towards the bar.

“Sorry if they make you uncomfortable.” You mumbled to Harry as you both sat on stools.

“Who?”

“Sid and Andrew, the guards,” you replied, “They’re the sweetest actually.” You smiled at the men who stood at a safe distance away from you but nearby, both of them tipping their heads at you before they began looking around.

“No, of course not,” Harry shook his head, “I thought you’d have more with you honestly.”

You waved off, “No, two are enough. Daddy wanted me to walk around with 6 but,” you laughed, “God, no.”

Harry smiled before his smile turned into a smirk, “Did you just say Daddy?”

“Ye-Gross, stop! That’s my father!” You groaned, stuffing your face in your hands as Harry laughed, “How old are you, Styles? 14?”

“And a half actually.”

“Ha, ha.” You tried to stifle your smile as you looked up at him, “It’s Mummy and Daddy for us, excuse you.”

“It’s cute.” Harry smiled timidly.

“It was until you commented.” You teased him, giving him a shrug.

“I apologise, your Highness. Please, don’t behead me.” Dramatically, Harry put a hand to his heart.

“I’ll think about it.” You put both hands on the counter gracefully, placing one above the other as you turned away from him before the both of you laughed.

Neither of you had noticed that you hadn’t ordered yet, only remembering when the bartender came over to take your order.

After ordering, you were both quiet, listening to the music that sounded in the place, you swaying slightly in your seat as you looked around.

"Are you not scared?"

You turned to look at Harry, “Excuse me?”

“Are you not scared?” He repeated.

"Of what?” You asked.

"Being seen in here. The rumours. I mean my rumours I can take care of but royal rumours?" Harry shrugged.

“Why? Are you scared?” The tiny smirk that was your lips were drawn into didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, feeling his lips lift into one of his own just at the sight of yours.

Harry took a moment to drink you up; the vibe you gave off was nothing he imagined. The dainty, soft princess he saw on the screen ever since he was young wasn't who sat in front of him.

In front of him was a confident woman, fearless and ready to seize whatever risk thrown at her. A woman who refused to have her identity shaped up and formed by her family and what the world was trying to limit her to, all for a title.

That's why with a thumping heart and an amused smile, Harry replied; "No, Princess. I'm not scared."

#harrylilies #I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING #The Royal Series #my babies #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fake au #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #harry styles fluff series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff fanfic #harry styles au

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softboywriting · 4 years

Text

Valentine | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: Valentine’s Day is approaching and you’d like Nathan to do something for you. Too bad he’s not good at taking hints. Or is he? [Fluff] [Established Relationship] [No Use of Y/N]

Word Count: 1k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan Bateman and Valentine's Day go together like cotton candy and water. Trying to make it work out will leave you with nothing but a sad mess of nothing. You never expected much from him on the holiday, he never was much for any holiday really, but it would be nice. You'd like to receive a small token of affection. Giving is your love language and you give a lot to him, your time, your heart, your life essentially. It is time to receive something in return. But bringing it up to him without a lecture on how it's a fake holiday manufactured by corporations, well, that's a feat on its own.

"What's today?" You ask from across the lab where you're testing an arm for mobility.

"Thursday."

"Yes but the date?"

Nathan looks up from his work and peers at you over his glasses. It's as if he's caught on to your game. "The eleventh."

"Ah. Right."

"Why?"

"No reason. I just have some things to do soon."

"Uh huh." He returns to his work and says nothing more. He won't bait you like you hoped. Fucker. He is too smart for his own good.

_____________________

You try again to get him to say something about Valentine's day. This time you decide to mention the roses you saw at the store during your shopping trip.

"There were orange roses at the store. They were beautiful, unlike anything I've seen. I didn't even know that orange was an option."

"Uh huh."

"I should have gotten them." You sigh, placing the last box of lo-carb pasta into the cabinet over the counter. "I don't know why I didn't."

Nathan leans on the counter and folds his arms. "What's your point?"

"Huh?"

"What's your point of all this? You want something for Valentine's Day?"

"It'd be nice." You shrug and turn to face him. "I know it's stupid and cliché. That you should love your spouse or partner every day of the year but-"

Nathan's hard stare stops you dead in your tracks. "Go on?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Yeah." He pushes away from the counter. "I thought so. I'll be boxing if you need me."

You lean on the counter, head in your hands. That didn't go as well as you hoped. Why does he have to be so fucking stubborn and difficult and hard headed. He's such a dick sometimes. God if you didn't see past all that shit you would never have fallen for him. But you did, and you got to the soft gooey center and fell in love with the man in the middle. Well. It'll be another year of treating yourself to the day after candy sales. Yipee.

_____________________

Sunday. Valentine's day. You wake up in your bed, the soft lights coming up along the walls to signify it's morning in the subterranean room. You didn't sleep with Nathan last night. The feeling of being unwanted was strong after the conversation about the roses, you knew how to catch a hint. The bed is warm, and you don't want to get up. Somehow you had convinced yourself you could get Nathan to do something for you. That you could get into his head and plant the idea that maybe you'd like a gift for the first time in two years. Well, one year of being together as a couple and two of living with him. What a ridiculous thing to lie to yourself about.

Against your better judgement you get up. Your bladder is screaming, threatening to pop and you aren't about to ignore it. After reliving yourself you're fully awake and you decide to go make some food.

The second you open the door to the bedroom you're caught off guard. The lights in the hall are red, like the emergency back up lights. You glance back into your room and it's normal. Had something happened in the night? Was the house supposed to be on lockdown?

"Nathan!" You call out, peering up and down the hall. "Is something broken?!"

You look around once more. Should you go back into the bedroom? Maybe something has gone wrong. You slip back in and grab the bat that Nathan left for you ages ago. All the note attached to it back then said was that in case of emergencies, swing first ask questions later.

There is no sign of anything wrong as you walk down the hall toward the living areas. Everything is quiet and the doors are not on lock down like the security lights may seem to portray. At the entryway to the kitchen there are rose petals on the ground. Orange rose petals. Your heart stops.

"Nathan? Where are you?" You peek into the kitchen and on the table is a bowl of fruit, pancakes, and a clear cup with iced coffee in it. Your favorite treat is this exact coffee when you go into the city. "Nathan?"

With no reply you grab the cup and carry it with you as you follow the trail of petals to the living room. You drop the bat at the sight of what you can only guess to be about two hundred roses in the living room. All of them orange and white. Every surface is covered in bouquets. There are little heart boxes all over the coffee table and a blanket on the couch with a heart on it, a heart shaped pillow and even some sultry music playing. It's suffocating-ly Valentine's Day. You must be dreaming.

Hands come up and cover your eyes and you know it's Nathan. There is no one else it could be. But his body is familiar, his warmth, those hands. "Hey, Kitten."

"Guess who?" You chuckle and he presses a kiss to your head.

"No, I know you know the touch of a God."

You smack his leg and he chuckles. He lowers his hands and wraps his arms around your chest instead, tucking his face into your neck. "What is all this?"

"It's roses, and chocolate and heart shaped shit. All the cliché things you have been dying to receive." He kisses your neck and gives you a little bite. "I knew you wanted something. So I got you everything."

"Maybe I tried to hint at it."

"Mmhmm. I caught on right away." He reaches down and takes your iced coffee. "I went through so much to get all these. And this," he holds the straw to your lips. "This was the hardest part."

You take a sip and it's perfect. "How? The flight is 2 hours in. How did you do this?"

"Cargo helicopter."

"The drink?"

"I had them make it, take the ice out and I kept the ice in a cooler next to the drink so it wouldn't get watered down. It was a whole process."

You turn in his hold and kiss him softly. "I know you hate Valentine's Day. Thank you."

"I do.” He holds your face, kissing your nose. “But I love you more."

end

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Header by delicate-venus

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you read or enjoyed and support content creators like myself - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman fic #ex machina fic #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac characters

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spilledkauffie · 4 years

Text

The Nights You’re Gone

Repost from an old account I deleted!!

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) x reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: little argument then fluff! A/N: This is what I get for watching BvS again!

Turning over, the silky sheets slipped against your frame, in motion with your movement effortlessly. Taking a deep breath, almost meditational to your thoughts, the scent of your lover’s cologne was faint, but just evident enough for you to miss him. Unsure of what time it was, you knew it was late, or early rather. Glancing over your shoulder, darkness was still displayed outside the glass windows of the bedroom. No wonder he was gone. Nightfall through the early morning were his waking and working hours. Yet somehow he managed an entire enterprise, with hardly any sleep. It was both impressive and heartbreaking to you that he never seemed to have a moment of quiet or calm, you

The subtle, distant sounds of sirens that always seemed to haunt Gotham prompted you to get up, there wasn’t going to be any sleep gained with your mind in a whirlwind of worry. Picking up one of Bruce’s dress shirts, laying over the back of a chair, you buttoned it to mostly cover your body. Hugging yourself in it as you walked out of the bedroom, the sleeves were far too long and came well passed your wrists, the bottom hem fell about mid thigh, making you appropriate enough. Hoping Alfred had decided to stop by early, you sighed, truly disheartened when you found the kitchen bar and table with only empty chairs occupying them. When you worried, Alfred always knew what to say to make you feel better, but you knew you had to face the reality sooner or later.

Reaching a mug from the kitchen cabinet, you made yourself coffee, hoping it would wake you up out of your troubled state. Adding a bit of milk to the caffeinated drink, you sat at the bar. Facing the wide glass windows, a beautiful view of the lake displayed, it was still dark, but you could hear the gentle sound of the water and see silver shapes from the moon’s light dancing atop the waves. Propping your feet up on the footrest of the chair in front of you, you set the coffee cup on your knees, curling up to yourself at its warmth. You felt slightly ridiculous, as you waited for morning’s light. Anticipating a very different sight than just a sunrise before day break. You couldn’t remember if you had dozed off a few times or not, if so, it wasn’t for long and you took another sip of your coffee just in time to spot a familiar sight.

Morning was on the horizon, sunlight peeking barely over the trees across the lake, and through them came a noise similar to that of a sports car, but much more intense and intimidating. Whitish-blue headlights and a black, armoured exterior broke through the trees, the middle of the lake opened like a trap door for the Dark Knight to escape from the revealing light. Within seconds, everything returned to normal with now crashing waves subsiding to stillness on the lake’s surface. Looking down, you rubbed your thumbs against the warm cup in your hands. Knowing what was to come.

It was still some time before you saw Bruce. When you finally did, he didn’t exactly seem happy to see you. Jogging up the stairs, from the lower level, which held an entrance to the cave, Bruce quickly turned the corner headed for the bedroom, but paused once his eyes found you already in the kitchen. You shifted your glance away from him, perhaps from intimidation under his gaze. He hated feeling like he was the cause for keeping you up. Turning away, you attempted to hold yourself together. So much was on your mind, but you weren’t sure to say it or not.

You missed him, you were scared, you wanted to know if he was okay, what did the sirens mean?

“You made coffee?” Bruce asked, standing on the opposite side of the counter as you.

Looking back at him, ‘that was his first question?’ “Yeah,” you answered, “I did.”

Furrowing your eyebrows and biting the inside of your lip, you felt your chest tightening; you were holding back. You wanted to ask where he went this time or if he had been hurt, but he often diverted the questions with either silence or his suave charm. Already knowing his secret, you didn’t expect him to tell you everything, but you needed to know if he was going to come back home to you again. Shaking your head, you sniffled subtly, not enough to be noticed for the true emotions you felt.

Eying you over, Bruce could tell you were upset, but as he often did, he interpreted it the wrong way “You look tired. You should’ve waited for Alfred. I’ve told you not to wait up for me.”

“I didn’t,” you responded, taking a deep breath, staring into the dark, now cold coffee.

“Really? That’s why you’re up at four a.m.?” he set his hands firmly on the counter, slightly startling you, “I know you might not like me for-”

“That’s not it, Bruce,” you lifted your head, answering with a stern, frustrated voice.

Surprised at your hostile tone, he tilted his head as if asking ‘really?’ again, questioning the sudden attitude you took. You felt like a child now and if you showed any more real emotion you were certain you would be seen as one.. Sighing, you set the coffee on the counter, twisted your fingers in your lap for a moment and gave him one last look. He still didn’t understand, he only wanted to know why you seemed so aggressive when he had just returned, thinking nothing of how it hurt you that he left at all.

“I can’t do this right now,” you said, sliding off the barstool and heading for the bedroom once again, really a place to hide or cry, most likely both.

“Hey,” Bruce called after you, following you when you ignored him, “hey!”

Gathering yourself, you heard him come through the doorway, never giving up a fight. Closing your eyes, you kept your back to him, not ready to face him with all the emotions rushing through your mind like a vortex. Did he know how many nights you laid awake, left only to hope he’d come home. Or how you knew he was a man fighting amongst gods. His bruises and breaks were more than you could take sometimes even when he claimed he was fine.

“What’s gotten into you? I just came back,” Bruce tried to defend himself, “all I said was don’t wait up for-”

“I’m not!” You held your hands out turning to face him tensely, “I can’t sleep!” You confessed, feeling you heart race, and hands shake, but you continued, “the nights you’re gone I always worry that you’ll never come home, that you’ll be taken from me, that you’ll push yourself too far. I don’t know...I’m scared that- that I’ll be left to sleep every night alone.”

Your breath hitched at your last sentence, just the thought made you both anxious and emotional. With a sharp gasp for air, you covered your mouth with your hand, and closed your eyes not wanting to see his reaction to you. Bruce, seeing you so open and vulnerable, only made him realise just how much he needed to come home.

“Hey,” his tone became a much more comforting one, as his hands slid against the sides of your arms.

Turning to face him, you noticed the proximity of your lover, and found solace in it. Burying your tears against his chest, hands clinging onto him, you held nothing back. Far too often you were left alone to cry, but now that he was here, you never wanted him to leave you. Confessing everything to him, you hiccuped. Rubbing your back gently, he had to admit he missed holding you. Feeling you cling to him made him feel needed in an entirely different regard to the Bat facade.

Crying subsiding, you pulled back. Sniffling and wiping away your own tears, you kept your gaze down, unsure of what was to come or what you should say. His hand continued to stroke softly up and down your back, but the other came to brush against the side of your cheek with the back of his hand then with his thumb, swiping away a tear. Such a tender moment from him made you take a deep breath, allowing you to take in the moment.

“I’m okay,” Bruce finally spoke, breaking the silence, “I promise. The bruises will heal.”

“I-I know,” you sighed, “I just- I really worry. The nights you’re gone are so hard.”

A subtle smile pulled at his lips as you looked up through your damp eyelashes, “as long as you’re here, I have a reason, and a responsibility, to come home. And I don’t plan on failing you.”

Smiling softly, you nodded, resting your head against his chest, sliding your arms around his frame. Slipping your hands up the back of his shirt, you heard him wince at the pressure of your fingertips. Biting your lip, your heart hurt.

“That bad?” You furrowed your eyebrows together with concern.

“I’m fine,” Bruce played it off, smiling at how sweet you were, yet how much you worried, “is that my shirt? Looks pretty good on you, I gotta say.”

“Bruce,” you shook your head at his promiscuous tone, “you need sleep, we both do.”

Chuckling at your sudden commanding tone, he looked you over. You were beautiful. You were his and he knew he hated to see you cry and actually being the source of it was worse. You always gave a smile when you saw him off and gave a welcoming hug when he came home; it was the best way to deal with a hero. But tonight, tonight was the expression needed between a normal relationship, he promised he would be for you when you needed him, as you promised to hold his secrets.

“Alright,” he agreed, as you pulled back from him he flashed a signature Wayne smirk, “ I get it, you wanna sleep with me.”

With a head tilt and a ridiculous smile, you couldn’t deny it. That damn charm he had. Lifting you up only to set you down on the bed, Bruce made sure to return his shirt you had on to its rightful place: off you and on the floor. Tossing under the sheets, you found your worries leaving and love returning. Smiling, giggling and moaning you were left lying breathless with a smile.

“I may never understand your rhyme or reason, Mr. Wayne,” you lingeringly kissed the base of his neck, “just promise you’ll come home to me.”

Bruce held you protectively, watching you fall asleep in his arms. Sleep never came so easy to him, he felt a need to stay up, to watch over you. Perhaps he was paranoid harm would find you if he didn’t, it seemed to follow him everywhere after all. He never wanted it to find you, his only glimmer of hope and love, in the dark world he knew too well.

“I promise.” Bruce said quietly to himself, kissing your temple.

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august-anon · 4 years

Text

LERning New Things About Ourselves -- Pineapple’s Fics!

Note From August: With Pineapple taking a break from tumblr until she’s an adult, I will be hosting her fic on my blog for the time being. You can find them under tags like pineapple fics and pineapple writing. Once she is back, they will be deleted from my blog and reposted to her own. Thanks for being understanding to her during this time! Don’t forget to show her your love!

Word Count: 9111 words

Characters: lee!Virgil, ler!Roman

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Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the maliciously coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It all started on that fateful day when Virgil Anthony decided to post an ad for a new roommate. His previous roommates, Patton and Logan each got married and moved away, leaving Virgil with an empty apartment and no friends.

He was surprisingly content with that reality had it not been for a silly little thing called “rent” that incessantly found itself worming its way into Virgil’s life, and grew impressively large throughout the months. So, deciding he wished to eat this month, he begrudgingly settled on posting a chipper little advertisement on their community college’s website requesting a new roommate, provided they could come up with $450 a month. Weeks passed by and he was starting to lose hope until finally, he got a reply. After a quick online interview, he found himself with a new roommate. Before Virgil knew it, it was moving day.

And that was when he met Roman Prince. Roman was… eccentric.. to say the least, but despite their slightly awkward interview, Virgil knew he was the one. And maybe it helped that he made twice what Virgil made in a week, and brought with him a flatscreen TV and a Switch. Just a little.

“Ahh! Hello!” greeted the man as he set down his suitcase on the steps leading to the apartment. “You must be Virgil!” He stuck out the newly freed hand to shake Virgil’s. Virgil accepted.

“Hey, dude. Yeah, and you must be Roman,” he acknowledged with a smile. “Do you need help with your stuff?”

Roman waved his hand. “Nah, a couple of buddies of mine are coming by later to help me. For now, it’s just me and my suitcase,” he answered, pointing to the suitcase he left by the staircase. Virgil nodded.

“Okay, cool. Well, why don’t you come in, and we can chat.” Virgil wrung his hands slightly as he spoke, his nerves lit up from the social anxiety. He was trying his best to be friendly and not scare this guy off. Fortunately, Roman seemed to do most of the talking for the both of them. Only a couple hours in, the two found themselves seated on the sofa, sipping wine, and getting to know each other. Well, it was mostly Virgil getting to know Roman.

“So, how long have you lived in Cheyenne?” Virgil asked him.

“About three years now! We moved right after I graduated highschool, my parents grew up here, and I decided to go to college here too,” he answered, pointing to the east side of the apartment in the direction of the community college.

Virgil smiled. “That’s nice you all can live in the same area. You get along with your family well, I take it?”

Roman bobbed his head. “Oh yeah. I’m an only child, and it’s safe to say they spoiled me,” he chuckled, and Virgil joined him. Roman shrugged, smiling wryly. “I mean, I’m sure you figured that out considering no sibling should ever feel this confident,” he joked.

Virgil snickered. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Coming from a kid with three older brothers, I know.” He poured some more red wine into both of their glasses. “So, where do you work?” he inquired, ignoring the urge to ask where he makes so much money,

“I work at the bar across the street, Rattlesnake Juice Bar. I’m the manager,” Roman said, bringing the glass up to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Wow, that’s impressive! Normally at twenty-one, employers don't offer management positions at bars,” commented Virgil, sipping his own drink. Roman swallowed his drink and shrugged.

“I guess it was because I had some experience, you know? I’ve been in management since I was seventeen.” Virgil nodded his head with a smile.

“Yeah, that’d do it,” he chuckled. Virgil shifted so he sat on his knees. “So, are you going to do management for a major?” he asked.

Roman shook his head. “No, actually, although it’d probably be a better career plan. Instead, I’m majoring in Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing.” Virgil brought the glass up to his lips, preparing to drink again.

“Oh wow, that’s cool. What do you like to write?”

“Tickle fanfiction.”

Virgil coughed violently, and spit the wine he just had in his mouth onto his shirt. Roman’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh, oh my gosh, are you alright?” he asked, hurriedly grabbing paper towels and handing them to the still sputtering man. Virgil snapped back to reality and finally noticed the spill.

“Oh, for heavens’ sake-“ he muttered, graciously accepting the towels and dabbing at his shirt. Roman furrowed his eyebrows as he helped Virgil clean up.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, his voice laced in genuine concern. Virgil looked up at him for a moment and examined his eyes for any signs of malfeasance. Nothing.

“Um, yeah, I-“ he coughed again, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Yeah, I just, you know, went down the wrong pipe,” he stuttered, gesturing vaguely to his throat. Roman nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, that happens to me all the time. Are you sure you’re good?”

Virgil nodded a bit too earnestly as he got up to go throw away the wine-soaked paper towels. Once safely in the kitchen, he refocused his breathing and tried to calm his beating heart. It was a good thing too, because as soon as he returned, Roman continued the conversation right back up where it had left off.

Virgil barely had time to sit down before Roman began speaking again. “Yeah, so anyways, back to our conversation, I write tickle fanfiction,” he explained with a smile. “It’s super fun. I have quite the following on Tumblr too! Over three hundred followers and they're growing by the minute!” Roman raved. Virgil just started in utter disbelief.

“Oh, well. That’s, uh, cool.”

Roman’s face lit up in excitement. “I take it you know what tickle fanfiction is?” he asked eagerly.

Virgil’s face heated to a thousand degrees. “No! I-I mean, no, not really. I just, I was being supportive. Yeah.” Virgil cringed at how painfully obvious he was being. This guy had to know his slip up. At least he clearly didn’t have to worry about being judged with Roman. But alarmingly, Roman actually appeared to believe him.

“Oh! Well, it’s the coolest thing. Basically-“ he paused for a moment. “Hm, actually, I guess the best way to explain is to start at the very beginning!”

And there Virgil sat, for an entire hour, as he listened to Roman in great explicit detail explain every aspect of the fixation of tickling, the community he was in, and everything he wrote about without a single stutter or slip up. And Virgil listened the whole way through, flinching at the subconscious wiggling of fingers as Roman discussed teases, and thanking whoever the genius inventor of foundation was, for it was the only thing keeping him from blinding his new roommate with the power of his flush as Roman described lees and lers.

Virgil also found out that apparently Roman was a ler. How…interesting.

Finally, mercifully, Roman stopped talking. “Oh goodness,” he laughed. “I’ve been talking for almost an hour, haven’t I!”

Exactly fifty-six minutes, thought Virgil.

“Sorry, I just get really excited and passionate about tickling and writing! Writing is my biggest hobby, and I love it so much. I try to be in touch with all my followers too, you know? I message back to anyone who messages me first, and reply to comments when I can.”

“Um, yeah. Well, I, uh, better throw this shirt in the wash,” Virgil interjected, leaping from the couch and scurrying out of the room.

Roman stared, watching his roommate in confusion, but ultimately shrugged it off and went to go find his new room.

It had been a week since the incident, and frankly, Virgil had not fully recovered yet. He didn’t even know how to begin to process the fact that a proud, confident ler was now living with him. He desperately wanted to know what Roman’s Tumblr account was to see if he could follow him. But discreetly of course, because even though Roman may be secure and confident in his quirk, Virgil was not, and that was just how it was. It would be easy, right? Just ignore him when he talks about it. Virgil was sure Roman was probably used to it.

Later that afternoon, Virgil was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and was intensely scrolling through Tumblr on his phone trying to find Roman’s blog, when the man in question walked into the room.

Virgil all but threw his phone across the room in a panic when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. He spun around. “Uh, y-yes?” he asked, closing his eyes in an attempt to slow his pounding heart rate. Roman didn’t seem to notice the odd behavior.

“Hey, Virge! So, you’re an English major, right?” He pulled up a chair at the dining room table and sat down. Virgil nodded, happy for the change of conversation.

“Yep. Whatcha need?”

Roman pulled out his phone and scrolled for a bit before handing it over to Virgil. “Do you mind proofreading this for any grammar or spelling errors?”

Virgil nodded and accepted the phone, squinting to try and read the tiny print. This wasn’t uncommon for Virgil. Many of his acquaintances often asked Virgil to proofread their emails and letters to bosses and businesses. It wasn’t until a few seconds of staring until he noticed.

It was a tickle fic. Virgil’s face blossomed into a bright red, as he glanced up at Roman who was sitting stone faced and calm.

“What-” he cleared his throat, “What is this?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

Roman tilted his head. “One of my fics! I’m not the best with grammar, and I was really hoping you could help me edit. You know, as a writing major I really want to get better,” he responded with a smile. Virgil took a shaky breath. No, this was fine. Completely and totally fine. He was just reading a fic in the direct presence of a ler, and then giving him pointers on how to make it better.

“Well, um, you could, maybe, reword this better,” he finally said after a minute.

“What part?”

Virgil pointed to a sentence on the screen. “That one.”

Roman looked at him and giggled. “Virge, do you really think I can see that? Just read it to me, silly.”

Virgil’s face felt like it was on fire. “Oh, um. Okay. So you w-wrote, ‘He laughed, squirming all over the bed, as Chuni followed him, massaging his r-ribs.’ Yeah?” He glanced up at Roman to see him listening intently. Oh, this was hard. “Um, so, to make it flow better you can reword it slightly by changing, changing the order.” He cleared his throat again. “For example, ‘He laughed and squirmed all over the bed and Chuni followed him, m-massaging his ribs.’ Does that, um, make sense?” he clarified.

Roman smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it does! Thanks! Anything else?” Virgil shut his eyes in an attempt to control his breathing.

“Well you, um, spelt t-tormenting wrong,” he grimaced. Roman leaned over.

“Oh did I?” Virgil nodded, propping his head up on his arm in a weak attempt to hide his face. “Can you go over the rest with me?”

Virgil pinched his arm. “Yep, sure thing,” he squeaked.

That was by the longest afternoon of his young adult life. But if he thought that was bad, nothing compared to what happened a month later.

Virgil had still not yet found Roman’s blog, and he kicked himself for not checking to see what the title of the one fic he proofread was so he could search it up later. Regardless, he was still very closeted in his secret fantasy, and somehow managed to keep his cool throughout the many conversations where Roman brought up his ler moods, and writings, and such.

“Virgil!” exclaimed Roman, bursting into the room. Virgil jumped slightly from his seat on the couch, nearly dropping his phone.

“Um, yes?” He turned to see Roman holding a ukulele. “Why do you have a ukulele?”

Roman smiled excitedly. “Well, so you know how I talk about teases, right? How they’re essential to the wreckage of a lee?” Virgil forcefully shoved the embarrassment panic creeping up down his throat. “Well, I thought how cool it’d be, as a new type of tease, to write song parodies of nursery rhymes, but make them tickle related!”

Virgil’s stomach twisted in a pleasant coil as he sat in complete shock. Surely not. “I, uh-“

“You wanna hear some?” he asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on his toes. Virgil continued to ogle as he begged his

voice to work.

“Um, s-sure,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking at the end.

Roman beamed. “Perfect! Okay, so you know the song Tiny Tim, right?”

Virgil coughed. “T-the turtle song?” Roman nodded.

“Yep! But I changed it.” He did a strum of the ukulele before beginning to play the catchy tune. “I have a little feather,” he sang out, his voice ringing out with the chords of the instrument. “His name is Tiny Tim, I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin!” Virgil blanched at the teasing lilt in his voice. “I drank up all his laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered, his smile oh so real!”

Roman finished the song and looked at Virgil expectantly. Unfortunately, at that moment Virgil’s voice decided to duck out and leave him. Roman giggled at him. “Are you speechless at my talent or something?”

Virgil, horrified, frantically willed the embarrassment away as he finally found his voice. “Oh, no, sorry. Uh, yeah no. It was good. Good,” he took a breath while rubbing the back of his neck. “Job. Yeah,” he finished lamely.

Roman pumped his fists in excitement. “Yessss! I was super proud of it! You wanna hear another one?” Rather than wait for a response, he strummed the ukulele again. “Oh, so this tease requires a specific name for it. Do you mind if I just use yours?”

Virgil swore he was going to have a stroke.

“Oh I know a little lee,” he sang, this time playing a new tune. “His name is Wiggle Virgey,” he paused his singing to look at him. “Adding y’s at the end of names makes it teasy,” he explained.

Virgil said nothing.

“He is so very nice, but oh he is so giggly, and so goes his arms, and his arms go like so, and his arms are always so-oh-oh!”

Yep. Virgil was going to die.

After two more verses, Roman finally finished his song and Virgil was all but willing to sell both his kidneys to disappear from this conversation.

“So, what did you think? That one isn’t my best, but I liked it!” Roman commented nonchalantly.

Virgil simply stared and nodded. Roman furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Virgil blinked. “YeAh, why?” His voice cracked as he tried to speak. He quickly coughed to cover it up.

“I don’t know, you just seem sick or something. You’ve been coughing an awful lot. Your face is like bright red and you’ve been oddly quiet,” said Roman. That only made Virgil blush even more.

“No, yeah, no I’m fine,” he answered, waving him off. “Yeah, but I really gotta go work on, um that thing, for school, see ya around.” And with that, Virgil darted out of the room for the second time, leaving Roman standing alone in utter bewilderment.

Virgil had done his very best to avoid Roman after the whole tease incident, which was difficult considering they lived under the same roof. And even worse considering Roman was the most oblivious guy on the planet.

Virgil was in bed, scrolling through Tumblr on his phone, when he saw another post from his favorite writer, TheLeringPrince. He felt his lee mood spike as he saw it was a new tease post. Eagerly, he tapped the post and began to read. Slowly as he read though, something seemed off. The tease post was various nursery rhymes all modified to fit into the theme of tickling. And Tiny Tim was one of them.

Virgil’s heart began to race and his mind started spinning as he hurriedly tried to calm himself down. “No, Virgil,” he breathed out. “No, it’s just a coincidence. Roman probably stole it from this guy or maybe just thought of the same idea.” Ironically, he found himself wishing his roommate was a thief who stole credit from his favorite Tumblr user’s work, rather than admit that Roman was said favorite Tumblr user.

But right at the bottom of the post, there was a little bold sentence that truly made Virgil’s heart stop.

‘And many of you have been wondering about my sudden improvement in my grammar and spelling. Well, you can thank my brand new roommate for helping me proofread all my new fics and teases!’

What was Virgil’s luck? Of all the people on this planet of seven billion, he gets a roommate who, not only is a confident and charismatic ler who happily reads his teases and fics to Virgil, but is also the specific ler that Virgil had been daydreaming about being destroyed by for years.

Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug whoever ordained this or punch them.

Virgil contemplated it for a while before finally deciding to tell his anxiety to hit the road, and take this glorious opportunity by the horns. So with a deep breath, he clicked on TheLeringPrince’s profile, then DM’s, then opened his keypad.

Immenslee_Ticklish: Hey, just wanted to say that I really like your stuff, and that you seem like a pretty cool dude. Would you want to chat sometime?’

Immediately, he received a reply.

TheLeringPrince: Why thank you, Immenslee. And yes, I would love to chat ;)

Days went by, and Roman and Virgil were talking through their blogs constantly. Roman had taken to teasing Virgil quite thoroughly on the platform, and Virgil obviously ate it up. Roman even mentioned wanting to meet up sometime. Virgil would be lying if he said he didn't nearly pass out at that.

Of course they still talked in real life, only Roman didn’t know who Virgil was. Oddly enough, Virgil almost felt safer talking to his Tumblr handle rather than to him in real life. He had to laugh at that. Six months ago, Virgil would have fainted at the idea of living with his favorite ler. And now, here he was, finally having something to satiate his ever present, insatiable lee mood! And he was hiding.

He just wasn’t sure how to tell him! Leave his Tumblr open? Text him? Tell him through Tumblr DMs? For goodness’ sake, what was he so afraid of? This guy was clearly accepting and non judgmental about the whole thing. Most people would kill to be in this position. Well, most lees anyways.

Little did Virgil know, but Roman was already pretty suspicious. He didn’t have any evidence of the fact, but he was pretty certain that Virgil had to have some lee in him somewhere. His blush and stutters were getting increasingly obvious and even though Roman could be an idiot, he wasn’t stupid. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he did, there was nothing stopping him. Except of course, if Virgil for some reason just didn’t want to be tickled. That was fine too. But there was something in him that made Roman sincerely doubt that was the case.

Roman had never had a problem about being open with his fixation. He figured that if people were going to judge him based on a silly little liking, then they weren’t worth being in his life. He could understand why some people hid it, sure. It was scary to be so open about something other people found weird. But Roman just never had that fear.

But one day, Roman got a message. It was from a follower named Immenslee_Ticklish. Now Roman recognized this user, as they often commented, liked, and reblogged alot of his works. They were great fans, and apparently very much lee themselves. And all of a sudden, after two whole years of following Roman, they decide to message him.

Interesting.

But Roman ultimately decided to keep quiet about his suspicions because if Virgil wasn’t saying anything, then he didn’t want Roman to know. And Roman respected that. Even if he really wanted to tickle him.

Turns out he didn’t have to wait much longer.

Virgil had practiced it for weeks. He knew exactly what to say, and how he was going to say it. But that all flew out the window as he stared at Roman.

“Virgil, buddy, you’ve been staring at me for three minutes now,” commented Roman, raising an eyebrow at the man in question. “You came to tell me something.” Virgil inhaled deeply and tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Roman gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey, it’s okay. No need to be scared.” Virgil just stared at him. Roman’s heart broke for this kid, who was obviously scared out of his mind. “I promise I’m not going to be upset, or judge you, or do whatever your pretty little head is thinking might happen.

“I’mImenseleeTicklish!” he spat out suddenly. Roman jumped in surprise, but as soon as it hit him, he grinned.

“Oh, are you now?” he hummed, a sly smile watching the flustered boy with great amusement.

“Wait, no, I meant like the username. I’m the user Immenslee_Ticklish. I didn’t mean it like I’m immensely ticklish, well, I might be, but-“

Roman’s amused look caused him to stop talking. “So, yes?”

Virgil nodded. “I’m, uh, I’m a lee. Yeah.” The two of them stared at each other, neither one breaking the deafening silence or the intense eye contact.

“Well that’s very valuable information,” Roman stated calmly, being the first to speak, and before walking away and into the kitchen.

Wait?! Before walking away?!

Virgil’s mouth dropped open as he watched Roman walk off. “Wait!” he called indignantly. Roman paused, smirking away from Virgil.

“Yes?”

Virgil just stared for a minute, waving his arms dramatically as if it would help him speak. “Aren’t you going to, um, do something?”

Roman turned around to face him, as Virgil paled at seeing Roman smile darkly at him. “Like what?”

Realization hit him like a truck, and Virgil gaped in absolute horror. He was going to make him ask, wasn’t he? Oh, this was mean. So, so, so mean.

But at this point the lee mood was so bad that his dignity was going to have to leave him.

“I- were you, um,” he covered his face with his hands. “Were you gonna tickle me?”

He could hear Roman’s evil grin. “Do you want me to?”

“Um, yes. Please.” He swallowed harshly.

Roman clapped. “Why look at those manners!” he praised, gleaming at the whining boy in the living room. “I would love to. But to be clear, what exactly do you want to happen?”

“W-What do you mean?” Virgil asked, peeking from behind his hands.

“Tell me exactly what you want for me to do. In explicit detail, or I won’t do any of it,” cooed Roman.

“You’re so mean,” Virgil whined into his hands again. Roman laughed at his expense.

“I’m waiting~”

Virgil glared at him through his hands. “I want you to wreck me and tease me and destroy my resolve, and I want you to do it now! Please.” He added, lest he be made to repeat his request in a more polite manner. Roman reeled back, a tad surprised at the direct request.

“Well, good for you. I’d be happy to,” he nodded, impressed. “Very well. Meet me in your room in ten minutes~” he teased with a wink.

After he left, Virgil let it sink in. He was about to be ruthlessly teased and broken by his ler idol in ten minutes.

Oh he was going to die.

Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the malicious coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?” Roman’s voice lowered significantly into a husky tone that sent shivers down Virgil’s spine. He tugged on his restraints, waves of excitement and panic flooding his body, and feeding his lee mood from before. He had waited years. Years and years and years for this day. To be in this position, and about to get wrecked into oblivion. He had no idea what Roman was going to do, but he was excitedly terrified.

Roman took a single finger and began aimlessly swirling around Virgil’s belly, going in zigzag patterns, curlicues, and idle shapes while he rested his head on Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s breath hitched, the gentle touches not quite tickling, but was setting an amazing precedent for what was about to take place. Roman let out a deep breath, purposely aiming it for Virgil’s neck, rewarding him with a satisfying squeal as the man scrunched up his shoulders as much as he could.

“I have a dilemma, Virgil,” sighed Roman melodramatically. “I feel like, since you’ve waited all this time for some expert ler to completely wreck you, destroy you, and undo your very resolve, that you ought to have a good experience, hm?” he commented, glancing up to look at Virgil’s wobbly smile. “I mean you’ve been so patient! It’d feel criminal to deprive you of the best possible experience. Don’t you agree?” He paused, waiting for a reply while still mindlessly twisting his finger on the pale expanse of skin, but all Virgil did was squeak softly in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Roman snapped his fingers, causing Virgil to flinch slightly. “I’ve got it!” he announced, smiling darkly. “Let’s let you choose.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in pure horror. “What?”

“Why choose your own teases, of course! Who better knows exactly how to tease and fluster you, and turn you into a giggling blushy pile of goo then yourself?” Roman enunciated his point with a few teasing pokes to his chest. Virgil squirmed in an attempt to get the pokes to hit his stomach but he had no such luck. “So, Giggles, you want to try it?”

Virgil bit his lip and bounced his legs anxiously. “No!” he whined, his wobbly smile growing by the minute.

Roman grinned. “No? But it’s like a choose your own adventure! You choose your own teases and tools! Won’t that be fun?” Virgil shook his head violently. Roman mock pouted. “But I think it will be fun!”

Virgil made a strangled guttural sound in reply. “I-“

“Yes, dear,” he urged, resting his chin on Virgil’s chest once again.

Virgil sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. “I-I can’t tease,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I can’t tease!” he repeated, only slightly louder this time. Fortunately, Roman heard him.

“Oh well, that’s not a problem, silly. You aren’t saying the teases. I am!” he replied with a smirk. Virgil peaked one eye open.

“But I thought you said-“

“Oh, I know what I said,” he answered, cutting Virgil off. “No, I already know what teases you chose. You don’t have to say a word.” To Virgil's confusion, he pulled out his phone. It wasn’t until Roman started scrolling and grinning that Virgil’s eyes widened in panicked realization.

“No, no, no, NO!” Virgil called out, bouncing in anticipation. He tried lunging for the phone but his bonds held him back.

Roman pretended not to hear him. “Hm, let’s see. Posts, then notes, then-“ Roman grinned up at Virgil. “Ah yes, reblogged by Immenselee_ticklish! Oh, look there’s a comment too!”

“No! No, don’t read the comment!”

“It says, ‘Ahhhh!! Oh gosh, I’m blushing so hard!!’ Hold up.” Roman turned to look up at Virgil who was fire engine red. He smirked. “Would you look at that. Anyway, it continues to say, ‘I would die if anyone said this to me!’ And then there’s a blushing face.”

He smirked again as he faced Virgil. “So, would you say you’ve died?” Virgil whined longingly. Roman nodded while looking back at his phone. “I’d say yes.”

Roman continued to scroll only for his eyes to light up in delight. “Oh looky here!” Virgil slammed his eyes shut, not daring to.

“No, no, no, no.”

“Virgil look! It’s a gif! Oh wow.”

Oh yeah. Virgil definitely wasn’t going to look. He was strong, he was resilient, and nothing could break him!

“Aww and they’re getting their bellybutton tickled! Isn’t that your most favorite spot in the whole wide world?”

Um, yeah. It was easy, mind over matter. He wouldn’t look. Easy.

“Hey! And it’s your best friend! Mr. Toothbrush!”

Yeah, he... What was he saying?

“Roman, please,” he begged, eyes still clamped shut. The endless teases were killing him. His ever present lee mood had grown into a ravenous monster that he thought would never be satiated. His body screamed for tickles. It was more than a want, or even a craving. It was a need at this point. And Roman knew that and it only fueled his evil ler facade all the more.

“Aw, poor baby. Don’t worry, we’ll start soon,” he cooed.

Roman made Virgil lie there, flustered and helpless, and oh so terribly lee, and wait as he read out tease after tease that Virgil reblogged from his Tumblr, and even read the comments from the lee himself. Virgil wished with every second of every minute spent lying on that bed he had never made that Tumblr account.

After ten or so teases, Roman finally, mercifully, put the phone away. Virgil sighed in relief. Finally! He was going to be tickled to his limits, then past them, then have them pushed even further. He didn’t just want to be broken. He didn’t just want to be destroyed. No, he wanted so much more.

Roman marched up to the table and placed both hands on Virgil’s thighs. “So, a little birdie told me you like baby talk,” he teased. Virgil blushed, which Roman took for a yes. “So would a, oh I don’t know, little kitchy, kitchy, coo would get you all flustered, hm? A little-“ his voice dropped an octave. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~” his face morphed to a maniacal grin.

Virgil's face turned crimson as he wiggled around on the table. “Noho!” He barked out a laugh. Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“No? Hmm. What about nursery rhymes, huh? You sure liked the ones I sang to you earlier this month! Do you want to hear some of those? ‘Cause I got some good ones~” Roman whipped out a feather seemingly out of nowhere and waved it teasingly in front of Virgil��s nose. Virgil yelped at the sensation.

“I have a little feather,” sang out Roman, his voice rising and falling with the feather. “His name is Tiny Tim. I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin.” He winked at Virgil who just blushed deeper. “I drank up all the laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered,” Another wink. “His smile is so real.”

Virgil was already softly giggling at the song, and it only encouraged Roman to keep going. “You got a little giggle button, right? I have another fun song, just. for. him!” he cheered, punctuating each word with a poke to his bellybutton, making Virgil squeal each time.

He took the feather and ran it in a large teasy circle all around the vast expanse of vulnerable tummy. “Ring around the belly, a button full of jelly,” he heard Virgil snort when the feathers hit a particular spot on his waistline. “-tickle, tickle, they all fall down!” Roman ended the verse with several flicks of the fluffy feather to Virgil’s bellybutton, causing him to buck and laugh, but it was still technically soft tickles. Virgil didn’t want soft tickles right now.

“Rohohoho,” he whined through the giggles. Roman ignored him.

“Let’s see. Oh, here’s another favorite of mine!” He cleared his throat and lifted the feather again. “Oh head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes! Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes~” He ran the feather all over the respective places, and it didn’t tickle much, but Roman’s plan was working. Virgil was getting more and more flustered, and more and more ticklish.

“Oh feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins. Feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins~” Roman watched in glee as Virgil’s face turned darker and darker with each song, and how even though the tickling was so light, his giggles were still sharp.

All of a sudden, with zero warning, Roman ditched the feather and attacked Virgil’s tummy with all ten fingers. “Oh, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes! She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes-“ Virgil fell into deep belly laughter as he thrashed and pulled desperately. “She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes!”

Virgil had never felt more embarrassed in his life, but that made the tickling so much more fun. After two more verses, Roman stopped. Virgil whined again at the loss of contact.

Roman chuckled. “You really are a hopeless lee, aren’t you?”

Virgil scrunched his nose. “Shut up.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised in an accusatory way. “Do you want to say that again?”

“What? Shut up?” snarked Virgil, trying to wind him up to get wrecked and forced to apologize, but unfortunately, Roman saw right through his plan.

“Wow. You really are desperate. Stooping so low as to provoke me to lash out and wreck you right this minute?” Roman tisked lightly. “Imagine! You honestly think that I’m going to fall for the oldest trick in the book? I hate to break it to you, Stormcloud, but I’m far more experienced than you think I am,” he added, shaking his head in disapproval. “I ought to make you wait longer just for that.”

Virgil gasped and shook his head desperately. “No, no, please no! I’m sorry!”

Roman shook his head again. “Poor little lee. So desperate you’ve lost your dignity. Here you are, begging like this for me to so horribly wreck you until you can’t even remember your own name.” Despite his words of disapproval, he smiled. “Oh course, I don’t blame you. I am very talented so I understand your eagerness. For that reason, I will grant mercy and not punish you for your lousy attempts at brattiness.”

Virgil let out the biggest sigh of relief imaginable. At last! He was going to be wrecked!

“But I still have one more game before we start.”

Virgil threw his head back onto the bed with such a force it almost hurt. “Oh my gosh, Roman please,” he begged, whining at a new frequency.

Roman sighed. “One more! You can do it. I have to make sure your ticklish little body is at optimal sensitivity! So, here’s an easy game to finish you off.” He walked around to the side of the bed. “Just gotta warm you up,” he winked before wiggling his fingers menacingly above Virgil. Virgil asked, and sucked in his stomach, but Roman simply drew in closer. The fingers were so tantalizingly close to the tickle spot, and Virgil swore he felt them already. And in his mind, he pleaded and begged with Roman to hurry up and get on with it already, but on the outside he was completely stunned into silence.

Until Roman did a fake out.

Roman launched his wiggling fingers at Virgil full speed without any sort of warning, and Virgil lost it. He laughed, he snorted, he cackled, and he squealed. He jerked and thrashed all over his limited free space for a whole minute until he realized. Roman’s hands were behind his back, as he watched Virgil with the most evil look you could imagine.

“You're awful!” screeched Virgil, both mortified by his own reaction, and furious at Roman’s trick. Roman laughed out loud.

“Hmm, okay, okay. I’ll wreck you now. Besides, I can’t just keep you here, endlessly teasing and torturing you forever?” He paused with a smirk. “Actually-“

“Roman!” Virgil cried out, laughing in both frustration at his lee mood, and anticipation from what was coming.

Roman laughed at his panic. “I’m just kidding, jeez. You poor lee. Alright, I’ll wreck you, on the one condition you tell me your worst spots.”

Virgil’s eyes turned to saucers. “I-what?”

“You heard me! Give me those death spots or else no tickles~” he sang, thinking the nerves were from his tease.

But strangely, Virgil turned more bashful, rather than flustered. It was almost a sheepish look on his face that replaced the embarrassment. That certainly got Roman’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern. Virgil scrunched his face up and looked down.

“I-I well, I don’t know what my worst spots are,” he replied with a shy smile.

Roman was confused for about two seconds before it dawned on him. “You-“ he stared in utter wonderment. “You‘ve never tickled before, have you?”

Virgil’s face flushed under the attention. “Well, yeah, no not really,” he mumbled sheepishly.

Oh, this was a game changer. Roman beamed. “You mean to tell me, I’m your first time?” Virgil smiled again, and nodded hesitantly. Roman had never been so excited in his life. “Well then, I guess we have work to do!” he commented, a wicked grin and a twinkle shining in his eye.

Roman turned and walked down to the end of the bed, clicking his tongue as he examined the body in front of him. “I suppose the best thing to do would be to either go bottom to top, or top to bottom.” He tilted his head up at Virgil while smiling. “Would you by any chance have a preference?”

Virgil huffed. “I guess, I don’t know. Bottom to top?” he suggested, more or so not caring as he really just wanted to be wrecked already. Roman clapped.

“Perfect! That means I get to play with your cute little feet!” he cheered. Virgil blushed. Roman held tight of the right foot’s ankle and took the same pointer finger and carefully slid it from the tippy top of the toes all the way down to the heel. Virgil immediately started his giggles anew, wiggling his upper body at the light touches. “Oh good! It seems you’re ticklish here! What else can we try?”

Roman soon added the other four fingers into the fray and began ruthlessly scratching up and down and all around the soft tender arches, making Virgil snort and fall into deeper laughter at the feeling. He tickled all around the foot, being very thorough and detailed in his methods, making sure not one inch of ticklish skin was left unscathed. Then, without warning, he moved up to the toes. He wiggled each little toe and scolded them if they curled up. Eventually, he pulled them back and gave them a good scratching underneath as punishment for their misbehavior. Virgil thrashed like nobody’s business, finally getting exactly what he wanted, and it was so much better then he had ever thought. And he certainly didn’t complain when Roman informed him that his other foot was getting left out, and needed the same tickly treatment.

After both feet were thoroughly assaulted (Roman may have had to go back to the right foot again, it seemed to be getting lonely), he spidered his fingers all the way up to Virgil’s knees. Virgil smiled in anticipation, bouncing his leg as he waited.

“Ah yes, the knees. Such an underrated tickle spot! Very few people think about the knees being so terribly ticklish, but they can be! It all starts with this little pressure point, riiiight here.” Roman began rapidly wheezing the muscle right above Virgil knee, making him fall into deep laughter. “Oh wonderful!” shouted Roman above the loud laughter. “It seems as if your knees are just as horridly sensitive as I thought!” His squeezing fingers quickly switched to spidering ones, and darted right on the underneath of his knees, sending Virgil snorting.

Roman awed at the adorable sounds. “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Are my tickly, tickly tickles making you giggle, hm?” he cooed, relishing in the deep red color that was Virgil’s face and the tiny snorts mixed in with the hysterical giggles.

“Nohohohoho!” Virgil giggled out, trying to kick his legs but the restraints keeping every inch of ticklish skin in place.

“No?” questioned Roman. “Well, that’s a shame! Why don’t we try something else then,” he pondered and immediately grabbed the young man’s thighs, squeezing sporadically and rapidly every area of muscle. Virgil’s eyes bulged out as he flung himself to sit up right and cackle.

Roman’s eyes lit up with mischief at the extremity of Virgil’s reaction. “Oh, what's this? Does this tickle? Are you ticklish here?” he asked, the teasing lilt in his voice making the ruthless squeezing at his thighs all the worse. Virgil fell back on to the bed to wheeze with laughter when Roman moved up closer to his hips. “Virgil!” scolded Roman. “Hello! I’m talking to you! Does this tickle?” he asked again, not for one second stopping the wretched attack on the loathsomely sensitive muscle.

When Virgil still didn’t reply, Roman felt a spike of worry, and slowed his squeezing fingers just a little. Virgil’s wheezy laughter died down, until it was more or less hysterical giggles.

“Yes!” Virgil called out. Roman was confused for a minute until he remembered the question he had asked a few minutes earlier. He took his hands off his legs, leaving Virgil limp and giggly.

“Oh good! See I guessed it did, but I was just checking,” he winked. “Congratulations, Virgil. I think you might have your first death spot.”

Virgil weakly held up a thumbs up, his giddy smile bright enough to blind someone. Roman smiled at him softly. “How about we take a break?” So he sat next to Virgil on the bed, gently rubbing his shin comfortingly, waiting for Virgil to regain all the breath he’d lost until finally-

“Um, I think I’m ready to go again,” piped up the younger man. Roman grinned.

“You sure?” Virgil nodded eagerly. Roman leaned next to Virgil’s ear, making him squeak. Oh he’d have to remember that.

“Well then,” he purred, his voice sending shivers down Virgil’s spine. “Allow me to continue your destruction.” He peered down the bed where Virgil was stretched out, and examined it carefully like a puzzle. He walked down the side to the right of his hips. “Now if my memory serves me, correct me-” Roman began, but Virgil barked out a laugh. Roman glared at him. “What?”

“Dude, what did you say?” he asked, laughing again. Roman crossed his arms.

“If my memory serves me, correct me. It’s a saying!” Virgil burst out laughing again. “What?!”

“The saying is, ‘If my memory serves me, correctly,’ not correct me,” he teased, still laughing at Roman’s miss interpretation.

“Okay, yeah, laugh it up, Virgil,” he retorted, immediately squeezing his right thigh again. Promptly the teasing man burst into laughter at the feeling, and proceeded to howl on the bed. “Don’t correct me again!” he playfully scolded before ceasing the tickling.

Roman crawled up on the bed in between Virgil legs in hopes of being able to navigate better. “Now, I say we try hips next. Some people overlook it, but they look wonderfully ticklish to me~” he sang, already the tone giving Virgil the giggles. Roman grinned at the pink color once again rising to his cheeks. “Aww, does mentioning the tickly tickles making you a little neeeervous?” he sang again, whilst skimming the skin of his waist and pant line. Virgil’s giggles greatly increased from both the tickling and the teasing alike, as he began wiggling around in the bed.

Roman’s scratching fingers followed the wiggly hips with great ease, smiling in adoration as he listened to the sweet soft giggles come from his captive. “You’re adorable,” he commented without really thinking.

“Nuhnuhnuhuhu uhuhuhuh!” the giggling man protested, yet his denial only further proved Roman’s point.

“Yeah huh!” argued Roman. “Alright enough softness, I want to watch you scream.” He put on his best evil ler face as he watched Virgil turn a bright crimson at the threat.

Roman crawled up further until he was practically sitting on Virgil’s hips. “So, let’s test the waters for what are the vast expanse that is Virgil’s tickle spots, shall we?” Virgil pulled up his legs out of reflex, but they were blocked by Roman’s back. He whined.

“Oh, whatever is the matter, dear?” he cooed, leaning in so close Virgil could feel his breath on his neck and ear. The man made a strangled noise in reply. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t speak lee. Would you mind rephrasing your statement?”

Virgil just shut his eyes, trying to smother the wobbly grin that was slowly creeping up onto his face. Roman took that as a sign to continue.

He spidered his fingers up to Virgil’s sides, and kept them there, smiling as Virgil shuffled all over the bed in anticipation. “Gohohoho ohohohon, alreheheady!” he giggled out.

“Is that anyway to ask for something?” Roman playfully scolded moments before digging into the boy’s sides. Virgil bucked and burst into giggles, thrashing and pulling. Roman didn’t stop for even a second, mercilessly tickling, squeezing and scratching all over the sides and even migrating to the soft skin of the belly. Virgil was in proper hysterics and was loving every minute of it.

“Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing! What? What’s the matter? Are you ticklish?” Roman teased, digging into the lower belly. Virgil squealed, and fell into even deeper laughter as Roman took to blowing raspberry after raspberry onto Virgil’s poor ticklish tummy. Virgil was in tickly heaven, for sure, but he still hadn’t been broken yet. And that was fine, but his growing hunger still hadn’t been filled, and he couldn’t help but wish deep down that there was somewhere to truly make him scream. He contemplated asking Roman to go for his thighs again.

But then.

As Roman paused the tickling on his sides and began to feel around, something happened.

Virgil could only possibly describe it as maybe a jolt of euphoric electricity that shocked him into the pit of his stomach. Something that found the roaring lion that was his lee mood and slapped it in the face. Something that sent shivers to his spine and butterflies to his stomach. Something that made him shriek at the mere feeling of Roman’s presence. If Roman’s dastardly laughter upon finding the spot was any indication, Virgil was screwed.

“Well, looky here,” he noted, looking up at Virgil with a gleam in his eye, further confirming the reality that Virgil was about to experience. “It seems we’ve found something.”

Roman tested the spot again: a rib, nestled warmly in between a tiny layer of fat, and the beginning of his armpit. He sharply poked the rib, eliciting a similar shriek as before. Virgil’s eyes grew like saucers as he fought with his own mind on how he felt. Was he terrified? Was the overwhelming amount of ticklish sensations about to course through his body like an electric current terrifying? Or was he excited? That after all these years of begging and pleading for someone to come into his life and do this very thing to him?

Virgil didn’t have time to decide, as Roman promptly dug in.

Virgil said he wanted to scream, and scream he did. His body was too overwhelmed to even thrash at this point, no, it merely fell limp and took every bit of torture Roman was giving to it. Roman took his pointer finger and thumb, making them into a claw motion, and pinching all over the bone. He pinched up and down, left to right, and repeated the sequence, soaking in every plea and beg and cry from Virgil. He wiggled in between the bone, and even took to scratching the armpits as well. Virgil was happily losing his mind. But it wasn’t over.

No, because out of nowhere, Roman pulled from under the bed a bottle of oil, and immediately began pouring it into his hands. Virgil greedily sucked in the oxygen as he waited for Roman to start again. His eyes followed him, watching Roman complete his moves with an eagerness about him. He was ready.

Virgil only had to wait a minute longer before Roman took his sweet time, slowly covering every inch of both armpits in the slippery liquid, purposely sliding his fingers and nails in such a way to make Virgil start to laugh. And then with both hands, he dug in again.

Oh, if he thought it was bad before, no, this was true torture. The oil made the fingers glide pristinely on the sensitive skin, and thereby ticking seemingly everywhere at once. Roman still concentrated on squeezing both top rib bones on either side at the same time, while allowing the nails to scratch along the armpits and other ribs as he did it.

And Virgil screamed. He screamed and screamed louder than he had ever before. He couldn’t even be concerned at the fact they were living in an apartment, and if they neighbors would be worried. Virgil screeched at the top of his lungs, his voice no longer even saying words or please at this point, just pure unshackled ecstasy in waves unmeasurable. He screamed and laughed his voice hoarse, kicking and tugging in desperation to escape the torture he was being subjected to.

“So,” commented Roman nonchalantly, yet very loudly to be heard over the booming laughter. “I was wondering if you could give me a quick performance review. You know, it is my first time and all.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

“Okay, so that’s not too bad. Anything else?”

Virgil silently screamed as he felt Roman vibrate his fingers into both bones once more.

“Oh good! Well, I appreciate your input, thank you.”

Virgil was loving every solitary second of this, after all, this is what he had wanted. He wanted exactly this. But, unfortunately, he needed to breathe. So he called out.

“YEL-“ he stopped mid screech, his own laughter cutting him off. Roman stopped immediately.

“Was that yellow?” he asked, face contorting with worry. Virgil didn’t answer at first, only focused on taking in as much oxygen as he could get.

“Yeheheah,” he replied, the leftover giggles still dying out.

Roman’s evil ler face melted as a fond one replaced it. “Wow, I’m impressed. That’s definitely your death spot, and you only called out yellow. I could never last as long as you did,” he marveled.

Even with as winded as Virgil was, he was still trying to tease back. “Oho, so you have a death spot, then?” he teased with a smirk. Roman blushed.

“Oh shut up. Just so you know, you still technically haven’t called red yet,” he retorted cockily. Virgil nodded before laying his head down for a minute to rest. “Do you want water?” Roman asked him.

Virgil shook his head. “No, I’m almost done. I’d rather not get up then get back down.” His insatiable lee mood was shrinking drastically. But, there was one more thing he wanted. “So, um,” he looked up at Roman sheepishly. “Can I do a request?”

Roman smiled fondly. “Of course. This is your session after all.”

Virgil fidgeted as much as he could despite his hands being tied. “So, I kind of have a favorite spot. Like, after you tickled me. I realized I might have a favorite.”

Roman’s heart practically burst on the spot. “Oh yeah? Let me hear it.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose in embarrassment, and stayed quiet for a minute. Roman chuckled. “Come on little lee, I can’t help you out if you don’t ask,” he cooed, gently spidering his fingers on the tops of his feet, making him let out a quick giggle at the touch.

“Ohohokay, okay. Um,” he looked away bashfully. “Can you go back to, back to my stomach? You, you can tease. Too. If you want, or whatever,” he added quickly, still refusing to look Roman in the eye. Roman beamed.

“Why, I would love to.”

Roman sat down next to Virgil, and actually undid his cuffs, much to Virgil’s surprise. “Alright, now keep your arms up,” he whispered, sending a pink flush to his cheeks.

“W-what?” he giggled shyly. Roman poked his tummy.

“You heard me. You gotta keep them up aaaaall by yourself.”

Virgil giggled again, and cautiously raised his arms above his head and gripped the headboard. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Roman nodded with a smile and began lightly skittering his fingernails all over Virgil’s quivering tummy. Virgil immediately burst into soft, sweet giggles, the ones he could probably stop if he tried, but definitely didn’t want to, and rocked back and forth onto the bed. Roman kept the fingers teasing his sides gently, then lifted up his shirt slightly and started peppering cute little kisses all over the pale skin. Virgil squealed lightly and giggled slightly harder at the wonderfully maddening feeling, drinking in every bit of feeling he could.

Finally after about ten minutes, Virgil slowly lowered his arms from the headboard and Roman stopped. Overwhelming exhausted overcame him like an ocean and he yawned. “Thank you, Roman. This was the best day of my life.” Roman smiled at the compliment.

“Why I’m so happy it was, Virgil. We will certainly do it again.” He stood up to leave, but Virgil grabbed his arm.

“Stay with me?” he asked, pulling on his arm like a child. Roman chuckled.

“Of course.”

And the two of them napped together, each so peaceful and happy in that they found each other, and waking up wondering if it was all just a dream.

#tickle fic #pineapple anon #pineapple writing #pineapple fics #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!roman #ticklish!virgil #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

Text

COVID-19, Negligent Manslaughter, and a Timeline of Tory Indifference

“I feel sorry for Boris Johnson. He is doing the best he can in the situation and I don’t think anybody else could have done a better job.”

[exhibit A: a gem somebody that I’m Facebook friends with reposted earlier]

It’s a sentiment that I cannot quite wrap my head around. I sit here hopeless and furious and trying to hold back tears because it’s been almost a year since England first went into lockdown and yet here we are, almost 100,000 dead, in an even worse position than we were before whilst other countries begin to slowly return to normality. It is clear to me who is to blame for this, however there are a large proportion of people who don’t want to “politicise” the actions of the PRIME MINISTER with regards to his approach towards handling a virus sweeping the country he GOVERNS.

Typically, these kind of posts making the rounds on social media will be accompanied by some kind of photo of Boris Johnson looking somber as if to suggest that the way things have played out were beyond his control and that he is some kind of broken man beleaguered by the suffering he has, despite good intentions, inadvertently caused.

This one in particular of Johnson with his head in his hands is a staple. In reality, this is a photo taken back in 2018 whilst he was receiving flack from party members for comparing Theresa May to a suicide bomber (for her handling of Brexit, ironically) as well as from the papers due to his rumoured (now also proven, in a completely non-surprising turn of events, to be true) affair with his former aide, Carrie Symonds.

So let’s shut this narrative-where we should feel for Boris because he’s doing his best, and apparently a better job than anybody else could’ve done in his situation- down right here. In a supposedly developed country with one of the world’s largest economies, if we’re talking by proportion, our COVID-19 death toll is up there with the worst of them. It seems that every other state figurehead (bar a small handful), and I mean almost every single one of them, is doing a better job. People love to throw figures out there about how densely populated we are to combat damning statistics as if we haven’t got just as many factors playing to our advantage, as if it’s unfair to compare our response to Germany’s or Japan’s or Singapore’s (both of which are far more densely populated) or New Zealand’s or Vietnam’s, but we are an ISLAND with world-leading technology and infrastructure and healthcare equipment and professionals and a relatively high standard of living. In what world is almost 70,000 dead in a country with abundant time and means to prepare a response reflective of said country’s leaders doing a good job?

Apparently we’re supposed to believe that Johnson feels some sense of moral responsibility for this astronomical failure. A man who refuses to acknowledge the multiple children he has fathered outside of his marriages and who has had repeatedly engaged in affairs and one-night stands throughout said marriages. A man who continued to cheat whilst his most recent wife was receiving treatment for cervical cancer, for fuck’s sake. Yep, a real stand-up guy.

So where does this idea that Johnson must feel remorseful for this catastrophe come from? We haven’t seen a second of remorse or a hint of accountability for the lives lost from him nor any members of his cabinet. That much is really no surprise; I have this hypothesis, and it’s not a stretch, that these people do not have an ounce of empathy in their bodies. These ridiculously privileged, privately-educated individuals who have had everything handed to them their entire lives simply cannot put themselves in the shoes of the average working person and that is the problem. Unable to recognise that what distinguishes them from most others is little more than the luck of being born into wealth and the abundance of recourses and connections that has entailed throughout their lives, they see us as beneath them-as less intelligent, less driven, and thus less deserving of the status and respect they enjoy. They see us as a bunch of whining, unmotivated idiots who do not recognise the chokehold they have over our media nor the fact that everything they do is a desperate grab to keep money and power within the hands of a select group of people, an exclusive members club from which most of us are barred (just take a simple Google search and watch Jacob Rees-Mogg’s opinion of the Grenfell victims or the buried Johnson speech where he talks about how inequality is essential). They know that we will squabble amongst ourselves about who is to blame rather than wising up to the truth which is that every decision they make is fuelled by cronyism and the inability to make and follow through with difficult choices, the pandemic being no exception. The supposedly self-made elite see the life of the average working class person as having far less value than their own, and their parties actions over the last 10 years have made that very clear.

It was in December 2019 that the first case of COVID-19 was declared to the World Health Organisation and on March the 11th that they announced they considered it as a pandemic. In Wuhan, people were dying of pneumonia in their clusters. And what was Boris Johnson doing in this time? Well for starters, here in the UK we didn’t even have a pandemic committee-Johnson had scrapped it six months before. If years of benefits cuts and defunding of the NHS in favour of funding nuclear weapon programs, keeping British troops on other people’s lands, and tax breaks for the mega corporations that donate to their party didn’t convince you that the Conservatives have little regard for human life, them getting rid of this committee-whilst a pandemic has been declared year after year as the greatest threat to mankind-should have been the first sign of trouble. As if that wasn’t enough, he also skipped five of the COBRA (meetings are made up of a cross-departmental committee put together to respond to national emergencies and PMs routinely attend those pertaining to crises on the scale of COVID-19) meetings addressing the situation. Whilst other countries were closing their borders and stocking up on PPE, Johnson and his ministers were selling PPE abroad and simply telling people to wash their hands to the length of the tune of happy birthday. Their only policy was one of “herd immunity”, which was in fact not a policy but just an abandonment of their party’s public duty disguised as one, intentionally obfuscated with pseudoscientific jargon.

Even thinking the absolute worst of politicians you would hope that when it came to the point where the UK’s non-response to COVID-19 was becoming an international disgrace, Johnson and his ministers would take proper protective measures if only to save face. But when they eventually seemed to do so, it became clear that the priority was not the safety of the ordinary people affected by the virus. Outsourcing their test and traces system to companies such as Serco, Sitel, Deloitte and G4S rather than public health services, Conservative ministers could not resist attempting to line the pockets of their friends and benefactors in the process. According to the Guardian, instead of reaching out to the experts or using publicly funded services to handle COVID containment measures, the Conservative party has awarded a disgusting £1.5 BILLION WORTH of contracts to businesses with explicit connections to its MPs and donors, the majority of which lack any relative experience of the tasks they’ve been trusted to carry out. Unsurprisingly, the National Audit office found that when awarding contracts relating to the production of COVID-19 protection measures and treatment needs, there was a “high-priority lane” for suppliers referred by senior politicians and officials; companies with a political referral were 10 times more likely to end up winning a government contract than those without. On top of this, it is not hard to draw a link between the late initiation of lockdown measures and preemptive openings of pubs and restaurants against scientific advice to the interests of frequent donors such as Wetherspoons owner Tim Martin. Even if one chooses to ignore the blatantly obvious correlation between the owners of the businesses whose profits were prioritised over safety concerns and the number of those owners who donate to the Conservatives, party officials at the very least were reluctant to follow the lead of many other countries in financing furlough schemes themselves and instead avoided this responsibility by using loose lockdown measures to leave it down to the discretion of small business owners, who couldn’t themselves afford to furlough staff, whether or not to stay open.

Time and time again, as the government flounder and fuck about, favouring personal desires to keep their powerful, high-paying jobs and to satisfy the corporate allies who make this possible, blame has been shifted from the public to care homes to NHS workers and back again whilst we, the public, make the biggest sacrifices of all under the illusion that we were being guided out of this pandemic rather than lied to and thrown under the bus. Whilst the elite continue to pick and choose what rules apply to them, it’s students and the elderly and the vulnerable paying the fines and scrabbling to afford basic living costs and hoping that they don’t lose someone dear to them.

Don’t get me wrong, a large proportion of the public have contributed to the spread too with their selfishness and entitlement and the arrogance it takes to develop a sudden refusal to acknowledge basic science from experts who have studied in the field their whole lives so that they can justify their need to go to the pub (speaking of, it’s absolutely HILARIOUS how many “mental health advocates” are suddenly coming out of the woodworks on football avi Twitter after they’ve spent years calling people on mental health Twitter attention seekers). And don't get me wrong, there were inevitably going to be casualties of this pandemic. But it didn't have to spread to this many people, and there didn’t have to be so many deaths due to a lack of preparation, and this wouldn’t have been the case if it weren’t for the inherent apathy of the Conservative party towards the lives of people of lesser status than them, the reluctance to put those lives before party interests. I wish I felt like there was an end in sight, I wish there was some positive takeaway from all of this, but even now, we continue to see corners being cut with the vaccine lauded as our saving grace and anti-maskers gathering outside hospitals to chant about how “oppressive” it is to be urged to wear a bit of cloth over their faces for the short periods of time in which they leave their houses and all I can think of is the selfishness that runs like poison through our country. It makes me sick and leaves me to question desperately where we go from here. I don’t like unanswered questions, I don’t like feeling politically directionless, and I don’t like the growing fear I have about the state of the world which seems to intensify every single day. In the UK at least, it’s starting to feel like nothing will ever change-we’re told we live in a democracy and yet mainstream media is owned by the people whose interest is to keep their Conservative friends in power. The stronghold they have over print media in particular allows them to continually get away with smearing and defaming every person who comes along and seems to want to actually help ordinary people, without being challenged, to the point where the only kind of “opposition” we’re left with promises nothing but a big boss approved tactical reshuffling of the status quo (which they call “electability”); it doesn’t feel like democracy when the majority of the country are being fed misleading information and convinced against voting in their best interests.

This is the result of that. The state we find ourselves in is the inevitable result of being manipulated into helping the elite build their protective wall whilst the rest of us scrabble to get in and step on each others heads along the way, the people inside shouting over that it’s those even more vulnerable than ourselves that are taking our places. Outside the wall, the earth is falling from beneath our feet, and instead of throwing over the ropes to help us out, the people inside are stockpiling them so they can secure their firm place above ground and then later flog the rest. How many more people have to die before we reach some kind of widespread realisation of that? Where do we go from here and what do we do? Well for one, we can stop spreading those god-fucking-awful textposts on Facebook and get our heads out of our arses. Wear our masks over and wear them over our fucking noses. Have some fucking consideration for others. Don’t wait til an issue affects you personally to give a fuck about it. AND START HOLDING THE FUCKING PRIME MINISTER AND HIS MINISTERS AND HIS ENTIRE PARTY AS WELL AS THE OPPOSITION MPS THAT HAVE SAT BY THE SIDELINES AND ALLOWED THIS TO GO ON WITHOUT PROTEST ACCOUNTABLE. That would be a good start.

I’m so tired. Things didn’t need to be this way, and yet because of the selfishness of the few, thousands upon thousands are dead. It’s not about “throwing around blame”, it’s not about “throwing around” anything, it’s about expecting a leader to do his best to protect lives. If that is “throwing blame”, let’s get things clear, I have no issue with hurtling it torpedo style at those who handed out a death sentence to so many in this country rather than do anything that might compromise their own privilege. Honestly, pass me the shovel after and I’ll happily bury the wreckage in the ground. Who wants to join?:-)

#rant #politics #anti capitalism #anticapitalist #covid-19 #covid #england #labour #socialism #fuck the tories #fuck the torys #fuck boris #rant post

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sunlightdances · 5 years

Text

take my hand (when you can’t see the light)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Rating: PG-13 for like, 2 swears. Summary: Dean plays the knight in shining armor when you meet him by chance. Turns out you’ll meet him several more times. Everything happens for a reason, right? Author’s Note: This was supposed to be posted on Valentine’s Day, but we all know how I am with deadlines. Have some fluffy Dean to make up for it. Last year’s Valentine’s fic is here, but is unrelated and you don’t need to read that to like this one! Please excuse any tense issues - I changed it back to second person after a read through, so there might be some errors. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites including Wattpad, AO3, or other archiving sites without my permission! I don’t own Dean, Supernatural, or any other related characters. I also don’t own “Forever on Your Side” by Needtobreathe, which I used for the title.

It’s freezing outside, and your car is running on fumes.

You curse yourself for not having the forethought to get gas a few states ago when it was relatively warmer, and it just adds to the irritation buzzing through your veins.

Pulling up next to the last available gas pump, you jump out of the car and swipe your card. The machine beeps, and tells you your card can’t be read. Your stomach drops when you try to think about how much money is left in your account. You swear you had enough to get through this trip.

You swipe again, and this time it says, please see the cashier. “Oh, fuck you,” you groan, and the person on the other side of the pump from you looks up, startled.

“Sorry, not you.” You mutter, and feel your face burning as you quickly turn away and head inside to figure out why your card isn’t working.

Inside, you give some sob story about driving across the country, but the teenager behind the counter clearly doesn’t care. You don’t blame him, but it doesn’t help your situation. That’s until a hand sneaks around you from behind and places a credit card on the counter.

“Put it on this one along with pump eight.” A deep voice says, and you stiffen when you feel a distinctly male presence at your back.

“You don’t have to do that--” You start to say, looking over your shoulder to see the man from outside behind you. He backs up a few steps and you feel like you can breathe again.

“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs.

“I have money,” you blurt, wincing when you realize how defensive and stupid you sound.

The corners of his mouth quirk up in an amused smile. “I’m sure you do. Just think of it as me paying it forward.”

The kid behind the counter has already run the stranger’s card through the machine for both of you, so you have no choice but to stand there awkwardly until he tells you you’re all set.

“Well… thanks.” You say, and turn to head out the door quickly, trying not to prolong this embarrassment more than you have to. You want to get back on the road and this is already a longer pitstop than you planned it being.

Once your car is filled up, you sit back in the driver’s seat and check your phone. Ten unread text messages that you delete without reading, five missed calls, and a notice from your bank that your card has been put on hold due to suspicious activity.

You groan - you never even thought to let the bank know you were taking a trip, you just hauled ass out of town the first minute you could. Didn’t even stop to think of the consequences. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to think what you can do - you have a small amount of cash but not enough to get you where you’re going. The bank is closed by now, so even if you call them you won’t get your card turned back on until the morning.

You have absolutely no idea what to do.

A gentle knock on your window brings you out of your daze, and your eyes meet a pair of bright green ones, twin pools of concern. He gestures for you to roll down the window, and you do, but only halfway. He’s a stranger, after all.

“Are you alright?”

You huff a laugh. “I’m the farthest thing from alright. But I’ll be okay. Thanks again for the gas, by the way.”

He smiles gently. “I know how that goes. And it was nothing, really. Here--” he holds out a to-go cup of coffee, “You look like you might need this more than I do.”

“Thanks…”

“Dean.”

“Thanks, Dean.” You take the coffee from him and when his fingers brush yours briefly, you feel it zip up your arm. So cliche. You sort of hate yourself for thinking about it. “I have to go,” you say quietly.

He clears his throat. “Sure, sure.” He looks down at his feet awkwardly. “Drive safe.”

You watch him go to the other side of the gas pump and get in a sleek, black car. You sigh to yourself before putting your car in drive and hitting the road.

You give kudos to yourself that you only look in your rearview once.

After Dean’s been on the road for a few hours, he realizes he’s following the same route the girl from the gas station is, and he feels like a creep.

You were cute, but he tells himself to stop thinking about you. You’re clearly going through something, and he’s never going to see you again.

Even so, he wonders what you were running from.

Physically shaking his head to stop himself from letting his mind wander, he calls his brother. “Any update?” He asks as soon as Sam gets on the phone.

“No change. How long until you’re here?”

“Six or seven hours if I don’t stop.”

Sam sighs. Dean can tell he’s tired, though he knows his brother will never admit it. “There’s no rush, Dean. We’re just-- waiting. Take a break, get some sleep.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Call me if anything changes.”

He tosses the phone in the passenger seat after he hangs up and pushes the image of Sam alone at a hospital out of his mind, and pushes it even farther away knowing it’s Jody they’re waiting on, Jody who didn’t even get hurt from a job, but was in a car accident.

Surgery went perfectly, but until she wakes up, they don’t know much else.

It’s a shitty way to spend Valentine’s Day.

He puts it out of his mind the best he can and concentrates on the road. That’s when he notices a familiar car on the side of the road, flashers on.

He frowns. He paid for your gas himself, so he knows you’re not out of gas. Unless something else is wrong with the car. Weighing it for a few seconds, he pulls over behind you, not too close, and tells himself to stop overthinking it before he gets out.

Her door is already open by the time he gets close, and he sends you a small smile when you notice him.

“I just want you to know I’m not following you,” he says, and then quickly continues, “and I know that’s exactly what someone following you would say.”

You laugh, but it’s a little watery. “You seem to show up right when I need help, though.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I-- the car is fine. I just needed to stop for a few minutes.”

He sees the tear tracks on your cheeks but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to do anything to make you more upset.

“Valentine’s Day really blows.” You say finally, and Dean laughs, your words echoing his own thoughts.

“Definitely.” Dean opens his mouth to keep talking but his phone rings, shattering the moment. “Sorry, hang on--” He digs his phone out of his pocket, seeing Sam’s name flashing on the screen. “Yeah?”

“She’s awake. Going to pull through.”

The relief Dean feels is physical. He lets out a sigh and the tension seeps off him. “Good. That’s-- kick ass, dude. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up and looks back to you, an apology on his face.

“I have to go. If you’re okay…”

“I’ll be fine, Dean. Thanks again.” You say, a little sad maybe, but the sorrow that was on your face when he first saw you on the side of the road isn’t there anymore. You tell him your name, “-- by the way, just in case we run into each other again,” and then with a wink, you’re back in your car.

Dean is a little awestruck, but with another laugh to himself shaking his head, he gets back in the Impala and continues on, finding himself wishing the passenger seat wasn’t empty.

You make it across the state again before you stop for food. Only a bit of cash left, you decide to go to the closest grocery store and get something from the ready-to-go section instead of going the fast food route.

You feel a little better. You’re still getting texts and ignoring calls from your now ex-boyfriend, but you’re finding it easier and easier to press the reject button every time. Your heart doesn’t hurt quite as much.

Digging through your wallet for cash as you walk through the doors of the store, you run right into a solid mass of a person, an oof leaving your mouth as you regain your balance.

A rough voice says your name, and panic rushes through you before you realize who it is.

“Dean?”

“Now who’s stalking who?” He asks, tone light, corners of his mouth twitching.

“This is getting a little weird, dude.”

“You’re telling me,” he agrees, and your eyes shift to the flowers in his hand.

For some reason you feel a little bitter about it. It’s Valentine’s Day. Of course he’s buying flowers for someone. A guy who looks like that? Who buys strangers coffee and gas? Definitely not single.

“Late gift pickup?” You ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, “For a friend, yeah. She was in an accident. On my way to see her.”

“Oh,” you feel like a total jerk. “Sorry to hear that.”

“She’s going to be okay. But thank you.”

An awkward silence settles over the two of you, but this time it’s your phone that breaks the silence. “Oh, for fuck’s sake--” you say, pulling your phone out just to turn it off. You’re so tired of this.

“Someone special?” He asks, wry, and feels relieved when you laugh, even though it’s more distressed than anything else.

“Unfortunately.” You don’t know why, but you feel like telling him everything. You didn’t tell anyone before you left except your roommate, so she wouldn’t think you were murdered or something. “Came to my boyfriend’s to surprise him for Valentine’s. Turns out he found someone else to spend the day with.”

Dean winces. “What a dick.”

“I packed up pretty much everything I owned and just… left. I moved to that town because of him. I had my job because of him. I just had to get out of there.” You swallow hard, feeling like you’re going to cry again. “I have no idea where I’m going to go and my card got turned off. I’ve got a hundred dollars to my name.” You sigh, meeting his eyes. “Sorry - you have a friend literally in the hospital. I shouldn’t be complaining.”

Dean’s eyes are so intense as he takes in what you’ve told him. You wonder if he knows he’s got this effect on people.

“Come with me.” He says. He too, looks a little surprised.

“What?”

“You can stay with me. Since you don’t have anywhere else to go. I just have to stop at the hospital first, if you don’t mind going with me--” He shakes his head, “Sorry, I-- we don’t know each other. But I have a house, a big house, and there’s extra room if you need it. At least until you’ve got some cash again.”

You hesitate, of course - he’s a stranger. But-- something tells you that you can trust him, and you have no other options, really.

“Okay.”

Dean smiles. “Okay.”

This is probably, easily, one of the stupidest things Dean has ever done.

Sam is going to give him so much shit, but as he looks in his rearview to check that you’re still behind him, he can’t help but smile when you give him a little wave.

You pull into the parking space next to him at the hospital, and he gestures for you to follow him through the large double doors at the entrance.

Inside, he finds the room number Sam sent him, and knocks lightly on the door when he gets there.

“Dean,” Jody says quietly from the bed, her voice a little rough.

“Hi,” He says, grinning at her. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

“Sam said you drove all night to get here.”

“Was finishing up--” He stops, remembering your presence at his back, “-- a job. Otherwise I would have been here sooner.”

Sam clears his throat. “Got anything else you want to share?”

You snicker, and Dean bites back his smile. God, what is it about you that makes him feel lighter than he has in years?

“Hi,” you say softly, introducing yourself.

“She needs somewhere to stay for a few days.” Dean says, hoping his tone is firm enough that he’s not going to get shit about this from his brother.

After some small talk and a few pointed looks from Jody, she announces that she’s tired and that Sam and Dean should go get some rest. Dean turns to you.

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot,” you say, “too many hours on the road.”

Dean is the last one to lean in and give Jody a hug, and after a second’s hesitation, he grabs a single flower out of the bouquet he got her.

“Smart guy,” Jody whispers, and Dean rolls his eyes playfully.

You can’t believe this place.

This is where Dean lives. With his brother. This giant, amazing place.

You have a thousand questions, and Dean promised he’d answer a few, but more than anything you need to take a nap.

You do, and when you wake up, there’s a single red rose on the table by your bed.

Happy Valentine’s Day - DW

A giddy, schoolgirl-like feeling comes over you as you read the note, and you find yourself feeling excited and hopeful for the first time since you left your house in a heartbroken daze. It feels like years ago.

When you find your way to the kitchen and see Dean and his brother there waiting for you, near identical smiles on their faces, you start to think you could get used to this.

The unknown doesn’t feel as scary as it did yesterday.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #spn reader insert

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blkgirlcafe · 5 years

Text

Mine

You do not have permission to repost my writing to any other site.

About: Camila, Flo girlfriend is upset at him for the attention he shows fan accounts on instagram.

Word Count: 1,262

TW: Smut, Kink, Daddy Kink, Rough Sex

“Whateva take yo ass to the gym.” Camila rolled her eyes at him.

“Oh so you upset?” Florian asked, setting his gym bag on the floor.

“I’m not shit, go do you.” Camila finished sectioning her hair. Wash day was the worst but necessary as a black woman.

She watched Florian pick up his bag and walk out, slamming the door behind him.

“Who the fucks go to the gym at 5oclock in the evening. Shit dont even make sense.” you say to yourself.

When you met Flo two years ago you knew he was a gym freak. But he never started a work out this late and part of you thought that maybe he was seeing someone else. He never gave you a reason to think that, but he has been trending lately online due to his boxing career really taking off. You had seen all the fan accounts that followed him and constantly posted his thirst traps, calling him Daddy and Big Nasty, the same names you called him in private.

“Fuck!” you said in frustration, why did you start your hair so late you thought.

----

You were curled up on the couch when he finally came back in the door, carrying the signature odor of sweat. Your favorite show, Bob's Burgers, played on the screen.

“Hey baby.” Flo attempted to bend down and give you a kiss.

You swerved it.

“Still Upset.” Flo stood to the side waiting on you to respond.

Camila checked her phone, it was damn near midnight, you rolled your eyes and continued watching tv.

“Khorosho (fine)” he mummerted.

You heard him enter yall bedroom and start the shower. You sighed, you were upset, but not with him, with his fans. She turned the TV off and went to the bedroom, grabbing his gym bag on the way, he always left it by the door, always. You threw it into the closet. His shower was quick, stepped out in nothing but a towel.

You admired the giant before you. At 6’4 Flo easily towered over you, his chest double the size of a normal man. His body sometimes defied science, especially when he was in the ring.

“Still not talking detka(baby) ?” he asked as he moisturized his beard.

She rolled her eyes and went to her side of the bed, pulling the covers back, making sure her special pillow with the silk case was fluffed.

“Fuck Camila! You have been ignoring me all damn day, the least you can do is tell me what I did wrong.” He turned towards you clearly agitated.

Fine he wanted to know, he could see. You opened instagram and went to the post you had bookmarked. A random fan blog had tagged him in a shirtless selfie with the title, “Can't wait for Big Nasty next fight, Daddy always wins.” and he had commented, “Soon love.”

“This speaks for itself Flo, stop feeding these thirsty hoes.”

“My Manager says I need to be more personal with fans, the more people that support these fights, the bigger my purse, the more likely I am to get endorsed you know that baby.” he defended himself.

“Whateva, since she is your Love, you can go sleep with her tonight.”

“So you are really mad that I called her love, when I call everyone that. You know my names for you baby, malyshka (babygirl), printsessa (Princess) and when you are being like this, otrod'ye (brat). As far as these fan blogs go, I am trying to further my career, I want to take care of you baby.”

Flo crossed the room to you, only taking two strides with his long ass legs.

“For me Flo, can you not call them pet names.” you looked up at him. Tried to resist how good he smelled, or how his chest was still slightly wet, and definitely tried to resist the bulge growing behind the towel.

“For you anything baby.” He bent down and gave you a kiss.

“Also why the fuck did you work out so late?”

“Because you were ignoring me and I couldn't take it, I needed to let some steam off. I didn't want to fight with you. Even though I do like when you're jealous, you know all this belongs to you, you have my heart camila.” He gestured at himself.

“All of it?” She asked as she tugged at the towel.

“All parts of Big Nasty are yours.” He pulled the towel and threw it on the floor. Camila ran her hands through his soft beard, then down to his chest.

“Take this off.” He growled.

“Ok Babe.” You barely got out, he forced his tongue into her mouth.

Flo quickly pulled off her shirt, her cotton shorts next.

“Bend over, don't even ignore me like that again, you got a problem you talk to me.”

He lightly spanked your ass, sending a small jolt through you.

“Do you understand?” one hand gripped your asscheek as the other lightly raced your lips.

“Yeah.” You moaned.

“Just yeah, you calling someone else Daddy now?”

You smiled, that man loved to be called Daddy.

“I understand Daddy.” you moaned as two fingers entered you, you were already dripping wet for him.

“horoshaya devushka (Good Girl)” he muttered as he got on his knees and put his face right into your pussy. His tongue lapped up all that juices that had already accumulated from his fingers, before he circled your sensitive clit.

“Fuck Baby.” you moaned out.

Flo smacked your ass harder, “Daddy Only.” He shoved his tongue back into your pussy not wanting to miss a drop of you.

You chased your first orgams with the sheets balled in your hands, one of Flo long arm reaching up to play with your nipple.

“I need you Daddy, now.”

“Tell me exactly what you want.” He always had to hear it. Hear what you wanted, your desire, you need.

“I want you inside me Daddy, now.”

“So demanding detka.” He slid all 8 thick inches into you. He stayed still as you quivered around him, already on your second orgasm.

“I love you baby and no groupies will come between us, I promise. I am yours, this body, heart, soul all yours, this dick is yours too.”

Flo gripped your hips hard as he began to pump into you, slow, long strokes at first. You always needed time to adjust to his thick dick inside you.

After a while he sped up, fast, hard strokes that sent your breast bouncing as you pushed back against him.

“Ohh Daddy.” You tried to bite your lip to keep from being too loud.

“I wanna hear it all baby.” He pulled you up, gripping your neck, as you bonuched against him, “I want it all princess.”

Flo pulled up and flipped you over, on your back, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist as he got on top of you. You loved doggy, but missionary was different with Flo. He spit into your mouth as he pounded into you.

“Fuck!” he growled as he released deep inside you.

You let him rest his weight on top of you, all 245 pounds. It made you feel safe, comforting.

You two fixed yourself so you were actually under the covers and cuddling.

“You have me for the rest of your life baby.” he whispered against your hair.

“I think I can deal with that.” you smiled and cuddled against his chest.

____

I love feedback, I am pretty new to this and would like to hear your thoughts.

#smuttywriter #florian munteanu #florian munteanu x camila #woc #big nasty #florian fanfic #fanfic #smut #florian munteau x black woman

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oikawasballs · 5 years

Text

Mad Dog and Puppy

Hey so it was brought to my attention that people can no longer access the original “Mad Dog and Puppy” English translation post since the OP deleted her account. She’s a friend of mine and she felt bad so she asked if I could repost it, so here y’all go:

From Haikyuu!! Light Novel 6, Chapter “Mad Dog and Puppy” written by Kiyoko Hoshi with illustrations by Haruichi Furudate.

One fine holiday in fall, there was a man standing in a convenience store nearby Aoba Jousai High School. The guy, wearing a volleyball jersey, walked out as the opening and closing door made an electronic sound. The man’s name is Kyoutani Kentarou, a second-year member in Aoba Jousai High’s volleyball club.

Kyoutani tore the wrapping of the chicken—chicken is his favorite food—that he took out of the convenience store bag before sinking his teeth into it, making an audible noise; this was how he walked toward school. The volleyball club took Mondays off. Practice starts morning today, which is a Sunday.

Kyoutani had not attended the club for quite a while since the middle of his first year due to various circumstances, though he has been recently thrown into the spotlight for coming back after being recalled by Oikawa, the team captain.

At the preliminary round of the Inter-High Miyagi Finals in June, Aoba Jousai suffered defeat at the hands of Shiratorizawa Academy, the invincible champions. It was necessary to regroup and reorganize the currently completed team in order to clear themselves of the disgrace come the next Spring High School competition, move on from second place and aim for the Nationals. What they wanted to strengthen in particular was their offense. The fighting strength that served to be the trigger of that was Kyoutani, whom Oikawa jokingly called “Mad Dog.”

**********

For Kyoutani, club activities are frankly troublesome; everyone in the club is annoying and he wished they would stop calling him Mad Dog or anything for that matter. Though he tries not to care about that too much, as long as he gets to keep playing volleyball.

While there was a common agreement for the time being among the manager, coaches, the captain and other third-year members on what to do about him, at any rate, Kyoutani‘s fellow second-years had more complex considerations. They, who had been practicing everyday since he left, felt they’d been working hard only to be sidelined by Kyoutani who just came back as if nothing happened when they thought he already quit.

That same Kyoutani also did not seem keen to a change of heart just because he came back, his attitude still as bad as his manner of speaking. And while they thought things would turn out fine if Kyoutani thoroughly practiced at the very least, he would often still come late to practice.

In the third gymnasium where the volleyball club is gathered, Yahaba Shigeru, a second-year back-up setter, clicked his tongue silently as he glared at the clock on the wall.

**********

Kyoutani was noisily eating his chicken while walking down the road when his mouth came to a stop. His feet, hurrying as he thinks he’s running late, stop at the same time. He noticed a small cardboard box placed at the middle of a gaping-wide, empty plot of land—basically like a missing tooth—in the residential area along the street he uses everyday to go to school.

“…?”

The empty lot was covered in tall grass, and it didn’t seem like it had only been there since yesterday or today. But Kyoutani had never noticed this area. That it had suddenly caught his attention must have been because of the cardboard box. The cardboard box from an online shopping website that could often be seen here and there did not appear to have been trampled upon or crushed nor did it appear to have been drenched in rain and lost its shape; it was properly, squarely propped up and brand new, which made it unnatural, and it was almost like a poorly constructed trap.

Regardless, Kyoutani came up and stepped into the thicket quickly without hesitation and peeked inside the box.

“…Fur?”

A light-brown furball that is around two sizes smaller than a volleyball is inside wrapped in an old towel. As soon as he tried to crouch and touch it, two wet, small, black eyes appeared from inside the round ball. Kyoutani, surprised, pulled back his stretched-out hand.

“It has eyes!”

Inside the box, the furball opened its red mouth and made a vague sound. That is when Kyoutani finally realized.

“A dog.”

What was inside the cardboard box seemed to be an abandoned puppy. It’s very small and frail, and it doesn’t have a collar on. That said, a lot of dogs walk in that area, so it’s not an unusual sight at all. Kyoutani, concerned he was going to be late, resolved to leave the place immediately.

However, the puppy clambered up the box making it tumble and fall to the ground and followed Kyoutani as it cried. It turned back but cried helplessly with its small tail waving back and forth.

“… Meat.”

Kyoutani noticed that it was following because of the chicken he was holding, so he threw the last of it into his mouth in one go, noisily chewed and then drank water. He then folded up the paper wrapping, pocketing it and immediately walked out of the lot.

It is a dog after all. It only tried to follow me because I had food, that‘s all. Thinking that, he headed to school without looking back. He would get a scolding if he arrived late, so it was for his sake that he rush and ignore some dog.

Walking at a quick pace, Kyoutani slowly sulked. A rush of memories came and went and he suddenly felt bad.

He expected to be made to come back by Oikawa, the team captain, but the unsettling part was having to hear complaints from other members for such a small matter as if he was the only one who had been causing trouble all the time. He even thinks to himself of quitting this shitty club on the spot if he so ever hears someone self-importantly explain to him that volleyball is about team play while lecturing him. Thinking that, he even became angry at himself for staying with the club for these past months without quitting. The wave of exhaustion that had slowly been building over him was starting to crash. There probably really wasn’t much of an excuse for losing his shit on people, but he realized that his desire to start yelling and acting like a completely impatient prick was really only a desire to let out his exhaustion, frustrations, and confusion.

He’s never told anyone that and never will. He thinks, just maybe, that they wouldn’t understand.

“…”

Club activities are annoying, and the fact that the cuff of his jersey keeps brushing against his ankles whenever he takes a step is annoying too. The grass in the empty lot might have been wet with the morning dew. He thought of that as he looked at his foot. And when he did, he realized he was about to step on a black-ish shadow or something, so he stopped in panic as if a piece of trash had landed in front of him.

However, before his feet was no trash but the puppy earlier looking up at Kyoutani.

It made a sound.

“The dog.”

Why is it still following him when he has no food anymore? Does he still have the scent of meat? Without realizing, he tried to take a sniff of his jersey, but he’s not sure. Kyoutani furrows his eyebrows and glared at the puppy silently. However, the puppy, probably because it was still small and untrained or because animals cannot precisely comprehend human emotions, coiled around Kyoutani’s feet and cried.

“…You’re in my way.”

That is what he said, but of course his words remain undecipherable to the puppy, who bites Kyoutani’s pants while tumbling and crying; it is enjoying the moment, even letting its tongue out.

“…”

He strangely became irritated while looking at that innocent furball. “Becoming attached to anyone and starting to beg food from them is probably what you do. You probably go around stealing people’s convenience store chicken knowing they couldn’t possibly resist a small creature like you, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he said.

Okay, maybe he had been a little harsh. Or maybe a lot.

But having accepted the puppy wouldn’t understand anything he was saying, Kyoutani left the poor dog and ran away. He has to go to the club anyway.

He thinks he can hear its helpless voice from behind him, but he ignores it and continues running.

Yahaba would probably see this as some kind of sarcastic mockery, wouldn’t he? Well, of course he would.

This whole thing is stupid.

Kyoutani thought it was ridiculous to be running then when he was already late anyway, but he continued to sprint toward school, never slowing his pace.

This day is going to suck.

**********

“You’re late. Are you actually serious about this?”

As soon as he arrived at the gym and removed his jacket came Yahaba’s jeering. Kyoutani, ignoring him—though he does momentarily get upset about it—joins for spiking practice. He did arrive late, and he has no choice but to explain to them that it is a dog’s fault. He’s watching Yahaba while he speaks, can’t even explain to himself why, because he shouldn’t care, but he does. Regardless, the benchwarmer didn’t mind telling him things as they are.

While Yahaba has been grumbling his discontent even after Kyoutani had silently fallen in line, he finally shuts up when his fellow second-year Watari glares at him. Oikawa, the captain, who had been looking at what Yahaba had been doing from across the net, also kept calmly focused on his own practice. This degree of dispute had not been a rare occurrence since Kyoutani’s return, but it was better compared to last year’s. Things were grimmer that time to the point that Kyoutani would ditch club activities. He supposes it’s better now since he hasn’t quit yet.

The gym’s atmosphere returns to normal and practice restarts after having momentarily paused. Yahaba and Oikawa stand on either side of the net, and they go and toss to the spikers who enter the court taking turns. Next is Kyoutani’s turn. He throws the ball to Yahaba, the setter, and runs. The toss was made. He steps in looking at the ball, jumps and hits it.

Before that, everyone else made impeccable spikes that no one could complain about. However, Kyoutani hits the ball taking advantage of his weight and power, but upon landing, bumps into Yahaba while bearing that excessive force on his way down.

“Ow! Why would you bump into me?! Watch where you’re going! You came late and still have the guts to do that?”

Kyoutani also grows angry as Yahaba complained, his hands on the floor.

“What does my being late have to do with bumping into you?”

“Whatever! I’ve had enough of your excuses. I’m just telling you to take things seriously!”

That caused Kyoutani to hesitate. He had expected Yahaba to supply his reasons for him, so he could just deny everything while watching the results.

He gets up heavily and looks down at Yahaba, who is still on the ground, and says:

“Aren’t you the one who should be taking things seriously?” Even to himself, Kyoutani knows his voice sounds way too harsh, but he can’t help it, and he can’t explain it, and he won’t even try.

Yahaba’s eyes fix instantly in that furious way that Kyoutani tiredly decides he’s never going to live down. “What did you say?!”

Kyoutani takes a deep breath. He can’t talk about this, he’s barely holding his shit together. “…I’m going home.” And that sounded so pathetic he’s almost ashamed of himself.

“Huh?!”

Yahaba, his eyes wide upon hearing Kyoutani’s quite selfish remarks, didn’t try to stop him. “We don’t need Kyoutani in the team. We can win without him. We’d be better off without him,” he thought.

The club members were dumbfounded. Kyoutani who had just arrived left the gym alone.

**********

The winds of fall felt awfully cold as if in connection with him leaving the hot, stuffy gym. Kyoutani returned to the path he had dejectedly come from.

He came to play volleyball, yet he couldn’t do a single decent spike. He was so frustrated, asking himself how it had come to this point he almost wanted to scream. Club activities were troublesome, and all the club members were annoying. Come to think of it, it doesn’t matter if it were a team composed of hard-working individuals or even if it weren’t a school club at all as long as he can play volleyball. There are a lot of teams everywhere. Volleyball isn’t something people cannot do if they aren’t wearing the Seijou uniform.

At that moment, Kyoutani heard some crunching sounds in his pocket. It’s the paper wrapping of the convenience store chicken. He took notice of it at once and wanted to quickly throw it away, thinking of it as a huge bother due to his frustration. He thought of going back to the convenience store when he realized upon raising his head that he was all of a sudden back in front of the empty lot earlier.

“…”

It felt like a premonition of a mildly uneasy event to come. However, without even giving him time to escape, the thicket rustled, revealing a dark reddish-brown furball that tumbled out.

It makes a sound.

“…It’s you again.”

The puppy coils around the cuff of his jersey pants as if it remembers Kyoutani or it remembers the smell of the convenience store chicken. Why is that? Why is it so attached to him? He never gave it food, yet why? Kyoutani was struck with questions. But he immediately stopped thinking about it, and at that moment thought of once again running away to another direction.

“What is it with you? You could be playing with other dogs, you know?”

Oh hell no. Not now.

He turns too fast, knows he does, stumbles and feels like an idiot, but who the hell could blame him? Yahaba is feet away, wearing the same Seijou jersey uniform. He stands with seeming unease, glaring at Kyoutani, his gaze fixed on him like a spotlight of pure, unrelenting interrogation.

“You came back to us after being asked, and now you’re playing with a dog?” His voice is so off-hand that Kyoutani can’t read it. That makes him nervous.

However, Yahaba seemed surprised when he noticed the cardboard box sitting there.

“Oh, is that an abandoned dog?”

Kyoutani sulkily nods as the puppy remained coiled around him.

Yahaba raises his voice for some reason. “Are you going to take in an abandoned dog or something?” There’s all this shock and excitement in his voice that would be funny as hell if it were, oh, any other time and any other day. “This ain’t no shoujo manga, you know! For goodness sake, stop fucking with me! For all I know, you could be planning something awful!”

What the hell is he talking about? Goddammit. “Fuck off, Yahaba. Damn, you’re so fucking crazy. Just leave me alone!”

Kyoutani thinks it may say something about their relationship that Yahaba doesn’t even blink.

“But what are you really doing here, Kyoutani? I don’t buy that you left practice just to play adorable puppy finder, though that’s what I’m going to tell anyone that asks, just so you know.”

Annoying little shit.

For his part, Yahaba had never liked the careless and conceited way Kyoutani behaved since he joined the club in their first year. Or rather than not liking him, it was annoying that Kyoutani kept causing trouble with their senpais despite the two of them belonging in the same year. Kyoutani would yell “fucking shits” to their third-year seniors and just generally go around not giving a fuck like he had no common sense. You’d think he’d been living his whole life so senselessly.

But indeed Kyoutani was amazing. It was frustrating but he was incredible and had no equal among their grade. They had him join practice matches, and was also a regular first-year player in official games. That’s why it was frustrating, since the same people also expected something out of him. Yet that guy…he was amazing yet picked fights with their senpais and was hated by them in return. He would take on challenges he could not win; it was as if he didn’t care about anything at all. People were honestly relieved when he stopped showing up to club activities.

But even Yahaba could not vocalize any complaints when Kyoutani was called back by Oikawa. They treated him like some hotshot rookie despite him being gone the whole time. Even worse, he barely came to practice making people wonder why he even came back at the first place, though he still played as amazingly. He was really a frustrating fellow.

Irritated by the memory, Yahaba watched Kyoutani standing before him. He silently glared at the dog biting and pulling at the cuff of his teammate’s jersey.

With his back turned, Kyoutani thinks he can actually hear Yahaba grinding his teeth.

“Why the hell did you even show up late just to leave on your own and then bother some abandoned dog?”

“I‘m not bothering it! This dog just followed me by himself!”

“Are you trying to appeal to girls by telling them animals like you?”

“What the fuck?!”

They just keep exchanging words like that, and while they do so, the puppy tumbles around Kyoutani’s shoes and seems to be falling asleep.

Yahaba continues, dropping his voice to convey how very, very serious this discussion suddenly is. “You know that dog is going to be trouble, right? We have to make sure it’s taken somewhere farther from here.”

Kyoutani searches for the right response. Play dumb? Look shocked? Throw a fit? Or…“Huh?”

“I think I have an idea.”

“Does it involve leaving?”

Yahaba grins at him now like he’s the funniest thing ever. Then he laughs. It’s an odd, almost foreign sound–he hasn’t heard Yahaba laugh in way too long, and it’s edgeless, and it’s amused as hell, and it’s just Yahaba all over again. And through all this, Kyoutani tries not to pay attention to how weird this whole thing makes him feel. “Sort of.”

Kyoutani raises his brows at that statement. “I really, really don’t like how you said that.”

“Jeez, stop glaring! And anyway, as if I’m going to believe you. You senseless moron. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you ate that dog alive.”

Kyoutani decides to ignore that, not sure why Yahaba seems determined to piss him off. Bastard.

Yahaba continued mumbling and then held up the puppy that had fallen asleep atop Kyoutani’s shoes. “This puppy needs to eat. You think you can get some dog food?”

“Sure, I can pull them out of my ass,” Kyoutani snapped.

Yahaba snorts his opinion of that one, then he looks up, studying Kyoutani’s face. Kyoutani doesn’t dare move. One wrong move and he won’t be able to breathe. Yahaba does that to him sometimes.

Yahaba relaxes then. Whatever he saw, or didn’t see, in Kyoutani’s face seems to satisfy him. He then puts the puppy back inside the cardboard box, holds the thing up to his chest and urges the other boy, “Hey, we’re going.” He doesn’t even know why he’s saying this. He’s not seriously thinking of–he just isn’t.

“…Huh. Where?”

Kyoutani grew flustered. Where on earth could they be going with a dog in hand? At any rate, Yahaba didn’t seem to have any idea where to go either.

“For the meantime, how about the police? They might tell us at least where to bring it. Anyway, you carry it since you found it in the first place. I don’t want to get bitten. Hey.“

Yahaba’s eyes flicker down, fixing on Kyoutani with that disturbing team-radar that he seems to have tuned on him at some point.

Kyoutani takes a slow, deep breath, clearing his head. Thinking this through will mean he’ll screw it up. That’s what always happens when he overthinks something. It’s what happens when anyone overthinks something. Do it or don’t, but don’t sit on your ass–or stand in the middle of an empty lot–and try to think about it.

“Fine. I think you’re out of your mind, but fine.” The grumbly undertones hide the worry.

“Great,” Yahaba answers with a spastic nod, and the tiny fluff of hair at the top of his head jerks around hypnotically. Kyoutani realizes it’s almost impossible to look away. "Let’s go then, Mad Dog-chan.“

Kyoutani gives him a narrow look and makes a bitterly amused sound. "I hate that.”

“You never told us before,” Yahaba actually looks concerned.

“Nobody asked.”

“I mean, I remember you telling Oikawa-san to stop calling you weird names, but I don’t think anyone’s realized that you actually hate it.”

“What a fucking surprise,” Kyoutani sneers.

Flexing his fingers, he takes a breath and lets it out like he was taught. Easy and slow. It’s been worse. Other people have done and said worse. At least, he thinks so. “Whatever. Call me anything you want, just tell me where the fuck we’re going.”

Yahaba pauses, looks at him seriously. And though they’re standing right in front of each other, the look in his eyes says he may as well be a thousand miles away. “I guess we have a lot to talk about, Kyoutani.”

Are you lying to me, Yahaba? “Any reason why?”

Yahaba drops his head to contemplate his outstretched foot. “I’m bored?”

“Try again.”

“Because you apparently want people to ask you stuff? And I think that’s cool. I can think of a lot of things to start with.”

Kyoutani bites back something snarky and unkind, swallowing a lump in his throat and wondering if he could possibly be any more annoyed than he is right now. But whatever. It’s never comfortable to remember their earlier spats, and if this could make things a little better, then what the hell. Besides, he just isn’t up to any more arguing today. He shrugs his shoulders. “You ever tell anyone anything, I’ll deny it.”

Inside the box they’d been pushing back and forth to each other comfortably slept the lumpy, small ball of fur. Its breathing was surprisingly fast, faster than when it was coiled around Kyoutani’s feet, as if to show evidence that it was a living thing.

**********

Somehow—and Kyoutani has no idea how, never will, doesn’t even care—Kyoutani and Yahaba walked the road side by side carrying the cardboard box. Both of them were completely silent, though they sometimes peeked inside when the dog moved or made a sound. And when their eyes accidentally meet, they would turn away and awkwardly face somewhere else. This happened many times over, uncomfortable enough for them, until Yahaba who was then lightly carrying the box finally said, “Having a dog inside an online shopping website’s cardboard box feels almost like you got a dog delivered to you, doesn’t it?”

“…”

Yahaba, a bit embarrassed that Kyoutani only continued walking without giving any response, snapped. “Hey, you’re supposed to say something in return when someone talks to you. What sort of reaction was that?”

“…You’re boring.”

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from! And just so you know, when the senpais are proved right and we actually end up becoming friends in the future, you’re going to feel so dumb for ignoring me.”

Kyoutani makes a weird sound right next to him. Like he’s choking to death, though he can still walk okay, so Yahaba’s not too worried.

“Oh, there’s the police box! Let’s go.”

The two entered while carrying the box. A young police officer is seated on a chair writing something, and he looks at their faces. The police box was small to the point that nobody could fit anymore after the two went in; it had posters about remittance fraud and traffic safety, leaflets about wanted criminals and maps of the neighborhood pasted all over. The police officer examines the insides of the box without a word after taking a peek at them as if suspecting Kyoutani’s bad expression.

“Whose dog is this?”

However, Kyoutani just says vague statements like, “It went after my convenience store chicken,” and “I came from practice.” Yahaba had no choice but to answer from the side.

“Um, it’s an abandoned dog, so we’d like to ask what we should do with it.”

“Doesn’t it have a collar?”

“It’s still small, and it was in this box wrapped in a towel. I think it was thrown away.”

“You picked it up?”

Yahaba shook his head upon being asked by the police officer. “This guy did,” he said as he turned his eyes to Kyoutani, who was just staring straight ahead, like he had nothing to do with this conversation at all.

“You there,” the police officer said nodding his head. He took out documents from a drawer and looked at Kyoutani. “It will be received here at the police box as quasi-lost property, but will you care for it in case the owner did throw it away or the owner doesn’t appear?”

“…Huh?”

Kyoutani was surprised and then looked at Yahaba as if asking for help. However, Yahaba just shrugged. The police officer looked at the two and started explaining, as if he had been repeating a set phrase he had gotten used to saying often, with a gentle nod.

“Ah, in case the owner does not appear, it will be moved to a health center after a few days, but there it will be temporarily …”

Despite him just having started speaking, Kyoutani suddenly slams the desk. The color of the police officer’s eyes changed, but Kyoutani yelled without regard.

“What crap is that? We’re asking you where to bring it so we can have someone take care of it! That’s what I want to hear about!”

“Just wait, you idiot!”

Shaking off Yahaba’s effort to stop him, Kyoutani glared at the police officer. “We don’t need your help anymore!!”

Having said that over his shoulder, Kyoutani rushed out of the police box carrying the cardboard box, the puppy poking its face out of it. Yahaba was left alone in the police box, bowing his head saying, “I’m sorry. That guy’s an idiot,” as an excuse and followed Kyoutani who had run off to somewhere.

Upon finding Kyoutani who was standing a little far away all the while holding the box, Yahaba ran to follow him without pause.

“What the hell was that back there?! You do understand you’re not helping, right?! Though I was surprised too when he told us to bring it to a health center…”

“I know he was surprised, but would a person normally suddenly yell like that? You would have to be crazy to yell at the police, right? Was that occasion not more appropriate to just look annoyed, get out without a scene and ask for help? What was the point of coming all the way here only for you to get mad?” thought Yahaba, but he didn’t feel Kyoutani would comprehend it even if he said it. The newborn puppy seems more likely to understand than Kyoutani. Even now, Kyoutani continues to silently glare at Yahaba’s feet, making Yahaba wonder what it could be that has piqued his interest. The dog inside the box was staring at Kyoutani’s face with its wet eyes.

While it was looking at them, Yahaba found himself suddenly thinking of many different trivial things:

“This guy doesn’t really have a clue. Fine, let’s go to the police, he said. They’ll help us. Or not. I don’t understand why this dog is ignoring me, why it’s so attached only to this jerk.”

"Stop deciding things on your own. I really don’t understand you.”

Just as Yahaba said that, Kyoutani quickly turned on his heel without even nodding at Yahaba and walked toward town, still carrying the box. "I’m trying to help, asshole.”

Is this guy serious?

“Wow, you’re really something else,” Yahaba thought with a slight sense of admiration. Moving his brows as if to ask where they’re headed to, Kyoutani just ignores him and goes to walk steadily alone. A helpless cry can sometimes be heard making a sound.

While gazing at the distance with Kyoutani’s back getting smaller and smaller, Yahaba tells himself: “This is good for now. The mad dog and an abandoned dog—that’s just too much for me, and surely this task would be too much for anyone, too. Anyway, he’s not a kid anymore, and he’ll probably figure it all out by himself. And even if he doesn’t, that wouldn’t be my fault.”

However, Yahaba felt his mood grow heavy and clouded. Something is pulling him into action, like small fishbones poking the insides of his throat. In his mind’s eye, he can see Kyoutani looking at him absently, and Yahaba hates that look on his face: stubbornness warring with an unhappiness so deep he can feel it from here.

“Oh, this is bad.”

There’s no reason why he should, why he should want to do this. None at all.

He eventually accepts it.

“Wait for me, for fuck’s sake! The senpais will get mad at me if I don’t come back with you!”

In the end, Yahaba chases Kyoutani and the puppy.

**********

Beyond the police box is a main road that gets a lot of pedestrian traffic. Yahaba stopped and turned to Kyoutani and the puppy. “Okay, listen to me before you decide to get stubborn. With how things have turned out, it’d be best to entrust this to someone we can trust.”

However, Kyoutani only glares at Yahaba, his expression betraying his disagreement.

“…”

“What’s that look for? I mean, can you take care of this? Or do you actually want to go back to the police?”

Kyoutani was exasperated as he averted his eyes; the puppy stretches its body from the box and licks his chin. Kyoutani puckers his face and half-heartedly returns the puppy inside the box as he was tickled by its fur. Yahaba tried not to pay attention to the cute interaction.

“Neither of us can take care of it. And since that’s the case, we’ve got no choice. Surely kind-looking people love dogs. A kind little girl and a puppy—that’s the best-case scenario, right? It should be totally better visually than you and a puppy, shouldn’t it? Right?”

While he didn’t really understand why the person they would hand the dog over to had to be a girl, that scenario was indeed better. If they can’t take care of it themselves, there’s no choice but to find another person who can. Kyoutani reluctantly agrees.

“Fine, let’s find one.”

Yahaba hadn’t even realized he wasn’t breathing until it escapes in a soft sigh. Okay, that’s done. He immediately looked around their surroundings. It’s still early in the morning, and naturally his eyes would land upon a person who is out to walk their dog. Among these persons who already have a dog, there should be at least one of them who would not mind taking in another one, he thought.

He tries approaching a few people, but none of them would take in a puppy. While he thought taking care of one or taking care of two made no difference and took the same amount of time and effort, it was probably not so. Is there no one who would willingly accept a dog and just think of it as the little brother or sister of the dog they already own?

When the two grew tired, the puppy who had been quiet inside the box all that time suddenly made a shrilling bark.

“Woof, woof, woof!”

The two looked at the distance thinking it was barking at the appearance of its original owner. But the person immediately averted his eyes and looked at the ground.

The person that was there was a poorly built man who didn’t quite fit the morning atmosphere. Yahaba, his eyes not particularly looking at anything, tells Kyoutani with a small voice, “Hey, make it shut up. Do something, Kyoutani,” imploring him to make it quiet, though the puppy didn’t seem to care and continued to bark. After a while, the man seemed to have noticed that it was him being relentlessly barked at by the dog.

“Hey, what is it?”

The man slowly comes close. The way he’s looking at them is threatening. The way Kyoutani was looking back at him is also threatening, but it is a wholly different notch higher. The dog continues to bark even more. This is bad, and it’s getting worse, thought Yahaba who decided to just let this misunderstanding come to pass. Just as when he had convinced himself that it was best not to say anything unnecessary, to fake a smile and avoid making trouble and to slowly move on without provoking anyone, Kyoutani suddenly dashed out toward the man barking like a dog.

“Who’re you? We’re not doing anything! What are you looking at?!!”

“…!?”

Yahaba promptly pulls the mad dog back and ran away. He can hear someone yelling, “You want a piece of me, brats!?” But it was preferable for school sports club members to just run away. Yahaba yells while running for his life:

“Why would you go pick a fight with someone like that?! Look at your opponent!”

“Shut up!”

“Huh!?”

He continues to run regretting not escaping alone and deserting this idiot and his idiot dog. Yahaba finally came to a stop thinking they’d be fine by then having come from several blocks away at that point.

“Fucking hell.”

He clicks his tongue looking at Kyoutani beside him with the cardboard box in his hands not even looking tired at the very least despite running out of breath, at least compared to himself who is breathing with his shoulders. It really angers him.

“Why did you fucking come back…” Yahaba told him and looked at the distance as if unable to endure any further. Suddenly, the color of his eyes sharply changes. Yahaba combs his hair with his hands, steals the cardboard box from Kyoutani uttering, “Sorry!” before running off. Kyoutani chases him, the hardest chase he gave in his whole life.

In the end, what Yahaba was chasing after all was a group of high school girls in uniform.

“Girls! What do you think? Would you care to look at a puppy? A puppy!”

The girls variously reacted with caution at first: “Eh?”, “Is this for filming or something?”, “Does it bite?” But they timidly looked inside the box, likely enchanted by Yahaba’s gentleness. They then shriek out of joy upon noticing a puppy curled up into a ball inside.

“Eh, is this really a dog? Oh no, it’s so cute. Look, look!”

“What’s this? Is this a real dog, like does it really move? Why is it inside a box? You’re doing this to record our reactions, aren’t you?”

“What dog is this? It’s so fluffy.”

“Isn’t this a Shiba? Shiba Inu. Right? Did I guess correctly?”

One of the girls who came forward and said that blushed with a hiccup. Her eyes were fixed onto the face beside Yahaba’s. That prompted him to look at the space next to him, and there was Kyoutani glaring at the girls, his eyes brimming with bloodlust.

The other girls also notice Kyoutani’s stare and find themselves frozen.

“Hey, what are you doing?!”

It was too late, however, and the girls let out a high-pitched scream and ended up running away. Yahaba loses his patience and violently gets mad.

“Stop glaring! One of them could have taken this dog! We had good communication, and you were staring at them as if you wanted to turn them into stone! What was that all about? Are you some kind of Medusa!?”

Kyoutani steals the box and the dog back from Yahaba and snaps back. “Do you have some ulterior motive?!”

“I don’t! I mean, I did but that’s got nothing to do with what happened just now!”

“You never have no ulterior motives.”

The puppy also cries as if to add to the tension.

“Are you a total idiot!?”

A car pulled over next to the two boys who had been arguing at the middle of the road. They immediately kept their mouths silent, then a woman revealed her face from the driver’s seat and spoke. Her words were beyond anything the two could have possibly expected.

“Excuse me. You don’t really want to throw that dog away, do you?”

Noticing that Kyoutani is instantly growing into a frenzy upon hearing that sentence, Yahaba stops him saying, “Just wait!” What is up with him? Is he some kind of feral child? Is he less evolved than a dog?

The woman gets off the car and speaks to them while Yahaba calmed Kyoutani down.

“Do you know what would happen if you threw that dog away? Even if you leave it to an animal shelter, there is no guarantee that its owner would be found.”

“It’s not like we don’t know that already!” Kyoutani barks as if ready to bite, while the woman asked with mild bewilderment, “Eh, then why are you …”

“You shut up already,” Yahaba seethes and commands Kyoutani to keep quiet before he told her the actual story of how they picked up an abandoned dog and how they were then trying to find a new owner. Upon hearing their and the dog’s bizarre adventure, the woman apologizes saying, “I’m sorry. It seems I misunderstood the situation,” then she struck the hood of the car she had been riding.

“But it’s a good thing I called you out. I’m going to look for its owner myself.”

“… Eh?”

Kyoutani and Yahaba looked at her blankly and observed the car she’s been riding in more carefully. The hood of that roundish car had drawings of dogs and cats, written on it was the name of a veterinary hospital.

“Veterinary hospital…?”

The woman worked at a veterinary hospital and she explained that she can find an owner by coordinating with organizations that help abandoned dogs and cats.

“Our hospitals also have fliers recruiting people who want to own pets.”

Upon saying that, the woman took the box where the puppy was in from Kyoutani. The puppy whined and licked Kyoutani’s hand when his hands let go of the box.

“I will contact you when we find an owner.”

She places the box on the rear passenger seat saying that and closes the door. Then they could see the dog through the glass but couldn’t hear its cries.

The woman hopped into the driver’s seat and immediately drove off. Yahaba bowed at its rear window, but Kyoutani just stood there stiffly as if feeling uneasy.

The car was soon out of sight, and the puppy issue ended an instant too soon. The two of them quarrelling just earlier then felt like a dream. But it was not a dream; it was real. And speaking of reality, they must go back to the club soon. Yahaba turned to Kyoutani who was standing beside him. “Hey, look. The dog’s gone now, and we have to go soon.”

“…”

Kyoutani glared at Yahaba as if sulking. And he kept at it. But Yahaba understood how Kyoutani felt. It was a strange feeling, as if a hole had been punched through his heart, or as if a feeling could not linger because of how fast reality had unfolded. But they can’t afford to slack off here, either.

“Everyone’s waiting. You caused some trouble for the senpais, and it wasn’t something you should have shown to our juniors, either. Just realize that you have teammates who are waiting for you just like that dog has friends waiting for him, too. I think it was cute that you immediately tried to search for a rightful owner and it got attached to you. It’s so unlike you.”

Yahaba continued watching Kyoutani who was staring intently at his shoes like a sulking child. Yahaba felt stupid for feeling frustrated earlier somehow.

Why did I have to tell a jerk like him words like that? He came in late and left by himself. He picked up an abandoned dog on his own and caused trouble for me. And now he’s sulking that the dog is gone. I’m honestly glad when he doesn’t show up to practice, yet why did I bother following him to bring him back with me…

Yahaba fell into silence as Kyoutani raised his head. And then he said, “Let‘s go. Quick.”

Then he immediately walked forward alone.

“Huh?! Oi, wait for me! I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying that!”

“You smell of dog.”

“You smell worse!!”

**********

The two walked up the school path, alternating between silence and bickering. Neither of them talked about the puppy. They probably will never talk about that dog going forward, Yahaba thought.

Soon enough, they were at school. Just as when Yahaba thought of suggesting that they explain to the senpais why they were late, he heard a feeble cry from somewhere. He looked around expecting something bad about to happen, when they noticed they were back at the empty lot where they had picked the dog up.

“Here…”

The thicket brushes against their feet. Without them realizing, they stopped and explored the area before a kitten revealed its face amid the grass.

It meowed.

“It’s a cat.”

“Hey, don’t look at it. Act like you didn’t see it!”

So said Yahaba as he pulled Kyoutani away. Yet the kitten helplessly climbed up Kyoutani’s jersey using its claws, and before he knew it the kitten was perched atop Kyoutani’s large shoulders meowing.

Then it licks Kyoutani’s cheek.

“Why the heck are they so quick to get attached to you!?”

“It’s not my fault!”

“I hate the fact that you’re so easily liked!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

It had been around an hour since practice started. The two, wearing the Aoba Jousai volleyball uniform, were still a far way off to returning to the third gym, however.

**********

The End

#kyouhaba #kyoutani kentarou #yahaba shigeru #mad dog and puppy #haikyuu #hq #This should be exactly as the translator translated it but if you notice any issues with my repost please let me know

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butwhyduh · 5 years

Text

Links and Secrets

Peter Parker x Villain!reader pt 4

Warning: torture, language

Word count: 1220

Summary: experiments on mutants. I posted this chapter on the wrong account so I’m reposting it here.

You sat in a room that was glass on one wall and some kind of plastic on the other. An attempt to control your powers. You wore some kind of standard issue clothing. Your outfit was unlabeled and you couldn’t see a label anywhere. The iron man bots had left you in the room and very young and nervous intern had passed a plastic breakfast tray equipped with only a thin plastic spoon. They didn’t trust you with anything that could be used as a weapon.

A man walked to in front of the glass wall and you glared at him. A shady looking portly white man with bifocals and khakis dragged a clear plastic chair across the room to in front of the window. You simply watched him.

“You aren’t my first. First metal or electricity power. I’m being rude. I’m William Striker and I’m here to observe and test the abilities of the mutant community. See how dangerous you are to the general population,” he said looking wolffish. Your skin prickled.

“Why did you take me?” You asked. Your blood felt icy as he looked at you the way someone looked at a nice meal. His intent was clearly to use you.

“To test to see if you should be allowed back into society,” he says ignoring the question of why or how he knew to take you. You were in a private home of a known vigilante and you were taken. Peter must have called him. He must have betrayed you.

“Let’s start with a little experiment,” he said and a man entered the room with a control. He gave it to Striker who turned something on. A few seconds later you were pelted with water. You screamed and then gasped as icy water burned your lungs. The pressure beat bruises into your body where you were hit. He must have turned it off or it ran out of water and it stopped. You shook violently with cold. Your hair and clothes dripped pathetically.

Striker casually wrote the result down in a notebook. He didn’t seem to care that he was torturing a random civilian.

“Why?” You pleaded over and over again unsure if you were asking the Striker man or why Peter let you be taken in the first place. Striker ignored you and instead finished writing in his book before leaving. You fell asleep cold and wet on a rubber floor.

————————————

Peter had froze. He knew that the second the door closed. Why had Mr Stark taken you? What had happened? He called Tony Stark immediately.

“Mr Stark why did you take her?”

“What? I haven’t taken anyone,” Tony said deeply confused. “Slow down. What happened?” His genius mind was already pulling up a map as he realized who Peter meant. The girl from group therapy with new powers.

“Your suits came and grabbed her. She isn’t a threat. Why did you-“

“I did not do anything,” Tony said scanning his iron suits for missing and finding none. “I’m not missing any suits either. What did they look like?”

“All silver but your suits. It wasn’t you?”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t kidnap civilians on the regular, kid,” Tony said typing furiously.

“What happened Mr Stark?” Peter asked.

“I, Uh... don’t know...” Tony said distracted by his computer. His scanning software had picked up something big.

“Are you even listening?” Peter asked angrily.

“Woah, yeah kid. I’m running software. Seems someone got ahold of parts from Sokovia. I’m tracing their location now. You know in the city, you are almost continuously recorded. From street lights to ATMs to store fronts. Whoever this is wasn’t subtle. Come on over,” Tony said. He was getting ready. This had just became personal for Tony Stark. Peter tapped on the window in his suit before climbing in.

“I was on the way. They came and took her and I froze,” he admitted in shame.

“Don’t feel bad kid. Someone with Ironman suits said she was under arrest. Let’s focus on getting her and those suits back,” Tony said. Peter nodded. “I’ve narrowed it down to this area outside of the city,” Tony said pointing to a rural area. “There isn’t a lot of towers or cameras out here. I’m running a tracer I put in every suit. It should pop up soon.”

“We’ve got to find her,” Peter said and tony looked at him and nodded. “Are we going to call the team?”

“No. You said three bots, right?” Tony asked and Peter nodded. “We can take care of it ourself. We’ve fought worse.”

A few hours later computer beeped before showing a location. A clearing in a heavily wooden area apparently held 3 iron man suits and hopefully you.

“Suit up,” Tony said.

“I am,” Peter said back confused.

“I know. It’s a phrase.... Never mind. Let’s go.”

——————————-

You had been burned and injected with various solutions. The water had been done in various temperatures and pressures. It hasn’t taken them long to run through a battery of tests; only a few hours. Your powers had barely flickered with a few of them. As a mutant without control, you had no way to protect yourself.

Striker brought in another test. Some kind of cuffs attached to a box that he plugged in the wall. You tried to fight being placed in the chair but you had little strength against the large men at this point. The cuffs were strapped to your wrist tightly.

“Last test of the day and then you can eat,” Striker said taking his usual place outside the room. He didn’t get his own hands dirty. You simply glared at him. He nodded his head and one of the men flipped a switch and you were shocked.

What should happen is full body spasm as all muscles clench. What happened was your body threw an incredible arc of lightening that exploded the lights and then killed the men in the room. You ripped your arms from the cuffs, scrapping yourself bloody and flung the door open. Your vision began to blacken and there was screaming. You stumbled down the hall. The arcs of electricity dancing off your body kept anyone who saw away. Glass shattered as you moved.

You saw someone in red as you finally lost consciousness and fell to the floor of the hallway.

—————————-

Peter rushes to you in the hall. You looked terrible. Your skin was ashen, wet, and bruised. Your wrists bled as you lay unconscious. Peter gently picked you up. Your power stopped as soon as you fell.

The workers ran in a panic. Iron man bots and Tony quickly arrested all they could see in the mayhem. Peter focused on getting you out.

He carried you down the road before sitting down on a log, worried about you staying unconscious. Peter gently touched your face. You moved a little and he repeated the action.

“Kid, we got to go,” Tony said in his suit. You opened your eyes at his voice and your face froze in horror before you sent electricity uncontrollably. Peter dropped you as his muscles clenched. The iron suit glitched for a second for you to run away. Tony went to chase you.

“Don’t. She’s scared,” Peter said quickly as you disappeared into the woods.

#friday night smut #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker smut #avengers #marvel #peter parker x villain!reader #villain!reader #tony stark #ironman

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httpjeon · 6 years

Text

03. hot bot ― jungkook (m.)

jungkook/reader | android!au, hotbot!au | smut, angst

wordcount: 2.1k

contents: emotional blue balls, rough sex, slut shaming, forced orgasm, light fingering, no aftercare, yoongi appearance

― synopsis: you have the option. but will you take it?

a/n: this is what i like to call...rubbing salt in the wound.

blog masterlist ― series masterlist

“A message to our loyal customers! A new and improved line of Hot Bot’s are officially on sale. Get your hands on a one-of-a-kind bot before they’re gone! Below is a coupon code for only a select few! Use it wisely!”

The message you received from Hot Bot Inc immediately sent your heartrate into overdrive. You read it repeatedly, trying to gather up the courage to click on the link that would redirect you to the website. You hovered your mouse over the link and closed your eyes and clicked. Your eyes hurt as you squeezed them tightly, willing yourself to open them and look at the page.

The page was exactly the same as you remembered it and you were already signed into your account. You clicked on the banner that would bring you to the Hot Bots for sale, your heart still hammering away in your chest.

After a second, you were brought to the familiar page that you had bought Jungkook from. At the top right corner, you could see the filters that had been applied through your survey you took that day.

You began to scroll the page, ignoring the bots that didn’t look like the one you were looking for. It seemed the company had released a new line of bots; VIX2000. However, none of them caught your eye, and before you knew it; you were 2 pages in.

Suddenly, a new line title caught your eye.

BTS900+

You stopped breathing for a second as you passed the Taehyung and Hoseok bots.

And then, there he was.

Jungkook.

You quickly clicked on him.

“After some bugs were reported, Jungkook was reprogrammed. We now introduced the new and improved model!”

“Bugs?” You scoffer, glaring at the screen. “There was nothing wrong with him.”

Before you could realize what you were doing, and before you could think too much on it; you clicked add to cart.

The company had reimbursed your purchase after Jungkook had been recalled; giving you full money back. You also were given the coupon code on the email and your account had been given a discount for any bot bought after you lost Jungkook.

You stared at the payment page; your credit card and address info already filled in from before, though you had to add in the coupon code. Your mouse hovered over the complete purchase button; thinking over your options.

What were you expecting? What did you want? What would you do if Jungkook wasn’t the same?

…Would you regret it?

Decided that it was worth a shot, you clicked the button and were immediately brought to a confirmation of purchase page. It was as if they were mocking you; are you SURE you want to do this?

After confirming it, your order was placed.

Your phone pinged, alerting you via e-mail that you had purchased him again.

You paced in front of the front door, clutching your phone in your hand as you did so. You had gotten a notification a moment ago that you had a delivery on the way up. And it could only be one thing.

Jungkook.

It felt like hours passed before the doorbell finally rant. You whipped the door open, startling the delivery boy on the other side, who stared at you with wide eyes.

“D-Delivery, ma’am…” He muttered, using the dolly to push the oversized box into the living room; the same place you first met Jungkook.

“Thanks,” You breathed out, staring at him until he backed out of your apartment; a look of what could only be described as fear on his face. At that moment you didn’t care about being rude or keeping up appearances, you wanted him out and you wanted him out now.

Once the door was shut and you were all alone with your box, you exhaled loudly. Your hands were shaking as you grabbed a box cutter out of the little dish sitting on your coffee table, you used it to cut into the box.

There was an overwhelming sense of deju vu when Jungkook was revealed to you. His head hanging and his hair covering his eyes. This time you didn’t need to bother reading the instructions, you reached to the nape of his neck and pressed the button with a soft click.

Immediately, Jungkook’s head rose up, revealing the almost innocent doe-eyes he possessed. You momentarily forgot how to breathe as you stared at up.

“Please register owner’s name,” He said, voice monotone, matching his emotionless eyes.

“_-____...” You whispered, a shiver going down your spine at the cold, lifeless gaze he set upon you.

He pressed his lips against yours. They felt the same but, the emotion behind it wasn’t the same. You pushed the thought aside and allowed him to escort you to the bedroom.

He didn’t waste a second before tearing into your clothes. The raw power behind every move he made reminded you that he wasn’t human.

When you were bare before him, he grinned; a dark, lustful gaze in his eyes. Where they used to be so soft and bright…he really was different.

Suddenly, his hands were on your waist, making your squeal when he roughly turned you over onto your knees. The scent of your detergent filled your senses, calming you and almost making you forget where you were. That is – until a firm hand hit your ass with a resounding slap.

You cried out into your bedding, the burning sting sending tingles all through your body. There was a pause in his slaps, and suddenly you felt two fingers slide into your cunt.

“Tight, babygirl,” He growled, leaning forward to bite into the reddened skin of your ass. You whimpered at the pain that burnt into your brain. “Can you even take my cock, I wonder?”

You were silent, save for the guttural panting into your bed. Apparently, Jungkook didn’t want that – instead he growled.

“I asked you a question, slut!” He snapped, slapping your thigh hard enough to leave a red mark.

“Y-Yes, I can take your cock! Please, Jungkook,” You begged, making him chuckle.

But it wasn’t a chuckle you were used to hearing from him. No, this one was dark and held no kind undertone to it.

As you were lost in your thoughts of analyzing his laugh, he pulled his fingers out and positioned himself behind you. You tuned back in to the sound of his zipper being undone.

You inhaled, feeling the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance. You exhaled as he began to push into you. The feeling of your walls burning at the stretch reminded you that he hadn’t even prepared you. However, the stretch definitely wasn’t unpleasant.

“You better hold on tight, little slut,” He growled, gripping your hips to leverage.

As he pulled out, you gripped onto the sheets, already feeling the power he held before he even began to fuck you. The pace he set was unreal, unlike anything you’d ever felt. His cock hammered into your g-spot, stars lining your vision as you cried out. However, you own cries weren’t even reach your hazed-up brain. All you could think about was the intense orgasm Jungkook was about to force out of you through fucking you alone – no contact to your clit.

“Fuck, you gonna cum?” Jungkook growled, reaching forward to wrap a fist in your hair.

You whimpered out your response, not even able to formulate a response as the pain from your scalp seemed to be the nail in the coffin. You exploded, your legs trembling and failing to hold your body up as you came. Through your own shrill cries and pleasure, Jungkook came as well. You came to with the heat of his release leaking down your thighs.

“Fuck,” He sighed, laying on the bed. You fell to your side, thighs still trembling at the force of your orgasm.

You quickly realized Jungkook wasn’t going to make any move to take care of you. Not like he had last time.

This is what made you realize that he truly was different this time.

He wasn’t…Jungkook.

As Jungkook went into rest mode, you sat on the bed, hugging your knees. If you didn’t know any better, you could mistake him for a corpse.

He looked so lifelike, however, he was completely motionless – not even breathing. After all, androids didn’t breathe. Even though you had experienced life with Jungkook before, this new model was completely different.

The old model possessed such a lifelike disposition, he smiled and laughed. He showed emotion and you could feel his love for you in every touch he made.

This Jungkook, however, was nothing but a robot.

A robot.

The phrase caused tears to sting your eyes as it hit you finally; this wasn’t the same Jungkook.

He looked and sounded the same to the old one; but it just wasn’t him. There was no doubt about it.

You crawled out of the bed, grabbing your phone off the nightstand before you left the bedroom – not even sparing a glance to the android in your bed.

As you walked down the hallway, you brought up an old contact that you hadn’t brought up in ages.

It rang a few times before a deep, groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Yoongi…? It’s ______,” There was a beat of silence before you could hear muffled rustling of fabric.

“_____? What are you callin’ me for? It’s been…months,” He said, sounding much more awake now. “Are you alright?”

“I just need to know something,” You breathed, sitting on your couch while trying to will yourself not to cry.

“What is it?”

“Can you still…reprogram androids?”

Yoongi threw down his coat and it landed unceremoniously on the couch. He never really was one for tact.

“Let me get this straight…” He sighed, pacing around your living room, running his fingers though his already messy black hair. “You want me to illegally reprogram your sex robot…because he’s changed?”

“Yes!” You cried, though kept your voice quiet since it was late at night.

“What do you mean ‘changed’?” Yoongi pressed, finally taking a seat on your coffee table – you couldn’t even bring yourself to chastise him.

“When I first got him…it was like he was human! He had emotions! And then he was recalled for being defective,” You explained, crossing your arms over his chest. “A-And I bought him again but now it’s like he’s…he’s…”

“A robot?” Yoongi finished for you, making you nod. “Those who make androids…they keep pressing the limits they can go to with the AI. But sometimes, they press too far and end up creating another form of intelligent life. When they realize this, they have to backtrack – they can’t lose control of their androids.”

“S-So you’re saying…Jungkook was too human so they had to ‘fix’ him?” Yoongi nodded at your words, making tears sting in your eyes. “There was nothing to be fixed!”

“Not to you…but an intelligent android like that…” Yoongi sighed again. “Though we have this technology, we’re still scared that the robots will make up obsolete and overtake the world.”

“Yoongi…” Still fighting back tears, you took a seat on the couch, staring at Yoongi’s tense back. “Can you bring him back or not?”

There was a beat of silence, as if Yoongi was weighing his option. Slowly he looked at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I can…” He answered, making a smile spread across your face. “But there’s a catch…”

“Catch…?”

Yoongi stood up again. Though he wasn’t the tallest man, having him standing over you like this was certainly intimidating and you found yourself struggling to breathe at the dark look in his eyes.

“If I reprogram him; there’s the possibility that it can go wrong, and he could end up…” He trailed off, trying to think of a way to word it. “dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” You prodded, biting your lip at the fear his words put in you.

“I mean, the company could have put a safeguard in place to make it impossible for him to reprogrammed. One wrong move, and he’d turn into a monster. He could kill you, kill me. He could turn vengeful and try to kill the people who created him.” Yoongi explained, sinking his hands into his pockets to quell the shaking in them. “There’s also the possibility that the company will be able to detect that he’s been tampered with and you and I would both be on a one-way trip to federal prison.”

You opened your mouth to speak but, words failed you. What could you respond with? You looked up at him, as if asking for help. You swear you could spot a shred of sympathy in his gaze. Suddenly, he took a seat beside you and sighed.

“_____,” He said, locking eyes with you. “You have to decide if you want to risk that. Or if maybe…it’s time to let him go.”

What to do...

#bts #bts smut #bts scnearios #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts preferences #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #btssmutclub

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unlockthelore · 5 years

Text

Knee-jerk

Title: Her Name is Love

Chapter 2: Knee-jerk

Relationship: Hiei/Kurama | Minamino Shuuichi

Character(s): Hiei (YuYu Hakusho), Kurama | Minamino Shuuichi

Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Post-Canon, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, POV Alternating, Attempt at Humor, Feelings Realization, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings

Notes: Reposted from AO3.

Summary: Hiei has a talk with Yusuke and it proves to be more fruitful than he expected.

“You did what ?!” Yusuke slammed his fist down on the counter making some of the nearby customers turn to look in their direction to Hiei’s dismay.

Despite his obvious mortification at Yusuke’s lack of ability to stay quiet, the former spirit detective looked seconds away from bursting into laughter. Honestly, Hiei was cursing his former self for not just slitting the detective’s throat when he had the chance. Though if he had then he’d have missed conversations like this.

Although Yusuke was prone to overdramatic displays when he found something funny or was ticked off, he was one of the few people that Hiei felt comfortable talking to. More than once, he jokingly referred to himself as Hiei’s best friend and while the fire demon rebuked that at every turn — just this once , Yusuke may have had a point. But he would never admit it aloud when he had that shit-eating grin on his face.

Emerging from the back room, Keiko brushed aside the short curtain hanging overhead and shot her husband a dirty look. Yusuke paled at the sight of her and inched to the side with a nervous chuckle.

“Hiei, why don’t you help me with something outside?”

With one last grimace, Hiei rolled his eyes and made his way around the counter. Keiko tended to the customers that were gradually losing interest in the pair’s conversation but shot Yusuke a glare as he inched past her, muttering soft apologies and pressing his hands together with a curt bow before disappearing into the back. Hiei nodded to her as he passed by and she gave him a slight wave before turning back to the elderly couple that were insistent on telling her about what she needed for a healthy marriage. The topic in question making Hiei shudder and he shoved his hands into his pockets as he followed Yusuke through the kitchen and out into the alleyway adjacent to their shop.

Crates were piled up along the walls and Yusuke took off a few, setting them on the ground as he started to break them down. Motioning with a tilt of the head for Hiei to take care of some of the other boxes, the fire demon gave him a flat stare in return.

“C’mon, there’s so many of them,” Yusuke complained, throwing up his hands.

Hiei raised an eyebrow and glanced at the piles of crates then the pouting detective. “Then you should recycle properly and punctually .” “Oh, so you know about recycling,” Yusuke said, folding his arms across his chest. “Does Kurama have you helping out with that too?”

Hiei glared at him and grabbed one of the crates, breaking it in half over his knee before tossing the remnants aside. Yusuke whistled and chuckled evilly, grabbing another and smashing it against the wall, dropping the splintered pieces in a pile with the others. Gradually it became a contest of who could break their crates in the most creative of ways with Hiei winning after smoke began rising from the mark on his arm.

Halfway through piling up the rubble, Yusuke sat down on a pile and pulled his knee to his chest as he listened to Hiei’s account of what happened before he showed up to the shop. The former detective’s eyes were comically wide and his mouth hung open, the corners of his lips twitching at different parts of the story and he sputtered, trying hard not to laugh openly in the fire demon’s face. Hiei could feel the heat rising to his face, knew that he was likely tinging pink in the face and ducked his head in his hands. Yusuke’s snickering was slightly muffled by the hand he held over his mouth and Hiei covering his ears in a poor attempt to hide the way they were reddening.

“You proposed to him by leaving the ring in the pocket of the jacket you gave him in a lobby full of people and said…” Yusuke paused for dramatic effect and Hiei glanced up as he wiggled his fingers, swiping his hands through the air. “Nothing?”

“It was an accident,” Hiei grumbled as he ran his fingers through the baby hairs at the back of his neck, “I was wearing the jacket and I ended up—”

“You proposed on accident?!” Yusuke shouted, startling Hiei from his explanation and the fire demon was certain that everyone on the block heard him. “How did you propose on accident ?!”

The last thing Hiei expected was Yusuke pacing back and forth. The amusement in his face had turned to sheer horror and his fingers nestled in his hair, musing up the slicked back hairdo as he tried to wrap his mind around it. Hiei grumbled. Giving him a death tournament, he could get through it like nothing else. A duel to the death with a trained swordsman? Child’s play. Professing his love and asking for forever in a human way to his partner and best friend? Anxious wasn’t even close to describing what he was feeling.

“Yusuke, calm down!” Hiei snapped, standing up to block his path.

“How can I calm down!? You proposed to our friend on accident !”

It sounded even worse when Yusuke put it like that. Proposing in such a way wasn’t his intention. All he wanted to do was make sure that Kurama wasn’t cold on his way home. And he’d been working so much on the ring that he carried it with him no matter where he went.

“Maybe he didn’t find the ring?” Hiei muttered, a weak and likely idiotic point to make but one that gave him a small bubble of hope .

Yusuke leveled him with a flat look then his lips pinched together, eyes wandering and he shrugged. “Okay, that’s true.”

Hiei sighed and leant against the wall as they talked about the ring itself. It was a mindless knee-jerk reaction to take it with him where he went but the thought of giving it to Kurama had crossed his mind once or twice. But before he could actually work up the nerve to do so, his mind would wander. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t worthy of him, there was so much more that he could’ve done for it. Even a yatagarasu wouldn’t have been able to predict that Hiei would be so conflicted with this. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t offered himself to the fox in more ways than one, professed his undying devotion and solidified his place at side.

It was just that expressing it was difficult and he was constantly at war with himself to do something that was worthy of Kurama but also within the realm of his own capabilities. Spirits knew that he would have razed the three ( four? ) realms for him, so why was this so hard?

A gentle chiming noise came from one of the stacks of crates and Yusuke looked over, both of their phones lying side by side, it was Hiei’s that was ringing while the fire demon was sitting with his head in his hands and ignoring the sound.

“Hey, Kurama is calling.”

Hiei tensed up. Looking up at the sky, it was getting darker and some of the street lamps were already starting to turn on. Which meant that the fox would be getting off work sooner than later and his window of opportunity to figure out what to do about the ring was closing. He weighed his options. Rejecting the call would have been bad but answering it might have given him a clue to whether Kurama knew or not. And the fox was the last person that he wanted to run from.

“Answer it,” Hiei sighed, clasping his hands over his ears and rubbing his fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp. Besides his quickening heartbeat, he could hear Yusuke’s muffled words as he talked to Kurama. The conversation short and sweet but once Hiei looked up to confirm what had happened, his breath hitched at the tenseness in the former detective’s back.

“Hiei…”

“What?”

Yusuke turned to look at him as if he was trying to size him up for a coffin or what flowers he’d prefer at his shrine. “He knows,” he said solemnly.

Every thought that Hiei had. Every plan that he made, every avenue that he thought he had was gone in an instant.

“... What .”

“ He knows .”

Hiei pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to stave off this feeling of panic . “Yusuke, you’re not making sense. Knows what ?”

“The ring, stupid !”

They stared at one another for a moment and Hiei sunk back against the wall, the dampness of it welcoming against his heated skin. Though the cold dread that washed over him was enough to chill him to the bone. Yusuke sat down heavily on the crates, the wood creaking beneath his weight and his head resting in his hands. Hiei stared up at the sky and wondered if Koenma was watching them right now and laughing himself into a fit.

Someone had to find this funny because he was not laughing.

The door to the kitchen opened and Keiko stepped out with a slight smile.

“Are you guys feeling any be—” She took one look at them, her gaze flicking from Hiei to Yusuke then back. “--- “What happened?”

“Keiko,” Yusuke said. “Can Hiei stay over?”

Worry creased her brow and she nodded. “Of course, how long does he—”

“The rest of his life,” Yusuke interrupted, nodding seriously.

Hiei stared up at the sky and wondered if this was punishment for everything wrong he’d done in his life. Of course he didn’t regret it but why ?

“What?”

Yusuke sighed and dragged his hand down the side of his face. “He proposed to Kurama.”

“Well, that’s gr—” Keiko began, her bright smile directed at Hiei and the fire demon glanced at her before looking away.

“On accident,” Yusuke interrupted again, his eyes narrowed at Hiei who glared at him in turn.

There was a short pause between the words sinking in the air between the three of them and Keiko speaking. “..What?”

Hiei could feel the weight of her gaze on him and the slight throbbing of a headache coming on. Bending over to rest his arms on his knees, he grumbled as he rubbed his temple. “Yusuke’s stupidity is rubbing off on me.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who left an engagement ring in the pocket of a jacket.”

Hiei snarled, seconds from wrapping his hands around the former detective’s throat. “That’s not the point!”

“Both of you calm down,” Keiko said, putting herself between Hiei and Yusuke, whether to keep them from fighting or protect her husband from being strangled neither of them knew. “Maybe he doesn’t know.”

“Oh he knows,” Yusuke said, leaning back with his arms crossed, head tilting towards the phones lying on one of the crates. “He just called.”

Keiko stared at the phones blankly then without hesitation, she turned towards Hiei and said, “Well, you definitely have to go home now.”

Hiei closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. How had it come to this? His undoing would be the simple fact that he wanted closeness with his partner and decided to go about it in a way that he thought would make Kurama happy. While he descended into the depths of his mind, a hand set on his shoulder and he glanced up from between his fingers, Keiko looking down at him with a soft smile and understanding in her eyes.

“Hiei, you want to marry Kurama, right?” She asked, crouching down in front of him to be at eye level.

The first thought that crossed Hiei’s mind was to ask her why she was stating the obvious. The second was that his behavior was almost like an indication that he didn’t want to marry Kurama. Why wouldn’t he want to? Kurama was his best friend, his partner, the person who not only saved his life but changed him irrevocably and made him not only want to be better but to live . It went without saying that he loved him but the idea of being rejected by him was unsettling.

The conflict must have shown on his face as Keiko squeezed his shoulder and he looked at her, sighing.

“Of course.”

She smiled, nodding approvingly. “Then this should be a good thing. The worst thing that could happen is—”

Yusuke’s hands rested on her shoulders and guided her back to where her back rested against his knees.

“Keiko, bad pep talk. We don’t mention the worst thing that could happen,” Yusuke whispered.

Her eyes slowly closed and she took a deep breath, her voice eerily calm as she spoke. “Urameshi Yusuke, if you do not remove your hands, you won’t want to come home.”

Immediately, Yusuke’s hands raised. “Yes ma’am.”

Despite his whispering, their conversation was audible and the look of annoyance on her face almost made Hiei laugh. She gave him a soft smile and Yusuke a pointed glare before kissing his temple and heading back inside.

“So, Genkai’s temple is still empty right?”

Hiei sighed, rising to his feet and walking over to grab his phone. “I’m not sleeping in Genkai’s temple.”

“I’m just saying, options. Y’know?”

“The option is that I’m going home.” Hiei pocketed his phone and turned on his heel, heading down the alleyway. “And you can finish this by yourself.”

Yusuke leapt to his feet and called after him. “Hiei, come on! These are a lot of crates, man!”

Hiei smiled to himself. Although Yusuke was offering him an “out” of sorts, he knew that the detective was wanting him to face this as well. Though he was definitely going to take the long way home to sort out his thoughts. Hopefully, he could beat Kurama there.

“I hope Kurama makes you sleep on the couch for accidentally proposing to him!’

Shoulders shaking, Hiei ducked his head as he laughed. Yusuke’s desperation at being left alone with the recycling would keep him warm for the next few hours.

“Okay, Hiei, wait. I didn’t really mean that. Hiei!”

By the time that he made it home, the lights were on and there was a pair of familiar shoes in the entry hall. He toed off his shoes and made his way inside, bypassing a few of the plants that greeted him with their vines waving as he passed by. A sure sign that the worst possible outcome had come to fruition as he turned the corner, seeing the redhead sitting in his armchair with a book on his lap and his chin resting in his hand. When Hiei stepped in, despite the distance between them, he knew that it could easily be crossed on either side with a few quick strides.

Kurama’s gaze drifted languidly from his book to Hiei and once green met crimson, it was as if the world stopped spinning for a moment.

"Welcome home,” Kurama finally said, marking his page and closing the book, setting it aside on the table.

Hiei’s gaze followed it but he noticed something different about Kurama. Namely, the piece of jewelry on his finger that looked very familiar.

“Thanks…” Hiei muttered when he remembered his voice, staring at the ring openly.

“Was there something you wanted to tell me earlier?” Kurama said, and the smile he wore knocked the air from Hiei’s chest and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.

“...Yeah.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he averted his gaze from the fox, looking everywhere else before finally glancing towards him with a slight smile. “Marry me?”

#kurahi #kurama x hiei #hiei x kurama #yyh #yu yu hakusho #my fanfiction

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