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sasukelore · 4 years

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Shouto, Izuku, And Bakugou: Thigh riding

☞︎ Not requested.

☞︎Fandom: My Hero Academia

☞︎ Authors note: Well, I’m so excited to fiNALLy be writing for BNHA! It’s been a very long time coming, as this blog was actually suppose to be originally a Naruto and BNHA blog. And after some debating I’ve decided I will write for the fandom after all. And no, this does not mean I’ll stop writing for Naruto. This is my first time writing for these characters so... go easy on me!

☞︎Warnings: Thigh riding, NSFW, A tiny bit of degradation, all characters aged up (if I say lockers or dorms, it means that they’re in college)

Bakugou is always very rough, even with the most light-hearted things. It’s not a surprise he wouldn’t be any different when he was in the mood

I do think that Bakugou is the tease of the century... so bless your soul.

Cornering you in the halls is his personal favorite way to make you flustered.

Sometimes he might even go so far as to slam you into the lockers.

And if he really feels like being an ass, he’ll push his thigh in between your legs, slowing rocking it against you.

The cocky shit would just stare at you heatedly, a faux scowl printed on his face.

But you could see the glimmer in his eyes. You could see what he was doing.

“You like rubbing your pussy on my thigh? When everyone could see? You do, don’t you?” He’ll say with a cocky smirk on his face.

Using his thigh to tease you is only the tip of the iceberg.

Bakugou would totally make you sit on his thigh when you’re being a tease yourself. He’d check that shit so fast.

And if you think he’s just gonna let you bounce on him without any guidance? Any help? You’re sorely mistaken.

He’s got your hair in his fists with one hand and your bare hip in the other. He’s almost bruising you.

He’d also probably try to wear jeans when he thinks it’s going to happen. He’ll swear up and down otherwise that’s not why he wore them...

The friction his pants adds will have him chuckling darkly with a wild look in his eyes and at this point he’s really resisting just throwing you on the bed and fucking you senseless.

Which is exactly what he’ll do as soon as he gets you off with a sarcastic glare, he’s not done with you yet.

Izuku? The shyest bean ever? yeah riding his thigh is an experience.

To be honest, you wouldn’t really know what to expect... I mean, at first thought you might even think he would be the one riding your thigh.

But I am a FIRM believer, that Izuku can actually be daddy material?

Soft, caring, dom. He’ll love to spoil you. And he loves to shower you in affection!

Little butterfly kisses, forehead kisses, hands brushing against eachother.

But he will bend you over.

Izuku also likes to experiment with you. Especially if you’re new to sex. He wants to learn what you like and how to make you feel good!

So naturally, thigh riding will be one of the first things you try with him that’s not totally vanilla.

He’ll always make sure that you’re prepared and that you actually want to. He’s not one to use it as a way to tease or assert his dominance.

Getting that out of the way, always making sure you’re comfortable, he’d say words of appreciation and how much he loves you, or how beautiful you are

It’s safe to say he’ll say it all with a blush on his face.

Both of his hands on your hips, guiding you softly, sometimes his hands will roam all the way to your face.

He brings your face to his and kisses you softly.

HONESTLY WHAT A FUCKING CUTIE???

He loves you so so much, and he never wants you to think otherwise. He treats you so good.

He doesn’t even need to cum himself. Just knowing that you were satisfied brings him legitimate joy.

And the aftercare is amazing. He’ll ask if you’re hungry, or if your own legs hurt from rocking against his muscled thigh.

Protect this innocent daddy bean.

Another tease... But he’s less hardcore than Bakugou. As Bakugou is a whole different level.

Shouto is the type is act like he’s doing nothing, totally not teasing you, totally not placing his hand on your thigh

But also, he’s reserved? So he won’t do anything in public that’ll draw even a LOOK.

He loves to see the adorable reactions though. So it makes a questioning stare from your friends to you, worth it.

So with thigh riding, it comes naturally tbh. It’s never planned.

Wether you’re sitting on his lap on a crowded train, and somehow one of his legs moved so you were holding on for dear life to only one.

Or cuddles turned into groping which turned into you grinding onto him like a wild animal.

At first, Shouto was a little confused. You wanted to do what? You cannot tell me that Shouto even knew what thigh riding was.

He grew up focusing only on getting stronger with his quirk, never having time for girls, only having a one track mind to become a hero.

So when he does have a girlfriend, he has a lot to learn! But he’s a very fast learner.

Once you rode his thigh, it becomes his new favorite thing. Especially when he’s working and can’t walk away from it at the moment.

You give him a show. And he’s very vocal about how good of a girl you’re being for him, and to continue

His hands would trace and squeeze your ass and your grinds get less coordinated; sloppy.

Shouto loves to orgasm deny you. All. The. Time.

“Hmm, are you sure you want to do that? You know what the consequences will be if you do.” He’ll say if you try to cum without his permission.

Shouto has always been a mother hen. So expect that a lot in the relationship.

He always makes sure that this is what you want, and that you’re comfortable. Similar to Midoriya.

He never EVER wants to hurt you. You’re so precious to him ugh you’re so lucky

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onlydylanobrien · 3 years

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Dylan O'Brien - NME Magazine Interview

Dylan O’Brien: “I was in this transitional phase – close to a quarter-life crisis”

From YA heartthrob to legitimate leading man – how the 'Maze Runner' star hit his stride after a whirlwind decade

Definitely!” hoots Dylan O’Brien when NME asks if he still has to audition. “I’m not Tom fucking Hanks, bro.” He’s clearly amused by our question, but forgive us for thinking the 29-year-old actor gets cast on reputation alone. A decade into his career, and he’s making an impressive transition from teen TV star and YA franchise hero to charismatic leading man.

New York-born O’Brien cut his teeth on MTV’s hit Teen Wolf series, before landing the lead in the Maze Runner film trilogy based on James Dashner’s hugely popular novels. Leading a band of bright young things that included ex-Skins tearaway Kaya Scodelario, Game Of Thrones’ Thomas Brodie-Sangster and Will Poulter, he honed his craft while racking up nearly a billion dollars at the box office. “My career is a constant acting class,” says O’Brien. “To be able to do the Maze Runner movies simultaneously with Teen Wolf was amazing in terms of getting in reps and working my [acting] muscle.”

Now for the sometimes tricky bit. Many actors struggle with the post-breakout period, but O’Brien is making it look easy so far. This year’s Netflix hit Love and Monsters proved he can carry an old-school family adventure, and new film Flashback (out next week) reveals an appetite for weirder, more cerebral work. He stars as Fred Fitzell, a young man reluctant to buckle down to life as a nine-to-fiver with a boring corporate job and a long-term girlfriend (Mindhunter‘s Hannah Gross). When he runs into a freaky-looking acquaintance from his teenage years, Fred becomes obsessed with finding an old high-school friend he used to drop a mind-bending experimental drug called Mercury with. It’s difficult to say any more without entering spoiler territory, but Flashback is a wild ride underpinned by the idea that we can exist in several realities at once. Even if you follow every plot twist, you might not fully understand the end. “Oh, it’s definitely a headfuck,” O’Brien agrees. “There’s not totally an answer to figure out. There’s a lot of different things that people can take from it.”

Speaking over Zoom from his LA home, O’Brien is bright, thoughtful and really good fun to talk to, especially when he relaxes into the interview, but he clearly knows where his line between public and private lies. When he first read the Flashback script, written by the film’s director Christopher MacBride, his “mind was blown” by just how much he related to Fred. “I felt like I was in this transitional phase of my life that was, you know, sort of close to a quarter-life crisis type thing,” he says. “For whatever reason, it was like me and this script were meant to be. I remember reading it and thinking: ‘I am this guy right now.'”

“There were a lot of things in my personal life that were neglected for a while”

When we ask why O’Brien felt as though he had reached a “transitional phase”, he gives an answer that’s vague but not exactly evasive. For understandable reasons, he doesn’t mention the incredibly traumatic motorcycle accident he sustained while shooting the final Maze Runner film in March 2016. O’Brien suffered severe trauma to the brain and said in 2017 that he underwent extensive facial reconstructive surgery after the accident “broke most of the right side of my face”. Tellingly, he’s never really revealed what happened on set or how it affected him.

Today, O’Brien dances around the details of the accident and other issues he was dealing with at the time, but doesn’t shy away from discussing his inner conflict. “You know, it was a lot of personal things combined with at-a-point-in-my-career things,” he says after a brief pause. He says he’d have been going through some of this stuff anyway, simply because of his age, but it sounds as though success intensified it all. “It was like this whole fucking storm of shit,” he continues. “I was simultaneously so fulfilled and happy about these, like, otherworldly and surreal things that I had experienced in terms of where my career had brought me. I had all this confidence and fulfilment and beautiful people [in my life] – such amazing things to experience at a young age. But at the same time, there were a lot of things in my personal life that were unchecked and sort of neglected for a while.”

O’Brien says that in time, he realised he had to “stop for a second” and “re-explore how I wanted my life to look going forward”. In fairness, you can see why he needed a breather: his career took off while he was still a teenager. After his family moved from New Jersey to Los Angeles County when he was 12, O’Brien contemplated a career as a sports broadcaster – his Twitter bio still bills him as a “no longer suffering Mets fan” – then began posting YouTube videos as moviekidd826. A funny, slickly edited skit titled ‘How to Prepare for the SAT in 45 seconds’, shared when he was just 17, shows he was a born performer and storyteller. YouTube success led to him getting a manager, but his breakthrough role in Teen Wolf still came out of the blue. At the time, he was treading water at a local community college and taking auditions on the side.

Still, he has since taken a rather fatalistic view of this career-making moment. “It’s totally weird because, when I think about it now, I don’t see how it could have happened any other way. I can’t picture myself doing anything else now,” he told Collider in 2011. “It was really sudden and a little random, and not provoked by anything. It was just out of nowhere. It wasn’t my intentional doing.” Today, O’Brien summarises his skyscraper career trajectory succinctly. “I guess I just graduated high school and started acting,” he says. “And then I felt like I was just flying by the seat of my pants and never got a chance to stop.” Thankfully, straight-out-the-blocks Hollywood success hasn’t taken away his sense of perspective. When I say how easy social media makes it to compare yourself unfavourably to others, O’Brien jumps in: “Yeah, that’s very true. I was watching the Billie Eilish doc the other day, and I was like, I’ve done nothing. I’m not an artist at all!”

“No one thought ‘Love and Monsters’ was going to be good!”

O’Brien is also self-deprecating when he talks about being cast in Flashback, suggesting it happened because he had such an intense connection with Fred. “I was honestly like, ‘Who is watching me right now?’ That is the best way I can describe how I was feeling when I came across this script,” he says. “Chris [MacBride, director] and I had this conversation that went so well in terms of [my] understanding this script that I think he’d sent around a lot and [that] very commonly wasn’t understood. I think Chris has even said that the night before shooting, he suddenly had this thought, like, ‘Wait, do I even think he’s a good actor?'”

Though O’Brien has firmly ring-fenced elements of his private life, he’s actually pretty frank about his acting vehicles. He readily admits he was expecting a snobbish response to Love and Monsters, a CGI-heavy hybrid of post-apocalyptic action and romcom that dropped on Netflix in April and topped the streamer’s daily most-watched list. “It means so much that Love and Monsters has gotten the response that it’s gotten,” O’Brien says. “No one thought this movie was going to be good.” His blunt honesty makes me laugh out loud. “No one did though!” he says in response. “And so, fuck that. You know, most of the people who say something to me about the movie, they’re like: ‘I watched Love and Monsters, and it was… good?’ And honestly, that just cracks me up.” For obvious reasons, we hastily decide not to share our response to the film – namely, that it was a whole lot better than expected.

In Love and Monsters, O’Brien plays Joel, a survivor of a so-called “monsterpocalypse” that has bumped humans to the bottom of the food chain. Though he’s known in his colony as a bit of a coward, Joel sets off on a treacherous 80-mile journey to find his high school sweetheart Aimee (Iron Fist‘s Jessica Henwick), which means evading the hungry clutches of various supersize grizzlies including a giant monster-frog hiding in a suburban pond. It’s a simple but pretty out-there premise that wouldn’t work if O’Brien’s performance was even slightly condescending. Instead, his unselfconscious sincerity really sells a film that has as much in common with the family-oriented Robin Williams movie Night at the Museum as darker fare like The Walking Dead.

His obvious affection for the project really comes across during our interview today. “When I read the script, I just thought it was so sweet and funny and smart and unique, but at the same time reminiscent of all these movies that don’t really get made any more,” he says. That’s a fair point: Love and Monsters is neither a fail-safe superhero movie nor a slice of classy Oscar bait. “And when they were talking about how to market this movie, it was so funny hearing all these conversations like, ‘How do we actually get people to watch it?'” he adds. “But that’s a big part of the reason I wanted to do this movie: because it felt like something I missed seeing.”

“I’m lucky to be surrounded by people who want to make something out of love”

So in a way, Love and Monsters was a risk for an actor seeking to establish himself outside of a bankable movie franchise and a hit TV show. O’Brien has only made four films since his final Maze Runner outing in 2018, and insists he hasn’t been tactical with his choices. “I don’t have anyone saying, ‘We need to get you in an Oscar vehicle’, or any of that kind of shit,” he says. “I’m really lucky to be surrounded by people who think like me: that you should do what you’re drawn to, and make something out of love.”

He’s recently finished shooting a mysterious crime thriller called The Outfit in London with Mark Rylance. Directed and co-written by Graham Moore, who won an Oscar for his screenplay to Alan Turing biopic The Imitation Game, O’Brien calls it “quite possibly one of the most special pieces of writing I’ve ever experienced”. He first read the script on a plane and says he “actually stood up and clapped” when he got to the end. Considering O’Brien probably wasn’t flying Ryanair, this reaction presumably attracted a few baffled glances.

Anyway, it must be pretty intimidating walking onto set with Rylance, a multi-award-winning actor revered by his peers – Al Pacino once said he “speaks Shakespeare as if it was written for him the night before” – but it sounds as though O’Brien took it all in stride. He says he’s confident in his abilities, but admits to having a slight wobble whenever he begins a new project. “I’m always sort of re-questioning everything – like, ‘Can I even act?'” he says. “But I think there’s something very natural about that. I think even Rylance could relate to that feeling. Acting is like starting a new year at school every single time.”

At this point in his career, O’Brien has made peace with the fact that some people will have preconceptions about him based on what he’s known for: Maze Runner and Teen Wolf. “People will put you in a box no matter what,” he says. “There was definitely a time when that would get to me, especially when it felt like somebody had a perspective on me that in my soul, I just felt wasn’t accurate.” Still, there’s no doubt he wants to show us what’s really in his soul with more films like Flashback. “If anything,” he adds bullishly, “it just makes me think: ‘Right, I’m really gonna show them now’.”

‘Flashback’ is out on digital platforms from June 4

#dylan o'brien #love and monsters press #flashback press #the outfit press

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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college model!juyeon

SO the people have spoken (aka 3 people but it’s more than 0 so I DON’T CARE) and without further ado HERE WE GO IT’S A COLLEGE MODEL JUYEON BLURB. please reblog if you enjoyed and check out my other dumb overly long blurbs in the stream of idiocy tag on my blog <3

pairing: juyeon x gender neutral!reader

wc: 2.4k

genre: fluff, a bit of angst when mc is stressed, university!au

triggers: cursing, like the tiniest bit of suggestive stuff but absolutely nothing explicit (it’s really just saying juyeon is hot which wbk)

fashion major!kevin

TBZ Scenarios Masterlist | TBZ Drabbles Masterlist

so juyeon isn’t actual a professional model-model like he just happens to be v tall and v handsome and therefore catches the eye of every single fucking fashion major (and other people too) on campus but i’m focusing on the fashion majors because he is LITERALLY model material. have you seen those fucking arms and that fucking face ANYWAY MOVING ON juyeon is an absolute sweetheart behind those stupid muscles and anyone who works with him swears it is impossible like legitimately impossible not to fall in love with his dumb little smile but the thing is juyeon only really agrees to model for fashion major kevin usually like sometimes kevin will pull in a favor and ask him to model for someone else who can’t find anyone (bc let’s be real kevin’s got a lot of friends he could definitely rope someone into modeling for him /cough the other 2/3 of bermuda line cough/ but more often than not kevin takes juyeon not bc juyeon is like the best model or whatever (he’s good obv but some people probably have more experience) but bc juyeon is the only one who will willingly wear some of kevin’s more questionable choices

and the fucking thing is. he still looks good in them. he walks down the runway in this weird ass shirt and pants or whatever the hell kevin’s cooked up for this assignment and people are like.... IT’S SO WEIRD BUT WHY IS JUYEON PULLING IT OFF

so YEAH juyeon is happily modeling his way through college while doing a dance major (one time kevin did his makeup to purposely make him look slightly sweaty and the crowd went fucking insane) and he’s got a lot of things going for him, looks, talent, hard work, etc. and he’s v good at dancing, one of the top in his year so in exchange for his modeling work kevin goes to his dance recitals/competitions to cheer him on and that’s actually how juyeon meets you

you’re feeling shitty bc you just broke up with your partner for whatever reason, let’s just say it was not an amicable breakup and you were about to hole yourself up in 1. the dorm or 2. the lab and just drown yourself in work to forget everything but kevin is one of your good friends and he rolls up and is like. nah. fuck no i’m taking you out we are going to get lunch and then we are going to go see my model friend at one of his dance recitals i promise you it will be FUN and??? you can’t exactly refuse because it’s kevin and he’s not wrong you actually do need to go outside and get some fresh air bc the only time you have left a building over the past week or so is to 1. go to class/the lab from your dorm or 2. to go to your dorm from class/the lab (you are a science major here bc i am a science major and i am heavily projecting ok don’t come at me. though i will say you do theoretical physics which i DO NOT DO but i think it’s cool if mind-blowing so again. projection. despite the fact that i will not touch quantum mechanics after today with a ten foot pole)

so kevin forces you outside and the day is going ok like it’s nice out and he pays for the food and the dance recital is amazing and juyeon has this mf solo that’s absolutely gorgeous and you’re like hitting kevin in the shoulder like omg dude how did you score a friend this talented and he’s like??? what the fuck do you mean by that are you saying i’m not talented and you’re like. well. and then he threatens to deck you but it’s all in good fun anyway MOVING ON when the recital is over kevin drags you over to meet juyeon bc he’s like! it is unacceptable that two of my good friends do not know each other and juyeon if you’re not doing anything you should come with us to dinner! and juyeon is like well i was going to go out with the dance team but you two could come with us and he’s all smiley and soft and you half want to praise the heavens and half want to go to hell bc he looks so sweet and happy and lovely and it’s an honor to be in his presence but at the same time you haven’t left a building for like a week and you’re pretty sure you still have eyebags that haven’t disappeared (jokes on you they’ll never disappear this is university) but kevin says yes for both of you and so you end up with dinner plans too

and it’s fun! everyone is really nice and even though you know nothing about dance you and juyeon end up having v cool conversation about each other’s interests and all that and you’re so immersed in talking with him that you don’t see kevin giving you side-eyes next to you every five fucking minutes (he’s like well. i didn’t see this coming but i’m not going to complain) and by the end of the night you have juyeon’s number in your phone and you’ve made plans to get coffee before class the next day (you don’t have the same class but they’re in adjacent buildings and at the same time so why not) and you go back to your dorm feeling happier than you’ve felt all week

it continues like this?? like it’s actually v weird bc even when you two don’t have plans to meet up juyeon just magically appears around where you’re supposed to be and when you remark on this at one point juyeon just kinda blushes and diverts the topic which makes you suspicious a little but he’s really sweet and has no stalker-ish vibes and you also double-check with kevin who just fucking starts laughing over the phone until you hang up bc he clearly doesn’t have the brain cells to talk to you anywho this is model juyeon and i haven’t talked about that much but HERE WE GO

kevin has a fashion show assignment coming up and juyeon doesn’t have much time to hang out anymore between fittings with kevin + his own major so you end up carting your ass to the fitting sessions after kevin invites you once to see what’s going on and juyeon actually gets scared by all the numbers n shit on your papers bc like what the fuck y/n are you a computer and you just whap him over the head with your stack of homework and say no shut the fuck up and model pretty boy (you don’t see but juyeon blushes bc you called him pretty. kevin saw though and he’s not impressed) but you end up not focusing on your homework bc kevin has juyeon put on and take off clothes at multiple points during the session and ofc if it’s pants or whatever juyeon goes into a different room but if it’s just a shirt.... let’s just say you get a free show and at some point you’re just like yeah i have to go and kevin’s like?? there’s still an hour left and you say something like i can’t focus here the vibes are off and KEVIN KNOWS WHAT’S UP but juyeon is adorably oblivious so he’s just like! ok! see you later y/n i hope you get your homework done :) and he’s so smiley and cute and you just want to melt and cry bc he’s shirtless which is hot asf but he’s also smiling like that which is cute asf and you’re getting whiplash

(you still end up joining the sessions every so often. you bring homework to try and get it done but your time is either spent critiquing kevin’s fashion choices or staring subtly (not) at juyeon)

then a not good week rolls around and it’s just been absolutely shitty between crap professors and too much homework and your lab is working on submitting a paper soon and you’re stressed to the max and to top things off you saw your ex earlier and they tried to talk to you and you really didn’t want to have it so you’re in the lab crying over your computer while you try to proofread the stupid paper and your phone is off bc you don’t want to talk to anyone but then the door bursts open and you nearly have a heart attack and there juyeon stands in clothes that definitely aren’t his own (they’re too sleek and fancy to be normal clothes at least) and his eyes are kinda wild before they locate you in the corner of the room, shell-shocked and confused and also still crying a little bit out of stress

and oh god juyeon’s eyes just soften totally and he walks over and before you know it you’re being pulled into a juyeon hug which is quite possibly one of the best hugs you have felt in a very long time and you’re doing your best not to break down right then and there bc his clothes feel hella expensive and he’s asking you what’s wrong and you can’t speak bc if you do you’ll cry on his model clothing and you finally manage to say that and there’s a beat of silence and then juyeon just goes well would it help if i took the shirt off

AND THAT JUST SETS YOU OFF AND NOW YOU’RE CRYING AND LAUGHING AT THE SAME TIME AND JUYEON IS HALF SMILING HALF UPSET THAT YOU’RE STILL SAD BUT LIKE IT’S FINE IT’S TOTALLY FINE AND somehow you manage not to ruin kevin’s latest fashion creation (which makes juyeon look unfairly handsome even through your puffy eyes) and juyeon closes your laptop and takes you out to the convenience store (still dressed in his modeling outfit jfc) and over shitty ramen and alcohol (or water/juice/whatever if you don’t drink) you tell him about your crap week and juyeon commiserates and listens

at some point you ask him why he’s still wearing kevin’s clothes like?? surely you weren’t running around in them all day and juyeon just looks down and mumbles something and you’re like speak louder dude i can’t hear you and apparently he was in the middle of a session w kevin and kevin looked super stressed and worried and juyeon asked what was up and he told him about how you weren’t responding to anything and juyeon just. booked it the fuck out of there to find you and well now here you both are

and that. that just touches the FUCK out of you and wow you’re crying again bc of that and out of guilt for not talking to kevin or anyone and juyeon’s freaking out like oh my god please stop crying did i say something wrong and you’re just wiping your tears away with a napkin like no you doofus i’m sorry i made you worried it was just that shitty week and??? why did you sprint out of there IN KEVIN’S MODEL CLOTHES you gotta give those back??? and it looks like silk you know that’s going to be a bitch to clean

juyeon just pouts then and mumbles something under his breath and is like. it’s not more important than you.

which makes you reel bc that sounded a lot more like a confession than you’re really ready to process and juyeon seems to realize that at the same time and now you two are both just wide-eyed staring at each other and juyeon’s ears are going red and you’re still in shock and at some point you’re like... juyeon you stupid bastard say that again and he DOES and okay maybe you’re not dating by the end of the night but you sure are two weeks later when you ask him whether or not this is now a date and if he’s your boyfriend and juyeon spills coffee all over himself

(he mumbles yes as you’re wiping the coffee off his front though so it’s fine)

(it does not help that the coffee has now made the outline of his stomach visible)

anyway in general it’s a v cute and v sweet relationship :D juyeon is head over heels for you and you’re head over heels for him too and you’re not like the over the top sweet and gross couple you two like to keep it a little low-key but ofc that doesn’t stop kevin from banning you from fitting sessions w juyeon out of fear that you’ll like make out while juyeon’s wearing the modeling clothes but that’s just kevin being a little shit so it’s fine

juyeon manages to bring that silk shirt back to kevin in one clean piece

you manage not to die every time you go to one of juyeon’s dance recitals (even when he puts in a fake eyebrow piercing and you almost have a heart attack)

juyeon often likes to come into the lab for nothing other than to watch you work bc according to him its fascinating to watch you manipulate numbers and actually the lab is a v nice and quiet place to get things done when it’s mostly empty so you have a few study dates there

you go to juyeon’s dance practices sometimes when you have nothing better to do and get excited over showing him the physics of some of the dance moves and juyeon understands almost none of it but he’s beaming bc you’re so excited and animated while talking about it and the first time this happens is when you two have your first kiss. you ask juyeon if he was kissing you to shut you up and he says no i just thought you looked so happy that i had to kiss you

juyeon is a gentleman and you are like the sarcastic best friend turned lover but it really works out and yea there are a lot of people jealous that you managed to wrap juyeon around your finger but you’re also wrapped around his it’s v much a partnership where both of you rely on each other and yeah. it’s sweet. it’s lovely. juyeon hot but more important juyeon best boyfriend ever <3

and that’s how it goes.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s clothes let’s all pray that no tears stain his silk)

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

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under pressure

(hey guys, welcome to another installment of the swashbuckler au. Geralt’s gonna get very very Protective in this 'chapter'.

warnings for this chapter include: a very brief mention of blood, being threatened with a knife, and mild peril)

Why? Jaskier wondered. His back was pressed tightly against the rough brick of an unfamiliar alley wall and the man who had demanded his nonexistent coin-purse was pressing the tip of a very sharp dagger just below his navel. Why am I always the one getting into these kinds of situations?

“I told you, good sir, that I have no money on my person.”

“Everyone around here keeps gold ‘im. What kind of idiot goes around a port town full of pirates without some kind of insurance against coming to harm?”

“Are you saying that because I have no money you are going to do me harm?”

“Somethin’ like that,” the man leered. The dagger pushed in again and Jaskier knew that it had ripped through the fabric of his shirt when the tip suddenly bumped against the skin of his stomach. “Since you don’t have any money you’ll just have to come back and explain this misunderstanding to my captain yourself.”

“Excuse m-”

The man yanked Geralt’s lucky red bandanna down and tugged it backwards, sliding it between his teeth and effectively gagging the ex-nobleman. He spun Jaskier around and shoved his chest up tightly to the brick. The brigand roughly yanked his hands behind his back and tied them with a length of rope that appeared from seemingly nowhere. The newly minted pirate struggled violently, kicking out his legs and wiggling his torso in an effort to dislodge or disrupt his attacker. Maybe his struggling would get someone’s attention (although it was highly unlikely in a town such as this). Unfortunately the mugger was practiced and nothing Jaskier tried seemed to bother or slow him down at all.

Starkey and Lambert were only a few feet away! He could hear the rise and fall of their voices as they bartered for supplies with the hardtack merchant around the corner. The anxious brunette whined, trying to make the sound high enough to reach his friends and crewmates. If only he could get the kerchief out of his mouth for a split second, then he could whistle or shout…

He felt the surface of the wall scratching his skin through the hole in his shirt and he frowned. That would leave an unpleasant mark for the next few days and make wearing his sword-belt an absolute nightmare. If he was still part of the Kaer Morhen’s crew by nightfall, that was. If this man didn’t succeed in his current mission of pressing Jaskier into service aboard some other pirate vessel. Jaskier’s blue eyes widened even further as a real sense of panic set in. They might not be able to find me in time. We might head out to sea before Geralt even knows I’m missing if they don’t turn around and noti-

“Hey, where’s Jaskier?” he heard Starkey ask. Oh, thank gods.

“Shit.”

“We’d better find him quickly because I can see Geralt from here,” Starkey added. “I don’t want to be the one to tell him that we lost his precious little siren while we were busy bickering with a shopkeeper.”

“Fucking hells,” Lambert groaned. C’mon, Jaskier pleaded silently. Just around the corner, lads. Please, Starkey. You guys know I’m too annoying to stay quiet for this long.

The man with the dagger had already started yanking him backwards down the alley towards a questionable-looking wagon. Jaskier’s attacker kept one hand fisted into the back of the kerchief and used it to maneuver his head around, much like one would control the reins of a horse. The ex-noble made a loud, wordless noise from behind the cloth. Muffled as he was, he was praying that any one of his crewmates heard it and felt the need to investigate.

Another stranger in dark clothing appeared around the corner and helped the first man lift Jaskier onto the back of the wagon. The newcomer reached for Jaskier’s wildly flailing legs and pulled them together. He tied the brunette’s ankles with another piece of strong hemp rope and tested the knots with his fingers for any slack or give. There was none. The young man screamed and grunted, trying with every ounce of strength he possessed to free himself from their twin grips. It was a fruitless endeavor; they were strong and clearly practiced in the art of stealing other people’s crewmembers.

“Jaskier! Oh, fuck! Hey you there, let go of him!” Lambert was running down the alley towards them, hand on the hilt of his cutlass. The man keeping the gag cinched tight pulled his dagger out again, holding it up against the column of Jaskier’s throat. The second kidnapper released Jaskier’s tied ankles and made his way towards the front of the wagon. Lambert slid to a stop, eyes narrowed threateningly. “Captain! Starkey! I found ‘im. He’s in danger!”

Had Jaskier not been scared witless by the threat of having his life ended rather abruptly via blood-loss, he probably would have smirked. These men, regardless of who their scurvy-ridden captain was, were about to get their asses handed to them by one of the most wanted pirates to ever sail the seven seas. Certainly one of the most renowned and fearsome.

The blade of the knife pressed even more tightly against the skin of his Adam's apple and Jaskier flinched. Maybe, if I even live long enough to see Geralt kick their asses. At least my death will be avenged quickly, otherwise.

As if summoned by his lover’s thoughts the handsome, white-haired Captain appeared at the opposite end of the alley. Jaskier thought he might cry from the mere sight of him. He definitely wanted to let out a relieved sob when Geralt growled out, “It’ll go easier for both of you if you just put the dagger down and release the boy now.”

The ex-noble felt his captor’s muscles twitching nervously as he released a humorless chuckle. Don’t slip up now, Jaskier prayed. Not while you’ve got a knife against my neck.

“Why should we do that?” his captor questioned. The man tugged at the already taut bandanna and Jaskier whined in pain when the damp material bit into the skin of his cheeks. The fury written across Geralt’s features was absolutely terrifying; he looked like an avenging angel, his strong stature defined by the light of the square behind him and his silvery hair wild around his face.

Jaskier didn’t want to die, not in the slightest, but this wouldn’t be the worst last sight to see, all things considered. The man tugged the material again and Jaskier’s eyes widened when his neck scraped against the edge of the dagger’s sharp blade. “He’d fetch a fair price from our captain. He’d probably fetch a very hefty bit of gold if we took him down the coast a-ways, actually. Your threats aren’t going to lose me a nice bag of coin.”

Geralt took one slow, measured step forward and drew his cutlass with an effortless extension of his arm. “I’ll give you one last chance to let him go peacefully before I start slitting throats,” he snarled. The scowl on his face would make any ordinary person soil their knickers on sight, but the man holding Jaskier had probably seen something like this before. He was experienced. He teasingly nicked the young man’s tanned skin with the dagger and Jaskier hissed. The sound had Geralt’s eyes going wide with rage. His nostrils flared and his hand twitched. The kidnapper smirked confidently as a thin line of blood beaded on the brunette's skin, “Oops.”

There was a blur of movement from Geralt’s end of the alley, a whooshing sound, and then a wet thud. The man keeping Jaskier captive fell back, dropping his dagger to the ground below as he did. Jaskier wriggled forward in an attempt to reach Geralt and ended up toppling heavily off the back of the wagon and onto the cobblestone street. Lambert dashed to his side and pulled the kerchief out from between his teeth. The younger man was panting, blue eyes wild and confused. “Did Geralt just hit that guy with a knife!?”

“Yeah.”

The ex-noble gave a short, hysterical laugh. His eyes took on a glazed, unfocused quality and Lambert looked to Geralt for help. “Neat,” he muttered.

Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was the shock of having his life legitimately threatened, the smell of his own blood invading his nose, or the impact from hitting the stone walkway, but just as Geralt knelt down at his side, he passed out.

----------

When his eyelids finally fluttered open again, Jaskier had to squint. The late-afternoon sun slanted in through the porthole of Geralt’s cabin, surrounding the grim-faced Captain with a halo of golden light. “My hero,” Jaskier sighed. He was a lucky man to have a lover so attentive, protective, and also incredibly sexy.

“Jaskier!” the pirate pulled him into a sitting position and wrapped him in a hug, crushing the slightly smaller man against his broad chest. “I was so worried that he’d gotten your vein or hurt you some other way that we couldn’t see. Are you alright, little nymph?”

“I’m alright,” he blushed. Geralt’s nose was buried stubbornly in his hair, breathing in repeatedly as if he’d been afraid he’d never see Jaskier awake again. “Really, darling, I’m just a little shaken. That’s all. I thought we were running errands today. I wasn’t expecting to be taken captive and threatened with a life of piracy.”

“You’re - Jask, you’re living a life of piracy.”

“It was a joke,” the ex-noble teased. Geralt relaxed his grip slightly and leaned back. His amber eyes searched Jaskier’s blue ones for any sign of dishonesty or hidden pain and found none. His siren was telling the truth. The Captain took a seat on the edge of his small bed and dragged his lover onto his lap. Jaskier noticed with a sly smile that he was draped in one of the White Wolf’s overly-large burgundy shirts. One he didn’t wear very often but that Jaskier found him endlessly attractive in nonetheless. “Geralt, did you change my shirt for me?”

“Your other one was ripped. It had blood on it. We also had to bandage your wounds.”

“Oh. Thank you for letting me borrow it,” Jaskier flapped his arms a little, letting the sleeves roll down over his hands. “I love roomy shirts to sleep in.”

“You can just ask to borrow them,” the Captain relented. “You don’t always need a scheme to get what you want, little nymph.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sighed, cuddling close again. “I absolutely did not think up the idea of coming to bodily harm in order to borrow your shirts, as likely as that sounds. Thank you for rescuing me, Geralt.”

“I am not an easy man to scare,” the pirate intoned seriously. His grip on Jaskier tightened and his voice grew scratchy with emotion as he continued. “But seeing you like that today had me more frightened than I’ve ever been before in my life. I’ve faced down bigger ships with better guns and more men than mine. I was briefly incarcerated by the mayor of Novigrad and sentenced to hang. I’ve seen my fair share of scary things, my sweet siren, but I would never be able to live with myself if you came to harm. That’s the most terrifying thought of all.”

“Geralt,” the young man gasped. He wrapped his arms around his Captain’s shoulders and moved to straddle the larger man’s wide lap. He pressed a brief but bracing kiss to the White Wolf’s saltwater-chapped lips. “The thought of never seeing you again is the worst thought in the world. Let us never be parted.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s left hand moved to grip Jaskier’s corresponding hip while his right arm went around the back of his nymph’s slender shoulders. He gently pulled their chests together and nibbled his way up the uninjured side of his little nymph’s neck, reveling in every soft, yielding noise the brunette made. He pressed a rough, wet kiss to the soft skin behind Jaskier’s ear and growled possessively, “Never.”

(of course 1/2 of all my swashbuckling au credit goes to @limrx)

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purekesseltrash · 3 years

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My Fic List

Whelp, decided I should do one of these. I have mostly written for Hockey RPF and BNHA, as you have likely already seen!

My BNHA Fics

Bury Them Deep

- “Shouji Mezou's entire life has revolved around being a goalie and playing hockey since he was five years old. After being drafted in the third round in the NHL, Shouji has two more years of college before moving on to playing professional hockey like he's always wanted. Or at least like he always thought he wanted. An injury that ends his season throws him into a tailspin, forcing him to take a look at his life and how he is going to live it, especially after meeting his fascinating new goth history tutor.”

(This bad bitch is 81k total and is chock full of my red hot hockey takes and midwestern references. I love it very much and it is a sweet baby.)

The Rooftop Necromancy series AKA my black metal band AU:

Downhill from Here

- “ Hizashi just wants to tour the country with his best friends with their metal band in their shitty van like they've been planning for years. He'd successfully hidden his crush on one of them for years, after all, he would definitely be able to make this work and keep things fun and uncomplicated. Until Aizawa decided to start acting weird. “

(In which I take you all on a nostalgic trip to 2006-2008 metal culture and you can see the black metal love song that my dumb ass wrote.)

The Perfect Mistake

- “ It wasn't as though Hizashi had planned on breaking up with his boyfriend while they were on tour in a tiny cargo van with no room and no peace. He would have much rather preferred to do it when they were home and he could easily go and crawl back into his mom's basement. But he didn't have a choice. “

(As relationships tend to do, theirs goes through problems.)

Rooftop Necromancy

-"He’d even ended up leaning into the crowd when someone’s elbow had connected solidly with his nose and thrown him back. They’d gone quiet as Hizashi got himself up to his feet, ripped off his now bloody ‘Within Temptations’ tshirt from 2004, whipped his hair back from his face and screamed, “That’s what I’m FUCKING talking about.” into the mic.

They went wild for it, cheering as blood ran down his nose, past his mouth and dripped onto the stage, leaving him feeling like an otherworldly monster performing an occult ritual. Metal, he thought dazedly to himself, why in the fuck had he ever stopped doing metal."

(I hyperfocused so hard at the idea of Mic as a metal head that I wrote this in seven straight hours and WROTE THROUGH THE ATTEMPTED COUP ON DEMOCRACY WITHOUT KNOWING IT. It’s a bit rough, but it’s got some good parts and it spawned the whole damn series.)

Hands Up

- "But of course he had, they had always been able to read each other and what they meant. That had often been their problem, if he was going to be honest."

(In which they figure their shit out. Basically it was written when I was thinking alot about how my own mental health had evolved through the years. It’s basically the story of two people who are both very good for each other and also very bad and how they deal with that. It’s probably the most personally meaningful thing I’ve ever written.)

The other BNHA fics:

Waking Up With Ghosts

-"Hizashi opened his eyes to a world that belonged to ghosts. His headphones were gone and the gray, grimy world that he felt more than saw was muffled and still. This was bad, he hazily thought."

In which we follow Hizashi shortly after the events of 296. How he's found, how he finds out and how he has to tell.”

(I fished this one out of the garbage of my Google Docs because I’d written most of it and forgotten about it. I dragged it out, prettied it up a little and threw it up on AO3. It is by far my most well read BNHA fic, go figure.)

Leave Her Johnny

-”Captain Hizashi Yamada has combed the Seven Seas looking for the elusive smuggler Eraserhead. He has spent years searching for him, tracking his movements and trying to anticipate where he would be next. But he had never considered what would happen when he finally found him. “

(I wrote a paragraph of this and was immediately like ‘I MUST CREATE THIS’. I take some chances writing wise in this as the whole thing is done in a Victorian Era ish style of writing. But I think it’s effective and the ending is likely one of the best that I’ve ever managed. I’m proud of it.)

Gold Rush

-”"That earned him a laugh and Mashirao’s smile made something in his chest ache, something that made him want to hurt. Why had he ever left?

“I’m really not,” Mashirao was saying but Shinsou just shook his head and kissed him once, twice and wished he could take the sunny afternoon and make it stay forever. Make it stay forever like Mashirao somehow had, while the neighborhood had adjusted without Hitoshi’s permission.

“You are,” he said, “And I love it.”

I love you, he should have said. But as Mashirao’s eyes softened and the blonde pushed him back against the bed, Hitoshi knew he didn’t need to say it."

(You know how sometimes you listen to a Death Cab for Cutie song about gentrification over and over until a fic comes out? Because that’s basically what happened here.)

Black Sun

‘"But then he remembered the way that Shouji had eaten the night after, one hand curled into his hair as he hung back in the corner. Shouji hid when something was wrong, like a wounded cat trying to find a dark place to either live or die and he was being released tomorrow. Now was the time to push or he’d find Shouji right back on his bed, staring at nothing."

Something happened to Shouji on the beach. Tokoyami is sure of it.‘

(Aaaaaand Death Cab for Cutie strikes again. But heyo, my first published ShouToko and it is SOFTTTTT)

In the Far and Mighty West

Mic came closer and despite himself, Shouta could not find it in him to feel afraid. “You won’t understand, not really. I’ll try, though. I’m like Pecos Bill or Paul Bunyan or a jackalope or that fish that your friend caught that he swears he brought in but that you’ve never seen proof of. I’m the herd of dogies moving sweet and steady in the right direction, I’m no stragglers to worry about, I’m that perfect dog that’s there to keep them in line. I’m that group of good friends that you would kill for, I’m the woman who you’re dying to come home to, I’m that promised home of milk and honey. I’m Mic.”

Shouta stared at him dazedly and licked his lips, feeling drunk and stupid as he stared at the man. “You’re… magic?”

“I suppose you could call me that.”

(Cowboy!Erasermic. Inspired heavily by American Gods and my own love of folk heroes.)

In Your Violence

- “'Mezou frowned, eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to say that you’re scared that I’ll be killed by having faith in you?”

“It would be in your best interest to stay away from me,” Fumikage finally said, his voice falling flat and quiet. “I am destined to be a monster.”

'Mezou gets the call he fears, the one that says that Fumikage has lost control again. But this time it's different, in more ways than one.”

(I listened to Silence by Marshmello until I went insane in this is the result. Featuring some of my super depressing headcanons about Shouji! But it’s not awful.)

My hockey fics that I still like:

Hufflepuff Halfwit

- ““Zhenya, the wind is coming from the west, I will not remind you again. You shut that window before the house stinks of factories!” She snapped and Geno stared at the owl as though maybe it would know what to do. But instead, it had given a little hoot and wiggled inside, only to drop it’s letter on the counter.

He turned his head very slowly back to look at his mother, who had suddenly gone very quiet. “It… just showed up, Mama. And um. It brought a letter.” He waited again, looked back at the owl who had begun to nose at the pirozhkis in interest and then looked back at his mother with the best puppy dog eyes he had ever attempted. “Can I keep it?”

(This is a part of my hockey/Harry Potter au that still legitimately haunts my dreams. It’s basically a Sid/Geno in Hogwarts but I really love the world building I got to do with Koldovstoretz, the Russian school of wizardry. Don’t read ‘On the Word of a Slytherin’ though, I’m not as proud of that one.)

The Prince

- “What the fuck.” Matt breathed out, sitting back heavily onto his hotel bed as he stared at his phone.

‘This is Henrik.’ The text read. ‘I would like to meet you. I will book a room in Pittsburgh at your convenience. Let me know what time will work for you.’ -

(Listen, it’s Henrik Lundqvist/Matt Murray smut, I feel like that is novel and interesting and worth your attention. I wax poetic on goalies in this, as you do.)

The Zoo of Toronto

- “No one missed it when a massive porcupine had shuffled in between the reporters with a single minded focus, pushing media away until it was able to grip onto Phil’s suit pants and try to pull itself up. He hadn’t been able to do more then besides pick the animal up before it could shred his pants to shreds and walk out of the locker room before the decision had been made with the Toronto media.

Phil Kessel was guilty.”

(Not gonna lie, this is probably my favorite of the hockey fics I’ve written. And it’s Phil/Carl, which is never found anymore but it was a good pairing.)

#my writing

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rigmarolling · 4 years

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Myth Time: Loki and the Goat

Once upon a time, the ice giantess/goddess/resident “I-have-no-indoor-voice friend” Skadi was upset about Asgard killing her dad, so she kicked down the door to their victory party and went, “WHO’S THE LITTLE PISSANT WHO KILLED MY FATHER?”

Everyone just stared, mouths full of feast food, and pointed to Loki like

And Loki went

Skadi glowered, axe in hand and went, “If you people don’t FIX this IMMEDIATELY, heads will roll, and by heads, I specifically mean--” and she swung her head in a certain jötunn’s direction-- “that head.”

And Loki was like

Odin immediately went into PR cleanup mode and said, “You’re right--we’re either advertently or inadvertently responsible for the death of your father. What is it that you want?”

And Skadi leaned in and hissed between her teeth, “I want blood.”

Odin, who generally preferred to be literally anywhere else about 95% of the time, went

and said, “Right, well, we’re in the middle of something right now, so besides bloodshed, what can we do to make reparations?”

Skadi narrowed her eyes. Sniffed. Looked around imperiously at the idiots with mouths full of mutton, and said, “I want three things.”

“Name them,” Odin said.

Skadi propped her axe against the wall, straightened up, and looked down at Odin through her frosted eyelashes.

“One,” she said, “I want you to cast my father’s eyes into the sky so they will be immortalized as eternal, shining stars.”

Odin went

but did it, anyway, because everyone’s got their quirks; who was he to judge?

Then, brushing the eyeball goo off of his hands, Odin asked, “What’s the second thing?”

Skadi sniffed.

“Secondly, I demand that one of you makes me laugh.”

The gods shifted in their seats. If they weren’t nervous before, they absolutely were now, because Skadi never laughed. Like, ever.

“Skadi never laughs,” Thor muttered in disbelief. “Like, ever.”

Skadi’s head swiveled in his direction. “Did you say something, you walking sausage roll?”

Thor quickly swallowed the bite of pie he’d been chewing. “No, no. Nothing.”

“My liege lady,” Odin said quickly, his tone suddenly silken. “Why not something...simpler? We wouldn’t want to insult you with lukewarm attempts at humor, after all--”

“Someone,” Skadi declared imperiously, “had better make me laugh, or I swear by the Norns, I will garrote each and every one of you with your own intestines while your children watch on the sidelines and weep for their gutless progenitors!”

Thor blinked and went,

But they had no choice. So, sweating slightly and fighting back anxiety pee, the gods each took their turn trying to make Skadi laugh.

Tyr, the god of war, tried some biting political satire. Skadi didn’t even blink.

Idunn, the goddess of youth, rattled off a few celebrity impressions, but was really more of a “behind the scenes” sort of gal, so Skadi remained stone-faced.

Baldr quoted a few lines from The Importance of Being Earnest, but nobody knew what the hell he was talking about or who the hell Oscar Wilde was, so that was bust.

Thor tried his hand at that one “orange you glad I didn’t say banana” knock knock joke that you thought was the pinnacle of comedy when you were five, but he blew it three times before Skadi shot him a look that could have incinerated steel and he hurried back to his seat.

Frigg, goddess of foresight, tossed out a few legitimately great quips about tech culture in Silicon Valley, but being the goddess of foresight generally meant that she was the only one who would get her references for at least 1,000 years. Skadi, flummoxed, simply scowled.

There was enough awful improv to make even that insufferable guy in your college lit class cringe; there was bad, white-dad-at-a-wedding dancing; there were ham-fisted attempts at stand up, but very few gods understood the concept of “setup and payoff,” so every single bit flopped like a dead fish.

Skadi was growing more and more irritable by the second. Her mouth had all but disappeared into a thin line, and her fingers had started twitching, which usually meant she was either bored or hadn’t punched anything in at least an hour.

Worst of all, mid-way through Bragi’s frankly atrocious tagelharpa routine, Skadi had walked away, retrieved her axe, and sat it down next to her.

Bragi, who wouldn’t have noticed a nuclear detonation if it exploded five feet away as long as he was in the middle of a performance, continued, undeterred.

Meanwhile, Loki had been watching from the sidelines, leaning up against an outer wall of the mead hall, his arms crossed, his jaw clenched.

By the time Bragi got to what had to be the 23rd verse, Loki went

and made his way to where Bragi was going on about something to do with a wolf swallowing the sun, nothing important, and hissed, “Stop. Just stop. Just stop! Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with you people?”

Then, letting out a huff of frustration, he loped over to the nearby pasture-- which was full of livestock just minding their own business, they didn’t ask for any of this, really-- and whistled at a goat.

The goat, who on some instinctual level knew exactly what was about to happen because he’d been around Loki long enough to know that something always happened, let out a sigh and trotted over.

Then, casting the goat a glance that clearly said, “I owe you one, buddy,” Loki pulled a rope seemingly out of nowhere and, with a look of determination that made everybody in the vicinity incredibly uneasy, dropped his pants.

“What the hell?” cried Freyja, goddess of love and war and death, how metal, love her.

But Loki was in full frat mode at this point.

His goods swinging free for everyone to see, he tied one end of the rope around the goat’s horns.

And the other to his own testicles.

Immediately objecting to having himself tethered to balls that belonged to this guy of all people, the goat began to pull backwards.

Loki let out a thin whine, his face draining of all color, and stumbled forward.

The men in the group looked faintly nauseated.

With a breathless sort of grunting sound, Loki tugged back, pulling the goat forward. But the goat was just done with this shit, oh my God, what the hell? and bucked backward with an indignant, “Baa!”

Loki skittered forward again with a yelp and then hurled himself in the opposite direction, “baa-ing” right back.

And on it went--the goat leaping back and pulling Loki balls-first with him, and Loki tugging back until the goat stumbled unceremoniously forward.

At this point, the other gods and goddesses were howling with laughter and/or sympathy pain, and Loki had never known anything but suffering, holy shit, oh, God, I fucked up, I actually did it, I actually permanently fucked up this time for real, oh, sweet mother of God, this goat is the worst goat in the world, just--just the worst fucking goat, just a really, really bad fucking goat--

His vision spotty, his lower half engulfed with the sort of agony that was all-encompassing and obliterating and just oh my God, you’re a fucking idiot, you really, really are, Loki gave one last, mighty tug, roaring like a cat in heat, and the rope snapped, sending the goat skittering back and Loki tumbling, butt cheeks-first, right into Skadi’s lap.

There was a thick, heavy silence. Loki let out a series of noises that sounded like an anemic balloon slowly being deflated.

And suddenly, Skadi began to laugh.

And laugh.

She laughed so hard, she had to screw her eyes shut to stem the flow of tears. She laughed so hard, she actually stopped making noise and took to wheezing, instead.

In her lap, Loki had lost all sense of space and time and would have really liked to have thrown up, thanks, but to his credit, everyone else was laughing so hard, they’d all started to cry-wheeze, too, so he settled for rolling to the side in a fetal position and clutching his now grotesquely swollen balls, distantly thinking, “That’s showbiz, baby.”

“Well,” said Odin over the din of laughter, clapping his hands together and smiling despite himself, “that settles it, Skadi! We’ve made you laugh. Reparations are made, and no hard feelings, hmm?”

As abruptly as she’d started, Skadi suddenly stopped cackling. Her face, which only a second earlier had been stretched wide in a grin, collapsed back into Miranda Priestly coolness.

“No,” she bit out. “That does not settle it. I still require one more thing.”

Odin had known that; he’d simply hoped she’d been distracted enough that she’d forgotten.

*Narrator voice* she hadn’t.

“Of course.” Odin plastered on a smile and said between his teeth, “Name it.”

Something in Skadi’s glittering, cool eyes softened. Her gaze roved appraisingly over the gods gathered around her.

“I want a husband.”

The men assembled felt a collective scrotum twinge of apprehension.

From his place curled up on the ground, Loki wheezed, “Not it.”

#Mythtory #norse mythology #loki

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heli0s-writes · 4 years

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Fuckin’ Legit

Pairings: Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: Follow up to Fuckin’ Teamwork, based off this ask. A/N: More silly shenanigans. Dumbass reader :) 2.1k words

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

Bucky watches from a distance as you hurl through the air and land right heel-first on the training dummy, knocking its head off and making it bounce off the floor with enough force to lodge itself into the ceiling. The room of SHIELD recruits clap and cheer, and when the dummy’s head flops back down you kick it like a hacky-sack at Maria Hill.

“Great demonstration,” Hill catches the head and tucks it under her arm. “Are you interested in teaching a course in hand-to-hand combat with a focus on aerial recovery? Legitimately?”

“Only if you promise not to fall in love with me.” You send a wink at her and then, as soon as you see Bucky’s bewildered face through the other side of the glass, you leap after him. He’s convinced you’re dumber than a bag of rocks, but you’re not deterred by it—especially not after Maria Hill’s validation. Puffing your chest, you skip forward, “Hey, Buck! I’m legit!”

Immediately, you trip and face plant into the nearest surface. The room collectively hisses in discomfort.

“I take that back.” Maria hurriedly ushers the recruits out before they can witness anything else.

Bucky slips through the door and roughly yanks you up by your elbow, wincing when your nose reveals a line of blood dripping into your mouth. “Legit, my ass. Come on. Stark called for us.”

The air in the conference room is stagnant and overwrought with a million unsaid—unscreamed—expressions. Tony pivots on his lifted heels, finger jabbing toward the big screen where a dark and grainy image is projected.

“Care to explain this? Friday pulled it from a broadcast coming from the cell.” He narrows his eyes at you as you slump down into the swivel chair until only the top of your head shows. “How about you?” Tony gestures to Bucky.

Tony has a laser pointer in his other hand, and he shines the red spotlight on the picture where Bucky’s knees are bent and planted to the ground. The dot trails over his thigh and then over the smaller frame beneath him.

You’re there, arched upward into his torso, legs hooked around his tapered waist, heels digging into his spine. Four of his thick flesh fingers are shoved inside your mouth, pulling your cheek open, and the dim light catches a sliver of your wet tongue. His other forearm is pushed onto your sternum, holding you down.

It looks bad.

It looks like Bucky is dry humping the daylights out of you in an abandoned Hydra facility.

Sam erupts into a screeching laugh when he finally pieces it together, pitching forward until he’s flattened against the wood table. “Ho-Homygod--- This is the best day of my life. Is this the cyanide incident?”

Bucky is red from head to toe.

Natasha rolls her eyes and slides away from the table. “Tony, she ate two cyanide capsules. Barnes was wrestling them out of her mouth.”

Tony stiffens for a moment as he ponders the truth behind her statement. Then, he quirks his head like an owl, flares his nostrils, and stoops beneath the table to find you resembling a boneless pile of flesh.

“Everyone is dismissed.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I wish I could fire you.”

A quiet whimper escapes your lips, the most pathetic noise to ever come from a human being. “But…” You whine pathetically, “I’m legit.”

A few nights later, you find yourself sneaking through yet another dusty old hideout. Surprise, surprise, Hydra is bad with maintenance and loves asbestos.

Steve made you an outline of all your tasks on his mission, written in all caps, folded neatly, and shoved it into your back pocket before departure. You skimmed over it on the plane before crumbling it up. The first bullet point had glared: NO CANDY.

Tightass.

You easily clear the wing and dispatch your status to Sam who is waiting patiently in the jet, fingers on the console. Bucky is patrolling the perimeter and you are taking the east side while Redwing zooms through the west.

There have been trip wires (newbie shit) and also surprisingly advanced attempts at entrapment so far (motion sensors, temperature regulated alarms). They’ve all been expertly pulled apart and rewired and you are taking a short break fucking around in the hallway, peering at dusty paintings of – some old dead bald guys. You take a picture of one and send it to Tony, labelled it’s like looking into the future.

Chortling, you continue down the corridor aimlessly until you hear a creak.

The knife in your hand is blade-first and coming down hard on the body sneaking up until— “Oh Barnes!” You cry happily, tucking it back into the strap on your wrist. “Good. You’re here! There’s only one more room—I’ve been crushing it.”

Literally two seconds after you say that, you turn the corner and run face-first into the door. Bucky pauses as if he doesn’t quite register what just happened before slowly reaching forward and gently applying pressure to the handle.

It’s written all over his face: you’re an idiot. You are seriously lacking some brain cells.

He leads the way carefully, swatting cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and taking stock of each corner, rifle pointed forward and alert. Behind him, your boots thump noisily against the floor and a chair is tipped over when your arm crashes into it.

Bucky spins on his heels and catches the chair before it can fall on top of what looks like a very obviously placed … box.

It’s a box.

A giant red box is on the floor, outlined with a square of white tape. Two abnormally unsoiled items in a room made almost entirely out of forty-year old dandruff. Your hands are already on both sides of it before Bucky can knock you out of the way.

“Don’t!” He screams because fucking anything could be under there!

A wild animal! A toxic chemical! A bomb! Snakes, for fuck’s sake! His eyes widen at the fading shadow cast on the floor as you lift the top away. Then, his heart stops beating.

It’s a slice of cake. And a cup of tea. A single slice of vanilla sheet cake neatly decorated with a blush-pink rose and two perfectly piped green leaves. The faint smell of jasmine wafts into the air.

Bucky barrels into you before you get the chance to lick your lips.

“Wilson!” He calls into the comm as you push his face away with an offended yelp, “They’re in the east side—set a trap for us! Get over here and bring your stupid bird too! I swear to God—NO! DO NOT!”

In the hovering Quinjet, Sam Wilson leaps to his feet and swoops out of the cabin, wings folded as he dives. “Come again?!” He taps on the comm wedged inside his left ear, “Barnes!?”

“-- fuck-- gonna—fucking--- stop BITING ME!”

A furious row of explosions blare in Sam’s ear as he banks a sharp left and lands on two feet, tearing his way inside the facility, checking on his wrist all the while. Redwing’s camera is glitching, but he can make out flashes of gunfire and what looks like at least five bodies, not including his two teammates. Bursts of white erupt on the screen and Sam’s heart picks up a tremendous pace before he kicks the door down, pistols out and aimed.

A silence smothers the room before grunting and screaming erupts again over Sam’s shout of, “What is going on in here?!”

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact moment I came upon my fellow Avengers,” Sam pauses, waving his hand with a bow at the image projected on the conference room screen.

Friday pulled another image from the broadcast before Sam shot out all the cameras in the facility.

It seems that the previous video of you eating cyanide had been intercepted through a bounced signal from the original recording’s output and those on the other end decided you were enough of a proper imbecile to be tricked by something as simple as a slice of cake.

They weren’t wrong.

Tony’s laser is in Sam’s hand and he points the dot in flashes five times, “Dead dudes. Check.” The dot moves on, landing on two splayed out legs before it runs up the side of Bucky’s body pressed to the concrete. “Barnes. Check.” Bucky shuts his eyes and slams his head into the table. “And… here we have this.”

Sam points to you, bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth as you lurch forward, one hand outstretched and smeared with frosting while the other holds your torso barely an inch from the ground, paying no mind to the two elbows digging into your stomach. Sam points again to where your crotch is pushed right into Bucky’s face.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve mutters, flushing red, “I wrote you directions for a reason…”

“Excuse me,” You huff, “Cake is not candy.”

“Really?!” Bucky snaps, “That’s the hill you’re going to die on!? You ran into the door! You knocked over a chair! You looked at the one thing that did not belong in the room and you picked it up even after I told you not to!”

Steve jumps back into the grilling, “And if you would have read the rest of the list—NO FOOD AT ALL was number two!”

“Oh yeah!?” You’re near hysterical now, shrieking at the top of your lungs. Stupid men ganging up on you. “What was number three? No fun!? I’m Captain America and I’m such a tightass--”

Bucky cuts you off, throwing his hands up into the air, “Number three was get the blueprints!”

“Oh.”

The room falls silent as you tuck your hand into the pocket of your pants. “Why didn’t you just say so? I nabbed ‘em as soon as I got in there. Marked off the locations of all the cameras and security alarms—not like that matters since Wilson shot them and I disarmed the rest in the east wing. Also, there were corridors and secret entryways not in the file. It’s on here now.”

Carelessly, you chuck the flash drive from your pocket at Steve and it smacks him in the chest. Sam crosses his arms and cocks his head at you, “Shit. Didn’t know you were all that.”

You frolic to the door, “See ya later!”

Three men watch on in shocked silence as you prance down the hallway, banking a sharp right towards your room. Steve stares from Sam to Bucky and then to the flash drive in his hand.

Sam clucks, “You know what… All things considered… the girl is legit.”

He calls your name, bangs on the door with a hard fist and when it cracks open, you peek your head out with tired eyes. “Sup, buttercup?”

“Why are you like this? The cyanide? The cake? You had the flash drive the whole time!”

You shrug off what sounds like an accusation, “I dunno. I’m good at my job.” Bucky crosses his arms. “Barnes!” You scold with a growing grin, “I’m legit! I just… you know. Why put all the pressure on myself when you’re around?”

You snort a little, scratch your tummy underneath an oversized shirt absently, and shrug your shoulders repeatedly like you’re dancing. Bucky narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me you’re an idiot because of me?”

“Yeah, Buck. I know you’ll take care of me.”

He freezes. Feels a sudden swell of heat rush from his chest to the top of his head. Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. He closes it. You give him a sleepy grin, leaning on the door and swinging it wide, faltering against the knob with a yelp.

Swiftly, and true to his character, Bucky catches you with one arm.

Hanging from his hold, body twisted around, you look up into his blue eyes. They’re strangely tender, dancing over your face with an inquisitive glimmer.

The moment shatters when Bucky’s gaze stops at your neckline. “Is that—" he frowns, “Is your shirt on backwards?”

You nod. “Uh huh. Inside out too.”

His eyes slip shut. With a sigh, he drops you flat on your back and turns around. “You’re an idiot. I hate you.”

Down the hallway as he stomps off, cursing the moment the thought you were cute or something… he hears your voice calling.

“I’m an idiot— but I’m legit, right? And I’m your idiot, right? Bucky? Bucky!”

Bucky holds back a grin. Flicks you off behind his back. Legit or not, he would never give you the satisfaction of knowing.

perm taglist @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #crackfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #humor

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ankewehner · 3 years

Text

Livetweet of accidentally getting into fairyland...

Best twitter thread ever?

https://twitter.com/NeolithicSheep/status/1330548523721515013 Shepherd: Oh hey Ursula, do you have the number for those people who take out invasive plants still?

Ursula: Probably somewhere, yeah. They said they didn’t usually work on such small properties, though, and I don’t know if I’ve got an infestation worth their time.

Shepherd: Ok but what if I say "kudzu" to you, can we throw enough money at them to make it worth their time.

Ursula: If you say “kudzu” to me, I will panic, scream, and come running to Dogskull with a flamethrower.

Shepherd: Ok well I suggest driving but maybe pack up the flamethrower. Ursula: OH MY GOD YOU FOUND KUDZU OH GOD WHERE IS IT ARE YOU SURE IT ISN’T JUST WILD GRAPE

Shepherd: YES I KNOW WHAT WILD GRAPE LOOKS LIKE THANK YOU anyway I was walking Beamer this morning after the deer ate breakfast and the white deer was walking down toward the back of the property, you know that low tucked away part? And I thought, well, we'll just trail after her at a polite distance and if I'm lucky I'll find some of her fur caught on a bush! Wouldn't that be great! So we kept going past the big ass fucking oak trees that make, like, that weird arch? And there's kudzu.

Ursula: What big oak trees?! There’s no big oak trees back there! It’s all pine!

Shepherd: Yeah you know, the two really big motherfuckers that look like English oak. They're like, way the fuck back there.

Ursula: There are no English oak on Dogskull. Are you sure you weren’t trespassing on the Freemason’s property?

Shepherd: No they're closer to the front I think? Who's next door to them? Also I thought Dog Skull was 7 acres? Because I should be off it and hitting the road by now.

Ursula: Next door to them is the people with the trailer on its side. Do you see any trailers lying on their sides?

Shepherd: A lot of oak trees, a little bit of kudzu, zero trailers in any orientation. Some birds and squirrels. Oh hey Beamer found a nice pond.

Ursula: Okay, this is important. Do the oak trees still have leaves on them?

Shepherd: Yeah but so does the one up front. Oh wait. These are, uh, still green. Like summer green.

Ursula: Right. Okay. This could be a problem. Give me a couple minutes, we have to take trash to the dump and then I’ll look some stuff up. Meanwhile, DON’T EAT ANYTHING.

Shepherd: You mean in case it's poisonous, right? Like THEORETICALLY if I didn't see this tweet until just now and HYPOTHETICALLY I found an apple tree and ate an apple, that would be fine?

Ursula: ...that would not be fine.

Shepherd: Beamer didn't want any, which was weird I thought.

Ursula: INDUCE VOMITING! INDUCE VOMITING!

Shepherd: He didn't eat anything! I'm not going to gag my dog for not eating an apple!

Ursula: Not the dog! Induce vomiting in yourself! Every chunk of that apple needs to come out before you digest it!

Shepherd: FINE. I have puked it up. It was a really good apple, too.

Ursula: Oh thank god. Whew. Okay. The alternative was that you were gonna need a cold iron enema and I wasn’t sure how to do that on short notice.

Shepherd: Oh hey fun fact, "cold iron" is just, like, iron. It's not a special kind or anything!

Ursula: Do you have any on you right now? Beamer’s collar or tags or anything?

Shepherd: Collar hardware is all aluminum these days, otherwise it rusts. Let me pat down my pockets. Syringe of dewormer? Is that helpful?

Shepherd: Anyway I don't want to alarm you but uh. I can't find the trail I followed? So you and Kevin will need to go over tonight and give the boys [i.e. oxen] a hay bale and the goats and sheep two.

Ursula: No! I am scared of cows! We have to get you out of there! Look, I have a bunch of Llewelyn books from my teenage pagan days. I’m sure Scott Cunningham or Silver Ravenwolf covered this somewhere.

Shepherd: Scott Cunningham seems like a really drastic measure just because you're afraid of some cows. But sooner or later I'm going to run out of cigarettes so sure, why not. Oh!! The boys' bow pins are in my pocket, I was going to sand them today and oil them! They're very definitely iron!

Ursula: That’s good! That’s very good! If anyone tries to talk to you, keep hold of those! Now let’s see...do you consider yourself a “solitary practitioner?”

Shepherd: Ursula I'm an ornamental hermit, you don't get much more solitary. Also so far the only person who tried to talk to me was a frog.

Ursula: ...what did the frog say?

Shepherd: "SMOKING KILLS." I tossed it back in the pond.

Ursula: *rubs forehead*

Shepherd: Fucking frogs are all alike, I'm telling you.

Ursula: I really wish these authors had spent less time on “why Wicca isn’t Satanism” and more time on “what to do when you’ve strayed into the fae realms.” I mean, I understand it was the political climate of the time...

Shepherd: I feel like nobody really covers that last one anymore. You have 4 hours until the cows want dinner.

Ursula: Silver Ravenwolf suggests making your magical working space more inviting with stencils? These books spend a surprising amount of time on interior decorating as a vital part of ritual magick. I never noticed that when I was fifteen.

Shepherd: Yeah me neither honestly. It's remarkably unhelpful when you're stuck in faerie and your collie is getting bored. Shepherd: So you want me to... Build a magical working space and stencil it?

Ursula: I can’t actually see how that would help matters. Maybe I should check the Foxfire books instead.

Shepherd: I... Don't remember them having anything relevant, but I might be wrong?

Ursula: They have everything. Ooh, this one is about how to scald the bristles off a hog!

Shepherd: A) I already know how to do that and B) I do not have a hog, sufficient firewood, or a hog scrubbing brush here. FOCUS, URSULA. FOCUS.

Ursula: Sorry, the ADHD meds haven’t kicked in yet today...uh...let’s see...avoid whippoorwills, if you see any?

Shepherd: I do that already, otherwise they steal your toenails.

Ursula: If you harvest apples, leave one on the tree or it attracts the Devil.

Shepherd: You told me not to eat the apples! Am I allowed to eat the apples now??

Ursula: No! These are hypothetical apples! NO EATING! I tried to look up deer in the Foxfire books and there’s a story about somebody’s grandpa wrestling a buck in a mill dam and drowning it, but I don’t see the relevance here. I mean, Grandpa does sound like a badass, though.

Shepherd: I feel like I shouldn't wrestle deer here. What if I try telling Beamer to find his sheep?

Ursula: Well, research has hit a small snag. I tried googling for the foxfire books and kudzu, in case there was something about fae kudzu portals, right? But it turns out your Twitter is the third hit. Shep, we may BE the experts.

Shepherd: Uh oh. OK. In that case, you and Kevin go over to Dog Skull. Hitch up Cole and Cannon and take them back to the oak trees. Put a logging chain around one and yell real loud "LET SHEPHERD OUT OR WE START PULLING"

Ursula: Oh hell no! I read tree law Reddit! I know how this ends! Do you want us to get sued by Freemasons?!

Shepherd: I DON'T THINK THE FREEMASONS ARE THE PROBLEM HERE, URSULA

Ursula: I DON’T TRUST THEM WITH THEIR LITTLE LEVELS AND SHEEPSKINS AND WEIRDLY OCULAR PYRAMIDS Also if you see a pyramid with an eye on it, don’t eat it’s either.

Ursula: Okay. Never mind the Freemasons. I wrote a book about this once, I think. White animals, scary fae, random magic deer. It was set in Finland, so you may need to fashion some umlauts, though.

Shepherd: I've got my chore knife, I can carve so many umlauts. Do I just put them in trees until I get back?

Ursula: First of all, are you wearing pants?

Shepherd: YES I'M WEARING PANTS YOU WEIRDO

Ursula: t’s a legitimate question! I mean, I’m not wearing pants.

Now Shep, this is very important. You have to take off your pants.

Also your shoes, your hoodie, and probably Beamer’s collar.

Shepherd: Ursula. Why are we getting naked.

Ursula: To break the misdirection spell! Put your clothes on backwards!

And possibly inside out? Shit, there’s a bunch of different sources. I don’t know if they have to be inside out, but definitely backwards.

Uh...let’s see...hmm, backwards definitely. Inside out might be for leshy. Leshies? Leshys? What’s the plural form, do you think?

If you happen to see any giggling green hairy dudes, ask them what the plural form of their name is. That’s gonna bug me.

Shepherd: Beamer's collar doesn't have a backwards! I'll turn it inside out. And my clothes backwards and inside out, got it.

Shepherd: There's just, like, frogs. And squirrels. I can hear music though! There might be a dance party, I could go ask about green hairy dudes?

Ursula: STAY AWAY FROM THE MUSIC unless it’s the Freemasons I guess

Shepherd: No it's more folk music. The Freemasons play, like, Michael Jackson.

ANYWAY clothes are backwards and inside out. Beamer's collar is backwards and just to be thorough I tied the rope end of his leash to his collar instead of using the clip, so his leash is backwards too. He's pulling me away from the pond!

Ursula: Tell him to go find his sheep!

Shepherd: I have so instructed him! Hopefully there's not, like, the faerie equivalent of really good sheep here. Hey do you want me to grab you an apple

Ursula: No, they don’t come true from seed, but if you can cut me a decent slightly whippy twig with a few leaves, I might be able to root that sucker.

Shepherd: ...you want me to pause a collie on a mission while I test the whippiness of twigs??

I HEAR MOOING. I SEE PINE TREES.

Ursula: GO TOWARD THE MOOING

Shepherd: THERE'S THE OLD RUSTED OUT METAL THING! I'm back! On uh the opposite side of the property from the one I left from.

Also there's a goddamned chorus frog calling.

Ursula: Yeah, they do that.

Ursula: THANK GOD THE KUDZU IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PORTAL

...oh, and you’re back, that’s good too. Very pleased.

Shepherd: Anyway you don't have to feed the boys. Unless you want to?

Ursula: There is no situation where I will WANT to feed your giant-ass death bovines.

Also, what have we learned about following the white doe into the woods?

Shepherd: She knows where the really good apples are?

Also my boys are tiny!!

Ursula: ...I’m gonna go take a nap.

#Ursula Vernon #NeolithicSheep #Faerie

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

Text

Fucking Hormones {KiriBaku}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! This is pretty much pure crack born from this post I made that kind of blew up? Hopefully this is a good crossover to sate your KiriBaku needs!

Bakugo had a vivid imagination. Growing up as an only child and travelling with his parents kind of necessitated it. When he was a kid he had spent long hours both in his parents’ office and on planes letting his imagination run wild. It was why he had the design of his hero costume six years before he had ever stepped foot onto UA’s campus for the entrance exam and how he already knew what color the walls would be painted when he opened his own agency (Pantone 360 C, thank you very much).

As he grew older though, that particular attribute had evolved from creating future plans to creating fantasy lovers once he hit puberty. Nameless, faceless, and oftentimes sexless, he imagined hands on him and his hands tracing over curves and dips of muscle depending on the night; sometimes they fucked him, sometimes he fucked them. Either way it played out, there was no name to shout or eye color he could manifest to look into.

Until one night in his dorm room when he came so hard with his best friend’s name on his tongue that he thought he’d blackout. He’d had the image of red hair and red eyes and sharp teeth in his head as he concentrated on the idea that his hand wasn’t his own but rather that of the classmate next door.

The initial bliss from release didn’t last long, panic flooding his system as he realized that he was fantasizing about Kirishima. There had never been a specific person in his thoughts before and the fact that he enjoyed it more when he was thinking of that stupid grin on his face? He was fucked. Absolutely fucking fucked.

He grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped himself clean, yanking his sweats back up his legs and trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next because holy shit, this was not what he’d expected when he’d settled into his bed less than half an hour ago to jerk off. There was no doubt that Kirishima was his best friend and kind of the only person he could stand being around voluntarily for more than twenty minutes and that he was tan and muscled and—shit.

“This night can’t possibly get worse,” he murmured, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple.

Then his balcony doors flew open with a deafening crash, shuddering in the sudden wind that swept through his room under the moonlight. He jumped to his feet with his heart hammering in his chest, turning between the balcony and another loud bang from his bathroom door flying open and hitting the wall. Crackling lightening clouded his vision as thunder boomed.

He was under attack literally two minutes removed from cumming, what the fuck—

“Hello, my cheesy little rigatoni,” a sultry voice purred from the bathroom doorway.

“WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?” he shouted, sweatpants slung low on his hips and his palms igniting for the fight that was sure to come.

A feminine chuckle filled his ears as a furry creature emerged from his bathroom, long auburn hair seeming to grow fuller as it shifted in the breeze and pink painted lips smirking devilishly as she grew closer. Cloven hooves clicked on the hardwood floor and yet somehow the one thing that registered to him as disturbing was the ample bust covered in brown fur.

“I’m your hormone monstress, sweetheart. You can call me Connie because you and me?”—she gestured between them— “We’re gonna have a lot of fun together.”

His eye twitched. “I ain’t the fun type and I sure as hell don’t need some…some… whatever the fuck you are giving me shit about jerking off!”

“Now that’s no way to speak to the one who’s going to guide you through these changes.”

“Guide me though…? Newflash, bitch: I’ve gone through puberty. Just listen to my voice, fuck! Do I sound like my balls haven’t dropped yet?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and her blue eyes held indifference. “Honey it’s not my fault breaking into the Japanese market was hard and then caused a backlog. Even if assignments come in late I still gotta do ‘em.”

“Are you absolutely fucking kidding me? I DON’T NEED YOU!”

“If you want help getting in the pants of that boy who’s name you just shouted while shuckin’ corn then I think you do,” she tempted, watching his jaw set. “What’s his name, now? Kirishima?”

“Do not say his name,” he warned with a threatening point of his finger.

“C’mon now honey,” she said, hopping up to sit on his desk and crossing one leg over the other. “We’ve got to get planning because the five-finger shuffle isn’t gonna keep you happy for long when all you want is that boy’s hand down your pants.”

Bakugo stared at her for a long moment before looking down at his hands and then over his shoulder to his open balcony doors. Then, with a nod of conviction, he moved to close the balcony doors and slipped back under his blankets.

“I’ve gone fucking insane,” he murmured as he closed his eyes. He was having a weird as shit lucid dream after blacking out from that orgasm. All he had to do was fall asleep in this dream and he would wake up alone. And when he woke up this walking pair of furry tits would be gone and cum would be flaking off of his skin.

She was not gone.

At least, not permanently. It was like she just materialized next to him when his dick even so much as twitched when he thought something inappropriate about Kirishima.

The first time it happened was in training the day after she’d first appeared. They had all been rotating sparring partners, and when he was paired with Kirishima and had him pressed against the ground for the five count the redhead smiled excitedly.

“Man, you’re the best even without your quirk! Seriously so manly!”

Bakugo scoffed, waving him off to where his water bottle sat. “And don’t you ever forget it, Shitty Hair.”

As the laughter of his friend faded he felt a soft brush at the base of his neck, whirling around ready to fight whatever classmate decided to touch him. Instead, though, he came face to face with what he thought had been another creation of his imagination.

The monstress who’d introduced herself as Connie the night prior stood before him in a UA training jacket unzipped to show off her cleavage and her hair pulled high in a ponytail atop her head.

“What the fuck—”

“Oh sugar, you may think that hair’s shitty but I bet it’s good enough to pull when he’s between your thighs and those teeth? Mmm, just imagine ‘em givin’ a nice little nibble to your—"

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU HORNED BITCH!”

A jolt of panic ran through him when he realized that his classmates might not be able to see her. They were going to think he was absolutely off his rocker screaming at nothing. But when he surveyed the training grounds he saw that no one was paying him any mind.

“Believe it or not I’m not big on audiences,” she cooed into his ear.

And that’s how he spent his days going forward—paranoid of her popping out of thin air to tease him about Kirishima unknowingly making his heart jump into his throat or making his pants feel tighter. It didn’t happen every time (she would’ve never left his side then, honestly) but it happened enough that he legitimately contemplated labeling her as a villain. She made his life hell just like one with all her antics.

It had been an exam day in Cementoss’ literature class, their task to complete twelve multiple choice questions and two open-ended prompts. He’d read the material and taken plenty of notes to breeze through it with only one multiple choice that he wasn’t entirely sure of. So with nothing better to do he surveyed his classmates, spying Kaminari nervous and breathing heavily with Kirishima sat behind him concentrating on the paper in front of him harder than Bakugo had ever seen. He’d helped him study so it was nice to see he was putting all his effort into doing well.

But when his tongue darted out to wet his lips time slowed to a crawl and suddenly he was feeling very, very warm as that tongue stayed poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“He looks like the type who just knows how to use his tongue, virgin or not,” the monstress whispered from his left, and when he whipped around to face her he saw that she was perched on the windowsill wearing reading glasses and skimming over the text they were being quizzed on. “Do you think he’s the type to be excited and quick or slow and enjoy bein’ a lil tease?”

Bakugo snapped his pen in half.

Then there was the evening in the common room when the entire class had gathered for an ice cream party because sure, a bunch of teenagers definitely needed all that sugar on a Wednesday night. Though it wasn’t terrible to be sat amongst Kirishima, Kaminari, Jiro, Ashido, and Sero as they talked about strategic costume alterations and he savored the cinnamon ice cream in his bowl. It was fairly calm until he heard the grating sound of Kirishima’s straw trying to get every last bit of his milkshake, and he looked up to tell him to knock it off but froze when he saw the redhead’s cheeks slightly puffed out from the treat and a trail of vanilla dripping from his lips and down his chin.

Pressing the cold bowl in his hands against the crotch of his pants didn’t do as much as he hoped, especially when Kirishima swallowed loudly and wiped the drip from his face with two fingers, promptly sucking it off a moment later and declaring with a laugh that he may have brain freeze.

“Hmm,” he heard from beside him, turning to find Connie with her own strawberry cone in hand, “I think we both know that what you’ve got for him wouldn’t give him brain freeze. He looks good with a little something on his face, don’t you think?”

Fuck yes he did but he wasn’t about to tell her that, instead choosing to shovel a spoonful of his own dessert into his mouth. The knock of the metal spoon against his teeth hurt just enough to distract him for all of three seconds from the raging boner he was sporting.

There was also movie night in Sero’s room when halfway through the second movie Kirishima needed a phone charger and crossed in front of his spot in the hammock to bend down and get the spare cord from Sero’s desk drawer. His tshirt lifted slightly as he did to expose the curve of his lower back and the dimples set at his hips which were subtle but defined enough that Bakugo idly wondered…

“…if you could feel ‘em when you wrapped your legs around those delicious hips?”

He hated that she could read him like a fucking book. But he also hated that he had apparently now developed a fetish for best friend’s back.

Even during training when he was watching Kirishima work on his Unbreakable form against Shoji from the sidelines, the class’ task to critique their peers’ moves and assess them for potential counters that villains could utilize, he stared at the hard lines of his back. When he activated his quirk the hardening deepened the definition of his muscles as they raised up in craggy patterns that drew hills and valleys down the length of his spine.

His strength and resilience was hot as shit. Bakugo could train with him until his arms trembled with overuse from his quirk and not a single scorch mark would be left on the redhead, just another wide smile. Even close-range explosions couldn’t crack him, and he could think of situations other than close combat where that would be useful.

“Shame that you can’t scratch those shoulders up, ain’t it?” Connie murmured over his shoulder.

Not quite, he mused to himself. He had great control of himself when it came to his quirk, but where Kirishima was concerned was rapidly becoming a different story.

Say he did try to scratch those shoulders—if his quirk went off because he was in a stupidly dizzy haze due to Kirishima being that close to him, he wouldn’t hurt him. A far bigger blessing in his opinion. Besides, scratches weren’t the only way he could mark him up.

“What’s that smirk for baby?”

“Eat shit and die.”

Bakugo wasn’t a rule breaker. He lived his life on the straight and narrow in every aspect except apparently for his sexuality. Which is how he ended up breaking locker room rule number one: don’t check out your bros when changing.

At least he wasn’t obvious about it though, he justified. A peek from the corner of his eye here, a half-lidded glance there. With a quirk like his he didn’t get the chance to be subtle often but he was damn good at it.

No one around him knew that from his peripheral he was tracing the outline of Kirishima’s body in just his boxer briefs, savoring it for every second he could before his uniform pants slid up his legs.

A soft tickle on his arm let him know that something had noticed and he grimaced at the sound of her voice.

“Ohhh you picked a good one, my tasty little cherry bomb,” she cooed from her position against the lockers, bottom lip bitten between her teeth as she gazed longingly over his shoulder. “I could bounce an American quarter off of that tight little ass.”

“Shut your damn mouth!” he hissed as a furious blush covered his cheeks. Another glance at his friend showed that he was finishing the top button on his shirt before tucking it into his pants. He could even make the uniform look good, it was entirely unfair.

“Even with clothes on that boy has you feeling tingly,” she teased as tendrils of her hair wrapped around his waist. “But honey we gotta get in them pants and find out if those red drapes have a matching carpet!”

Before he could stop it his traitorous mouth revealed, “They don’t.”

She gasped and pulled him closer with her hair, his bare chest pressed against her furry one. “Start talking, motherfucker.”

“Fuck, it’s not a big deal!” he defended, squirming in the tight grip of her hair. “You’ve seen his hero costume—he’s shirtless! His happy trail is pitch black, okay? It’s… just something I noticed. And then that pink bitch told me he started dying and spiking it for high school, in middle school it was still black and he always wore it down.”

Connie narrowed her eyes but unwound her hair to let him finish dressing, crossing her arms as she surveyed the remaining boys. The locker room was almost completely empty save for himself, Kirishima, and Kaminari.

“He doesn’t like her, does he?”

Bakugo paused as he pulled on his blazer. “Raccoon Eyes? No? I mean, shit, I don’t know? I just know they went to the same middle school or whatever.”

She hummed. “Middle school friends, high school sweethearts, hero power couple, lil pink babies with some sharp teeth…”

“Shut. the hell. up,” he warned. “I’d know if he liked her, I’m his best friend. He’d tell me shit like that.”

“When?” she asked sassily. “You haven’t spent a lick of time alone with that boy since my cute ass got here. You’ve only hung out together in your little group so when would he tell you?”

The fact that she had made a damn good point had him wanting to blow up the entire building.

“Fuck you,” he spat, slamming his locker shut. He shoved his bag under his arm and stomped over to his friends, Kirishima spotting him over Kaminari’s shoulder and giving him a grin that should not have been as hot as it was.

“Hey, man!” he greeted, Kaminari turning and doing the same.

Bakugo grabbed the sleeve of his blazer and tugged him towards the door. “Walk with me.”

He stumbled as he followed, a clumsy wave to Kaminari thrown over his shoulder as he gained his bearings enough to walk with his friend once they reached the hallway. He’d since let go of his sleeve, hands shoved into his pockets and a flush to his cheeks.

“Everything good bro?” Kirishima asked with a furrowed brow.

“I gotta go to the shopping district tomorrow.”

“Oh, what do you have to get?”

“Got a bunch of shit I need to grab,” he huffed as they exited the building and started down the path to the dorms. “You said there was a new album you wanted to get, yeah?”

He grinned, surprised but delighted that he’d remembered him mentioning it. “Yeah, it’s a rerelease of my favorite album on vinyl and when I looked at it online it was so cool! Like the actual record is dark blue and then it has—”

“Just come with me tomorrow and show me then, Hair for Brains.”

“O-oh? I mean, yeah. Yeah!” he said excitedly. “What time were you thinking of going?”

“Train leaves at nine.”

The sharp smile was blinding and dammit he wanted to blast the butterflies in his stomach straight to hell where the little beasts belonged. Half of him was desperate to keep the smile on his lips while the other half wondered how hard would be too hard if Kirishima ever bit his neck as he worked a red and purple bruise into his skin, and just imagining it had him quickening his pace to get the fuck to his dorm room and take care of the rapidly growing problem just below his belt.

Kirishima kept up with his longer strides and didn’t leave his side as they got into the elevator to go to their floor. For the time being, Bakugo hated that their rooms were right next door to one another. He was bound to hear him moan his name some night (what if it was that night? or in the next five minutes?) and he was wholly unprepared to try and talk his way out of that particular situation.

“Did you see the group chat?”

Bakugo blinked. “What?”

“Sero’s dad dropped off like eight boxes of dango from Tokyo and he said he was gonna share with us after dinner! Do you want me to get you when it’s time for dinner and then we can find them to eat? Wait, do you think he’s gonna share with the entire class? Because I’d feel bad if we were the only ones—”

“Just knock on my door when you’re ready to eat,” he grunted as he pulled his keycard out of his pocket, strategically angling his hips away from his friend. “I’m starting my essay.”

“Oh yeah, sure!” he agreed as Bakugo entered his room. “I probably should too, I mean the English translations take me forever and that essay’s supposed to be like two thousand words—”

He closed the door on his rambling and dropped his bag to the floor. Like fuck was he starting that essay when he could feel his heartbeat in his underwear.

“You know…”

Shit.

“…even if it takes him a while to translate I’ve got some nice English phrases you can drop on your date tomorrow, baby.”

“It’s not a date, shitty bitch!” he hissed as he threw open his closet door to find comfier clothes to change into. The sound of her voice was an instant boner killer so the great idea of jerking off before dinner was shot down as he’d gone softer with each word that rolled off of her tongue.

“But it could be!” she said, excitedly throwing her hands above her head.

“No.”

“But you heard how excited he was! You two can sit nice and close on the train and if your jacket’s over your laps? Honey!”

“You need to fucking get over the idea that tomorrow is a date because I only did it to hang out and see if he actually does like Pinky. He fucking doesn’t but now I wanna hear him say it,” he grumbled as he slipped his tshirt over his head.

Connie sighed as she slumped down to sit on his bed. “Katsuki, can you just let yourself be honest? You want it to be a date. Since we met I’ve always pegged you as a guy who gets what he wants. Why are you so against this?”

Bakugo paused for several reasons. The first was the use of his given name because really, had she ever even said his name? Given or surname? Not that he could remember; it was always too-sweet pet names with her. Second was the tone which held no sass or sex appeal or teasing. And the last one was the fact that shit, he did go after what he wanted, didn’t he? Except…

“I’ve got him as a friend and a bastard like me can’t wish for much more than that. ‘S already more than I deserve at this point.”

“Baby, punishing yourself ain’t helping anybody.”

“I’m not punishing myself!” he snapped. “I’m stating a fact! I won’t ask for more when it isn’t something that can happen!”

“You mean you can’t be brave enough to take a chance.”

His shoulders tensed and anger sparked both from his palms and throughout his entire being. Him? Not brave? HIM? Katsuki FUCKING Bakugo? Future Number One Pro Hero of Japan?

“Shitty woman I’m braver than half of the extras in this school—in this country!—and don’t you ever fucking question that again! I’ll fucking show you who’s not brave! Stupid fucking bitch with your goddamn furry ass tits coming into my room and calling me a fucking coward..!”

He continued his angry rambling as he stomped to his door and yanked it open as hard as he could.

Turning away from Bakugo, Kirishima entered his room and tossed his blazer aside, one hand raking through the gelled spikes of his hair. His smile dropped; he was ready to lay in his bed with Fleetwood Mac on shuffle and wallow like the sad, gay disaster in love with his best friend that he was.

“Hey there, big boy.”

He nearly jumped out of his hardened skin at the smooth greeting from the monster posed atop his sheets, one leg kicked up behind him with a hoof pointing to the ceiling and his head lazily held by a propped-up arm.

“Maury you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, listen, how’d everything go with your blonde boom stick? Did we see his boom stick yet? Tell me I didn’t miss it because I’ve gotta know if that kid’s pubes are as spiky as his hair.”

He frowned as he changed from his uniform into his lounge clothes. “You’re gross, dude. But anyway, Bakugo doesn’t like me like that. You gotta stop pushing it.”

“Kirishima, c’mon, you gotta have a little faith!”

“Faith in what? That he asked me to go to the shopping district with him tomorrow as a date? That’s not likely, man.”

The monster rolled his eyes as he stood up and approached him, arms crossed in front of his chest and an unimpressed look on his impish face. He hadn’t particularly wanted to pull this card but goddammit this kid had to get a fucking grip.

“Super unmanly of you not to act on your feelings, Red,” he goaded. “I thought no regrets meant you’d man up and shoot your shot with that walking stick of dynamite but I guess you’re not as strong in those beliefs as I thought.”

“C’mon man, that’s not fair!” Kirishima said with a pout.

He threw his hands up. “Am I wrong though? One day you’re gonna regret not saying anything and be upset when you realize that you two coulda been together.”

The redhead bit his lip. “I can’t just ruin our friendship like that.”

“Kid, listen. Do you think that Crimson guy you like would keep his feelings for someone a secret like this? Or would he sack up and figure out if those feelings are returned? I’m not sayin’ I’m great at the whole romance part of all this but damn, you gotta try!”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t or won’t? Trying doesn’t mean professing your love straight away! Just go ask him something about tomorrow like why he asked just you and not all your friends. Get a feel for it before you get a feel of him!”

Kirishima bit his lip. “I guess… I guess I could ask why the rest of our friends weren’t invited. Maybe say that Kaminari texted me…”

His voice trailed off as he turned to his door, brows furrowing as he considered the idea of going next door to Bakugo’s room. Without knowing or meaning to his feet carried him across the room and only once he had stepped out into the hallway did he realize what had happened, his lips parting in surprise and then even further when Bakugo’s door flung open and the blonde stepped out of his room. His face was flushed and his teeth were bared but when he realized Kirishima was in the hallway too the snarl dropped into a neutral frown.

They stared at one another for a long moment before Kirishima slowly approached his best friend. “Hey. I was just coming to see you.”

“Yeah? You ready for dinner now?”

“No,” he said. “I wanted to uh…”

He cocked an eyebrow at his friend, not used to the hesitation. It was… fuck, it was cute.

“Bakugo, tomorrow—”

“Is a date,” the blonde finished with conviction. He hoped the anxiety curled in his gut wasn’t visible on his face because shit, he may have just made the biggest mistake of his damn life if this went sideways.

Kirishima’s jaw dropped. “A-A date? We’re going on a date?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes and reached out to fist his hands in the horrendous orange shirt and yank him close, his body warming at the blush that rose on the redhead��s cheeks.

“We’re going on a fucking date,” he said before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. The muffled noise of surprise quickly turned into kissing him back and holy fucking shit he was kissing Kirishima.

Behind them stood the two hormone monsters, smirks across both their faces at one more first kiss in the books. Maury held his hand out for a low five and without even looking Connie batted his hand away and gave a slap to his ass.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Crackfics aren’t my specialty and I know there were some OOC moments but I hope this at least made y’all laugh lmao

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 64

Warnings: mentions of depression, PTSD

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

He wakes up gasping for air; body covered in a sheen of cold sweat and his legs frantically kicking at the blankets covering them. The weight against his limbs seeming unbearable; thin, smooth cotton weighing him down and trapping him where he lay. Chest both heaving AND aching; a mixture of sheer terror and utter panic squeezing and tightening his lungs as he struggles to draw in a single breath. Brain stuck between the horrors of the nightmare he’d just endured and trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. Fully aware that he SHOULD know where he is, yet finds it impossible to piece all together. An after effect of the handful of pain meds he’d swallowed dry before settling down to sleep; the strength of them further muddling an already battered and tortured mind. It’s gotten worse since the Ketamime. Increased instances of short term memory problems and finding himself more easily confused and having trouble with remembering even the simplest of words during a normal conversation. And it frustrates him. Makes him feel broken and utterly useless.

It also makes the rage inside of him grow. An anger so raw and so profound that he can barely rein it in; worried that he’ll snap and take it out on the people who don’t deserve it. And there’s fear; bitter and legitimate. Concerned that somehow the ketamine has caused permanent issues; aggravating his already brittle and fragile brain and leaving him with the worry that he’ll never get back to where he was before all of this ever happened. The neurologist had long ago warned that it could happen; the damage done from lack of oxygen when he’d coded twice in the OR either worsening or becoming progressive. And he’s operated under a guise of slight fear that his frustration surrounding his mental issues and the confusion he often experiences will only grow and eat away at him from the inside out; turning him into someone he no longer recognizes. That he can no longer stand.

The nightmares started twenty four hours ago.Vivid and horrifying. Temporarily parlazyed by drugs yet hands and feet still restrained by zip ties; a captor’s hand on his throat and another tightly gripping his hair as he’s forced to watch some of Mahajan’s men slowly torture and brutalize his wife and children. Mocking his rage, disgust, and grief; spitting in his face and digging their fingers into his eyes to force them open whenever he tries to close them. Unable to move yet desperate to save his family; resorting to sobbing and begging for mercy. Pleading with them to just leave Esme and the kids alone; that they’re innocent and Mahajan could do whatever he wants to him. But they only laugh at him, keeping him firmly in place as they continue their brutality and make him listen to the way his family screams and cries out for them to help them. And it isn’t until one of the captors puts a gun to Esme’s head and pulls the trigger that he snaps awake; unable to move or speak in the same way he’d been immobilized and silenced three days before.

It’s the inability to move or speak that brings on the panic. His heart pounding in his chest and his lungs impossibly tight and burning as they try to suck in air; violently shivering, his body covered head to toe in a cold sweat. And when the feeling of being paralysed subsides, his body and mind choose to fight; kicking and thrashing and writhing while tears spill down his cheeks. Unable to fully graph what is going on around him; hearing the thundering of his heart in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears both overwhelming and deafening. And he’s vaguely aware of her voice trying to push its way through all the madness; his name gentle and concerned at first, then more stern and forceful. He can feel her hands tightly gripping his forearms and then his shoulders. Looking right at her yet not actually seeing her. Focused instead on those horrible images still taking up residence in his brain.

“Tyler!” Her hands on his face, nails digging into his cheeks. “Look at me! It’s over. Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore. You’re here. You’re right here. Look at me!” She forces his face towards her when he attempts to look away. “Everything’s fine. Whatever it was, it’s gone. It’s okay. I’m here and you’re here and everything’s fine now.”

It finally begins to dissipate; panic subsiding and his lungs releasing and his heartbeat returning to normal. Breath still coming out in ragged pants and his legs -previously drawn impossibly straight and tight= relaxing and his fists letting go of their grip on the fitted sheet. He closes his eyes; feeling her hands on his face and the way her knuckles stroke his beard and her fingertips brush away his tears and her thumbs swipe across his lips. And when he opens them he can actually see her; those terrifying and gruesome images from the nightmare disappearing. Her face mere inches from his; dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, tears in her eyes and the moonlight bathing her skin in a soft, silvery light.

“It’s okay now,” Esme says. “Everything’s fine. You’re not there anymore. Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore.”

“Fuck…” he manages through ragged breath. “...what the hell?”

“It was a panic attack. Or at least I think it was. One of those dissociative types. You used to get them all the time right after Dhaka. You haven’t had one in a long while. A few years at least.”

He sighs heavily -and shakily- and drops his chin to his chest. Easily relaxing at the touch of her hands; soft and soothing against his face and the side of his neck. Fingertips grazing his skin and gently tracing each tattoo and scar and bulging, strained muscle.

“It’s alright,”her voice is gentler than he’s ever remembered hearing it, and one of her hands slips around to the back of his head, the other rubbing his shoulder. “YOU’RE alright. Bad dream?”

He nods.

“You want to tell me about it, or…?”

“I can’t. Not this one. I can’t tell you about this one.”

“Worse than the ones you were having at home?”

“Way worse.”

“About me and the kids?”

“Don’t...please…don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” She gives a reassuring smile, running her nails along the back of his neck and up into his hair. “Baby, you’re sweating like crazy. You’re drenched. That must have been a really bad one.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

“I’m not asking you to talk about it.” The tone of her voice never changes; soft and low and comforting. And she doesn’t become defensive or irritable when he snaps at her. “Look at me...Tyler...look at me.”

He raises his head from his chest. Afraid of what he might find in her eyes. Annoyance. Frustration. Maybe even disappointment. Or even worse, pity. But none of that is there. He finds nothing but genuine concern and a tenderness and love that -even after almost seven years- he’s not sure he deserves. And neither of them speak as her eyes slowly take in every inch of his face and her fingertips brush across his eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose. Then over the scar on his forehead and near his left eye.

“It’s okay.” Her voice is just shy of a whisper, and he closes his eyes once more when that impossibly soft touch travels down his jaw. “...everything’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m more about you than my sleep. Are you okay now?”

“Not really,” Tyler admits.

“Do you at least feel a little bit better?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“It’ll be alright. Whatever it was about, it wasn’t real. None of it actually happened. Wherever you were in that dream, you’re not there anymore. Do you need some anxiety meds or pain ones or a drink of water or…?”

“I can take care of myself.” His response is more irritable than he’d intended it to be, and now he sees the annoyance creep into her eyes and face. “I’m not a child. I don’t need you babying me.”

“Let me love you,” Esme implores. “Let me take care of you. You’ve done it for me.”

“I’m supposed to. I’m the guy.”

“Oh for fuck sake. Shut up, Tyler. You know how I hate when you say shit like that.”

With his face resting in her hands once again, she presses a kiss to his forehead. And his eyes flicker open as she climbs off the bed; feeling that slight dip in the mattress and then watching her as she heads for the ensuite bathroom. He feels pathetic; a watered down, weakened version of his former self that needs someone looking after him. His body and brain so messed up that he can barely function as a self sufficient adult. When the fuck did that happen? When did he become so goddamn soft that he needs someone...especially a woman...to take care of him? It makes him angry. Frustrated. That seven years ago some fucking teenager trying to impress a drug lord took so much away from him. His confidence. His pride. His ego. And that he’s been struggling ever since to hold onto the remaining shreds of those traits.

“What?” Esme inquires as she returns from the bathroom, holding a bottle of meds and a glass of water in one hand and a damp face cloth in the other. She looks so goddamn cute; her hair messy and wild from sleep, clad in one of his t-shirts falling well past her knees and hiding the sleep shorts she wears underneath. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you.” His response is simple. But heartfelt. And true.

“I know,” she says with a smile, then kneels in front of him in the middle of the bed. “And I love you. Here…” she hands him the bottle of meds and the water, then places the cloth against the back of his neck. It’s cool to the touch, and she holds it there for several seconds before softly patting it against his clammy skin. Over the nape of his neck and along his hairline line before moving to his forehead and temples.

“Why do you do this?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Take care of me like this.”

She moves the cloth to the left side of his neck. “Would you rather I didn’t? Would I rather be the type of wife that doesn’t give a shit about you? That doesn’t give a fuck when you’re struggling?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know you hate it. I know you think I’m babying you. That you somehow think it makes you less of a man. And I won’t get into how that’s the biggest bunch of horseshit I’ve ever heard. I do it because I love you. Because I want to take care of you. Because I worry about you. And because you’re my husband and the father of my children and my best friend and I hate that you’re going through this.”

“I’ve been going through it for about seven years. And you’re still here. Doing this.”

“I’m here because I want to be. Because my life would totally suck without you in it. Because we have a lot more really good times than we have really bad times. And because regardless of what you think, you deserve someone that loves you wants to take care of you.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. And besides, you’d do it for me. You HAVE done it for me. More times than you even realize. You’re not weak, Tyler. Being human doesn’t make you weak. You’re not a goddamn cyborg or some shit like that.”

“I just hate it. Being like this. It’s so fucked up, babe. My brain. I hate it and I hate living like this.”

“You’re not like anything. You have issues. Lots of people have issues. Are they weak? Do you see them that way? How about me? I have mental health problems. Am I weak?”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You stick around. Through all of this bullshit. All of MY bullshit.”

“I stick around because my life is better with you in it. Because I love you and you make me smile and you make me laugh and you look at me like I’m the most beautiful, incredible woman on earth. And because we have a good life. A GREAT life. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes when this kind of stuff happens.”

He nods in agreement, eyes closing when he feels the press of the cool cloth against his throat; soft, feathery touches over the gathering of scars and tattoos and painful to the touch bruises. Before her, he’d never experience this; a voice so gentle, a touch so tender, eyes so loving. No one has ever looked at him the way she does. Not even having to touch him or even speak, yet so effectively letting him know exactly how she feels. It’s overwhelming. To be loved THAT much. And even now...after almost seven years and five kids...he’s embarrassed by the tears that well in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” Esme continues, running the cloth down the bridge of his nose, then along one side of his jaw, followed by the other. “That this is happening. The things going on in your brain. It’s not like you can stop it. It’s not like you can help it.”

“I haven’t been there in a long time. This place. This dark, hopeless fucking place. And I don’t know if I’m going to make it out. It’s dragging me down and it won’t let me go. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t talk like that, okay? Because that’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. We’ve got you through this before. We’ve got you out of that dark place. And we’ll get you out of there again.”

The tears come now. Slipping easily down his cheeks as she cradles his face in her hands; lips placing impossibly soft kisses across his brow and over his eyes; along each side of his jaw and then onto his lips. And her forehead comes to rest against his, hands moving to the back of his neck and then into his hair.

*****

“It’s going to be okay.” she whispers. “You’ll be okay.”

“I fucking hope so. Because right now? I just want to put a bullet in my fucking brain.”

“That’s what you THINK you want to do. But I know you don’t. Because the last thing you want to do is leave those kids. I know that’s one of your worst fears; the kids growing up without you and forgetting about you. And I also know that you love those kids more than you love yourself. That you’re an amazing dad and you don’t take a single second with them for granted. You were given a second chance. A new life. And you don’t want to lose that.”

“They’d be better off. Without me. Without the bullshit that comes with me. All this fucking bullshit. The people I’ve pissed off. Guys like Mahajan who want me dead and will stop at nothing to make that happen. Who will hurt them to get to me. They don’t deserve that, and if I wasn’t around…”

“No. Stop,” Esme orders. “Don’t go there. Don’t let your brain go there. That’s a bad place to go into, Tyler. Don’t even think about it . Don’t open that door. Because once you do and go in there…”

“Can’t you fucking see who I am? Why are you blind to it? I’m a fucking mercenary. I’m a shit person. I kill people. For money.”

“You HELP people. For money. And sometimes, yes, you have to kill. And it sucks and it’s hard and you always feel like shit after you do it. But you do it because you have to. Not because you WANT to. Not because you enjoy it. Would you rather it be you? Would they rather they kill you first? Or is that what you’re hoping? That someone will. So you don’t have to do it. You’re hoping that someone else does it for you. Is that where you are right now? Is that you’re head space?”

“I don’t want you to spend your life looking over your shoulder. Worrying about who’s going to come after you. Who’s coming to come after the kids. It doesn’t matter how many people I wipe off that list. It doesn’t matter if Anil takes out Mahajan. How many more do you think are out there? People that would love to get a hold of me and teach me a lesson? How many toes do you think I’ve stepped on? How many people do you think I’ve pissed off? You’re never going to be away from that. You’re always going to be a target. And so are those kids.”

“And I knew all of that going into this. I knew who you were and I knew all about your past and what you did for a living. It was always right out there. I was in it too, remember? It’s how we met. Right off the hop I knew everything I needed to know about you. Just like you knew everything about me. And if I didn’t think I could handle it...handle YOU...I never would have stuck around in Australia after Dhaka. I would have left. Pregnant or not. If I didn’t think I could deal, I would have been gone and you never would have heard from me again. I would have made sure you never would have been able to track me down. You’re not the only one with a past, Tyler. You’re not the only one who has pissed people off and put yourself on umpteen shit lists. The people I’ve lied to? The people whose lives I wormed my way into and who trusted me only to have me fuck everything up and bring in guys like you? Those kinds of people make Mahajan look innocent. So don’t sit here and act like you’re the only one who’s left a shit ton of burnt bridges behind you.”

“You’re not the one with blood on your hands.”

“The hell I’m not!” she argues, body and voice shaking with anger, tears threatening. “Who tracked down those guys in Dhaka? That had Ovi at that apartment. Who got people to trust her enough to tell her where Ovi was? It was me. I found out where he was and I was the one who sent you there. So yeah, I do have blood on my hands. Saju is dead because of me. Because he had to get me out of that fucking shit hole. And you? What happened to you? That sniper, Farhad, the whole fucking mess? That’s on me too. And for seven years you’ve done nothing but blame yourself for decisions you made in Dhaka. Decisions you made for me so you could get me out of there. So YOUR blood is on my hands too.”

He blinks at the vehemence in her voice.

“You think you’re the only one with guilt? With regret? That you’re the only one who hates themselves for the way things went there? Every day for seven years I’ve felt like a shit fucking person for what happened. To Saju, to you. Every time I would see that scar on your neck or you’d talk about what happened or you’d second guess the choices you made, all I would think about is how much I hate for myself before being the one that led you to the goddamn bridge.”

“You weren’t. It was the only way out of there. We had no other choice but to go there. None of that was on you. None of it.”

“IF I hadn't been there...in Dhaka...you wouldn’t have to make the choices you did. You could have gotten yourself out of there. None of what happened on that bridge would have gone down. You don’t think I live with that? That I haven’t been living with? You think I don’t feel guilt or regret? That I don’t think it’s my fault that all this happened to you. That I don’t think ‘if only I’d left. If only I’d pushed him away. If only I didn’t let things happen between us’. You’re not the only one who thinks those things, Tyler. Every time something goes wrong...every time some asshole comes after you...every time you get dragged back into this bullshit...I think about it. How what happened to you on that bridge was my fault.”

“But it wasn’t,” he insists. “None of that was your fault.”

“You always talk about how you could have saved me from this life by pushing me away, by forcing me to leave, by not letting things happen between us in Dhaka. You think you’re the only one who thinks shit like that? That I haven’t thought about it? That I haven’t thought ‘if only I’d made him leave, he wouldn’t be going through all this crap trying to keep me safe’. It’s all I’ve been thinking since all this shit with Mahajan started. That I’ve I never let things happen or I’d pushed you away or if I hadn’t stayed in Australia…”

“If you hadn’t stayed, you’d be out there with my kid. My daughter.”

“But she’d be safe , right? You seem to think she’d be better off without you. That her life would be better if you weren’t in it. Isn’t that what you said five minutes ago? That if you weren’t around, her life would be better. Did you not say that?”

Tyler nods. “Yeah...I did.”

“You wouldn’t have known about her. You wouldn’t have known her name, what she looked like. Nothing. And that’s okay with you?”

“No. That’s not okay.”

“Had I walked away, you never would have known her. And she’s beautiful and she’s amazing and she’s so fucking smart and she’s so much like you. And she deserves having you in her life. Whether you want to be in it or not.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “Of course I want to be in. She’s my daughter. My little girl.”

“Then why would you ever…ever...say that she’d be better off without you. Because that is so far from the truth. She loves you. She thinks the sun shines out of your ass, for fuck sakes. She adores you and worships the ground you walk on and yet you turn around and you’d take yourself out of her life?”

“I just want to protect her. All of them. You.”

“And you think not being around would do that? Saju is dead and Mahajan still went after his family. Neysa and Aarav are in hiding because of him. What makes you think they wouldn’t come after me and the kids? You really think they’d leave us alone? You being gone wouldn’t stop him, Tyler. He’d come after us regardless. And we wouldn’t stand a chance. The only thing you being gone would do is kill all of us. Because without you, there’s no one to stop him.”

“And you think I can? Stop him? Look at me.”

“I don’t need to look at you. I don’t…”

He takes her chin in his hand, in the curve between his thumb and forefinger, and turns her head towards him. “Look at me. Take a good look at me. Look what they did. What one guy was able to do. I won’t be able to stop them.”

“You’re not going to be like this forever. A week at the most, right? And then you’ll go back to being you. You don’t let anything stop you. I saw you on that bridge. After that sniper got you. You were already in rough shape…horrible shape...way worse than you are now…and you still got up and fought back. Nothing stops you. Especially not when it’s about your kids.”

He sighs, then lays his forehead against hers.

“The only thing that you being gone would do, is kill me,” she says, eyes closed as the tears trickle down her cheeks. “Inside. Because I don’t want to do this without you. This life. We have five kids. We have a whole life ahead of us. We have a lot of years to go still. We have kids to put into college and to see graduate and get married and have their own children. We’ll have grandkids to spoil. And I don’t want to do all that without you. It’s not that I can’t; I know I can. I just don’t want to.”

“Baby…” he holds her face in both hands and presses a kiss to her brow. “...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that shit. It’s just all too much. Mahajan, his people, the other night, the fucking nightmares. It’s weighing me down and it’s eating me alive and I hate what it’s doing to me. And I’m scared. Because if anything happens to you or my kids…”

“It won’t. Not if you’re here. And I just don’t mean, here, here. I mean HERE. On this earth. As long you’re here, fighting for us? Nothing can go wrong. And I need you fighting us. Not just me and the kids. But US.”

“I don’t know how much fight I have left in me, Esme. I’m pretty fucked up. The other night? What the guy managed to do? That never should have happened. If I was half the guy I was seven years ago….”

“You’re better than you were seven years ago, Tyler. In every way. One bad night doesn't erase who you are and what you know and the things you’re capable of. And I don’t know how I can drill that into you. I don’t know to make you see yourself the way I see you. How your KIDS see you.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You mean with the sun shining out of my ass?”

“Yeah,” she manages a small laugh. “Just like that. Or through Addie’s eyes; shitting rainbows and glitter.”

“The day I shit rainbows and glitter IS the day I put a bullet in my head.”

“You have five kids that love you so much. Five beautiful, amazing kids. That YOU helped make. And they’re worth sticking around for, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are, baby. I didn’t really mean what I said. I’m frustrated and I’m in pain and I just want this shit to be over with. I just wanna go home.”

“I miss home,” she laments. “More than I thought it would. I miss it just being us and the kids. I miss the beach and sitting out there at night with you. I miss us. The us we were BEFORE all of this. When things were calm and we were happy and didn’t have to worry like this. I want that back. I want US back.”

“So do I, Esme. You have no idea how bad I want that.”

“It hurt,” she says, and nestles her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder, both arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “Hearing you say what you did. That your kids would be better off without you. Because that’s so far from the truth. It would destroy them if something happened to you. And I would never forgive you if it was by your own hand. If you purposefully destroyed our children.”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. I just said it. It’s been a shit few days and I’m pissed off and I’m in pain and I feel like a weak, useless fuck. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He runs a hand over her hair and presses a kiss to her temple. “Last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

“I just need you to hang in there. In a few days, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll feel so much better and you’ll be ready to get back out there. You just need some time; to heal. You’re no good to anyone like this and you’re especially not good for yourself and you’ll put yourself in danger. You just need to spend a few days NOT worrying about the job. Just hanging out with me and the kids and letting everyone else figure shit out. It will be nice, don’t you think? Time with me and the kids?”

“Of course it will.”

“And I know you won’t stop thinking about it entirely. Because the threat is still out there. But you’ll get some time with your family. And it would do the kids a world of good having you here and I know it will do the same for you.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“I don’t ever want to hear that kind of talk from you again. Saying we’d better off without you. Because that is so far from the truth. You have no idea how loved you actually are. I’d give anything to take this all away. So your brain wouldn't be the way it is. I’d fix it in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would. And I AM sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That was pretty fucking stupid; what I said.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “It was. But I know you’re hurting, Tyler. And not just physically. We should go on a trip; when all this is done. Just the two of us. Just get away for a week or two. No kids. Just adult time.”

“That could be our making number six time,” he muses.

“It could be. If number six wasn’t already on the way.”

His body freezes against hers. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you. Not until I had a doctor confirm it. But I was having all that PMS and it would go away and come back, go away, come back. Then I thought maybe I was just really stressed. Which I am. My stress level is the freaking roof. So when I started feeling sick and dizzy, I just thought that’s what it was. I mean, Addie’s only two and a half months and that would be really, really soon. But then again Millie was only two months when I got pregnant with the twins and…”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“I let on things were normal. That nothing was going on. Because home tests aren’t always accurate. We had HOW many negative tests with Declan? So I thought I’d just keep it quiet and go along with it whenever you talk about having another one. That I’d just wait until we got home and I’d go see the doctor. And I also figured you didn’t need anything else on your plate right now, so…”

“You’re not joking, are you.”

Esme shakes her head.. “I’m sorry. I should have told you before. But there’s never really been a good time to tell you. So I just kept it to myself and…”

“Baby…” his hands find her shoulders, and he pulls back to look at her. “...are you fucking serious right now?”

She nods.

“Things haven’t been reversed yet. How did it…?”

“Doctor mistake? You never went back to check if things were working. Or not working. Or whatever. You were supposed to go back but Addie came early so you never did. So we didn’t find out for sure if you were shooting blanks or not, so…”

“I just assumed I was. I didn’t have reason to think the doctor fucked up.”

Tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “You don’t really think that, do you? That this is a fuck up? I mean, you wanted another one, right?”

“I don’t mean a fuck up in that way. I mean the doctor fucked up. Hasn’t he done one of these before? How hard could it be? You go in and shit or whatever. How do you screw that up?”

“This is kind of your fault too. I notice you didn’t tell me that we should have been using protection for a few months. The doctor must have told you that. He had to have told you that.”

“I mean, he might have. I don’t remember for sure. I guess he could have said something and I just forgot.”

“Well…” she shrugs. “...surprise. You’re going to be a dad. Again.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t know how reliable the tests are here. I’m assuming they’re fine and it was two pink lines and we’re pretty much experts on what two pink lines mean. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. Like you’re getting ready to flip your shit. I know it’s not the right time. But it is what it is. We’re having a baby.”

“Jesus Christ…” Tyler breathes, then pulls her into his arms. One hand on the small of her back, the other buried in her hair. “...are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about this. About ANYTHING. We have this uncanny ability of making babies at the worst possible time. And if you don’t want it and you think we can’t handle it, then…”

“We can handle it. We’ve handled five before this. Millie didn’t come exactly at the right time either and we made that work. We found out about Addie in Ireland and that was pretty fucked up too.”

“You see why I need you around? THIS is why I need you. My kids need their dad. This baby needs you. I don’t want to do this without you, Tyler. We’re in this together. The two of us.”

“Well, actually, it’s three of us now, but…”

“Tell me this is going to be okay. That WE’RE going to be okay. That this baby will be okay. I need to hear you say it.”

He gives a small, reassuring smile. “The baby’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

It’s the first time arriving in Mumbai that he’s been that confident. About anything.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #extraction 2020 #chris hemsworth character #best part of me

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franklyshipping · 4 years

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Day 21 ~ Christmas 2019 Ego Fanfics

WOOOO DAY 21 PEOPLE LET'S ROLL ON WITH THE CUTENESS UP IN HERE LET'S DO IT!

Following on from nurturing and encouraging your child’s hobbies as a parent, I think that as a parent you hope that you can be the best possible inspiration and good example for your child to follow. In doctor Schneeplestein’s case, his 9 year old Sofia felt so inspired by her papa that she insisted upon giving anyone she spent time with a medical check-up. Of course, Schneeple made sure to provide her with only the best medical apparatus and an oversized coat so she could really get into her role. One by one, every ego had been seen by her…except one. He’d hoped he’d have been forgotten, but Madpat underestimated her tenacity…and now found himself lying on the floor of one of the living rooms.

‘Hmmmm….veeery interesting….’

Mad repressed a snort as he watched the little girl tap her chin as she looked at him in a very analytical fashion, sat cross-legged next to him as she observed her patient. He was the last of her papa’s friends she needed to give a check-up to….but there is a very important thing that must be remembered; Sofia had Schneeple for a father, and his check-ups were very, very notorious. Schneeple always tickled each and every patient, and of course, Sofia was very much intending on following in her father’s footsteps….exactly.

‘How bad am I doc?’

Mad asked with a light smile, playing along with her because honestly she was so adorable with how she acted, picking up her father’s mannerisms and voice and having so much fun with it. At his question, she let out a soft sigh and patted the top of his head, looking down at him with an exaggerated frown.

‘I’m sorry Mr Mad, but you seem to have some problems with your touch sense reactions, but worry not! I can fix this! Please raise your arms and close your eyes, I must test that your touch sense isn’t broken!’

Mad snickered softly, before raising his arms and shutting his eyes as he spoke.

‘I trust your judgement doc.’

Since the kid had a stethoscope and some rolls of gauze, Mad was mainly expecting to be wrapped up and given little pats of healing….what he wasn’t expecting however, was for ten little fingers to start rubbing circles into his rib-cage. He jolted, yelping as his voice went a tad higher than normal.

‘H-Hehey hey h-hahahang ohon aha sehec!’

Mad’s eyes snapped open as he went to bring his arms down….but he froze when he looked up to see the little doctor looking down at him very, very sternly.

‘If you’re not a good patient then I will get my papa to hold you down!’

Mad gulped, his face going pink. He’d been pinned and tickled by the good doctor before, and the thought of a father-daughter tickle team up was too terrifying to even fathom….so he lifted his trembling arms above his head. His previously cool voice was filled with stammers as he nervously closed his eyes, hoping to all heck that Sofia hadn’t inherited her father’s tickling skills.

‘A-Ahalrihight ahalright….j-juhust be quihick…’

Sofia’s innocent face morphed into one of mischief as she grinned, continuing to tickle his ribcage….because you bet that Schneeple had taught her all the ways of tickling.

‘I’ll try, but I have to be very, very thorough, I am a doctor after all!’

Mad spluttered as he giggled, arching his back as he got even more embarrassed….she sounded so much like Schneeple, so nonchalantly teasy. Dammit, he couldn’t believe he was letting himself become flustered because of a kid! He was the phone guy from FNAF darnit!

‘Ohohohoho jeheheez….’

‘Something wrong Mr Mad? It doesn’t hurt does it?’

Mad hurriedly shook his head. He never could admit it.

‘N-Nohohoho u-uh….i-ihihit’s fihihihine….’

Sofia silently giggled to herself, and decided to knead Mad’s ribcage, focusing on rubbing the gaps in-between his ribs very evilly like her dad had taught her. One thing she remembered was that you always had to dig deep for the best tickle spots, and you always had to talk to your tickle patient so that they’d have to reply and let out their cute reactions.

‘Are you sure? If it doesn’t hurt then imma just keep going….’

Mad let out a growly whine under his breath as he tried to stay in control of his (now very rampant) giggles, but now his whole body was starting to tremble, not just his arms.

‘J-Juhuhuhust k-keheep gohoing soho wehe cahahan g-gehet thihis dohohone!’

Sofia grinned, her green eyes twinkling down at him.

‘Are you super sure-?’

‘Yehehehehes!’

Mad exclaimed amidst a torrent of titters, which made Sofia smirk….and decide to dig into another potential tickle spot. Namely, Mad’s stomach.

‘Okey dokey!’

Mad’s eyes flew open as his arms came down to his chest, his whole body shaking as he suddenly howled with wild mirth; it took him everything not to push her fingers away, his stomach was so ticklish that even mere swipes would make him squeal. This digging in was torture.

‘NONONONOHOHOHOHO!!’

Sofia raised her eyebrow down at him, continuing to squeeze his tummy as she spoke.

‘No? No what? If you need to tell me something Mr Mad then I need more words than that please.’

Mad thrashed from side to side as he laughed heartily, with such a big grin on his bedraggled face that you might have even mistaken him for Matpat. Yes, he really did look that insanely happy.

‘NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!!’

He cried, which made his resident physician don a serious expression as she then scribbled into the light pudge that rested at his lower belly.

‘Now, now Mr Mad, your tummy is a super duper important place, I can’t not check it over!’

Mad hid his face in his hands, wailing into them as he cursed himself for letting himself be subjected to this; he was definitely going too soft. He kicked out reflexively, arching his back as little shrieks jumped out amidst his laughter. I think it was safe to say that Mad’s nerves were, so far, extra-ordinarily not impaired.

‘IHIHI CAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IHIT!!’

Sofia kept on tickling as she smiled. She could understand why her papa always tickled his patients, it was so nice hearing someone else laugh so much! She decided that she definitely wanted to be a doctor if it meant she could make people this happy. She exhibited a playful shrug down at her patient, before softly cooing.

‘Sorry Mr Mad, but you have to.’

Mad’s lower tummy was the victi-AHEM, portion of the patient under great medicinal scrutiny for the next few minutes, it was subject to prods, scratches, scribbles, and light kneading to make sure the nerve structure was fully functional. Soon though, Mad felt the tickling fingers move away, and he panted and peeked through his fingers up at Sofia.

‘I-Ihis ihit d-dohone?’

His voice was shaky and filled with residual mirth, and Mad felt even more chills and tingles run through him when Sofia grinned down at him and let out a playful hum.

‘Almost. Your tummy and ribs seem okay….but somewhere where your touch sense might be broken is your knees, so I’m gonna have to test them too.’

Mad’s eyes widened. Oh no….he now realised too late that Schneeple must have told her everybody’s tickle spots. Oh shit. As Sofia’s teasingly wiggling fingers started to inch towards his knees, Mad suddenly became a mess of stammers.

‘N-Noho nononono wahait please j-just, g-gihive me a sehecond!’

Sofia cocked her head down at him, before pausing her hands….for precisely one second. Then they were upon him. Pinching both his kneecaps as their owner grinned cheekily, all facades down as she giggled happily. She’d had so much fun tickling all her uncles and her papa’s friends, and Mad was no exception.

‘How was that second?’

Mad was going absolutely ballistic with shrieks of ticklish mirth. He’d tried to roll over so he could bury his face in the floor, banging his fists against the carpet as he let out desperate cries of laughter, tears building in his eyes as ticklish jolts accosted his poor form.

‘IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA GEHEHET YOHOU BAHAHACK!!!’

Mad yelled out, filled with flustered humiliation as he tried to cling onto some form of his dignity, but his words merely made Sofia giggle fondly. She continued to eagerly pinch and rub his kneecaps with her fingertips as she replied playfully.

‘But Mr Mad, you’re not a qualified doctor! You couldn’t do my check-ups silly!’

Mad had decided that this tiny tickly terror was going to be the legitimate death of him, especially as she now squeezed the pressure points above his kneecaps. It was so diabolical, and if he hadn’t been so embarrassed he’d have probably felt inspired by it all. Right now though, all he could think of was his need for mercy.

'AHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE! SOHOHOFIAHAAA!!!’

Sofia giggled, and recalled the most important lesson from her papa about tickling patients; always stop way before their limit. She had mercy, clapping her hands together cutely as Mad gasped and curled up into a giggly foetal position on the floor. The little girl softly patted his head as she exclaimed.

‘I concur that you are most healthy!’

Mad whined into the floor, but his smile didn’t die, he’d definitely gotten caught up in the fun of it all. As he slowly tried to sit up, he smiled even more widely when he saw a certain green glob pushing a glass of water towards him. Mad accepted it, downed it in one, and saluted Gooper, who gurgled happily before wandering away. Mad ran a hand through his hair as he playfully glared at the little girl.

‘Y-Yohou’re juhust like yohour dad…..’

Sofia practically lit up with happiness at his words, her eyes going wide as she squeaked into her hands. Little dimples showed up on her little cheeks as she looked at Mad with all the joy in the dang world.

‘Awww thank you thank you thank you!’

Mad spluttered when she suddenly launched herself into his chest, but chuckled and reciprocated the hug she gave him. He softly kissed the top of her head as they hugged, and Mad smiled a rare, warm smile as he looked down at Sofia Schneeplestein. The doctor’s coat she was wearing was practically like a duvet on her, and Mad let out a laugh through his nose….damn her innocence and sweetness making him feel happy emotions, he was definitely going soft.

‘Nah uh….thank you, I ah….I think I needed that check-up….’

He muttered, making the little girl giggle happily….and that sound made Mad smirk. Yeah, maybe he was mellowing from the festivities and all the egos and their sweet, heart-warming spawn….but he could still be evil. He growled playfully.

‘….and now it’s your turn.’

Childish squeals and laughter soon filled the household now, the little doctor getting a taste of her own tickly medicine. And of course, with laughter being the best known medicine of all time….it was a time of health and happiness for all who heard her.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOOOO LUV YOUS XX

#matpat #madpat #mad #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #sofia schneeplestein #sfw #familial #ego fic #ego fanfic #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #day 21 #christmas 2019

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readbythestarlight · 4 years

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c2e88

Taliesin is so confused by this ad lol

Where is Laura?

The groans xD

Laura's?? Not here?? I mean I'm glad she's at the game awards but THIS IS SUCH A BIG WEEK STORY WISE

Boy we've just started and I'm already ready to die

[[MORE]]

I only just caught it just now but are the CA saying they recovered the beacon that was stolen? Aka the one the M9 returned to Xhorhas already? Or a different one?

The Bright Queen gave them a house and the best the empire can do is a cozy inn? Lame.

(I was always more pro-Dynasty than Empire but it's pretty much set now.)

Didn't even pay for their dinner?? Rude.

Cad: "I've had to learn new words for what happens to me now."

The Dynasty: "We cannot afford to 100% trust you but you have done us a great service so here is a house and a symbol to show you have the favor of our Queen."

The Empire: "You did us a great service but also fuck you here's a hotel and no meal and also if you don't do this thing for us we'll charge you as traitors even though only two of you are actually from the Empire."

lol the hotel workers are funny tho

Empire people? Cool. Empire rules? Fucking suck.

Nat20 for free stuff xD

F: "who's the grossest?"

Cad: "I was swallowed."

Y: "I haven't had a shower in months."

F: "oh! God! What!?"

Cad: "You've won first place."

Y: "Oh, no, I wasn't trying to like..."

J: "IM GOING FIRST!"

I'm worried about Caleb

Snuggling his cat and thinking over his trauma </3

Laura just left the awards show omg

Also the way that Travis looked at her like heart eyes and Laura being like "hey baby ;)"

She looks hot by the way

Yasha paying Fjord back from MONTHS ago is sweeeeet

The book? What's the book? I don't remember?

"Is there a chair...?"

"There is."

"Kill it with fire!"

Oh boy here we go

"And I think we need to work with him...?" I don't like that and I don't think you do he's a liar and a manipulator and a piece of shit

But I understand his point because they are in the worst potion right now

Cad: "if he even looks at you sideways we will not leave enough of him to be found."

Goddamn Caduceus. I love him so much.

Cad: "Well, what I mean was we will do all we can to keep you safe. Is... what I meant."

They're being very serious about this and I'm so glad

Well okay they WERE being serious...

Lol Beau with this teenager is so funny and adorable

I'm glad they're not all sleeping alone

Jester is all sad that Beau doesn't want to double up :(

The B/J/Y shippers just went wild lol

F to C: "if you want to finish this personally... let me know." Thank you Fjord

My old Widofjord shipping heart is happy

Omg Cad handing over the symbol of the Wildmom and telling Fjord he's doing well on his own IM HAVING A LOT OF FEELINGS TONIGHT Y'ALL

Oh boy Yasha dream

I'm emotional

Like crying

Sure this guy does something neat with doors but doES HE FLOAT??

I miss Essek

The only mage with a tower I trust is Yussah and it is NOT this guy

Of course Trent is the one who confirmed it had been found

It's definitely trapped somehow

I don't like that they have to go somewhere that Trent decides

WHISPERS

he's a shifty fucker right we all know he is

Double whispers

Lol meeting in the Happy Fun Ball

I was gonna say the Forge

Jester wants to have it at Traveler con xD

Jester is weirding him out and I love it

God sure have this very serious possibly war ending meeting on The Ball Eater sure

They're disasters

I can't decide how I feel about him and I want to hear the results of the whispers

Oh no I'm worried about Yasha

Okay... so he's helping hide Yasha that's good, but is he also gonna hold that over them?

I hope Trent looks at Caleb sideways so the M9 can cut him into pieces

I feel like this guy is meant to be the Empire version of Essek but he's got nothing on Hot Boi

In a dense forest under a bunch of trees and a tower in the middle of nowhere

Oh fuck the sanitorium oh god oh fuck someone immediately check on Caleb

Trent did that on purpose

Hey Cad remember when you said y'all were gonna tear Trent apart if he tried to hurt Caleb? It's time to start ripping.

I haaaaaate this

I'm still trying to decide if Caleb legitimately snapped or if something was done to him

I want to crawl through my screen and strangle Trent myself

Someone please stay between Caleb and Trent at all times

So... nobody in the empire questions why Trent Ick-athon has a laboratory in a sanitorium huh. Like that doesn't ring any bells?

Also fuck it's Edowulf

Astrid's gonna come in to try and throw Caleb off isnt she

Liar liar pants on fire every word out of your mouth is a lie you vile don't of a biiiitch

WHISPERSSSS

he's a liar liar liar

Or he's telling half the truth

So the tripod... prevents it from working?

God he's such a condescending fuck I hate him

I haaaaate him and I hate that he's playing it so cool and calm because that makes Caleb seem like the unreasonable one which is brilliant of him but it just makes me loathe him even more

Oh god Caleb please roll well

Fuck fuck fuck I hate him fuck someone GET BETWEEN THEM

I feel gross and I'm not even in the room with Trent ugh

This tense standoff between Caleb and Trent is physically fucking me up my skin is crawling

Also Nott touched it and nothing happened

Eowulf is one of Trent's "favorite" and and he's looking at Caleb like a creep

Even if I don't trust him I appreciate Ludinus stepping in to cut the tension

Beau trying to trip him upppppp I love her

Alright time to get them out of there Ludinus

Shut the fuck up Trent you state away from both Caleb AND Yasha

C: "Wulf. It's good to see you again."

Eowulf: "it's good to see you too. It's been some time. You look good."

I haaaaaaaaate that they're all being so calm and semi-friendly because again it makes Trent and his ilk look like the reasonable ones

Ludinus: "I can always deal with Trent after the fact."

Y: "Let us know when you do that. We would like to help." Damn fucking straight

Essek scrys because he's worried about them and he pops in just in time to hear Jester insulting his teleporting Lol

I get the feeling Matt is tweaking the time of Traveler Con a bit because he doesn't want Jester to feel pressured to interrupt important things

Is the Wildmom illegal in the Empire?

Ha Fjord impressed Ludinus nice

L: "it's... entirely off-putting how disarmingly charming you are. I don't know how to handle it." That is the funniest thing anyone has ever said about Jester

J: "are you alright Caleb?"

C: "I don't know."

Y: "I don't like him at all."

Everyone else: "same/oh god no."

Okay Wildmom is illegal time to hide your shiny thing

Cad: "I have never seen another person walk so daintily around the truth."

See every time Caleb talks about how Trent gave "private lessons" my skin crawls it just draws too many parallels to creepy creepy shit

Yasha is gonna be good for Caleb here, they both understand what it's like to be used and controlled and manipulated

So like Trent was THERE and if he saw that Caleb knew about the beacons then he's gonna know that somehow they were involved with the beacon disappearing

Oh she's creepy

Cad gonna buy the femur flute lol

The pranksters gonna get that glue oh lord

Yasha gets a bone harp and she and Caduceus start the most unnerving band ever and I for one am THRILLED

Don't they still need to fetch something for the three kobolds in a trench coat? Let alone for Pumat and now this woman lol

Pride silk.... oh dear it's gonna be mutant bugs

Called it

Three silk worms good luck bringing those back

Matt's like WOOO fight tournament hell yeah!

Y'all should go take downtime in Xhorhas in the Xhorhaus and talk to Essek about all this

....I just really miss Essek guys please

Liam O'Brian you will NOT let Caleb sneak off on his own to go see Astrid you CANNOT ajslajkssksk

This episode didn't go as painfully/badly as it could have but it still stressed me out a lot and I'm still worried about Caleb and Trent Ick-athon can choke and if Caleb really goes go off on his own I will scream like baby PLEASE

God now we have to wait a whole week IS IT THURSDAY YET

#emi watches critical role #cr spoilers #critical role

19 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 5 years

Text

Alone, Together | Chapter 5 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Here we are, 4600 words later, because I don’t fucking know how to write succinctly. Guest appearances by Auston Matthews and Frederik Andersen!

Morgan was hardly ever anxious. He was usually cool, calm, and collected about most things, even on the ice. Bad or missed calls by the referees,

He was officially nervous.

It all started when Auston Matthews came over to his place. Auston was in town for a few charity events he agreed to do, and on an off-day in-between, he went over to Morgan’s house to play video games and catch up. Though they had spoken regularly, they had barely seen each other since the end of the season – just the occasional FaceTime. It was good to be together again; good to be playing video games and shooting the shit.

Then Auston got hungry and, well, everything went downhill.

“Dude, I’m starving,” Auston said, putting down his controller on the coffee table in front of him and springing up from his seat on the couch. “You got anything in the fridge?”

“There’s some chips in the top right cupboard,” Morgan said, continuing to play the game. He always had chips on hand. It was his trademark.

“Any beers?”

“Uh…” Morgan honestly couldn’t remember, but at the same time, he was extremely close to getting his targeted kill count so he wasn’t exactly paying the most attention. “I can’t remember. Just fuckin’ check. Go wild.”

Morgan heard the crinkle of the chip bag and the fridge open, Austin moving some stuff around. “Um, excuse me,” Auston said. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Since when the fuck do you use Tupperware?” Auston questioned, turning to look at Morgan. “You never use your Tupperware.”

“Matts, what the fuck?” Morgan digressed, pausing the game to look at his friend. In Auston’s hand was the Tupperware Bee gave to Morgan for the leftovers of the fish tacos. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “I use Tupperware.”

“No you don’t,” Auston said, looking directly at him. “You made me buy it with you, and now we both never use it. Why are you…” his thoughts trailed off as he connected dots in his head. His eyes bulged out of his head when he came to his realization, his mouth even dropping a bit. “Bro.”

“What?”

“Who is she?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “What are you talking about?”

“Who’s the girl?”

“There’s no girl, Matts,” Morgan gulped.

“Bullshit!” Auston yelled. “You never use the Tupperware we bought, and now all of the sudden it’s being used in your fr…THIS ISN’T EVEN OUR TUPPERWARE!” he screamed even louder, feeling completely betrayed. “Ours has red lids and this one is BLUE! Is this her Tupperware?! Oh my GOD!”

“Matts, calm the fuck down, for fuck sakes!”

“NO! I can’t calm down! Do you know what stage in a relationship you have to be to bring someone else’s Tupperware home with you?!”

“Seriously, Matts, you’re gonna have a hernia over Tupperware.”

“Stop deflecting! Who is she? What’s her name? Why didn’t you tell me about her?!”

“Matts, please,” Morgan rolled his eyes, trying to brush him off.

“Nah nah nah nah, I will shut this game off if I have to. Either you tell me what the fuck is going on or I’m stealing your phone when you nap and finding it out for myself.”

Morgan looked Auston dead in the eye. He knew Auston wasn’t bluffing. Auston would go so far as to spike Morgan’s drink in order to get to the bottom of this is if he didn’t fess up. “We met at a restaurant,” he practically mumbled.

Morgan couldn’t describe what Auston did next. It was a sort of fist-pump into the air, but he was still holding on to the Tupperware container, so it looked like he was celebrating the Tupperware. He practically threw it back into the fridge and slammed the door before running and plopping himself back onto the couch, forgetting the chips altogether. Morgan rolled his eyes. “You are honestly the fucking worst, Matts.”

“When am I gonna meet her?”

“Never if you keep this up,” Morgan answered quickly.

Auston convinced Morgan to meet Briony. Morgan prayed to every god imaginable that Auston wouldn’t embarrass him, or more important, embarrass Briony. Later, when Morgan met up with Freddie, he begged Freddie to join them. Freddie would provide some decorum at least. It wouldn’t turn into a complete shit show.

Freddie made a point in asking why, after only a month, Morgan didn’t put up more of a fight in denying Auston in meeting Briony. Freddie understood how private Morgan was. He understood how much Morgan liked his privacy, despite being a Toronto Maple Leaf. He knew how much Morgan liked to be alone. Everybody on the team commented on it. Babcock commented on it. The team doctors and physiotherapists commented on it. Even the equipment guys commented on it. And now Morgan had agreed to let Briony meet Auston, the most recognizable Leaf on the team…when he could have just said no?

‘But I like her’ Morgan had answered. ‘I mean, she’s going to have to meet everyone eventually, right? Especially if this becomes serious.’

‘Usually people are honest and tell the other what they and their friends actually do for a living before getting a girl to meet them’ Freddie called him out. Morgan couldn’t win because he knew Freddie was right. But he made Freddie promise he wouldn’t say anything to Bee. He agreed reluctantly, only because Morgan was a really good friend.

Were they moving too fast? Morgan knew people who moved faster…much faster. But were they? It was a legitimate question. It was just over a month since they had first met. They’d slept together once after a few dates. He hadn’t met Angie, Bee’s “person…you know, like in Grey’s Anatomy? She’s my person” because she was currently in Kingston with her boyfriend Mason. This would obviously be the first night she would be meeting any of Morgan’s friends. He thought the pace was fine.

Okay, maybe he rationalized it because he really liked her.

Bee looked at herself in the mirror once again, the luxurious bathroom of the Four Seasons Hotel in Toronto providing good enough lightning that, for a second, she thought she looked half-decent. She had on her work clothes – a pair of cropped, tailored pants, a flowy heart printed top, flats instead of her usual Tom’s shoes – and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit self-conscious about it all. When Morgan said he had friends visiting in the city and they wanted to meet her, she readily agreed, thinking it would be something small at his place. When he later told her they were meeting up at dbar at the Four Seasons Hotel in Yorkville…well, that’s when the nerves started to hit.

She had agreed to meet Morgan and his friends at dbar, since they were all apparently coming from work and she was grading the last of the exams in the solitude of her apartment. The fact that she was even going out during Labour Day Weekend was new for her. She knew everybody in the city would be out tonight. She didn’t like to go out on these types of nights.

Angie would always make fun of Bee for how much she liked being alone. Bee guessed it was a quirk she had, something she developed while growing up. When Bee was old enough to realize that her mother was an alcoholic, she would escape to her room (when she had her own room) and do anything to distract herself, sometimes even repeatedly doing her homework over and over again so she wouldn’t have to face her mother. When she was old enough to leave the house, she would – she’d take a walk around the neighbourhood or sit aimlessly in the local park while her mom binged alone or with “friends”, preferring to be alone rather than witness her mother succumb to the alcohol.

It really solidified itself when she finally turned 16, when she won legal emancipation from her mother. If she was going to do this – life – all on her own, then she needed to be focused, with no distractions. And if she was going to make it, she needed to work hard. And work hard was what she did. Alone. Nobody to support her, nobody to cheer her on, nobody to guide her. She did it all by herself. Alone.

Now Bee had to begin reconciling the fact that she also liked being with Morgan. That she was willing to go out in order to be with him; that she was willing to go to places that made her slightly uncomfortable if it meant she could have fun with him. It was a weird sensation, walking both sides of the feeling of wanting to be alone but wanting to be with someone else. She didn’t know how to justify it – all she knew was that she would continue to.

When she exited the washroom of the Four Seasons and walked around the building to wait in the lobby of the bar, she checked her phone again to see if Morgan had texted her. He hadn’t. She settled into the plush bench near the hostess, pretending to be on her phone. She wasn’t going to dare approach her. The hostess would probably laugh her out of the entire Yorkville area.

“Excuse me, are you Briony?”

Bee’s body stiffened as she looked up from her phone slowly. She saw a man – a very ginger, very tall, very big man – staring down at her, a soft smile on his face. He was dressed smartly: a pressed pair of slacks with desert boots, an unbuttoned collared shirt, a stylish sport jacket that fit impeccably. He was completely colour co-ordinated. Who was this man and how did he know her name? “Uh…yes?” she squeaked out, still trying to take all of him in.

“I’m Frederik. I’m one of Morgan’s friends.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, jolting up from her seat immediately. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Morgan didn’t tell me your names or what you look like and I had no idea who I would have to look for and --”

“It’s okay,” he laughed, extending his hand for her to shake. His hands were massive. They were like mittens. She was pretty sure they could wrap around her entire head. She was also pretty sure he had a least a foot on her height wise. Where the fuck did this guy come from? “Morgan and Auston will be here soon. Auston said they just gave Morgan’s car to the valet.”

“So Auston is the other guy’s name?” Bee clarified. Frederik nodded his head. “And you guys all work together, right? That’s how you know each other.”

“Exactly.”

“How long have you worked in the sports industry?” Bee asked, trying to make small talk.

“The sports industry?” Frederik chuckled slightly. “I’ve only been here since 2016.” He nodded his head to motion for Bee to look behind her, and when she did, she saw Morgan making his way through the door, his typical slacks and button down t-shirt on. She was starting to feel overdressed. His companion, who she could only assume was ‘Auston’ walked in with a beanie and what could only be described as extremely-expensive-and-tailored-but-still track pants. Track pants. Bee felt like she was in the twilight zone. Did Auston not know where he was going? Were they going to be denied entry now?

Morgan made a beeline to her, enveloping her in a hug. Auston looked on with a bemused look on his face. “So you’re Bee,” he said once she had turned towards him.

He, too, had at least a foot of height on her. She wondered if they planted themselves in manure every night to grow. She’d heard that saying once and thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, but seeing the sizes of Frederik and Auston – now she wasn’t so sure. “I’m Bee,” she nodded her head. “Frederik tells me your name is Auston.”

“So it is,” he smiled, shaking her hand. “Morgan’s told me so much about you.”

Bee stiffened at the words. “Good things, I hope.”

“He’s mentioned how good your fish tacos were once or twice,” Auston winked at Morgan, who looked like he was going to stab Auston right then and there. “Good on you for getting this guy to go out, by the way. Usually he just likes to be alone. Have you ever been to dbar before?”

“No.”

“You’re in for a treat, Bee. It’s one of the best bars in the city.”

As they made their way towards the hostess Bee earlier tried to ignore as much as possible, she watched as Morgan tried to discreetly elbow Auston and mouth to him ‘Behave’. “Table for four please, under Auston Matthews.”

“Of course,” the woman smiled, clicking a few times on her computer screen. “Welcome back to Toronto, Mr. Matthews,” she nodded, then turning her attention to Morgan and Frederik. “Mr. Rielly. Mr. Andersen. Did you all have a good summer?”

Bee gulped. What was going on? How did she know who Auston was automatically? How did she know Morgan? Frederik? Did they really come here that often? Could they really afford to come here that often? What the hell did she get herself into?

“The best, doll,” Auston smiled, the first to follow her into the restaurant.

They were seated much like she and Morgan were at Cibo – in a booth in a back corner where nobody could really see them unless they specifically walked that way through the restaurant. Morgan sat on the same side as her in the booth, immediately grabbing her hand underneath the table and caressing it tenderly. Frederik and Auston shuffled into the other side. The waiter that attended to them asked if they all wanted their usual, which they all did, which made it awkward for Bee because she was still trying to get over how fucking expensive the cocktails were so she had to choose on a whim.

“So Morgan tells me you’re getting your Master’s,” Frederik said in his soothing voice, and it was only then that Bee realized he had an accent. “Where are you studying?”

“I’m at U of T. I’m getting my Master’s in Financial Economics,” she explained.

“Where’d you meet Mo?” Auston piped up.

She looked over at Morgan quickly. “He sent a drink to my table in a restaurant.”

“He what?!”

“I did not!” Morgan denied emphatically. “How many times…I did not send a drink to your table! You got pranked!”

“You’re a lot smoother than I thought,” Auston commented. “In all the years I’ve known you, you would have never done something like that.” Auston turned his attention to Bee before adding, “He must’ve thought you were really cute.”

Bee couldn’t help but blush. She thought the last word anybody would use to describe her would be cute. “So how long have you known Morgan, then?”

“Well I’ve been in the Toronto sports industry since 2016,” he smiled, glancing over at Morgan quickly. “Mo became one of my best buddies. Showed me around the city, took me to all the good places to eat. He totally became the dad of the group.”

“The group? So there’s more of you?” Bee asked innocently.

“There is,” Auston nodded his head. “You’ll meet us all in due time.”

Bee’s nerves quickly dissipated the more she got talking with Auston and Frederik. She learned that Auston was originally from Arizona and that Frederik came all the way from Denmark. Even Morgan relaxed the more everybody got talking, his stiffness making way for more relaxed body language. They sat and talked for what seemed like hours. The one time Bee looked down at her watch – 11:15pm – told her that they did talk for hours.

Bee was able to discern a few things about Auston and Frederik during her time with them. Frederik was definitely more sophisticated (hello colour co-ordinated outfit), a lot calmer than Auston, and seemed to genuinely listen to what Bee was saying. She appreciated his soft smile and the way he would roll his eyes at Auston. Auston was definitely the playboy. He seemed cocky, fun, and confident – definitely the guy you would want to show you a fun night out in Toronto – but still humble enough to know when to apologize, to say please and thank you, and to leave a very generous tip to the waiter after he picked up the exorbitant bill.

As they made their way out of dbar, Morgan’s arm draped around her waist, she couldn’t help but notice the stares from other patrons. She wondered if the same stares happened when they had made their way into dbar. Stares made her self-conscious. Stares made her feel like she wasn’t supposed to be there; that she didn’t belong in such a swanky, upscale, expensive place. Stares like the ones she was seeing just made her want to be alone. There was one part of her fighting to say she had the right to be there just like anyone else; but the other part of her just wanted to curl up into a ball.

Right at the moment they were going to walk out, a man approached them with a giant smile on his face. Judging by the way he was dressed, Bee assumed he was the manager or someone important to the bar. “Matthews! Rielly! Andersen! How are you guys?” he asked loudly.

“Hey Joe,” Auston smiled, shaking his hand politely. “Good to see you, man. It’s been a while.”

Joe moved on to Frederik and Morgan before focusing his attention back to Auston. “You guys just heading out? Was everything good?”

“Great as always,” Frederik offered politely.

“It’s so good to see you guys again. You make sure all the other guys know they’re welcome. We’re gonna take good care of you guys this season.”

“You always do,” Morgan offered.

“Let’s get another one for the books,” Joe said, quickly taking his phone out of the pocket in his suit jacket and handing it to Bee. “Do you mind?”

Bee was taken aback for a quick moment, looking at Auston – who was still smiling – at Fred – who was pursing his lips together, trying not to look at her – and at Morgan – who looked so anxious it was as if he would throw up on cue. Why did he want a picture with them? Why did he…why did he want a picture with them? “Yeah, of course.”

They posed quickly and she took the picture, Joe the only person smiling from ear to ear. Auston and Frederik were smiling politely but she didn’t think whatever was going on on Morgan’s face constituted as a smile. She gave the phone back to the man quickly. “D’you guys mind if I tag you?” he askd the boys.

“Go right ahead,” Auston said on behalf of the group. “We’ll see you again sometime soon.”

Bee stayed silent as they waited for valet to bring Morgan’s car around. Frederik was on his phone, typing away on the Uber app. Bee kept looking at Morgan, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact. She wanted to ask what that was about, but she didn’t want to ask in front of Auston and Frederik. There were a million different thoughts running through her head, and she didn’t know which one to verbalize.

“Am I…I mean, do you mind if I get a ride home?” she asked quietly.

Morgan looked at her as if she was crazy. He squeezed her hand. “Of course you’re getting a ride home. God Bee, you’re something else.”

“I didn’t want to make an assumption.”

“I’d drive you to Vancouver right now if you asked me to,” he said quickly, and Bee knew he meant it.

“Mo-daddy, you gonna drive me home?” Auston chuckled, the over-priced alcohol clearly getting the better of him.

“No. We’re going to take an Uber,” Fred answered for him.

“But Riles promised he’d drive me home!” Auston whined.

“Auston, we are taking an Uber,” Fred said definitively. He looked at Morgan before looking at Bee. “It was nice to meet you Briony.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Frederik,” she said politely, letting go of Morgan’s hand so she could hug him. “Get home safe.” She turned to Auston who had given up on his fight, though valet was pulling up with Morgan’s car. “It was nice to meet you, Auston.”

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you,” Auston said, his filter apparently gone as he hugged her. “Mo will eat anything you put in front of him, including an entire ice cream tub if you let him.”

“MATTS!” Morgan yelled.

“See ya!” Auston waved sarcastically, running away to hide behind Frederik. Bee climbed into the passenger’s seat of Morgan’s car, watching Auston and Frederik as he drive away.

Bee was silent as Morgan began winding through the streets of Yorkville, eventually finding his way to Bloor Street. It was the first time she had been in his car, and she noticed the Porsche logo on his steering wheel. She took a deep breath in. Okay, so maybe they all made good money. Great money. Maybe they made enough disposable income that they could go to places like dbar regularly and get to know the manager. Maybe they all had really good jobs and were able to go out on the town a lot. Maybe they could all expense it to a company account. And if there was a group, like Auston said, maybe there were a lot of them. All going out on the town. All expensing their nights to a company account.

But they why would that guy want a picture with them?

She was so deep in thought that she didn’t even notice Morgan had already arrived at her apartment. Bloor Street at 11:30 at night wasn’t as busy as Bloor Street during the day, she thought.

“Briony…” Morgan’s soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Why’d that guy want a picture with you guys?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

Morgan gulped. There were butterflies in his stomach, knowing that everything would change now. The night had been perfect up until that point. It was now or never. “Because uh…we all play for the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

He looked over at her quickly and couldn’t discern the look on her face. “Like the hockey team?” she asked, as if there was another professional team in Toronto called the Maple Leafs.

“Yeah…like the hockey team.”

Bee nodded her head slowly, looking away from him momentarily. She mulled over the new information in her mind for a few moments. “So you, Auston, and Frederik…are you guys, like…good?”

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Some people say so,” he answered her question as diplomatically as possible. So it was adamantly clear she had no clue about hockey. She had no idea who Auston Matthews was. No idea about “Steady Freddie”. Did he tell her she just had drinks with the franchise centre? A franchise centre who had girls practically fighting their way to get his attention? “So you’re telling me you’re the only person in Toronto who doesn’t watch hockey? Didn’t watch hockey growing up?” he tried to inject some humour, hoping it would diffuse the situation.

“Watching hockey requires having owned a TV growing up,” she said curtly, reminding him of the poverty she grew up in.

This was going to be a harder conversation than he imagined it would be. He was an idiot for thinking this would go smoothly. “Briony --”

“So when you told me you worked in sports, what you really meant is that you’re a professional athlete.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” she asked, trying not to sound angry. “I wouldn’t have minded. Better finding out straight from you than from someone demanding a picture with you or an autograph or something.”

“You wouldn’t have minded?” Morgan repeated.

“No!” she exclaimed. “Morgan, you’re still a person. You’re a person before you’re a professional athlete,” she stressed. “You’re…this whole time…this whole time…it’s almost been a month, Morgan. How did you even hide it for so long?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. “Luck, I guess.”

“The people at the restaurant where we met – they didn’t know who you were?” she asked. He shook his head. That one was actually luck. “And Cibo – nobody knew there?”

“The guy who led us to our table, he knew. He always handles, like, VIP bookings or people.”

“How did he know we were there?”

“When you were in the washroom, I told the hostess my name and she called him and he came right out.”

Bee huffed. On one hand, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She didn’t watch hockey, and she wasn’t in tune with the names, the news, the games and the trades, but she still understood how much the Leafs meant to the city. She still understood their power and influence. On the other hand, she should have known better. The clues were there – at this point, they were glaring at her, so obvious that she could only think how stupid she was to have not picked up on them.

“Talk to me, Briony.”

She looked at Morgan. “I just wish you would have told me earlier. I wouldn’t have cared.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do people like…usually care?”

Morgan nodded his head. “Yeah, they do. A lot.”

“So, what was it? You didn’t want me to care?” she asked.

“No!” he exclaimed quickly. “No no, that’s not it at all. I just…God, I feel like I’m digging myself into a hole here,” he sighed, trying to find the right words. “A lot of people recognize me. Most, actually. So when the drink thing happened at the restaurant and you were like ‘what do you do’ and I clued in that you had no idea I was Morgan Rielly it just felt…nice,” he tried to explain as coherently as possible. “Like, you were talking to me because I was…I don’t know, a guy. A guy reading the same book as you. You weren’t talking to me because I was Toronto Maple Leaf Morgan Rielly, and it just felt nice to be seen like that.”

He watched as Bee furrowed her eyebrows the more he tried to explain himself. “And you feel you’re not seen like that enough. As just a guy,” she used his words.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“So what happens now?”

Morgan got scared by those words. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the mystique of you being just a guy is over. Now that I know who you are…what happens? Does this stop? Do you move on to another girl who doesn’t know you’re Morgan Rielly?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he said immediately. “I would never…no,” he stressed. “It’s not about that Briony. It was never about the mystique or trying to fool you or anything like that. Whatever bad thought you might be thinking, it’s not…there’s no way I would do that to you. To be honest, I don’t…I don’t know what happens next. The ball is in your court.”

He was surprised to see a smile grow on her face. “What a pun, Morgan. Shouldn’t it be like ‘the puck is in your zone’ or something?” she giggled.

Morgan couldn’t help but laugh too, realizing his words were so stereotypical for an athlete to say. It definitely diffused the situation. “What I’m trying to say is are you...I don’t know, okay with me being a professional athlete?”

“I already told you I don’t care.”

Morgan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. How did he find this girl? Where did she come from? “Then this doesn’t stop. I definitely don’t want it to stop. Do you?”

Bee shook her head. “No.”

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #alone together series

175 notes · View notes

theclintbartonbraindump · 5 years

Text

Clint Barton x Reader - N(ice) Doggies Ch. 1

Pairing - Clint Barton (Hawkeye) x Reader (that’s you)

Word count - 1772

Warnings - Language I guess, but what did you expect.

This is my first fic that I am actually posting! There will be at least one more chapter, possibly two depending on where it goes and how wordy I get. Just something nice and fluffy. Please feel free to leave comments and suggestions, I’m always looking to improve! Enjoy!

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“Did you see that?” The words came from Clint’s mouth as a stuttered hiss as another gust of icy wind whipped around him. The small valley the two of you had chosen to settle down in for the night was offering about as much protection from the Russian winter as a wet blanket. Even with the tent blocking you from the majority of the wind you could still feel wave after wave of what felt like liquid ice traveling under your chin and down the front of your coat. That whole experience was nothing short of miserable.

You and Clint had been told this was the tamest January this part of Siberia had seen in over a decade. “Thank God for that global warming,” the hotel manager had quipped, earning a look from you that was so cold it probably would’ve seen the global crisis reversed. If this was mother nature’s idea of tame you hated to think what she might throw at you if you ever showed up at her door unannounced, interrupting her favorite soap opera.

You shivered aimlessly as the hand Clint had been using to gesture towards whatever he’d apparently seen quickly retreated back to his coat pocket. Despite the violent protest from your neck, which had grown painfully stiff from the cold and your hopeless shivering, you lifted your gaze to match his own. You knew it was probably nothing, just shapes in the snow as is swirled through the trees, but you also knew that he’d keep pestering you about it if you didn’t make some attempt to ease his paranoia. As you suspected your eye met nothing but the endless sea of conifers, painted white by the blasting snow. You tried looking beyond the tree line, hoping to give Clint the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t just seeing things, but again there was nothing. You saw only the same thing you’d seen for the past three days, trees and snow. The most interesting thing you’d seen on your little Russian excursion was an owl, landing talons first on an unsuspecting field mouse. You looked back to Clint with sarcastic concern.

“I wasn’t aware that hypothermia also caused hallucinations. Or is that the sleep deprivation acting up again. I told you I could take a longer watch.”

“And I told you I am fine, I don’t need more sleep, Mom!” The emphasis he threw onto the last word made you smile as you turned back to the small fire that was now in serious danger of being blown out. It had taken the two of you nearly two hours and Clint using his body as a shield to finally get it lit. If it died now you were certain you would resign yourself to the same fate without a second thought. Damn wind! Weren’t the trees supposed to protect you from this shit?

Clint ignored your amusement at his outburst and turned his gaze towards some distant point beyond the tree. He lingered there quietly for a few more moments before continuing in his defense.

“And I’m not crazy. I definitely saw something.”

“Well Hawkeye, I’ll just have to take your word for it, I guess. You are the eyes of this duo after all.”

You didn’t even have to look up to know that a mischievous smirk had crawled its way onto his lips.

“Oh yeah, what does that make you?”

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Mom, apparently.”

Clint playfully swat at your arm, earning himself a feigned look of anguish to which he just smirked.

“I guess somebody’s gotta keep an eye on me.” He mused.

“If Natasha gave up I don’t know how SHIELD expects me to do any better.” The Russian assassin, and your personal friend, you were more than a little proud to say, had turned the walking catastrophe that was Clint Barton over to you for a couple of missions while she was “on vacation”. Knowing full well that Natasha would sooner be dead than take any well-deserved time off, you guessed that this was just her way of telling you that she was off on an extended solo mission that required her full attention. i.e. she didn’t have time to babysit the strangely easily distracted archer. Clint was the best marksman in the world, there was no doubting that, but his lack of any real formal training showed in some unusual ways. Most recently you’d noticed that it reared its head in Clint’s inability to focus on any one thing for more than exactly seven minutes. Why seven, you had no idea, but you’d clocked it more than once and each time at the seven-minute mark he’d be turning to you with some random thought, usually pertaining to food. The man really just needed someone to keep him on target, literally.

“What makes you say that? I think you’re doing a great job.”

While you wanted to be surprised that Clint hadn’t even pretended to be offended by your previous comment, you couldn’t manage it, because there it was again. You felt it every time he gave you that lopsided smile. It was like he knew the power it had over you. Like he knew it would always make you forget whatever scold or self-deprecating remark you had been planning to make. It’s like he knew just how to make your heart feel lite but turn your knees to lead at the same time. You’d known each other for years but had only really been able to get the chance to know the real Clint Barton over the past few weeks and he was still a mystery to you. You were now more confused about the archer than you had ever been and you didn’t know if his remarks were meant as mischief or if he truly meant it all to be endearing. Clint’s sense of humor, or rather his personality to be honest, always made it difficult to discern the sincere from the sarcasm.

You lowered your head a bit further to hide the blush that was forcing its way to your cheeks. True it would’ve been hidden under layers of rosy, snow-blasted skin, but you couldn’t take the chance. You smiled and went back to poking hopelessly at the fire before finally giving up. In its unattended state, the flames began to wither and eventually choked out of existence. Neither of you made a move to save it so as the fire finally flickered out the cold began to seep its way back into your bones. Not only that, but you were now very aware that night had fallen. Without the fire and with little to no moonlight reaching through the dense canopy of pine trees, you and Clint found yourselves enveloped in the near pitch black.

“Could be worse.” Clint piped up as he shifted closer to you.

“Really? Even with Bigfoot out there creeping on up.”

“I’m serious!”

“How Clint? How does this get worse? I’m sitting here freezing my ass off in the middle of bumblefuck nowhere Russia for absolutely no reason at all.”

Ok, maybe not no reason. You had been sent out here for a pretty legitimate reason actually. Something about Hydra recruiting in the area in the hopes of setting up a base. But days worth of trudging through the snow surrounding your coordinates had only proved what you’d guessed after about the eighth hour of your search. This was all a wild goose chase. Clint had radioed in to report as much only to be met with the news that you’d be forced to stay in the wilderness for at least another 24 hours due to inclement weather. Only once the storm cleared would you be evacuated. That was 36 hours ago, and the snow was showing no signs of relenting. To make matters worse your food stores were running low. You either needed to be rescued or to find the town you had started out in soon or they’d be adding you to the town folklore about people who never came out of these woods.

“There could be wolves.” You stared at him. Jesus Christ why was he like this?

“Wolves?”

“Yeah, you know, wolves. Like doggies only bigger and hungrier.” Why did he look so proud of himself?

“I know what they are, dingus.” You threw and ill-conceived snowball at him in retaliation for the lame joke that still had you chuckling despite yourself. Clint attempted to get his revenge by tackling you, only to be met with an armful of the snow you’d just been sitting in. You looked down at him amused from where you were now standing before gazing out once again past the trees. “You better not jinx us. There’s no way you and I are fighting off monster dogs in our sorry state.”

“Aw c’mon, don’t worry. If there was a pack in the area they would’ve found us by now.” He sounded so nonchalant as he picked himself up and brushed the snow from his pants and jacket. Like he hadn’t just been cracking jokes about one of the many creatures in the region that could and would definitely tear you to shreds. “Come on, let’s get inside. No use staying out here in Jack Frost’s asshole.”

“You go ahead. I’ll keep watch for a while.” You started to take your place back on the ground when Clint caught your arm.

“Of what? The pinecones? Look the fire’s blown out and there’s nothing to see out here, sweetheart. At this point, if there is anything out there you’ll hear it before you see it. Storm’s picking back up. Even I can’t see more than 10 feet ahead out here. Best to just stay in and wait it out.”

His words were all but lost on you after the utterance of the new nickname. Clint had a rep for be a pretentious flirt and you were definitely no stranger to that side of him. You’d been subject to his bad pick-up lines on so many occasions you had started keeping a tally. None of it ever really got to you, or so you had convinced yourself, but there was something in it this time that made you stop and do a mental double-take. Maybe you were overthinking this. You were definitely overthinking this. But then again, he looked more sincere than playful. You shook yourself out of your mild shock when you realized that Clint had been staring at you expectantly. You decided to blame his sudden change in demeanor on the shit circumstances you found yourselves in as you knelt down to climb into the tent.

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