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iamverysmall-andihavenomoney · 4 years

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Sitting in Their Lap at Random

Pairing(s): Suna Rintarō x Gender Neutral! Reader, Akaashi Keiji x Gender Neutral! Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi x Gender Neutral! Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi x Gender Neutral! Reader, Tendō Satori x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Strong language, a little jealousy in Yamaguchi’s, fluff across the board

Suna Rintaro:

It wasn’t anything new, for you to want to sit in your boyfriend’s lap.

When he was playing with his friends, online? Straddling his lap, both of you comfortably seated as he continues his game.

When you two were watching a movie? If you weren’t already lying down, you would be seated on his lap, his his well-manicured nails gently scratching your scalp.

When you two are on the train? Sitting on his lap to ‘save space’ for the people around you.

You two are insanely affectionate with one another.

Behind closed doors, at least.

PDA can happen, on occasion, but you guys didn’t partake in it all that much.

Usually, near immediately after he or you had gotten home, he’d be dragging you to the couch to pull you into his lap.

Or he would be be dragging you to the bedroom to a ‘mandatory afternoon nap’

However, today was different.

The twins were over, along with a few other members of the volleyball club.

They’d been here all day and even though you loved every one of the Inarizaki team members, you wanted your boyfriend’s affection.

When you come to the conclusion that they have yet to leave and probably won’t be leaving anytime soon, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Walking over to where your boyfriend sat on the couch with his friends, you halt in front of them, letting him finish what he was saying to Osamu. Once he’s finished, he just grins up at you, already knowing exactly what you want. So, he brings a hand to yours and helps you straddle his lap, your knees sitting on the couch on either side of his hips.

With a soft hand combing to gently and soothingly drag his nails over your scalp, he ignores the looks he’s getting.

“Ya’ gettin’ soft on us, ‘ere, Suna?” Atsumu casts a smirk at you two, while you tuck your face into Rintarō’s neck.

Rintarō just casts him a smug look, “You’re just jealous that you can’t keep anyone.”

With an off-handed ‘fuck you’ coming from the blonde twin cast in his direction, Rintarō turns his attention solely back to you, gently kissing your head and rubbing circles against the small of your back, pressing your body against his.

No one that didn’t see you both near everyday, knew about his affection towards you, about the way that he absolutely adored holding you, being held by you, laying under you, laying on top of you... Just anything that would insure that he was touching you.

With his gentle, soothing touches taking away the toils of the long day, you find yourself relaxing and falling asleep against your boyfriend. Rintarō, uncaring to the fact his former teammates were watching, gently pulls you closer to him, a soft smile on his face and a sense of pride in his heart.

You were all his and he loved getting to show you off like this. His partner, who found comfort in his embrace, in just being in his presence.

Aran grins, “This happen often?”

“You have no idea.” Rintarō delivers a kiss to your forehead, “Not that I’m complaining. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Akaashi Keiji:

Keiji was a hard worker.

Anyone who said otherwise didn’t know him.

You swore, all he did was work sometimes, it worries you.

Tonight was one of the many nights that he’d ended up not coming to bed, because he’d been so caught up in his writing.

You’d become accustomed to it.

Not that you were complaining. Keiji always made time for you and always apologized on nights like tonight when he’d had a particular inspiration that caused him to get enveloped in his writing.

You were just glad he’d gotten a large dinner, in case this was one of those days he got so caught up, he’d write through the night, then be too tired to eat breakfast.

It happened more often that you wished it did, but you knew he always took care of himself, afterwards, so you didn’t nag too much.

Tonight, like most nights, you were craving your fiancé’s warm embrace.

So, pulling one of your smaller blankets onto your shoulders, and letting the rest fall around your frame,

You walk into Keiji’s office.

He doesn’t look up but for a spit second.

But his soft, sweet smile (the same one that made you mELT on the spot) and nearly unnoticed nod confirmed that you could stay.

You were almost always allowed to stay.

Unless he was frustrated with his work.

He didn’t want to accidentally take it out on you (though you know he never truly would, you respected his wishes)

Standing in the doorway, you lean against the doorframe to his office, your favorite blanket held against you by your hands, balling up the corners, just under your chin.

Keiji knew exactly what you were here for, eyes soft as they meet yours. His nod is only slight, but it’s enough for you to notice, padding over to him and silently waiting next to his chair so he could finish his sentence.

Though once a period marked his spot on the page, he pushed his chair back a bit, turning it towards you. It was a large, comfy chair, bought for exactly this reason. Keiji silently holds a hand out for you to grasp while you straddle his lap in the chair, knees tucked on either side of him, the blanket slipping loosely over your bodies as you lean into him.

Tucking the blanket around your shoulders so it wouldn’t fall, you wrap your arms around your fiancé’s waist, your head finding purchase in the crook of his neck. With the side of your head leaning against his shoulder and your face tucked in his neck, your soft breaths tickling his skin, he can’t help but smile.

It wasn’t long before the soft tapping of the keys on his typewriter lulled you to sleep. The only problem Keiji had, when this happened, was that it was hard to get up from the chair with you, without waking you, if he finished. And after finishing the chapter he was working on, he looks down at your sleeping form with a sleepy smile.

You were so precious to him and you didn’t even realize it, did you? He wouldn’t be the man he was, without your unconditional love and support for him. And he would spend everyday of the rest of his life, thanking you for it.

However, right now, he was moving his hand to the side of the rolling chair, hand connecting with the lever to recline the chair (- which he most definitely hadn’t gotten for this exact reason...) After reclining you both, he pulls you up a bit more against him, slipping his glasses off and placing them on the table.

Keiji’s arms come to wrap around you, securing you against his chest, the sound of your soft breaths and the classical movie he had playing through his study to calm himself, lulling him to sleep as well.

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

It wasn’t often that Wakatoshi even got to sit down, long enough for you to get to cuddle with him in his lap

He was up before you were, every morning.

Though he would always wake you up just enough so he could tell you he loved you before he left.

But that’s another story, back to this one

He did get to share a lunch break with you, but having more than twenty minutes for lunch was usually rare.

He’s always there for dinner, but he’s always so exhausted that he’s likely to just take a shower and pass out, after.

When he was chosen for Japan’s Olympic team? His schedule only got busier.

So who was there to remind him that it was okay to take a break, sometimes?

His lovely partner.

So, on Sundays, his one day off from constant training... Who was there to sit in his lap and prevent him from trying to busy himself with other things, like grocery shopping and overall things that could wait?

That was you, as well.

And who would he be to push his cute partner away when they huffily sat on his lap?

Wakatoshi had only just sat down from his work on attempting to clean your whole house, this morning. He really never took a break, always wanting to busy himself with something.

So, when I say you jumped on the opportunity, I mean you jumped on him.

Olive colored eyes move to peer at you, a deep, baritone chuckle escaping your boyfriend. “Trying to make a point?” He muses as you get comfortable in his lap, already holding two water bottles, and your lunch for the day.

Two Bentos that you spent time making, the previous night, something you tried to do everyday with one another, to make sure that you both got at least a little time together. Moving your legs to rest on the couch beside him, you lean on the arm of the couch so that you can somewhat turn towards him, still seated in his lap.

“You deserve a break, you know,” You scold lightly, while you open one of the Bentos, allowing your boyfriend to take one from your hands so he can begin eating on his own, a look of amusement on his features as he listens to you. “I could do absolutely nothing and you’d still think I’m deserving of a break. You should keep the same energy when you’re thinking about yourself. As great as it is that you want to keep busy, it’s not healthy. You need you time, where you can tak-”

Gently cradling the back of your head with a large hand, Wakatoshi presses his lips to yours, effectively silencing you. He draws away after a moment, though he doesn’t move, just pressing his forehead against yours. “Stop worrying,” his chest reverberated with his deep voice, making you smile a bit, feeling it against your arm.

“Fine, but only if you promise to stop working yourself into the ground.” You state, narrowing your eyes at him, only for the athlete to chuckle and press his lips to yours, briefly, once again.

“Anything for you, my dear.”

Yamaguchi Tadashi:

Tadashi loves it when you sit on his lap.

Most favorite thing in the world is when you walk up to him and curl up in his lap.

Usually, he finds you do it when you notice he’s been studying too hard or when he seems to need a break from a project.

But he has known you to do it, whenever you get jealous.

So, when you two were out at a bar, having drinks with his former teammates and the bartender began flirting with him...

You weren’t too happy.

He continued to let them know that he was happily spoken for.

But they were persistent.

Even when you made it a point to place multiple kisses on his lips with a pointed glare towards the bartender, they couldn’t take a hint.

After finding yourself in a conversation with Hinata and Kageyama, you were pulled away from your boyfriend.

You were not happy to look over and find him sitting with Tsukishima, Daichi, and Sugawara at one of the tables in the bar, looking very uncomfortable as the bartender continued to flirt with him.

You trusted Tadashi but you knew by the way he continued to swat their hands away that he was uncomfortable.

And something you hated even more than someone flirting with your boyfriend was someone making him uncomfortable.

That was the final straw for you.

Excusing yourself from the two boys, you began to stomp over.

Your eyes had long-since strayed away from Kageyama and Hinata, now on the little booth that held your boyfriend, his best friend, and two of his former upperclassmen, and by extension, the flirty barkeep.

You managed to keep yourself calm...

Until they tried to card a hand through your boyfriend’s long hair. He smacked their hand away, but he couldn’t hide his uncomfortable expression. He hated people touching his hair, unless it was you, of course. With that, you slipped away from the two competing men to walk towards the booth.

“Excuse me?” With a smile so sweet it would give someone cavities and a glare that could send a chill down anyone’s spine, you brush past the bartender to greet your boyfriend where he sat.

All you have to do is tap lightly on his shoulder and he’s grinning, sliding back in his seat so you can slide yourself in his lap. His arms come to wrap themselves around you, his chin resting on your shoulder and his long hair tickling your cheek, making you smile and kiss his cheek.

Then, you turn your gaze back to the bartender, tilting your head a bit, “I’m sorry, did you need something?” You hum, though they only respond with a look of envy, before going to ‘check on’ other customers. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Your utterance is caught by the four men at the table, who just shake their heads and grin in amusement.

Tadashi pinches your sides playfully, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “Jealous, honey?”

Ignoring his question, you lean forward and rest your elbows on the table. “So, everyone... What were we talking about again?”

Tadashi just grins, his hands rubbing your sides as he holds you securely in his lap. He didn’t mind that you were jealous at all, especially is you ended up in his lap like this, every time.

Tendō Satori:

Satori is...

Well, Satori is Satori (I’m in love PLEASE)

Boy is touch starved as HELL

He fucking craves your touch, all of the time.

You two will be working in his chocolaterie and mans will pull you into a hug ANY TIME you’re not helping a customer.

Your regulars know that you two are happy and very much in love.

Because even after you both got married, you’ve both stayed in the honeymoon phase.

It never stopped.

Every time you hug him, he just... Melts.

So when you come to sit on his lap and feed him chocolate while you both have the shop closed for a lunch break.

His heart melts.

His expression melts.

His everything just melts.

Motherfucker licks your cheek to be goofy, but that’s only after you start poking fun at the way that even now he still melts at your touch.

Flipping the sign around, the red-haired male slumps into a seat. Despite his actions seeming exhausted, you could tell by the grin adorning his lips that he was happy. And how could he not be?

So many people loved him and his chocolaterie... And he had you. How could he not be happy with his life? Even if life had taken him through the ringer to get here, he was finally here and he was happy, with you. Speaking of you, his eyes flickered over to you as he noticed you bringing some of both yours and his personal favorite treats.

He tilts his head at you as you approach him. “Watcha doin’?” He cooes as you come to stand in front of him.

You silently nudge the outside of his feet with one of your own, signaling for him to sit up a bit and close his legs. He doesn’t say a word as he adjusts himself to sit up, already reaching for your waist so you can settle down comfortably in his lap. He tugs on you, causing you to fall into him, laughter escaping you both.

Feeding yourself a chocolate, you smile, before then popping on into his mouth. “Spending time with my husband. Something wrong with that?”

“Not in the least, my dear,” he cooes into your ear, trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks, his eyes unable to trail from you. He still couldn’t believe you were all his. That you loved him.

“You’re so cute, Tori,” you coo, poking his cheek. “You still act the same way that you did when we first started dating, you know.”

He just grins and shrugs, “And somebody loves me for it,” he practically sings the words to you, taking a chocolate from your hands to pop into his mouth, before proceeding to lick your cheek and purposefully smear chocolate on your face.

“Tori, that’s gross!”

General Masterlist:

@thathoneybee3 @bratkugo

#🤍.suna #saffron’s works #suna rintarō comfort #suna rintarō x reader #suna comfort #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi keiji comfort #akaashi comfort #ushijima wakatoshi comfort #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima comfort #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #yamaguchi tadashi comfort #yamaguchi comfort #tendō satori comfort #tendō satori x reader #tendō comfort

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azurevi · 4 years

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enstars charas with an overworked s/o

First time writing enstars🤡 this took kinda long becz exams but i hope its good ^^ also kinda self indulgent hhh

Characters : natsume, ibara, leo, tatsumi, arashi, keito

Natsume

Natsume watches from the doorway as your head bobs about, hands tapping unrhythmically on the keyboard. You're already falling asleep, yet you still refuse to go to bed.

Normally he won't interfere with your work, knowing that you're fully capable of making the right decisions, but it's a pain seeing you pushing yourself so hard.

"Still working?" he steps in, holding a steaming drink in his hands.

Your head snaps up at his voice, and you nod. It's a project that you've put off for far too long, and of course, you have to suffer the consequences.

"The deadline is two days later, if I don't finish this section today I probably won't make it in time,"

He sets the mug beside your hand, observing your wandering gaze and disheveled hair which you must've been running your hand through. "I don't think you can finish it, though. You already look worn out."

You raise the mug to your lips and take a sip of whatever it holds. The drink tastes sweet and refreshing in your mouth, and almost instantly your muscles relax. "You aren't any better, you know,"

That's true. Being a nightowl himself, Natsume's words don't really seem all that persuasive. At first you would lecture him about how little he rested, but you gave up eventually. You suppose he's built differently, seeing as he can still perform well after only three hours of sleep.

"Pretty sure I'm in better condition," he says, pulling a chair beside you and popping down. The wood scraps against the floor, creaking slightly. It's usually a sound that you find unbearable, but you seem to have missed it as you try to continue your work.

"Come here, love," he stretches his arms out, wiggling his fingers expectantly. You raise a brow, contemplating whether you should give in. It won't be a surprise if you fall asleep right away in his arms.

"But work…" you sigh, tearing your eyes from him. His shoulders drop immediately, a frown forming from the rejection. "You're just gonna leave me hanging? How cruel…"

You know he's just messing with you when he let out a dramatic huff, but somehow his defeated look still tucks at your heartstrings.

"Fine, fine…" you sigh, sneaking your arms around his torso and burying your head into his neck. His chest hums with satisfaction as he digs his fingers into your messy hair, soothing out knots he finds along the way gently. With every stroke you're getting drowsier and drowsier, and you know that you're supposed to be working, but the feeling of his hand running through your locks and the steady rise of his chest convince you to stay.

You fall asleep almost immediately after you close your eyes. Natsume calls out to you and smiles when he hears your slight snoring instead. It's probably the best to get you to the bed and tug you in, but he decides to stay in his spot for a moment longer and relish your presence.

Ibara

Ibara knows from experience just how hard it can be to sway you when you’ve made up your mind. That’s why he doesn’t try to sweet talk you or lecture you into sleeping.

No, if he really wants to get you to listen, he will have to trick you into it.

Almost like a hunter watching his prey, Ibara leans against the doorway as he tries to come up with a flawless plan for his mission. Several empty cans are littered around the desk and he can already smell the aroma of coffee from so far away. You had your fist in your hair, and every once in a while you had to stretch your muscles awkwardly from the lack of movement.

“Don’t you think you deserve a break?” he walks towards you, peeking over your shoulder at the work you’re struggling with. It’s yet another project for the other units, and you seem to be stuck in a dilemma.

“I don’t feel like sleeping without finishing this,” you say.

“Right, but I think you added an extra 0 here,” he points at the paper you're working on, where the value had been increased tenfold because of your negligence.

“Oh goodness,” you sigh deeply, immediately erasing the zero. “How amateurish of me,”

Ibara watches as you rub the space between your eyes, trying to soothe the looming headache that was making your work even harder. “It feels like all the muscles in my body died,”

“You’ve been sitting for hours after all,” Ibara suddenly smiles, his eyes diminishing into thin slits. You don’t need to hear anything to know that he’s plotting something behind the smile. “What if I give you a short massage?”

Well… that is unexpected.

“A massage,” you repeat.

“That’s right,”

Now that is interesting. You’ve heard from Hiyori about how good Ibara’s massages are for more times than you can count, and it’s something you’ve always wanted to try. It just keeps slipping your mind. A massage sounds just as appealing as a five star meal right now considering how tired your limbs feel.

“Come on, I promise it’ll be worth it,”

“Fine,”

His smile widens even more. “Alright then! Please get onto the bed,”

“You wanna do it on the bed?” you frown. “I’ll fall asleep,”

“It’s not gonna be long,”

This sounds way too risky especially with the amount of work that’s still unfinished, but his grin is unwavering, as if he already knows what your answer will be.

“God, alright,” you admit defeat and throw yourself onto the bed face first. There is a moment of quiet shuffling before Ibara settles himself behind you, making sure he isn't crushing you under his weight. His hands find their way to your back, and start working their magic.

"Normally I would get massage oils, but that'll be for next time," Ibara says in a low voice, as if trying to lull you to sleep. Hiyori was right about his skills -- you don't think you've ever had a massage so satisfying before. Somehow, he just knows where to knead and how much pressure to put. With every passing minute your muscles are getting looser, as is your mind. You almost feel bad experiencing this for free.

You're about to fall asleep when something suddenly jolted your consciousness, like a big slap to your face. You have no idea how long you've been laying down in that hazy state, but you've still got work to do.

"That was the most incredible massage ever but I have to work now…" is what you're trying to say, but the words come out too jumbled and incoherent to be understood. When you try to get up, Ibara presses you back down, insisting that he's not done with the massage yet.

"I'm going to fall asleep for real," you argue weakly as your body slumps back into the mattress. Ibara watches as your words cease and your face loosens up, mouth slightly ajar as you finally indulge yourself to sleep. Maybe you'll be mad at you in the morning, but seeing you rest makes everything worth it.

Leo

This is so, so ridiculous.

You've been telling Leo to go to bed for the past two hours, but did he listen? Evidently not, seeing as he's clinging to your arm with half-lidded eyes that are failing him every two seconds.

"Just go to sleep first, kay? I still have tons of stuff to do," you flip the pile of complicated documents around, not wanting to spare them another glance. Alas, there isn't much time left before your work is due, and the only way you can think of to tackle this is to keep pushing through no matter how worn out your body feels.

Your head is throbbing and somehow your sight just won't focus. You're pretty sure you're starving too, but you feel no incentive to leave your seat and grab snacks. No, you have to finish your work as soon as possible.

This might've been a lot easier if not for Leo. In the middle of your working he suddenly jolted awake and whined about wanting to cuddle with you. It's no surprise though, considering how often the two of you cling to each other during your sleep, but tonight just doesn't work out.

"Aren't you tired too? I can't sleep without you…" Leo mumbles.

"Pretty sure you're falling asleep as you speak," you say, even though you shouldn't be the one talking right now, not when you're also getting groggy just from his warmth and presence.

When you turn to look at him, his face is squished against your arm, mouth slightly ajar as he snores. To prevent him from waking up again, you decide to tuck him in.

Which is a big mistake, because just the sight of the bed is enough to knock you out. Also because Leo's not letting go of your arm even in his sleep.

"Come to rest, please…" he mumbles quietly and you sigh. Trying to work when your body is screaming isn't going to do much anyway, you suppose, and you flop yourself onto the mattress with the boy. Leo may be childish at times, but everything he does comes from wishing for your wellbeing.

Tatsumi

Lying to Tatsumi feels like committing the worst crime ever, but the guilt of going to sleep with your work still unfinished is even greater.

That explains why you're here under the dim light of the desk lamp against Tatsumi's advice, trying to fight the sleepiness getting to your head as you type away on the keyboard. Just a few more pages and you will go to sleep, you decide, but 'a few more pages' is looking a lot like five essays right now.

You lean back against the chair, throwing your head back. You dare not close your eyes, because you're sure a second longer than an usual blink and you'll be a goner.

"Come on, come on…" you return to the original position, shoulders slumped and eyes squinting as you try to string sentences together. What is usually an easy task has become an impossible mission, and the voice at the back of your head suggesting you to give up isn't any help.

Absorbed in your work, you fail to notice the ruffling of the blanket and the shuffling of slippers behind you. When Tatsumi sets his hands on the back of your chair and calls you, you flinch dramatically.

"Oh," you sigh after calming down. "Did I wake you up?"

"Not really," he says. "I thought you agreed to go to sleep,"

You grimace at his words that remind you how you made a false promise with him when all he wanted was for you to take care of yourself. "I know I did, but I couldn't really fall asleep thinking of all this stuff," you gesture vaguely at the screen.

"I don't think you're doing well though,"

As if trying to prove his point, a yawn escaped your lips and tears blurred your vision. "I suppose not,"

He sits back onto the bed, reaching out so that he can hold your hands in his. "It's no use trying to work in your current state, you know? I know that you're feeling stressed out from all the work piling up, but rest is important for your productivity too. And I'd hate to see you overworking yourself," he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's go to bed first, and we'll tackle whatever's on your plate tomorrow, alright?"

He doesn't have to say much to sway you. It's one of his charms anyways -- being able to persuade you without even trying.

Arashi

Arashi glances at the clock. 1am. You've been working at your desk since 8, and she can see that you're already starting to fall asleep.

"Sweetheart? You should go rest," she says softly, resting her arms on your shoulders from behind. This brings your mind back to the present, and you sigh realizing that you've zoned out once again.

"Is this due soon?" Arashi asks.

"Not quite, but I don't want to pile everything up. I'm supposed to finish this part today but so many things happened that hindered my plans," you rub you the corners of your eyes. "And I'm already feeling tired,"

"Then you should probably sleep, right? Lack of sleep can mess your face up easily," she turns to cup your face, professionally observing your skin and missing the blush on your face. "You still look cute, but I'd be really sad if you became a victim of sleep deprivation~"

Her voice sounds light and casual, but you can tell that she's genuinely worried about your health. You pull her into a hug, burying your head in her clothes. She always gives the best hugs, hugs that understands you without having to exchange words, hugs that reassure you and rid you of anything on your mind, that remind you even if the world turned its back on you, you'd still have a home to come to.

"Let's go to bed," you suggest, voice woozy.

"Sure, but let's do some skincare routine first!"

You always enjoy doing routines with her even though you're never one to pay much attention to yourself. But something about her being close and taking care of your face makes you feel at ease, and with her soft hands working on your cheeks, you quickly fall asleep.

Noticing your dropping head, Arashi lets out a sigh before carrying you in her arms, planting a light kiss on your forehead

"Sweet dreams, my love,"

Keito

When you started dating Keito, Kuro was quite delighted. One because he never believed someone could actually put up with the man, and two because someone can finally keep an eye on his atrocious working schedule.

What he didn't expect though, is that you're just as much of a hard worker as Keito.

As the night passes, the two of you are still working incessantly. Except from the occasional small talks, there's only the sound of paper and keyboard in the room. The tea he brewed a while ago has already been emptied. You turn to look at the green-haired man, and although you can only see his back, he doesn't seem to be too affected by all this work. Perhaps his monstrous workload back in Yumenosaki Academy has turned him into a machine who doesn't feel tired.

But that can't be true. Surely, overworking a lot doesn't make you immune to it. Keito may not be vocal about how he feels, but he's still a human, and he's bound to feel tired,

The tapping sound on his end pauses abruptly as he turns to you, only to meet your observing eyes. This startles him a bit, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You should go rest-" he glances at the clock on the wall and frowns. "-it's already so late,"

"You're one to talk," you retort.

"I can still function without sleeping, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard,"

There it is again. He never seems to acknowledge his own weaknesses, only paying attention to others as he hides his feelings inside the myriad of work thrown at him each day.

"No one can 'function without sleeping', Keito. You're not a superman,"

"..."

Keito's shoulders are still tense, but he seems to be deep in thought as he isn't working on the computer either. After a moment of silence, he shakes his head and resumes typing. Perhaps he's reminded of his responsibilities, of the various roles that he plays, and how he can't afford to let anyone down.

As always, it's hard to move Keito. You brush it off and turn back to your work.

It isn't until Keito stands up to get himself a new mug of tea that he realizes how drained you look. Your eyelids are drooping and even from far away he can notice errors on the computer screen. Your figure is slouched, leaning towards the table like you just want to fall asleep right there but can't.

"You should really go to bed," Keito walks to you, hand resting on the chair's rail.

"Are you going to come with me?"

"What?"

"Are you going to come to bed with me?" you repeat.

"I still have work,"

"Then I'm not gonna rest yet,"

Keito raises his brows. "Are you threatening me with your own health?"

"If this is what I need to do for you to rest, then so be it,"

Silence fills the room. He watches as you tap away on the keyboard, re-typing every once in a while because your fingers just can't seem to find the keys. It's almost painful to watch.

"How incorrigible," Keito sighs. "Alright. Let's go,"

You jump to your feet immediately, dragging him to the bedroom. "No sneaking out after I fall asleep, okay? You have to rest for real,"

"Fine," Keito grunts.

The moment his head falls onto the pillow, he swears he can slip into dreamland right away. You throw your arm across his torso and he instinctively rests his head atop yours, listening as your breathing becomes more and more calm.

The both of you may be hopeless cases, but you always find a way to hold each other up.

#enstars x reader #ensemble stars #enstars #natsume sakasaki #ibara saegusa #leo tsukinaga #arashi narukami #tatsumi kazehaya #keito hasumi #sie writes

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

Iskall, Mumbo and Grian + All refusing to go to sleep for the writing prompts?

i’m starting to think this fandom has a thing for seeing the hermits all sleep deprived :P /j

Requests are still open! Please read pinned post before requesting.

...

“Lads, the opening of Sahara is upon us,” Grian announces to his friends outside the doors of their giant shop. “But there is something very important we haven’t done yet that we HAVE to do before we open tomorrow.”

“What’s that?” asks Mumbo dubiously. He knows Grian well enough that he has genuinely no clue what to expect from his best friend.

Grian gives a grin. “A sleepover. We’ve all been working extremely hard these last few months-.”

“Some more than others,” mutters Iskall amusedly.

Grian ignores them. “-and we deserve a break. I suggest an evening of games, followed by lively discussion in one of our bases.”

“Why are you suddenly talking like someone from the 1800s?” demands Iskall.

Again, Grian ignores them. “I suggest my base, but you’re welcome to recommend either of yours. Also, someone will need to bring snacks. Bagsie not me.”

After a moment, Mumbo raises his hand. “I’ll bring snacks.”

“Yes!” Grian beams. “Excellent. Iskall, you can choose the games we play.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mumbo asks, as Iskall’s eyes light up. “I’m a little worried about what they might put us through.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m gonna choose the most deadly ones,” Iskall says, grinning. “Be prepared.”

“Wonderful…”

Grian laughs. “I was thinking more like we go to the casino and spend one last big chunk of our diamonds before Sahara opens tomorrow.”

“Of course you would suggest the game that costs the most money,” Mumbo sighs.

But at Grian’s and Iskall’s hopeful looks, he relents. “Okay, I guess as long as we keep our spending under control…”

…

“That was NOT “under control”,” Mumbo says, as the three leave the casino later that night. “It’s a wonder we have any diamonds left at all.”

“That was awesome!” Grian enthuses. “Yay gambling!”

“I still say we should have spent some of our diamonds at Run,” says Iskall, somewhat poutily.

Grian snickers. “Buddy, that’s your game. You’d be giving diamonds to yourself.”

“Uh huh. Your point?”

Mumbo suppresses a yawn. “Is it time for the “sleep” part of the sleepover yet? It’s getting late and Sahara opens tomorrow.”

“Not yet.” Grian bounces ahead. “Come on!”

Exchanging a look, Mumbo and Iskall follow.

The sky is dark blue but not quite properly pitch black; the sun has set by now, but the moon hasn’t fully risen yet. Grian turns to beckon to his friends. “Let’s go for a fly! Quick, while we can still see.”

With that, he takes off into the air.

Mumbo and Iskall follow with their elytras, keeping close to their friend to make sure they don’t lose him. After a while, they start to enjoy flying through the night sky, all three even breaking away to perform some stunts.

At last, Grian takes them down near his base. The three land on the outside ring, panting and laughing.

“That was amazing,” Mumbo breathes. “I love flying.”

“Oh boy.” Iskall lets out a yawn. “Now I’m getting a bit tired.

Grian unexpectedly pulls off his shoes and socks and dashes for the ocean. Before anyone can stop him, he dives into the cold water.

“Grian, what the heck?!” Iskall yelps.

“Come swim with me!” Grian calls back, floating on his back.

��No! It’s gotta be freezing in there!”

“Grian-,” Mumbo begins.

But Grian dives underwater, so Mumbo breaks off his sentence with a sigh. “What is wrong with him?”

“Heaven knows.”

After a moment of watching their friend, Iskall crosses their arms. “We could just leave him and go to bed.”

“He’ll end up killing himself in one way or another,” responds Mumbo reluctantly. “Is it just me or has he been a bit weird tonight?”

“What, you mean blowing all his diamonds on a gambling game, going for a fly for no apparent reason, and then impulsively jumping into the ocean at nearly midnight? That’s weird Grian behaviour to you?

"Well…” Mumbo pauses. “When you put it that way…”

Iskall chuckles. “No, I do see what you mean. There IS something odd about him.”

Just then, Grian pulls himself out of the ocean and comes to stand in front of them, sopping wet and grinning a little too wildly. “That was fun! What next?”

“Sleep,” Mumbo responds, suppressing another yawn.

“Noooo, not yet! I’m not tired!”

“I am,” Mumbo says. “And don’t forget, we have to get up early for-.”

“Oh, stop mentioning Sahara!” snaps Grian suddenly. “Just stop it! I’m sick of hearing about the stupid opening!”

A pause follows this.

“Grian.” Iskall places their hands on Grian’s shoulders, ignoring how wet his jumper is. “What’s going on with you? Is everything alright?”

Grian’s scowl falls and he lets his head drop. “I don’t want to sleep, that’s all.”

“Why? And what’s with your outburst just now?”

“I…” Grian sighs. “I’m nervous. We’ve worked on this project for months and we’ve poured our hearts and souls into it. What if it goes wrong? What if it fails? What if the opening goes well but we don’t get any business? What if the opening DOESN’T go well? I just… I just don’t want to go to sleep because when I do, morning will come, and it’ll bring the opening with it, and I’m not ready. I-I’m not ready.”

“Buddy…”

Iskall pulls Grian into a hug, again ignoring how wet their clothes are getting. “It’s okay, Grian. We ARE ready. Like you said, we’ve been preparing for months. Everything will be fine.”

“And even if something does go wrong, we’ll deal with it,” adds Mumbo, joining the hug. “We’re two redstone geniuses and one of the best builders on the server. There’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“We’re a team, remember,” Iskall reminds him. “You don’t have to hold all your worries on your own.”

Grian falls silent, considering this. Finally, he lets out a single sniffle. “Th-Thanks. Sorry for being all weird tonight.”

“I mean, you ARE weird,” Iskall chuckles. “But it was fun, not gonna lie. Just what we needed the day before the opening. But seriously, we should probably go to sleep now. The last thing we want is to be sleep deprived at the opening.”

Grian grins sheepishly. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s way past bedtime. I might end up being too overexcited to sleep, though.”

“Same,” Iskall says amusedly. “But we gotta at least try.”

Less than ten minutes later, the three are fast asleep.

#hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #iskall85 #nonbinary iskall #sahara #architechs #vaunna’s requests

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vickyvicarious · 3 years

Text

Parker: "Teach me to like stuff."

Okay, so. I have some thoughts about The French Connection Job's Parker+Eliot subplot. And I think I wanna approach it separately, scene by scene from each of their perspectives, because we have a couple different things going on here. It's still a little more of a Parker meta than an Eliot meta, but I have enough to talk about on both sides, and they're connected enough not to be in separate metas, that I am going to do it this way.

Also going to put this under a cut because it gets long.

Parker

This whole subplot comes on the heels of the last episode, in which there was a lot of banter throughout about Hardison and Parker's dates, and him wanting to branch out into other things than just bungee jumping or whatever. We have seen hints of this throughout S5 so far, even though we're only a few episodes in at this point. They went on a world tour that was pretty much just jumping off of stuff, Hardison said something about them figuring things out. We saw a cute domestic scene of the aftermath of them watching a movie together, except Parker 'fell asleep again' and missed most of it, and Hardison eventually went off to work on his laptop. Parker tried to comfort him last episode about dust mites and ended up freaking him out instead. She talked about how she liked fire and Hardison complained she was missing the point of his offer for a candlelit picnic. They did end on a very romantic note with her still making the effort to make it happen but getting rained out, and him recognizing her effort and listening to him, and projecting the stars around the dark room then having the picnic inside. They are clearly very happy together and both making the effort to meet in the middle, but there are still some disconnects. Which makes sense this early on anyway, but it's not out of place for Parker to start getting worried about her limited interests here given the context of them contrasting Hardison's more widespread interests.

Starting right off the bat - there's a picture limit so I can't show these early moments, but throughout the first part of the episode we see Parker looking visibly upset/pensive. Hardison notices and asks her what's wrong, but is immediately distracted by his package arriving, and then the team gets into the briefing and he doesn't get to talk to her again. (Sidenote that this is pretty OOC for Hardison, and I have to assume he would at the very least come back to her later, but they were clearly trying to get Parker talking with someone else this episode and apparently couldn't come up with a better way to do it. His writing outside of the kitchen stuff was kinda off this whole episode anyway, what with the whole tip thing.) She was about to open up to him, however, which is important. There's also a scene shortly afterwards where she confides in Nate, again after he notices her being upset and asks what's bothering her. She claims everyone but her has 'a thing', and names a few of them. He asks her what she thinks when she sees Michelangelo's David, and when her answer is an immediate assessment of how it's guarded and what she'd have to do to steal it, he kind of hesitates and then goes right back to running the con. He basically gives up on helping her with this once it becomes clear that a quick sentence or two isn't gonna cut it.

So after those brief, unhelpful conversations, that's when she makes a move. She was responding to others before, but this time she comes up to Eliot, clearly nervous. And she asks him to help her feel something.

(I find it very interesting that she doesn't ask Sophie. Sophie is the person who she would usually go to for something like this, after all. But, aside from this being an Eliot-centric episode and just like them sidelining Hardison's possible assistance earlier the writers want Parker to talk with Eliot not Sophie, I think there are maybe a couple reasons why she might go to him here. First, just distance. Eliot is right downstairs, meanwhile at the moment Sophie is however far across town at her theater. Certainly not saying she wouldn't go to Sophie eventually, but maybe that's why not first. Second, she and Eliot have an understanding, one that's been explicitly acknowledged since the start of S4. They are similar in a way entirely unlike the rest of the crew. So while Sophie may understand emotions best, Eliot is the one most likely to know what Parker is talking about when she says she just isn't feeling anything. Which by the way I'm gonna get more into later on. Thirdly they're in love but that's not actually relevant here since all of the team love one another.)

Eliot

On Eliot's side, she approaches him when he's busy in the kitchen. This whole job is stirring up a lot of old feelings in him right from the start. Toby was someone who 'kept him from falling all the way down', and Eliot is deeply concerned for him. At the same time, the way they are running this con is allowing Eliot to take on the role of teacher. Even though his students aren't anything like the eager students Toby has just had taken away from him, Eliot wants so badly to take advantage of this opportunity to teach them - maybe even all the more because they're resistant. He's being given a very rare opportunity to indulge his belief that food is life and to share it on a larger scale. To use the knife to create, not just destroy. Leverage often walks a line between doing both (taking down the bad guys and helping people) but Eliot doesn't often just straight up get to just do the 'creating' part. (I mean, he loves the destruction too, he genuinely loves beating people up and taking down bad guys, but this is a rarer pleasure.) So he's pretty preoccupied with that at first, and initially dismisses Parker just like the other two guys did.

But when she just looks quietly disappointed at his response, he goes still and watches her. We cut away from them here so we don't see his actual response, but it's immediately clear that he's realizing this is actually something deeply important to Parker, and well worth his time.

On to the next part of this scene below.

[Eliot sets a dish down in front of Parker]

Parker: "...It's just food."

Eliot: "It's not just food! Alright, some people could look at it and just see food, but not me. I see art. When I'm in the kitchen I'm, I'm creating something outta nothing, you know what I mean? And sometimes I crush it, sometimes it's crap, but either way - it makes me feel something."

Parker: "Feel what?"

Eliot: "Just... feel."

Parker: [murmuring] "Feel... okay." [looks down at the food and hesitates]

Eliot: "You know, I didn't feel anything for a long time. Then Toby taught me how to cook, and after he did, I started to feel stuff again. That's why I share it through my food - this is my art. This is my art, Parker." [Parker nods, looking worried] "It's like lettin' a stranger in your head, just for a second. And you allow them to feel what you're feeling." [pause] "Look again." [he pushes the plate a little closer to her. Parker takes a deep breath and slowly sets her elbows down on the counter as she stares down at the plate. Eliot watches her closely.]

Parker

At this point I want to talk a little about what Parker means when she says "feel something" and talks about "having a thing." Because we've seen her have interests outside of straightforward thievery before. Sure, most of her hobbies revolves around stealing - casing local banks for fun, for example. But she clearly has a deep love for Christmas and for chocolate. So why doesn't she count those kinds of things as 'feeling something'?

I think it comes down to what Eliot's talking about here. It's a sense of art. Not even necessarily making it yourself, although that certainly applies. Parker likes sweet things like chocolate and donuts, but although she really really likes them they don't make her feel any truly deep emotion. It's more tactile than anything else, just a pleasant flavor. Her love of Christmas isn't the same either in her eyes because it's not uniquely hers. It's something she loves to celebrate but she can't do so all year round, and plenty of other people like Christmas too. This one comes a lot closer, because it definitely seems to be tied up more in community and family for her than something like enjoying chocolate and piñatas, but it still doesn't belong to her in the same way that cooking does to Eliot or theater does to Sophie. And while theoretically her love of base jumping and so on could maybe count, it is still so tied up in her thieving that it doesn't feel separate. She's really good at drawing but only thinks of it as a useful skill, not a creative outlet - this is similar to that.

She has been branching out into a lot of new experiences and emotions lately, and while she's struck out deep into uncharted waters with her relationship with Hardison, once there she's only seeing more and more things that she just... doesn't get. She loves spending time with him, and enjoys what they do together, but she doesn't understand all of those things. Not on a deeper level. She wants to feel that sense of connection to something, wants to feel deeply emotionally moved by something.

And honestly? I think she's way up in her head about it. I'm not trying to dismiss her struggle here at all, but I do think she is stressing herself out about having something uniquely her own. About having a huge interest that speaks so strongly to her personally. And those are amazing to have, but it's really not necessary. She doesn't need a strong secondary passion so much as she needs to let go of trying so hard to force herself into something.

And what's happening in this scene in particular is that Parker is trying so so hard to force herself to feel something. It's evident in her face throughout the whole scene, in her body language. And she is so terrified that it's not going to work that honestly, I'm not surprised at all that it doesn't.

Eliot

On Eliot's side of this scene, he feels like he recognizes where Parker is. This entire job has him remembering how it was to feel nothing. Her phrasing got to him deeply. He wants to reach out and teach her to see something more, just like Toby taught him.

He knew a bit about how to cook before Toby. But it was only seeing Toby's passion that struck something in him, that awoke a part of himself he might've never known before. For Eliot specifically, cooking being an art isn't just something he likes. It's something that brings him hope.

Eliot doesn't believe in redemption. But he believes in actions. And what Toby did, by teaching him to cook, was to teach him that his actions can be good. That he can create, not just destroy. That all is not lost - not 'for' him necessarily, so much as 'in' him. There is a deep empty place inside himself that he can enter so so easily. The difficulty is crawling back out again. Cooking was his rope out of there. He still finds it difficult to express his emotions very often, particularly verbally, but when he makes someone a meal he puts a part of himself into it. And yet doing so doesn't take anything from him, it just adds more.

This is all very vague and figurative and may make no sense, but the takeaway I want to have is that Eliot is opening up to Parker on a very deep level here. He feels like he recognizes what she's talking about, and it was a very bad place for him. (Again, I don't think she is quite that badly off at this point in canon, but I digress.) And while making food allows him to feel that he is demonstrating his love for someone, that he is sharing a part of himself with them, he recognizes that she isn't receiving that. What she's getting, is just a plate of food. Tasty food maybe, but nothing more than that. And so Eliot verbalizes everything to her in a way he rarely does.

And then he keeps trying. This scene obviously doesn't end up making her feel something, and we don't get to see the immediate aftermath of that, but we can glean a little about how they feel based on their reactions. And Eliot is deeply determined to help Parker feel something from his food. He insists that she play the food critic; even speaks directly to her and reminds her to consider what they talked about.

In the restaurant, we start out with Parker dutifully playing her role but feeling nothing much beyond just the role. Eliot checks in with Parker, she acknowledges that the food is good but doesn't make her feel anything, and he makes improvements based on her feedback. Then something abruptly changes.

Parker: "I can taste garlic, and mushrooms... and something else that makes me feel different."

Hardison: "Wait, was that for me, cause I-I don't get it."

Parker: "No, it's the food. I get it." [smiles] "I feel something."

Parker: "Mmm! These black noodles are amazing!

Eliot: "Parker, it's tagliolini nero con gamberi."

Parker: "Mmm." [eats a huge forkful] "Mmm. Mmmm. These are really good."

Parker

What just happened here? Last we saw from Parker, she'd failed to feel something from the meal Eliot made especially for her in the brewpub, and she was clearly disheartened. She felt it as a failure, very much in the sense of a disappointment. She didn't want to try again, didn't think it would work, and tried to protest when Eliot said she would be the food critic. Even once she got to the restaurant, nothing was happening for her.

The difference wasn't in the flavor of the food. The moment Parker started to feel something was right after she said she felt nothing and Eliot, instead of being disappointed or giving up, took it as a challenge. He changed his recipe, he improved it specifically to better reach out to her. He kept trying.

And yeah, maybe the bone broth helped it taste better. But that wasn't the point, not really. The point is that Parker had gotten herself stuck in a hole, trapped herself in this cycle of not understanding how things make you feel and then believing that she just couldn't. She wanted something of her own and she didn't have it and she didn't immediately get anyone else's thing either, and that was it. She just wasn't capable. She was other. This is an old old fear of Parkers, dating back to Archie or even before. Something in her just isn't capable of being like other people. She wasn't worthy of being in Archie's real family, and she's not able to feel passion for anything outside of stealing. (Setting aside the fact that she loves her team, that all she needed was the right family. That you don't have to be a creator to feel passion, and you don't need to be passionate about any particular thing in order to feel deeply and find beauty in the world.) Parker has empathized deeply with people, has felt so intensely before and is constantly trying to learn more and new ways to be. But because she is noticing her teams' passions now, she has this ideal that she wants to reach, and none of that is good enough for her. She doesn't even know exactly what her ideal involves, but she can't get to it.

But when Eliot doesn't give up, that gets to her. If he views his food as sharing himself with others, Parker finally gets what he's been trying to give all along. It's all about him trying again and again, changing his approach to match her better. That's what she feels, that's what she enjoys.

And once she starts, the floodgates open. She loves the black noodles. She is so happy, she is relieved. There was this huge resistance that she couldn't get past before, but Eliot persisting helped her to break past that and now that she is out of her head about it she can enjoy the food in a way she never has before. Because she feels his love for her in it.

Eliot

Eliot is trying so hard to connect to Parker. It's not really different from what I said in the last Eliot section, and basically the same as what I just said in that Parker section, but I want to emphasize a little more just how much this is about love on his end.

Eliot loves Parker. He loves her, and he wants so much to help her. It doesn't honestly matter that he does this with food, except for the fact that food is what matters so deeply to Eliot himself. He can't reach out to her in the same way through any other medium. And we don't get to see his reaction to Parker's moment of realization. But I think it would be such a deep sense of joy. This is as fulfilling for Eliot as it is for Parker. It's exactly what Eliot has been hoping for this whole episode, to teach someone else to see food in the same way he does. It doesn't matter if it only lasts for a moment or a single meal. That's enough. He has been the support Parker needed through this time of self-doubt. And it is all the more meaningful to him because this isn't just a random student, this is Parker.

He told her he loves her through his food, again and again, and she eventually felt it. She understood. That must mean so much to him.

I wanna end with one more brief note on Parker. Does she get her own "thing" this episode? No. No she does not, and this scene shows us that. Parker is not suddenly interested in food or cooking. The importance of that meal was purely derived from Eliot on the other end of it, focused on her and trying his best to reach out to her.

And I don't think this is something only Eliot could have done for her either, not really. The difference between him and the others this episode is mostly in persistence. However, it's also about her mentality. Hardison has built/done things for Parker before and she felt them just as deeply - but the context was different. She wasn't looking for a sense of beauty or art in the world at large then, and so even though she felt the love in the gift just as much, it didn't make her feel like she could find that kind of emotion in other things. She just wasn't looking for it. Also, it was made easier for Eliot to reach out because there's that connection Parker has with him, that understanding that they are on the same level somehow. She doesn't feel that with Hardison - and she loves him all the more for him being different from her, but he also I think can intimidate her with how good and open he is, with how much he can feel in so many different directions. It's part of why she got so worried about herself not being able to do so this episode.

Like, the team has scolded Nate for not having a life or interests of his own outside the job not too terribly long ago! And Parker has had her own joys before! But she isn't seeing that this episode, too caught up in this fear about not having her own 'thing', not feeling anything that way. So while anyone could have helped her through this, it was easiest for her to let Eliot do so + for him to understand what she needed from him. (Hardison in particular was rudely robbed the opportunity, but they all love and support her and could have reached her. Not to detract from Eliot doing so, but also I don't wanna sound like no other method of reaching out would've worked.)

But as soon as she feels something once with Eliot's help, that relaxes those fears. And then Parker is free to look in other places. She remembers Nate's comment about art, and maybe even tells him what she plans based on him knowing where she is at the end of the episode. And then she goes to visit this statue. In her own way which means breaking in, but without any goal of taking it. She just goes to look at the art. And she feels something again.

Parker doesn't gain some big passion at the end of this episode. She doesn't need to. She never did. She just learns how to let herself relax from that restrictive frame of mind. To simply be in the moment and enjoy things for the sake of what they are. To feel - not really in any way she was incapable of before, but intentionally now. It's a quiet victory, in the end. It doesn't mean she's going to get a new hobby or change her lifestyle at all really. But she's let go of a fear and is now intentionally seeking out new connections with the world beyond her once-limited parameters.

#leverage #leverage meta #parker #eliot spencer #my meta #ugggggh why did this get so long?! i just wanted to jot down a few thoughts!#hopefully it's coherent #i'm like half-asleep at this point which probably accounts for the length since i ramble on when i'm tired. and also hopefully for anything #that doesn't make sense

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solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

Text

SYCS - 1 Year Anniversary

Chapter title: Set In Stone

Word count: about 4000 words

Author’s Note: On July 26, 2020, I posted the first chapter of Scars You Can’t See. One year later, I’ve written five stories of varying lengths and am currently working on a sixth (wow)! My writing’s come a long way since then, and a lot of my improvement is thanks to everyone who encourages me to continue said writing, whether it’s through likes, reblogs, or comments. Thank you all so much for your support so far! :)

This is a rewrite of the very first chapter of SYCS, since the original could use a little fixing. Some important notes: I’ve edited a few parts of the story to be more in character, Chapter 2 starts in a different place after this updated version, and I’ve also fixed up chapter 13 because apparently I forgot to finish the motif I started?? Somehow??? At least I remembered eventually...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the (revised) story!

Before, Shadow had always been able to just ignore what it meant to work for G.U.N.

He’d managed somehow to convince himself to brush aside the fact that the soldiers he worked with (had been coerced into working with) wore the same uniforms as those who killed Maria, his dear sister and first friend. To push away any idea that he couldn’t deal with serving the same organization that had once wanted him dead. (It was the only way to stay with his friends, of course he could deal.)

The same thing went for using guns during the Black Arms invasion- even though he’d had amnesia, he remembered enough that he’d needed to rely on adrenaline near constantly just to make it through those times. Despite this, he had still taken the better part of a month to recover afterwards.

His memories of that day were particularly fresh for a while.

Once the invasion had been successfully repelled, G.U.N. had hired him to work for them very rapidly, as a matter of fact. During the process, some of the people along the way strongly suggested that if the organization wasn’t able to keep an eye on him, then…well, then they’d be very displeased.

Shadow knew all too well that you did not want G.U.N. displeased with you.

The hybrid felt nothing but exhausted as these thoughts whirled through his head for the hundredth time. They’d only become a major problem recently, ever since the military organization had begun to require him to resume using guns on his missions. Every single time he touched one, the cold steel left his palms slick inside his gloves and made his head swim with flashes of memories too often repressed. Still, he had to use them- he’d be taken off missions entirely if he refused, and Shadow would never leave Rouge and Omega in the lurch like that.

However, his mental health had been growing ever worse these past few weeks as a result. He thought (hoped) he’d done a good job of hiding it from Rouge and Omega, but Shadow had been sparring with Sonic noticeably less. The hybrid had struggled with the idea of inflicting more violence on others in his spare time, and the hero had asked him about it several times, trying to figure out the reason for his sudden change in behavior.

Shadow shook his head, pushing his doubts and worries away just as he always had before. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted by his thoughts- they might spill over into missions if he wasn’t careful. Forcing himself to focus on his schedule for the day and nothing else, he walked out of his room to take on whatever might come his way.

…

He was skating through the halls of an old, decrepit building (currently being used as a hideout by Eggman) on a mission. A robot stepped into his path.

Shadow hadn’t used his weapon yet on this assignment. He remembered the thinly veiled threat after his first refusal- we may have to remove you from missions if you cannot handle this responsibility- and felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

He shut his eyes, whipped out the firearm, and pulled the trigger. Flinching at the sound out of instinct, he refused to open his eyes until the gun was away, when he didn’t have to see it anymore. The robot lay on the ground, a smoking hole in its center. He tried to ignore the lingering sensation of the G.U.N. logo embossed on the handgrip in his palm.

Shadow felt the floor tilt for a moment under him before he regained his bearings.

He refused to look at the machine as he rushed by.

…

The exhausted hedgehog curled up in bed at night, unable to keep himself from hearing gunshots over and over and over. He fought against the memories of that day, refused to let them spill over into his thoughts.

Yet despite his best efforts, he knew he’d dream of it again tonight. He knew that he’d wake up screaming with her name in his mouth and the sight of blood still burned into his eyes. It had happened every night since he’d received the weapon.

Shadow swallowed down his fearful apprehension over what would come next. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to close his eyes, even though he wished to do the exact opposite. Dreams were not real. He could not let them hold power over him.

But still, he shivered as he tried to fall asleep.

…

He and Omega were standing in the center of a courtyard, broken badnik scrap lying all around them. This mission was supposed to be easy, just a simple in-and-out. Take out the bots, grab the intel, and go.

Rouge had asked them to cover for her as she searched for information in the abandoned computers alone. Shadow hadn’t liked the idea of leaving her alone but agreed grudgingly anyway.

He looked down at the firearm he held in his hands and tried his hardest not to cringe.

Flashes of memories threatened to surface again, of escape pods and gunshots and too much blood-

“Shadow.”

He jumped, not expecting Omega’s loud voice so suddenly.

“Yes, what is it?”

“You have been distracted for nearly ten minutes. Are you unwell?”

Shadow sighed, projecting a relaxed attitude. “Everything is fine. I was simply thinking.”

“About what?” Omega asked curiously.

“Nothing much.”

Silence descended upon the two again for a minute.

“Shadow.” the E-series robot repeated.

“What.” he snapped, sounding more irritated than he’d intended.

“Tell me what you were thinking about. You looked distressed.”

“I’m fine, alright?” Shadow insisted. “Just- forget it, Omega.”

Omega stepped closer. “Past experience has informed me that you tend to hide important thoughts from others. Therefore, I will assume that this is essential knowledge until proven otherwise.”

“It’s not important.”

The robot placed his hand on Shadow’s shoulder. The latter wouldn’t admit it, but the weight was comforting, in a way.

“This is not adequate proof. Do you not trust me, Shadow?”

He sighed. “I do trust you, Omega. You know that.”

“Then talk.” Omega’s processors whirred for a moment, before adding, “Please.”

The hybrid’s shoulders slumped- he knew his friend wouldn’t stop until he told the truth. “I was thinking, how weird is it, that I work for the same organization that ki-...caused my sister’s-” He paused on the word, fighting not to trip over his sentences. “-death and...attempted to cause mine. Among other things. And how now...I must use weapons like the ones that took her from me...to harm others.” He sighed, nearly worn out just from the effort of discussing that event’s existence.

Omega jerked away from him, startling Shadow. “G.U.N. is the organization that killed your sister?” he asked, sounding- if it were possible- shocked.

“And the one that locked me away in cryostasis for 50 years, yes.” Shadow said, feigning calm.

Omega made a staticky noise that sounded like a sharp exhale. “Shadow. Why did nobody tell me this before? And why in the name of Chaos do you still work here?”

Shadow looked away, hiding the bitterness in his expression. “Multiple reasons. One, the organization has somewhat cleaned up its act, as far as I can tell. Two, it wants to keep me under surveillance, since I am still ‘potentially dangerous’ to them...and consequences would be severe if I did not obey.”

He tapped his heel on the ground. “Also, it was one of the main avenues for us to become heroes. Unlike Sonic and his friends, we don’t have the luxury of fighting someone who wants us to know where they are. And you know we didn’t exactly have the best record with law enforcement beforehand.”

“Still.” Omega replied. “I am highly opposed to the concept of fighting in the name of such an organization. Have they at least apologized to you? Or admitted their wrongdoing?”

Shadow frowned, thinking. “No, actually, they never did.”

Why did he have to bring this up? There’s no point in talking about what’s past. Let’s just get over it and move on.

Omega looked down, his eyes dimming slightly. “Processing.”

He was still processing by the time Rouge arrived, and remained mostly silent for their exit, post-mission briefing and the entire ride home.

Once the three had gotten inside, Rouge faced the E-series robot. “Alright, what’s up with you? You’re never quiet, but you’ve barely said a word since I got back.”

“I am considering an important decision.” Omega said.

“Oh? And what might that be?” she asked, folding her arms.

“My potential resignation from the government organization known as G.U.N..”

“Wait, what?” Rouge gasped.

Shadow shouted out from the other room simultaneously. “Omega, what are you thinking?!”

“Current logic process is as follows: G.U.N. hurt one of the few decent people on this planet and my friend fifty years ago by murdering Maria Robotnik and many others aboard the ARK, as well as imprisoning him for said fifty years against his will. It has not apologized or shown remorse for those actions. Therefore, this organization clearly has no respect for Shadow, and therefore I refuse to aid them one moment longer.”

Shadow appeared at the robot’s side, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Omega, but you don’t need to do that for me. I’m alright with this.”

(He was lying, of course.)

“Hold on a minute here, Omega’s got a point.” Rouge said pensively. “I started working here so I wouldn’t go to jail for stealing, but I’ve served my ‘sentence’ ages ago. Honestly, I kind of hate it there anyway? Like, nobody even respects us and it’s got way too much bureaucracy and too many outdated ideas. It’d be much better if it was just the three of us doing our own thing away from them, wouldn’t it?”

“Besides, hon, you’ve got to start standing up against those guys. I know you were going through a major existential crisis a while back when this all started, and that was the main thing you had to deal with. But now that you’ve started to figure everything out, it’s time to stop letting people treat you this way! We don’t have to give G.U.N. anything. They never helped you at all.”

“Agreed.” Omega said. “This organization does not deserve you- or any of us. They have wronged you, and though forgiveness is supposedly a ‘virtue’, it is likely so only when it is deserved.”

Shadow stared at the two of them. “That was...actually kind of philosophical for a minute. And convincing.” He huffed, frustrated, his hands curling into fists. “I just…how would I even go about dealing with my grievances with an entire military organization? I would need proof...and I don’t want to damage my standing with the government. G.U.N. can easily claim that I have gone rogue.”

He swallowed, trying to ignore the various insecurities at the corners of his mind. “I’m just...should I really be digging all of this up again? I’ve finally started to get over it…”

“Okay, so first of all, hon, you’d better not let G.U.N. walk all over you just because they can make up fake blackmail.” the bat insisted. “And second, you’re clearly not over it. Shadow...I can hear you when you wake up from your nightmares, you know. You deserve some kind of closure to help you, and if G.U.N. won’t give it to you, then you have to take it.

“Also, here’s another thing- how much worse would you feel if G.U.N. hurt someone else, and we had never said anything to warn anyone?”

Shadow stiffened, feeling ill again. The very idea was abhorrent. That another person’s Maria could be lost due to his silence...“That...that would be unimaginable….” he breathed.

“Exactly.” Rouge replied. “So, consider it.”

Shadow frowned. “I...I’ll keep it in mind. But we should at least see if they’ll do something first before we try to attack them. We might be able to convince them to make amends, after all. I mean, if we fight, we’ll be completely out of a job, and I don’t know if the funds from Club Rouge will be enough to keep us afloat- if we succeed. It’s too risky, at least for now.”

“If that’s what you want to do, then we can definitely stick with that to start.” the bat said. “I don’t know if I could’ve taken any of their apologies if it were me, but it’s not my life, it’s yours. So I’ll be right with you no matter what you decide to do, okay?”

“As will I.” Omega added, placing a hand on Shadow’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Rouge. Thanks, Omega.” the hybrid said, finally allowing relief to show on his face as he looked at his friends.

He couldn’t help but feel that with them by his side, everything would be alright.

…

They talked through most of the night about how to bring it up, what they would say, and even where they would sit to keep Shadow feeling as safe as he could. The hybrid had final veto power over anything the other two suggested, and he tried to keep the wording of the speech he’d give as controlled and polite as possible.

However, he tried not to bring up the “maybe G.U.N. still thinks I’m a weapon to be stored and used, not a person” topic during his proposal. Those insecurities could wait for another day.

They fell asleep late at night, all three in the same room- Shadow made a blanket nest on the floor, Omega plugged himself into the wall, and Rouge was on her bed.

Pleasantly enough, Shadow didn’t have any nightmares that night.

…

“You want us to do what?”

The head of the public relations department stood behind his desk, cutting a slightly dominating figure in front of the team in his room. Omega could easily detect an increased heart rate in Shadow. He was not betraying any nervousness externally, however, and the robot was impressed by his friend’s willpower.

The PR head sat down, and he gestured for Team Dark to do the same. However, since there were only two chairs in the room (as they had known), Omega remained standing. Among other things, it would allow him to more easily defend his friends should the talk go awry.

“I’m afraid we just can’t do that kind of thing...Shadow.” He said the last word like it was distasteful, like it didn’t belong in his mouth. (Or, perhaps, like he wanted to add a “Project” or “Experiment” to the front of it, but didn’t for fear of a missile to the face delivered by Omega.)

“Why not?” The hybrid asked. “Sir,” he forced himself to add politely. “Don’t you agree that it was wrong? That G.U.N.’s soldiers shouldn’t have done...what they did?”

“I am incredibly saddened that Miss Robotnik’s death occurred in the search for you, and that the head of G.U.N. at the time considered you unworthy of any basic living rights.” the PR leader said, sounding more than anything like he was reading a script off a teleprompter. “However, I am not going to make a public statement digging up something that happened fifty years ago.”

Rouge leaned forward in her chair furiously. “So you’re just going to pretend it never happened? What about the trauma Shadow experienced? What about the fact that this kind of thing could happen again?”

The leader looked at her coldly. “I can assure you that this is an isolated incident, and that such an occurrence has not happened before or since.”

“But you can't just-! Can’t we speak with the commander?” Rouge gasped, outraged.

“I can, and I will. And you know very well that the commander is taking a well-deserved vacation, and we are not to disturb him for any reason except an emergency. Now then. Did you have anything else you needed?” he said smugly.

Omega was so, so close to just arming the missile launcher anyway.

Shadow looked up at him carefully, clearly going over the words in his head. “Sir. May I respectfully ask why G.U.N. considered it necessary to arm me? I can apply lethal force if necessary in other manners.”

The PR head frowned. “Close quarters are not necessarily a safe space for you, Shadow. We need you alive, and if that means you’re farther back, then so be it.”

“But- me? Destroying with impunity? In such a cold, distant manner? That’s not what G.U.N. wants to see from me, I thought. And with my experiences, I really don’t think-”

The human folded his arms. “Don’t worry about thinking, just worry about completing your missions on time. And what’s past is past, right? Now then, I expect no more complaints from you three. This meeting is concluded.”

Shadow stood up stiffly. “Yes, sir.”

Rouge froze. “Wait, Shadow, you’re not just going to-”

“We’re leaving, Rouge. Now.” Shadow said firmly, but the two other members of Team Dark could hear the unsteadiness in his voice. Omega remained silent, but internally was playing a very nice simulation in which he repeatedly punched the head of the PR department.

Once they had exited the office and walked through the facility for a while, Shadow leaned heavily against a wall. “He’s not sorry at all.” he muttered. The robot didn’t need his sensors to tell that he was experiencing far too many negative feelings at once. It wasn’t healthy for organics to deal with all that all the time…

“Agreed.” Omega said. “I would not be surprised in the least if he was lying throughout all of it.”

Rouge sighed, before pulling an unresisting Shadow into a hug. “Honey, I’m...” She paused for a second. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You shouldn’t have to cope with people like that, ever.”

Shadow closed his eyes quietly and stood like that for a long time. Eventually, though, he spoke up. “.....I know what we have to do. I...I know we need to fight, like you said last night. I don’t feel ready, but just…it has to happen.”

Omega looked down at them both. “You two go out to the car. I will go and get your sister’s files myself while you take a few minutes, Shadow. I am bulletproof and the most likely to make it out unscathed, and if I need help I can call.”

Rouge rolled her shoulders briefly, her wings flexing. “Alright. I’ll be ready to get out of here the second you get in. Sound good?”

“Alright.” Omega agreed. “Let’s go.”

The robot marched down the halls, on a mission. He stopped first to gather everything from their office- or at least all of their personal items. They might need them later, after all. He placed them into his empty chest compartment (he hadn’t refilled on weaponry in a while) and moved on.

The lower levels of the G.U.N. facility were darker and less well-maintained. This was most likely on purpose, to keep people from wanting to go down there. Omega, however, did not fear the dark. He had a flashlight, and a hulking five-foot robot was usually enough to scare most creatures.

Thankfully, the guards stationed throughout these levels knew him, and simply stepped aside to let Omega pass. Quite a few of them were honestly nervous down there themselves, and barely even noticed him.

He noticed a small door marked ‘Records Room- Classified’ and knew he was in the right place. The door did not give him access, but that was alright. Rouge had hacked the system a while back and given herself the highest clearance possible...and now Omega had her spare card.

Once he was inside, he scanned the cabinets methodically until he found the file marked ‘Maria Robotnik’. Inside were papers detailing her death and her life. Everything one could have wanted to know about her was inside.

The red stamp on the front reading ‘Terminated’ was pretty ominous, and Omega briefly wondered if he would be able to remove it. He considered the possibility that Shadow would not be quite so pained upon seeing it if the stamp were gone.

It was unlikely, and so he moved on.

Omega exited the room, hoping that the guards in the security monitor room were slacking off. They often were, so he calculated at least a 70% chance of exiting the facility without incident. He placed the file inside his compartment and continued on.

Being a robot meant that he could not act nervous. Therefore, nobody questioned him as he walked through the halls and outside, where he saw Rouge talking to Shadow inside their black-and-red car.

The hybrid appeared to be rather panicked about the whole plan, so as Omega slid into the backseat, he placed his hand on his friend’s head for a brief moment. “Everything is going to be alright, Shadow. I promise you that.”

Shadow sighed and slumped back against the seat. “Let’s get out of here before someone notices what we did.”

Rouge pulled out of the parking lot with a screech of the tires and didn’t let the speedometer dip below fifty until they got home.

“Right.” she said, once they were all inside. “We’ll probably have G.U.N. beating down our door by tomorrow morning, so let’s make sure they don’t catch us still here by then. Omega, refill your weapons and pack us some clothes and stuff. Shadow, you just try and chill. I’m going to look over this file.”

As Rouge flipped through the pages, Shadow decided that he needed to see these for himself and walked over to stand behind her. Before long, though, he recoiled in shock upon seeing that when G.U.N. discussed Maria’s death, they justified it. Made it seem like Shadow was the villain. A monster. A weapon.

“Shadow?” the bat asked.

“...yes?”

“You know we can’t use this by itself, right? We need more proof. Like, video proof.” she said, sounding resigned.

“I know.” he said quietly, disappointed that so little had changed despite the fact that half a century and some new management had taken place.

Omega cursed out G.U.N. from the other room in response and came over to them, his eyes in their ‘angry’ shape. “We need to stop them now. This revolting organization does not deserve to spend another minute active anywhere on the planet.”

“Let’s get them, then.” Rouge hissed, clearly furious as well.

Shadow felt terribly apprehensive, but despite that, he agreed as well. “Then they won’t be able to hurt anyone else in the future.” he said, sounding more determined than he had in a while.

“You ready, guys?” the bat asked, holding out her hand in the midst of their little group.

Omega allowed his giant metal hand to hover over hers. “Always.”

Rouge looked at the hybrid. “You sure you’re up for this, hon?”

“Not entirely…” Shadow admitted, but took a deep breath and held out his hand too, allowing Rouge to guide his hand to Omega’s, just like she had so long ago. “...but I need to do it, and so I will.”

“Then we’ll expose them, Shadow.” she said confidently. “And we’ve totally got this, because we’re doing it together.”

And as they all clasped hands for a moment, before breaking off to head to the garage, Shadow felt like they really had a chance to succeed.

#scars you can't see #sol's fanfiction #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #i've actually had this saved for a while! i thought the anniversary would be a good time to post it :)#i went back and reread chapter 1 and was like '.......i could write this so much better now'#so here we are!#i especially didn't like how omega forced shadow's hand- i much prefer this one where it's a team agreement #shadow's still a little hesitant because of how it turned out the last time he went up against g.u.n.#but he knows he needs to do this for himself (and for others too)#i did still try and keep the general plot structure the same though- just improved it (hopefully)#either way i'm looking forward to another year of writing! it's been really cool so far :D #thanks as always for reading

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Being A Star (4)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Count: 2071

Warnings: Language as Steve would say

Author’s Note: Here’s the next chapter! Let me know what you think or if you want to be added to the tag for future chapters!

Becoming A Stark || Chapter One Being A Stark|| Masterlist

Life finally feels normal again. At least as much as it can for missing five years in the middle of your life, having a new sister, and living in a new house. But your dad is home which is the biggest thing. Dr. Cho is talking about having to send him to a specialist to deal with the after effects on his arm, but for now she’s let him come home with the sling holding the dead weight of his arm. The marks freak Morgan out so Tony has been wearing a lot of flannels over his arm so she doesn’t have to see it. You’re not supposed to know, but you overheard your parents talking about how Dr. Cho thinks most of your dad’s arm will probably need to be cut off. She hadn’t done it in hopes of saving it, but her messages about your dad’s case with the specialist said there is little hope that the arm can be saved. Especially since it’s causing your dad pain, which you didn’t know. You try to imagine your dad without his arm, but it just doesn’t seem right.

A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be asleep kiddo? You’ve got the second first day of ninth grade tomorrow?”

“In which I will be the only one starting the year since everyone else started last week.” You say with a roll of your eyes as Tony walks over to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Even so, you’re not one to stay up late on a school night unless you have homework and seeing as I know you already finished it…” He trails off. “Wanna talk about it?” You slide towards the left side of your bed to make room and Tony moves to sit next to you. His good arm wraps around your shoulder and you lean into the smell of him, cinnamon from his cologne and mint from his aftershave. The only scent missing was the smell of him being in the lab, but until he was cleared to work on things like his cars and other science projects, he was restricted from going into the garage.

“I, uh, heard you and Mom talking the other night.” You say softly. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were going back to your room after using the bathroom and had heard them from the top of the stairs.

“Heard us? Talking about?” Tony asks, not following what you’re talking about.

“Your arm. How they might cut it off.”

“Ah.”

“How you’re in pain.” You mutter the words.

“I wasn’t keeping that from you, if you’re up late feeling bad about overhearing it.” You look up at him. “Your mom and I were going to talk to you about it after meeting with the specialist. We didn’t want you to be worrying if you didn’t need to be.”

“I’m not up because I felt bad.” Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you pull at some of the skin there. “I don’t like that you’re in pain.”

“I feel the same way when you hurt kiddo. But that’s what this appointment is about. They think the stones did something to the tissue and nerves. They think it’s basically corrosive. So by taking the arm away, it would hopefully stop the pain.” Your eyebrows fall together as you think about this.

“But how would that affect everything else?”

“Well, I will have to use a prosthetic. And I’ll have to relearn how to do some stuff. But if it gets rid of the pain it will be worth it. Maybe Bucky will teach me all about having a detachable arm.”

“That guy who was bad but now isn’t, that’s a friend of Steve’s?” You ask, having heard the name but never having met the guy.

“That’s the one. He was brainwashed for a little bit into being a bad guy. But he’s all better now. I wouldn’t risk myself being around him if he wasn’t. And he did help us fight Thanos.” He smiles at you. “I think that makes him a good guy.”

“Fuck Thanos.” You mutter.

“Summed up my feelings entirely.” Tony says as his hand rubs your shoulder slightly.

“How do you just jump back into life after being gone for five years?” You ask the other question that has been simmering in your mind for the past few days. “Like my life just stopped? How do I get that back?”

“You seem to be doing a good job at getting it back so far. Hanging out with Mom and Morgan and your favorite old man.” He teases.

“Dad, I’m serious.” You lean into him as you let the words leave your lips. “The past couple weeks have… they felt like they are a part of my new life. But by going back to school, I’m having to be old me all over again? How do I just slip back into that?”

“New life?”

“My old life didn’t include a little sister or waiting for my dad to come home from being injured. It was a whole different thing. I’m in a new house, I haven’t had to do anything that seems like things I would have done before I just poofed.” You didn’t want to admit it, but you had been avoiding Peter partially for that reason. Peter was pre Blip. Morgan was post Blip. How do you make them go together?

“What things are you nervous about having to deal with?”

“I…. I’m scared it will all go away again.” You admit. Every day when you wake up, you feel like crying that you’re still there.

“Being scared is a normal reaction. We all get scared sometimes.”

“You’re Iron Man. You’re saying you get scared? You literally save the world.”

“I lost you. I lost half the universe. I wake up at night and think that you’re still gone. I’m scared I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream. There’s stuff from before the Blip that still causes me to have panic attacks. I get scared easily kiddo. I’m far from perfect at dealing with things.”

“And how do you deal with all of it?”

“I lean on Pepper. I hug you and Morgan as close as humanly possible. I tried therapy once, but should find a different doctor. I tinker. I focus on the things I can control.”

“So I should just keep going even if I’m scared?” Tony nods slowly.

“Is this fear why I haven’t seen a certain Spider-boy around?” You bite the inside of your cheek and don’t answer. “I may not like the idea of you dating people for selfish reasons, but I know he makes you happy. So maybe lean on him instead of pushing him away? Just a suggestion.”

“I…” You trail off, not knowing if you should voice the other thought going through your mind.

“You…?”

“Have you ever thought about how the world would look without you in it?”

“Sure, in a dark moment. Why do you ask?” Tony’s concerned but wants to see where you’re going with this.

“I left, and you guys just moved on. So what’s the point of slipping back into what I did pre Blip if everyone was fine without me?” You ask, not looking at your dad. You find you can’t meet his eyes after saying it.

“We continued living. But we didn’t move on.” Tony wishes he had two working arms so he could pull you into a tight hug and not let go.

“You had a whole other kid while I was gone. How is that not moving on?”

“Morgan was on her way before you Blipped.” You look up at your dad with all the confusion you’re feeling painted across your features. “If the Blip had happened seven weeks later, you would have Blipped knowing that you had a sibling on the way. The last thing we wanted to do after losing you, was try to replace you. And Morgan could never replace you.” He pulls you in closer with his good arm. “I came back from being lost in space with Nebula, thinking I was going to have to tell you I lost your boyfriend. Then I took my first step off the ship and my eyes were searching for you and Pep- hoping I didn’t lose my family. But the moment I saw Pepper’s eyes, I knew it. She didn’t even have to say it. And when I knew you were gone, my whole world fell apart. It felt like my heart had been ripped out. I was sure my lungs were being crushed. I couldn’t breathe. I had a panic attack in front of the remaining Avengers because we lost, but more importantly I lost you, my kid. It took a week before I could even talk to anyone besides Pep. Nearly a month before I could manage to talk about anything Avenger related. It hurt too much. I broke the one promise I swore I wouldn’t. I swore I would keep you safe and I hadn’t done that. I was across the galaxy as you faded into dust. So I promise you Y/N, we never moved on. We just did what we could to make losing you not hurt so much. We were far from fine without you.”

“I didn’t know.” You whisper, not knowing how much pain your dad had gone through. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You have nothing to be sorry for. If anyone should apologize, it should be me for not stopping the Blip from happening.”

“That’s not your fault though. You may be an Avenger, but the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders.” You pause before saying. “If I’m not allowed to apologize, then neither are you.”

“You’re making demands now?”

“Mmmhmm. You perfected time travel to bring me back. And you brought my boyfriend back, willingly nonetheless. So I say there’s nothing to apologize for. No apologizing.”

“Ok, no apologizing.” Tony leans against your head. Tony decides to bring up a more positive subject. “Morgan loves that you tell her actual bedtime stories.”

“Actual bedtime stories? What have you been telling her?”

“Once upon a time there was a Morguna who went to bed, the end.”

“That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard. No wonder she likes my stories better.” You shrug. “They’re not that special. Just stories I would have made up when I was her age.”

“Vivid imagination?” You nod.

“Still have one. It’s why I love reading. Imagining far off places and new things to see. It’s amazing.” You lean into your dad’s shoulder as you explain.

“Ever thought about writing your own?”

“Story?”

“Book.”

“I’ve… contemplated it before. But never actually given it a try. What if I have nothing to say?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Wow, it’s cuddle time and I wasn’t invited?” Pepper stands barefoot in your doorway.

“There’s still room.” You pat the bed on the other side of you. Pepper smiles and comes to sit down next to you.

“What are we contemplating instead of sleeping?”

“Dad’s trying to convince me I should try to write a book.”

“You could write a book that is solely Morgan’s bedtime stories and I know you would have at least one reader.” Pepper agrees.

“That’s just made up… shit.” You shrug off your parents’ suggestions. “It’s not a real story.”

“It’s a real story to Morgan. The person who decides the story is worth it is the person who wants to read it. But if you want to do something completely different, that’s ok too. You have plenty of time to figure out what to do in life.” Pepper says. “But, it is getting late and you do have to get up early to drive into the city.”

“You were the ones that chose to move out of NYC proper. So really it’s your fault.” You joke.

“True, but either way, you need to get some sleep so you don’t fall asleep in class.” Tony kisses your cheek. Pepper stands up, but then leans over to give you one more hug and a kiss. “Get some sleep kiddo. Tomorrow is going to be fine.”

“Whatever you say Dad.” Tony pulls your quilt around you and tucks it in tight. “Love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart.”

“Love you kiddo.”

...A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan @teenwishes08 @iamthescarlettwitch @skyfallstilinski @cutie1365 @a-mnd @youarethereasonimsmiling @thefemalestorywriter @krazykendraisnotinsane @cathy8taffy @letssee2468 @babyreads @riyanna @theatregeek @bubblebunbun @curls-freckles-books

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

strike wont let me tag

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fan fiction #tony stark #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark can't be dead if you just don't let yourself believe it #tony stark is a good dad #pepper potts #pepper potts is the worlds best mom #morgan stark #peter parker imagine #imanativeofswlondondahling #being a stark #becoming a stark

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lannister-slings-and-arrows · 4 years

Text

Sleep Therapy

A Frederick Chilton x Reader fanfic written in collaboration with the lovely and talented @pascalispretty . I can’t believe that we have been writing smut with each other since before we went under quarantine and this is the first time we’ve actually gotten our acts together and published it. I refuse to apologize for this, y’all were warned lol. I now dedicate this to my favorite prickly, grumpy, lonely, little asshole man, Frederick (never Freddy) Chilton.

Part One of the series A Sign That Someone Loves Me Part Two: Laugh With Me a Little

Warnings: sex, somnophelia, drug use, inappropriate use of prescription drugs, over stimulation, dubious consent, references to voyeurism, fingering, oral (female receiving), Fred being Fred

Rating: yeah, this is definitely M folks Word Count: 6111 sorry not sorry lol Summary: It’s been a long week for you and your fiancé and you’re exhausted. Yet Dr. Chilton has always been a firm advocate for the unorthodox, and a little sleep therapy might do you both a world of good.

The project that you had been working on all week was finally finished. No more early mornings, no more late nights, no more spending more time at the office with the coworkers you were at best acquaintances with than at home with your lovable asshole fiancé. Said lovable asshole fiancé who had also had a busy week at work.

You had woken up this morning with the intention of dragging him to your bedroom as soon as you got home and demanding he make up for an entire week without sex, but when you finally open the door and toss your keys on the table, the thought of doing anything more strenuous than crawling into bed was too much.

You find Fred waiting for you in the kitchen, and by the looks of his discarded suit coat and rolled up sleeves, he had beaten you home by at most a half an hour. He had already helped himself to dinner, judging by the empty takeout carton on the kitchen counter. He has the good grace to at least look guilty about having eaten without you.

“Hey, you. I didn’t know what time you’d be back, and I was ravenous.” He says, by way of an apology. You’re too tired to even tease him about it; you just want to get out of your work clothes, and fall into bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Fred. I’m too tired to eat anyway.” Your eyelids are heavy as you strip off your jacket and kick your shoes off, letting them fall next to the kitchen island. He frowns at you as you kiss the side of his head and give his hair a brief ruffle (it was soft and nearly product free at the end of the day and, even exhausted, you were incapable of not playing with it a little) before squeezing his shoulder and making your way out of the kitchen and back to the stairs.

“I’m going to head up to bed, today kicked my ass.” You call over your shoulder, not expecting, but not entirely unsurprised either to hear the legs of the kitchen stool he had been sitting on scrape across the floor as Fred stands to follow you up to your room. He grabs your fingers as the two of you make your way up the stairs and presses them gently.

You throw yourself onto the giant bed Fred insists is entirely necessary, not bothering to draw the curtains, thinking that you’ll just rest for a few minutes before getting undressed. Fred sits on the bed next to you and rests a hand on your leg. His hands are so broad and warm, and as tired as you are, you still sigh at the light touch.

“Come cuddle me.” You mumble, feeling the mattress shift beneath you as Fred settles himself comfortably beside you, resting his head on your tummy. It’s an entirely deliberate choice of position on his part; he enjoys you playing with his hair almost as much as you enjoy playing with it, and you don’t hesitate to slide your fingers back into his thick black hair.

He grumbles happily and rests more of his body against you, trapping one of your thighs between his legs as he lies half on top of you. As exhausted as you are, you don’t miss the little flick of his hips against your thigh; clearly, it’s been a long week for him as well.

You smile sleepily down at the top of his head, fingers digging into his hair, deliberately attempting to solicit another twitch of his cock against your leg. You were so tired but he was so warm and heavy and you loved the feeling of him hardening against you. And just because you aren’t in any kind of shape to be participating doesn’t mean that Fred can’t have some fun- he’s proven that exhaustion and even sleep aren’t really barriers to his getting the two of you off before.

More than once, you’ve woken up to his face between your thighs and halfway to a breathless climax. Even in the early days of your relationship his desire to watch you, in any sense, was evident; he liked cuddling you close and watching you fall asleep as much as he liked watching through the glass while you showered.

You feel the satisfied and happy noises Fred is making deep in his chest where he’s pressed against you when you tug a little on his hair and drag your nails gently across his scalp. The low, almost vibrating purr that emanates from the broad body on top of you is nearly as exciting as the hands he trails up your torso to settle on top of your breasts- rubbing across your nipples through your bra and your shirt. Fred digs his face, with it’s pointy sharp nose and it’s pouty lips perpetually drawn into a smirk, into your belly and hums quietly.

“I thought you were tired.” He murmurs against your stomach, nuzzling against your skin where the hem of your shirt has ridden up. As good as he feels- his comforting bulk on top of you, those exquisite hands on your breasts, the soft mouth against your abdomen- you know you’re far too tired to do anything. You’re so comfortable, sprawled out in the sunlight streaming through your open windows, that you feel like you’re going to drift away any second.

“I am. Why don’t I have a nap; you can always have some fun of your own.” You manage, having to fight back a yawn in order to finish your sentence. Fred hums contentedly as you carry on playing with his hair, the silky strands so soft under your fingers.

“As much as I would love to take you up on that,” Fred murmurs against your tummy, and gives your breasts a gentle squeeze, “I know that you’d never sleep through what I want to do to you. And you really do need to catch up on your sleep.” With a long sigh that feels warm on your exposed skin, he moves to roll off you. Tired though you might be, you don’t want Fred to stop. Instead, you clutch at his shoulders as inspiration strikes.

“Don’t you still have those horse tranquilizers locked in your office?”

“They aren’t ‘horse tranquilizers’.” He replies snippily, though his imperious tone is utterly belied by the image of his hair sticking up in a dozen different directions as he lifts his head up a little to look at you. You can’t resist a quiet snort at the sight of him, normally so compulsive about his grooming, and you shoot back, trying not to laugh at your “dignified” lover,

“Might as well be. I nearly slept for 14 hours the last time you gave me one of those.” He looks up at you, green eyes soft and surprisingly not offended, chin digging into your belly and shrugs. He rests his cheek on your bare skin again and you sigh, thinking that that’s the end of that as he nuzzles into your stomach, only to watch him sit bolt upright when he catches your meaning. Those sharp green eyes search your face intently.

“You want me to drug you, and then have sex with you while you’re unconscious?” He says incredulously, the image of outrage only spoiled by the fact that you can still feel his half-hard cock against your thigh.

You shrug one shoulder at him, limbs loose and fuzzy as you try to stay awake enough to soothe his now very ruffled feathers and convince him that this is a good idea.

“You like going down on me when I’m asleep. Why is this any different?” You ask. He stares at you, eyes narrowed, hands on your legs, silent for a moment.

“Normally the point of that is to eat you out until you wake up. Not deliberately put you to sleep to eat you out.” He mumbles, sounding more hesitant than rejecting the idea outright.

“True,” you grant, rubbing the backs of his hands. “But tell me you wouldn’t like getting to tell me all about the fun time we had when I wake up in the morning.” You see and feel his cock twitch at the idea of describing in detail eating you out- talking was one of life’s greatest pleasures for your loquacious asshole.

“It doesn’t have to be a whole pill. And I do want this Fred, I swear. But if you aren’t in the mood...” You trail off and watch him carefully. You can practically see him weighing the idea up in his mind, the thought of being able to touch you and fuck you while you slept, without fear of waking you, clearly interesting him.

“Well, Doctor Chilton?” You ask, settling yourself more comfortably against the pillows. “Am I going to have to sign a medical consent form to convince you?” He rarely looks so torn; worked up further by your use of his title, yet still bothered by something.

“What if I hurt you? You won’t be able to tell me if something’s wrong.” He says eventually, sounding so adorably concerned that if you were less tired, you would have sat up and pulled him in for a cuddle.

Instead you smile softly at him and tug on his hands to pull him down to you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he buries his face in your neck.

“Oh, Fred,” you soothe. “Darling you won’t hurt me, you never hurt me. You’re always so careful.” He shakes his head, nose rubbing against your neck.

“I might though, and you wouldn’t be able to tell me to stop.” You stroke his hair gently. Fighting sleep with him so warm and heavy and soft on top of you was getting difficult.

“Then be gentle. Like you always are. And think of it this way, you can check me out like you sometimes want to afterwards, and I won’t complain or laugh at you about it,” you try, smiling down at the top of his head.

Once, after a rougher session than Fred usually indulged in, he had asked you questions about pain or discomfort, while trying to check you for internal bruising. You allowed the questions but when he tried to shuffle down the bed to stick his fingers back in and look, you pinched his ear and shoved his hands away.

“I’m a trained medical professional you know,” he grumped at you, worried and offended now. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? How many years ago did you do a rotation in gynecology? I’m fine Fred, go to sleep.”

You know you have him then. He groans low against your skin, before leaning back so he can look you in the eyes.

"You promise me that you want this?" He asks sincerely, his fingers curling under your chin and encouraging you to look up at him. You nod sleepily, fighting off a yawn.

“I promise. As long as you tell me about it in the morning. I want all the details." You add, squeezing him as best as you can given how tired you are. Fred gives you a long look, and kisses you softly before rolling off of you and getting off the bed. He disappears, and you have to fight to stay awake without the distraction he provided, your eyelids so heavy you feel like you might well pass out before he gets back. It only takes him a few minutes to reappear, carrying a glass of water and a pill.

"I'm only giving you half." He says, putting it carefully into your hand as you sit up enough to be able to take it. It's bitter on your tongue, so you swallow it quickly, washing it down with the water before he can have any second thoughts. He watches you like a hawk as you lie back down.

"It'll take about an hour to kick in." You hardly hear him, falling back against the pillows and pulling the covers around you out of habit. Drowsily, you think that you should have undressed first, but you're too tired to pay it much mind. You feel Fred pressing delicate kisses to your face, one over each eyelid, one on the tip of your nose, and the barest brush of his lips to your own.

"Sweet dreams, my dear."

~X~

You wake up slowly the next morning, warm and cocooned in seemingly every blanket in your bedroom plus a heavy still snoring psychiatrist. The early morning blueish grey sunlight filters through the big windows Fred loves so much and lands on the bed next to you. Fred’s arms are loose around you, his body draped halfway on top of yours.

You smile faintly when you notice you’re wearing one of his shirts under all of the blankets and that your hair is done up in one of the ridiculously elaborate braids that he likes to show off with on occasion. Yes Fred, you have very long, very clever fingers, congratulations, you think to yourself with an indulgent smile. You shift your legs, stretching out and tangling them with his, and Fred’s arms tighten around you.

"G'morning, Sleeping Beauty." He mumbles against your collarbone, giving you a little squeeze as he stirs. You take his use of the nickname as a good sign; certainly your body feels pleasantly loose, the hint of an ache between your thighs telling you that at least something happened last night. Pressing your lips against the top of Fred's head, you shiver a little as his fluffy hair tickles your face.

"Morning yourself." You sigh happily, wrapping yourself around him and trying to encourage him to lie more directly on top of you. You're itching to ask him what happened last night, but you're not entirely sure yet if he's still half-asleep. He lets you pull at him, his warm, broad bulk settling over you and pressing you comfortably into the mattress as you wrap your legs around him. He must be fully awake; he pulls the collar of his shirt away from your neck so he can press a kiss there.

He continues to kiss every spot on your neck and collarbone that he can reach without moving his head and you sigh, relaxing under him. You can feel every inch of him on your body- the soft scratch of his stubble on your chest, the bare skin of his legs brushing against yours, the soft cotton of his boxer briefs rubbing deliciously against your clit. You snicker quietly. Of course he didn’t put your underwear back on.

“Mmm, feel good this morning,” you mumble quietly, eyes closed. He nips at your collarbone and you feel a smirk stretch across his lips against your skin.

“You should,” he mutters. “You certainly came enough.” He brags proudly and you’d slap his shoulder but the light ache between your legs feels so good you know he isn’t lying. With a groan, you stretch out beneath him and slide your fingers into the thick hair at the back of his head.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, letting your nails scratch ever so lightly against his scalp. Fred makes a soft, satisfied little noise in the back of his throat at the feeling; he must have missed you playing with his hair last night. Instead of answering straight away, he drags his tongue up your throat, tracing the line of your jugular vein and making you shiver at the sensation.

“Does it bother you that you don’t know?” His breath is hot against the side of your jaw, and your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair. “Or does it turn you on?” He practically purrs, nipping at your earlobe.

You pant lightly, shivering, your fingers clenching in his hair as his hands find their way inside of his shirt, long clever fingers dancing across your skin and brushing quickly over your nipples. You can feel yourself getting wet as his teeth nibble gently on your ear and the soft hairs at the back of your neck prickle at the feeling.

“Turns me on.” Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and he nods. You don’t have the wherewithal right now to try and tease him; he’s so warm and heavy on top of you, and you feel so loose and satiated. It hardly matters if your words go straight to his ego. It sounds as though he more than earned the right to be smug last night.

“Oh I can tell. I can feel you all over the front of my shorts,” he informs you, voice deeper and his erection growing between you. “Well, I suppose telling you all about it was part of the deal.” He presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers, “You were such a good girl, you came six times last night.”

“Six?” You ask with a whimper; no wonder you feel so loose and languid and just a little sore. Your last record was four before you had had to drag Fred away from you by the hair and plead with him tearfully that you needed him to stop. Your legs tighten around him reflexively and he nods, his nose bumping against your cheekbone.

“Six.” Fred confirms smugly, pinching one of your nipples and making you gasp. “I wanted to try for more, but you were starting to get...twitchy.” He says with a snicker. His fingers slide lower, working open the buttons of the shirt you’re wearing. Every brush of his knuckles against your skin sends a jolt of heat directly to the center of you, and you gasp as his fingers move lower and lower down your body.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have seen yourself. All pliable and pretty for me.” The smirk on his face is downright feral, and you can’t help yourself as you grind your hips up against him. “You were doing that in your sleep, you know. Rubbing yourself up against my pants while I was playing with your nipples. I thought you were going to make yourself come from just that when I started sucking them.” He sounds so smug and self-satisfied, but you want more. You’re practically about to beg him to let you record what he’s saying, god his voice does things to you that you’re pretty sure are criminal offenses in some states, but you choose your words with more care than that.

“Start at the beginning. Please Fred, tell me everything.” Your soft little plea is accompanied by another tug on his hair, another little buck of your hips. He hums against your cheek, his palms cupping your breasts and squeezing gently. His hands are warm, and broad, and you arch your back into his touch, desperate to press as much of yourself against him as possible.

“Should I walk you through it? Step by step?” You moan and nod sharply, his nose dragging against your face. He kisses your cheek and ruts his hips softly against yours, the drag of his semi-hard cock against your clit making the muscles in your legs spasm and jerk. “Well,” he begins. “I held you while you fell asleep, that was nice. You know how cuddly you get when you’re sleepy.” He nips at your nose and kisses you quickly on the mouth.

“That didn’t take too long, and god you were so soft in my arms.” His thumbs brush across your nipples and you gasp, hips arching into him and his hard cock again. “Then I kissed you, all over your face, all over your neck, as I unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it across the room.”

He presses his forehead to yours and one of his hands leaves your breast and comes up to your chin. He turns your face to the side and whispers, “Look. Open your eyes and look, it’s over there, hanging off that armchair.” You look and sure enough there’s your blouse, hanging half off the chair he loves to sit in when he watches you get yourself off. He’s using the same tone of voice as he does when he sits back and orders you to take your clothes off and touch yourself, and it goes straight to your core.

Fred chuckles right into your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Your pants were next. They seemed easier to slip off, and I didn’t know if the pill had fully kicked in enough. Once they were gone, I knelt between your legs, and just looked at you for a while. Deciding what to do with you.” You can picture it so clearly; Fred, still practically fully dressed, while you were splayed out half-naked and unconscious for him. It’s a mental image that is far too attractive for what it is. The enlightened feminist in you knows you shouldn’t be as turned on as you are by it, but when has that ever stopped you exploring some of Fred’s less conventional kinks.

“I think I ended up kissing every inch of you last night. I started at one ankle, and covered you in kisses, all the way up to your forehead and then back down your other leg.” With the hand that’s still cupping your face, he brushes his fingertips delicately over your lips. “You were smiling in your sleep.” Fred says smugly, his smirk only broadening when you open your mouth and start to suck lightly on the tips of his fingers. If it weren’t liable to make him too breathless to continue, you’d offer to suck his dick while he talks, but you’ll happily settle instead for those gorgeously long fingers of his.

“I could see how wet you were through your underwear by then. I’d barely touched you, but you were already soaked.” He groans, long and pleased, as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can still smell yourself on them, but all you can taste is him so he must have beaten you to licking them off.

“Fuck, you were so wet, I didn’t even bother trying to put them back on. Even after I spent hours on you they were still damp.” You moan around his fingers and he squeezes your breast. “I slipped them off of you and spread your legs and, god, love, you were laying there so sweet and nice and ready for me.” He lets go of your breast and runs his hand down your side, stopping to hang onto your hip.

“I didn’t start there though. I still had to get your bra off- you didn’t even stir when I broke the clasp.” He squeezes at your hip, but makes no move to stop your little thrusts as you try and grind against his cock, frustrated at the lack of friction.

“I spent so long on just your breasts; kissing them all over, sucking and biting at your nipples.You absolutely soaked the front of my pants, trying to rut up against me.” He says with a low chuckle. You can’t even fault him for sounding so smug; clearly you didn’t even need to be conscious to be desperate for him.

“And when I just couldn’t wait anymore, I gave in and started licking that sweet little cunt of yours.” Fred pinches your thigh, and you moan as best as you can around his fingers. For having seemed so hesitant about the idea at first, he had clearly taken to it eagerly.

You could feel just how eager he was to just tell you about it by the way he was pressed hard and hot against your cunt, letting you grind your hips against him in a desperate bid to get off. Except for the occasional tiny thrust that he seemed incapable of resisting, Fred held absolutely still and let you try to work off of him yourself.

“And oh, you tasted so sweet. Feeling your thighs twitch next to my head every time my nose brushed or bumped against your clit- because I had to clean off such a messy, wet workspace first, I couldn’t just go for the treat I really wanted- was delightful. Every time I licked over your cunt, or dipped the tip of my tongue inside a little you’d twitch, but besides those little spasms you didn’t move away from my mouth at all. Why, I hardly had to do any work at all darling.” You drag your teeth across his knuckles and his fingers dig into your thigh as he lets out a loud gasp, rocking his erection, still trapped in those stupidly tight boxer briefs, hard against you.

“Fuck, yes, those were orgasms numbers one and two; just me, cleaning up your mess before we could really get to the main event. And I took my time.” You were sure he did.

“Normally number three is when you start pulling at my hair like you want to scalp me.” He teases, dragging his nose along your neck and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you. Even after spending half the night indulging in you, it’s as though he still can’t get enough of you.

“But last night, you were such a good girl, letting me suck on your clit and fuck you with my tongue as much as I wanted. I even spat on your cunt, just to see whether that would get more than a twitch out of you. I think it just made you jump.” Another low chuckle rumbles through his chest and vibrates against your neck, and you whine around the fingers filling your mouth. The idea of Fred doing that is too much; you slip one hand from his hair and scratch at his back as you try to pull him, impossibly, closer to you.

“That was number three and number four.” He says, hissing slightly at the catch of your nails against his skin. “By then, I thought I’d conduct a little experiment. I wanted to see if you were wet enough for me to get four of my fingers inside of you.” Oh and the thought of that, combined with the rock of your clit against his cock and the drag of his underwear against that bundle of nerves, still sensitive from last night, is just too much.

You’re on the brink of another orgasm, it feels so good it almost hurts, and you whine around his fingers as you imagine the feel of nearly all of his fingers inside you. If you didn’t think it would leave you sore, you’d ask him to do it again now that you’re awake, just to see for yourself.

“Yes, my darling, four. We’ve only ever done three before, I know, but,” he licks lightly at your neck. “I figured now was the time to push our luck, with you so wonderfully soft and pliant beneath me.” You rock harder against him, faster and faster as he describes putting first one, and then two fingers inside you.

“Two was easy, and after four orgasms and that sedative you were so relaxed that three wasn’t as difficult as it normally is.” He spreads your legs to give you more room to really move against him and encourages you with a few thrusts of his own. You’re so close-

“My goodness you’re really enjoying this aren't you? Hearing all about what a good, cooperative girl you were for me, letting me do just what I wanted to you. Are you ready to hear about how slowly I worked on finger number four?” He asks quietly, and you whimper and nod around his fingers in your mouth.

“You were taking three so well, but I know how much you like to be stuffed full. You only had my pinkie to go, just my little finger, but you already felt so tight around the others. I spent so long easing you open, love, stretching your perfect little cunt out so carefully until I could just get the tips of all four fingers in.” You’re rolling your hips faster now, chasing your seventh orgasm in less than twelve hours and scrabbling at Fred’s back in an attempt to get him to meet your thrusts. You feel greedy, and increasingly sore, but you’re utterly helpless to stop yourself.

“God, it was such a pretty sight. I couldn’t resist watching all four of my fingers disappear inside of you, so slowly that you would have felt every millimetre if you’d have been awake.” As if to emphasize his point, he pushes his fingers a little deeper into your mouth. “Such a good girl, are you going to come again? Give me another, my darling, that’s it.” He coos as you fall apart, sobbing around his fingers as you come. The heat licking its way through your veins is verging on painful, your pleasure laced with a deep ache as your hips stutter and jerk against Fred.

“That’s it, just like that, yes, oh, that’s wonderful darling,” Fred praises you softly, petting your thigh as you ride through this, aching and jerking against him as he holds still above you. You try to whine his name around his fingers and he chuckles. “What was that?” He asks, finally pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly, grabbing onto your chin and leaving wet marks on your skin.

“Fred, fuck, that was-” You pause to take a deep breath. “That’s only number five.” Fred grins at you, pouty pretty lips stretched over perfect white teeth. He nods.

“Number five was with just the tips of my fingers inside you.” He agrees, wet fingers still squeezing your chin. His nose bumps against yours affectionately. “Number six was my favorite.” You can’t look away from his bright, sharp green eyes. “Number six. Wow.” He sighs happily and lets go of your chin and your thigh. Letting himself rest all the way on top of you, his bare skin warm against yours, his weight heavy and perfect, he frames your face with his forearms and cards his fingers through your hair.

“Oh, I loved number six. Darling, I had four fingers inside of you and you were just so tight.” He ruts gently against your sore and aching cunt. “You were so tight so I just pushed them all the way in so, so slowly, and then, with all of them deep inside of you, I got to use my tongue on your clit one last time.”

You’re aching so much already, and every drag of his hips makes your clit hurt, but you need to be closer to him. Impatiently, you pull at the waistband of his boxer briefs, dragging them down just enough to free his cock.

“Need you, please Fred. I need you inside me.” You whimper, utterly beyond caring about how smug he looks; he’s more than earned it.

“You were making the sweetest little noises by number six, love. The softest gasps and hitches in your breathing; I thought I was going to come in my pants like a teenager.” He cuts himself off with a low grunt as he slides against your soaked entrance, one of his hands slipping between your bodies so he can guide himself into you. You cry out sharply as he fills you, the pleasure shadowed by the slightest whisper of pain.

“After six, I took the rest of my clothes off, and finally fucked you. I thought about moving you onto your tummy for that, but I wanted to watch my cock split you open.” He stays still inside of you, despite your nails scraping lightly along his back and sides, desperately seeking for purchase. Instead, he brushes your hair delicately away from your face, utterly unbothered by your squirming.

“Fred, Fred please, Jesus, move please...” You whine, shifting underneath him, hitching your legs up around his hips and moaning as he slides deeper into you.

“Oh, darling, you always take me so well, even after six orgasms.” He rocks his hips slowly and you dig your nails into his sides, gasping as his cock hits a spot inside you that has your whole body aching so good. “There it is,” Fred sighs smugly. Every muscle in your body contracts as he pulls out inch by inch, making sure you feel every bit of him. His fingers are soft on your face as he holds still just inside you as you pant, eyes tightly shut.

“Fred...”

He kisses first one cheek and then the next, and then both eyelids before instructing, “Open your eyes.” You bite your lip and draw a shaky breath before doing so. His green eyes are sharp and as soon as he has your attention he pushes slowly back into you.

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises as your eyes slip closed. “Open.” He sets the slowest pace you can ever remember Fred fucking you, staring into your eyes as he takes you apart piece by piece on his cock. He fucks you deeply, and sore or not, you feel a familiar burning feeling in the pit of your stomach beginning to boil, your nerves twitching, your legs locking around his waist. It’s a fight to keep your eyes open and on his.

Somehow it feels so much bigger, so much more, with his eyes locked on you seeing everything, seeing right through you. You need him to come; you don’t think you have another orgasm left in you.

“This is how I fucked you last night.” Fred says, practically purring when you slide your fingers back into his hair.

“So slowly, and so deeply that I thought I might hit the end of you. God, I’d spend all my time buried in your perfect cunt if I could, you’re always so tight, and warm, and wet for me. And you were so good last night, so pliant and pretty. My very own Sleeping Beauty.” He huffs a laugh, his breath warm against your skin and only adding to the complete sensory overload you’re experiencing. You buck your hips and try to tighten around him, trying to push him into coming faster.

“Fred, please, I can’t.” You sob weakly, looking deeply into those piercing eyes of his and searching for a reprieve. Every lick of burning pleasure that’s coiling in your core hurts just a little more than the one that came before, and you truly don’t know how much more you have in you.

“Oh you can, darling. I know you can, you really can.” He encourages, smile easy, eyes so sure, so confident. You squeeze your legs around his waist and tug hard on his hair.

“Fred, god-” You break off with another sob, and Fred groans as you clench around his cock inside of you.

“Just a little more darling, just- fuck, just a bit more.” Fred thrusts harder a few times, hips stuttering, eyes tightening and his hands leaving your hair to grip the pillow next to your head hard, twisting the fabric between his fingers. You cry out as his hips shove hard once, twice and he comes, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face in your neck, grazing his teeth against your skin.

You clutch him to you tightly as he grumbles happily into your neck, soft satisfied sounds as he presses you into the mattress, cock still jerking inside of you. You breathe heavily underneath him, aching, sore, and content, your nerves still twitching, and your legs still clutched around him.

You’re not sure how long the two of you lie like that for, both thoroughly worn out and satiated. It’s not long before the soreness between your legs makes itself known, and Fred doesn’t miss your wince as you try to shift your legs. In an instant he’s sitting up, pulling out of you carefully so as not to hurt you further, those gorgeous green eyes full of concern as he looks you over. As sore as you are, you try to tug him back down on top of you, but he’s having none of it.

“I think you need a hot bath. Doctor’s orders.” He says firmly. You’re in no mood to bicker with him; quite honestly, the idea of relaxing in your claw foot tub with him sounds incredible. Before he can climb out of bed to start running the water, you catch his hand.

“We’re definitely trying this again, aren’t we?” You say, with an exhausted little laugh.

#frederick chilton x reader #frederick chilton #hannibal #raúl esparza #collaboration #fan fic #writing #fanfiction

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youremeimyou · 5 years

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Buttercup & her best friend Guk

(M)

pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader genre: angssstt(don’t be fooled by the title, this is angsty stuff), some fluff, slight smut(?) idk I’ve never written anything describing ‘doing the deed’ before- friends to best friends THEN to lovers au lol, touch oriented Jungkook, ex-boyfriend Jimin word count: 6k warnings: smut(not too explicit but a bit rough) check out my mlist

Description: Jungkook has become someone very important to you over the last couple of years. But after your last experience with dating your best friend, you resolve to repressing your feelings. Until Jungkook can’t repress his own, anymore.

A/N: I had started writing this before the comeback but could only finish now. Btw the comeback was too lit i can’t even- Anyways, I hope you like this oneshot. As always, I’ll really appericiate if you leave feedback. I’d love to know what you think so that I can improve my writing. Enjoy!

Guk is your friend. He has always been ever since you got to know each other. What changed in the course of last few years was how close of a friend he was to you. You met him through Jimin, your former crush of a best friend as you liked to call him. See, being Jimin's best friend was easy at that time. Jimin is so full of love that he can't help but share it with others. And your clingly but cute friendship with him had started right after randomly getting paired in a group project in freshman year. But things move so fast with that guy.

You'd admit, despite having a long line of girls insterested in him, the fact that Jimin would always walk to you after stepping inside the school had you squirming and squeaking inside. Which sped up the whole falling for your best friend process excessively. And once you kissed him at that stupid frat party when you were both drunk, he felt like he had to respond to not have you feeling bad. The start of all your problems..

Because after being together for half a year, you overheard him talking to Hoseok about how your first kiss had actually happened. And it made you furious with thinking he was pity dating you that whole time.

And as fast as it begun, it was over. You were heartbroken for sure but realized maybe you weren't a great pair to begin with. As best friends, you were. With how you could talk to each other about everything, how you'd help each other with every problem and how much fun days would be. But the awful outcome of all of that was your friendship was lost in the process, too. Your friendship with Jimin meant you get to spend time with six other amazing guys that you loved, on a daily basis once. But unfortunately that too, was no longer possible for you after the break-up.

Except for Jungkook.

As you had a falling out with Jimin, you grew closer with Jungkook. In fact, when you told him why you guys broke up, he went to Jimin and Hoseok's place in fury and had a serious fight with Jimin. Which damaged their relationship as well. Normally rushing like that without having a talk wasn't something Guk would do. Especially to his hyungs, whom he loved and respected very much.

But seeing the fragile look on your face that night, with tears theatening to fall down from your eyes, something came over him. Because in all the time he had known you, he hadn't witnessed a moment when you seemed week. It was characteristic of you to put up a front and hide it when you were struggling. But that night you were too hurt to pretend. And having Guk around, you didn't feel like you had to. His embrace was comfortable enough to fall apart in. So when you started trembling as he had his arms around you, he felt like his heart was being ripped out. Hence, the fight. And they didn't go on to become enemies or anything but it wasn't the same between him and his hyungs either.

Guk stayed with you since then. Not replacing the role of being your best friend but giving it a whole new meaning. Because he became someone you opened your heart to like you did to no one else.

Which is the reason why you're sitting on the hood of his car right now, staring at the night sky. It's chilly and you don't have a coat but it's okay. Because just as you suddenly shiver a little, a blanket is being wrapped around you. "Lucky you left these in the car after the last picnic." Jungkook says as he joins you on the hood and adds his arms to cover you from the cold. This isn't unusual for you two, especially since Jungkook is touch-oriented and you enjoy cuddles. What's kind of out of the ordinary is how quiet Jungkook's been all night. You've noticed but didn't mention it up until now, hoping he'd open up at some point. Because you were his confidant just as he was yours.

But Jungkook just kept his head low for the most of the night. It was his idea to come out here by the river, too. Which is a bit strange. Normally he'd make fun of you for planning a hangout such as this one, calling you a hopeless romantic. He seems calm but when he looks off into the distance, you can somehow see his mind is full and foggy.

"Are you gonna tell me what's on your mind, Guk?"

He looks down at you in surprise. "What do you mean?"

You want to continue but out of nowhere, you find yourself trying to repress a smile, because of the way his face seems upside down. Your head is currently positioned on his chest and you're apperantly still a child cause you find the reverted sight of his head funny.

"What's funny?" His demenour changes when he notices your lips curving, his features soften.

"Nothing. Other than your face." you tease. To such a comment, he'd usually respond with a forehead flick or something. But this time he giggles. "Your face upside down is quite the sight too, Y/N." He knows you like the back of his hand. He slowly removes a string of hair out of your eyes and to the back of your ear. Then turns back to watching the distance.

"I can see something's bothering you, Gukkie. Tell me what it is, so I can fix it." Your statement's geniune. You'd do anything to help him and he knows it. He also knows you're the only one who can fix what's wrong with him. That's why it hurts him to not be able to say it.

"I'm starting to like this kind of thing. You know, getting all cozy watching the stars and all. I'm afraid you're rubbing off on me."

You know he's just making this up to avoid the question but pushing the subject isn't the way to go with Jungkook. You'll take your time trying to figure out what's up.

"Then the solution is clear. You gotta get rid of me."

His gaze falls on you once more. "Don't even think for a second I'm ever letting you go."

That sentence is everything. It's reassuring and intimate but moreover, real. More real than what others promised to you before. After Jimin, you tried your chances with other guys. Luck wasn't on your side, though. Every bad ending made you close yourself more and shut others out. Making trust almost impossible. Guk is the only guy you can believe when he says he won't abandon you.

"Wanna head back? It's getting even colder out here." Jungkook suggests after a while of enjoying each other's company in silence. But sees that you've already fallen asleep on his chest. He has to carry you to the car and then to your house. Being as gentle as possible, he places you on your bed, lingering above you a bit longer than necessary.

Just as he's about to leave, you open your eyes ever so slightly when you feel the warmness of his touch fading away. "Hey.. stay.."

Jungkook's breath hitches and then he sighes heavily. "Now you wake up?"

Smiling at his complaint with your eyes half closed, you hold a grip on his wrist. "I'm sorry. Will you stay?"

Of course he will. "I was gonna come back to drive you to class in the morning, anyway. So why not?" He slips under the covers next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you to him. Which makes your smile grow even wider.

"C'moon, Y/N. Hurry!" Jungkook whines and pulls you down the stairs of your aparment in a rush. He just came over to your place at five in the morning, waking you up and dragging you out, claiming that he needed to show you something. You don't even get to question just what it is exactly he has to show you at this stupid hour when you make your way to the street.

"Did it shrink?"

Jungkook looks at you with confused eyes. "What?"

You lift your index finger to point at the motorcycle he's currently sitting on. "Did your car shrink to this?"

As soon as the penny drops Jungkook bursts into laugther, producing cute sounding giggles. Then, he is finally able to control himself. "And here I was, excited to show you my bike! I thought you'd like it." A playful pout settles on his lips.

"I- I mean it looks great, it's just.." you drag your sentence out at first, embarresed to say it but finally you give up with a sigh and admit. "I like it better in a car where it's- you know, safe."

Another round of merciless laughter comes from Guk. Until he notices you glaring. "It's not that dangerous, Y/N."

"Oh really?" You lift your left eyebrow in disbelief. It's only been a few days since you saw that motorcycle accident on the news, too. The balls this guy has, you think. When he senses that you're about to give him a whole lecture on the subject, mentioning known motorcycle accident rates and all, he quickly cuts you off and adds, "I mean, you don't have to worry because I'll be the one riding it, buttercup."

There it is. Buttercup. The nickname he mostly uses when he wants to convince you to do something you don't wanna do. (He also rarely calls you that if a moment you're having is too intimate.)

You cross your arms and just stand there, still glaring at him. His playful pout is then joined by sad doe eyes. "See?" he reaches up a helmet to you, bright purple with colorful decorations on it. It's pretty cute, you have to admit. "I had designed this helmet just for you and everything, too." When you still don't say a word, he gets up from the seat and comes towards you.

"Don't you trust me, buttercup?"

You take the helmet out of his hands and place it on your head, causing Jungkook's pout to transform into a bunny smile.

"Get ready for a hell of a fun ride, Y/N." he says with a smirk as you settle behind him.

"If you kill us, I won't hang out with you in hell."

"Yes, you will. But we'll be fine, trust me."

In fact, you do trust him. You know he's had his M1 licence for years now and he's been saving up for a bike maybe his whole life. It's just the other people on the streets that you have a problem trusting. Since those so called car drivers tend to not see bike riders in traffic. But as you slowly start crusing the streets you realize there aren't many cars out there if any. Considering how early it is, it’s not exactly a surprise.

Jungkook starts picking up speed, not all at once but little by little. And you don't notice until you feel the wind harsh against your face. "Guk, don't go crazy." You hear him hum affirmatively over the motor sound. But he doesn't slow down. On the contrary, he's going even faster.

He makes a sudden turn and you grab his waist tightly in panic. Speed was never really your thing but it is just so Jungkook. By this point, you're not even looking around you. You're just ducked down behind Jungkook, holding onto him like a lifeline, eyes shut tight and head burried in his nape.

Then, Jungkook slows down. The roaring sound of the motor dials down and it takes a moment for you to finally open your eyes. When you do, you see that you're crossing a bridge. The dawn is breaking and the sky is splendid. You see every shade of yellow, orange and red up there. The wind is soft and the heat of the rising sun warms you to your bones. It's probably one of the most precious things you've ever witnessed. And you don't know why, but the sunrise resembles Jungkook in your mind. Only, the glow of his skin under it nearly outshines the sun itself. That's how beautiful Jungkook looks.

Your grip on his waist loosens but it's still there. Now, you're just holding him in content, wanting to share the moment. "This is what I wanted to show you, buttercup." His voice is just above a whisper. And you silently thank him by placing a soft but long kiss on his shoulder. Which is worth more than words to Jungkook.

"I wanna go~"

Jungkook cannot roll his eyes enough to express his disagreement. He's had more than enough of frat parties over the course of your college years.

"But I thought we weren't gonna do frat parties anymore."

"It's been years since we've been to one. I just think it could be fun, you know. And they have the best booze."

Well, they have free booze. But yeah, free booze is the best booze, Jungkook agrees. This particular frat house is the one his hyungs hangs out at, however. Since Taehyung and Namjoon live there. It used to be the usual chilling place back when you were dating Jimin. You haven't been there since the break-up and neither has Jungkook.

"You know he'll be there, Y/N." You give him a careless shrug. "Yeah. I don't care. I'm tired of running away from him." He looks at you with squinted eyes, wondering what caused your change of heart after almost three years. It doesn't look like you're gonna give up. "Fine. We'll go."

When you get there the party has already started but the door is closed, as always. Frat boys don't allow intruders. After ringing the bell rapidly you wait there, hoping someone can hear it over the music and moments later, a tall brunette opens the door and gasps immediately.

"Hey, Taehyung."

Next thing you know is Taehyung launching at you, trapping you in a tight hug. "I missed you, Y/N." he says with a muffled voice. You weren't expecting such a warm welcome. But Taehyung's always been an amazing friend to you. You can't deny that you've missed him, too. He breaks away from you only to tackle Jungkook down to the ground. "Finally remembered the way to hyung's house, have you Guk?" Thankfully, you're familiar with this hugging/wrestling thing they always did back then.

"Wanna let us in?" Guk manages to say while getting pinned down.

You make your way inside and apparently shit has already gone crazy. Everyone is making out with someone at some corner, the smell of weed is all over the place and beer pong seems to have turned into a fight rather than a friendly competition.

Taehyung fixes you up with two glasses of whiskey, since you're special guests. And okay, Jungkook can understand that Taehyung has missed you and wants to catch up but oh why does he have to walk in between you two? he thinks. His hands are all over you, too. Which is normal for you, you know he's touchy with all his close friends but it just annoys the hell out of Jungkook right now.

When you arrive at the big living room, you see him. Park Jimin in all his might. It's obvious he hasn't lost the king of beer pong title to anyone, with the way he's standing gracefully in front of the table and how people around him are worshipping him. He seems the same, except for the hair. He's dyed it pink. Jimin hasn't seen you yet and as he starts looking your way you take cover behind the boys.

"It's safe, he's gone the other way, honey." Taehyung informs. Honey? What the fuck? are Jungkook's thoughts.

You come out to see Jimin sitting on the sofa, with his back facing you. A girl comes to sit on his lap, grinding her hips on his and her lips are all over his neck. Jimin's too busy to notice you, tonight.

"Y/N." Jungkook appears in front of you. "We can still get out of here and go to a club or something-"

"No! We're gonna have fun and we'll do it here." Stubbernness usually comes with tipsy Y/N package, both Jungkook and Taehyung know this. So you stay.

After a while, when you've gulped down your third glass of whiskey and had a couple of vodka shots, you're ready to go crazy. Taehyung puts on a groovy hip hop song, wondering if you still own the dance-floor at parties. You don't. But with the amount of alcohol in your veins you forget that and get up on the table. When you start moving to the beat, a lot of woo-hoos can be heard. You've got some moves so this used to be your thing back then. People are gathering around you, cheering. Jungkook is trying to stay close to catch you in case you lose balance.

Which you eventually do and you stumble backwards on the edge but fall to the opposite side of Jungkook. And right into the arms of Jimin. Perfect.

"Caught you." he says and you gulp. First interaction in almost three years and you're in his arms. Jimin slowly and gently puts you down, helping you stand straight. "You're still the best drunk dancer around, huh?" His eyes are locked with yours. Why is he trying to converse with you? Why did he even save you? The last time you were together, you were shouting at him with anger, not even letting him speak. Didn't he hate you after that like you thought?

"I really am drunk."

"Let's get you to the couch-"

Jungkook runs over to you and pulls you to himself. "Buttercup, you okay?" You nod and he sighes in relief. Jimin leaves when Guk shows up, though.

Jungkook sits you down on the couch, examining your body for possible injuries but Taehyung calls him over.

"C'mon Guk! These guys are challenging your record. Let's show 'em." Jungkook tries to wave his hand to signal no but you stop him. "Just go. I'm fine."

"Y/N you just fell from-"

"I'm okay, I was caught. We're supposed to be having fun and you haven't finished your first drink yet. Just go and beat those guys in shots. Show 'em whose boss, Guk." Jungkook's record of downing more shots than anyone is important to him whether he admits it or not. But he hesitates to leave you. You have to push him and kick him on the butt lightly to make him go over there.

Once he leaves, you're once again across the view of the same girl devouring Jimin's neck. And this time, Jimin is responding. Unbottoning her shirt and kissing all over her bra. It's becoming too much for you to watch. Not that you're jealous, you've been over him for quite some time. But the sight just brings back the memory of a guy touching you or kissing you because he loved you. Well, you thought he loved you back then. That's why it was too hard to find out the truth about your relationship. After him, none of the guys you dated could make you feel special either. Even sex was just sex at a certain point so you stopped having that, too.

You get up and go to another room but the sudden movement makes you dizzy. Wobbly walking without looking ahead, you bump into someone.

"Shit, I'm sorry-"

"It's okay." he says and catches you when you lose balance again. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just moved suddenly that's all. I'm fine now."

He's tall. And definetely attractive. He pushes his hair back and you notice his lip ring. Fuck.. you love lip rings. Things escalate quickly and you find yourself dancing with him, bodies really close. It gets real steamy real fast when he places his lips on your neck.

"You're really beautiful." he whispers in your ear. "And I love the way you move to the beat." Compliments are only to get in your pants and you know it. But you don't mind, maybe it's what you seek. "You're not so bad yourself." After dancing and talking some more, he suggests to go somewhere else but you don't wanna waste time so you take him upstairs. Meanwhile Jungkook's been looking for you, going around the house and catches sight of you at the last second, seeing you going up the stairs and dragging someone with.

He tries to get to you quickly but the way is blocked with college students dancing and high out of their minds. It takes a while for him to break through and get to the staircase. You've already reached the closest room, Taehyung's. But it's occupied. By none other than Jimin and that girl. Seeing that fires you up even more and you drag the guy to Namjoon's room. Thankfully that one's available.

But someone barges in. "What the fuck are you doing?" It's Jungkook. He's pissed.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing? Can't you see we're busy-" Jungkook grabs the guy and drags him out. Despite being shorter, he's more built and easily overpowers him. Then, closes the door flat on his face and turns to you.

"Jungkook, what the-"

"Do you know who he is?" he shouts at you.

"Yeah, the guy I was about to bang-"

"Do you even know his name, Y/N?" he's practically screaming at this point.

"It's Minjae or something."

"It's Jaebum. And he's a dick. He just wants to sleep with you and that's it. Do you know how many girls he played with? He's a fuckboy-"

"Great. That's what I wanted. I wanted someone who knows how to fuck good and you just kicked him out!" You shout back. This isn't like him, he's never intervened like this before. And he's shocked to hear you say those things. You, who wouldn't even bother having a one night stand anymore because of how meaningless it seemed.

"Why are you doing this, Y/N? Is it because of Jimin?"

"No!" Your face drops. "Yes?- I don't know. I just wanted someone to make me feel special. I haven't felt like that for the longest time, Guk."

Jungkook's whole demeanour changes and his eyes go dark. "And you go to that guy? A stranger you don't even know, to make you feel special?" He moves closer to you, making your heart race. You take a step back but your back hits the wall. He's trapped you. "You think he can give it to you better than I can?" He's so close that you feel his breath on your neck.

"Unlike him, I know just how special you are," One of his hands finds your shoulder. "how beautiful you are," That hand travels down your arm and finds your waist. "how strong but also how delicate you actually are." He grips your waist tightly, pulling you closer if that's even possible. "But I never even cross your mind like that, do I?" He speaks as if the words are venom. Almost like he's hurt. But what he doesn't know is he has been in your mind like that. More than once or twice.

"You do.." It's barely even audible so Jungkook has to ask again in shock.

"What?"

"You do cross my mind like that. I just-"

His lips are on yours.

What you were hoping to get from that Jaebum guy tonight can't even get close to this feeling and all Jungkook's doing is kissing you. But it's too deep to be labeled as just a kiss. Very rough but passionate, open mouthed and wet. He practically has to rip himself apart from you to let the both of you breath.

Your hands instinctively go to his belt, trying sloppily to unbuckle it. Which makes him freeze and come out of the frenzy he was in.

"Wait. Y/N, are we going too far?"

Not the time to be considerate Guk, you think but his hand finds yours and stops them.

"Not far enough, Guk." You slap his hand away and get to the task at hand once more.

"Y/N- I won't be able to stop if you keep this up. Are you- are you sure-"

"Jungkook.. please.." You have no idea what's gotten into you. Maybe it's the repressed feelings you've been having for him coming to surface or maybe it’s the alcohol but you're dying for him to touch you right now. "Just please.."

And that's all it takes for his eyes to go dark again. Next thing you know is you're on the bed, no clue how or when you got there and Jungkook is pushing into you relentlessly. When did you get undressed? When did he even put the condom on? Time is so wobbly in that moment. It feels like seconds and hours at the same time. And Jungkook turns out to be right. He does know you the best. Every inch of your body he'd already learned from all the times you held each other close. Somehow, he knows exactly where to touch and how.

Every moan from you is music to his ears and he gives his all to hear more of it. Moans turn into his name as you close in on your climax. "J-Jungkook ahh.. Jungkook.." you scream on and on and he can't hold much longer, either. His thrusts become sloppy but determined to satisfy you the best as he claimed, he keeps filling you up.

"Don't stop. I'm almost there.. I'm-" you cum all over him and he follows soon after. All the while having the most dazed smile on his face. After pulling out, he connects your lips once more but this time it's softer. Like he's savouring the taste.

Then he lies next to you and silence takes over. You want to say something but all words are lost to you. Everything is overwhelming, from the way you’re both out of breath to how his head is burried in the crook of your neck. Guk on the other hand seems to be in a bliss.

"I.. I love you, buttercup." he manages to say before dozing off. You open your mouth to say something, but close it when you hear the light sleeping noises coming from him. He's only saying that because of what just happened, right?

Taehyung finds you like that in his bed a couple of hours later and kicks the two of you out. "I have to bleach my sheets and my eyes now, thanks." he complains while doing so. You make him swear to never speak of this to anyone and he complies. "I'm blocking this memory out completely, don't worry."

The ride home is silent. You still hold Jungkook's waist on the bike but he doesn't stay with you when you get home. Even though he'll come back in a few hours to take you to class. You don't ask why, you need to take time to process everything, as well.

Last night is the fifth time in a row that you don't get enough sleep. A couple of weeks has past since that night with Jungkook and honestly.. you’re fucked to say the least. On the surface it looks like you’re both moving on with your lives as normal, almost like nothing happened. Almost being the keyword here. Because once you take a closer look, you can see that the times he stays over at your place has dialed down to a zero. Touching each other freely is no longer an option, either. And these among many others are the reasons you can’t sleep properly.

Your plan is to talk to him tonight. The original plan is going to Taehyung’s birthday party that’s being held in a club. After the frat party he insisted both of you to join since you’ve missed the last two birthdays of his. And you agreed. Especially because Guk was starting to patch things up with his hyungs again and you had missed the guys as well. And you’re gonna talk to Guk when you see him there. For sure.

If he ever comes near you for more than ten seconds, that is. The venue is cramped up with lots of people and Jungkook must’ve made it his mission to speak to each and every one of them because he won’t stop moving around. After trying to get him alone for countless times and failing, you retreat to the sitting area with the biggest frown on your face. Jimin finds you and sits next to you.

“Why are you sulking in the corner? Don’t let Taehyung see you like this, he says everyone has to be having the time of their lives and he seems pretty strict about it.” Considering that Taehyung’s a drama queen, that sounds about right.

“I can’t get Jungkook to pay attention to me.”

Jimin smiles at your pouty face. “Oh no! A lovers’ quarrel?”

“Wha- No! We’re not- lovers.” you air-quote the word ‘lovers’, it always sounded strange to you.

Confusion can be read on Jimin’s face. “Really? We always thought you guys were dating. Are you sure you’re not?” The last part he says in a teasing voice.

“I’m positive Jimin, don’t make fun of me.” you’re still sulking.

“I’m not. So what happened?”

You turn your head to look at him. After all this time, you feel like you can still talk to him and he’ll understand. “I- I mean we- well, it happened so suddenly but-”

“You guys had sex.”

Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops with shock.

“Taehyung told me how he caught you two.” Jimin shrugs. That traitor.

“Okay, yes. And I think I scared him away. Just like I did to you.” You laugh at the irony bitterly.

Jimin turns completely to you and makes you face him as well. “Look Y/N, I never really had the chance to explain back then but- you didn’t scare me away. It wasn’t like what you thought. Yeah, our first kiss was totally out of nowhere for me but I truly loved dating you. I did, in a really short time, fall for you. And I was in no way pity dating you. It was all real, I swear.”

Wait, what? You had fought with Jimin all those years ago and ended your relationship over nothing? And you screamed at him, blamed him for something so shitty that he didn’t even actually do? Your heart sank. “Jimin, I-”

“Look, I was sad but I moved on. I know you have, too. To Jungkook. I was pretty upset, thinking he stole you from me for quite some time.”

“Jimin, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything to me. But just- it’s okay that you’ve fallen for your best friend. It wasn’t a mistake then and it’s not a mistake now. But talk to him about it, alright?”

Well fuck. He's right. You have fallen for your best friend again. Two things are different about this time, though. The first is this time you managed to hide it, even from your self. Because of how badly things ended before. And the second thing is what you feel for Jungkook is poles apart from your former feelings for Jimin.

If the first time your desire was a candle light, this time it's the sun in its entirety. And even though you've been flying too close to it this whole time, it doesn't burn you, instead it warms your soul. The simple sight of Jungkook is enough to comfort you and his arms are always home. And ever since you've had a taste of him, the taste of his body linking with yours in a perfect fit and the blissful feeling following that, you know this isn't like anything you've felt before.

"So.. it looks like your moment of clarity is in process. I'm gonna go get Gukkie." Jimin says and gets up.

You stop him for a moment, gripping his shirt. "Thanks, Jimin. And I'm sorry." Then you let your grip go and put on a guilty but geniune smile. He smiles understandingly as response before going to find Jungkook.

Jimin gets up on one of the futons to get a better view into the crowd. Which helps him locate the younger boy. He suddenly feels nervous as he walks closer to Jungkook. He had no problem talking to you but somehow he had this stupid pride about talking to Jungkook until now. Because yeah, you yelled at him and said heavy things but Jungkook.. one of the people who knows him best didn't even bother asking if what he heard was true. And the fight they had was a physical one. Which left Jungkook with a bleeding nose, Jimin with a black eye and both of them with broken hearts.

Jimin slowly taps on Guk's shoulder, making him turn around.

"Can I talk to you Jungkook?"

Jungkook's eyes tear up a bit but he holds it in. He's always felt guilty about how he treated Jimin back then and carried that with him for a long time. And now, all of that mixed with the little alcohol in his system, makes him emotional. Especially because it's Jimin who made the first approach, even though it's Jungkook who was at fault. "Hyung.. I-"

"Both of us were lost in a misunderstanding that day. But I'm the hyung, I should've made things right. I'm sorry-"

"No! I am. I don't know why I attacked you like that, without even trying understand you before. And I was a coward for not coming to sort things out all this time. Hyung, please forgive me for hurting you."

Jimin's eyes turn into crescents and he pulls the younger in a tight hug. "We've all missed you so you have to make up for all the lost time, punk." He jokingly scolds him but in brotherly language, it means he accepts the apology.

"I will hyung. In fact, let's have a drink-" Jungkook smiles as they part. But Jimin makes him turn his body towards you. "First, talk to her."

"Wha-"

"A bit of advice, tell her exactly how you feel. No lies." Then he practically shoves Guk your way. You were already walking to him so you meet halfway when Jungkook -being pushed- clashes into you, making you stumble backwards.

Thankfully he catches you before you fall but now, his arms completely surround you and your faces are only inches apart. "Shit- you okay Y/N?"

"Yeah, you?"

He nods but doesn't let go for a while, staring into your eyes with his own misty, chocolate ones.

"Did you talk to Jimin-ie hyung about something? Cuz he was just mentioning-"

"Why are you avoiding me after- that night?" you cut him off in a moment of boldness, returning the intense gaze back. And you can feel his body tense up immediately after. The clouds in his eyes grow and worry is written all over them.

"You didn't say it back. And I felt so stupid."

Your stomach drops. You didn't say that you loved him back and that's why he felt like he made a mistake.

"I felt like I pushed you into what happened that night. Just because I'm irrevocably in love with you, doesn't mean that you have to feel the same way-"

Not being able to take it anymore, you clash your lips onto his. You don't think you can explain with words just how much you do love him back. How he became your closest and then your whole life. So you pour everything into that kiss, hoping he might understand.

And he returns the kiss in light speed. But you can tell that he's shocked from the way his hands lift up from around your body. When you part, the mist in his eyes are gone and replaced by sparkles.

"I'm sorry. I love you so bad that I feared I'd push you away. That's why I couldn't say it back. The last time I fell for my best friend-"

"I'm not Jimin." he says. You're very well aware. His eyes go big in realization and he backs away from you a little before speaking. "So.. I'm not a dumbass for thinking that all of our picnics, night drives, all the times we sat by the river looking at the sky and every movie we saw huddled together always felt like it could actually be a date?"

A smile creeps up on your mouth because these are all exactly your thoughts. Everything you've done together felt like the best date ever. Even the goofiest stuff.. You nod at him, still smiling.

His hands find your body again, softly surrounding your waist as he pulls you closer to himself. "We don't have to change much for them to be real dates. Just add a couple of kisses from now on and that's it." He jokes around. "So, will you have me?" His gaze goes a little fragile while asking that. If anything, he's a dumbass for thinking he has to ask.

"Only if you add some of what you did to me that night into the mix." You say slyly and he fakes a dramatic gasp.

"You're naughty. But I'm sure I can fix you up. When are you available?"

You go closer to his ear and mutter the next words only above a whisper. "Right now."

Then you both giggle as you hastily make your way out of there. It's safe to say this is the best night you've had in quite a while. And it'll only get better from now on.

...

A/N: My first Jungkook fic!! I know it was long, thanks sooo much if you bared with me and read it. I hope you enjoyed it. Also, idk if you’ve read any of my previous work but if you have, you might’ve seen that I’m always asking for feedback but end up not getting it(i mean comments, your likes are very much appreciated ofc). It really does mean a great deal to me to see what you guys think of my fics. So I’d be glad to read your comments. Anyways, have a lovely dayyy :)

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herohotline · 5 years

Text

Wet Clay (P.2)

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Summary: You finally have your first session when Uraraka comes by your office. Things are steadily flowing in your job now, and you learn a little more about Aizawa as you talk with his students.

Word Count: 5,000+

Part One | Part Three | Part Four

The first thing you added to your office was a tall bamboo plant- your sister gave it to you a while ago and you never thought it did very well in your house. Then you brought a few carpets, and then some lamps to create a better atmosphere. You even got some candles to sit on top of the miniature bookcase you hauled in with Ectoplasm’s help. After that, you started to bring in the items that were mainly for stimulation: squishy balls, clay, water beads…

You always liked playing with them yourself whenever your patients left and you were alone.

Besides introducing yourself to the 1-B class, you haven’t done much in U.A. You were beginning to feel a little restless, but you knew you had to give the students some time before they came to you.

For now, it was just… boring.

Today is Wednesday, so it’s officially been a week and two days since you were hired. Nezu came by at one point to admire the progress in your office, but you were ashamed to admit to him that the progress ended there. He didn’t seem surprised, though, so at least you weren’t in trouble with your boss.

It was strange thinking of a little insanely smart mouse-bear as your boss, but that’s what the world is now.

But, finally, something happens. You’re sitting at your desk and wondering what you’ll eat for lunch today when there’s 3 quiet knocks on your door. It surprises you so much you almost yell out- but you keep yourself quiet as you rush over to the door. Is it a student?

Opening your office, you see a familiar brunette with pink cheeks. “Oh, uh… Uraraka, was it?”

The girl smiles as she places her hands together. “Yes! I’m glad you remembered!”

“Me too,” you laugh, opening your door a bit wider. “Would you like to come in?”

“Ah… yes please.” She bows her head respectfully as she enters, and then lights up again when she looks around. “It looks really nice in here!”

Closing the door, you head over to one of the plush seats and sit on the edge. She slowly does the same thing, sitting on the couch instead. “Thank you, I worked hard to make it homey here. May I ask why you came to me today?”

Uraraka lets out a nervous breath, still smiling as she fidgets in her seat. “Honestly, I just wanted to see what this was like… I know everyone’s pretty wary to come, and I wanted to see for myself.”

Ah, that makes sense. You tried hard to make a good impression the first day, but teenager’s trust isn’t gained so easily.

“Well, I appreciate you coming to me, Uraraka. You’ll see that I’m not very scary, I just want to help you have a shoulder to lean on. But we don’t have to talk if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I… want to try,” she says. You admire her for her bravery and you silently lean back in your seat, giving her time to think of what she wants to say. With the look on her face, you can tell she’s trying to concentrate and you don’t want to break it. “...Sometimes I feel a little selfish.”

She stops there, so you take that as your cue. “Why do you think that?”

Her hands fidget in her lap nervously, wringing her skirt. “I want to become a hero to help my family. I want to make money so they don’t have to work as hard, but… becoming a hero for my own needs seems…”

“Selfish,” you finish for her and she nods her head. You take a minute to think before reaching under your coffee table, pulling out your basket of goodies and setting it on top. “You can use any of these if you're nervous. I personally like the jumble ones, they act like knots,” you grab one of the toys and use it yourself.

Uraraka hesitates, but eventually, she grabs one of the balls and gives it a firm squeeze.

“Uraraka, you’re not selfish. You’re selfless. You love your family and you’ve decided to become their hero. Loving your family and wanting to take care of them doesn’t make you selfish- it makes you kind.”

Your voice comes out low and soothing, the way you find it best to talk when you’re dealing with unconfident people. She looks up at you nervously, still squeezing the ball in her hand. “Are you sure?” She asks and you give her your best smile.

“Very. Your parents are very lucky to have a thoughtful daughter like you, and I’m sure they know it, too.”

Uraraka seems to lighten up, just a little bit.

——

You and Uraraka continue to talk for around half an hour before she notices it’s time for lunch and she doesn’t want to miss it. You write her a slip in case she’s late to anything- and then you notice how she’s still squeezing the ball.

“I have one more question for you before you go, Uraraka.” You stand up and she follows you. “Does squeezing that bring you comfort at all?”

She looks down at the toy with wide eyes, her cheeks a little more pink than usual. “O-oh! I didn’t notice I still had it… I guess it does.”

“Then you should keep it,” you suggest and she wildly shakes her head.

“I- I couldn’t! This is yours!”

“Don’t worry,” you smile at her and walk to your office door, opening it widely. “I have plenty. If it makes you happy when you’re anxious, I want you to have it. That’s what it’s meant for.”

“Y-you’re sure?” She keeps looking at you unsurely as you slowly nudge her out.

“Very.”

And then, surprisingly, she rushes back to you. Her arms envelop you in a hug, catching you completely off guard before she’s suddenly a few feet away from you again. “Thank you for today, ____!” Uraraka bows rather harshly before she’s running far, far away from you, down the hall and around the corner.

You watch her with a big smile, your heart feeling just a little lighter- and you don’t think it’s because of her quirk. You’re still grinning as you lock your office and head down to the convenience store outside of U.A for a much-earned lunch- it’s like you can’t stop. But who can blame you?

You’re finally doing your job, and it felt good.

——

“Hey, what’s that?”

The class is in the middle of a group project when Ashido points out Uraraka’s stress ball, placed firmly in her hand.

“Oh! ___ gave it to me! It’s a stress ball…” Several of her teammates perk up in interest- Momo only sighing as she could tell that they weren’t going to work on the project for a bit.

“You went to see them? How was it?” Jirou asks.

Uraraka flushes. “It was… really nice, actually. I was able to just talk for a while and have someone listen and not judge me for it. And ___ is really nice, too.”

“Really? I’m glad you liked it…”

From a few desks away, Aizawa sits in his desk chair as he watches the students do their work. His ears perk up when he hears Uraraka talking about you, and his eyes drift down to the stress ball in Uraraka’s hand.

How about that? Aizawa sighs, peeved that his students aren’t paying attention but glad that they’re finally getting help. He knows you’ve been sitting alone in your office for a while now- it’s good that someone finally went. They could all use it.

Eventually, he has to get up and scold his students to get back to work, but he makes sure to pat Uraraka on the back as he walks off back to his desk.

——

The next student to visit you was Yaoyorozu, then Asui (who insisted you called her Tsuyu, and you did your best to remember), and a few girls from class B. You’re not at all surprised that the girls were the first to come over to your office, but it made you wonder who your first male student would be. Teenage boys seem to be very headstrong, especially in this school, so it will probably be a while until one of them admits to wanting a little counseling. You’ll just have to wait, like usual.

Today you don’t mind waiting. Getting out of bed was a bit harder than usual, your feet dragging wherever you went. You know that you should probably eat to get some energy, the only problem with that was… you didn’t have any energy. You’re alone in your office, basically lying down on your desk when you suddenly remember an image you saw once. Apparently, a radish gives you enough energy to walk 28 feet- but the next radish was just one more foot away and a skeleton lied on the grown trying to reach it. You were that skeleton today. So close… but no cigar (or, in this case, radish). Silently you laugh to yourself about how ridiculous your head was being.

“What’s so funny?”

Uh-oh. You snap your head up from your desk to see Aizawa standing in the doorway. “Oh, hey-” your sentence breaks as you yawn uncontrollably, your body slowly sagging back on your desk. “...Hey Aizawa.”

“Not all of us have access to a couch, you know. If you’re that tired you should use it.”

“Mm… can’t. Then I’ll really fall asleep,” you chuckle and you force yourself to sit up, stretching your limbs out as far as you can. “I should get my work done.”

Aizawa just hums, entering the office and leaving the door open behind him as he lounges over to your couch. You watch him fall against it with a chuckle. “What?” He eyes you as he shimmies to get comfortable. “You’re not using it.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. It’s all yours.”

A silence falls in the office then, but you don’t mind it. You get to work as Aizawa lounges, trying to be as quiet as you can while you fill out papers and put them in their respective files. Every now and then you let yourself peek at him, but he never moves. A part of you wonders why he suddenly decided to hang out with you- but it might just be because of your couch. Which is reasonable.

Another yawn escapes you before you can stop it, making your eyes tear up.

“Can’t be Plus Ultra if you come to work like this,” Aizawa murmurs and you roll your eyes before rubbing them free of tears.

“You’re one to talk, sleeping bag. My body just isn’t used to working so much, but it’ll adjust eventually.”

“Are the students keeping you busy?”

You laugh. “No, not really. They’re coming around, which is nice, but I still have my old job. Because of my school hours I either have to work in the evening or weekends.” The files you were sorting through were actually from your other job- just recently you had started researching Gender Studies for one of your patients that was questioning their identity, and needless to say, it took a lot of work.

Aizawa finally sits up from his spot, still lounging on the couch but more upright as he leans against the armrest. “I didn’t realize you kept your other job.”

“Well, you still have your hero job, don’t you?” You smile up at him. “It’s the same thing. I worked hard to get where I am with my patients, I can’t abandon them now.” The hero hums in response, a thoughtful look crossing his face before he stands up. He groans as he stretches.

“Have you eaten?” The random question throws you off a little as you stare up at him from your desk.

“Uh… not really.”

“Let’s go. Teachers get free lunches from Lunch Rush.”

“Oh- well-”

“I’m leaving.”

“But the radish…”

“What?”

Your face flushes red as you realize what you just said and you quickly stand up from your seat, fumbling for your bag and wallet. “I said, ‘coming’!!”

You could definitely use the food.

---

It’s been another week at U.A, except the atmosphere is a little different than before. You heard from Yamada that exams for hero licenses just passed, so the students were buzzing from that energy. You assumed all of them had passed since you didn’t hear any different until the day that Todoroki came knocking on your door.

He was rather blunt in his behavior, you could tell from how he entered your office and immediately sat down on one of the chairs that he knew what he was here for and he had a goal in mind. Which was good in its own way… but you have a feeling that this session is mostly going to be about getting him to relax.

You start off small. “Where would you like me to sit, Todoroki?”

He hums. “I don’t mind.”

“Can I sit next to you?” You approach the chair next to him and you can see how he tenses- something you don’t think he’s aware of. Instead, you move to the couch across from him, putting a reasonable space between you. “That’s fine, I rather like this couch. Are you comfortable?”

He’s silent.

“You can be honest, Todoroki. It’s okay if you aren’t.”

He’s still quiet. There’s a sigh building up within you but you press it down, not wanting to offend him in any way. Your mind is already coming up with ideas- one of them has you lighten up as you stand and move to your bookcase. “I have something I think you’d like. Would you help me?” Todoroki doesn’t stand but his eyes follow you as he silently nods. You smile back at him and take out an unopened box from the shelf, bringing it to the coffee table. On top of the box is a cup and you hand it to him.

“While I open this, I’d like you to put ice in that cup. Is that okay?”

The student seems baffled but he does as he’s told, putting shards of ice in the cup until it’s half full. “Great! Hey, have you ever tried making shapes with your ice?”

Again, he’s baffled, but he finally answers. “Not really.”

“Well, that might be something you can look into. It might be fun- with a quirk like yours, I think it’s nice you can experiment with it. That’s just me, though,” you break open the cardboard and slide out the plastic inside. “Alright, now if you would be okay with it, I’d like you to turn that ice into water.”

You’re inadvertently asking him to use his fire quirk, which you know based on the information you got on each student is a sensitive spot for him. But he doesn’t look offended, just curious, as he wordlessly puts the cup in his left hand to warm up the ice. “Why?”

“Because this is one of my favorite activities, but it requires some water.” You pull out the hunk of grey clay before looking at your coffee table. “Actually, could you hold this?”

You quickly hand it to him before rushing to your desk and pulling out some paper towels in one of the drawers. “I’ll have to clean up anyway, but this will help with the mess.” You place the towels on the table before sitting back down, asking for the clay back which Todoroki hands to you. You put it on top of the towels before breaking it in half, placing one part in front of you both and then grabbing the water. “Have you ever used clay?”

“I haven’t,” he picks up his piece curiously. He puts it back down once he sees you roll up your sleeves and does the same thing- removing his uniform coat once it gets in the way.

“So, we both put some of the water on the clay. Then it becomes slimy but moldable. With the clay, we can make shapes. I have some other tools we can use to make details, but we’ll start like this.” Todoroki watches you as you pour half the water he made onto your clay. It molds and squishes in your hands.

“...It’s messy.”

You laugh, “it is! But it’s a nice activity to focus on. Will you try?” You begin to pick apart your clay and make various shapes.

“What are you making?” His hands are on the clay, but he hasn’t moved for the water yet.

“Just a flower. Kind of like a daisy, since it’s easy. I made the middle, for the head where the pollen is,” you place a single petal on the circle and use the water to mold it in place. “And now I’m making the petals.”

Todoroki hums, still watching you before finally he moves and gets to work. He seems to have an idea already, his hands moving with purpose. It’s successfully gotten his mind off of whatever was bothering him, you can tell by how his shoulders relax and his eyes soften. The rest of the time spent sculpting is spent in relative silence, until you can’t help but ask, “what are you making?”

“A rose.” He says. Suddenly all the shapes he had made make sense and you go ‘ooh’ under your breath. You continue to watch him as your comical daisy is already finished.

“I should buy more colors,” you murmur as you watch him. Todoroki has started to put all the petals together now in a circular pattern, much like a rose. It’s a slow, delicate process, but you think he likes it.

“I like gray.”

“Oh,” you perk up and smile. “That’s good, then.”

Once the rose is nearly put together, Todoroki finally speaks about what was bothering him. He’s not looking at you- all of his attention is on the clay, but he still talks, slow and even. “...I didn’t pass my license exam.”

Ah.

“Neither did Bakugo.”

Oh, boy. You wonder how Bakugo is taking it… Todoroki was clearly affected enough to come to you, and you bet Bakugo is the same, but you doubt he’d ever willingly come through your doors. You just hope Aizawa has a handle on it.

“I see. What did you learn?”

Todoroki finally takes his eyes off the flower, meeting your gaze with a hum. You smile and begin to clarify for him. “You didn’t get your hero license. But you still went to the exam, you learned what it’s like there. Did you learn anything about yourself in the process, or what being a hero is like?”

“Oh.” His flower is finally finished- it’s rather beautiful, and very neat, especially for someone who’s never used clay before. He sets it carefully on the table. “I learned that I’m different. I was a lot colder at the beginning of the year.”

“What made you realize that?”

“There was a boy… he hated me.” Todoroki’s face shifts into discomfort, clearly affected by the boy’s feelings for him. “I don’t blame him. I think he’s okay with me now, but…”

“Do you regret something?” You can read it all over him. He nods, his hands moving to his lap before he hesitates- they’re sticky with clay. “Oh!” You grab a spare paper towel and dip it in the water that remains in the cup- which isn’t a lot, but it makes the towel damp as you hand it to him. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. It was fun.” He softly cleans his hands before unraveling his sleeves and putting them back down his arms. Then he grabs the cup again, once again filling it with ice and then melting it before he hands it to you. “...So you can clean your hands.”

“Thank you, Todoroki,” you smile gratefully and get your own paper towel, wiping yourself off. “Your quirk is very useful in a lot of different ways.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” he murmurs and you smile at him again. It’s then that the school bell rings over the speakers and you look up, surprised.

“Oh! I guess the next class is starting.” And you were right in the middle of getting him to open up, too… “Would you like to stay or go to class?”

“I should get going,” Todoroki says with a shake of his head as he stands, putting his uniform coat back on and buttoning it up. You suppose that’s fair- Todoroki doesn’t seem like the type who wants to miss class, especially now that he’s behind in his exam. He heads right for the door but you quickly stand up, trying to stop him.

“Todoroki!” You walk over to him- he’s still a child, but he’s almost your height, which is a little upsetting for you. “Listen, I’m very glad you came to talk to me today. Don’t be afraid to come back, alright? And if you do,” you point over to your desk, “I’ll have your clay baked and maybe we can paint it.”

He eyes the flower that he made- and surprisingly- he smiles. “I’d like that.” He tells you, honesty in his voice and you grin.

“I’ll see you then. Have a good day, Todoroki.”

“...You too.”

---

The successful session with Todoroki has you buzzing with energy. This was good- great progress. If things keep going like this, you could successfully decipher what U.A needed and hire even more therapists for the entire school. If you could get these kids to open up, relieve their worries and help fix their problems, you could die happy knowing you made a difference.

You rush into the Teacher’s Lounge after school, a pep in your step as you hold a small box in your hands. Inside is yours and Todoroki’s flowers. There are only a few people in the lounge- Yagi, Aizawa, and Yamada. Thankfully they’re all in the same corner so you rush over with a ‘hey!’

“Hey hey! What’s got you so pepped up?” Yamada grins, his voice is as loud as ever. You smile back.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” Yamada deflates and you laugh. “But I was wondering if any of you have an oven? My apartment doesn’t have one and I need to bake this clay.”

Yagi looks at your little box. “Clay?” He scratches his chin, frowning. “I don’t have one, unfortunately.”

“None of the teacher’s rooms have one, either…”

“You can use mine,” Aizawa finally speaks up, tearing his eyes away from the computer he’s typing on. “When do you need to use it?”

You think for a minute- you have no idea when Todoroki will come back, and you promised that it would be done when he does… You may have made a flighty promise. “Uhm… As soon as possible? Whenever you’ll let me, honestly.”

The hero sighs, closing his eyes as he scoots his chair back before standing up and popping his back. “Let’s go then.”

Aizawa’s neverending deadpan behavior never ceases to amuse and surprise you.

“Right now?”

He’s already headed for the door, not saying anything else and you take that as your cue to follow. Quickly waving goodbye to Yamada and Yagi, you dash over to Aizawa, who’s already walking toward the doors. “Would it kill you to wait up?”

“Yes.”

For a nice guy, he really seemed to like keeping you on your toes.

---

Aizawa’s apartment is simplistic and minimalistic- you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but you’re not surprised. You bow as you walk in, toeing off your shoes at the door. Aizawa removes his capture weapon- which you hadn’t seen him without before- and then he walks down the small hallway and disappears when he turns to the left.

As you’re left alone in the hallway, you suddenly realize how personal it is to be in his home. You still don’t know a lot about your co-workers- you feel a little guilty to barge in like this.

When you follow Aizawa’s path, you find him in his kitchen. It’s tile floors are a clean white color, the walls the same. He’s bent over the oven, reaching into its bottom drawer before pulling out a cookie sheet and setting it on top of a counter. “Is this good?” He looks over to you, his hair in his face as he’s still crouched and you nod.

“Yeah, it’s great! Thank you a lot for this.”

Aizawa just hums, backing out of the kitchen. “Feel free to use it however you want- I’m getting out of these clothes.” He disappears right after that, leaving you alone in his kitchen.

You place the box on the counter next to the cookie sheet and roll up your sleeves. Okay, time to get to work. You haven’t baked clay in a while, but you think you remember how to do it. The first thing that needs to happen is to preheat the oven and you do so- you notice that the thing looks sort of high tech, so it shouldn’t take long.

...What do you do now?

You hear padding footsteps from behind you, and when you turn around- wow. Just wow.

You burst out laughing before you can stop it and you slap a hand over your mouth. “Shut up,” Aizawa sneers, “I don’t have a lot of clothes left here since we moved to the dorms.”

“It looks good!” Your laughter doesn’t really help with that statement, but it’s true! The pink sweatpants that he wears really give him a cuter look than usual. Your burst of laughter is thankfully gone now- thank god- and you calm down with a few more giggles. “Where did you get those?”

Aizawa rolls his eyes. It’s only now that you notice that he’s tied his hair up, making his expressions a lot more animated now that you can see his entire face. “Kayama.”

“Of course,” you grin. The oven behind you beeps, startling you for a second before you realize that it’s telling you it’s done pre-heating. “I’m envious of your place. It’s really nice here.” Aizawa walks up to your side, peeking at the clay you made before you pop it in the oven.

“I miss it. It’s better than the dorms.” He sinks to his knees as he looks in the oven again and you shoo him away with your foot.

“No looking! This is therapy work in the making!”

“Did you make the daisy?”

“...I can’t tell you that.”

“It looks awful.”

“BUH- Hey!”

Aizawa grins- a Cheshire cat grin- as he rises to his feet again before walking off to the living room. You realize he just tricked you into telling him that the daisy is, in fact, your project and you huff. “That was a dirty trick.”

“Yeah, well.” He flicks on his television, affectively showing that he doesn’t care, before taking a seat on his couch with a sigh. “How long does it take?”

You hum, the irritation quickly fading away. “I’ll have to check on it in 15 minutes, and after that, it’ll either be done or need a bit longer. Thank you again for letting me into your home.”

“Thank you for taking care of my students,” he says bluntly, catching you off guard yet again. His eyes are watching whatever news channel popped on but he spares you a glance. It lasts a single second before he looks back at the television. “They’re definitely doing better. I’m glad Todoroki came to you.”

“How do you know that?” You would have thought he’d keep something like that quiet.

“After he failed his exam, I told him to come to you,” Aizawa says. “I’m still working on Bakugo.”

“I figured... He told me about the exam, so I can only imagine how Bakugo is handling it. I want to talk to him more than anyone else, honestly, but it’s going to be difficult.”

You finally decide that talking from across rooms is silly, so you move into the living room with Aizawa and take a seat on the other end of the couch. “Why Bakugo?” He asks and you snort, leaning on the armrest.

“You’re his teacher, I’m sure you know. He’s been kidnapped, of all things! His behavior is loud and defensive- he’s always angry. Anger is a secondary emotion, you know. There’s always something that triggers it.”

Aizawa hums, his fingers tapping on his thigh. It catches your attention for a split second before you realize you’re looking at his thighs and you quickly look away. “If you’re going to try to help Bakugo, you’re going to need to talk to Midoriya first. They’re basically rivals.”

“Oh, really?”

Aizawa laughs. “Oh, yeah.”

You deflate a little bit and groan. “Maybe I should come to the classes again and observe or something. I still don’t know a lot about them.” You would have never guessed Midoriya would have a rival.

“It’s not a bad idea. We can schedule something soon.”

The oven dings again- has it really been 15 minutes? You scramble up from your seat and check on the clay from the glass- they look perfect. “Where’s your uh, your,” oh, you’ve forgotten the word, “Your.... claw hands?”

“My oven mitts?” Even from across the room, you can see how his eyebrows shoot up as he snorts. “In the drawer next to you, on the right.”

“Right,” you hiss through your teeth in embarrassment, your cheeks overwhelmingly warm as you grab the oven mitts and take the cookie sheet out of the oven. Thankfully, none of the clay has cracked, which is perfect.

“A rose?” Aizawa’s voice comes up from right behind you and you jump in surprise, almost hitting him in the jaw as you do.

“Fucking- Christ! What are you, a ninja?!” You place a hand over your heart as you stare up at him. He’s laughing at you again- which is honestly a really handsome laugh, but you don’t care because you’re kind of pissed.

“It’s my job to be quiet.”

“Yeah- well!” You guess that makes sense. Not having anything else to say, you turn back towards the clay. You didn’t hit it, thank god. “And no, you may not ask why Todoroki made a rose.”

“Do you even know why he made a rose?”

“Shut the fuck up, buddy.”

You didn’t.

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inkwell-attitude · 4 years

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Liebster Award

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Etta explained the award as “similar to a writeblr tag game meant to introduce you to new blogs and get to know the authors behind them!” She was the one who brought it to tumblr, since it originated in blogs/writer’s websites.

Rules: 1. Thank the blogger that nominated you 2. Answer the 11 questions the blogger asked you 3. Nominate 11 bloggers 4. Ask your nominees 11 questions 5. Notify your 11 nominees

Questions: 1. What’s your favourite part about the writing community?

I love the support everyone always gives to everyone else! Everyone I’ve seen has given nothing but support and enthusiasm for both their writing and others writing, and it really makes me happy to see such a wonderful community.

2. Do you prefer writing dialogue or description, and why?

I prefer description because I love the whimsy I can add to it. Being able to concoct a scene and describe things in ways other than “the sky was blue, the grass was green” is lots of fun. I’m also kind of bad at conversations irl (between my ADD and my minor stutter, I don’t tend to finish a lot of sentences lol) and I think that rolls over into my writing a little bit and makes dialogue a bit harder for me to figure out.

3. Do you have any creative hobbies outside of writing, and how did you get into them?

I am a self-proclaimed proud jack of all trades because I see a craft or activity and MUST try it out. My brain sees a tactile hobby and goes feral. I just really enjoy learning new things :D The recurring hobbies are drawing and very minor animations, but I also have been into embroidery, polymer clay, woodworking (miniatures eeeyyy) and cake decorating?

4. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?

Two nights ago? I usually get 7.5-8.5 hours of sleep because I just can’t function without sleep. Idk if you can call it a good nights sleep because I tend to wake up several times during the night (how many times is too many?) but I don’t usually have trouble falling asleep.

5. Are you reading/watching/listening to anything right now that you’re excited about?

I’m watching Ann with an E with my mom right now and it’s delightful! it’s a very very lovely show and it’s made me want to re-read the book.

I’m also keeping up with the Dream SMP minecraft series, and lemme tell you I have not been this emotionally invested in a story for a LONG time. Sure, I’ve been excited about some things in the last few months, but I don’t think I’ve really been attached to a story and characters like this for a while. (Plus, every single fanart and fan animation I’ve seen has been tremendously well done and more often than not gets me emotional lmao)

6. What’s your favourite YouTube channel?

I don’t know if I have a favourite? Because I hop around between interests so often I tend to change up my subscriptions a lot, too. Currently, I really like Cheyenne Barton, Technoblade, GeminiTay, and Annika’s leaf

7. What writing advice would you give your younger self?

DO WRITING SPRINTS! This is one of my favourite things now and it’s helped break the habit of “write one sentence, edit it, write another sentence, edit it, delete the first and re-write it” habit. Plus, it’s just a really good exercise to stretch your creativity.

8. What’s your opinion on color coding?

top notch! I think sometimes it can be overdone (throwback to jr. high me color coding everything in my notes to the extent that it was detrimental to my studying) but it really helps me out with things. I color-code vocab words and important persons in my class notes now :D

9. Is there a specific theme or aesthetic that underlies all your stories?

If there is, I haven’t seen it. I think it’s funny that Odds & Ends and The Paths That Bind are actually kind of similar (so far) except one is lighthearted feel-good comedy, and one is corruption and angst and trauma :’) Maybe there will be similar themes, but they’re both in the beginning stages so it hasn’t shown up yet.

10. How many WIPs do you have?

I actually only have two WIPs! I have a few other concepts I’d like to explore in the future, but they’re currently sitting as one-sentence explanations in my notes folder and will probably stay that way until I figure out a more solid plan for Odds & Ends and The Paths That Bind. My irl schedule is very hectic and I’m an inherently tired person, so I’m trying to be more intentional with creative projects and realistic on which ones I want to be able to dedicate my time to.

11. What’s your wildest dream as a creator? (For example, do you want to see fanart of your ocs, have a movie made of your book, etc.)

I adore the idea of someone making an animatic or one of those lyric comic things (idk what they’re called) for The Paths That Bind. So much of it is inspired by music and I’d love to see other people’s takes on the history and events of the story and which songs they would associate with it.

Questions for my wonderful nominees!

1. What’s the earliest story you remember writing? How old were you? 2. Are any of your characters “comfort characters” for yourself? 3. What’s your go-to snack? 4. How do you visualize your wips? Movie-format? Animatic? Comic? 5. What’s your favorite part of each season? 6. Would you rather one (or all) of your wips be made into a movie/tv show or a graphic novel series? 7. Is there a particular form of imagery or symbolism that recurs a lot in your stories? 8. What’s a book (or book series) that you absolutely adore and wish everyone would read? 9. Tell us about your favorite video game and why you love it! (If you don’t game, tell us about another hobby you adore!) 10. What’s the last dream you remember having? 11. How has your writing changed from when you first started? (We all get better, but have you noticed any distinct changes? More/less dialogue, different kind of descriptions, different narrative styles?)

Here are 11 wonderful, talented writers I’ve met here, and everyone should absolutely check out their blogs!

@aelenko

@uraniumwriting

@hueynomure

@writingamongthecoloredroses

@musings-and-writings

@stardustspiral

@druidx73

@eurydice-is-gone

@atomic-insomnia

@chloeswords

@hannahs-creations

#tbh i was a little hesitant to do this #because i'm so inactive on here and i haven't written in a while #but it's about positivity! not productivity!#even if i'm not consistently active on my wips #i still consider them active projects #and i AM going to keep writing them at whatever pace suits me #also everyone should absolutely check out the folks tagged above #they're all insanely talented #tag games #liebster award

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rimalupin · 4 years

Text

Drunk!Arthur x MC: “I Like You”

(A/N: Okay I love ~soft and adorable~ Arthur, and this scenario of him drunk-confessing his love for someone has been playing through my head for a while now, so I decided to just go ahead and write it lol. Enjoy a cute love-drunk ((and literally drunk)) Arthur~.)

(Warnings: Mentions of alcohol & tobacco, but other than that, this story is frikin FLUFFY man, LOL.)

-----

Past Midnight, le Comte's mansion

I yawned as I finished reading the last sentence of the page. Arthur had asked me to read through a manuscript of his newest Sherlock Holmes story. Since I had the day off, I decided to head to the library and read away.

~~~

To be honest, I was surprised that he asked me of all people to proofread his story. Sebastian would've been more qualified for this, especially since he knew more about Holmes's stories - as well as the author behind them - compared to me. When I asked Arthur about why he chose me to read the manuscript, he simply shrugged and stated, "I thought you'd enjoy the story since Holmes is so popular in your time."

"Well, he is. But I really don't know much about the books themselves." I bowed my head a little, slightly embarrassed to be admitting this in front of the author himself. "I have yet to read them."

"Well then, now's a good time to start." He plopped the manuscript into my hands and winked. "Get to it, my dear assistant."

Even though I didn't think I was the most qualified for this job, I was happy to help him out. Ever since I came to the mansion, Arthur has always been there for me. Granted, our first few interactions weren't the best (try getting cornered by a flirty, potentially blood-thirsty vampire inside a mysterious mansion during your first night in nineteenth-century France), but after a few days of getting to know each other (a suggestion made by le Comte and Sebastian which I was hesitant to take at first), I realized that he wasn't a bad guy. In fact, he was really fun to be around: he was always ready with a game or a conversation topic to keep the mood entertaining. And minus the frequent flirting, he's really grown on me. I guess something just clicked for the two of us. So of course I'd want to help my newest vampire bestie with his project.

Along with that, I know how hard he works on his stories. Recently, there have been more late nights of him scribbling on sheets of paper under a dim lamplight. Whenever I'd seen the light on in his room during those late hours, I'd bring him some coffee and fudge before bidding him a good night.

~~~

After finishing the story, I decided to stop by Arthur's room to drop off the manuscript. I'm about to knock on the door when I hear someone from inside the room. "Theoooooo I wanna see herrrrr."

"In this state you're in? Absolutely not," Theo replies, a stern edge to his voice.

"Theo it'll be fiiiiine. C'mon!"

I wonder if they’re alright. Curious, I knock and call after them. “Arthur? Theo? Can I come in?”

“Let yourself in, Hondje. And help me take care of this idiot.”

“Now, Theo, it’s not nice to call people names," Arthur says in a sing-song voice. "Be nicer to the little bird before you scare her away~.”

I hear Theo let out an annoyed grunt - I can almost feel his irritation radiating through the door. “_____ GET IN HERE NOW.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” I open the door to find Arthur hugging a very grumpy Theo on the bed. I stifle a giggle. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes, and for once, I’m thanking you for doing so.” Theo pries Arthur off of him and stands up to walk towards me. “Look, I could use some help with taking care of him.” He nods his head towards Arthur, who stands and staggers towards Theo.

"Oh, c'mon now, Theo," he responds as he attempts to place a hand on Theo’s shoulder, only to miss and swing at the air. "You don't have to be my mummy: I can take care of myself, you hear." His words slur, and he sways back and forth, his body threatening to give in to gravity and fall to the floor.

I drop the manuscript and rush to Arthur's side. "Arthur, be careful!" I place my hands on his shoulder and back, and Theo follows my lead to help gently guide him back to the bed.

As if finally realizing I was in the room, Arthur blinks up at me with surprise. "_____..?" His breath and clothes smell of alcohol and tobacco - I can tell that he and Theo were at the bar earlier. It was a usual occasion for them to go out for evening drinking sessions, but they never came back as drunk as Arthur was now.

"How much did you drink?" I ask.

Arthur gazes at me, dazed. "Mmm, can't remember..."

"Liar," Theo scoffs. "He knows damn well what his limit is, and yet he's dumb enough to do this."

I watch Arthur lay his arm over his head, covering his eyes. "He doesn't look too good... I'll go get him some water." I stand up, but then stop in my tracks when I feel Arthur gently tug on my sleeve. "_____, wait..."

"Arthur, I'll be right back."

"Noooo, stay here." I raise an eyebrow at Arthur, who is now looking up at me with big, pleading eyes. "Pleaaaase?"

Theo rolls his eyes. "He hasn't been shutting up about wanting to see you all day."

My eyebrows raise in surprise. "What..?"

"I'll get the water. Call me if you need anything else." I'm about to ask him what he meant, but the door had already shut.

I sigh and turn to face Arthur. "Do you need anything else right now?" I ask him.

He gives me a little smirk. "You beside me."

I roll my eyes at him, but I realize that he's serious about his request when he scoots a little to make more room for me. I sigh and sit back down on Arthur's bed. "Better?"

"Getting there." Before I could protest, he moves closer to me and lays his head on my lap.

"Arthur, what..?" I begin.

"_____...." He looks up at me with a sad smile.

I furrow my brow. "What's on your mind?"

"You."

Was he really drunk-flirting with me right now? "Arthur, be serious."

"I am." His eyes meet mine, and he’s looking at me for what feels like forever.

Feeling self-conscious, I start to look away when a hand gently touches my cheek. "MC..." He guides me back to look at him: his gaze is earnest, and his blue eyes pierce into my soul as he says, "I like you."

I blink in disbelief. I don’t know how to respond. All that comes out is a confused "What..?"

He repeats himself: "I like you." There's a beat of silence before he quietly adds, "But not as a friend..." I shake my head. Surely, he isn't thinking straight: it's the alcohol talking. But he wouldn't have said that if there wasn't a little truth to it, right..?

Despite his inebriated state, he reads my thoughts clearly. "_____, please don't doubt my feelings for you: I really do like you." He tilts his head as he examines me. "But I wonder how you feel about me."

I raise an eyebrow. "That's a funny thing to hear from someone who guesses nearly everything correctly."

"See, that's the thing," he says as he lays his head onto his pillow. He gently pulls me down to lay beside him and I oblige, wanting to hear him out. "I could simply deduce your feelings for me and eventually conclude that you like me. But you know, it’s surprisingly difficult to gather evidence for that, even though we spend so much time together..." He plays with a lock of my hair as he continues. “I wouldn’t want to scare you off by drawing the wrong conclusion, so I want to be sure…”

He trails off, and he’s quiet for a while, still twirling my hair with his fingers. "You want to be sure of what..?" I ask.

“That you feel the same way I do..." He moves closer until his forehead gently presses against mine. He wraps an arm around me and gazes at me earnestly. "But I don’t want to know based on my assumptions or deductions. Your feelings are yours alone, so I want to hear the answer come from your lips. That's how I'll know..." he trails off, and his eyes start to close.

It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep. I watch him and listen to his even breathing, which soon turns into light snores as he dreams with a peaceful look on his face.

I don't want to wake him: he needs the rest. With that, I'm pretty much trapped in his arms for the rest of the night. Sighing, I carefully move to pull the sheets over us, snugly tucking us both in.

He won’t hear me since he’s asleep, but I whisper to him anyway: "I'll give you my answer in the morning." I gently brush a stray hair away from his forehead, and my fingertips briefly linger on his temple before pulling away. "Goodnight, Arthur," I say as I drift off to sleep, pushing away my worries of what will happen in the morning by focusing on the warmth of his body, the way he held me in his arms, and the sound of his breathing.

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black-streak · 5 years

Text

Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - Routine

Part 3

Hey! I came up with a name for this finally! Might've been listening to Elton John at the time.... Completely self induglent fluff for part 3. Also changed the part title for timinette thing to 'the beginning'. Very original, I know. So I've decided to not have anyone aware of identities here. And Mari also does not use the ladybug in this.

Lastly, from what I gather, Tim canonically seems to swing between sharp, calculating and carefully selective with words aaand a complete disaster child with severe anxiety, weird obsessions, and no filter. So if anyone has any notes on my characterization of him, I'd be happy to hear it.

...Please don't get use to this rapid update schedule, I have no control on the speed in which I write these.

~---~

Marinette meant to make good on her request for a movie with Tim. She really did. She was not some shy little teenager anymore and if she wanted to have a date with the guy she liked, no one could stop her from trying!

Except maybe a spike in her commissions, an Arkham breakout, and three narrowly avoided confrontations with multiple of the bat… people. So maybe she was exhausted and overworked and it had been over two weeks since the morning she woke up on Tim. Maybe at this point she couldn't even concentrate on the date portion and just wanted to skip right into the napping together bit. But who could really blame her? Life is cruel to the sleepless. So perhaps the way they actually ended up dating could be forgiven.

It started on a gloomy Sunday afternoon that Mari found him at a desk in the manor library, pouring over what looked like a criminal case? In a manilla folder? What? Who even uses manilla outside of a filing cabinet anymore? And for what purpose did he need to read it so intently?

Shaking the confusion off, she refocused on her current mission. Tricking him into taking a nap.

Pushing down a blush, she tapped him on the shoulder.

Startling, he turned partially to look up to her while closing the file, not expecting the interruption.

"Oh, hey! Did um… did you need something?"

Taking in the dark bags building under his eyes, two empty cups on the desk, and overly comfy clothes, she realized this might be easier than she originally planned for. He looked perfectly nap ready and as over worked as she was.

Nodding, Marinette took hold of his hoodie sleeve and gave a small tug.

Tim turned further to face her fully, watching for only a moment before seemingly coming to some conclusion.

"Whatever it is will have to wait. You need sleep."

Only she didn't argue, simply nodding again and tugging at his sleeve again, pleading eyes latching onto his.

"Nap?"

Understanding dawned on Tim and lit a small smile across his face as he moved his attention back to the desk, closing up all his work and compiling it to transport.

"Let me gather this up."

A happy sound of approval sounded behind him before lean arms wrapped around his shoulders, a face ducking close to his neck, quietly resting in wait.

Not entirely surprised with the contact, Tim took it in stride, though his mind was whirling with possible causes, attempting to determine whether this was a show of further affection or simply the way she interacted with those she deemed close to her. He'd seen the way Mari leaned into Jason when he ruffled her hair or tossed an arm about her shoulders. The happy cheek kiss she graced Dick in thanks for helping with one thing or another. The way Damian allowed her to pull him around by the hand all the time. Maybe she decided on sleepy cuddles for him? But then, it had sounded like flirting and an offer for more last time. Had he read too much into it or was this the offer come to fruition at last?

Speaking of which, as he grabbed the last file, she slid one hand over and down his arm to grab at a hoodie sleeve to tug once more, simultaneously shifting away so he could get up.

In a fashion similar to two weeks ago, he paid little mind to her dragging him about until he noticed her aiming for the door, quickly twisting a hand to grab her wrist and redirect them towards the couch in the room. 'Whatever this is, there's no need to advertise it for my brother's to see.'

Meanwhile, Marinette was trying to figure out the best way to get Tim to put his work aside and just cuddle her. Obviously he seemed to be following along now, but if the way he brought over the case file was any indication, he planned to continue working while she slept beside him.

'Hmm… he followed suit last time, maybe it'll work again this time,' she thought, smile regaining momentum on her face when she saw the library couch went much deeper than the living room one.

He must have read her mind, because he immediately sat sideways, upper back pressed into the arm of the couch, still holding onto her wrist to guide her towards him.

Climbing over, she sandwiched herself between his body and the couch, leaning into his shoulder. He hesitated slightly, then adjusted his left arm behind her and reopened the case in his lap.

"What's with that anyways? Not your usual work there," she murmured.

"Old cold case. Hobby of mine to try and solve them. Or at least find details that were missed in the initial investigation," he intoned smoothly, use to the line of questioning.

"Hmm," she adjusted her legs to lay across his lap, reaching to prop the folder on them as a makeshift desk, "tell me about it?"

"The details are pretty grim, you sure?"

"Mhm, I don't mind. It's like rubber duck coding, right? Maybe if you explain it out loud to someone the missing pieces will pop into place."

And that's how Tim found himself explaining the intricate pattern of a series of connected murders to Marinette, who took the horrific descriptions in stride, sometimes throwing in theories for him to pick apart as he went. Even if it didn't look it with her closed eyes and relaxed disposition, she was obviously actively listening and paying attention to his rapid fire rambling which in turn encouraged him to continue despite his initial hesitance.

Stopping mid sentence, he yanked the file closer with his free hand, the other wrapped around her waist, studying it intently for a moment.

Letting out a frustrated breath, he murmured in a way indicating her almost forgotten presence, "Really? That's it?" And proceeded to move both arms to hold the pages steady, incidentally shifting Mari fully up onto his chest to accommodate the movement as he wrote across the page, connecting the dots to give a final full picture. Closing the folder up and moving it to the side table, Tim rewrapped his arms around her waist, taking smug satisfaction at successfully transferring her fully into his lap without it seeming to be on purpose.

"You make a good duck."

"Told you it would work, Drake."

"You sound like my brother."

"Hmm, don't call me a duck and I won't call you a drake."

"You're the one who brought up being my metaphorical rubber duck. You only have yourself to blame."

"And your the one who's last name literally means 'male duck', Drake," she deadpanned back to him.

Narrowing his eyes, Tim stared her down. However, Marinette was not one to back down to a challenge and only quipped, "So, still going to call me a duck?"

"I'll concede this round, but you're not cuddling back up to me until you find something else to call me. I'm not trying to hold my brother's clone here."

"Oh? But you are trying to hold your little brother's best friend?" She teased, turning a little pink and marveled at his own flushing face.

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who came in seeking My attention."

Giggling, she squirmed so that one leg was curled over his, torso shifted to in between his side and the couch once more, and tucked into his neck for the second time that day, smile pressing into his skin.

"Not denying it, Mon Cher."

Not expecting agreement nor the endearment, Tim gave a hum in response, not wanting to let on how flustered he felt. Lifting a hand, he hovered it over her head, not sure it'd be welcome, but holding a sigh of relief when she pressed up towards it, as though sensing its proximity and craving the affection it seemed to promise. Which is how he found himself nuzzling the side of her head, hand running down her hair in a soothing pet, listening to the almost purr that reverberated from her into his skin.

"You cut off earlier. How did the case end?" She spoke, lifting only enough to speak, but close enough that her lips still brushed his neck with every word before lowering back in.

And so Tim told her, giving her the answer before going back and explaining the connection and then finally the less notable details as he sensed her slowly falling into a light slumber listening to the low timber of his voice warm in her ear.

With a small smile, soft and unsure, he settled further against her, pulling her tighter just a moment before allowing himself to drift as well.

…..

Every few days, Mari would seek him out. The same tired, pleading look. The same gentle tugs and soft embraces. Helping him finish whatever he was working on before falling asleep curled up to him, humming with his hands in her hair and warm breath fanning across her skin. Sometimes the side of her head, other times murmuring random details into her ear, and on one notable occasion, down the side of her neck.

Sometimes they wouldn't sleep, just pass jokes and obscure references or talk about her latest project, finding rest and solace in one another without the need for immediate sleep.

And then finally, finally, one of them took a step forward.

… maybe not the way either of them planned. They'd been running this routine for three weeks straight but now.. It'd been 4 days and Mari had yet to come find him. This did not sit well with Tim, who counted on her to enforce something along the lines of regular sleep for him. Even if it was only in the form of long afternoon naps every couple days. Needless to say, he was grumpy, over caffeinated, and not entirely in his right mind when he sought her out.

Tim found her eventually, probably in Damian's room based on the bed and katana above the headboard. He hadn't paid attention enough on his mindless search to be 100% sure. Either way, she was there and that's what mattered. Taking a page out of her book, Tim walked over, took ahold of her wrist and tugged her up and towards the door, grip loose enough to slip out if she so desired, only to be stopped by large hand gripping his own wrist.

That's when Tim decided to actually take in the room fully, surprised to see Damian standing there, scowling with a raised eyebrow, not appreciating the abrupt interruption or kidnapping attempt.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"It's naptime," Tim stated, blinking back with a blank, unfazed expression.

Taken off guard, Damian stared at him, speechless, hand falling back to his side. Tim decided to take advantage of this and made way for the door once more, only to be blocked off once more, tired anxiety and frustration building by the moment.

"That doesn't explain you bursting in here and kidnapping my Angel." Damian stated, arms crossing in defiance, more annoyed at the lack of permission to enter his room than the way Tim sought her out.

"Mine."

"What?" The two younger occupants voiced.

"It's not naptime without Mari. You've been monopolizing her time. Mine now."

Neither of the younger could make heads nor tails of that. One use to Tim cutting off emotions and speaking so directly without consideration, but not the possessiveness being displayed. The other use to the clinginess and sleepless, unthinking words, but not the deadpanned delivery. It was weird to see the two sides mix together into this.

Mari was yanked from her stupor as Tim wrapped his arms around her, chin resting on her head, uncaring of their audience for the moment.

Eyes wide, she turned towards him and tilted to look up and meet his own dead ones.

"Yours?"

Reigning her in again, he rested his cheek in her hair, murmuring, "Mine."

Her and Dami met eyes and a smirk stretched across his face as he realized what this finally met.

"It's on."

"I suppose it is. If you'll excuse us, I think my attention is being demanded elsewhere."

"Oh, you think?"

"Mhm."

With that she allowed Tim to tug her away from the room, surprisingly not questioning the exchange, only to hear more invasive voices from down the hall. Not wanting to deal with the inevitable teasing and questions, he twirled on his heel, bringing her back past Damian and over into his own room. Surprised, but willing, Mari allowed him to lead her into his bed, hands holding her to him as he curled around her petite form, blanket coming up around them.

Finally finding her words, bright red painting her face, she turned in his arms, "Where'd that come from?"

"It's been 4 days. You never take that long."

"Miss me?" She teased, but the effect was ruined by the hope her voice betrayed.

"Terribly," he admitted unflinchingly. Surely, he was going to have an absolute anxiety attack when he woke up, but for now, his thoughts weren't coherent enough to be monitored or analyzed before falling out.

"What took you so long?" He wondered, pressing his forehead to hers.

"Kept getting too busy. You're not the only one who gets sucked into too much to think of sleep." She whispered, settling closer and running her hands over his shoulders in a soothing manner, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

" You should be apologizing to yourself. You need our naps as much as I do."

Humming, she guided her fingers up into his hair, glancing at his lips without thinking, "Do you think we could watch that movie you promised me next time?"

Waking up a little more at the seriousness of the question, even under the pretense of playfulness, he sent her a calculating look.

"I'd like that, ma lutine. Sunday night? We can watch it in my apartment..." He asks, purposefully looking down to her own parted lips before meeting her eyes again.

Silvery blues lit up at the endearment slipping out, moving further up into his space, lining up without touching.

"Yes please," whispers out.

Taking the plea for what it is, Tim slowly cups the back of her head in one hand, the other moving to tilt her chin. It's only for a moment, but he kisses her with such sweet affection, she feels dizzy with it.

He pulls away to her soft, happy humming, sleep creeping into the edges of his mind. Tucking her back under his chin, he falls into slumber with a quiet murmur.

"It's a date then."

#timari #maribat #timinette #sleeping is going to be a Thing here

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overdrivels · 4 years

Text

Impressions

Man, I think this’ll be the first time I write something using pronouns of my own accord. I don’t know if anyone’s ever noticed, but I’ve worked actively in most of my writings here (and in TWtaH) to never allude to gender or physical appearance. Forgive me just this once, I really want to indulge.

I didn’t proofread this, I just wanted to fight writer’s block and write something really, really self indulgent. I’m really not strong enough to abstain or to control my own bullshit. It’s like 4k of unorganized thoughts loosely strung together.

——

You came to the Watchpoint one chilly summer night, wearing a proud grin that the heavy pelting rains could not wash off. The upward turn of your lips stood out in sharp contrast to the deep droop of your loose clothes, more vessels for water than for you. Over the sounds of thunder you had boldly declared to everyone who came to see who was so brave and foolish as to come during this weather: “I’ve come to save you from yourselves.”

First impressions are everything, the clan had taught him that. But Overwatch taught him people are more than their first impressions.

Hanzo’s impression of you, the first (tracking mud and rain water on freshly cleaned floors), second (curled in the corner of the kitchenette, asleep and blocking the way to the kettle), and onward (not bothering to change after spilling coffee all over yourself, sleeping just anywhere you please and on anyone you please and at any time you please), was as lousy as the last.

‘Slovenly’ would be a good word to describe you and the way you carry yourself. Everything you did was haphazard and barely put together in the way that Hanzo would've been scolded and beat for as a youth.

Placed side-by-side, it's clear you're exact opposites. Hanzo, while approaching the end of his midlife crisis at a breakneck speed, still maintained some of the decorum that shadowed the immaculate side of himself that he had worn everyday for most of his life. You, on the other hand, looked like you rolled out of bed regardless of occasion without a care in the world or for how anyone might see you. It vexes him that people could call you a 'hero' or find comfort in your existence looking and acting the way you do.

Even McCree and the Junkers have more tact than you who sits in on the meeting in your pajamas and a crumpled parka meant to cover the fact that you were not wearing proper pants. At least they look battle-ready. You look like you're four seconds away from rolling back into bed.

"--we will require everyone's attendance. There will be many dignitaries present,”--Hanzo does not miss the way Winston seems to look at you—“so we ask you please be on your best behavior. The dress code is, of course, white-tie formal, though your tie may be whatever color you wish."

Winston chuckles a bit at his own joke, though it falls flat in the face of everyone else who seems more dismayed than anything at having to attend a formal party doing, arguably, the opposite of their jobs.

Hanzo can't help but glance over at you. Your head rests precariously on your palm, elbow threatening to slip out from beneath the weight. You're barely even trying to pay attention.

The thought sends an exasperated fire through Hanzo's veins and he forces himself to look away. His old habits of correcting people and instilling discipline were coming back to haunt him in spades. If he keeps paying too much attention to your lackadaisical manner, he fears he'll lose all the progress he's made since he's joined Overwatch--he'll relapse and soon have a sword in hand again.

Luckily neither of your paths crossed often. He still has no idea what you do. Your hours are unusual. You do not go on missions with them. You do not participate in combat drills. You do not voice your opinion on anything during meetings and no one mentions your seemingly lack of participation. Instead, you’re usually locked in your own room or get chauffeured around by Lena, disappearing for weeks at a time before returning with things like a golf bag or suitcase meant for vacationing. It's unclear how you're meant to 'save them from themselves' when you do nothing of value in the first place.

It’s good that he barely sees you except for times like these when everyone’s collective presence is required. Neither of you have so much as exchanged more than a sentence, but he’s overheard you jabbering once or twice that didn’t change his mind that you were useless and an irritating existence.

Beneath his skin, the dragons draw a slow, undulating spiral. Restless, but comfortable, drawing his attention away from the reminder that he is still no better of a person than he was before.

Winston explains the expected attendees of the party. All of them are high-profile figures with significant influence over their own spheres of influence. There are specific people he would like them to get on good terms with: the head of the United Nations; leaders of specific human rights movements; leaders of countries with pro-omnic rights. All agents should remain in groups and only designated people should seek conversations with specified individuals.

The most important thing is to project the image that Overwatch is back and united. Gaining support is just a parallel mission.

Everyone is dismissed, the weight of the briefing dragging down their moods. It’s a high stakes mission with a lot of risk. Throwing all of them unsupervised and untrained into this situation is too reckless.

For the sake of Overwatch, he hopes you'll at least wear something appropriate. Watching you leave the meeting with your lazy shuffling, and shoulders slumped to the point your parka is struggling to remain on your person, he has some serious reservations.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Lucio delicately readjust your parka like you’re a child to be looked after. The DJ had mentioned he took care of kids in his neighborhood--a natural big brother figure--so it’s natural for him to notice such things and take it into stride. Even so, there’s a limit to these activities.

You're an adult. He does not know your exact age, but he knows you should be old enough to not require the pampering of others. Snorting to himself, he turns away, determined not to let your existence bother him.

But that proves difficult.

The day of the party looms over everyone’s heads, rapidly drawing near. Tensions are palpable. Agents run to and fro, fretting over what is appropriate to wear and how to act that wouldn’t embarrass or threaten Overwatch’s existence.

While Hanzo isn’t worried about how to act during the party, one thing does weigh on his mind. You.

He hadn’t seen you since that meeting ended, explaining the party, and it’s already the eve of. He was too busy helping the other agents figure out their attires and manners to care, but now that most of that is sorted, he realizes he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of you.

It’s not that he cares. He doesn’t. Not about you anyway.

Winston tells him, “She’ll meet us at the party, not to worry. Her current mission will end just as the party starts."

"Current mission? I was not aware she did any work." If Winston noticed the amount of malice in those words, he didn't say anything about it. Ana, though, laughs into her hand.

"Oh yes, she does a lot for Overwatch. Not that you and everyone else doesn't, of course! Her activities are a little different than ours, so I haven't had a chance to pair her with anyone here so far. But rest assured, everyone is doing their parts to help."

It doesn't answer his question and Hanzo's not sure if Winston is being purposefully evasive. Not that the scientist has a single deceitful bone in his large body.

"And what exactly does she do?"

"Now, now. Let's save that for later." Ana steps in between them both. "We have other things to worry about. Did you study up on your target?"

"Of course."

He's memorized the dossier on the person he is supposed to make contact with at the party. She is the head of a for-profit charity organization. While her operations are small, they receive a considerable amount of support and boast of a large network of benefactors that Overwatch themselves can benefit from. He has no plans to mess this up.

"Very good. You're dismissed then." There's a hardness to her eye that forbids any further backtalk and Hanzo has no choice but to withdraw and ponder on the nature of your job.

In the end, he has to believe that you wouldn't be an embarrassment to Overwatch, especially not during their first public debut. No matter how unkempt you are normally, he knows you take your job seriously. Winston said as much and Hanzo has never once actually heard anyone complain about you. It's the only reason his irritation hasn't gotten the better of him.

—

The party itself is rather impressive, on par with the ones that he attended when he was still considered the scion of the Shimada clan. The hall is large and well decorated with arched ceilings and a live orchestra filling every crevice with music.

Paparazzi are ready for them, swarming immediately as soon as they step out of their rented hoverlimo. It takes the combined efforts of himself, McCree, Fareeha, Zarya, Roadhog, and Soldier: 76 to part the crowd and get into the venue.

Many of the guests are distinguished. Hanzo recognizes many of them as leaders of countries, a few as CEOs of national companies, A-list celebrities and holovideo personalities. Overwhelmingly political, though.

Dr. Zhou seems uncomfortable with the attention, shying away from conversation and making herself as small as possible. Winston is right beside her, equally awkward despite the gungho attitude he had about it in the beginning. At least they have Zarya and Fareeha with them to detract from any unwanted conversation.

Surprisingly, Reinhardt and Soldier: 76 blend right into the crowd, making pleasantries like it’s second nature. Even Ana is taking a large brunt of conversations relating to Overwatch, stepping in gracefully when needed, standing down and merely watching with an unapproachable aura when she wasn’t.

There are others who seem to disappear in the crowd. Satya, Genji, and McCree all seem to have made themselves scarce. Not that he has any room to talk--he’s made himself a home behind one of the many pillars in the back of the hall where he has a great view of most of the venue.

Everyone else is prim and proper and their suits and dresses as though it didn’t take them all about six hours to get ready.

In the back of his mind, he thinks it would be better if you couldn’t make it.

Not even an hour into the party, some commotion by the door catches his attention. Paparazzi, likely sensing the presence of a scoop, all swarm toward the arching entryway, excited murmurs buzzing throughout the hall. What could possibly get the attention of all these vultures?

He's half-curious, but he suddenly has his hands full running after Junkrat who decides he no longer likes his bowtie or the fact that the first four buttons of his shirt are closed.

It takes him a little while with McCree’s and Zenyatta’s help to calm Junkrat down--and he never realized just how tall the man was until he had to wrestle the Junker to the ground. By the time he’s done fixing himself up, the paparazzi crowd has dispersed and his hand is now occupied with champagne instead of rowdy children. He scans the crowd, seeking out his target for sweet talking.

But someone else catches his eye.

A figure in a dress no more fancier or elegant than any other attendee’s, but there’s just something about how the person holds themselves that gives him pause and puts him on edge as though the claws of a particularly dangerous animal were pressed against his neck.

Hanzo damn near drops his champagne glass in surprise when he’s able to put a name to the face.

It's you.

He has to do a double take and squint.

No, he has to be dreaming. This is a dream.

But no matter how much blinked or tried to clear his vision, you remain with the exception that you are more regal and composed than any time he's ever seen you. It's as though he's never known you at all. And maybe he doesn’t.

At his elbow, McCree whistles, catching your attention. Even your smile is refined, thinned and polite. You seem to politely fend off all the interested parties with ease and make your way over, shoulders held back and chin lifted, each step sure and crisp. Even your footsteps radiated authority and an unshakeable confidence not normally found in your daily life.

Up close, he can see you put immense thought into your appearance. Your make-up is sharp and meticulous. The dress is well suited to your figure and skin. Everything is composed to give you a fierce presence that cannot be ignored even by laymen. If he had to put your appearance into one word, it would be “beautiful”.

Why you never pay attention to your appearance normally is beyond him.

"You clean up nicely," McCree remarks as he hands you an extra glass of champagne. Gingerly, you take it between your fingers, tilting your head just so in appreciation with the crinkle of your eyes to match. Natural, but calculated. "What's your secret?"

Simply, you reply, "I had help.” Then: “You look great, yourself. I’m not sure if I like the rugged look or this side of you more. Both are handsome.”

“Much obliged.”

Clinking your glasses together, you raise yours at Hanzo. Autopilot kicks in and Hanzo politely meets your glass with his. Words escape him and a sip of champagne fills the void.

It cannot be you. You, who shows up to meetings in pajamas. You, who slouched on every sittable surface like it was your personal couch. You, who can’t even be bothered to put your clothes on right without someone else fixing it for you.

But you’re right here, making small talk with McCree like you were meant to.

“Hanzo, you look great, too. Very gorgeous.”

“Not as much as you,” he responds almost automatically. He clenches his jaw and hopes that he doesn’t look as panicked as he feels. This situation is just too strange.

Your eyes twinkle and you laugh. It sends a shiver down his spine. The sounds of something dangerous draws near and the sense of danger against his back presses itself harder against him. “Silver tongues everywhere. But I appreciate it. How are you enjoying the party?”

“As much as anyone else.”

“Not at all, then.”

“Come on, when are we ever going to have such fancy food?” McCree says, waving at the trays of hor d'oeuvres being carted around by bots.

“Soon, if our mission goes well.”

Again, you give him a look that he’s wary of.

Just what have you been doing all this time to be able to look like this? You seem to have no problems blending in to the crowd here as though you belonged with them. If he didn’t know you were a part of Overwatch, he would’ve mistaken you for a target.

He’s reminded of the few mafia bosses he’s met in life who would greet him wearing jinbei instead of the expensive suits Hanzo was accustomed to seeing. People with so much power that they don’t care about appearances anymore-they have nothing to prove to anyone.

Are you the same? Or was the Watchpoint just your way of unwinding?

Soon, Lena and her girlfriend join the conversation. Lena looks delighted at your appearance, a large grin spreading across her face.

"Lookin' fancy, love. Was wondering if you’d even make it."

"Thank you, Lena. And is this Emily? I've heard so much about you, Lena just won't stop gushing."

“What does she say?”

“Hey, hey! Ix-nay on the irlfriendgay.”

Seeing this side of you puts him off kilter. He’s not quite sure how to reconcile the image of you that he’s accustomed to and the person in front of him. He’s used to people hiding their true natures and donning personas, but this contrast is just too jarring.

Luckily, he finds his break when he spies his target and with an “Excuse me” makes his way to her. He doesn’t turn back lest he makes a further fool of himself.

“Are you enjoying the party, Argus Twenty?” he asks.

The omnic’s lights blink as though scanning her memory bank for his face, but seemingly comes up empty. “Very much so. And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Shimada, Hanzo. Overwatch. At your service.” He bows slightly at the waist. “I have heard a lot about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Only the best. I’ve been meaning to speak to you about your work and if there was anything Overwatch can do to help. We seem to be of similar ventures.”

Even without facial expressions, he could tell she’s smiling. “In that case—”

It’s much easier than he expects to talk to her. She’s refreshingly straightforward and objective, presenting her troubles and solutions with tact. He even gets her to speak of the power dynamics and relationships in her organization, and how they could help each other.

Somehow, he feels like he already knows her.

The time passes easily (as does his mission).

When Argus leaves, she gives him her business card, inviting him to the restaurant that is the organization’s main headquarters. Hanzo promises to visit to further build on this relationship. Now he can tell Winston they’ve secured another means to support. Another job well done.

As he searches for Winston, he sees suspicious movements from the corner of his eye. It’s Mei and Hana, cornered by someone who looks to be twice their age combined. He can’t exactly see who it is, but he can tell the two are uncomfortable.

"I want to hear all about it. My villa is open to you ladies anytime."

“Thank you, we’ll have to check our schedules.”

“Oh, but I insist. I’m sure you can free up some time.”

No one else is close enough to interfere. He resigns himself to what would undoubtedly be a difficult time. Squaring his shoulders, he raises his head, donning the air of authority that he once wore like a second skin and makes swift strides toward the trio, fully intending on breaking up the one-sided 'conversation'.

Someone else bears him to the punch.

"Have you been hiding from me all night?"

Your smile is dazzling as you smoothly and loudly interject, extend a free hand toward the man. "Mr. Drumph, what about my invitation? We haven't spoken since that time in Washington, beginning to think you've forgotten about me."

The man's face screws up into a tight smile.

"Long time, my friend!" He grasps your hand with both of his, giving it a firm shake. "Was just inviting these ladies to my villa. Great views. Great food. Nothing better. You’re invited, too, of course."

“Of course. When’s a good time for you? I’m fully booked for the next five months, but I will clear my schedule for you, just tell me when.”

“You know, if I could just get those lobbyists off my back, I could probably do two weeks from now.”

You tsk, a derisive smile on your face. "From the OmniCore, right? I could lend you a hand, you know. They do owe me for that one case, you know, with LumeriCo?"

"That’s right, LumeriCo. You have connections with them, don’t you?”

“I can arrange for that right now. Give you some breathing room for a month.” You take out your communicator, already texting. “You know, I remember your golf course is near your villas. I would love for you to show me your short game again. Maybe even invite Sam this time.”

“Sam? Remind me again...”

“President of HardBank.” A guiding hand turns the man around, gesturing at some vague figure in the crowd. You shoot a look at the frozen Mei and Hana, gesturing with your eyes for them to make their escape.

The two give you a thumbs up, shuffling away.

“Oh, yeah, her. She was involved in the acquisition fiasco with BioTech—”

“We all benefited from it. I think she can lend us a hand this time, too. HardBank’s the main sponsors of OmniCore. I’m sure she can call things off for a bit. Come with me to the bar, I see you could use another drink. Have you ever tried a boilermaker?”

The two of you slowly start to walk, drifting into the thick of the party like old friends, Mei and Hana quickly forgotten. Hanzo watches as more and more people begin to take notice, likely seeing Mr. Drumph's presence at your side as permission to approach. It’s not long before you’re laughing it up and chatting with other, equally powerful figures. You blend right in with them, feeding them the same poison they dish out.

The sight is painfully familiar.

Hanzo stands there, determined not to feel impressed by your handling of the situation and instead goes to check on the two.

—

As the party winds down, Hanzo finds you resting in one of the more secluded areas of the venue. Even half-hidden like this, you’re still sitting with your back straight and eyes sharp, ready to jump straight back into the socialite persona you’ve displayed this entire evening.

Wordlessly, he hands you a juice which you take without looking at him.

“Thank you.”

He says nothing, looking down at your head and studying your features.

Truly. If you dressed like this and acted like this all the time, he wouldn’t have wasted his time worrying about you and the potential shame you would bring upon Overwatch. Now he feels liek a fool for having been concerned in the first place. Winston would not call back anyone who isn’t qualified to do their jobs, and Overwatch, despite being defunct and having lost its way prior to the Fall, did employ some of the most brilliant of each field. It serves to reason that you are no different in that regard.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask quietly.

“Hm. I just was not aware you had experience in something such as politics. It’s a bad hobby.”

"There is no good or bad in politics. Just self-interests."

"I am inclined to disagree."

"Disagree then. It doesn't change the fact that I get more done at golf courses and resorts than in an office."

"And what exactly have you done for Overwatch?"

You raise a pointed eyebrow as if asking if he were serious. A sly, calculated smile slowly worms its way into your face. There's a new shine in your eyes, mischievous and mocking.

"If you don't know, then there's no need to worry yourself about it."

Translation: Your lowly rank does not permit you to know.

Before he has a chance to retort, Winston jumps in, seemingly a little more tipsy than when Hanzo first saw him.

“Please allow me to explain then.” Winston puts his finger in the air. "Overwatch is currently in need of financial and political support. We can continue doing our deeds, but there’s a risk it won’t be perceived well. We needed someone to handle that side for us, hence…” He gestures at you, nearly hitting you in the face, and the party. “All this.”

It's true. None of them are suited for the tedious backdoor dealings of the political world. Hanzo is the closest candidate, but his ties mean nothing here. (Not that he wants them to in the first place.) And he can’t think of anyone else who would be willing to spend the time cultivating these relationships.

“Cat’s out of the bag then.” You smile that well-practiced smile, swirling your juice. "I've been a political aide for a long time. When Winston asked me to come back, I spent months going around and establishing political ties. Now I handle most of Overwatch's advocacy. Your good deeds will only go so far. To change a corrupt system, it's best to either dismantle it or take control of it."

"And which are you doing?"

The flute touches your lips and your smile turns sly. "Which do you think, Mr. Shimada?" A sip of your drink prevents you from answering. Not that he was expecting it, not after seeing what you do.

“Hm.”

“Well, don’t worry about it too much. As long as you accomplish your mission, there’ll be plenty of opportunity for you to get involved in mine.”

You laugh and instantly go back to your professional self, having spotted another target of yours. Excusing yourself, you approach a couple with smooth compliments and sinister whispers as you attempt to secure another backdoor deal.

Again, Hanzo tries not to be impressed with the words coming out of your mouth and the ease with which you wield these promises.

Truly, his impressions were wrong.

—

Hanzo sees you again at the Watchpoint, weeks after the party.

You're back to your usual self, dragging a blanket around your waist, probably in lieu of actual pants. Unconsciously, a disgusted noise escapes his throat. But he doesn’t forget that beneath that sloppy facade is the mind of a person willing to put themselves at political risk for Overwatch and that whatever his impressions of you are, they’re wrong.

But it’s hard not to go back to being annoyed with you now that he’s had a glimpse of what you could really be.

First impressions are lasting, after all.

#my writing #back on my bullshit

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twoidiotwriters1 · 5 years

Text

Starcrossed Losers VI (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: Are you guys enjoying the series so far? this is kind of a filler chapter, but not really, all together make the series whole uwu

Words: 2,815

Warnings: Gangrene and Y/N taking the role of the mom friend. She’s under a lot of pressure, don’t blame her.

Previous chapter // Next chapter

When Josh wakes up I’m quietly rearranging the stuff in my bag and writing the inventory on a small notepad, I may stay longer than expected but I’m not unpacking, we never know if we might have to leave in a hurry.

“Hi,” He says in a hoarse voice.

I look up to meet his eyes and he looks like shit, but he’s awake now, so it’s gotta be a good sign.

“Hey champ,” I reply with a grin, “you’re okay?”

“I...” Josh looks down to his hand and I see how his face drops, “yup, wasn’t a dream. I cut my finger.”

“Yes you did,” I close the notepad and stare at him intently, “and I had to cauterize the injure so you wouldn’t bleed out, genius.”

“Yeah, I remember that too,” He looks at me with embarrassment, “thanks”

“I haven’t slept, but I’m sure I’ll be having nightmares about it for a while” I shiver, putting my things away and standing up, “you must be hungry, I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I can go, don’t worry,” Josh tries to get out of bed, but I push him back on the pillows.

“You lost blood and you haven’t eaten in like, a whole day. I don’t want you passing out and hitting your head. Especially since I can’t carry you back.”

“I can do it, I won’t fall,” He insists, trying to push my hand away.

“It’s not a problem Josh, let me go,” I reassure him.

And maybe Josh feels tired and doesn’t want to admit it, but he accepts my help and lays down. I go over to one of the vending machines and break the glass with my hammer. I honestly love my new weapon, it makes me feel powerful and scary. Which is sort of like an improvement. When I get back he’s fast asleep, so I leave the twinkies on the table and I go back to my inventory.

It’s a quiet night and I like it, nights are usually quiet but after all that has happened these last few hours, I seriously needed a break. I have time to sit and make a silly inventory and I can have a nap in peace while Josh sleeps.

I dream about my old life, it happens more often than not. My brain forgets that I’m no longer in that normal world and I still have to make that final project for history class. I like it when that happens, cause my dream self doesn’t remember all that’s happening outside my head. She doesn’t have regrets or guilt, she never kissed her best friend, she never said all those things to him to push him away. She never... killed her sister.

I wonder if I’ll ever be able to leave that behind me. I know everyone had to do terrible things to survive, but my problems only seem to get bigger and bigger as I walk away from them, it doesn't matter if I run in the other direction, I can still see them.

It’s daytime, must be early cause it’s colder than last night and the sun comes dimly from the mall’s skylight. I straighten up on the sofa where I ended up falling asleep and my muscles instantly scold me for the position I forced them to stay in the whole night. Soon I notice that the reason I’m awake it’s ‘cause Josh is grunting and tousling on the bed. I walk up to him and raise his hand to watch its condition and I feel a cold sensation that has nothing to do with my surroundings.

The bandage has a funny smell and a brownish color coming from where the injury is. I carefully take off the duct tape and then the bandage, and I curse under my breath once I see the full result:

His finger is swollen and red, a liquid is pouring from it and I’m sure the skin wasn't damaged as far as where the color reaches. This is wrong. Very wrong. I touch it gently but it’s enough to make Josh jolt awake, I jump back and accidentally drop his hand. He yelps and holds his hand with the other, looking at me with a frown.

“Shit, you scare me,” I reach for his hand but he’s already looking at it with wide eyes.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” I start to look frantically around the table for a new set of bandages and tape, “I mean, I did do it before when I stopped the bleeding, but your hand got infected on its own... not that it’s any better but I mean, it was expected to happen! We don’t have the right equipment and the way I didn’t surely wasn’t the best-”

“Y/N, you’re freaking out,” He cuts off my rambling, “and that’s freaking me out, so just... take a deep breath and help me.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing since you did that to yourself,” I grumble as I finally found what I need, “you know, if we don’t find medicines and stuff, you’re gonna die.”

“That’s nice,” He drags his legs towards the edge of the bed and sits, outstretching his arm so I can put the bandages on it, “So what do we do?”

“We should go out and find them,” I reply calmly, “not you, you can't go anywhere with your hand like this.”

“I’m fine. I can deal with this on my own.”

“Has the infection already reached your brain? You can’t deal with it on your own, you'll die.”

“I heard you the first time. I’m still going.”

“Listen here, you little shit,” I grab his left wrist tightly while I finish putting the tape around it, “I don’t know how strong and brave do you think you are, or if you think that going through all this trouble is gonna make Sam forgive you for whatever it is that you fought. But I spent the worst time of my life trying to keep you alive so you can reunite with her, and I’ll be damned if I let you throw all that to the garbage and die cause you’re too stubborn.”

Josh blinks rapidly after my rant, speechless or maybe just too affected by the infection that he can’t even think of a whole sentence. He gives a short nod and mumbles.

“Alright, I’ll wait.”

“Thank you,” I scowl, “now eat. You didn’t have dinner last night and you need it.”

I throw the twinkies on his lap and he jumps, taken by surprise. I walk out the store to get food for myself and I run into Crumble, who now has Josh’s finger inside a hot dog bun.

“Uhm,” I stare at her lunch tray, “are you gonna eat that..?”

“Smells so nice...” Crumble stares at it and stands up suddenly, “I need sauce.”

She runs out and I’m left there looking at the finger in disgust.

Why, why is my life such a freaking nightmare?

“Hey, Y/N,” Eli is standing against the curtain, I can’t tell if he’s been there the whole night, “you look stressed, princess”

“Please, don’t ever call me that,” I groan, “what do you want?”

“I heard Josh is having medical issues,” He smirks, “the pharmacy is on my side...”

“Listen, I don’t have a say on whether you stay there or not, don’t try to blackmail me.”

“Okay then,” Eli raises his hands and steps back from the curtain, “make sure to get rid of Josh’s body before it starts to stink.”

“Fuck off,” I hiss.

This is all wrong, how did I get myself into this? I was supposed to be a loner so this kind of shit wouldn’t get to me. By this kind of shit, I mean injured people and feelings. I’m a good person, so naturally, I wanna do what’s best for others instead of putting my own safety first. I always did this, even before the end of the world, and it always ended in one thing, which is me, completely worn out and alone.

------------------------------------------

“Katie, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Thank god you called me, Y/N,” I hear her sigh heavily, “I missed you! What’s wrong?”

“Oh, uh...” How do you start a conversation where you’re bound to be the bad guy? “You know Alex, right?”

“Do I know your best friend since childhood?” She chuckles, “yes, what’s with him?”

“Well, you know how I always said he was so nice and all, and that I really appreciated him?”

“So you finally realized you have a crush on him?”

“Yeah- wait, you knew?!”

“Honey, everyone knows. Not Alex, but I mean, definitely everyone else.”

I get up from my bed and start walking in circles.

“You think Stuart knows?”

“Maybe. He’s the one dating Alex, right?” I tell her it is, “okay, then it’s very likely.”

“Okay... good”

“Okay?”

“No, it’s not,” I close my bedroom’s door and lean against it, “I kissed him.”

“You kissed Stuart?”

“I kissed Alex!” Why exactly do I call my sister for this? It’s a mystery, I guess that I fell under the impression that older sisters are wiser, “and he kissed back, but it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, Katie, what do I do?”

“When did this happened exactly?”

“Last week.”

“And you waited this long to tell me?” She replies in disbelief, “How dare you?”

“Hey, you’re not the one with a problem here,” I claim, “besides, you were studying for your english test, I couldn’t distract you.”

“You aren’t a distraction, Vinchi,” The nickname was also used by my family members, when I say Alex was close to me, I mean he even assisted to my mother’s birthdays, “you’re my sister, if you need help I can make all the time in the world to assist you.”

“I just don’t know what to do,” I whine, letting my body fall slowly to the floor, and sitting miserably, “should I talk to Alex? Should I tell Stuart?”

“Don’t tell Stuart without talking to Alex first,” She warns me, “it would cause innecessary drama, and Stuart is also your friend, you could end up hurting him in the proccess and ruining your friendship.”

“I’m the worst friend ever.”

“You’re young, it’s ok. Besides, you had a crush on Alex even before he started dating Stuart, it wasn’t personal.”

“I’m in love with his boyfriend, of course it’s personal!”

“Not because you want to hurt him,” Katie adds, “Y/N, listen, you’re not a bad person. These things happen, and you’ll go through it, and you’ll learn from it. You got this, talk to Alex and fix things.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m not me anymore,” I say, “ever since the kiss is like I don’t derseve to have my essence back. I need to redeem myself.”

“It was just a kiss, Y/N, don’t be so dramatic”

“Rude,” I hear footsteps coming from the hall, so I move away from the door quickly, “but you’re right. I’ll talk to Alex.”

“Good!- Wait, right now? is late, Vinchi...”

“He’ll be up, his parents are out of town. I have to hang, but thanks though!”

“I’m one call away if you need anything else,” She reassures me, “good luck”

------------------------------------------

“So I couldn’t find any type of serum-like drink, I just found Gatorade but I don’t think this will- what the hell are you doing?”

Josh is packing up his things and putting them on a transpallet that I have no idea where he found, his face is white and is sweating profusely.

“I feel better now, I need to keep going.”

I take a deep breath and hold the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes in concentration so I don’t lose my cool on this idiot.

“What are you packing?” I decide to ignore the clear problem for a moment, knowing it won’t take us anywhere.

“Food and stuff”

“Food and stuff,” I stare skeptically, “wow, that definitely will keep you going in one piece”

“Y/N, please don’t start”

“Oh, I’m starting” I walk up to him, harshly throwing the Gatorade bottle inside his backpack, “you should take clean bandages too, and duct tape since it seems to be working so well for you. Also, I bet the dust and shit from outside will do wonders with the pus around your finger.”

“You’re sounding like my mother,” He complains.

I give him a disgruntled look and start to walk beside him when he moves, pushing the transpallet in front of him.

“I’m just trying to help,” I state.

“Don’t,” He pressures, “honestly, I don’t need you following me around to make sure I’m okay, why are you insisting so much?”

“I don’t know!” I exclaim loudly, “I don’t know, okay? Maybe I just need to feel like I’m doing something good for the first time in weeks, maybe the guilt of many mistakes is eating me alive and the fact that you don’t let me have my redemption is making me angry”

“Well I’m sorry to ruin your redemption arch, but you’ll have to look for it somewhere else, cause I’m not your guy,” He sees Crumble and raises his voice, “Hey! um, can you tell Wesley...”

He stops himself when Crumble looks around frantically following a crow’s movements above us.

“Huh, nevermind, you’re too nuts to remember anyway.”

Crumble looks back at us and grabs Josh’s arm, nodding.

“I’ll tell Wesley,” Her eyes wander while she thinks of the words, “uh, nevermind, you’re too nuts to remember anyway.”

Then she goes back to chasing the bird. Josh rolls his eyes and keeps going, with me bickering beside him.

“I just don’t get how someone so smart for some things can be so stupid for others”

“Who told you I’m smart?” He replies sardonically.

“Me, after doing the chemistry project together.”

“That was school, Y/N, I was just doing homework, it doesn’t mean I’m smart. I got C’s in everything anyway.”

“No, in our project you didn’t. You can tell someone’s intelligent by the way they act around others, it’s a fact. And you weren’t messy about it. You had every answer prepared and you were creative about it because you didn’t want to upset me. I enjoyed making that project cause you weren’t a shitty partner and that gave us a good grade.”

“So?” He asks, completely indifferent to what I’m saying.

“So don’t be shitty now!” I slap his arm.

“Ouch! Stop harassing me!”

We get to where Angelica and Wesley are, and they stare at Josh in confusion.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Asks the girl, “your finger looks like Tom Sizemore’s dick.”

“Yeah, I lost some blood and...” Josh examines his finger more carefully, “the gangrene it’s spreading, but I’m fine. I’m fine.”

I scoff, crossing my arms and looking at Wesley for support.

“The truest warrior knows when to hold ‘em, and when to fold ‘em” He adds with a worried expression.

“Guys, look, I’m fine. Okay?” He picks up food from the transpallet and puts it in his backpack, “Sam is still out there somewhere, and I have-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before falling flat above his stuff. He fainted. Again.

Wesley laughs quietly before pushing him back to the store.

“You are taking a day off.”

“Stupid Josh,” I shake my head, following Wesley, “we need stuff from the pharmacy on Eli’s side”

“He won’t give us shit unless we raise the curtain.”

“So? Raise the fucking curtain. We can’t be fighting over something so stupid as that.”

“You think I like it?” He looks over his shoulder to me, “I’m just making sure that little crazy man doesn’t slaughter us.”

“He wasn’t going to, in the first place”

“You don’t know that”

“You don’t know it either.”

“Look, I’ll talk to him, see if he has an ounce of kindness left in his heart,” He stops in front of the bed, carrying Josh towards the mattress, “but is he refuses, you gotta stop scolding us like you’re our mother, Y/N, jeez...”

I’m not acting like a mom!

“I’m not acting like a mom! Now get out of here, before I give you a reason to believe I am acting like your mom and slap your ass with Josh’s belt! Go!”

Okay, maybe I am a little bit like a mom friend.

Wesley walks away from me in a hurry and leaves me alone with Josh, his breathing is even and it doesn’t look like he’s about to die just yet, so I give them as limit a day and a half before Josh starts to have real problems. We need to get those medicines, and we need to find a way to make his gangrene stop.

Things are not looking good.

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @hollywaterpls

#twoidiots writing #daybreak fanfic #daybreak #josh wheeler #josh wheeler xreader #wesley fists #angelica green #ms crumble #eli cardashyan #netflix

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