#yes it's just some finals but damn if my brain is unable to process that there will be anything beyond the finals

[smallblueandloud]

being so so so brave. on friday i can pet my cats and do a puzzle.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

ok so like. remember the time I made this post about that one background doctor in "caligari"

yk. this guy

well. anyway. bc I can't leave this damn movie alone. I have headcanons for him. get ready

so, in my silly little brain, this guy is named friederich stein. he's visibly younger than the other doctors, but he was there when cesare was first brought in, so I'm thinking that he just started working at the asylum at that point. cesare was brought in when he was around 18; dr. stein was 23- the same age cesare would be during the events of the film.

from the moment he helped bring in the new patient and saw the director's reaction, dr. stein knew there was something off about his employer. yes, the asylum director was suspiciously physical with the patient and wouldn't let any of the other staff members near him, but he was a renowned psychologist who specialized in the patient's condition, so he had to have known what he was doing... right? besides, dr. stein couldn't just accuse the asylum director of malpractice; he was a new hire, and working for the director of the holstenwall asylum- a pioneer in the budding field of psychology and sleep disorders- was a tremendous honor after all he'd done to get there. such accusations against an accomplished man like the director, especially without solid evidence, would certainly doom his career in the medical field.

over the years, dr. stein hardly saw the patient he'd helped wheel into the director's office. yet as he worked, he often heard screams echo through the halls, or muttering that became more and more unintelligible with each passing day. the days where no sound at all came from the director's office scared him the most- but perhaps that meant the patient's treatment was working, didn't it? it would be foolish to question the director, after dr. stein owed his entire career to him.

it wasn't until francis found the journal that dr. stein realized how right he was to be suspicious. the patient had been tormented, stripped to the bone of autonomy and plunged, sleeping, into a bloodbath, forced into an eternal nightmare he could not wake from. and yet, he'd been right there, in the asylum where dr. stein worked. he'd heard the patient's pleas turn to screams, and the screams turn to sobs, and the sobs turn to complete silence. he'd sworn an oath to do no harm- and yet he hadn't done anything to rescue a suffering soul just a few doors away. all this time, if he only could have confronted the director, then he would not have multiple murders and the destruction of a patient's mind on his conscience. what sort of doctor was he if he couldn't prevent this from happening? and did he not prevent it because he was unable to, or because he didn't want to?

as he processed the contents of the journal, the evil that had been taking place this entire time at the hands of the man he worked for, and the evil he was complicit in, he wanted nothing more than to comfort-no, to cure the patient, actually cure him, to clean the blood from his hands and restore everything that had been taken from him. as a doctor, he had to. but when he finally saw him again, it was too late- the young man had been found splayed out in a field, his heart having given out after, the authorities had said, he had tried to abduct the daughter of a wealthy local family.

the director had been deemed insane, jacketed, and locked into one of the cells in which he had tortured his own patients for far too long. dr. stein would, on some days, attempt to visit his cell in hopes of receiving answers, but when he saw him, the director- caligari, whatever he called himself- would only smile at him from his cot- the sort of smile one would give after winning a very long chess match.

[cinnamonest]

Lupophobia

Yandere "Escape Attempt" prompt - Razor

-------------------- Words: 8,944 Warnings:-fem reader, attempted noncon beastiality (none actually happens), yandere/captivity, noncon, biting, breeding, brief gendered themes/tones involving animal mating. Heavily inspired by my degrees of lewdity "deviant"/beastiality playthrough. I applied things I learned in college linguistics for this. Truly putting my education to a good purpose. --------------------- The fortunate thing about animals, and their adjacents, was that they were very easy to deceive, and no matter what, they would fall for the same trick, time and time again. "You see it girl? You want it?" You grimaced at the slimy texture on your fingers, wiggling the fatty slab in your grip and swallowing the sickness that came from looking at it. Out of, you supposed, ingrained social habits, you gave an awkward smile as you wiggled the meat. In contrast, the wolf had the opposite reaction, her ears immediately perked up, and she leaped into a playful position, front half low to the ground as her tail stuck up, and a low whine escaped her throat, eyes fixated on the meat. Yes, unlike with people, who had a greater capacity for pattern recognition and learning, who followed the fool me once, fool me twice mantra, you could count on animals to be easily deceived over and over without having to change the way you deceived them. This was far from the first time you had pulled this exact move, nor was it difficult to do -- you merely waited for a spare moment to rip out a chunk of the meat and hid it away for a little while while the rest of the pack was not looking, too absorbed in their own gorging to even cast a glance in your direction. "You want it...?" You repeated, wiggling the slab again in front of the wolf's eyes. Drool spilled out of the side of her mouth between her sharp, glistening teeth, and she let out another whine.

This was not the first time this trick had worked. This was not the first time you'd managed to steal and hide a hunk of meat away while the animals gorged themselves on the remains of whatever poor creature fell victim to them. Hell, this wasn't even the first time that this specific trick had worked on this specific individual wolf. You'd come to recognize each of them with time, even assigned them little names in your head by identifiers. She was a mother, one of the wolves that remained behind at the little den while the others went out for hunting, leaving only the nursing females, the smallest pups, and, well, yourself. Albeit in a weakened state in nursing, they were still easily capable of overpowering you, and, through means you honestly did not understand, they somehow knew they were supposed to prevent you from leaving. Even when you stood up, one or more of them would immediately pick their heads up, ears falling flat and even letting out the softest of warning growls.

She whined in front of you, eyes fixated on the slab. You wiggled it again. It was an easy deceit to pull off. "You want it... then go... get it!"

You hurled the hunk of red flesh as far as your arms could manage, and, exactly per plan, the she-wolf immediately bolted in the direction of the throw. And likewise, you turned on your heel and began the now-routine dash in the opposite direction -- the direction of human civilization. That had been the easy part.

It was the rest of the way that would be difficult. This time of day was the only opportunity you had to pull this whole thing off, but the sun was quickly setting, and unlike the wolves, you were not exactly gifted with night vision. You likened the route to an obstacle course, a puzzle -- repeated actions that became muscle memory. The first few times, you'd merely stumbled around in the woods for a few minutes. With each successive attempt, you retained more knowledge of the path, could clear a longer distance in increasingly shorter times, memorized landmarks, remembered little helpful actions and hindrances, and with each successive attempt, you found yourself making it closer and closer to the end of the woods than the time before. There wasn't much else to go by, so you used trees that stood out to you. The huge tree with the hollowed out hole in the center was the first landmark -- go right. The tree that had an oddly-angled branch came next. So on and so on. You measured success by how many of said landmarks you could pass in time, striving to make each a longer and longer venture every time. Just when despair had been finally getting the better of you, the last attempt had had you finding a footpath used by the Springvale hunters, and that meant you were close. If you could just find that again -- there. To say flat ground was a welcome feeling to your bare feet was an understatement. The slimy dirt texture of the forest floor and prickly leaves and pine needles was not a pleasant sensation. Nonetheless, there was no time to savor it or anything, soon, soon, you'd walk on paved streets, and floors, and, and... You stopped for a mere moment, panting, desperately taking in deep breaths to soothe the exhaustion burning in your chest. You darted your head from side to side. There was no sign of anything coming your way. No footsteps or growls in the distance behind you. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, as much from physical exertion as it was from a blooming, disbelieving excitement. I might actually make it.  Your legs felt weak at the prospect, and you steadied your stumbling against a tree. You were certain you'd never made it this far before. It was difficult to process, almost surreal. After so, so, so many times, over the course of months and months, you were so used to being stopped by this point that your brain half-expected it at any moment. You'd really reached a point at which the escape attempts were almost done with a knowing futility, you no longer really had much hope when setting out, merely running on principle and the faint chance that was now so real. You could be stopped any moment. And yet, after a few more breaths, nothing happened. You shook your head to clear the dizziness, taking a deep breath and squinting forward in the twilight. You nearly felt your heart stop when you processed a shape in the distance -- a building. Springvale. It was distant and downhill, but visible. Right there within your reach, and all you had to do was go to it, so you steadied your breath and took off as fast as-- The world suddenly spun around you as something snatched at your ankle. Your shriek echoed off the trees, reverberating until it grew silent. A clanging of metallic sounds accompanied it, rattling hollowed objects triggered into motion. Everything began to settle, the sudden flooding of stimuli to your eyes and the feeling of sudden movement both slowing to a gentle sway. You were unbreathing, unblinking, heart pounding as your vision spun and, in a panicked haze, you desperately darted your eyes and head each way, struggling to process your senses. Your head felt suddenly tight and tense, your upper half heavy, and a burning pain wrapped around your ankle. Everything was... upside down. You looked down -- no, up -- at your feet. One was bent at the knee, falling in the direction of gravity towards your head, the other was extended perfectly straight, tense and unable to move. A cord was snagged around your ankle, a perfect tightened knot that wrapped around the flesh. You looked up -- no, again, down -- at the ground. Nausea lurched in your stomach as you did, seeing the forest floor a good drop below. You took a moment to process. You followed the trail of the rope from where it tugged painfully at your ankle, followed it to the branch it looped over, and down the trunk to the base of the tree, where it was securely tied around a knotted root. The metallic sound had come from what appeared to be collected garbage, metal scraps, a glass bottle or two, and some metal tools and cans all tied up in a net and secured to the spot where the rope met the branch, an alert that the trap had been set off. Your mouth hung open, you blinked over and over, before finally, bitter anger burst in your chest. "Ghhhhh!" You let out a frustrated, furious cry, thrashing wildly and pulling at your scalp. You kicked and struggled, but only succeeded in making yourself swing, making the nausea and dizziness worse. A trap. Of course. The furthest you've ever gotten, and you were stopped by a fucking hunting trap. Damn those Springvale hunters for coming this far out into the woods. It could be worse, you tried to console yourself. It could have been a bear trap, which would have more or less destroyed your leg, possibly taken it clean off. But nonetheless, misery and frustration bubbled up in your chest as you swung back and forth, slowing down to stillness. You'd never made it this close to town before. You could see the road as well, albeit just barely, a few hundred yards in the distance. You could make out where the dirt path became gravel in the distance, upside-down in the last light of the quickly-setting sun, and, as tears filled your eyes, you reached a hand out to it, miserably grasping your hand shut before letting your arm fall. It was so, so close! Now you were trapped, stuck here in this miserable, humiliating predicament, and you'd have to wait to be saved, and inevitably dragged back the way you'd come. You thrashed again, trying and failing to curl your body up and reach your foot. Your fingers just barely grazed the knot of the rope, but even if you could reach it, it was designed for your body weight to hold the knot in place to begin with. You let out a shaky sigh and a small sob, tears dripping directly out of your eyes and falling downward with gravity. You wiped your eyes, and a thought made a bit of nervous, daring hope light up in your chest. You were close to Springvale, right? Maybe you could be heard. This trap was set by the Springvale hunters themselves, right? You'd seen these types before, a snare that, when tripped, released on one side and whipped around the center of the force that tripped the rope, forming a perfect, tight knot around the ankle of the prey before hauling it upwards by use of weight. You took a deep breath and cupped your hands around your mouth. "Help!" You called out, straining out the vowel as long as you could, before inhaling a ragged breath and repeating the action. As the echoes quieted, you waited, but nothing happened. You wriggled and writhed, but only succeeded in making the net of metal rattle. You supposed it helped the hunters hear animals struggling, and led them to the source. But the hunters wouldn't be back out until tomorrow, you couldn't afford to wait for them to come rescue you on their own. You waited a moment, trying again and again to yell. The Springvale hunters, a traveler on the road, hell, you'd accept help from treasure hoarders if they hung out in this part of the wilderness. Anyone, anyone human. Well, except one, preferably, but still. Any other human being. You couldn't even remember the last human interaction you'd had. At least, a fully human interaction, without any licks or whines or growls or other canid behaviors you'd become far too accustomed to. But nobody came. You waited. Tried again. And again. And again. No response. Your head was beginning to pound and throb. You'd black out if you stayed like this much longer, and you were pretty certain it could even kill you. But nothing was responding to your cries for help. You wracked your brain in panic for a solution. An idea popped into your head. You'd seen Razor do it before, and the wolves responded to him even though he produced the sound with a human voice, so maybe you too could... It was embarrassing, but worth a try. You didn't exactly have many options. You jerked your bodyweight in the other direction, making yourself turn to face the woods in the direction you'd come from instead of Springvale. You reached your quickly-numbing arms up and cupped your hands around your mouth, forming your lips into an "o" shape, and, well, swallowed your pride. You didn't have any better ideas. "Awooooo--" You tried to mimic the howls you'd heard so many times as accurately as you could manage, but it came out a bit strained and comical. You waited a moment, and, receiving no response, whimpered in your desperation and tried a second time. Your voice echoed throughout the trees. You weren't certain exactly how it worked, you were pretty certain they had different tones they used, some for aggression, some as a cry of distress, but you weren't capable of telling them apart. You could only hope for the best. It wasn't really as if they could help you, but at the very least, they would probably go find Razor for you. They'd done so before, after another humiliating failure when you'd fallen into a hole in the earth during a past attempt. You'd learned they were far more intelligent than you once thought, and they understood things like that, at least. But gods, did this make you feel dumb. Your face heated with embarrassment with each attempt. You inhaled to try a third time, but as you did, a shrill howl pierced the air from a distance. A response. Your heartrate picked up as a little spark of relief and hope -- albeit dread that lurked in the back of your head -- made you shudder. You howled again, and received a second response. It carried on for a few minutes that way, sounding back and forth, and it sounded like the other was getting closer. Finally, you heard steps, and anticipation swelled in your chest. You were pretty sure that the response howls had been that of an actual wolf -- even you, in your time in these woods, had learned to tell the difference between Razor's vocalizations and that of the wolves. There were simply some aspects of the canid sounds that human vocal chords could only mimic, but not recreate to a perfect likeness, and thus his vocalizations were a bit distinct. Still, you could be wrong, or, even better, perhaps the footsteps coming close to you weren't an animal at all, but perhaps a different figure, maybe a hunter...? No, that was definitely a four-legged gait. That, too, was something you had learned to tell apart, a two-legged gait versus a four-legged one. It kind of came in handy when you were trying to to hide or run and needed to gauge exactly what was hunting you down. You craned your neck to the best of your ability in the direction of the sound. A creature emerged from the trees. You took a sharp breath. ...It was merely a very large, brownish-greyish wolf. It gazed up at you with big black eyes and ears perked up in alertness. You squinted. You'd never seen this wolf before. You were fairly certain of this much; during your time in the woods, you'd learned to distinguish between them pretty well. You learned the little differences -- this one was bigger, this one had a scratch on its ear, this one had a scar on its hip, this one was more brown and this one was more grey, and so on it went. This one was different from all the wolves you'd become familiar with. The wolf sat down, tilting its head at you, tongue lolling out as it panted. It was huge, muscular looking. "Help," you whimpered. As aware as you were that it obviously did not understand, you couldn't think of anything else to do. You flailed a bit in your desperation, and pointed towards the spot where the rope was tied to the tree. "Help me... Come on, please..." The wolf actually followed the line of your pointing, eyes settling on the base of the trap. And, miraculously, moved towards it. Your heart pounded. Did it actually understand? Would it help? It walked over and bit at the rope, shaking its head rapidly in the same way you'd witnessed the wolves kill small prey, or how dogs played with toys. It was helping! You shuddered again, hope burning in your chest, and a tear of relief dripping from your eyes upside-down to the ground below. And if this wolf wasn't from the pack, it wouldn't take you back, right? How, you weren't certain, but the other wolves seemed to understand the... arrangement going on. Many of your escape attempts had been thwarted not by your captor himself, but by the pack -- surrounding you in a circle, barking and growling and snapping at you until you were forced to turn back, even tackling you as you ran, biting your clothes and arms to drag you back. But this wolf would let you go, right? .... Wait a second. Cold dread suddenly made your stomach lurch. This wolf had no reason to help you, and no reason to drag you back. It had every reason to see you as easy prey. Any relief or hope you'd felt was immediately replaced with a chilling rush of panic. Yes, you would be easy prey, right there for the taking. You thrashed about, trying again to reach up and loosen the knot on your foot, but failing. Fuck. You were trapped between two unpleasant options. There was a chance the wolf was just helping, but in the end, it was an animal, not a person, with instincts of goodwill or benevolence. It would follow its instincts. Once you hit the ground, you'd have to run. That was the only solution. But... it also occurred to you only then that you were hanging a good fifteen feet or so in the air. Upside down. What if the fall knocked you out? Hell, what if it broke your legs? What if it broke your spine? If it were Razor himself, he'd lower you down slowly, but the wolf lacked the sense  or ability to do so. You'd just drop. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was a thick coating of leaves on the ground, which would hopefully help, and this part of the forest had soft, clay-like ground rather than hard rock, but nonetheless, it was a long drop. Dammit! Your body wracked with a sob of frustration, anger, and panic. Why did all of this have to happen to you? You'd asked yourself that that plenty of times. You didn't do anything to deserve-- There was a snapping sound. You shrieked as gravity immediately sent you crashing down, world spinning around you, and you collided with the earth with crash that took the breath from your lungs; the sound flooded your ears, echoed as your head went numb. You landed directly on your back, eyes looking up at the trees and the sky beyond then as the world spun around you and your vision darkened. Pain ran through your body on impact, a rough, blunt sort of pain that ached through your flesh and meat and bones. You groaned in pain, teeth clenched as it flooded your senses, trembling as it slowly began to ebb away after the initial blow. The wolf's face popping into your vision sent you jolting back to awareness. It was startling, it's cold wet nose pressing against your own, and after a moment, it lapped its tongue against your face. Panic seized your entire body, and you were frozen, unable to move, not even breathing, eyes wide in terror. And then it licked you again, letting out a soft, tender whine. It was being friendly. You let out a shuddering sigh as relief washed over you again, and you thanked whatever god was looking out for you for granting you your life. "Th-thank you," you murmured, reaching a trembling hand up to pat the wolf's head, wincing at the soreness in your arm. It whined again, bumping its head against yours. Wolves were far, far larger than you were certain most people realized. Back home, you'd always thought that the howls you heard at night from within the safety of Mondstadt's walls were from creatures no bigger than the large hunting dogs you'd seen in Springvale. In reality, that was not the case. Even the smallest of the wolves were massive in comparison to those dogs, their heads easily twice the size of your own. You'd been utterly terrified of them in the beginning, bursting into frightened tears whenever one made its way over to sniff you in their curiosity, or dump an offering of a small creature's carcass at your feet in a show of friendliness (an unsettling experience, no matter how many time you were told it's good, 'cause they like (y/n)), or lick your face in an attempt to show affection. You'd grown used to it with time. But this wolf was even larger than the majority you'd seen, easily thrice your size in every capacity. Likely a loner separated from its pack. You were aware there were sometimes conflicts between the larger, stronger pack males that ultimately ended in the loser leaving the pack and heading off on its own, although it seemed nearly incomprehensible that a wolf of this size would lose to anything. Had it chosen the route of violence, you wouldn't have stood a chance. You laid there for a moment, head spinning as you took deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself down and regain your sense of control over your body. You curled your fingers and toes, flexed the muscles in your arms and legs. You were a bit scraped up and your entire body still ached from the impact, but miraculously, nothing seemed broken. You closed your eyes, feeling the cool evening breeze and the wet tongue that was repeatedly lapping at your face. Finally, after a moment, with a groan at the ache in your body, you pushed yourself upward with your elbows, flipping over to your hands and knees, pulling your leg forward to stand-- The breath was knocked out of you yet again as a massive weight crashed down onto your body. You clawed at the ground, gasping to regain oxygen, body going tense. "Wh-what-" The creature let his bodyweight fall down on your frame, and you grunted as your upper half slammed into the ground. It rendered you entirely immobile, this wolf was both massive and heavy, you could barely breathe under the sheer mass of its body. You struggled to push yourself back up onto your elbows. "H-hey, what are you--" With a whine, it rutted its hips forward. Oh, fuck. "N-no!" You tried to rear up, pushing your upper half upward on your elbows as hard as you could, to no avail. Its weight was crushing. "B-bad! Bad dog! Stop!" You clawed at the dirt, gasping as it thrust again. "Get off!" It only let out the same high, throaty whine, thrusting its hips several times in quick succession, humping your ass with desperation. You could feel its blunt-ended cock digging into the flesh, making your blood run cold. When it rutted forward, the motion hiked your ragged little dress up, bunching up the fabric and exposing your cunt. You whimpered with fear, desperately trying to drag yourself forward. "Stop, stop, get off!" You thrashed again, achieving nothing by the action. The worst part, the dread that was quickly overtaking your thoughts, was that you knew it was futile. You'd learned a long time ago that your resistance would mean nothing, not by the brutal laws of the world outside of the fragile sense of safety human society provided. It was expected. It happened among the wolves themselves all the time -- the mates were not something that were chosen in the same way humans did. Too many times you'd witnessed the ritual -- the males would fight, snarling and growling and lunging at each other until one would give up and run scurrying away, tail tucked between its legs. Growing up with all the knowledge you'd learned from books and what humans generally observed of the animals, you'd always assumed that from that point, the she-wolves would then gladly and willingly copulate with the victor, but, you'd quickly learned, that was not the case. It had shocked you the first few times, your eyes widening and your mouth dropping open as you witnessed the poor females get tackled, mounted, their whimpers as teeth sank into their shoulders and kept them in place. It was brutal, and yet, you'd come to understand and accept it was simply the way things were. Perhaps the part that had shocked you the most was how accepted it was -- the other wolves would simply look on, adjusted to what was normal among them, and the brutalized female would, from that point on, act as a normal mate to what more or less was originally her assailant -- licking and grooming each other, sleeping next to one another, spending time with each other, all as if such a thing made sense. Given the acceptant, compliant state you sometimes found yourself slipping into, you supposed you weren't too different in that way. Because they're strong, you'd been told. Beating the other male and forcibly mating the female herself signified strength. They were supposed to try to run and fight, and the male was supposed to forcibly overpower them, a display of strength, of suitableness as a partner. That was why fighting back didn't matter -- it was supposed to be that way, in the minds of the animals, and thus they were content with that setup. The present moment was anything but content. Another rut of the wolf's hips brought you snapping out of your brief thought, back to the moment at hand. The forest was quiet aside from your own struggling, the last rays of light were fading from the sky, the moon hanging high in place of their light. You let out a shrill, squeaking cry, thrashing with renewed effort, but, predictably, not even budging. "Get off! Get off me! Stop it, bad dog!" No matter how you tried, you couldn't move your body in the slightest, perfectly pinned still. "Fuck..." It let out another whine, not even seeming to notice your struggles, grasping at your shoulder with its teeth, and you feared that if it bit down, it might shatter your shoulder. It rutted forward, and this time you froze, entire body going tense as the blunt head of its cock pressed firmly against your exposed slit. You finally managed to claw at the leaf-covered ground enough to pull yourself forward, if but just an inch -- and the wolf, snarling, thrust its own body forward to push you back into the same position. One of its front paws reached forward and clawed onto your shoulder, and you squealed as it pulled you back, forming a tiny cut in the flesh of your jugular. Your began to nearly hyperventilate, trembling, breaths shallow and quick. "S-stop..." Your plea was defeatedly quiet, realizing that further protest would only hurt you. Tears gathered in your eyes. Your back was bent at an angle under the sheer weight of the furry mass that kept you pinned, and it felt like your very lungs were crushed, breathing quickly becoming difficult. You began to feel your body tingling with numbness. It was so heavy and difficult to breathe you weren't certain you'd even survive if it fucked you. Panic seized your brain, overriding any coherent thought. There was a snarling, growling sort of noise that cut through the surrounding stillness. It wasn't coming from the creature mounted on your body. It didn't sound canid. It was human. Much like the howls, you had learned, with time, how to distinguish between the real and the imitation, those sounds that, no matter how long of a lifetime of practice one had, could simply not match the vocals of another species. The wolf stopped its motions, turning its head, and likewise immediately transitioned its entire demeanor, tensing up and returning the sound, a low snarl, baring its teeth as its snout wrinkled up. It dismounted your body and lowered itself to the ground, hips and shoulders raised as its core sank low, a preparatory stance ready to lunge. You fell forward, face crashing into the leaves, before scrambling upwards and falling back on your ass, propped up with your hands behind you and your knees bent as you froze, unable to move a muscle, eyes open wide and gasping for breath as air burned in your lungs. You could see red-orange eyes glaring in the moonlight from a short distance, and for once, the face of the wolf-boy made a wave of relief come crashing down, rather than panic at being found. He made another low sound in his throat, a snarling growl. His shoulders hunched up in a similar motion to the wolf, baring his teeth, glare locked on the transgressor. He didn't have a weapon on him, so his hands clenched into fists at his side. You'd witnessed this plenty of times in the past by now, but never before with him as one of the participants. The other male wolves within the pack hadn't exactly taken an interest in you, rather, simultaneously accepted you as one of their own, while seeming to recognize you as something of an "other," as they did him. Among them, though, these conflicts were regularly occurring, a constantly shifting hierarchal dynamic that was weighted in blood and pure brute strength. Your heartrate picked up anew. Strong as Razor may be, this thing was massive. And he didn't have his claymore, you remembered he'd left it near the den earlier, before going on his daily routine to check the various animal traps. This wolf could kill him. And given that it wasn't a pack member, it wouldn't hesitate to do so. The wolf took a few heavy steps forward, growling all the while, and the wolf-boy reciprocated the action, a deep low growl in his throat as he stomped forward, fingers curling into a claw-like shape, not exhibiting so much as the slightest hesitation to show aggression against the massive creature. You tried to stand on your shaking legs, but fell on your ass again. "W-wait, no, r-run," you stammered, words spewing out of your mouth before you could process them, "he'll hurt you--" Your vision went white, bright light exploded all around, a crashing, booming sort of sound cutting off your words. There was a heat to it that you could feel on your skin, but it blinded your vision, leaving you blinking as, in a mere moment, the electric energy faded to a purplish glow that sparked with a buzz in the palm of his hand. The wolf leaped back in terrified shock, immediately flattening its ears, turning and tucking its tail between its legs, scrambling with fear into the darkness of the trees. And just like that, the threat was gone. You were left slack-jawed, mouth hanging open, trembling and panting as you watched it disappear, footsteps growing quieter and quieter until they could no longer be heard. Instead, the leaves to your side crunched in a two-legged pattern as the figure drew closer, and then dropped down to his knees to get on a face-to-face level. You turned your head and your eyes met. His eyes were wide and pupils blown even wider, mouth slightly open, looking you over. His eyes had always had a softness to them, full of light. After a moment, he reached up, slowly, and wiped the tears from your eyes, a soft, unthinking gesture, and leaned forward. He nuzzled his face against yours, and, after a moment, licked a few quick, short laps up the side of your face. It was nothing you weren't very well used to, and you merely sat numbly as he did so. His eyes trailed downward, widening as they met the gash that had been created on your neck by the massive wolf's claws, and he leaned forward again, lapping at your skin. You inhaled a sharp breath at the sting of his tongue on the wound, but you knew it actually was helpful in terms of clotting, so you didn't resist. You sat like that for a moment, silent, still, letting him clean up the wound, saliva naturally helping the healing process. It was bizarrely intimate in its own way, but it certainly wasn't the first time he'd helped in that way with a wound. It stopped stinging after a moment, blood clotting under the wet warmth. He pulled his head back, looking over you again as if to ascertain your unharmed state, eyes wide and expression flat, looking directly at your face - your weary face, trembling lip, expression still uneasy from the remaining shock. "You... Okay?" There was a softness to his face, a wide-eyed look of innocent concern. You did your best to nod. Any hope you'd had left had been crushed at some point in the adrenaline of the encounter, and thus, all chances of escaping gone, defeat and weariness washed over your body, and you slumped forward in exhaustion. Of course, he was unaware of and most likely did not even consider why you suddenly fell against him, he tended to take any action you made at face value and accepted it as simply what it was, and likewise, every action he made was easily interpreted the same way. It was, you sometimes consoled yourself, a rather welcome simplicity in contrast to the hidden and subtle meanings that humans often portrayed through their actions, and you never had to worry about an innocent action being misinterpreted maliciously, nor did you worry that your emotions were too transparent in your actions. Instead, he merely seemed pleased by the gesture, eagerly wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling your closer, rubbing his head up and down so the sides of your faces nuzzled together, squeezing you tightly. "I heard you," he said, a cheerful sort of pride in his voice. "Came to help." You swallowed. "Th-thank you..." As much as his sudden appearance crushed any chance you had of reaching Springvale, you couldn't help but feel a genuine relief, even gratitude, for saving you from what would have undoubted been a highly painful and traumatizing experience, if you'd survived the lack of oxygen. Not that you weren't already getting your fair share of traumatizing experiences out here, but, well, none quite like what your experience would have been had he not shown up. After a still, silent moment of embrace, he released you, shifted and stood up, but then suddenly tensed, and his eyes widened with what seemed like surprise, or perhaps realization, mouth opening slightly. His eyes were cast downward, settled on the cord that was still tightly tied around your ankle, and reached down to loosen the knot, slipping it off and tossing the remaining cord to the side. You made a small sound as if to start speaking, but cut off and fell silent, shutting your mouth. And then, as he came back up, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and processing, mouth slightly open as he looked a bit to one side, then the other, to you, and up to the tree from which you'd hung. The wheels were turning. Finally, after a moment, it seemed to click, his eyes went wide with realization for a split second before he turned his head back towards you and narrowed his eyes in a glare. His "angry" face had always been a bit difficult to take seriously, he had maintained a baby face despite his age, big eyes and soft features making it look like more of a pout than anything, but in time you'd learned the rightful amount of fear to have at seeing it. Your heart sank in your chest. "You ran away again." His voice was a bitter, grumpy mumble. You'd feared that when you noticed the surprising lack of anger up until a few moments ago. That it hadn't yet clicked with him, until now, exactly why you were out here, how you got out here, in the first place. He might have thought the larger wolf had dragged you out here, or, perhaps more likely, it had not crossed his mind at all in the intensity of the previous moments, too focused on conflict and comfort. "I..." You trailed off, trembling. There was a moment of silence. You couldn't exactly argue against it. It was true that he was rather gullible, and would often believe rather ridiculous excuses or explanations that anyone else would never buy, but there were limits to that, and at the present moment, you couldn't think of any excuse that even he would believe. Even if the wolf had come in to drag you away, the she-wolf set to guard you would have made a noise to alert the others, and he knew that. There was a moment of silence, and, not receiving any objection to his claim, he exhaled a frustrated huff through his nostrils. "I'm mad." As nice as it was that you didn't have to worry about being misinterpreted, another pro to your situation was that your captor was easily the most transparent person you'd ever met, bluntly honest, so much so it sometimes worked against him. You were pretty sure he couldn't be indirect or subtle with his words if he tried. Passive-aggressiveness or anything of the sort was foreign. "I'm sorry," you murmured, hoping to ease his anger, but you knew by now those words didn't really hold any meaning to him. He opened his mouth, that same pout on his face, and took a breath as if to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth, looking at the ground for a moment, opened again, repeated the process, and again, before roughly shaking his head, head hanging and expression falling to something like irritation and disappointment. With other people, you'd feel more intimidated by silence, silence meant someone was angry and trying to get under your skin. And while he made no attempt to hide being angry, you knew the silence wasn't an intentional passive-aggressive act, but rather, just lacking the proper words. It was a process you went through frequently, and to some degree, you felt bad for him. Having feelings, having complex thoughts, but lacking the knowledge or ability to articulate them, being unable to adequately express what you thought and felt, limited to such simple terms as sad and mad, words that could only convey incredibly simple feelings... you could only imagine how frustrating that would be. He knew that those words weren't enough, but didn't have any other ones to use. You understood why, then, he grunted in frustration, kicking at the ground, sending a few leaves scattering. But you also knew that if he could not express himself with words, actions would have to suffice. You knew better than to expect any different. This routine, despite its variances in the specifics of how the events went down, went like clockwork from this point onward, the moment of defeat. They say humans are, after all, creatures of habit. You nonetheless let out a little surprised sound at the suddenness with which you were lifted by the armpits, quickly moved a few steps to the side and unceremoniously pushed forward, facing one of the many boulders that dotted the forest floor. Instinctively, releasing an exhale of defeat and acceptance, braced yourself against it, hands pressed into the rock. You were technically standing, but leaning far forward, bodyweight resting mostly onto the rock you were bending over on. His front pressed against you, hand pushing your back down into an arch, latching arms around your waist. There was no hesitation, no preparation, merely pulling the fabric of your dress up with one swift motion, and the waist of his pants down in another, all in a matter of a single moment, and rutting against you, once, twice, cock slipping against your folds, and on the third thrust, it actually slid in, pushing about halfway in with harsh force with no warning. You gasped at the sting, clawing at the rock as your face twisted with the slight pain, but his hand gripped hard on your shoulder. "Stay... Still." It was honestly impressive, you sometimes thought, to manage to get a cock inside you so easily with hip angling alone. He'd never thought to use his hands to do so, you guessed due to merely mimicking what he observed, as all humans did. Nonetheless, you let out a mewl at the feeling of friction against your walls as it dragged, pulling out a bit before slamming back in. Then again, faster. And again, faster still. And finally, setting into a rhythm, quick and harsh, your body lurching forward at the force. Defeat and despond had fully set in, and you made no movement to fight back, instead attempting to ease the discomfort by pushing back with the thrusts. And then, after a moment, it stopped. It often did -- again, a set pattern, a routine. Increasingly often these days, he changed his mind at this point, initially going with the instinctive, natural option, but it would take a moment to remember that there was an alternative. You shuddered at the sliding feeling and emptiness as he pulled back out, but even though you braced yourself, the air was knocked out of you as you were flipped over, back hitting the rock -- and this time aching as the bruising flesh from the earlier fall was hit again -- now leaning your weight onto the rock on your back, facing forward. The roughness with which you were tossed about and maneuvered was, you knew, not intentional, nor out of malice, but it always left you disoriented as your vision spun a bit. And it was only a single second before you were filled again, gasping a deep breath and reaching your hands out to claw at his back as you felt yourself stretched apart all in one motion, and your legs fell into the routine position of hooking over his arms. He liked it this way. The human way, he called it, with you on your back in some form rather than on your hands and knees, facing him rather than turning away, which had been the only way you'd done it -- you supposed the only way he had been familiar with -- for a good while. You'd introduced the position once when your arms and legs were exhausted from strain, and, perhaps to your relief, it became the most common way that the routine went down. You supposed that, deep down, no matter the way in which a person was raised, there were certain innate needs and instincts that could not be overridden, woven into the very biology of a person. For humans, intimacy, the feeling of affection, and you supposed that that itch was met for him more adequately this way. And he liked to mimic normal behaviors in that regard. You recalled a time ago, back before you were brought out here for good, the wide-eyed fascination with which he'd watch passing couples of people on the road and streets, would make an attempt to imitate the same actions, albeit lacking in the same gentleness, technique, or appropriate timing. Reaching out to grab and hold your hand (with a crushing grip) as you walked, awkwardly pressing your mouths together (so firmly that your teeth clacked and your jaw hurt). That, at least, had gotten better. Now, it was somewhat gentle, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours. Gentle, but still very awkward, lacking in the rhythmic motions with which you'd expect, more like holding still but pressing firmly against you, but lapping a quick lick to your lips. You could taste blood on his lips and tongue, a permanent coppery taste that never went away. That didn't last long. It was hard to maintain the mouth contact when he started rutting into you, causing your body to rock in jerking motions up and down on the surface, and his face buried itself into your shoulder, panting shallow breaths that were warm against your flesh. And again, like clockwork, you knew how the issue of your body rocking back and forth, disrupting the rhythm, would be solved, and you inhaled as you braced yourself, first for the tightening grip of arms around your waist, and then-- You gasped a sharp breath despite your mental preparation as teeth sunk into your jugular, opposite the one with the injury, further locking your bodies together. He growled, a low throaty sound. Teeth gnawed at your shoulder before releasing and sinking down in a different spot, digging into the flesh just short of the force it would take to break it. You cursed whichever god thought it would be funny to give him abnormally sharp canines. Even with your weight leaning against the rock, a good portion of it was still being supported by his arms, which, with any normal human being, you would hope would cause enough strain to perhaps slow down the actual thrusting, but you knew better by now. Nor did you expect any kind of buildup or anything, no, you gritted your teeth at the immediate fast pace that dragged against your insides, raw and with little fluid to lessen the friction. The quickness and suddenness always left you sore, your internal parts not having enough time or stimulation to expand or prepare, so each thrust that slammed into the top of your insides sparked a shock of pain and pleasure sensation so strong your entire body jolted with the feeling. The bruising soreness of the recent abuse to the same spot -- how many times earlier today, three, four? -- heightened the sensitivity. And, as with the rest of the routine, you didn't expect words. You couldn't blame him -- talking was hard enough when he was focused, you imagined it was much harder when preoccupied with sensation, and with less blood in the brain. It also made sense that he didn't seem to process anything you said either -- any slow down or wait fell on deaf ears, or rather, non-comprehending ears. Eventually you, too, fell into the same state- "I-- hah, ah, w-wait, mnn-" -- unable to form words, unable to take in anything around you, pure sensation clouding your brain of any and all thoughts. You heard your own little cries ring out and echo through the empty forest, and soft, pleasured whines in your ear, hot breath from panting that grew faster and faster as the thrusts became more erratic and harder, slamming in and out, the wet, slapping sound ringing out with your own voice. It pushed against all the right spots, stretching you incomprehensibly full, overloading your brain with the feeling, and the harder your nails sank into his back, the harder his teeth bit down into your neck. The sparks of pain from the feeling felt small, distant, erased by the overwhelming good feeling created by adrenaline and pleasure, and the thought of how badly it would hurt later was the furthest thing from your mind in the moment. And because you knew words meant nothing in the heat of these moments, you had learned that announcing or warning for orgasm didn't matter. Neither of you needed words -- as with many things, you could communicate it without them just fine. He could still sense it, the way you clenched and your hands grasped at his hair and raked down his spine, and in response, the thrusting somehow grew harder and faster still. A perfect and clearly understood communication as clear as any verbal exchange. The squealing you made, the way your body spasmed and your back arched, was better than anything you could have said, really. You weren't... actually fully certain he understood the action as anything other than communication, like a message indicating "cum now." You assumed that was what it meant to him, since, as always, you felt the movement stop, panting as he pushed into your one more time, holding your hips as close as possible as you felt a twitching inside. It was always perfectly coordinated like that. The peak was always too short, always that same burst of feeling that you wished could last just a moment longer, leaving you panting. Heavy breaths in and out, shuddering, sweaty flesh clinging to each other. You could feel the arms that held your legs up shaking with aftershock, forehead falling to rest against the spot between the mounds of your chest. Then, after a moment, a nuzzle, slowly rubbing a cheek against your collarbones. As soon as that stopped, his head popped up again, looking up at your face with those same wide amber eyes, soft and somehow, despite everything, they always seemed so innocent and bright. A curious, but fairly neutral, content sort of wide-eyed gaze. Anger resolved. Sometimes you were grateful it was that easy. "Ok. You're... good, now." You understood without needing it explained. "Good" indicated something along the lines of fixed or resolved, the phrase "you're good" indicating, in this context, resolution. You assumed it had originated from listening to others in some context or another. You swallowed, and nodded. There was no point in fighting now. A sort of numbing aftershock had set in, and your head was spinning so much that even if you ran, you might fall over on your own without the inevitable tackling. It was a struggle for another day... the same conclusion this always, always resulted in, a conclusion you reached more and more quickly each time, but you tried to put the concern that thought sparked away, merely standing on trembling legs. "...Stupid hunting trap," you muttered, giving the remains of cord a kick into the leaves. He tilted his head and made a soft hm? of confusion. "Th-the trap," your voice was raspy. "They laid out traps for - for catching animals, the hunters, you know." He blinked for a moment as he processed your words, then shook his head, but smiled, beaming with pride. "Mm-nn, I made it. Put lots of them around here." You squinted, head jerking up to scan the treeline - sure enough, now that you looked closer, you could see several treetops dotted with similar nets full of scraps set to make a sound when triggered and struggled against. In fact, the more you gazed around, you realized there were easily dozens and dozens of similar traps, some of different styles and shapes, all perfectly lining the edge of the woods before the road. "...You won't catch things like that," you muttered. "It's too close to the end of the woods." Another slightly confused stare. He shook his head. "Traps are... for you." You could always count on him for two things. Undying loyalty, and obtuse honesty. You blinked at him, expression flat in blunt surprise, then, with a crooked smile, you let out a single huff of bitter, tired laughter. You were numbed to the point that you were, at the very least, able to recognize the humor of it all. Another way of coping, perhaps. It only occurred to you then, as your thoughts cleared, how relief had washed over you when the lone wolf had run out into the night, but your mind had not been focused on your own violation. You remembered your words. Run, he'll hurt you. Your only concern in that moment had been his safety. The thought set off some sort of alarm bell in your head, but the utter exhaustion made it difficult to place much concern in anything.

Your legs were trembling in aftershock, numb and heavy, but it wasn't as if that mattered. Even as you briefly put a hand to the stone beside you to lean your weight onto in an effort to stand, you knew you wouldn't be walking anyway, that wasn't part of the routine. And sure enough, as you got about halfway upward, arms wrapped around your waist instead, and you were roughly maneuvered, tossed like a ragdoll, knocking the breath out of you as you were tossed over his shoulder. "Okay, we're going home, now." He started taking a few heavy steps forward, not even struggling in the slightest to carry your full bodyweight, instead walking as if you were light as air. You didn't protest. You slumped over defeatedly, merely casting your gaze all around, trying desperately to memorize the locations of at least a few of the traps in the dark, but knowing full well in the back of your mind you'd never get past them all. No matter how you may outsmart them, you could never win. It occurred to you that, in a way, you were the one falling for the same trick over and over, continuously placing a ridiculous hope in escape and falling for your own foolishness time and time again. Perhaps that made you a bit more like the animals than you liked to admit.

[kittyymew]

Overstimulation- Part 4

Link to- Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Tagging- @junseonghao

**

"What the fuck brat. That's the hottest thing I've ever seen... fuck this. I'm going to fuck your brains out and I am going to make you squirt again..."

**

Levi doesn't even wait for your response and he holds your legs wide open and pushes his length inside you, his cock barely going halfway through, even with all the lube. You groan, your legs trying to close subconsciously. Levi lets out a grunt and you can see him trying his best to not lose control.

"So fucking tight... even after all that..." Levi says as he forces your legs open and pushes in deeper until he's all the way inside. He immediately starts thrusting his hips, moving in and out of your pussy hard and fast. You moan looking up at him and see his gaze focused on your pussy, you blush realizing just how exposed you are right now.

"G-god! Le- I mean... Sir fuck!" You moan, Levi looks up at you and grins.

"Yes, brat?" He says as he leans down, your legs now basically over his shoulders as he continues pounding into your pussy. Levi lets go of your legs and rests them on either side of your head.

You squirm as his cock keeps going in deep inside you at a steady pace, you gasp and moan, unable to move much because of the position you're in. You've still not recovered from the Rabbit vibrator and here's Levi, pounding the fuck out of you.

"You're gonna cum again aren't you brat?" Levi asks as he leans down and kisses your neck. All you can do is moan in response as your pussy clenching harder around his length.

"Good girl... go ahead..." Levi says and bites down on your neck and sucking on your neck teasingly.

You moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cum for the 7th time. This time, all your squirms and movements are restricted by Levi who is on top of you. He continues pounding into you, instead of just slowing his pace.

"S-sir... I..." you cannot even form proper words at this point. It's just you moaning and struggling to breathe and screaming 'Sir' and 'Levi'. Levi doesn't even care anymore that you're calling him Levi instead of sir.

Levi moves, pulling his length all the out to the tip before slamming it back into you, hard. You yelp and moan, your orgasm building up again, and before you can process it, you're cumming hard again around Levi's cock.

He continues to move his length in and out of you at the same pace along with kissing and bite your neck leaving a few hickeys as you ride out your high. Just as you think he's going to continue to pound into you, he pulls out.

"I- what? Why??" you ask, your breathing still shallow.

"Well, I want to try something. Do you trust me?" Levi asks, his face going serious for a moment.

"O-of course I do..." you say, confused by his question.

"Good. Now turn around again" Levi commands. You just lay there looking up at him. You want to move but your body is still recovering from your last orgasm. Levi seems to understand within a moment and he leans down grabbing your hips and flipping you over with ease.

Levi grabs your ass cheeks caressing them before giving each one a light smack. "Ow!" you almost yell.

"Shh brat!" Levi says before I could say anything further. He squeezes your ass and spreads them, pausing for a moment. "You remember our safe word?" Levi asks.

You nod in response. "What is it?" Levi asks again.

"Bubbles..." you reply and Levi just hums in response.  You feel his length press up against your ass. You squirm and let out a small gasp at the realization. He slowly starts pushing his length inside your ass. You yelp and bite down on your tongue as he slowly stretches your ass.

Levi continues pushing deeper. You whimper and wiggle your butt. Levi grunts and grabs your hips tightly, his fingers digging hard in your skin, you're pretty sure that it's going to leave a few bruises on your hips.

Levi manages to push his cock almost all the way inside. He leans down, propping himself on top of you with his left arm. "God so fucking tight!" Levi grunts in your ear before biting down on your shoulder, his right hand still holding a strong grip on your hip.

"Mmm..." you moan in response, adjusting to his length in your ass. "Sir please..." you beg.

"Please what brat?" Levi says smacking your ass with his right hand.

"Ahh- P-please m..move sir..." you say, blushing at the fact that you want Levi to fuck your ass.

"As you please," Levi says, slowly pulling out and pushing his cock back in your ass at a slow pace. Both of you let out a groan simultaneously. He goes in and out of you a few times at a slow pace, letting both of you adjust to the new feeling.

After a few thrusts, Levi starts picking up his pace, he moves his right hand around your hips and starts rubbing your clit. You gasp and try to pull his hand away, as much as your restricted hands were able to.

"L-LEVI Oh GOd!! Noo!" you protest. "Try stopping me and I'll make you cum 8 more times!" Levi grunts, threatening you. You let out another moan as he continues rubbing your clit and you stop trying to pull his hand away, you just grab onto his wrists tightly, your nails digging into his skin as you try your best to not scream.

Levi just smirks and thrusts deeper into your ass, while rubbing your clit rapidly. You squeal closing your eyes tightly, your nails digging deeper into his skin as Levi continues fucking your ass.

You squirm, your head falling backward on Levi's chest as you let out a loud scream/ moan as you cum again, your body convulsing and shivering, although Levi doesn't slow down.

Levi picks up his pace, pounding faster and harder in your ass, you can feel his muscles and cock twitching, meaning he was about to cum too. But instead of just thrusting into you, Levi continues rubbing your clit along with his hard thrusts.

"P-PLEASE FUCKING GOD!" you scream, squirming, your body still convulsing like crazy and your mouth hanging open.

"One more time brat... I am close too..." Levi grunts, not slowing down whatsoever. You cannot even process what he's saying and you start cumming again, and you just scream and moan as you cum hard, you feel some liquid run down your thighs and make a mess on Levi's bed.

"God Fuck!" Levi grunts and with one final deep, hard thrust, Levi cums in your ass. Levi just plops down on top of you, both of you panting and out of breath.

"Shit," Levi mutters after a few moments.

"What?" you ask looking up at him over your shoulder.

"I didn't get to watch you squirt the second time!" Levi says as he sits up and immediately turns you around on your back and he starts rubbing your clit again.

"AH- FUCK NO!" you scream out, your body jerking and spasming just at the slightest touch.

Levi just grabs your ankles pulling you closer and continues to rub your clit. "BUBBLES!!" you scream out. At that Levi stops immediately looking up at you wide-eyed.

You look at Levi with pleading eyes, you can barely feel your lower body at this point.

"Oh damn you really cannot..." Levi mumbles dumbfounded.

He quickly reaches forward and un-cuff your hands. " Did I go too far?" He asks looking at you worried. You shake your head and pull him in closer pecking his lip.

"I didn't realise you'd be that kinky... sir," you say grinning up at him.

"Shut up, brat!" Levi says laughing. "But on the bright side, I now know you're probably just as dirty as me, AND you'll get to brag about the things I do to your dirty little bratty ass to your little friends without being embarrassed about me or our sex life...." Levi continues.

"Embarrassed? About you? or our sex life? Excuse me what?" You look up at him shocked.

"Levi, God! You fucking idiot! I was not embarrassed about the fact that you made me cum just twice! I was blushing because I kept thinking about you..." You pause to look at Levi and he is just staring at you with his eyebrow raised.

"I kept thinking about you... NAKED..."  you admit, your face turning red again. Levi's expressions turn into a smirk and he laughs again.

"Well, my bad I guess... although I have zero regrets!" He says and you just laugh with him shaking your head.

"Well help me clean up now, I can barely move my body and we have training at 8 tomorrow!" you say as Levi just leans in pecking your lips.

"You mean I got training with the other brats tomorrow. You cannot even move how do you expect to practice?" Levi says with a smug grin on his face.

"Shut up just help me right now!"

"Yes yes sheesh. The only place you're allowed to talk to me like that is in the bedroom and you make sure you make full use of that opportunity! Fucking Brat!" Levi says laughing as he gets up and helps you clean up.

"Well but you still like me!" You say grinning. "That I do you brat!" Levi says smiling like a goof, making sure you don't see him smiling and blushing like that.

Levi helps you clean up and you spend the night in his room as he cuddles you and caresses your sore ass and muscles gently until you fall asleep.

*******

Hello loves, this was the end of the 'Overstimulation' chapters and I hope the ending did not disappoint you.

[thera-daydreams]

PLUS ONE

》 A TRESE TWOSHOT 《

[Maliksi x Reader]

📝 Summary: In which your beloved best friend snatches you from your apartment at dawn asking you to be his plus one for his cousin's wedding. Unbeknownst to the clueless you, everything is just going according to Maliksi's ultimate masterplan. With the help of friends and family, the Prince of the Tikbalang finally gets the girl he's been longing for. And oh, Señor Armanaz gets his dream daughter-in-law and the promise of grandchildren within the year.

📌 Warning: May contain some slight NSFW for spicy suggestiveness and cussing. No smut or anything super SPG—this girl can't write that for her life—but just be prepared. It's Maliksi we're talking about. We've got friends-to-lovers, obliviousness, pining, fluff, and a tikbalang simp. Figure it out. 😃

(word count: 7,454) ♥︎ Part Two: ?

》 AUTHOR'S NOTE 《

Not an Inday spinoff, but a lengthy oneshot in celebration of this blog getting 90 followers. Just ten more to 100, yay! Thank you so much for the love and support, everyone. I also promised that I'll be making this brainrot that @binibiningbabaylan and I have fangirled over a few days ago (find the original post here) when I finished the latest chapter of Inday. Here it is! 🥰

Before I forget, I was also inspired by the cute fic made by @crispybasil titled "Sunshowers" and the "Trese Boys As Things My Guy Friends Do" made by the amazing @smolla-than-a-bug (I bow down to your wonderful works in the Trese fandom). I definitely see Maliksi to be the type to go on spontaneous roadtrips and be the boyfriend to drive you around eveeeerywhere (while also driving you crazy). 🚘

There are also some songs mentioned throughout this work. You should probably listen to them while reading for the full experience. Ending was somewhat rushed but eh, I'm too exhausted and I've rewritten it too many times. Also, if someone makes some actual tikbalang smut, tag me please. Anyways, enjoy! 💕

The way it all started was hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious. It happened like a blur. Literally. One second, you were snoozing in your bed. The next? You had a seatbelt on in the shotgun seat of a sophisticated-looking car. Your brain didn't even get to process it yet.

"... So let me get this straight," you grumbled, still half-asleep from your sleep marathon. You just finished a hugely successful project at work yesterday, got promoted, and wanted to make up for the restless nights you spent overtime in the office. Of course you were irritated from being disturbed. You were on vacation leave for two entire weeks, originally planning to go into temporary isolation by deactivating your social media accounts and reserving a beach cabana for yourself in Batangas.

Well, turns out, you weren't going to Batangas anytime soon. All because your unreasonably spontaneous bestfriend of ten hectic years stole you from your apartment at 2AM. Was this considered kidnapping? Was this him just being more in touch with his tikbalang side, taking unsuspecting women in their sleep and leading them to their inevitable death? (He was going over the speed limit, so it was a valid thought.) Will wearing your shirt inside-out save you today? Lord, masyado ka pang pagod para mag-isip ngayon.

"Go on."

"You abducted picked me up in the middle of the night because you want me to be your plus one at your cousin's wedding in Tagaytay?"

"Yup. And technically, the venue is right on the outskirts of Cavite going to Tagaytay," he corrected you as a matter-of-factly.

"Same thing, whatever," you huffed tiredly. "Your cousin's wedding is at 6AM today. In a few hours. In four hours."

"Uh-huh."

You groaned exasperatedly, "Mal naman, eh! You didn't even let me bring anything. Could've at least given me a heads-up a few hours ago. I'm practically emptyhanded right now save for my phone! Sinungaling ka, you said this was just a normal midnight drive—not a freaking wedding!"

The Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang, son of the Great Stallion, heir to the Armanaz herd, and the Top Drag Racer of C-5 Expressway—if that was even one of his Game of Thrones-like titles—grinned as he continued driving beside you. He let you continue ranting in the passenger seat while he mulled over his ultimate masterplan that would change his entire life later on. He was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, so all this wasn't his thing. But for you? He'll make plans, alright.

"Wala man lang akong dinalang masusuot o kahit konting makeup para maging presentable sa harapan ng buong pamilya mo," you exclaimed, in absolute despair. "Do you know how out of my league you are? Your rich-ass family might judge me—hell, your dad might see me as a hampaslupa if I show up there in my pambahay and tsinelas!"

"Psh, I'm not out of your league," Maliksi waved it off, smoothly turning a corner. "And calm down. We've known each other for a decade! My dad practically loves you as his own daughter. Heck, the entire family knows you and keeps telling me they want you adopted in already. Lolo Andres and Lola Perlita said they'd have the paperwork settled. You just need to sign them."

It would be even better (and easier) if you married into the family. To him, specifically (as if he'd let anyone else have you). God, he was already being so obvious in his advances, but you were just so damn oblivious whenever it came to romance. None of this needed to happen if you just got it through your thick skull that he was madly in love with you.

"That's not the point, idiot!" you slumped back into your seat, hopeless. "Do you think the bride and the groom will get offended? Shit, baka masumpaan ako kung magagalit sila, Mal. Mukha akong patay galing sa South Cemetery."

The long-haired tikbalang rolled his eyes, "Huwag kang mag-alala. Nothing's going to go wrong. Chill ka lang diyan. I've got everything under control, babe."

Babe. Yes, he even called you babe but you thought it was him being a himbo and a massive flirt. Now, it was his common term of endearment for you, but you still assumed it was him just being irksome to you and that you couldn't stop the man from saying it anymore. Thus, you let it be (the most obvious hint of his attraction to you, bestie).

"... Ugh, why didn't you ask Hannah or Amie to go with you?"

He just smiled knowingly, shrugging and making up an excuse, "Nagmamadali ako, eh. Hannah and Amie are also coming, but they already have the other tikbalang as dates."

"'Luh, ako pala ang backup choice mo?"

"Heh. Whatever you want to think."

Little did you know that you were always his first choice. Always. Even when he pursued Alexandra Trese many years ago, trying to convince himself you were just his best friend, it was always you. How did he come to that realization? Well, an international band he was a fan of released a song a couple years ago and he heard it being played in a club in BGC. The song title?

It Was Always You by Maroon 5.

Needless to say, after hearing the song and being unable to get it—get you—out of his mind at night, he stopped courting Alexandra. Unfortunately for him, that time, you'd started dating other men. Therefore, he was left on the sidelines... until your latest and most painful breakup, at least. That was five years ago. You still hadn't dated anyone since then, kind of traumatized from getting into another failed relationship like that.

In the present day, as if the fates were playing on you two, one of your favorite artists played on the radio. A very ironic song given the situation you two were in.

Best Friend by Rex Orange County.

Maliksi knew it was a favorite of yours. He knew it by the way your eyes lit up like a star brightening the twinkling night sky. Like the sun first rising in the morning at Apolaki's command. Like the moon extending its gentle rays from the magic of Mayari herself. If there was anything he wanted to ask of the old gods, it was you—everything else be damned.

"I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake," you half-sang and half-screamed happily, somewhat out-of-tune. "I can't wait to be your number oooooone! I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine—"

Maliksi glanced at you, not minding that his eardrums were probably getting microscopic ruptures from your aggressive singing. As much as he wanted to stare at you all day, he had to keep his eyes on the road. But the lyrics you were singing were wrong; the Prince of the Tikbalang was already yours from day one.

"Babe, McDo drive-through tayo for breakfast. Let me make it up to you. Gusto mo ng caramel sundae for your promotion gift? Sige. Ako bahala. Chicken nuggets din? Mabubusog ka ba niyan? I don't think they serve those this early..."

》》》

"Sandali lang!" you shouted out from inside an empty room. You'd just arrived at the venue—the Alta Veranda de Tibig in Silang, Cavite (practically the gateway to Tagaytay)—an hour or so ago. The hired makeup artist just left so that you could privately change into the outfit that had been bought specifically for you. Curse Mal and his ability to buy anything (perhaps anyone) he wanted. "Bwiset, Mal, you didn't tell me we'd be part of the damn entourage. We have to be walking the aisle in thirty minutes, simbako! You just love rushing me, don't you!?"

If only you were the one walking down the aisle today towards him.

When you exited the room, Maliksi couldn't help but let his jaw drop as he skimmed your figure, clad in the luxurious, silky satin blush midi dress he bought in one of those fancy stores in Makati yesterday. He imagined that it would look great on you, but now, seeing it on you in person... you looked divine (and frankly, he wanted to see it off your body to see what was underneath—but don't get too ahead of yourself, Mal). It was a whole 'nother level from his imagination. The deep cowl neckline and thin spaghetti straps showed your lovely collarbones... as well as a peek of your cleavage. His favorite and the best part of it all? It was backless, allowing him to gaze at the tempting curve of your spine.

He hadn't realized he had grown silent until you smiled and closed his mouth, tapping his chin.

"Lalangawin ang bibig mo, Mal," you laughed softly. Never had you seen him so speechless. You then flicked your hair back, ridiculously posing for him like you were on the cover of Vogue magazine (haba ng hair mo, gurl!). "Do I look that good? Char lang."

"... You look absolutely ravishing—I mean, uh, stunning. Hot. Yeah." That was all he could say. He mentally punched himself for not showering you with more suave compliments.

Still, your face brightened up, not knowing that the man in front of you just fell for you a thousand times harder, "Wow! Really? Damn. Ang galing talaga ng MUA na kinuha mo, ginawa akong artista. Give me their contact number later! May work event pa naman ako in two months. I'm shocked, it's like they made me rise from the dead! Even my eyebags are gone, Mal! How'd they do that?" Heck yeah, your confidence was boosted. He offered his arm to you like a gentleman, making you half-heartedly roll your eyes (you took it anyway). From holding it alone, you could tell that your best friend was a sinewy man (well, you knew that already after seeing his tikbalang form before—the little shit didn't even wear a loincloth like all his clanmates; your poor eyes were eternally scarred).

You looked him up and down. You wouldn't lie—Maliksi is and always has been an attractive man. Now? With his hair in a ponytail (pun not intended), definitely one of the hunkiest men you've ever known. "You're not looking too bad yourself, horsey."

"Ako pa!" He puffed his chest out in pride. You chuckled at his reaction.

"By the way, how do you even know my dress size and my shoe size?"

"Babe, I've known you too long. You know almost everything about me, I know everything about you."

You snorted at his confident tone, "'Di nga? You don't know every single thing about me, Mal. Assuming ka masyado."

"Alam ko nga anong cup size mo. Wala lang 'yang shoe and dress size."

You slapped his shoulder, cheeks quickly flushing red, "Huy, umayos ka! Walang hiyang tikbalang na 'to." With this guy as your best friend? You heard dirty jokes at least once a day. "Don't be inappropriate here!"

"What? It's only fair I know!" He looked down on you suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You already know I always go commando, so of course I know that your bra is a size—"

"Shhh! Baka marinig ka, 'nyeta."

"So? Let them hear. My best friend has a nice set of melons!" he shouted. You were grateful there was no one around. Hopefully.

"Oh my God..."

Your best friend chortled at how flustered you'd become. He led you to where some of his family was waiting, with a couple of his relatives already greeting you. You instantly and quite easily mingled with them, your worries of them not accepting you far from even true (they all knew how much their prince loved the innocent you).

"Kayo na talaga, pare?" one of his older tikbalang clanmates asked while you went away to be fawned over by his aunts.

Maliksi chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched you from afar, "Heh. Hindi pa."

Another one of his clanmates—a younger one—laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "Talaga? That's cap, bro. You two are like a married couple already and you guys still aren't a thing?"

"Ilang taon na ba kayong magkakaibigan?" the older one asked him.

"Almost ten years," Maliksi responded, a smile unconsciously pulling his lips up as he remembered your moments together. He watched you converse with his female relatives (who adored you the moment Maliksi brought you to a family event many moons ago).

The two tikbalang snickered as they saw the look on the Great Stallion's heir.

"You're down bad," the younger one said, snapping a photo of his lovestruck kuya. "You've got it so bad for her, dudeparechong!"

"Balak mong ligawan anytime soon?" the older tikbalang inquired.

"Heh. Balak ko na ngang pakasalan. Kung pwede, ngayon."

They looked at Maliksi as if he was crazy. He was very much serious, though, even if there was a huge, lopsided smile on his face. The Prince of the Tikbalang raised a brow at them.

"What? Don't give me that look. Our ten years of being best friends is practically the courting and the dating stage already."

"Eh... you're right. Don't waste anymore time. Go and marry her today, dude. Suporta kami sa'yo, basta groomsmen kami sa kasal niyo, ha!"

"Ge. Without question."

Meanwhile, on your end with the ladies of the family, they started pestering you on your love life (like all typical Filipino aunties). Chismis everywhere.

"O, iha, single ka pa ba?"

"Kailan ka magpapakasal? Malapit ka nang pumasok sa thirties mo."

"Do you want kids? How many?"

"Are you and Maliksi a couple? You look good together! Kayo na, 'di ba?"

"Will you be getting married next? Are you engaged? When's the wedding? Invite niyo kami!"

Before you could get overwhelmed by their questions, Maliksi swept you off your feet to lead you to the entourage that was lining up outside the chapel area. Again, it happened like a blur. He laughed at the partially nauseated look on your face.

"You okay there?" he asked, grinning.

"Your family thinks we're together," you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes. You weren't sure why you felt... tingly about their statements.

He tilted his head at you curiously, gently setting you down on your feet and helping you stand.

"Do you hate the idea?" It hurt him to ask you the question, but he wanted your thoughts on it. Perhaps doing this was a bad idea. Maliksi was competitive in many things, including wanting you to be his, but if you were so opposed to it, he would never force you into something you didn't want. He let go of your hand; you didn't even notice he'd been holding it until he let go. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Your wide-eyed gaze snapped back to look up at him, "No! No, it's not that! And... it's not bad." Your hand felt strangely empty now that his was gone. Biting your lip, you disclosed, "You're not making me uncomfortable, Mal. Don't ever think that."

With that, you shyly interlocked your arm with his, tearing your eyes from his to mask the growing warmth you felt spreading in your veins. You two didn't say anything else when the ushers let you walk down the beautiful, petal-covered aisle together.

The man beside you was starstruck. Hopeful. Maybe both of you did have a chance. Maybe somewhere in the depths of your soul, his feelings for you were being reciprocated. For the rest of the sacred ceremony in the gorgeous main pavilion, both of you relished in short, comfortable, and low conversations. He even cracked jokes every once in a while—really funny ones that made it challenging for you to you stifle your laughter.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Maliksi fervently prayed to Bathala that he'd experience the same opportunity he was seeing with you someday. One day.

Even while the sun was brightly out, the sky began showering down light rain onto the land. You were in awe as you looked out the window.

"Hala, totoo nga pala! Tignan mo!" you laughed, tugging Maliksi's suit sleeve, pointing at the window.

"Na ano?" he curiously inquired, not understanding what you were referring to.

"Na kapag may tikbalang na kinakasal, umuulan habang may araw pa," you replied, eyes filled with childlike mirth and wonder. A rainbow had even begun to form by the clouds. "Look, it's magical! Ang ganda pala ng view dito kasama ang old Spanish architecture. Timeless na timeless. It's so pretty, 'no? Picture tayo 'maya, Mal."

Unlike you, it wasn't the sky outside that the prince was looking at. Amidst the loud cheers for the newlywed couple and the bubbles the guests were blowing, his vision could only focus on how magnificent you looked while being amazed. You were his best view. (Ed from 90-Day Fiancé, kabahan ka na, may katapat ka sa pickup line mo.)

》》》

"Smile for the picture!"

You giggled as Maliksi was dragged into a photo-op with the bridesmaids and the important older wedding sponsors a few feet away (funnily, he looked a little constipated around them). All of a sudden, when he was heading back to your direction, you were roughly pushed into the said man's arms. When you turned around, there was nothing (except maybe a gust of wind that came out of nowhere).

"Ooh, gotcha. Careful," the tikbalang steadied you, strong hands holding your biceps. "Natapilok ka?"

"... Huh, hindi naman," you wondered suspiciously, looking around. "I think someone pushed me? Parang tinulak ako... but wala namang tao."

"Weird. Maybe it was just the wind."

It actually was. Really. Maliksi knew for a fact that it was those two taong hangin who were spying on you from the corner, trying to pair you up. He gave them a thumbs-up while your back was turned in the opposite direction. Hannah and Amie returned the thumbs-up before vanishing. Suddenly, the two wedding photographers had moved on from the bridesmaids and were right beside you.

"What a lovely couple you two are!" she praised. Before you could correct her, she held up the black contraption she held towards you two. "Pose for the camera, lovelies!"

And so you did, the photographer guiding you two on what to do. Maliksi wrapped his arm around your waist and you leaned on his side, looking sidewards to the camera with one leg cocked in front of the other. Her assistant, who was holding a polaroid camera, printed out two photos for you.

"Thank you," you told him, taking the photos from his hands then flicking them rapidly to make the images develop. You and Mal were about to walk to the reception area when the photographer stopped you, handing the male beside you a business card.

"If you two need a photographer or a videographer for your wedding, call me," she signaled to both of you before running to another guest, bringing her assistant with her.

You gawked, "Mal, did you just hear what she said?"

"Loud and clear." A grin was on his face. He seemed very pleased at what he heard.

"... How can she even tell if someone is married or not?"

Maliksi's free hand took your left hand, tapping the ring finger, "Nothing here."

"Ooooooh. I get it now." Your brows creased. "Huh. This is like the fifth time today the people here have mistaken us for a couple."

Maliksi shrugged, teasing you, "Who knows? Baka may potential tayo, babe."

Before you could ask him what he meant, he was hurriedly towing you to the reception venue. While he was doing that, you stared at the now-developed polaroid photos you were holding. Huh. Maybe you two did look like a couple.

"Come on, they're serving some snacks at the welcome reception area. Peach pie and mango float-flavored. Paborito mo, babe."

》》》

The rest of the night went by without a hitch. You were actually enjoying the event—the host was great, the food was great, the music was great. Everything was great... that was, until the games.

"Alright! Now that the bride's garter has been removed, let's have the bouquet and garter toss... starting with the females!" the host announced. "Dear bride, please stay here in front. And all single ladies—and by single I mean ready to mingle and are not married—please rise and stand here on the dance floor. Let's play matchmaker tonight, everyone!"

"Uy, single ladies daw," Maliksi nudged your side. "Sign mo na 'yan." You snorted like a pig.

"Nope, ayokong madamay sa bouquet toss," you whisper-yelled at your best friend. "Do you know how embarrassing that is?! Besides, they won't notice if I don't join! Special tactic ko 'yan sa weddings: pretending I'm not single. Katabi naman kita."

More women came to the front, making you feel assured that you didn't need to participate. The host was about to say something, when the bride interrupted to whisper something into his ear.

"Hala, halaaa! Sabi ko all single ladies, pero may isang single lady na nagtatago pa!" he announced, making you freeze. Please don't let it be you. "What's her name, beloved bride?"

"Y/N L/N." You nearly spat out your champagne. You? Did they just call out your name? How did they know?

"Oh fuck," you cursed quietly.

"'Di ka makakatakas dito, babe," Maliksi jabbed, making you stand up. "Tinatawag ka na."

"Baka may ibang Y/N L/N dito," you resisted, attempting to sit back down. "I can't do this, Mal."

"'Sus, ikaw pa. And it's just a symbolic ceremony!" he encouraged, as if he didn't have any underlying intentions. "I doubt the bouquet will go to you anyway."

Sheesh, what a big fat liar you are, tikbalang prince.

You expressed your dissatisfaction with the situation, "Bwiset, fine. I'll just... dodge it. Or evade it. God, I swear..." You calmed down, confident. "I'm not going to worry. I've never caught the bouquet at my own friends' weddings anyway."

When you were at the dance floor, Maliksi snickered, seeing the bride—his cousin—wink at him. After all, he had thoroughly bribed her earlier.

《《《

"It's about time you settled down with someone, Mal," the bride commented while he slipped her the newest Hermés designer bag filled with a bunch of jewelry (plus some bills) two hours ago, right before the reception began and while you were in the restroom freshening up. "Hehehe, this is why you're my favorite cousin."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Of course. I'll make sure she participates. I'll also try to throw it in her direction."

"Good. Thanks."

"You better invite me to your beach wedding. I can tell how much you love her."

"Not a problem. I'll even make you a sponsor."

The bride stared at her bouquet, already practicing how she was going to throw it, "Tito's going to thank me so much for ensuring that he's going to get grandkids soon, hihi."

》》》

Back to the present, on the other end of the room, Maliksi saw a familiar duo give him a sign that they were ready. Bingo. Time to execute the most important part of his plan.

《《《

"I don't care how you do it," he told the two wind elementals after he bribed the bride. "I've already instructed the bride on what she should do, pero siguraduhin niyo lang talagang lumipad sa kanya ang bouquet."

"Mmhmm," Amie flipped her hair, a hand on her cocked hip. "And what do we get in return, oh great Señorito Armanaz?"

"Sagot ko bar-hopping niyo for one month."

The two girls pretended to think about it, making Maliksi roll his eyes. He had to pull out the big guns, huh?

"Fine. Magbibigay ako ng cash deposit plus pwede niyong gamitin ang black card ko for a one-week shopping spree in Ortigas." There. Bullseye. That's what they liked.

"Deal!" they exclaimed excitedly.

Hannah let a cool gust of wind enter one of the nearby windows, testing out how they're going to do this. "Ano pa bang pinaplano mo for Y/N mamaya?"

Maliksi hummed, "Basta."

》》》

You tried your best to hide within the densest part of the group of women. The bride seemed to have her eyes on you, weirdly enough, and she looked almost feral wanting to throw her flowers into someone's face.

That someone being you. Most likely.

"Target locked on," you saw her mouth move. She positioned herself like she was about to throw a football at someone (ahem, you). Holy shit, was she talking to you? Miss ma'am, it was a bouquet toss not a bouquet throw. The bride seemed to notice this, and once more regained her elegant composure.

"3, 2, 1," the host counted down. "Go!"

Surprisingly, the bouquet flew very high into the air (it was a wonder it didn't get tangled in the ceiling decor), but quite a distance away from you. You grinned, knowing it was too far to even touch you. Squeezing through the crowd of women eagerly awaiting the bouquet, you went to return to your assigned table.

Ah, what a wonderful evening.

Sike!

Something painfully landed right into your face, leaves and flowers getting into your hair and mouth.

... Wait, leaves and flowers?

Before you could comprehend it, the bouquet dropped right into your arms. What kind of ungodly, inhuman force allowed this to even happen?

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our lucky girl for the night!" Everyone clapped, with some—those guests you knew—even cheering your name unbelievably loud. The host approached you, a glint in his eye which you couldn't understand. "Miss Y/N, kindly sit here while we await the lucky guy who catches the garter from the groom."

What just happened?

"All single gentlemen, please proceed to the dance floor. Remember, the man who gets the garter gets to slip it onto the lucky lady's leg later!"

Oh, God. You pinched the bridge of your nose. What you'd give to be back at home or to be in that resort in Batangas you'd planned on going to for a solo vacation.

"To make this even more exciting," the host stated, handing you a black blindfold. "Our lucky lady has to keep her eyes closed until her lucky man for the night captures the bride's garter! When the music plays, only then can she uncover her eyes."

See? Humiliating, just as you expected. Still, you wrapped the blindfold around your head (albeit hesitantly). You attempted to guess who it might be, thinking of all the tikbalang friends Maliksi had introduced to you back then whenever he invited you to his clan reunions.

"Groom, are you ready?" the host asked, microphone loud and clear.

"Ready na ready!"

"Single gentlemen, are you ready?!"

"Ready na ready! Awoo, awoo!" they loudly chorused, exactly mimicking Spartans about to engage in battle. You sweatdropped in the seat you were in. This was actually kind of scary. Maybe you felt a bit objectified.

"3, 2, 1, go!"

There was a brief moment of silence, which made you concerned. Ba't ang tahimik? Then, everyone erupted into roars and bravoes much louder than when you caught the bouquet—perhaps even louder by tenfold. What the heck was happening?!

The music played. Very raunchy, spicy, babymaking music. You expected it to be the typical Careless Whisper by George Michael or Pony by Ginuwine (corny songs which you could probably laugh at, at least), but no. Nuh-uh, this was probably worse. The DJ must be pretty young, the song of their choosing being a slowed, bass-boosted, sexier remix of Earned It by the Weeknd.

Ano 'to, bold? Fifty Shades of Grey? The hell was this?

Alright. This was embarrassing. Thank the heavens there were no children at this party. From the music alone and its implications, this was strictly for adults.

You removed your blindfold (that was okay now, right?) as the guests whistled playfully. You peeked one eye open reluctantly, then inwardly groaned. Oh, no. You should've expected it to be him of all people from how loud the reactions were. And all those yells from the crowd were from his family.

Son of a—

"Well, this has proven to be a very interesting arrangement!" the host proclaimed. "Our lucky man for tonight is none other than our great clan leader's heir, Maliksi Armanaz! Congratulations, sir! You get to slip the lacey little garter on Miss Y/N!"

The said very smug tikbalang stood a few feet away from the chair you were sitting on, smirking at you. His hair was no longer in that mesmerizing ponytail—instead, he'd tied it into a more sinfully attractive man-bun, loose strands framing his face and accentuating that sharp, angled jaw of his (say yes and thank you to Manny Jacinto's jawline, besties).

"Let's cheer him on in his new mission, everybody!" the host pushed. Was this that glint in his eye earlier? And was that a one thousand peso bill sticking out of his pocket?

The groomsmen, Mal's cousins and uncles whom you've met before, hollered words of encouragement to the tall man (who was, oddly enough, not one bit fazed). In fact, Maliksi seemed like he was famished as he stared you down.

You swallowed, feeling like you were going to get eaten (heh, say that again). Maliksi had shrugged off his dark suit blazer to the beat of the song (holy fuck, he also unclasped the suspenders attached to his pants right before your eyes—asdfghjkl). Were you prepared for this? No. Will you ever be prepared? No!

"Mr. Armanaz, before you begin," the host interrupted. "We have an additional challenge for you in this mission. Kaya mo ba? It was a request of the newlywed couple."

"What is it?"

"Use your teeth!" the bride and the groom cheerfully shouted, clapping with the other guests. Whatdidtheysaaaaay???

The cocky bastard didn't even hesitate, his smirk at you growing wider; those pearly whites of his on full display. Was it just you or were his canines a little sharper than usual?

"Anything for the newlyweds. Challenge accepted," he dashingly replied, winking at you. You sputtered indignantly. Pisteng yawa. Putangina. Putek. Pakshet. You swore you thought of every swear word in the book at that moment. What did that YouTube parody song about Filipino mythological creatures say again? About the tikbalang? Ah, yes. Half-macho dancer and half-stallion. Maybe the joke was true, especially when you saw what Maliksi did next.

He bit the shred of lace, loosening his necktie (bestie, you good there?), unbuttoning some top buttons, and rolling up the sleeves of his collared white undershirt up to his elbows (consequently showing off his toned, veiny forearms—those lucky bridesmaids behind him nearly fainted). Honestly, you felt like you were about to lose your mind from embarrassment. With how tantalizing your guy best friend was being? Let our response be: San Pedro, kunin mo na ako. Was he doing all this to tease you? To rile you up?

Because damn it all, it was working. In your ten years of knowing Maliksi Armanaz, withstanding all his daily dirty jokes and flirtatious attempts, never had you seen him like this. So... wolfish. Ravenous. Like he was a man that hadn't been fed in years.

He stalked closer towards you, falling to his knees in front of your legs. Your gown had a long slit that extended up to an inch or two below where your left leg began—your best friend was eyeing his target already, knowing where to place the garter. Normally, you would never even wear something as revealing as this gown. It just wasn't your type, but Maliksi was the one who bought this for you for this specific occasion, so you had no choice. It was this or your pantulog he stole you in just hours ago. At first, you were confident in the gown. Now? You felt too... naked.

Somehow, in the heat of it all, you'd muted out the noise of the venue. Maliksi teasingly lifted your foot up, fingertips slyly grazing the thin shoe straps around your left foot—his calculated touch leaving fire in its trail. Once the garter had been successfuly inserted past your high-heeled stilettos, the man kneeling in front of you kept his hands to himself. Despite the fact that now there was absolutely zero skin-to-skin contact between you and this man, your body felt hotter than it ever was before as he expertly slid the lacy bit of cloth up your ankle at an agonizingly slow pace.

Maliksi's warm eyes had turned dark, his pupils blown, a tinge of red in them—of his true beast—while he maintained striking eye contact with you, pulling the garter up your calf with his teeth. Smoothly tugging... tugging... tugging. Tangina, it was like he was undressing you with his eyes alone; like he was telepathically telling you to keep your eyes open.

To keep your eyes on him, where he was knelt inbetween your legs, his hands intentionally locked on his back. Did you ever imagine this? Him between your legs? Maybe. Once or twice. But you never thought about it seriously; Maliksi dated girls left and right in the past.

His lips... his lips were so close... so close to your leg that you could feel the heat of his breath along with the lace. Were you about to die? Perhaps you already did. Maybe you were in heaven. Up... up... up... snap!

Suddenly, he stopped, grinning up at you mischievously and letting the elastic bounce back to the skin of your left knee.

"I'm not going any further, don't worry, babe," he whispered, noting that your eyes had become misty and glazed over. Internally, he grew worried. "That's enough." Did he think it was from discomfort? From you being uncomfortable? Bitch, no. It was the exact opposite. You had never been this turned on in your entire life.

You felt like your soul had left your body at that moment. Did you just have a heart attack? Was your blood pressure okay? Before you or Maliksi could stand, however, someone bellowed from the wedding sponsor tables.

"Higher! That's an order!"

Fucking hell, it was Maliksi's father who shouted. He wasn't in the huge tikbalang form you'd normally meet him in, but he was still very intimidating in his humanoid form, commanding attention and subservience wherever he went. You could tell where Maliksi got it from.

Instantly, the other guests—already half-drunk and wanting the spirit of partying to continue on—joined in.

"Higher! Higher!"

The host cheered, "You heard Señor Armanaz! Higher!"

Maliksi gave you a questioning look. Even if it was his father who spoke up, he still wouldn't do anything you didn't want. Well, you two made it this far; there was no point in getting embarrassed now. You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding. You probably couldn't erase the redness on your skin with how much you'd blushed from this night. It was as if the heat was tattooed onto your skin.

"Go on, Mal," you whispered to him, bending your torso down closer to his face, eyes half-lidded from want. "Finish what you started, babe."

With those sultry bedroom eyes he'd never once seen you show him before—plus you turning the tables with that familiar term of endearment, how could he refuse? Like a switch had been flipped inside him, he immediately complied, taking the frilly scrap of stretchy lace between his teeth once more, moving it further up to your thighs until where your high slit ended—centimeters below the warming juncture between your legs.

Your legs felt wobbly... boneless, as you stood up from the chair, the fabric of your gown cascading over where the lace sat securely on your upper left thigh. The party was still going strong even after you two finished the garter wearing tradition.

"'Atta boy! That's my son!" Señor Armanaz blazoned, standing up and raising his glass for a toast. "Cheers to the newlywed couple! May they last forever!"

You guys weren't the newlyweds, but it did sure feel like it. If the clan leader was hyped up, everyone was hyped up. Heck, the groom and the bride didn't mind one bit what had just transpired on their dance floor. In all the chaos, Maliksi took you out of the reception area and somewhere quieter. More private.

You would need to have a serious, urgent talk with your boy best friend.

》》》

You two silently sat on a stone bench in a gazebo somewhere in the reserved venue for the wedding, trying to cool down and get yourselves back together (at this point, you needed ice from that steamy, half-scandalous event you just went through). Here, there was no one else except for the chirping of crickets, the lush trees surrounding the area, and the golden fairy lights strewn all over the roof. Awkwardness was something you'd expected after what just happened, but somehow, you still felt comfort in this man's presence. For the past thirty minutes, both of you just stayed still, lost in your thoughts and reflecting.

"Mal?" you finally spoke up.

"... Hmm?"

"Ano tayo?"

"Whatever you want us to be."

Your fingers instinctively reached out for his, just like they always did when you were anxious. Sensing this, he grasped your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Soothingly. He massaged the skin of your fingers, distracting you from your nervousness. It seemed like both nothing and everything changed between both of you. The gesture was the same, but so different at the same time.

"Mahal mo ako." It was not a question. It was a statement. A truth—one that you'd been too blind to see before. One that you only discovered while you stared into each other's eyes in that party not as best friends. You realized with a jolt in your heart what he really felt for you, and now, what you really felt for him. In those thirty minutes of silence, you knew. You just knew.

"Yes. I do."

"... Just as a best friend?" you probed.

"..."

Finally, you gazed into his eyes, previously so dark and full of hunger. Now? Just reluctant. Vulnerable. Open. Unsure of what to do next.

Seems like you had to be the one to take initiative tonight. Taking out your phone, you opened your music app and pressed play on a certain song. Ikaw at Ako by Johnoy Danao. You removed your heels (which were starting to blister your ankles and toes), then pulled him up to stand.

"Dance with me," you murmured, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist. He was stiff. Tense. What was he to do when the woman he's been pining after for so long let him hold her? All his gallantry and ability to romance disappeared out the window the moment you let him touch you so intimately.

You two weren't even waltzing. Just swaying. Slowly, you leaned your head on his broad chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"... I love you," Maliksi admitted in the middle of it all, feeling like he was dreaming. Your head on his chest kept him grounded to reality, however. "More than anything in the universe. I fell for you ever since you patched me up when you were nineteen and I was a reckless drag racer who didn't have a purpose in life. 'Nung dinala mo ako pabalik sa Armanaz Tower on the verge of death. Simula noon, ikaw lang."

"I realized that," you smiled, reminiscing the old memory. You were just a broke college student that time, coming back to your dorm from making your group thesis at a classmate's house. Imagine your panic when you found a half-man, half-horse bleeding out by some bushes on the way home at night. Despite your fear and your little money (only enough to feed you for the week), you went out of your way to buy a first-aid kit at the nearest 7/11. It was scary, but you managed to mend the creature's wounds by the side of the road. When he was finally able to speak, turning fully human (which you admit, freaked you out initially), you arduously carried him back to his address—to his father and his clan, even if you had classes the very next morning. Because of your heroic deed of saving their precious heir, the tikbalang clan had become indebted to you: a teenage girl on the verge of a mental academic breakdown, just making her way through the cruel adult world. How old of a memory that was, you thought, yet you still recalled it in perfect detail. "Just a while ago."

"Ah." He swayed you gently.

"Lahat ng ito, plano mo?"

"... Yes," Maliksi fessed up. "Except for this part where we're here dancing in this belvedere. Wala sa plano ko. Gusto ko sanang magconfess doon sa may fountain para sweet, pero..."

You lifted your head off his chest, smiling at him with one brow raised, "You know, between both of us, you're supposed to be the spontaneous one. Planning isn't usually your thing."

"I know. It's a failure, huh?" Maliksi sighed.

"Nah." You shook your head, then suddenly locked lips with him. It was so fast and surprising he didn't even get the chance to return your first kiss. For once, you caught him off guard. You pecked him on the lips again. "It's not a failure."

"Wha—"

"I'm sorry for making you wait, Maliksi. Ten years. We're twenty-nine now, and only tonight do I realize how blind I've been. We've been going around in circles, wasting so much time. Ayoko nang mag-aksaya ng oras," you whispered guiltily against his lips. How could you have been so blind? Andaming nasayang na taon. Making up your mind, you told him, "Yes. Sige, I accept. I'll be your plus one."

The tikbalang was flustered and baffled from the kiss, as well as your revelation, "... But, you already are?"

"No, silly. I meant that I'll be your plus one for life. For as long as you'll have me," you laughed, now processing that you were currently dancing barefoot with your boy best friend and had just kissed him in a wedding you didn't even plan on going to. The universe had a mysterious way of doing things. "Guess I'm the spontaneous one now, huh?"

Maliksi was tongue-tied. "Seryoso ka ba? Is... Is this a marriage proposal?"

"Whatever you want it to be," you echoed his words back to him. "Best friend, plus one, girlfriend, wife—mmpf!"

He kissed you so hard your lips bruised. After an impromptu makeout session which was definitely more in character for Maliksi, you both pulled away, panting heavily in search for air, still desperate for passion. He cupped your cheeks, giving you a sweet, featherlight Eskimo kiss.

"You're missing one more title."

"Hm? What do you mean, Mal?"

"Love of my life." He kissed you again, this time lifting you off your feet and spinning you around (his sneaky right hand was resting on your bum, too, giving it a tight squeeze). You know in the Princess Diaries where the main character's foot just... pops whenever the prince charming kissed her? Yeah, that happened to you on that humid summer night. This was right. You two were meant to be together. Everything was falling into place.

The bungalow you reserved for your Batangas vacation leave ended up being the site of your very eventful honeymoon with the Prince of the Tikbalang (with his libido, it wasn't that difficult to continue where you'd left off in the garter toss; that scrap of lace came off your leg the same way it went on). Actually, nauna pa ang honeymoon sa actual wedding (it was definitely spontaneous). Right after your confession in that alcove, you two went to Maliksi's father to ask for his blessing (which he gladly gave, cackling and saying that it took you long enough) before you guys went driving off to Batangas that night. You and Mal indeed had lots and lots of fun in that resort (I'll let you imagine the rest). More beautiful memories were made from that point on—this time, not just as best friends.

All that and your small, intimate wedding occurred in early April. Just when you thought that it'd be impossible to fulfill Maliksi's life goal of having a baby within the year (nine months of pregnancy meant that the earliest you'd give birth would be January next year), the impossible happened.

Exactly thirty-two weeks later, on New Year's Eve, the Armanaz herd welcomed one prince and two new princesses into the world. Triplets who were instantly adored by everyone in the clan.

Señor Armanaz had never been happier, and so were you and your husband. Your best friend. The love of your life. Your forever plus one.

Maybe being spontaneous wasn't so bad after all.

Taglist: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @methehipster @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie

[pastelwitchling]

Michael asks Alex out.

Watching Alex stand beside his car, Michael thought of two things. The first was that Alex looked unbearably good in dark clothes and a beanie. The second was that he wanted to kick himself for allowing this in the first place.

Granted, he didn’t think Alex would’ve actually heeded anything he’d said, but he liked thinking his concern held real weight in the airman’s decisions. For a moment there, when Alex had told him about Deep Sky and that some stranger had asked for a meeting out here, Michael felt like Alex had been eager for his opinion. He told Alex he had to be there with him, damn the solo rules, and Alex had looked almost relieved.

So here Michael was, parking alongside Alex’s car, and stepping out just as Alex checked his watch and exhaled shakily. Out here the stars were bright, but none of them shined as brightly as Alex did, even in his black leather jacket. Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. He was too sober for this.

“Hey,” he sidled up next to Alex, leaning against the hood of his car.

“Hi,” Alex looked around.

“What time did the guy say to come out here again?”

“Ten.” He checked his watch again. “Five minutes. I get the feeling these people are punctual.”

“Alex,” Michael reached out to touch his shoulder, and Alex’s muscles instantly turned pliant beneath his touch. He sighed more steadily, and Michael tried very hard not to let his thoughts wander to the way Alex’s body just did whatever he wanted it to, the way his single sigh made his heart go crazy.

“I know,” Alex said, and sat down next to Michael. “I know.”

They sat in silence for a whole minute, then, “Any word from Forrest?”

“No,” Alex said without missing a beat, like he’d been both expecting and dreading the question.

Michael probably should’ve left it at that, but curiosity and jealousy mixed in a stubborn, strong brew and took over. “Will he be back soon?”

“Doubt it,” he said, then, “I actually really don’t want to talk about it, Guerin.”

“Hm.” Michael licked his lips. “So I guess you really miss him then, huh?”

“Oh my god.”

“What? Does it bother you that much if someone says the guy’s name?”

“Guerin.” Alex’s tone was not angry or even frustrated. He was pleading. The mere mention of Forrest hurt him. Had he really meant that much to him?

“I’m sorry,” Michael murmured. When Alex said nothing for another two minutes, Michael tried again. “Alex, I’m sorry, okay? I just . . . I’m not like you, I’m not the . . . superhero tough guy who can take anything.” He kicked a pebble across the desert ground until it disappeared beyond the car’s lights and into the darkness. “I hated seeing you with him, and I got a little pushy.” He repeated, “I’m sorry, Private.”

Alex said nothing. He wouldn’t even look at Michael, his eyes on the ground, his brows furrowed. Michael didn’t think he would speak to him again for the rest of the night. Then –

“You’re right,” Alex said, his voice hoarse like the words had been a long-kept secret that he was finally pushing out. “You’re not like me.”

Michael swallowed, guilt and embarrassment filling his chest and making it harder to breathe. Then Alex looked at him, and all pain faded away. His expression was soft, his eyes glassy.

“You know what I did after they pinned that Purple Heart to my chest?” he scoffed, like it was silly now. “I burst into tears. The whole reason I left was to be stronger, so no one could ever scare me again. So I never had to see anybody I loved –” he cut off, and looked away from Michael, his cheeks tinted pink.

Alex sighed. “And then they gave me that medal, which was the highest commendation you could get, and I realized” – he huffed a miserable chuckle – “that I felt more broken than ever.” He raised a brow. “Some superhero tough guy, huh?”

“Alex . . .” Michael tried to argue, but he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes, moments like these, Michael felt like he and Alex really were from completely different worlds. The Alex that had gone on to war, that had survived it, had been alone.

“You’re nothing like me, Guerin,” Alex said again. “You’re so much better. I’m not the hero you want to believe I am just so you can keep hating yourself and – and undermining what you mean to me, I’m sick of it. If you haven’t realized by now that no one could ever be you for me, then I don’t know what else to do.”

Alex huffed, and roughly wiped away a tear. “So knock it off with the stupid jealousy, and just ask me out already!”

He turned back to staring at the darkness, his hands in his jacket pockets, very still save for a sniffle here and there that made Michael’s heart ache.

Michael also looked back to the darkness, glancing at Alex.

“Maybe I don’t want to ask you out because I know what you’ll say,” he quietly confessed, his heart hammering. “Maybe I didn’t want to believe it would be that easy because it would mean I wasted all this time.”

Alex sniffled again and bumped their shoulders together. “You didn’t waste it alone.”

Michael could think of nothing to say to this. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked, “Will you go out with me?”

Alex glanced at him and away again. “Yes.”

Michael nodded as his brain processed the response. He was starting to smile, unable to help himself, when a pair of headlights shined in the night.

“Later?” Alex said grimly, his eyes on the dark figure behind the windshield.

Michael nodded once and straightened with him, his body thrumming with power, ready to protect. “Later.”

Am I posting too many of these? Is that why the notes never reach 100 anymore? 😂 I say this as a joke, but also kind of serious. I keep worrying that I’m flooding my dashboard with too many fics so by the time someone might get to reading one, another has already taken its place. Y’all just let me know if you’d like me to post less often so you can catch up 🤣🌝

[tntduo-brainrot-is-real]

Thinking about Quackity towering up from the sand island in the lava, towering up to the sand ceiling and punching his way through, stumbling through the night streets of Las Nevadas as the golden hue of the fire lanterns flicker on and off. Thinking about him collapsing in front of the fountain, down on his knees before the moon, holding back muffled sobs. Thinking about him holding his hands out, presenting them to the atmosphere, so that his eyes can rest upon charred skin still covered in warm green. Thinking about him gazing upon his legacy, once bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, now just a handful of goo in his palms, viscous matter slowly dripping onto the pavement.

Thinking about Wilbur watching from the burger van every afternoon as Quackity gathered Slime and took him out for his lessons. Thinking about Wilbur seeing his naive trusting nature and thinking of Tommy, thinking of Fundy, thinking of himself, before everything went wrong. Thinking about him showing up at Las Nevadas one particularly loud night, startled awake from his accidental snooze at the van by a blaring alarm triggered within the confines of the city-state. Thinking about him finding Quackity, hunched over himself, shivering, his breaths shaky and broken and somber.

Thinking about Quackity barely noticing Wilbur's shoes stop in front of him. Thinking about Quackity nearly unable to bring himself to face Wilbur, nearly unable to show his coated hands. Thinking about how Quackity called upon Purpled to look at what he'd done as Slime melted in his arms, but now that he saw the translucent, viridescent slime on his hands, he was reminded of the UFO. He was reminded of legacy. Slime had learned everything he knew from Quackity. Slime was—no, would've been his legacy.

Wilbur sees the slime. He sees it drip down onto the black concrete. He sees Quackity, broken at his feet, and he knows. He sees Tommy, he sees Fundy, he sees himself, and he knows.

YOU DID NOT HAVE TO GO THIS HARD! THIS IS AMAZING??? I'M IN LOVE??? HELLO??? SOME TALENT TO SPARE PLEASE, MY LITTLE PEA BRAIN COULD NEVER

Anyway, yes, this is fantastic, the idea of Wilbur being able to understand what Q is feeling because he has had damn well similar before is a fantastic concept. Wil and Q are very much two sides of the same coin, the parallels between their two characters are amazing, or to put it as Wilbur has: Yin and Yang.

Quackity wouldn't know what to do with himself, he's still in shock, unable to process what just happened, the slime in his arms absolutely burning him because it's just come out of lava. He's in pain but he doesn't register it, he can't register it. He can register his tears, he can't register his own thoughts, and he can't register Wilbur, who has probably moved down to be closer to eye level with Q despite the fact that the smaller's gaze is firmly fixed to the puddling slime over his arms and sand.

It's only when Wilbur's firm hand touches his shoulder does he pull out of his mind, sensing the things around him again, Wilbur's words becoming clearer, the soft little "Quackity?" that leaves his mouth being able to fight through ringing ears.

Q finally realises the tears down his face, the burning of his skin from the hot, yet cooling, slime, and everything comes crashing down on him in one big moment.

[daenqyu]

heather | kaminari denki

— gif isn’t mine !! credits go to @misakachan

pairing: kaminari x fem!reader | platonic!kirishima x fem!reader

genre: LOTS of angst, some comfort(?)

summary: kaminari had been oblivious to your feelings for years now, and at first it was okay, you didn’t mind hiding them. until you noticed the way he looked at her and suddenly, it wasn’t okay anymore.

warnings: swearing

word count: 5.6k

a/n: this is my first time writing and posting for a bnha character so i really hope you guys like it <3 i usually don’t write angst, but i couldn’t stop thinking about this and decided to write it down and i’m very happy with how it turned out.

« i still remember third of december

me in your sweater, you said it looked better

on me, than it did you, only if you knew

how much i liked you »

YOUR whole body trembled thanks to the coldness surrounding you, the snow decorating the floor and trees being a clear sign that winter had already begun in japan. you hugged your arms in a poor attempt to provide yourself some kind of heath, only to be met with the feeling of your cold hands. out of all the days you could’ve forgotten your jacket, it had to be on one of the coldest days of december. profanities fell from your lips as you tried your best to endure the pain until the bus came, but you were sure you would pass out by then. or maybe you were exaggerating.

the bus stop wasn’t that far away from your house, maybe if you ran you could get your jacket and get back on time to catch the bus. you checked your phone to see the time, a groan leaving your lips as you realized that was going to be practically impossible. if you left now, by the time you came back the bus would be long gone. dammit, why do i have to forget everything?

“well well, look who we have here.” your ears perked up as soon as you heard the male’s voice, a small smile making its way to your lips.

kaminari made his way over to you, both hands on his pockets as he returned the smile, making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. the smile didn't falter until he took note of your current state. his eyes widened with concern and his hands worked fast to take his jacket off.

“denki, what are you doing?” confusion was evident on your face, but that didn’t stop the blonde from wrapping you up in the warm material.

you blushed from the sudden proximity, his face just inches away as he finished zipping up the piece of clothing. it didn’t take long before his cologne filled your nostrils and you basked in the comfort it gave you; it smelled like home. kaminari’s smile returned to his face when he saw your body visibly relax at the newfound heath, even though goosebumps began to form on his skin by the sudden change of temperature. he could handle being cold for a few hours.

“there, now you won’t die of hypothermia.”

“but what about you?”

he shrugged, tilting his head to the side before answering, “it’s fine, it looks better on you anyways.”

you knew he probably meant it in a friendly way, but you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat at the compliment. suddenly you felt all warm inside, and it wasn’t because of the jacket. but rather the effect your best friend had on you.

right.

the smile slowly disappeared from your face, replaced with a hurt expression instead.

that’s all we are.

realization dawned upon you quickly and you scolded yourself for almost believing something so irrational and overall stupid. but as he nudged your arm with his elbow and started talking to you about a new video game that had come out that exact same day, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he did so, you allowed yourself to hold on to that fantasy a little longer. after all, dreaming didn’t hurt anyone right?

and so, you spent the whole ride to school envisioning an universe in which kaminari returned your feelings for him. an universe in which he loved you just as much as you loved him and you didn’t have to worry about anything, because at least you had him. an universe in which you didn’t have to overthink every little thing he did, wondering whether or not he actually meant it or if he was being his usual flirty self. an universe in which you were able to call him yours.

when school ended and you found yourself at the bus station once again, with kaminari next to you, you began to take off the jacket, having it worn all day and deciding it was time to give it back. but kaminari’s hands stopped you, hovering on top of yours, before you could finish unzipping it. you looked at him questioningly, trying your best to ignore the erratic beating of your heart and the electricity you felt right where your hands were touching.

“you can keep it.” his words confused you even more.

“what? no. it’s your jacket, you’ll get cold and besides it’s-”

“oh please don’t act like you don’t love wearing my clothes.” his tone was teasing, yet knowingly eyes scanned your face and you looked away, a hint of blush across your cheeks.

“whatever, but don’t expect to get it back.” kaminari laughed, his hands leaving your own and you had to hold back from taking it and interlacing your fingers together.

as you parted ways, walking in opposite directions to head back to your houses after a long day at school, you hugged yourself for the second time that day. this time, actually being able to feel warm. both inside and out.

—

« but I watch your eyes

as she walks by

what a sight for sore eyes

brighter than the blue sky

she’s got you mesmerized

while I die »

YOU and kaminari told each other everything, well at least most things. so it didn’t surprise you when he started rambling about yet another girl. don’t get me wrong, you loved him to death, but you had to admit that the boy could be quite unlucky with the ladies, much to own your luck that is. but this time was different and you both knew it. you noticed it in the way he smiled whenever he talked about her, how he was able to light up from just hearing her name, and most importantly, the way he looked at her. and you immediately knew. because it was the same way you looked at him.

she was your classmate and friend, and you could totally understand why kaminari was so smitten with her. she was funny, smart, caring, beautiful; in other words everything you weren’t. and while it’s true you knew it was bad to be envious of people, specially your friends, you simply couldn’t not wish to be her. i mean come on, not only did she have an awesome quirk you had no chance of competing against, she also had the boy you loved wrapped around her finger and she wasn’t even aware of it.

“and then when he was about to- denki, are you even listening?” he wasn’t, but you didn’t want to admit that.

“hm? oh sorry! what were you saying?” his pretty amber eyes looked at you for only a split second, before going back to admire the dark purpled haired girl.

jirou stood a few feet away from you guys, talking and laughing with sero and mina. you could feel your heart slowly breaking as you saw kaminari’s lips curl into a small smile when she briefly looked at him, waving at him in the process. and of course you didn’t miss the way she blushed.

“ah it’s nothing important anyways.”

“hey y/n, do you think i should ask jirou out?”

oh.

you were pretty certain you stopped breathing once your brain registered his words. how could he be so oblivious?! you had been friends since fucking middle school and you were supposed to believe that he never once noticed how hopelessly in love you were with him? did you not show it enough? were you that bad at displaying your love for people? or was he just ridiculously dumb? you desperately hoped it was the latter, because deep down a part of you still believed that there was a possibility for you two. that an us could be possible if you just showed him how serious you were about him.

but the rational part of you was screaming at you to stop being so damn stupid, to finally open your eyes and realize kaminari didn’t and would never reciprocate your feelings. that you were hoping for the impossible to happen, that you were preparing yourself for absolute heartbreak if you thought for a second he would choose you over her. and while you wanted nothing more than to yell at him for being so dense, for not seeing that you were right there, you simply couldn’t. so you went with the safer option.

“y-yeah, you should. i’m sure she’ll say yes.” you were able to muster a smile, and despite the lump in your throat, you feel happiness surge through you as he turns around and gives you a big smile.

“you think so? but what if she says no?”

“any girl would be lucky to have you, denki. you’re sweet, cool, and funny. what more could a girl ask for?” you were only half joking, but of course he didn’t notice.

“well if you say it like that it just sounds like you have a crush on me.” he winked at you and you swore you were about to pass out. not only because of the wink, but because of his sudden implication. (which was a fact)

“you wish,” you snort to make it seem more real, and it seems to work because kaminari’s now pouting at you. “now go get em’ tiger.”

“please don’t say that again.”

“wow okay, cold.”

he stood up, taking a deep breath before walking over to jirou, starting off with a joke as he leaned down on her desk and, as much as she tried to stifle it, a loud laugh escaped her. apparently kaminari’s charm didn’t only work on you. but oh how you wished it did because that way you would be the one getting asked out right now, not her. quite frankly, you would give anything to have him look at you the way he was looking at her right now, as if she was some mystical creature. or better yet, as if he was under some kind of love spell that made him unable to look at anyone else like that.

from the other corner of the classroom, a certain red haired guy looked at you with pity in his eyes, but also concern. he made his way to you, sitting down in kaminari’s previous spot. you sent him a, clearly fake, smile when you noticed it was none other than kirishima, one of your best friends. but he saw right through that.

“hey,” his voice was soft and low, he didn’t exactly want the whole class to know about what was going on. “are you okay?”

you gulped, but still nodded. “of course, why wouldn’t i be?” another fake smile.

“don’t give me that bullshit y/n. you don’t need to lie to me.” that was all you needed to hear before dropping the act, your smile quickly being replaced with a frown and kirishima’s heart hurt for you.

“this sucks,” you say under your breath, looking away towards their direction only to see kaminari playing with one of jirou’s earphone jacks, which obviously made the pain in your chest worsen. “i just want him to look at me the same way he looks at her,” tears began to sting at the corners of your eyes. “is that too much to ask for?” you asked no one in particular as you looked up to kirishima.

“it’s not, but you’ll be okay,” without thinking it twice, he hugged you and you didn’t fight back, instead welcoming the warmth his chest provided you and resting your head against one of his shoulders. “you know he doesn’t know y/n, if he did i’m sure things would be different.”

“i know, but it’s fine. i just want him to be happy.”

even if it’s not with me.

but you don’t say that, preferring to just stay on kirishima’s arms a little longer while trying to ignore the two love birds giggling behind you, your heart breaking more and more each time you heard kaminari’s sweet words. because they weren’t for you, they were for her.

—

« why would you ever kiss me?

i’m not even half as pretty

you gave her your sweater

it’s just polyester

but you like her better

wish i were heather »

HIDING your emotions was something you mastered pretty well by now. you spent years keeping your feelings for kaminari to yourself and you didn’t mind at all; you had come to terms with the fact that this crush was probably one sided a long time ago. so, why did you suddenly felt the need to tell him? it never bothered you, but now, after having to see him every day making heart eyes at her and hear him talk about how cool she was, you thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. you just wanted him to have the option; he deserved to know right? or maybe you were just hoping that he would choose you over her. just like you would choose him over anyone in a heartbeat.

but to be honest, you didn’t know what you would do with yourself if he didn’t. if he chose her over you while knowing you loved him too. what if she meant more to him than you did? what if he thought you were outright weird and things became awkward? what if your friendship wasn’t as special as you thought it was? you shook your head, hands coming up to your temples to try and get rid of some of the tension. no, that couldn’t be. you knew he loved you...at least as a friend.

it had been 2 months already since kaminari and jirou started talking. they weren’t oficial yet, but you accidentally overheard her conversation with yaoyorozu a few days ago and heard her complaining about how she wished he finally made a move on her. that somehow relieved you because at least they hadn’t gotten physical yet, but at the same time you wondered if you were being a bad friend by thinking that. maybe you were, but you couldn’t help it. i mean you liked the boy for fucks sake, it was understandable that you weren’t exactly hoping for them to pounce on each other.

“where’s denki?” kirishima asked as he caught up with you in the hallway, both of you making your way to the new dorms.

“don’t know, he left before i could even ask him.” you tried your best to sound neutral, but you knew you didn’t do a good job when you heard kirishima sighing. however, much to your liking, he stayed quiet and didn’t say anything about it, changing the topic to today’s events.

you were grateful to have him; he was the only one who knew about your crush on kaminari and the only one who was able to take your mind off things even for just a little while. soon enough you found yourself laughing by his side as he talked about bakugou’s weird antics and how hot-headed he could be at times, which you had experienced firsthand.

“he was all like ‘hey shitty hair, if you’re not gonna do a good work then fuck off!’ like man calm down, i didn’t even do anything.” you giggled at his accurate impersonation of the angry blonde. shaking your head as you looked up, noticing you were already at the dorms building.

you squinted your eyes when you saw two people standing right in front of the main entrance, but couldn’t make out their faces thanks to the long distance. yet the closer you got, the better you could see them. and once your eyes focused on the couple completely, everything stopped.

it was them.

they were kissing.

right in front of you.

his arms were wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him as if he never wanted to let her go, and her own were wrapped around his neck, caressing his soft blonde hair which you loved to ruffle whenever he laid down on your lap.

they looked so beautiful, straight out of a cheesy romcom movie. the sun was beginning to set and its rays reflected on their skin perfectly, making them look golden. and in that precise moment you realized just how beautiful jirou was and how much she complimented kaminari in every sense of the word. could it be that they were made for each other?

before you knew it, a single tear rolled down your cheek, and you weakly smiled at kirishima when he opened his mouth to try and comfort you, yet no words seemed to come out. because he knew that no matter what he said, the damage was already done. the couple hadn’t even noticed you two, too immersed in their own little world as they giggled and made their way inside, all while holding each other’s hands.

“they make a good couple, don’t they?” you fixed your eyes on your shoes, holding back the sobs that desperately wanted to escape you.

“y/n…” kirishima’s tone was sad, mostly because he didn’t know what to do, but also because he understood perfectly the pain you were going through. he had been experiencing it for a while now.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, kiri.” you sent him another smile, but right when you started walking towards the entrance he managed to see the tears falling down your cheeks as you bit down on your lower lip.

and somehow, that kiss proved to you that you could never beat her, that she had won over kaminari’s heart. something you could never do.

—

« watch as she stands with her holding your hand

put your arm 'round her shoulder, 

now I'm getting colder

but how could I hate her? 

she’s such an angel

but then again, kinda wish she were dead »

PEOPLE often say one’s happiness shouldn’t relay on others and you had always been a firm believer of that, knowing that people were unpredictable and that they could change at any moment given. so it was only reasonable that you made yourself happy, without needing to depend on other people, yet that didn’t really add up with your current situation. it made you look like a hypocrite.

ever since jirou and kaminari started dating, you had been spending less and less time together. the only time you could have him all to yourself was when you occasionally paired up during training and even then you didn’t really talk much. you were happy everything had worked out for them, and you loved to see kaminari happy, but it hurt you. it hurt so much, to the point that sometimes it was hard to get out of bed. 

you missed your best friend. and you knew it was selfish, but did it even matter at this point? did he he notice how you talked less and less? how you barely smiled anymore? of course he didn’t. he was too busy looking at her anyways, too busy going on dates and learning how to play the guitar just for her. his girlfriend. 

and as much as you wanted to hate them both, you didn’t have it in you. why would you? because they were happy and in love? you weren’t that desperate. but sometimes, as you watched her throw her head back while she laughed at something kaminari said, you wished he had never met her. you wished you never came to UA in the first place, that way they wouldn’t have met and you would probably still have your best friend by your side. no. even if he hadn’t met her, you knew he would never go for a girl like you.

these past few months had been hell for you, you barely left your room unless it was for school, your eating habits couldn’t have gotten any worse, and you weren’t getting any sleep, too busy crying your eyes out as you wondered what the hell you did wrong. and you knew what you were doing wasn’t healthy, but a part of you wished that something really bad happened to you just so kaminari would pay attention to you again. but he didn’t.

today was one of those days, you didn’t feel like getting up your bed just to watch a dumb movie with your classmates, and possible have to witness jirou and kaminari being all lovey dovey right in front of you. the thought alone was enough to make you roll your eyes, scoffing at how much the pair loved PDA. 

“come on y/n! it’ll be so fun.” kirishima was currently trying to convince you to go watch a movie with the rest of class 1-A in the common room, but as expected you denied his invitation. “even bakugou is going!” 

“then you’ll be more than fine without me.” 

“i’ll miss you tho.” he gave you puppy eyes and you groaned, placing your pillow over your face.

“since when are you so cheesy?”

“stop trying to change the subject,” a frustrated sigh left his lips, and you lowered your pillow to look at him. he was sitting down on the floor with his legs crossed, a frown evident on his face. “i know you don’t wanna talk about it, but you can’t keep on like this y/n.” you flinched slightly at his serious tone.

“i know,” this time it was you who sighed, weighing your options in your head. you knew kirishima was right and he was trying his best to make you feel better, so the least you could do was make him some company. “okay fine,” his head turned in your direction, looking at you hopefully. “i’ll go, but it better be a good movie.” 

“yes! you won’t regret it, i promise. and if at some point you wanna leave, then we’ll leave, but you have to at least try.” your heart swelled at his consideration; he was too sweet to you and you didn’t deserve it at all.

“you don’t have to do that, kiri.”

“but i want to. i know it’s not easy, so i’m proud of you for doing this.” his words made a lump appear in your throat. maybe you were being overly sensitive, but hearing him say that meant a lot.

it wasn’t long before the clock striked 9PM and everyone started making their way to the common room, chatting happily as they sat down and got everything ready for the night. you watched as people started to take a seat, whether it was on the couches or on the floor, and you started to get a bit anxious when you noticed kaminari walking down the stairs, but jirou was nowhere to be seen. thankfully.

as much as you tried to not let him have an effect on you, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you saw him. it was truly inevitable, but what you hated the most was knowing you had no effect on him whatsoever. 

before you could look away and hide from his view, kaminari spotted you. he sent you a big smile, waving his hand before walking over to where you stood. ok, calm down act normal. it’s just denki. you tried to calm yourself down, but your breath hitched in your throat when you suddenly felt his arms engulf you in a tight hug, your arms slowly coming up to his neck to return the gesture. you would be lying if you said you hadn’t miss this feeling. the feeling of being home again. 

but it ended way too fast for your liking.

“hey you! we haven’t hung out in a while, i miss you.” 

because you’re too busy with your girlfriend, asshole. 

“yeah sorry about that, i’ve been kinda busy i guess.” your tone was off and he noticed, but he brushed it off. maybe she’s tired.

“then what are you doing tomorrow? we can go to the mall or wherever you want to.” your head quickly shot up, looking at him with nothing but hope in your eyes.

“really?”

“of course! we need to have some bestie time.” the wink he sent you was playful, but your lips still curved into a smile from hearing him saying he wanted to spend time with you.

“then maybe we can go to this new-”

“hey babe i saved you a seat,” out of the blue, jirou appeared right next to kaminari, slipping her hand into his. and your heart clenched when you noticed he held it back tightly. “oh, hi y/n!” she sent you a warm, genuine smile, and you felt so bad for wanting her to feel your pain. 

“hi jirou.” 

“i was just telling y/n about how we should hang out.” you frowned at him, is he inviting her? 

“oh? where did you plan on going?” 

“i told her she should pick.”

“well that sounds even more fun, any ideas?”

“actually i just remembered i got some homework to finish.” it was a lie, but you didn’t have it in you to third wheel on what was supposed to be a date with your best friend.

“what?” kaminari asked you, not understanding you sudden change in attitude.

“yeah, maybe next time tho.” he wanted to ask what was wrong, but as he opened his mouth to do so, you saw kirishima walking towards the common room with bakugou and took that as your cue to leave the awkward encounter. 

“well that was weird.” he mumbled to himself and jirou looked at him questioningly, wondering what he meant.

“hm? what was that babe?” the blonde shook his head, convincing himself he was probably overthinking things. he placed his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder before walking over to one of the couches. to be more precise, the couch in front of yours. 

you sat beside kirishima, your leg bouncing up and down anxiously as you waited for iida to finally play the goddamn movie so you had something else to pay attention to instead of them. kirishima quickly noticed the unusual movement and was about to ask you what was wrong, but once he saw where your gaze was locked on, it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. 

he knew better than to ask you in front of everyone if you were okay, so he just gave your knee a light squeeze, which you highly appreciated and let him know so by smiling at him. after a few minutes that felt like eternity, iida played the movie and told everyone to not make any unnecessary noises and be considerate of your classmates which made you scoff slightly. 

twenty minutes into the movie and everything was going great so far. you had actually managed to get immersed in the plot and found yourself leaning your head against kirishima’s shoulder to get a better view, but also because the effect of not having a stable sleeping schedule was dawning on you. however, just when you thought you were about to fall asleep on your friend’s comfortable shoulder, you heard some giggles. you opened your eyes slowly, frowning when you saw kaminari leaving small kisses on jirou’s neck. your heart felt like it was being stabbed for the hundredth time and you tried to ignore them and just focus on the tv screen. you really tried to remain calm, to keep up your act just as you had done all this months, but you lost it when you heard those three damn words leave his lips.

“i love you.”

it was low, barely even audible, but you heard it. you heard it loud and clear. and just like that, with your heart losing every last bit of hope it had, you stood up from your seat abruptly, making everyone look at you, before making your way upstairs without saying another word. all of your classmates looked between them, not only confused, but also concerned. 

“oi shitty hair,” bakugou spoke from his place next to kirishima, who looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “go check up on her.” he muttered and kirishima only nodded before walking upstairs to follow you.

bakugou’s words worried kaminari even more, was there something going on with you that he didn’t know about? was that why you were acting so weird earlier? no way, you told him everything. you were best friends after all...right? and with that question on his mind, he couldn’t focus on the movie or his girlfriend anymore.

you walked towards your room silently, even though you wanted nothing more than to scream and fight someone. you wanted, no, needed to let all of your pent up frustration out. you had been patient enough, putting his happiness before your own for years now, and while you knew it wasn’t his fault at all, you wanted to be mad at him about something. you wanted him to understand that this wasn’t fair, that you could be good for him if he gave you the chance, that you wouldn’t be a waste of his time, but the only thing that was coming out of you were tears.

angry tears stained your face as they furiously ran down your cheeks, reminding you of all the sleepless nights you spent alone, crying your heart out to no one but yourself. you stood in front of your room, hand reaching out to the door’s knob to open it and spend yet another night wondering why the hell you weren’t enough. but a hand stopped you.

kirishima’s grip on your forearm was gentle, but firm enough to let you know he wasn’t going anywhere, and somehow, his touch made you want to cry even more. you tried to push him away, telling him that you were perfectly fine, yet your bloodshot eyes told a whole different story. and as much as you kicked and screamed, kirishima knew the last thing you needed was to be alone.

“let go!” seeing that holding your arms had no effect on you whatsoever, he tried a different approach. his strong arms hugged you to his chest, and, as much as you wanted to deny it, you found comfort in them. “i said let me go, kirishima.” 

“no. y/n listen to me. you need to stop bottling all your feelings up, nothing good will come out of that,” you finally started to relax, breathing heavily as you listened to his words. “it doesn’t matter if you talk, cry, or scream, but you need to voice out how you feel. if it’s not to him, then tell me. i’m always ready to listen.” his voice was so gentle, so soft, yet it held so much emotion and honesty. 

more tears fell down your cheeks as you gripped kirishima’s shirt tightly against your fingers, your face hiding comfortably on his chest. 

“i can’t take this anymore kiri,” you started talking and kirishima was quick to hug you a little tighter, one of his hands rubbing small circles on the small of your back. “i miss him so much, i miss my best friend. and i want him to be happy, i really do, but why must his happiness cause me so much pain?” a sob racked through your whole body after hearing yourself say those words, the ones you never thought you’d voice out to someone. “at first it was fine and i didn’t mind that much, but now? we barely even talk anymore, and when we do it’s always small talk. and we used to talk for hours about everything and anything, we would never get bored when we were together. now it’s like i don’t even exist to him except for when he seems to have some time to spare. did our friendship meant shit to him? because fuck i wasted years of my life loving someone who can’t even notice how much i’ve been struggling.” 

by this point your tears had stained kirishima’s shirt almost completely, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck about that. all that mattered was you and only you. the only thought on his mind was how he was gonna make you feel better. so he held you in his arms a little longer, hoping that somehow his actions could express everything he felt. his free hand came up to caress your hair while he shushed you softly, rocking you two back and forth. 

that’s how the night ended. 

you, with your heart broken in a million pieces, longing for the person who made you feel this way. because you knew you would always love him, maybe even more than you loved yourself. you knew that no matter how much you tried to hate him, you could never even get close to feeling anything but pure adoration for the boy. and if having him in your life implied having to handle all this heartache and hurt, then maybe you could endure it. because for him it was all worth it. 

and a certain redhead with all his feelings caught in his throat. he wanted nothing more than to scream at you for not noticing he understood completely how you felt, way more than you imagined, yet he knew that you would always only have eyes for him. but perhaps that was okay. if the only way to be close to you was comforting you because you loved a guy who was too dense to see what he had in front of him, then so be it. in the end it was all worth it for you.

[lilliagradiewrites]

go get her, kid. (peter parker)

Summary: Peter Parker is hopelessly in love with Tony Starks’ teenage daughter, and Stark encourages him to shoot his shot.

WC: 7.4k (holy shit)

Warnings: Bad language, , really nothing else. A lot of cute peter and a painful amount fluff. A tiny bit of angst too.

A/N: I found myself watching Tom Holland interview clips today and I just couldn’t help myself. Here we are: my first peter parker/ spiderman one shot! I have some Harry and Jj pieces in the works, so keep eyes out for that!

LET’S DO IT!!!

--------

Peter  found himself in this position far too often. Staring at you shamelessly while you worked away at whatever was on your desk, usually a school assignment or some tech project. His crush had been going on for quite some time, but it was getting more and more difficult to hide.

You and Peter had been best friends ever since your dad first recruited him. Something clicked between the two of you, causing an instant friendship. As time went on, you grew closer and closer to the superhero, and he quickly became your best friend. You began surrounding yourself with his friends without even realizing it, becoming close with Ned and MJ almost instantly. They were great people, and you loved being around them, but something about Peter was just different. Your energies matched perfectly for some reason. He got your humour, liked the same things as you, plus he was a great conversationalist and an even better listener. Some of your favorite memories were made with Peter.

Despite knowing practically everything about the boy, you were completely oblivious about his huge crush on you. Ned was the only person who truly knew, though many other people had their suspicions. The Avengers had an idea about it, considering you were what he talked about 90 percent of the time. MJ could tell because of the way he looked at you. When he looked your way, his pupils enlarged, his cheeks went pink, and the look on his face was entirely lovey-dovey. It was so obvious just in the way he gazed at you when you spoke.

He was looking at you in that way now, though you weren’t aware. He was meant to be studying (it was the whole reason he came over to your house, or at least that’s the reason he told you), but he couldn’t bring himself to care about chemistry homework when you looked so damn beautiful. Your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail keeping it away from your face as you worked. Your hands flew across the keyboard on your laptop, typing out something Peter probably wouldn’t understand. He was smart, sure, but you were intelligent in a different way. You were insightful and observant, you got things other people couldn’t begin to process. Your brain understood things in a different capacity than most. Peter assumes you got this trait from your father, who was the exact same way.

“What’re you typing? Something for school?”

You nodded, your attention not wavering from the laptop screen. “Yeah, an assignment for AP Lit.”

“Oh, that one project you told me about? With the essay and the powerpoint?”

You nodded again. “Mhm.”

Peter furrowed his brows, moving off your bed to come stand near you at your desk in an attempt to get a better look at what you were working so eagerly on. “I thought that project wasn’t due for another month.

“It’s not. I had an idea for the essay, and I figured if I get started early, I have more time to edit and perfect it.”

“You’re such a perfectionist.” Peter says with a light chuckle, looking at the state of your desk. It was both chaotic and organized at the same time. Pens, highlighters, pieces of paper, a book with annotations scribbled in the margins, notebooks with neat class notes printed inside of them in your pretty handwriting. They were all scattered about the surface, but Peter knew you well enough to know that there was always a method to your madness. As you observed longer, he realized that all of the items were in different sections on your desk, based on categories and subjects. He smiled lightly, realizing that this messy but technically neat surface was probably a very accurate representation of what goes on in your mind.

You finished the paragraph you were typing with a flourish, a satisfied smile resting on your lips. “There. I have a basic outline done for the essay portion. Obviously, I’ll have to go back and add a little more and elaborate on the points, but the basics are there.”

Peter glanced up at your laptop screen. His eyes were met with a never ending sea of typed out words. He smiled; this was so you. Your ‘outline’ is another student's essay doubled.

“You’re gonna write more than that?”

You looked back at him, and he saw your face for the first time during the encounter. His cheeks went slightly pink at the sight of you, and he prayed that you didn’t notice.

You didn’t, or perhaps you just didn’t say anything. You continued on with the conversation without skipping a beat, and relief washed over Peter because of this.

“Of course I am.” You stated with furrowed brows, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is so boring and basic, and has no detail whatsoever. Anybody who reads the summary of the book online could write this. I want my teacher to know that I thoroughly read and understood the novel, you know? I don’t want to submit some surface-level shit, I want to really pick apart the undertones of and the meaning behind the story.”

Peter nods, pretending to understand what you meant. He’d barely been paying attention to the words you were saying, too encapsulated with your beautiful eyes to do so. You turned back around towards your work, causing your best friend to snap out of his trance-like state.

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I’m bored.”

You had now picked up a pencil and a highlighter, working on the chemistry notes he was supposed to be taking. “Don’t you have work to do, Pete?”

“...No.”

You paused your writing to gaze at him skeptically.

“So you did your book report for english?”

“Yes.”

“Your worksheets for pre-calc?”

“Mhm.”

“You read the assigned chapters for Pschycology and finished the quiz you had to take on them?”

A nod was your only answer.

“What about chem? We have notes, essay questions, assigned reading, and a formulas worksheet due next tuesday. Have you done all of that?”

Peter hesitated for a moment. “Yes, I have.” It was a clear lie. “Can we watch a movie now?”

“There’s no way you did all of that. Go finish your work, and then we can watch a movie.”

A groan escapes Peters lips as he turns, resting against your desk. “But that’ll take forever. Your dad kicks me out at 11:00. We’ll never have time to watch one.” He whines.

You smile slightly, unable to fight it. Not replying to your friend, you spin around in your chair, raising your voice slightly, “FRIDAY, connect to dad please.”, the command directed to nowhere in particular.

“Connecting to Mr. Stark.” The familiar robotic voice echoes throughout your room.

“What’s up, Y/N/N?”

“Hey, Dad? Can Peter stay a bit later tonight?”

“Why?”  Your dad’s voice replies through a hidden speaker, his tone almost accusatory.

“Because he wants to watch a movie but I won’t let him until we’re done with homework. We won’t have enough time to finish the movie if he leaves at normal curfew? Pleeeaseee, Dad?”

You can hear your father sigh. “Fine, but only because it’s not a school night and I’m feeling generous. He’s gotta be gone by one though, no exceptions.”

Both of you smiled widely, and you erupted in cheers. “Thanks, Dad!”

“Kid, be ready for training at eight. A later curfew doesn’t mean an exception from your early morning saturday sessions.” The statement was directed at Peter, who nodded, despite your father not being able to see him.

“Got it, Mr. Stark.”

“FRIDAY, disconnect.” You heard Tony’s voice from the other side.

“Disconnected.” The sound of the AI confirming the command filled your room, and the space fell into a brief silence once again.

You spun in your chair, turning to face Peter with a smug smile on your face. “There, now we can get our work done, and watch a movie. Satisfied?”

Peter nodded, giving a roll of his eyes and heading back over to his workspace on your bed, plopping down and continuing his assignments.

An hour and half later, Peter gave a heavy sigh, finally closing his textbook with a smile. “All done!” he announced proudly.

“With everything?”

“Yes, everything.”

You closed your notebook you’d been working in, standing up. “Great. I’ve been done for half an hour, I’ve been working on future assignments while I waited for you to finish up. Ready to watch that movie?”

Peter nodded excitedly. He loved watching movies with you, because you always cuddled up close to him on your bed while you watched. Peter loved being in close proximity to you, even though it made him a little nervous.

“What do you wanna watch?” He asked, beginning to clear his things off your bed.

“I don’t know. We can discuss while we go make popcorn.”

Peter’s eyes lit up; he loved popcorn.

“Okay!” He tossed the rest of his things in his school bag, zipping it up quickly and dropping it in the corner of your room. “Lets go!”

You chuckled at his childlike behavior, following him out of your bedroom door towards your kitchen. The entire journey down the stairs, down the hall, and to the kitchen was filled with Peter going on and on about movies he wanted to see.

You grabbed the microwave popcorn from the pantry, unwrapping it and tossing it in, starting up the machine.

You continued to listen to Peter as soft popping sounds filled your kitchen.

“Oh, you guys have Disney plus, right? What if we watched that new star wars show thingy? The mandalorian?”

You smiled at this statement. Though you didn’t see the boy in any way but a friend (at least that’s what you told yourself), you found Peter’s Star Wars obsession very cute.

“I mean, I would watch that, but I don’t think I’d understand it.”

Peter’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve never seen the movies.”

You watched in amusement as Peter’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening in shock. “You’ve NEVER seen the Star Wars movies? Are you kidding me, Y/N?”  

You laughed at his reaction, moving to fetch the fully popped popcorn from the microwave and transfer it into a bowl. “No, I’m not kidding. I’ve been meaning to watch them forever, but I guess I never got around to it.”

“I can’t believe this!” Peter exclaims in disbelief. “We’ve been friends for a year and a half now, and you’ve never seen the Star Wars movies? This is insane! I talk about them so much… did you just never understand what I was talking about?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Nope, I never have. I kinda just let you talk about it, because I planned on watching the movies. I figured I’d understand what you meant when I watched them.”

“Holy shit… we’re watching the first one tonight, Y/N. No arguments, we’re doing it.”

You grabbed the now prepared bowl of popcorn, smiling at your friend. “Alright, let’s do it.”

You headed back up the stairs, the sound of your footsteps accompanied with the sound of Peter murmuring in disbelief as you made your way to your room.

Once the two of you arrived at your destination, you closed the door, placing the bowl of popcorn on your still cluttered desk.

Peter climbed into your bed, while you rummaged through your drawers in search of comfy clothes. “I’m gonna change into pj’s before we start, i want to be comfy.”

Peter nodded. “FRIDAY, put Star Wars: The Phantom Menace on Y/N’s TV.” He spoke out in a slightly raised voice. The movie appeared on your screen, waiting to be started as you changed.

A few moments later, you emerged from your bathroom, now wearing a pair of Nike shorts and a slightly oversized t-shirt.

“Y/N, this is about to change your li-” Peter’s voice trailed off as he looked at you. The oversized shirt you were wearing… was his.

He choked on the piece of popcorn he’d been eating. “I-is that my shirt?”

You looked down on what you were wearing, realizing that it was, in fact, Peter's. “Oh shit. Yeah, sorry. You left it at the lab once, dad gave it to me to give to you, and I guess it just got mixed in with my clothes. I’ll wash it and give it back.

Peter shook his head, coughing again. “No, it’s okay. You can keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” his cheeks went pink as he realized what had just left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say the last part.

Your cheeks went even pinker at the compliment, which you couldn’t deny made your stomach flutter a little bit. “Okay, thanks.” You smiled at your friend, climbing into the bed beside him. You cuddled in close to him, probably closer than need be, but Peter didn’t seem to mind.

“FRIDAY, start the movie.”

---

A few hours later, the credits were rolling, and Peter was red in the face. You had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, and had moved even closer to him in your slumber. You were now full-on cuddling the boy, and he had no idea what to do. Your leg was moved over his, your head lay on his chest. One arm thrown around his waist. He liked having you this close, but his stomach was in a constant state of butterflies, and he was worried that the sound of his heart beating loudly in his chest would wake you.

He didn’t know what time it was, but it must’ve been close to one, because a knock sounded from the other side of your bedroom door.

Without waiting for an answer, Tony entered the room. “Alright, kids, it’s almost curfew, time to wrap it up…”

His eyes landed on you and Peter, cuddled up in your bed.

“Kid, what the hell is going on here?”

“Mr. Stark! Um, Y/N fell asleep while we were watching the movie and she kinda… I don’t know.. Ended up like this? Nothing’s going on, I swear, it’s just… I didn’t want to wake her up…”

Peter’s face was the color of a tomato at this point. Stark still had his suspicions about the boy’s intentions, but had a feeling that Peter was telling the truth. “Alright, then. You’d better get your ass home and get some sleep. Like I said, you don’t get a free pass from training because you were cuddling with my daughter till one am.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “No, Mr. Stark, I- We weren’t… I Wasn’t…”

Stark chuckled at the boy’s flustered state. “I’m screwing with you, Kid. Now get the hell out of my house. I’ll see you at 8 AM sharp at the compound”

Peter nodded frantically. “Yes, sir. 8 AM. Got it.”

Tony turned and left without another word, leaving Peter slightly panicked. Did Mr. Stark think that something was going on between him and Y/N? Would he be mad if there was? Peter didn’t know what to think, but he knew that he should probably leave before Tony decided to come back.

Peter climbed carefully out from underneath Y/N, setting her head gently on her pillow. He tried his very best not to wake her as he moved out of the bed.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Love you lots.” Peter whispered to his ‘best friend’, planting a sweet kiss on her forehead. With that, he slid your window open, climbing out of it and swinging his way home.

Peter was completely oblivious to the fact that Tony had been standing quietly outside your door when Peter said his goodbyes, and Tony saw the entire encounter. The ‘goodnight’, the ‘i love you’, the sweet forehead kiss.

Tony had his suspicions, but that night it was confirmed: his newest recruit had it bad for his daughter.

Strangely, Tony didn’t find himself terribly angry over it.

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of your alarm blaring frustratingly loud. You groaned at the noise, picking up your phone to turn it off. The time on your phone screen read 7:00 AM. Groaning again, you pulled yourself reluctantly out of bed. As much as you hated getting up out of bed, you knew you had to if you ever wanted to complete your training. Your father had promised you that you’d get a spot on his team if you trained hard enough, and you were extremely determined. It had been your dream for years to become an Avenger, so you had been training your ass off for months to earn your spot.

This is how all of your Saturdays had begun for many weeks. An alarm going off at seven in the morning, waking you up to get ready for training at eight. It was a normal routine for you at this point, but for some reason the early wake up never got easier.

You moved about your regular morning routine, heading straight for your bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Once your basic hygiene was done, you brushed through your hair, changed into some clothes (your training uniform was at the compound), grabbed your phone, and headed downstairs.

You made a beeline for the kitchen, where your father was already making his morning coffee. When he noticed your presence, he gave you a tired smile.

“Morning, Y/N/N. Sleep well?”

Still half asleep, you gave an exhausted nod. “I shouldn’t have stayed up that late last night. I’ll yell at Peter when I see him. He always manages to convince me to let him stay late.”

For some reason, your father gave a light chuckle at your words. “I bet he does, sweetheart.”

Your brows furrowed at his statement. Something about his tone of voice didn’t sit right with you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, making your way over to fix yourself a cup of coffee.

Your father smiled smugly at you, passing over the coffee pot and a mug. “Nothing, honey. Be ready in fifteen.”

Still suspicious, your eyes followed him as he placed his coffee mug in the sink and moved from the room. Why was he acting like this? Did Peter do something last night? You remembered falling asleep halfway through the movie, not being able to make it through the whole thing. Had something happened while you were sleeping?

Deciding not to let it bother you, you pushed the interaction from your mind, focusing solely on fixing your coffee. You were barely functional without it, and you knew you needed to be fully aware for training. You had to prove to your father that you could keep up with the Avengers, and that you’d be a useful asset to their team.

You downed the coffee quickly, knowing you had only a few minutes left to get ready. When your father gave you a time warning, he always meant it. And, you knew all too well, he would leave you behind if you were going to make him late.

He’d done it twice before.

Once you had finished chugging the remnants of your coffee, you placed the mug neatly in the sink, right beside where your father had left his. The drink had been an instant pick-me-up, and you automatically felt more awake. You found yourself getting more and more excited for the day ahead of you. Though waking up early on saturday mornings was a pain in the ass, you did enjoy training. You got to exercise, learn about cool technology, and screw around with your best friend. What wasn’t there to like?

Now that your best friend had crossed your mind, you pulled out your phone to text him. You sent him a message every morning, or he sent one to you. It was just a thing the two of you did. Over the past year the two of you had been close, it became some sort of routine.

Y/N/N: morning spidey. u awake?

Within moments, he was typing out a reply. He always answered your messages quickly.

Spidey: yes i am :) ready for training? I’m gonna kick ur ass in sprints today

You chuckled lightly at his response. You and Peter had always been insanely competitive towards each other, and it really jumped out during training. Unfortunately for you, Peter usually won the challenges. You always blamed it on the fact that he had more experience and super strength; he blamed it on the fact that ‘you suck’ and ‘he’s just that awesome’.

Y/N/N: u can try, but idk how that will work out. I’ve beaten u in all of the other sprints for weeks.

Spidey: doesn’t matter. I’m showing out today

Spidey: bring ur a-game, irongirl.

You smiled at the message.

Y/N/N: always do, spiderboy

He started typing back immediately, and you knew exactly why. He called you irongirl to screw with you, so you had begun calling him spiderboy to get on his nerves. It worked every time.

Spidey: Y/N!!! It’s spiderman!!!

Y/N/N: spiderboy!!! It’s nova!!!

Spidey: ugh. Ur impossible.

You grinned widely. Your playful banter with Peter has always been one of your favorite parts of the friendship.

Y/N/N: but u love me anyways :)))) see u soon

Spidey: u better be glad i do. see u soon

You reread the texts, unable to fight the smile on your face. Everytime you interact with Peter, you remember how much you truly love him. Being an avenger, and the daughter of one of the smartest and most famous men on the planet, wasn’t easy. Peter was the only one who had a taste of the madness that was your life. Having him around was having a sense of normalcy, and so were incredibly grateful for him.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your voice being called from the front door of your house.

“Y/N! Time to leave!” Without hesitation, you locked your phone, slipping it into the pocket of your sweatpants.

You hurried towards the front door, not wanting to be left behind again. When you arrived, your father was already standing there, holding the door open. You gave him a smile and a quick thank you for holding the door, then made your way out. The driver was already waiting patiently in front of your house. This was one of your dad’s six drivers.

“Morning, Bernard.” You say kindly to the driver, climbing into the back seat of the range rover. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing wonderful, Y/N. How are you?” The older man replied. You really liked Bernard, he was one of your favorite drivers. He was an older man, in his mid seventies, and you found him to be the sweetest person in the universe. Sometimes, he’d bring you your favorite candy when he used to pick you up from school, and he was always so considerate and kind.

“I’m good. Tired, but good.”

The man smiled at your reply. By this point, your dad had finished locking up the front door of the house, and he climbed in the backseat beside you.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” Bernard said professionally to his new passenger, and your dad nodded as a reply.

“Morning, bernard.”

The conversation ended there between the two men. Your father wasn’t a very social person with people he didn’t know, and Bernard was aware of this fact. He mostly talked to you when you were in the car, and Tony went on his phone and did Lord knows what.

“How is Dorothy doing? Is she feeling better?” You asked the man as he began pulling out of your driveway. Dorothy was Bernard’s wife, and she’d gotten sick the week prior. Given her age, Bernard was very worried about her.

Bernard smiled at your question. “Much, much better. They released her from the hospital yesterday, she’s back home and doing great. Thanks for asking.”

“Of course!” You grinned back. “Did you ever find out what she had?”

“Pneumonia, just a very bad case of it.”

You nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m glad she’s better! I was worried when you first told me.”

The conversation continued, talking about anything and everything as you drove to the compound. He told you about his wife, his four kids and what they’re doing. His granddaughter had a baby a few days before, and he was extremely excited about it.

After a 20 minute drive, you pulled up to the building you knew so well. Bernard went to the normal procedure of getting through the front gates, and then pulled up to the front of the compound.

“Well, here we are.” Bernard announced, parking the vehicle. You and your father began climbing out of the backseat.

“Thank you, bernard. Tell your granddaughter I said congratulations!”

He wished you a kind goodbye, and then you were gone, leaving the car and heading towards the compound.

When you walked into the main section of the building, you spotted your best friend in the kitchen. You had to admit, he looked incredible, standing near an open window in the early morning light. He was already dressed in his sleek, black training uniform. It was tight against his body, showing off his muscled body. Sometimes, you forget how beautiful Peter is.

“You’re staring…” A singsong voice came in your ear. You whipped your head towards the voice to see your father walking away from you, smirking. You stood there, feeling slightly confused. Had you really been staring at Peter?

At times, you forget that Peter is only your best friend. The two of you act like an old married sometimes. You spend all of your time together, and you know each other so well.

Strange feelings you couldn’t understand had crept up on you before, especially recently. You couldn’t deny Peter was attractive, and he was a great person, too. How could you not love him? The issue is, you found yourself loving him in a different way than before…

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. You couldn’t be thinking about this right now, it’s not the place or time. Peter was standing right in front of you, and you needed to be focused for training.

You could process your feelings and emotions at a later time.

You began walking up to Peter, who was leaning up against the counter holding a cup of coffee.

“Morning, loser.” You said teasingly, greeting your friend. His head snapped in your direction, and he smiled when his eyes found you. (You thought you could see his cheeks go pink, too, but you forced yourself to ignore it.)

“Hey! How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good.” You replied, leaning against the counter beside him. “I didn’t even notice that you left last night, I was really out. Did my Dad come in and tell you to leave?”

The pink in Peter’s cheeks darkened at your statement. Of course, this was the perfect time for your father to reenter the room. “Yeah, I did. He seemed very comfortable, but I kicked him out at one.”

Peter and your father were making direct eye contact. Your dad had that stupid smirk on his face, and peter was bright red.

You looked between the two of them, not knowing what to think. Before, you were just suspicious, but now it was confirmed: something happened last night between the two of them, and you were determined to find out what.

Hours later, you’re completely exhausted from training. You worked your ass off, and had successfully beat Peter in sprints.

“That’s right! You lost! How amazing is spiderboy now?”

Peter rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “Whatever, Y/N. I let you win.”

Your jaw dropped. “You did not! I won because I’m better!”

Peter just smiled at you. You took a swig of the water bottle in your hands, turning around to look at your friend as you did.

The sight you were met with was very sweet. Peter stood there, smiling at you with a look you could only describe as adoration. You looked back at him, a small grin resting on your face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” The brunette boy says cheekily.

“Why are YOU looking at ME like that, Parker?”

You took a step closer to him, his eyes widening slightly at your movement. He said nothing in response to your question (though it felt more like an accusation), and you smiled again.”Got nothing to say?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“Parker!” You jumped what felt like 20 feet in the air at the sound of Natasha’s voice, breaking up the little moment between you and Peter.

You stepped back away from him, and you couldn’t help but notice the sadness flash across his face before he turned to the other woman in the room.

“Yeah, Nat?”

“Tony needs your help in the lab. I believe his exact words were ‘he needs to be here in five or I’ll kill him.’ A few minutes have already passed, I’d start running if I were you.”

Peter’s eyes widened for the second time. “Oh, shit, okay. Thanks, Nat.” He turned his head quickly in your direction. “I’ll meet you in your room when I’m done, okay?”

You nodded with a smile. Peter planted a quick kiss on your forehead before jetting off in the direction of the lounge.

Grinning to yourself, you turned towards the sink, your back facing Natasha. You begin cleaning out your now empty water bottle, thinking over the previous interaction with Peter. You loved when he kissed your forehead.

“So, how long have you liked him?” You were so deep in thought, Natasha’s voice made you jump once again. When you’d fully processed her words, your cheeks went pink.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. I know you like him.”

“Like who?” Play dumb. That’ll throw her off your trail… right?

“Peter! Come on, you’re caught. Just admit it, Y/n, you’re making things harder on yourself.”

Finally, you sighed. Drying your hands on a towel, you turned reluctantly back towards Nathasha. “Is it really that obvious?”

The woman broke out into a grin at your words. “Of course it is! You two are hopelessly in love with each other. It’s almost hard to watch.”

Your cheeks went pink at her statement. “With each other? Oh, no. You mean I’m hopelessly in love with him. It’s not mutual. I’m just his best friend.”

Nat rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on! ‘Just his best friend’ my ass. He loves you, Y/N. He’s even more obvious than you are.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I promise you’re wrong.”

She looked at you pointedly. “I was right about you, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but…” Your voice trailed off. You couldn’t argue with that. Nat grinned smugly at your reaction.

“That’s what I thought. Please confess to him when he meets you in your room later. It’s painful to watch, I can’t do it any longer.” And with that, Natasha was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Was it really thought obvious? Could everyone tell how you felt about peter? You could hardly even tell how you felt about him; the line between best friend and crush had been blurred for so long. If everyone could tell that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend, you would be incredibly embarrassed.

Even worse… what if Peter could tell that your in love with him?

You shook your head, as if clearing your thoughts. No. You couldn’t think like that. Of course he didn’t know; he would’ve said something.

Right?

Sighing, you walked off towards your room to take a shower, pretending you weren’t going to think of him while you were in there.

---

While Natasha was exposing your feelings, you were completely oblivious to the fact that Tony was doing the same thing to Peter in the lab.

When the boy walked in, Peter fully expected that he was being called for one of three reasons.

One: Tony had a new mission for Peter.

Two: Tony needed help with an experiment.

Or, three (the scariest option): Tony wanted to scold him for (albeit unintentionally) cuddling with his daughter the night before.

Peter could only be described as apprehensive as he walked carefully into the lab, where Tony was hunched over a table, working on something that Peter couldn’t see.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter spoke nervously, a timid way of letting Tony know of his presence. “Nat said you needed me. Is that true, or was she just trying to get rid of me?”

“No, no, I called for you.” Tony replied. He made a few last touches on whatever he was working on, then turned around towards peter. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Okay, option two is eliminated. Now, the question at hand is: will it be option one or three?

“Oh, okay. What about?” Peter said casually (or at least, that's how he hoped it came across.)

Tony gave a pointed look to the boy before speaking again. “My daughter.”

Peter’s eyes widened slightly.

Shit, shit, shit.

Option three it is.

“Is this about last night sir? I swear I can explain-” Peter was quickly speaking.

But, before he could finish, Tony was cutting him off.

“This isn’t about last night, kid. I mean, it kind of is, but not really.”

Peter’s brow furrowed.

Unknown option number four?

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I saw what happened before you left last night. The forehead kiss, the ‘I love you,’ all of it.”

Peter was bright red in seconds. “Oh…”

“Do you love my daughter, Peter?”

The boy’s cheeks somehow managed to go a darker shade of pink.

“I-I uh.. O-of course I do, she’s, uh, she’s my best friend.” Peter stammered out.

Tony narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I mean, Peter.” The man says, his tone borderline accusatory. “Do you love her, love her?”

Silence. Peter didn’t know what to say, so he opted for nothing at all.

“I already know the answer, Peter, so you might as well just come out and say it.”

Peter pondered his next move. If he played his cards wrong, this conversation could end in him losing his life. Tony Stark was not one to be messed with, especially when it comes to Y/N.

On the other hand, Tony Stark was not one to be lied to, either.

Peter sighed, accepting his fate. “How did you know?”

Much to Peter’s surprise, Tony gave a small smile. “I see the way you look at her, kid. I’ve looked at many girls like that in my day. That enamoured look. You're in love with my daughter, and I have some questions.”

“Questions?”

“Yes, questions, kid. Keep up.”

Peter nodded. “Alright.”

“How long?” Tony asked.

“How long…?” Peter didn’t understand what Tony was aking.

“How long have you been in love with Y/N! How long have you known?”

Peter looked away, breaking eye contact momentarily out of nerves.

When did he begin loving you? Now that he’s truly thinking about it, he can’t really remember.

Maybe it was the first mission that the two of you did together, back when you still known as irongirl. It was a bank robbery, an easy task that Tony had given for your very first mission.

Maybe it was that one time when you dragged him out of bed at 6 AM so that you could show him your favorite coffee shop.

Perhaps it was when you took that faithful mission to Asgard, when you gained your powers accidentally, earning your new title as Nova.

Or, it could be the time that you and him stayed up late binge watching a show he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you that night. You looked so beautiful that night, getting excited as something cool happened in the show. Your hair was tied back, wearing an oversized shirt, your face makeup free. He couldn’t help but smile as you laughed, and didn’t think he’d ever heard a more beautiful sound in the world.

Yeah, he thinks it was that night.

“Um… about ten months ago, I think? That’s when I realized, but I think I’ve loved her for longer. I just forced myself not to acknowledge it, I guess.”

Tony nodded in understanding. “I get that. What is it about her?”

Another question the boy had to think about.

“There’s a lot of things, I think. Like how excited she gets when she talks about things she’s passionate about. Oh, and the way she laughs when something’s funny in a movie or a show or something. And the way she sends me memes or videos that she thinks are funny. They’re usually not very funny, but of course I think it’s hilarious just because she sent it to me. And she always listens to me when I talk, even if I’m talking about something stupid and boring like science stuff I think is interesting. She talks back to me like she cares what I’m saying, and I know she probably doesn’t, but she acts like she does, and that’s enough. She always drags me out to go on adventures, or, at least, that’s what she calls them. Usually it’s just going to get coffee or try out some new restaurant she heard about but it’s still fun. She’s just so amazing, and I think she makes me the best version of myself.”

The rant ended, and for a moment, Peter forgot that Tony was even in the room.

“Damn. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m impressed, kid. To be honest, I expected some shallow answer like ‘she looks hot in her suit’ or something like that.”

“No, sir. Of course, she’s beautiful, but Y/N is just so much more than that.”

Tony gave another sweet smile to the boy in front of him.

“She likes you, too, you know.”

Peter’s head snapped toward Tony again.

What the hell did he just say?

“What?”

“Y/N. She likes you.”

“No way. She just sees me as her best friend. I’m probably like a brother to her. She doesn’t like me like that.”

“But she does, kid. I know my daughter better than I know myself. She is head over heels for you, spidey. Which is why you should tell her how you feel.”

“Tell her how I feel? Why would I do that?”

“Because she likes you, too, and then you two will be stupid kids in love.”

“Are you serious?”

“Aren’t I always?”

Peter paused for a moment. “I thought you’d kill me when you found out I liked your daughter, not convince me to go talk to her about it.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, kid. I brought you in here with the intention of killing you, or just telling you to stay away from my daughter. But after you went on that little rant about why you loved her, I just couldn’t tell you to keep away from her. You really love her, kid, I can tell. So go talk to her.”

“You’re sure you won’t be mad if I ask her out?”

Tony shook his head and smiled.

“Go get her, kid.”

-------

Freshly clean and feeling a significant amount better, you sat on your bed scrolling on your phone. Thoughts of Peter had begun to fade (mainly because you forced them out of your mind) and that helped to keep you from stressing about what’s to come.

You had decided to confess how you feel to Peter.

True, this plan could ruin everything. Today could be the day you lost your best friend, and that thought made you want to cry.

But today could also be the day you finally get to kiss the boy you’ve loved forever, and that thought also made you want to cry.

You didn't have much time to think about it further, however, because Peter was knocking on your bedroom door.

“Y/N? It’s me. Can I come in?”

You paused immediately, your heart rating speeding up.

Oh, shit. This is it. This could be the beginning or the end of you and Peter Parker.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. It was now or never.

“Yeah, Petey, come on in.”

The door opened, and the boy you loved so much walked in. His cheeks were pink, you noticed. His cheeks only went pink when he’s nervous. Why was he nervous?

You could tell by his damp hair that he had also showered before coming to your room.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He rushes out.

Oh.

“Same.” is your reply. What else are you meant to say?

“Oh, really? Well, uh, you can go first. I’ll wait.”

You shook your head frantically. “No, you first. You said it first, so it’s only right that you go.”

Peter’s hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it. Another nervous habit of his.

“Can I sit down?”

You nodded. Why was he even asking? Usually he’d just plop down whenever he pleased, no questions asked. This behavior was very out of character for the boy you knew so well.

The boy sat down on the edge of your bed, and then took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I just have to. I don’t want you to hate me, and I really hope this doesn’t affect our friendship, but…”

Peter paused for a moment, and looked into your eyes. They were brimming with concern, and he just couldn’t hold it back anymore. He broke the eye contact you’d been maintaining, mustered up all the courage he could, and then blurted it out.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for I don’t know how long. I wasn’t planning on telling you, because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but it was starting to get physically painful and I just- I can’t hide it anymore. I love you and I’m sorry.”

Peter clenched his eyes shut, unable to look at your face. He waited (very anxiously) for a reaction, but it never came. Eventually, he opened his eyes, gaining the burst of bravery it took to look at you.

Your jaw was dropped, the expression on your face unreadable.

Oh, no. No no no no no. He’d fucked up. He fucked everything up and now you were never going to speak to him again. He’d lost you. Damn you, Tony Stark.

“Y/N…” He began his apology solemnly. “I’m-”

But he never got to finish his sentence.

Because you were pouncing on him before he had the chance to.

You were on him within seconds, kissing him with so much intensity that he fell back on the bed. He was taken aback for a moment, but quickly kissed you back.

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, wrapped in one another, kissing like there was no tomorrow.

A kiss that made up for all the ones both of you had longed to have in the months before.

You pulled away gently, looking into Peter’s eyes.

“I have loved you for so fucking long, Peter. I was going to tell you that I loved you today.”

“Are you serious?”

You laughed lightly. “Of course I’m serious, you dumbass.”

“Hey!” Peter feigned offense.

You pecked his lips. “You’re a cute dumbass, though.” And then you were kissing him again, and it’s all you could’ve asked for.

----

After a while, the two of you had finally tired each other out, and now you sat cuddled against each other on your bed. No movie or show was playing; it was just you and Peter, listening to each other’s breathing and the sound of your heartbeats.

You looked up at the beautiful boy you were cuddling with, only to find he was already looking down at you.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out, Parker?”

Peter’s eyes widened, and his cheeks went red (for the millionth time that day.)

“Oh, yeah, I- I just thought- nevermind, uh- Y/N, will-”

“Yes, of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Petey.” You cut him off, saving him a few extra minutes of nervous stammering.

He smiled sheepishly at you, then leaned down to bring you into a kiss.

You cuddled back down into his chest, smiling warmly.

You can confidently say that right now, in this moment, you are the happiest you’ve ever been.

[vibrant-leaf]

Sleepoverrr!!

🧡 ~KiriBaku Drabble~ ❤️

Summary: Kirishima invites Bakugou over to his room for a sleepover and they have soft moments of mutual pining.

Word count: 1759

Warnings: cursing

My song choice for this one is New Light by John Mayer. Enjoy!

Shitty-Hair [8:13 pm]

I’m bored

Bakubro [8:14 pm]

I’m busy.

Shitty-Hair [8:14 pm]

What should we do

Bakubro [8:14 pm]

Homework.

Shitty-Hair [8:15 pm]

Noooo thats boring

Bakubro [8:15 pm]

Thats too damn bad

Shitty-Hair [8:17 pm]

Let’s have a sleepover! :D

Bakugou raised an eyebrow at his phone. A sleepover? He didn’t really know what to say. He had never gone to a sleepover before. Of course, he had classmates that he was sort of friends with but he never invited them over to his house… and they never invited him over neither- but whatever. Sleepovers sounded stupid anyway.

Bakubro [8:20 pm]

The fuck? No.

Shitty-Hair [8:20 pm]

Awww come on :( I’ll do my homework if you come over!

Bakubro [8:21 pm]

You’re gonna have to do it either way dumbass. Unless you want all my hard work of tutoring you to go to waste.

Shitty-Hair [8:21 pm]

Of course I don’t but pleeaase???

After seeing his message being left on read for a torturous twenty minutes, Kirishima let out a disappointing sigh as he dropped his phone onto his bed. He was starting to feel bummed out, unable to help the slightest twinge of ache in his chest. He was really hopeless at this point. It was the weekend so they didn’t have any classes and because of their internships, Kirishima didn’t get to see Bakugou at all that day. Only a single day and he was already missing his best friend like crazy. Yep… hopeless.

There was a knock on Kirishima’s door and he sprang up out of bed and hoped it was him. He opened the door and saw Bakugou standing there with a textbook and notebook in one arm and a pillow underneath the other. Kirishima’s face instantly brightened up and his eyes glimmered with excitement.

“Homework first before anything.”

“Yes sir!”

The boys finished their homework after some confused grumbling from one party and annoyed grumbling from the other party. They were now sitting on Kirishima’s bed, playing Mario Kart. Bakugou was winning of course but damn, Kirishima was giving him a run for his money.

“It is insane to me how your brain processes information.”

“Heyyy come on man... I’m doing my best you know?” Kirishima was frustrated with himself by the time they finished up their work. He was just starting to relax again while playing the game but Bakugou’s comment honestly did not help.

“I’m not calling you stupid, shitty-hair. I’m serious. People process information differently from everyone else and it may be only a little different between two people but then not even fucking close between others.” Bakugou said with eyes still focusing hard on the game.

“Yeah, alright,” Kirishima mumbled but there was still doubt in his voice and Bakugou could see the slight frown on his face. Bakugou’s brain tripped up while looking at his unhappy friend. His brain instantly decided the sight was wrong, out of place, like the one frame on a wall of pictures was crooked and it was bothering him so, of course, he had to straighten it out.

“Oi. Seriously. I didn’t mean for it to sound like the other way.” Thankfully Kirishima’s face softened a little… but the picture frame was still slightly off.

At the last stretch of the last lap, Bakugou’s finger may or may not have slipped off the accelerator button causing his car’s speed to let off a little but just enough for Kirishima to be able to pull ahead at the least second and manage to win the race. Kirishima threw his hands up in victory. “Yes! Finally! Haha!” A smile was returned to Kirishima’s face with any signs of negative emotion now gone. There… now everything was how it should be, the wall of pictures was now pleasant and satisfying to look at it.

“What the fuck?! How?! I should have fucking won that shit! Whatever, I’m done playing.” Bakugou protested loudly to cover up any hint of letting Kirishima win and wrap up their game; it was late, he was tired and ready for some much-needed sleep.

“Wow, such a sore loser. Wins all the other races but quits after losing just one.” Kirishima teased.

“Shut up.” Bakugou had to fight the urge to challenge him to one more race so he could be the one to end on the high note. “I had a long day and just wanna relax now.” He turned his controller off and set it beside him.

“Yeah, I feel you, man. Internship kicked my butt today and then I had to endure your tutoring,” Kirishima joked as he put his gaming console to rest mode.

“My teaching methods are working though, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are. So thank you. I always appreciate you taking the time to help me.”

Bakugou crossed his arms against his chest and looked away. He grumbled out an “it’s fine,” before anything else with, ew, feelings, slipped out of his mouth. A moment of comfortable silence passed through them before Kirishima spoke up again.

“I wanna build a fort.”

“We’re not fucking twelve.”

“And? You don’t need to be a kid to enjoy a blanket fort. I like to make one every now and then and use my string lights to set up a cool vibe.” Kirishima opened his closet to get a couple of blankets out. “Can you go get your desk chair?”

Bakugou stared at him unamused for a moment before huffing and rolling his eyes but getting up off the bed to go get his stupid chair.

By the time they were done setting up their decently sized fort, Bakugou was sort of starting to understand the appeal of sleepovers and even blanket forts, but he made the appearance of boredom stay put on his face… that was until Kirishima turned on his little lights.

Soft blues, purples, and pinks lit up the dark area around them and Bakugou would’ve been lying to himself if he thought that this “vibe” was anything less than fucking enchanting, and he totally wasn’t expecting it. It felt like he was just thrown into the middle of a painting of a galaxy and Kirishima was the focal point of everything. He really couldn’t help the way he was instantly drawn into the sight. The way the hues of the light made Kirishima’s hair look like a slightly darker shade of burgundy, how different colored lights twinkled in his eyes, and the way Kirishima looked so damn captivating at that moment. It all did questionable things to his stomach and chest. He was almost at a loss for words. “Not red?” was the only thing his brain could come up with while it was being bewitched.

“I have some yellow, orange, and red lights if you want me to get those, but I figured since we’re going to sleep soon the blue and purple would be nice and calming.” A soft smile spread across Kirishima’s face and it really wasn’t helping Bakugou’s situation at all, only falling deeper under whatever spell Kirishima had to have been casting. Did his best friend have a secret second quirk he never told anyone about? No- impossible. Kirishima didn’t seem to be the type of person to hide something so big like that, especially from Bakugou.

“Yeah... these are nice… I guess. Whatever.” He had to force himself to look away to try to shake out of whatever trance he was in. Shit. Fuck. What was happening to him? Oh no. No no no. He was so smitten right now, wasn’t he? Dammit. Why was this happening?

“So did something happen today at your internship that made your day crummy?” Kirishima positioned his pillow on the floor and laid down on his back with his hands behind his neck. Bakugou looked at the beautiful sight before him yet again and his initial panic was swept away with feelings of warmth and contentment.

Yes, Bakugou was smitten for the boy in front of him but he couldn’t seem to care much at that point. He laid down on his own pillow and started complaining about his long day. He was comfortable, despite feeling so exhausted from the day’s adventures. The words flowed out of him in a new way that he never experienced when he was talking to his sort-of-friends in the past. He truly couldn’t help it. It was just the way that Kirishima was able to center him, and what was he currently doing to cause this? Literally just existing. Laying there and looking into Bakugou’s eyes in a way that made Bakugou hopeful he was feeling somewhat enchanted by the moment too.

Little to Bakugou’s knowledge, Kirishima felt like he was gazing upon the most wondrous being in the universe. And he realized he was the luckiest person alive. He was the one to have the privilege of lifting Bakugou up off the floor and into Kirishima’s bed after he fell asleep from Kirishima talking about any random things his brain thought about. Kirishima was the one to have the privilege of seeing Bakugou’s face so relaxed and soft as he slept. Kirishima wished he could reach out to him and bring him closer. Maybe he could… or maybe he should just count his blessings in this current moment.

But something graced Kirishima with a stroke of courage that made him scoot closer to his best friend so he could gently pull him into his chest. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Bakugou’s eyes flutter open just a tad before watching him nuzzle his face deeper into Kirishima’s form as he sighed through his nose and let out a small satisfied hum.

Kirishima’s face grew hot and he had to scrunch his face to keep him from making any embarrassing squealing noises. But once his heart and mind calmed down he looked back down at Bakugou’s head and started to lightly pet his hair. Of course his hair had to be incredibly soft, just another thing to make him die on the inside from cuteness and add to the list of things he liked about Bakugou. The list was already long but it was growing alarmingly quick during the past few weeks.

As Kirishima laid there, he thought about that list again for probably the tenth night in a row (he sort of lost count) and continued to run his fingers through blonde hair until his movements became more languid and sleep eventually overtook him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone

A/N  Another long drive, another Outlander fanfic idea that dropped into my brain out of nowhere, shoving aside the historical AU I have been wrestling with for months.  Here’s the pitch: Claire Beauchamp is a psychiatrist specializing in grief counselling.  Jamie Fraser is referred to her by his sister, who is worried for his well-being after a series of family tragedies.  You can probably guess the rest, but I’m going to write it anyway.   The title is taken from a song by the amazing Phantogram that was playing as the story idea came to me.

After losing my WIP virginity posting Ginger Snap, I’m going out on that limb again and posting this first chapter with only a rough outline mapped out in my head.  You people are a terrible influence!  Also, there will be some trigger warnings on future chapters, so please watch out for those.   And now, on with our show.

Claire Beauchamp glanced down at the leather-bound calendar open on her desk.  The ivory page for Thursday was packed to the margins, each hourly block filled with the name of a patient followed by a series of cuneiform symbols she used to remind herself of the last session, course of treatment, overall progress, all while maintaining strict confidentiality.  Not even Geillis Duncan, her office administrator and very good friend, knew how to decode the script.

Geillis liked to laugh at the old-fashioned day planner, reminding Claire that their practice utilized software that could perform the same function electronically, but she enjoyed the act of physically logging each session.  The solid heft of her Mont Blanc pen in her hand, a medical school graduation gift from her Uncle Lamb.  The scratch and grab of the nub as it bled black ink over virgin paper.  It was a tactile ceremony in a detached world.  Geillis would nod and then tell her she needed to get laid.

Speak of the devil, a sharp rap on her office door was followed by the appearance of her strawberry blonde head. blue eyes alight with mischief.

“Yer two o’clock is here.  Did ye need more time tae finish bolting down tha’ chaff ye call a salad, or can I show him in?”

“It’s kale,” she defended.  “It’s full of anti-oxidants.”

A disdainful scoff was the only response.

“Yes, Geil, please show Mister...” she glanced down at her planner, “...Fraser in, thank you.”

The tiny rectangle contained only a name, which meant this was their first appointment.  Geillis vetted all prospective patients, but Claire preferred to go into the first meeting blind, with no assumptions or pre-conceptions.  

She wondered what misfortune had caused Mr. Fraser to seek out her psychiatric services.  The death of a child, perhaps, or the end of an extra-marital affair.  People grieved for very different reasons and worked through or around that grief with a surprising variety of coping mechanisms.   Most called upon her practice in much the same way they would a breakdown truck when their car’s engine failed.  They simply wanted to get back on the road to happiness.

Despite the degrees and accreditations that decorated her office wall, Claire wasn’t certain such a thing was possible.  In her experience, grief was a phantom limb that never really went away.  The best one could hope for was to learn healthier ways of living with it.  

The sound of Geillis clearing her throat snapped her back to the present.

“Was there something else, Geil?”

“Och, no’ really.  Just, when yer considerin’ how tae thank me later on, remember tha’ my favourite stone is an emerald, that I prefer gold tae silver, but platinum is ne’er amiss.”

“What are you on about, Duncan?”  But her friend had already disappeared back into the reception area, leaving behind only the glow of her Cheshire smile.  Claire was shaking her head, bemused, when another knock rang out, this one considerably heavier than the first.

“Come in,” she called as she looked up.  And up.  And up some more.

The man who now practically filled her office door had to be at least six foot four, with powerful shoulders and a broad torso encased in a blue henley.  His nearly endless legs were likewise muscular, as testified by the stretch of his jeans across each thigh.  As if his physique wasn’t remarkable enough, he had a head of outrageously wavy red hair, worn long enough to graze the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck, but swept back from a high brow by a judicious use of product.  His face was angular in a pleasingly unique way, with a day or two’s growth of beard counter-balancing an almost youthful, earnest appearance.  But his most striking feature by far were his aquamarine eyes that shimmered like a tropical sea.  Eyes that were currently observing her with perplexity.

“Dr. Beauchamp?” a deep Scottish brogue inquired.  He pronounced it as though she were French.

“Yes,” she startled.  “That’s me.  And it’s pronounced Beecham.  Please, come in Mister Fraser.”  She shuffled a few items around her desk needlessly as she tried to compose herself.  Damn Geillis for not giving her a bit more warning that her newest client was some sort of fitness model.

“Thank ye,” he replied.  “An’ it’s pronounced Jamie, if ye please.”   She added wit to the growing list of the man’s attributes.

If anything, he grew even more impressive as he approached.  She could see he was nervous, although hiding it well.  His striking eyes darted about the room, trying to get a sense of his environment.  She indicated the well-upholstered armchair that sat to one side of her desk.

“Have a seat,” she invited.

With a surprising amount of grace for one so tall, he eased into the chair but didn’t lean back.  The fingers of his left hand tapped restlessly against his thigh.  She watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak.  This was a trick she had learned when she first started practicing psychiatry, but in this case it also allowed her to continue her appraisal.  He was, she concluded, the most attractive man she’d ever seen in the flesh.

“No couch,” he finally observed.

“No.  That’s a bit of a Hollywood trope, I’m afraid.  Lying prone in front of a stranger is hardly conducive to feeling at ease.”

He nodded his acceptance of her logic, but was otherwise silent.

“So,” she spoke at last, unable to wait him out, “what caused you to seek out counselling, Jamie?”  His name suited him, she thought as she spoke it for the first time.  Both boyish and imposing at once.

“I didna.  Twas my sister, Jenny, who insisted I see a doctor.”  His mobile mouth twisted into a grimace.  She could imagine the sibling discord that such a demand would have caused.  Whoever this Jenny was, she was made of strong stuff.  Unfortunately for her, a hostile patient would receive no benefit from merely visiting her office.  Counselling was a participatory process, and she could tell from the stubborn set of Jamie’s shoulders that he had no intention of participating.

“I see,” she said carefully.  “Well, it’s your time and your dime, Mr. Fraser.  This session lasts for forty-five minutes, and you’ve not been here for five.  There’s a carafe of hot water on the table over there, if you care for some tea.  Or you’re welcome to just enjoy that comfortable chair for another forty minutes.  I’ll be working on some administrative necessities.”

She turned her chair away from him, but from the corner of her eye she could see his gobsmacked expression.  He had clearly expected her to cajole and manipulate him into co-operating, but that simply wasn’t her style.

“I meant no offence, doctor.  I’m certain ye’re verra good at what ye do.  Tis only... well, Jenny is my older sister, ye ken.  She practically raised me.  And so ofttimes she treats me like a muckle-sized bairn, and no’ a man who’s capable of lookin’ after himself.”

As he spoke, Jamie leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, expressive hands gesturing in front of his face.  Hostile to the notion of counselling he might be, but he clearly wanted her to understand it wasn’t a slight.  As a physician, she had been trained to never take a patient’s reactions personally, but it didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.

“No offence taken, Jamie.  If you don’t need my assistance, I’m happy for you.  That’s one less person hurting in the world.”

“I didna say I wasna hurting.  But I can handle it my own way.  I am handling it, that is,” he hurried to add.

Unable to sit still any longer, he rose and walked over to the small table where she kept an assortment of herbal teas and a tray of Geillis’ homemade biscuits.  Bending over, Jamie set about making himself some; chamomile by the smell of it.  The sound of spoon ringing off porcelain as he stirred in some honey made her smile, reminding her of Lamb and his obsession with the lost art of afternoon tea.

“Can I make ye a cup?”

The question was so unexpected, it took her a moment to process it.  The tea was there as a distraction for her patients, to give them something to do with their bodies as they worked through difficult emotions.  None of them had ever thought to offer her a reprieve as well.

“No, thank you.  I just finished lunch.”

He dipped a shortbread into the steaming tea, then ate it in a single bite.  Instead of sitting back down, he began to browse the framed certificates and photographs along the far wall as he sipped his tea.  With his back turned, her eyes dipped to admire his ass, which filled out his jeans perfectly.  When she caught herself, she gave her head a shake, appalled at her lack of professional detachment.  Maybe Geillis was right.  Maybe she really did need to get laid.

“How long have ye been a doctor?” Jamie asked without turning around.

“Ten years,” she replied.  “But I’ve only been a psychiatrist for the last two.”

It was a dangerous topic, and she blamed his ass for letting the words slip out.  Fortunately, his inquisitiveness took him in an entirely different direction.

“Were ye some kind of prodigy, then? Ye hardly seem old enough tae have yer own practice, let alone fer a decade.  If ye dinna mind me sayin’ so,” he added quickly, as though realizing what he’d just said.

“Not at all.  And you hardly seem young enough to be a, what was it? A muckle-sized bairn?”

As he turned to look her way, she understood the expression ‘shot-gun smile’ for the first time.  It spread across his face like a sunbeam, transforming what was already remarkable into a work of art.  If she hadn’t been sitting, she likely would have stumbled backward from the force of the blow.  Scrambling for something familiar to keep her from making a very grave fool of herself in front of this man, she clasped her clinical training with both hands.

“Are you and your sister close?” 

“Aye, when we’re no’ tryin’ not tae kill the other.  Our Mam died when I was only four, and with Da workin’ dawn til dark on the farm, Jenny was parent, teacher an’ playmate all rolled inta one.”

“You’re not from Edinburgh, then?”  Although what that had to do with his counselling, she hadn’t a clue. 

“Nah, I hail from a wee village in the Highlands ye’ve likely ne’er heard of called Broch Mordha.”  She shook her head to indicate she was indeed unfamiliar with it.  Jamie launched into a detailed description of the place, his hands sculpting the landscape out of thin air.  He obviously cared very deeply for his home, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, having never known that feeling of deep belonging  herself.

“And what brought you to Old Smoky?” she asked as he wound down, her interest piqued.  It was like slamming a lead door on his previously sunny disposition.

“Family obligations.” Said in such a way as to make it clear that no further words would be forthcoming on the topic.  She regretted her nosiness immediately, despite what it revealed about his emotional state.  Jamie was most certainly grieving something, but handling it he was not.

Before she could find a way back to the easy flow of conversation, a chime from her laptop indicated that the session was up.  She couldn’t bear to dismiss him without trying to set things right.

“Listen, Jamie, I understand that you only came here today to humour your sister, but I want you to consider something.  Whether we’re grieving or angry or jealous, or any destabilizing feeling, we’re often the worst surveyors of our own landscape.  Just like you can’t know your place on the sea without referencing the stars, it takes something external to ourselves to measure how far adrift we have become.  Your sister obviously loves you.  Ask yourself, what has she seen in you that prompted her to force you to seek help?”

They parted with cordial but muted goodbyes.  The door closed behind him, leaving Claire to stare at the blank rectangle in her planner that bore his name.  No coded symbols flowed from her pen.  When the door re-opened, it was Geillis, closing it firmly behind her.

“Weel, did I no’ tell ye?  Wee fox, tha’ one.  And he told me he liked my shortbread!”   Geillis said this as though it was some kind of sexual euphemism, which for all Claire knew, it was.

“Yes,” she replied distractedly.  “He’s very nice.”

“Nice!  Nice?  Tha’ man is tae nice what Wagyu is tae beef jerky.  Have ye completely lost yer senses, woman?”  

“Yes, well, he’s a patient, Geillis, as you well know.  And not one I’m likely to see again,” she added, acknowledging out loud what she already knew.

“Oh, no?” Geillis sing-songed.  “Thas’ strange, as he just made an appointment fer the same time next week.”

Claire’s eyes flew to where her friend looked on, smug as could be.

“Yer three o’clock called tae say she was runnin’ five minutes late.  I’ll leave ye tae think about yer... patient.”

Claire picked up her pen, trying to pull together something resembling a professional summary of her first appointment with Jamie.  Her mind replayed their interaction, but all she could remember was the way his eyes crinkled when he was listening attentively, the tidy half-moons of his fingernails, the seam of his jeans as it contoured his thigh, and the cymbal-crash in her chest that accompanied his smile.

Patient, she reminded herself.  Jamie Fraser is your patient. 

[kanene-yaaay]

Go to Sleep

Kanene’s note: Gosh, having a schedule is weird. I just wanna post everything I already wrote and ramble non stop about it asdfgtyujkigfdo. XD

Well, this was suppose to be a drabble, but it’s very long so sdftyujikgfred. I hope you like it!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders from the serie Sanders Sides.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic. If you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Virgil with Ler!Roman. Around 1.500 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Listen a bit to the birds today. Changing the way you think is not a bad thing. Drink water, sleep, eat and love!

[~*~]

Roman growled, missing by a few inches the button of his thunderous, infuriating alarm before finally hitting it. Staring and blinking lazily at the numbers his brain struggled to discern and recognize, only to confirm it was really time to wake up and start the day. He grabbed his pillow and squeezed it with all the strength he could muster, rolling from one side to other on the mattress, trying to wake up his body as quick as his mind and almost falling from the bed a reasonable number of times during the process.

 He got up, yawing, stretching and humming as the first lyrics of the day stuck on his head, hand rubbing at his eyes as he followed the kitchen’s direction with slow steps and tired sways on the beat of the song.

 Two dark, wide eyes stared right back at him, their owner completely frozen on the spot with his hand inside the cabinet, probably already holding some sort of a snack. Roman also stopped mid-step, gears running inside his mind, gaze locked on the other, his brow progressively furrowing.

“Virgil,” he began, voice slightly hoarse “What the heckty heck are you doing up? It’s barely seven in the morning!” Virgil only stared back, slowly closing the cabinet’s door, as if afraid the movement would startle the other. Roman proceeded to get some eggs and other cold ingredients from the refrigerator for the breakfast, his words growing more awake and vivid as they spilled with no filter or whatsoever from his lips. “You got an early shift again or something? Those are absolutely hellish. A bunch of people exhausted, tired and glaring at you as if you are the holder of all their problems and their solutions can only be achieved by being insufferable pieces of- Urg. I can’t believe they would give you one right after you got the night one. Damn, I didn’t even see you arriving here yesterday!”

 He turned his attention back at the other, looking for a kind of frustration in the place of the still startled, wide gaze which continued to be directed at him. Virgil nodded slowly, stepping away and putting some physical distance between him and the confusion on Roman’s features.

 Then, between the strings of sleepiness that clouded his brain, it clicked.

 Suddenly more details on the other’s behavior started to become clearer: the way Virgil’s hair was messier than his usual ““style”” (Roman scoffed mentally, thinking that if he rolled his eyes any harder they would never come back to his normal place again), his wary, yes, but way too much slow movements, the way he seemed to be unable to stop blinking at every millisecond and, above it all, the final piece of the puzzle.

 Virgil wasn’t wearing his pajamas.

 “YOU DIDN’T!” Roman gasped, as if Virgil’s life choices were a personal attack. “YOU DIDN’T GET ANY SLEEP LAST NIGHT!!” A turn of heels and he was again fixating his glare on the other, his free hand accusingly pointing in his direction, receiving an annoyed hiss as immediate answer.

 “Shut up!” Virgil snarled, practically growling back at him. “It’s fucking seven am don’t be so freaking loud.”

 “Don’t change the subject! Why didn’t you go to sleep?”

 The one being questioned just snorted, half amused. “Bold of you to assume I’d ever sleep in my whole life.”

 “That is it.” Virgil didn’t even have the time to wonder the meaning of his friend’s sentence before the aforementioned picked him up, resulting to a not very contained shriek escaping from his lips and his hands not much gracefully – or gently, although since they were keen on just jumping on each other out of nowhere to play fight Princey would be fine - meeting his friend’s face.

 “Roman! What the he-”

 “Did you just SLAP me? My beautiful face?! Before my own beautiful eyes??” Virgil Storm always got, even if he would never admit this out loud, surprised with Roman’s capacity of doing a series of offended incoherent noises which evolved to words before being carefully metamorphosed in weird noises all over again, and in the end still managing to form comprehensible sentences. His surprise did nothing to quell the grumpy snark immediately flying from lips, though.

 “And I’m going to do it again if you don’t let me go in this exact instant.”

 “You go and try to help and that is the acknowledgement you get,” The one wearing pajamas with little crows printed on it huffed, mumbling in a lower tone as he noticed the sharp gaze being thrown in his direction. “fucking unbelievable.”

 “I still can hear you, Princey. You’re literally carrying me.”

 “I sTiLL cAn HeAr yOu-OW! Ow! Ow!” The sentence was interrupted when the sleep deprived one punched Roman’s shoulder. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

 “Let me fucking gAAH!” In a way his wish was granted, one could say as they watched his protest being cut as Storm was impolitely tossed on his bed, Roman quickly following his friend on the mattress, arms hugging him from behind, and physically preventing him from escaping his current soft predicament. “Prince, you’re dead.”

 “Shhh, no talking. We’re sleeping.”

 “We are not. You are being a pain in ass and I am about to defenestrate you.” Despite his fervent protests, his sharp, flaming glare began to lose its heat, his body not doing any actual effort to free himself from the other’s – strong, good - grip, muscles starting to relax against the great warmth involving him in a comfortable and secure blanket.

 “Sure, sure, mister Grumpy Pants, you can do that when you wake up.” He tightened a bit his hold around Virgil, yet being the most careful as possible, actively ignoring the annoyed hiss his friend gave him. His hoodie was really fluffy at the touch, slightly remembering his stuffed animals he frequently hugged to sleep.

 For a moment, everything was pleasantly quiet. The one with smudged makeup, since he hadn’t time to get it off before being trapped by his roommate and best friend, felt the tiredness becoming sleepiness as the seconds went by.

 …That was until an electric sensation shot across his spine, leading him to almost jump in the same place 

 “S-stop nuzzling me!”

 “Hm? Oh sorry.” Virgil pressed his lips tightly closed, preventing the wobbly giggles to escape as Roman speaks, not realizing how close his mouth was from the base of his neck, every breath sending tickly shocks across every nerve. “You’re just too much sooooft.”

 Roman opened an eye when realized that no snark remark from the other followed his words, the figure in his arms shaking too much to be asleep. A frown painted his feature as he readjusted the position of his hands, trying to get a bit more of balance to look at Virgil’s face when suddenly a high-pitched yelp escaped, cutting the air and immediately catching their attention.

 “Did you just squeal?” He questioned as his glare assumed a playful shine seeing a blush spread on his now frozen friend.

 “It was NOT a squeal! It was a yelp.” Virgil’s words came so fast that they almost tripped on themselves. Roman snorted, a smile taking over his face. “Get off me!” and, in the moment the one wearing a hoodie tried to pry his hand from the spot on his right side where it was resting, the pieces finally clicked in the right place and his smile quickly submerged, giving space to a smirk.

 ‘No WAY Doctor Doom and Gloom is ticklish!’

 However, the red lover only blinked as the true personification of innocence and naiveness, his hand firm in its place, fingers starting to slowly move, light pokes being delivered on the sensitive skin. “But why that, Knight Mare? It’s cold and all I could ever want is just to hug my bestest friend!”

 “You already hugged me, now go aWAY!” His voice trembled in the last second, the exact moment his thumb experimentally scratched the spot right under the lowest ribs, leading a surprised squeak to leave Virgil’s mouth.

 They both stared at each other, gleaming, filling their wide eyes.

 “No.” Virgil said, trying to squirm away but finding himself stuck between Prince and the wall. Roman didn’t even attempt to hide his smug grin, anymore. This was going to be so much fun

 “Don’t you dare! Don’t you freaking dare!!” His friend only laid down again, now carefully, yet firmly, pulling him one more time against his chest, growling playfully. Years and years fighting for the Tickle Monster title on his family, battles and battles against Remus only sharpening his skills, which showed by the way his fingers seemed to find every single weak spot on Virgil’s skin, wiggles, scribbles, pokes and scratching exploring everywhere. “No! Nononono! You fucker, you moron, you bitch, you-” A few chuckles cut his curses as he one wearing pajamas squeezed his side a couple of times, the tip of his fingers also teasing his ticklish stomach. “Roman!!”

 “No, no, my so dear, so ticklish, friend. Roman is no longer here, this is…” He paused for a dramatic effect, basically beaming at the giggly giggles and wiggly wiggles from the other. He shoved his face on his neck, the next words vibrating almost as bad as the spidering on his ribs. “The Tickle Monster!!”

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place. 

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.  

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.  

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't. 

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"  

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)

[andithiel]

I've been feeling a bit detatched from my writing lately, but I wanted to do something for Harry's birthday. So I managed to get out 2k of, I think maybe fluff? Many thanks to @booktopusmunro for the speedy beta and encouragement ❤️ Happy birthday Harry! Sidenote: Sega Mega Drive was called Sega Genesis in the US. This fic is loosely based on a scene from the Friends episode “The One Where Rachel Finds Out”.

Start Level

“Everybody! Hey, everybody, settle down! It’s time for Harry to open his presents!”

Ron’s sonoroused voice made Harry wince as he sat cross-legged in his favourite squishy armchair. A belly full of birthday cake and the comfort of  his friends surrounding him made Harry sleepy; but as he watched them all scramble to get seated as close to him as possible, a warmth rose in his chest. Ron had, of course, already sat down on the sofa closest to Harry before he made the announcement, but at Harry’s single raised eyebrow he shrugged with a crooked grin.

Harry snorted. He knew that with five older brothers, it was inevitable that Ron knew how to get to the front first. He looked around the room, trying not to tear up at the sight of all his friends gathered around, sitting on each other’s laps or perched on tables and armrests, all looking expectedly at him.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong with him?” Pansy stage-whispered to Hermione.

“Nothing,” said Harry, to let Hermione off the hook. “I’m just happy to get to spend my birthday with the people I love.”

Well, all except one, he thought. Draco hadn’t been able to get out of his work shift, and Harry refused to admit how disappointed he’d been when he’d found out about that, because it wasn’t reasonable for him to be. It wasn’t as if he expected Draco to be around all the time now just because they were sort of friends, or at least hung out in the same friend circles. But still, it wasn’t every day you turned 25 and wanted to celebrate with the people you cared most about.

Harry accepted the gift that Ron handed to him with a smile and a “Happy birthday, mate.” He tore the wrappings off to reveal a set of Wizards Chess. At Harry’s puzzled expression Ron explained. “Well, since you lost your old set I thought I’d give you a new one so we can play again!”

“Right,” Harry said with a tight smile, not mentioning that he knew damn well where his old set was (buried deep in a box in his attic because he was sick of losing to Ron all the time). “Thanks,” he managed to grind out, hoping it sounded sincere.

The rest under the cut or on ao3

“Maybe this one will be more useful,” said Blaise, as he handed Harry a thick, heavy parcel.

“Thanks Blaise!” Harry turned the package in his hands. “Hmmm, it feels like a book. Pretty sure it’s a book.” He unwrapped it. “And it’s a book! It’s— oh.”

“What, Harry?” Luna straightened up a bit to try and get a look.

“Um, nothing,” said Harry, trying to hide the Kama Sutra for Beginners behind his back. “Nothing, it’s, uh, I’ll have a closer look at this later.”

Blaise smirked and Harry whipped his head around to the stack of gifts next to him, wanting to occupy his mind with something other than the writhing bodies on the cover of the book currently taking up all the space in his head. “Who’s this from?” He picked up a big box wrapped in black paper with little golden snitches on it and a big golden bow on top.

“Oh that’s Draco’s,” said Pansy. “I promised I’d give it to you since he couldn’t make it today.”

“Right, right. Thanks Pansy,” Harry mumbled as he carefully peeled the tape from the paper, both so he wouldn’t tear it and so he could busy himself with the task instead of thinking about how Draco was holed up in St Mungo’s on Harry’s birthday.

He finally managed to get all the tape off and unwrapped the gift slowly. The sight of the box made him let out a gush of air, unable to believe that this was really real. Had Draco actually bought him—?

“What is it, Harry?” asked Hermione, trying to lean in closer to see what was in the box.

“I can’t—” Harry began, before swallowing and starting over. “I can’t believe he remembered.”

“What? What is it?” came a collective query from the group, everyone edging closer now.

Carefully, Harry opened the box to see if the content really matched the exterior, and when he’d made sure it really did, he had to pause again to blink repeatedly against the sting in his eyes. Then he picked up the black plastic box, twisting it in his hands. The room was silent, probably because few of them knew what this was.

“It’s a Muggle video game,” Harry tried to explain. “It’s… It must’ve been weeks ago, months maybe. We passed a Muggle second-hand store and I saw this and I… I made some throwaway comment about how Dudley used to have one of these but I was never allowed to play.” He stroked his thumb over the white letters forming the words “Mega Drive SEGA”, while memories of how he’d desperately wanted to play resurfaced in his mind. This console, like so many others before and after it, had not lasted long in the Dursley household. Before Harry had had any chance at trying it out, Dudley had stomped on it after the umpteenth attempt of getting past Dr. Eggman in the Oil Ocean Zone.

“Oh,” said Hermione softly in his ear, making him realise how close she was. “I remember these! Never had one myself but I sometimes played on my friend’s.”

Harry couldn’t stop staring. It wasn’t an extravagant gift, money-wise, but the thoughtfulness and the effort it must have taken Draco to find this for him was astounding. The game was almost mint condition. Draco must’ve gone back to the store to get a better look, and then found it in another store, because the one they’d seen had been old and battered. The gift made something stir in Harry, something he hadn’t allowed himself to think about before, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for even now.

“Oh, come on, remember when Draco went to Healer school and he fell in love with Keith Hendricks and bought him that ridiculously expensive non-spatter cauldron?” Ron chortled on Harry’s other side.

The room fell quiet and it took a few seconds for Ron’s words to process in Harry’s brain. He snapped his eyes up, looking sharply at Ron, whose ears had gone bright red.

“What did you just say?”

Ron’s eyes went wide and he gave Pansy, who was staring at him with a thunderous expression, a panicked look. “Uh…” said Ron, then cleared his throat several times while shrinking into the sofa. “Er… huh… ummm, non-spatter cauldron?”

“No. No, no,” said Harry, trying to wrap his head around Ron’s words. “The um, the ‘love’ part?”

Ron was now spluttering, frantically looking around the room for any sort of help from someone, and that was enough for the truth to register in Harry’s brain.

“Oh. My. God,” was all he managed to get out.

“Oh, noooo nononononono,” Ron chanted, rubbing his temples. “Noooo, I’m such a lousy friend!”

“I cannot believe this is the first time I hear about this!” Pansy snapped. “And to think that Draco confided in you, of all people!”

Ron straightened up and threw her a sharp look. “Hey! The ferret and I have a very trusting and mature friendship!”

“Yes, clearly he did the right thing trusting you with this information!” Pansy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well it’s not like I’ve told anyone else! I’ve even kept it from my own wife!”

“Oh, bravo, Weasel, ten points to Gryffindor.” Pansy inclined her head in Ron’s direction and clapped her hands in mock applause. “And then you chose this moment to spill the beans, very clever. I’ll have you know that I’ve kept it a secret that he had a crush on Potter back at Hogw—” she said, but interrupted herself. “Er, nevermind.”

Harry felt like he was watching a ping pong match, his mind reeling at all this information. Draco’d had a crush on him at Hogwarts? And now he was in love with him?

“Aha!” Ron shouted triumphantly. “Who’s the bad friend now?”

“Can the two of you shut the fuck up?!” Harry said, surprised at his own words and the force behind them. “I need to think.”

“Yes! Yes, give the poor man some space to think!” Ron hastily said, his expression amix of relieved and frantic.

But before Harry had time to properly panic, the door opened.

“Well, I had to bribe Healer Merriweather by taking all her night shifts for a month, but at least I managed to get here,” said Draco as he stepped inside, impeccably dressed as ever. “Please tell me I haven’t missed the cake.” He paused in front of the doorway, looking around the room, all eyes turned on him. “What? What happened? Is there something on my shirt?” He started patting himself all over, looking for a non-existing stain.

Harry could only stare at him, at the way his hair fell into his eyes and how he had to constantly flick his head to keep it away. The flush on his cheeks from apparently having rushed from the hospital, just to be able to celebrate Harry’s birthday because he knew how important it was to him. Or maybe because he’d seen how disappointed Harry’d been when Draco’d told him he wouldn’t be able to make it and now he‘d wanted to make it up to him. The care with which he had selected a present for Harry just to make him happy. There was a swooping sensation in Harry’s stomach, and suddenly his mouth started speaking before he could stop himself.

“You’re in love with me?”

Draco froze, his eyes widening comically before flitting around the room to finally land on Ron, who seemed to try to make himself a permanent part of Harry’s sofa. After a split second, Draco leaned back into the hallway, not meeting Harry’s eyes once. “Wait, what’s that? Oh, no! I see Head Healer Patel’s patronus, oh this can’t be good, I really must be off.”

He turned around and bolted for the door, but with the reflexes of a seeker, Harry apparated into the hallway, right in front of the stairs.

“You’re in love with me,” he repeated, more like a statement now, or maybe a confirmation to himself.

Draco folded his arms across his chest, lifting his chin. “I have no idea what gave you that impression, Potter, but—”

“Ron told me. Or, well, to be fair he accidentally let it slip.”

“Weasel,” Draco hissed. “I should’ve known it was unwise to get drunk with him. That red-headed buffoon act is a great cover to trick people into trusting him with—”

He didn’t get any further, because right then, Harry decided that he needed to do what he did best: use his gut. And his gut told him that he was pants with words, especially compared to Draco. And he wanted to make Draco stop talking, so he did the first thing that came to mind. He stepped closer and pressed his lips to Draco’s. It was probably the most chaste kiss he’d ever experienced, and yet it gave his stomach that funny swooping feeling again. Draco made a funny sound, like a mix of a squeak and a sharp inhale, and Harry realised that maybe this wasn’t what Draco wanted and started to pull back. But then he was thoroughly proven wrong when Draco grabbed him by the collar and pushed him backwards until they hit the opposite wall. Harry gasped when his head thumped against it, and then again when Draco opened his mouth and really kissed him, hands still fisted in Harry’s shirt.

It was the kind of kiss that, had they not been in Harry’s hallway, it would’ve led to other things. Harry’s body responded immediately, and he desperately wanted more. But their frantic snogging came to an abrupt halt when they suddenly realised they weren’t alone anymore.

“Oh,” someone said softly, and Harry didn’t need to look to know it was Luna.

Then someone (who sounded a lot like Pansy) shouted “What?” and there was the unmistakable sound of all their friends rushing to get to Harry’s front door first, then someone else (definitely Ron) yelled, “I don't need to see that!”

Harry kept his gaze firmly on Draco, cheeks gone pink and lips wonderfully kiss-swollen.

“Let’s go to your place, yeah?”

Draco nodded, eyes bright, his bottom lip disappearing between his teeth. Harry couldn’t wait to suck it into his mouth again.

“Right, hang on for one second,” Harry said, fishing out his wand from his pocket. “Accio Draco’s present!” With a spark of satisfaction he heard Blaise mutter “Ow!” when the box undoubtedly smacked into his head as it zoomed towards Harry’s outstretched hand.

But just as he was about to catch it, Draco cast a Depulso, making the game fly towards Luna, who caught it with an expression of curiosity as she twisted it in her hands.

“I’m very happy that you like your present so much, but trust me, Harry,” Draco murmured into his ear, “there won’t be time for any video games when I get you alone.”

[sfb123]

The Confrontation - A Final Goodbye One Shot

Book: The Royal Romance, Book 2

Pairing: Liam x Riley

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Description: In a slight canon divergence from book 2, Riley reaches her breaking point with the engagement tour and decides to restart her life when the court gets to NYC. Can the rest of the group clear her name, and convince her to come back before it’s too late?

The Final Goodbye Masterlist

Rating: PG-13 (Discussion of adult situations and some adult language)

Word Count: 924

A/N: I know, a one shot of a mini-series, I’m a psycho. Sorry guys. After last week’s chapter, I had a lot of people saying they wanted to see Liam confront Madeleine about making Riley pick up the wedding ring, so I decided to write it. It’s a quick one, and it takes place during the events of chapter 2, after Madeleine and Liam get into the elevator.

All the love and thank yous to my fandom soulmate, @jessiembruno​​ for reading this and helping me get Liam just the right amount of angry.

Tags: Listed below. If you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

Liam and Madeleine walked down the hall arm in arm. As they reached the bay of elevators, one of the doors opened to reveal Maxwell. He paused when he exited, meeting Liam’s eyes as they exchanged sad looks. Maxwell continued on his way, and Liam and Madeleine entered the newly vacant elevator car. As soon as the doors closed, Liam distanced himself from Madeleine and selected the button to take them to the lobby. 

“You know Liam, if you plan to continue this arrangement after the wedding, we are really going to need to come up with some ground rules, possibly a schedule.” Madeleine snickered breaking the silence. Liam’s jaw immediately tensed. 

His body moved before his brain could process what was happening, his hand went back to the buttons on the wall, slamming his finger on the bright red button labeled ‘STOP’. His hand quickly formed into a fist and fell to his side as he turned to face Madeleine. “Enough.” 

The sound of his booming voice in the small space startled Madeleine, who had been keeping her focus forward. She tried to keep her composure, smoothing her hands over the front of her dress before turning to address the king. “Liam, we’re going to be la...”

“Did you send Riley to pick up your wedding band yesterday?” Liam cut her off. He knew the answer, he just needed to hear her admit it.

“Yes, if she is going to remain at court, she needs to earn her keep, people need to see her value. She can’t just be your on-call plaything.” 

“Her value is exponentially more than yours, and everyone in this damn court sees it.”

“If they see it, Liam, then why isn’t she the one on your arm, wearing your ring?” She paused, pretending to think of an answer she already had prepared. “Oh, that’s right, because her value plummeted the second those pictures were released.” She smirked at him, waiting for his response. 

“Her value?” He scoffed. “Have you forgotten that this is your second engagement? Your second attempt at being queen? You can’t honestly believe that nobody is talking about how you were jilted by one crown prince and moved on to the other.”

“I’ve been preparing my whole life to become the queen. I will be remembered for the work I do to serve my country, not how many times I was engaged. Riley will always be known as common trash that tried to sleep her way through court to make something of herself.”

He opened his mouth, about to respond, but he stopped himself. Yes, they were close to clearing her name, which would make Madeleine’s argument null and void. But he couldn’t use that as a defense. He had to continue to keep the investigation to himself, everyone had worked too hard to start showing his hand now. 

Madeleine continued to stare at him with an arched eyebrow, waiting for his response. He took a deep breath, calming himself before he said something he would regret. “Madeleine, a good ruler does not let personal feelings and vendettas get in the way of their decisions. They are unbiased and fair to everyone. As someone who openly brags about preparing their whole life to be queen, I would think you’d understand this concept.”

She flinched slightly at the passive aggressive dig, hoping he didn’t notice. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to her. “And a good member of the court does not let their personal feelings get in the way of the orders given to them by those above their station.” She folded her arms across her chest and stood a bit taller to show Liam he could not intimidate her. “Don’t forget, queen or not, I will always be above her. She will always have to yield to me.” Madeleine brushed past Liam, moving to the panel on the wall and restarting the carts decent to the lobby. She returned to her original spot and faced forward, Liam stood in silence, fuming at her words. 

When the doors opened, Madeleine stepped forward to exit, but Liam grabbed her arm, pulling her close. When she felt his hand on her, she looked back, shocked by the unmistakable look of rage on the king’s face. He leaned in close to her, speaking soft enough for only her to hear, anger clear in his tone. “And don’t you forget that I am the king by blood, so I will always be above you, and you will always have to yield to me. Make no mistake I could end this, end you at any time. Come for Riley again, and I will take it as a personal attack. A good ruler may not let personal feelings and vendettas get in the way of their decisions, but a man in love has no control over his actions when he is defending the woman that holds his heart. Understood?” Madeleine recoiled at the intensity of Liam’s stare, unable to maintain eye contact. Liam spoke his next words very slowly and deliberately, “Do I make myself clear, Countess?”

Madeleine nodded slowly, still not making eye contact with him. Liam was not satisfied with her response. “Is that how a subject addresses their king?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Liam nodded, accepting his response. He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand across his face. As his arm lowered to his side, his stoic expression returned as if nothing had happened. He offered Madeleine his arm. “Shall we, darling.”

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Liam:

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[turnleftaticela]

I would like to describe special interest not as an object, but rather as a state of being, a physiological system inherent to my mind and body. Special interest is not just about the thing I’m interested in; it’s about who I am as a person. It’s about how my brain is wired to perceive myself and the world around me.

For me, special interest functions as a sort of perpetually self-writing guidebook for understanding life. It serves as an analogical framework that governs my processing of information. The more I study things through the process of special interest, the more I learn about myself, and the more I learn about others. The deeper my understanding of the things I take special interest in, the deeper my understanding of the world at large.

Knowing which things I take special interest in tells you a lot about who I am as a person. It’s not quite accurate to say the thing is my personality trait; it’s more about the area of overlap in the collection of my own traits plus the thing’s traits. The bigger the overlap, the higher level of special interest I will have in the thing. The higher level of special interest I have in the thing, the more you can know about me from knowing about the thing.

To put a good-vs.-bad or positive-vs.-negative judgment on the concept of special interest shows a fundamental misunderstanding of what it even is, on its most basic level. Special interest is not a behavior or a decision. It’s not even a preference. Just like autism as a whole, special interest simply… is. There can be both upsides and downsides to living life with a specially-interested brain, and these differ from person to person as a matter of opinion depending on their experiences and life factors.

It’s a gross oversimplification to see the purpose of special interest as just “relieving stress.” Yeah, I’m pretty damn relieved when I can finally go back to using my brain the way it’s built to be used after hours and hours of suppressing its natural functionality !

Like, if you’re allistic, imagine you were forced by those around you to process any and all information you receive throughout the day via the lens of analogies to one or two highly specific and mainly irrelevant subjects of their choosing. That would get pretty exhausting, right? I bet you’d be incredibly stressed out by the time you got home, and eager to slip back into your normal brain settings and unwind. Right?

For autistic people, that level of exhaustion is exactly what it’s like when we’re forced the other way around.

The thing about special interest is, it’s only “special” when you’re in the minority for having it. In a room full of 100 autistic people, each person’s special interest habits are as basic and variable as food preferences or fashion choices — there might be differences from person to person in how exactly it’s carried out, but everybody’s gotta wear clothes and eat!

It just irks me to hear people say “actually, special interest is good because it brings people joy!” Like… yeah. That’s true. But nobody says “actually, breathing is good because it brings people joy!” Breathing is good because it’s an automatic process that allows us to function as human beings in the world we occupy. Breathing is inherent. Breathing is necessary.

No, I won’t literally suffocate to death if I’m unable to engage in special interest. But it’s not a treat. It’s not a prize. It’s not an add-on or accessory. It’s an inherent part of me being alive, of me operating as a human person. Yes, of course it brings me joy; in fact, it brings me some of the highest levels of joy I experience on a day-to-day basis. But that’s not why I should be allowed to engage in it. I should be allowed to engage in it because it’s me. And to live as something less than me, means that I am not living.