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#my friends were like you’re so quiet dot what’s up and I was like. dude stop
sadhours · 3 months
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gamer boyfriend with kurt
kurt x female reader
cw: 18+ minors dni, virginity loss, oral (m receiving), no use of y/n, awkward dirty talk, p in v (unprotected)
“Ya know, if you actually stream the gameplay and not just your face, people might watch,” you tell him as you sit back on the bed, plugging in your phone.
Kurt looks down at his lap and then back up at you, looks like he’s connecting the dots and you’re right. Like he’s never thought of that before. He pouts, “Yeah well maybe when the money from Spree gets to my bank, I’ll look into it.”
You huff, propping yourself up on your elbow so you can watch him. You have no idea what game he’s playing, video games aren’t really your thing. But it’s a bunch of dudes running around with guns. You’d have a better chance guessing if the games were listed on a board and you threw a dart at it. Who you think is Kurt’s character isn’t very good, though. The dudes running around in circles and not shooting. Gets shot several times in the few minutes you’re watching.
“Are you winning?” you ask, bored.
“No,” he mumbles.
You sigh and pick up your phone, scrolling through Twitter absentmindedly when some porn pops up and out of curiosity, you don’t keep scrolling. An idea pops into your head and you reach your foot out to poke Kurt’s thigh. “I know how to get some attention online,” you purr.
“How?!” he asks excitedly, glancing briefly at you and then his eyebrows furrow. “I’m talking to my girlfriend, not you guys!” he screeches into the mic. Then his eyes roll, “Yes, she’s real.”
You giggle, stroking your foot up his thigh and back down. His cheeks flush as he continues in the mic, “We haven’t had a chance yet.” He sounds embarrassed and you can assume they’re asking if he’s slept with you, in not so nice words. And you two haven’t. Not for a lack of trying on your end. Hell, you would’ve blown him in his Spree the first time you met. Granted, you were drunk but you thought Kurt was cute and really, you would’ve invited him in if he wasn’t so awkward. So you left him your number on a napkin but he never called. And for about two weeks you wracked your brain trying to remember his instagram handle that he repeatedly rattled off to you and your drunken friends. They thought he was cringey but something about Kurt intrigued you. He was sweet. And really goddamn good looking under that mop of greasy hair and clothes his mom picked out for him.
She was really the reason you guys hadn’t done much more than rushed handjobs in his Prius. Kurt’s mom was… protective. Babied the hell out of Kurt. Treats him like a teenager and not a 23 year old man. The door has to stay open when you’re over. Like that would stop two adults from fooling around.
“We’re busy, I don’t know,” Kurt’s mumbling interrupts your thoughts. “No! She wants to. She definitely wants to.”
You get up from his bed and get yourself between his thighs, purring into the mic, “Oh, I really want to.”
Kurt’s face lights up, cheeks flushing as they swell with a bright smile. You giggle, and close his laptop, ending his stream. Something like this will get him banned, and you’re pretty sure he’d cry over it. He starts to protest, “Wait! What are you—“ it dies in his throat as you palm at his crotch over his pants.
His eyes roll back the harder you rub and yours glance up towards the door, making sure his mom isn’t being nosy. But she works a lot so when she gets home, she tends to pass out watching TV. You’re probably in the clear as long as Kurt keeps quiet. Your fingers work to unbutton his jeans, pulling down the zipper before grabbing his waistband and tugging his pants down. You can see the swell of his dick chubbing up in his briefs and you rub your nose against him, looking up to see his pretty, full lips falling open. He’s gripping the controller close to his chest and his eyes are on you. Sweetest brown eyes you’ve ever seen.
Mouthing at his boner, you hook your fingers into his briefs and start pulling them down his thighs. Kurt’s impressive length flops out and rises with arousal, filling out quickly. Kurt hasn’t admitted he’s a virgin, but you’ve come to the conclusion he is. Which is a first for you and it’s exciting. The thought that you’ll be his first is intoxicating and has you soaking through your panties. You wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke him slow and tight, mouth watering at the sight of it. His cocks huge. Pretty. Thick and long with a pink head and it gets wet. Never seen a man leak so much. You lick his slit, giddy when he whines and grips the Xbox controller tighter.
“Maybe I am,” he mumbles into the microphone and smirks and you laugh softly, squeezing his dick tighter. More precum bubbles out of his slit and you’re quick to lick it up.
“Tell them, Kurt,” you bite your lip, “Tell them what I’m doing.”
He looks shy, eyebrows raising as his cheeks ruddy even more, “She’s literally touching my dick right now.”
He whispers it, barely audible and you wrap your lips around his tip, sucking softly as you look up at him. Wide eyed. Kurt whines again and then says, “I’m not lying!”
“Shh,” you hush him when you pull off his dick, “We have to be quiet.”
“Sorry,” his eyes are so so sweet and apologetic. You need him. Can’t handle it anymore. You stand, pushing down your leggings and underwear before climbing into his lap. He grunts, looking at you all wide eyed and confused but it just spurs you on more. You’re almost feral for it. For him. For Kurt.
“Shh,” you repeat, “Need you, now.”
You grip his cock, lining it up with your entrance and sinking down on him. You whine from it and Kurt moans, loud and shaky. Slapping your palm over his mouth, you look at him with wide eyes before looking over to the doorway.
“Kurt… keep it down, baby. Okay?” you whisper, gazing into those beautiful brown eyes. He nods, and you grab the controller, dropping it to the floor and guiding his hands to hold your waist. He grips you tightly, looking up at you with stars in his eyes. You smile, stroking his cheek with your thumb before lifting up and slowly lowering back down on him. Kurt looks amazed, eyes and mouth open in absolute awe. You build a slow and gently rhythm, wanting this to last at least five minutes.
You connect your lips to his, pushing the headphones off his head and they fall around his neck. Riding him steadily, you deepen the kiss as you slide your tongue along his lower lip. But Kurt’s Kurt so he doesn’t get it and you have to press your thumb to his chin and pull his mouth open. When you lick inside his mouth, he moans and digs his fingers into the small of your back. Thank God his cocks so long, it prods at your g-spot perfectly, hooked just right. You’re sure you can cum if you time it properly. So you kiss him filthier before picking up the pace, sucking on his tongue and licking against the roof of his mouth. Kurt’s completely falling apart, whimpering and messy. You bounce in his lap, adjusting the angle to ensure he’s slamming against your spongy bit just so.
His gaming chair squeaks under the weight, rhythmically mirroring your thrusts. You gasp, pulling back from the kiss and whispering in his ear, “Talk to me, baby. Make me me cum.”
“Oh!” he whines, “okay, uh… I’m fucking you. With my dick.”
It’s almost sweet and dorky enough to work, it makes you smile and you nod as you whisper back, “Yeah, baby. You are, your cock is so big. Filling me so deep, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” he whimpers, “Filling your pussy up.”
“How’s my pussy feel, baby?” You coax him along, knitting your fingers in his hair, slowing your movements.
“Good. Really good,” he struggles to get stay quiet, voice wrecked and shaky, “It’s wet and so good.”
“Yeah?” you hum, kissing along his jaw, “You wanna cum in my pussy, baby?”
“I—fuck,” he grits out, wrapping his arms around your waist while he holds you still, spurts of hot cum shooting from him inside you.
Well, you tried. You nuzzle against him and repeatedly kiss his jaw as he rides out his bliss. “That’s it, Kurt. Fill me up.”
He lets out a pathetic sound, face all contorted as he thrusts his hips up at you. Then his arms fall to his sides while he lets out labored breaths. You keep kissing his face and stroking his hair.
“Let’s go to mine. And we can do that some more,” you say and Kurt laughs, full of excitement and disbelief.
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haikyuufanficwriting · 2 months
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Chapter 9: Yamaguchi
Prompt: Reader and (Character) are best friends, that turns into a relationship Character: Yamaguchi
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Yamaguchi didn’t have many friends back in elementary school. Hell, who was he kidding, he didn’t have any friends back in elementary school. Being a small, light-hearted boy who cried a little too easily made him the perfect target for all types of teasing and bullying to occur. He had learned to avoid confrontation for the most part, to keep his head down and try his best to be invisible, but there were some days where no amount of quietness or lunch money could satisfy the bullies of his class.
Like the day that everything changed for the better.
Yamaguchi doesn’t remember what caused the altercation, only remembering being told he was weak and having his classmates throwing their bags at him. He remembers being the verge of tears, barely about to escape the threshold and onto his cheeks, when he sees you.
One of people who would go to change his life.
He remembers how you looked running towards them, wearing a poka-dot shirt, jean skirt with matching rainboots. He remembers the look of outrage and determination in your eyes, chest puffing up as you marched towards them. The memory was so vivid to Yamaguchi that he could even remember the different colours of the beaded bracelets you wore on your wrist, knowing now that they’re still your favourite colors to this day.  
You make your way towards the group, only huffing slightly when you reach them. You hold your face high march up to the main one of the three bullies.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is loud and commanding, with no fear or hesitation. An extremely powerful voice, which even leads the bully to pause in shock slightly, not being able to get a comeback right away.
“W-why do you care? It’s none of your business!”
“Really now? Well I decided to make it my business when I saw you push him to the ground!” You yell, pointing at Yamaguchi now, who was staring at you in clear amazement. How did you manage to not be fearful? Did you not see how much bigger he was than you? Did you even care?
Suddenly you go near Yamaguchi and pick up the bag the bully threw at him, taking it and throwing it right back at him, hard enough to make him fall onto the ground. The other two kids flinch back, giving you a look of clear surprise. Yamaguchi was as well.
“And by the way, carry your own bag! You could use the muscle anyways!” The bully flushes at the last comment and goes to stand up.
“You’re such a-” His words die right in his throat, as he sees an extremely tall boy approach behind you, staring at him with eyes that read ‘I dare you to finish that sentence.’ That boy would be the second person to change his life forever. The bully’s eyes widen with clear fear, to which the taller boy smirks.
“Bullying a boy that can’t fight back and now a girl? How lame.” You turn back in surprise, clearly not even realizing he was there.
“Kei-kun!”
The bully gets up and grabs his bag, taking a stand for himself. Yamaguchi hears his friend whisper, “Dude, don’t! I heard he’s a fifth year!”, to which the other one responds, “That’s not true! He’s in the same year as us!” Getting mixed information from his friends and with the aura of intimidation from both you and him, the bully decides to grit his teeth, call his friends and walk away. It’s silent between the three of you as you all watch the bullies walk away.
Once they’re out of view, you go to Yamaguchi and extend your hand.
“Need a little help?” He looks at your face to see the most genuine and gentle smile he’s seen on a person ever. Your voice switched from scary to kind in an instant, and Yamaguchi couldn’t stop the blush that formed on his face even if he tried.
“Y-yeah.” He grabs your hand, which is soft and warm as he picks himself up. During the entire exchange, the taller boy from earlier just watches, not saying a word. Yamaguchi’s eyes are torn away from him once he sees you searching his face.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” You ask, worry entering your tone, to which Yamaguchi just shakes his head, to nervous to say anything. He didn’t realize it then, but his heart felt heavy when he saw your face turn a little frightened. Now, he’d do anything to prevent that from happening. With his confirmation that he was uninjured, relief flooded your face, and removed the sudden heaviness from his heart. Seeing your face filled with any kind of positive emotion, Yamaguchi would find out later on, would make him feel impossibly lighter.  
“Good. You know people like those jerks only hurt others who seem weak because their weak on the inside. People like me and Kei-kun aren’t going to always be around, so you need to learn how to be strong and stand up for yourself. Alright?” You ramble, to which he just nods dumbly, not thinking of anything better to say. Thinking about it now, he would’ve never expected for those words of encouragement to be held so close to his heart. You gave him another kind smile, which makes his heart flutter.
“(Name). Let’s go.” The tall boy says tiredly, to which you roll your eyes. You give Yamaguchi a teasing smile and a little wave, saying a quick ‘Bye-bye!’ before catching up the boy who had already started walking. Leaving Yamaguchi alone in the park.
He remembers feeling guilty that he never got to thank them that day, but fortunate for him, fate would allow him to bump into both of them the very next day.
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Yamaguchi remembers being shocked when he saw the boy accompanying you that day walk into the gym. He had honestly came to the gym on a whim that day. He had wanted to try out a sport, and since most sports had a lot of scary guys in his opinion, volleyball seemed to be the best option.
Yamaguchi’s thoughts were so jumbled between what do or say he remembers meekly calling out to the extremely tall boy (Yamaguchi had never truly realized just how tall he was) and stuttering out an grateful thanks, to which the blonde boy just tilted his head in confusion.
“Do I know you?” Only four words and he had managed to break whatever confidence Yamaguchi had festered.
“Um- ah. The-the other d-day, at the p-park-” The indifferent and quite honestly bored look the boy was giving him only made him more nervous, and Yamaguchi would’ve gone on forever, had you not come over from somewhere inside the gym.
“Kei-kun, who are you talking-” Your eyes turn from the blonde to Yamaguchi, and your eyes widen in realization, before breaking out into the biggest smile he’s seen on a person.
Yamaguchi swore that day you might’ve given him a permanent heart condition.
“Oh my God, it’s you!” You jump from the gym floor to right in front of the now blushing boy, getting so close Yamaguchi could smell you. You smell of coconuts, and while back then the thought made him incredibly nervous, now the smell only brought comfort and warmth (Though it still did make his heart beat a million times a minute).
“(Name), you know him?” The tall boy asks, still confused. You just tsk, and smack his arm, as if to discipline him. Yamaguchi was surprised at your immunity to his intimidating aura. Hell, he still is surprised.
To this day you’re the only one he knows that can bite back at that tall blonde boy and render him silent.
“Kei-kun don’t be rude! He’s the boy from yesterday!” The blonde scowls at you, but doesn’t say anything, turning away from the both you, but you don’t even notice as you gasp and look to Yamaguchi in a sudden panic.
“Wait! We don’t even know your name! Sorry for not asking earlier!” You give a quick bow in apology, to which Yamaguchi quickly tries to calm your worries.
“I-its not a problem. I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi.” At his response, your emotions flip like a switch, going from distraught to excited in a second.
“Nice to meet you, Tada-chan!” Yamaguchi blinks.
Tada… chan? He had never been given a nickname before, let alone from a girl. It was almost embarrassing how much he liked it.
“I’m (Name)! And this meanie is Tsukishima Kei!” You point to Tsukishima, who is now back to scowling at you and flicking your ear in the process, to which you let out a pained whine.
“Don’t call me that.” You pout before huffing and rubbing your ear.
“I’ll change the name when you change your attitude.” You retort, sticking your tongue out as well, to which Tsukishima rolls his eyes. Yamaguchi stands by and watches the exchange, to which he is simply enthralled by your presence. Your total unwavering confidence was outstanding to him in so many ways, he couldn’t even begin to describe it.
“Anyways,” You emphasize, turning your attention away from Tsukishima, “What brings you here, Tada-chan?” Before Yamaguchi can even answer, you gasp again, eyes lighting up in excitement.
Yamaguchi would also learn that day, that you were, very, very talkative.
“Are you joining the volleyball club? That’s it isn’t it?” Tsukishima rubs the bridge of his nose. “Let him speak, (Name).” For the first time, Yamaguchi sees you become bashful, which Yamaguchi knows now it doesn’t happen very often, but is glad he got to see it back then. Watching the rose dust across your cheeks, you rubbing the back of your neck in embarrassment.
It was cute.
“Ah, sorry.” You give a smile in consolation to your chattiness. Your smile causes Yamaguchi to stare at his fingers, your undivided attention being too much for him.
“You’re right, though. I figured I would try out volleyball, since all the other sports have such scary looking guys.” Yamaguchi explains, and sees you and Tsukishima share a look, to this day he couldn’t tell what it was about. His best guess is pity, but knowing you two, it was unlikely. You turn to him again, with the smile on your face that refused to go away.
“While whatever the reason is, I’m happy it got you here. It’s a great sport!” You boast, and by the look in your eyes, Yamaguchi could definitely tell that you weren’t kidding in the slightest. Your expression only filled with passion.
“Do you play?” Yamaguchi found himself asking. He’s not entirely sure why it mattered to him or not, but with something who looked like they enjoyed the sport, he was curious. You give him a lighthearted shake of the head.
“Nope! I absolutely do not have the athletic abilities to play!” How you managed to still sound so happy was beyond Yamaguchi. Another thing that would lead him to be enthralled by you.
“You don’t have the height either.” Tsukishima adds slyly, making you turn and say a quick ‘Rude!’. You ignore the blondes’ snickers, turning back to Yamaguchi.
“I like helping around the gym and watching the practices, so if you join, you’ll be seeing a lot of me!” While you didn’t mean to make it more of an incentive to join, you certainly made it more appealing to Yamaguchi. “And I really think you should! I bet you’ll be great at it! Right, Kei-kun?” You playfully nudge Tsukishima, to which he stares at you with pure disgust in his eyes, after a bit of stare down between you two, he sighs heavily.
“Sure.” You let out a small chuckle. The sound was like music to Yamaguchi’s ears.
“You should be a motivational speaker, Kei-kun. You’d inspire millions.” You smirk at the blonde, but he doesn’t give you a reaction and walks away, going to stretch. You let out another chuckle, going to follow him, when you turn to Yamaguchi, giving him a look of pure playfulness. He heart stops for a good second.
“Aren’t you coming, Tada-chan? Don’t tell me I didn’t convince you?” You extend your hand to him for the second time, and it brings on a heavier blush to form on his freckled checks.
“Y-yeah.” He takes your hand as you bring him into the gym.
And just like that, Yamaguchi had found his two best friends. Though he would consider both of you to be the people closest to him, but the relationship between you and Yamaguchi would only bloom and shift to a different direction the longer you knew each other. Little did he know then, that when both of you would reach your third year of high school, it would become something entirely new and different. Something he had dreamed of since the day he’d met you. That impossibly confident and chatty girl.
Well, all he could say now is that it would definitely be worth the wait.
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djinnandtea · 4 months
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When I was in high school, I stumbled across an artist that really grabbed my attention and held onto it tightly. His work was gorgeous and fantastical and gory and also more than a little…salacious. All things that teenaged me love. This artist’s name was Luis Royo, and his works often involved some variation of beautiful, thin, light-skinned, half-naked women looking moody and forlorn covered in blood or boning some buff dude in some dystopian wasteland of a universe. But sometimes, Royo’s women didn’t settle for boning random men. Sometimes they preferred something a little more…inhuman. Yeah, baby, I’m talking about monsters.
Now, eventually I stopped buying Luis Royo’s books. I don’t remember why—I mean, I don’t even remember how I started buying them in the first place considering all of my mail was routed through my mother, because again, this was high school—but I stopped. But that didn’t mean that I also stopped thinking about ladies banging monsters. That never stopped. I didn’t have a vocabulary for this interest. I didn’t know what it was called, I didn’t know if other people liked it. I was consuming Royo’s work on my own and forcing it on my high school friends who were considerably less interested in the monster stuff than I was. So I kind of learned to just keep it quiet. But the interest certainly didn’t go away.
As I got older and started to explore different types of art and media and ways of telling stories, I found myself continuously drawn to some version of humans and inhumans connecting, falling in love, getting it on. Sometimes that looked like a really intense vampire phase and an appreciation for all things Anne Rice and Twilight and Sookie Stackhouse. Sometimes that looked like a really deep interest in folklore that involved humans marrying animal brides and bridegrooms. Sometimes it looked like a fixation with the movies of Guillermo Del Toro. And sometimes that looked like accepting there was probably a strange and unconventional reason that Beauty and the Beast was my favorite Disney movie growing up.
I mean. Did y’all see the beast?
It wasn’t until late 2022 that all the dots started connecting. I had decided I wanted to read more, specifically more romance. I added some BookTok accounts to my TikTok feed. I started talking more about romance books with a friend. I started exploring the world of spicy adult paranormal romance and joining Kindle Unlimited, which was very exciting all on its own. And that’s when I found it, my holy grail: the book subgenre known as monster romance. You know that saying, “All roads lead to Rome”? It was kind of like that, except all the roads I took lead to the city of monsterfucking. Monsterfucking was my Roman Empire, if you will. And what a glorious empire it was.
As I’ve engaged more directly and consistently with the monster romance genre, it’s inspired a lot of thoughts for me. That’s why I’ve started this blog, because I can’t stop thinking about fucking monsters, and I want to explore the idea in a lot of different ways. For today, I want to talk a bit about why I think monster romance holds so much appeal for me and for the many others who enjoy it. That seems like as good a starting point as any.
When I was thinking about this question, one of the first things that came to mind was a blog post I read a number of years ago that never really left my head. It was written by Cleolinda Jones over on Livejournal. If you’re an older millennial viewer, Cleolinda’s name might sound familiar, as she’s the author of some very funny movie recaps she called “Movies in 15 Minutes,” which was my introduction to her. But Cleolinda is also known for her Twilight recaps that she posted to her LJ account. These recaps fused a summary of the books with her own observations, and man, her observations were good.
In Cleolinda’s recap for the first Twilight novel, she gets into why she thinks the series has had the success that it’s had. She specifically talks about how she feels Twilight is just an extension of the “good girls wanting a bad boy” trope.
I actually don't think girls like a guy who treats them bad. But I do think they--we--get off a little on the idea of changing someone for the better, or the idea of having the power that someone loves us so much that he'll change or sacrifice something for us….A nice guy doesn't need to change, and, most importantly, he's already nice to everyone. How do you know that you're special if he treats everyone else with as much kindness and respect as he treats you? The "bad boy" type, though? He may range from simple, garden-variety jackhole…to appalling psychopath…, but you know he loves you because he's completely different around you. You are an exception to his very nature….That's the fantasy.
Now, I’m not saying every male lead in a monster romance is a jerk, because a lot of them aren’t. (Don’t worry, Sol, I’d never let anyone accuse you of being mean.) But I do think by virtue of these monsters being, well, monsters, there’s a given understanding by readers that a human should not be fucking one. Monsters are predators, monsters are dangerous, monsters are not made for cuddles and smooches. But these monsters in these books? Especially the ones who are a little rougher around the edges? Seeing them soften for their human partners is deeply satisfying and scratches the exact kind of itch that I think Cleolinda is referencing.
But long before Cleolinda was musing on bad boys, writer and literary critic Hélène Cixous was posing something related in her essay “Love of the Wolf.” This essay has a number of interesting things to say on the tension between love and fear, using the metaphor of loving “the wolf,” aka loving a thing that can harm or destroy us, to make her point. Cixous writes about the thrill of fear when in love, and suggests that we must have that true fear to experience true love.
But happiness is when a real wolf suddenly refrains from eating us. The lamb’s burst of laughter comes when it’s about to be devoured, and then, at the last second, is not eaten. Hallelujah comes to mind. To have almost been eaten yet not to have been eaten: that is the triumph of life. But you’ve got to have the two instants, just before the teeth and just after, you’ve got to hear the jaws coming down on nothing for there to be jubilation. Even the wolf is surprised. (Stigmata, pg. 77)
It’s the idea, once more, of the person that we care about changing their very nature to be with us. The bad boy will treat us with kindness. The big bad wolf won’t eat us. The monster will love us tenderly. We humans are special, something to be cherished, even by something traditionally seen as negatively as monsters have been.
It makes me think too about the popularity of dark romance on BookTok and Bookstagram. Monster romance is kind of like dark romance taken to a different sort of extreme. In dark romance, there is often a baseline threat of violence or a disregard of consent. The male leads are often cruel, unpredictable, and inconsiderate. Their love of the other character drives them to stalk or kill or harm others, and even to be deeply, toxically controlling and possessive of the main character. And this is why folks like them. These are the real bad boys, and I mean the really bad boys, that Cleolinda’s talking about. And with the monsters in monster romances, there can be a lot of overlap. The monsters can be cruel and controlling for sure, but even when they aren’t, their very existence as monsters makes them a super unconventional choice for a human person. If the mafia boyfriend with anger issues who you know you should avoid is appealing, than the entirely different species with claws and fangs and a tail who you’re really not supposed to want to bone is that appeal taken about three steps further.
At some point I’d like to explore the different sorts of monster romance book covers that are popular with authors and artists, because I think they get at the last topic I wanted to touch on today when it comes to the appeal of monsterloving: aesthetics. Size kink can be fun in every genre, but monster romances really understood that particular assignment. The monsters in these books are massive in every possible area. Their muscles are chiseled, their tails are long, and their eggplants are otherworldy. Not to mention, a monster may even have more than one.
There’s also the contrast of furry or scale-covered monster bodies embracing soft, fragile human bodies. Monster bodies are foreign and unique; they’re a fantasy that can’t be found anywhere else, which makes the fantasy inherently more interesting. There’s a lot more that can and should be said here about the gender dynamics at play in the design of these monstrous figures and their human partners, and even possibly the racial dynamics too, but for now I just want us thinking about how the physical depiction of monsters and humans together holds an undeniable appeal to a large number of people. I’m thinking again about Luis Royo and the success of his art that explored this very thing. And that’s really interesting to me.
I’ll stop there for today, I think. See you in the next post!
Currently Reading: Devoured by Monsters - Katie May & Ann Denton
Monster Joke for the Road: What was the dramatic monster’s favorite play?
Romeo and Ghouliet.
Until next time, monsterfuckers.
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hansensgirl · 3 years
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push it to the limit.
summary. | As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him.
warnings. | Non/Dubcon, watersports, obsessive behaviour, coercion, bribery, dark themes, drinking (champagne), hate fucking, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation, breeding kink, choking, allusions to anal, reader is really rude (so is Niki), *sexism/misogyny/paying for sex (see a/n), and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.
word count. | 8.4k
pairings. | Dark!Niki Lauda x Reader, James Hunt x Reader (it’s one-sided).
author’s note. | please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. *he talks about paying you for sex as a way to degrade you, it’s brief and in german! it does not reflect anything about me or my blog. we are pro-sex work here! it’s just fiction.
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“Look! There he is!” a small voice tells you, pointing somewhere with a great distance. You’re not sure how he manages to spot his favourite racer from so far. Among the sea of heads, your younger brother sits on your shoulders. You can feel him touching you down to your bones, and you try to ignore the pain just for him. “You sure? You said that five times before, y’know,” you denote, and you hear the six-year-old groan. “Yes, I’m sure! Look, he’s drinking that nasty stuff like always,” he adds, and you realize he’s talking about James’s signature champagne.
“It’s not nasty,” you mumble under your breath, remembering the way the pleasant liquid felt and tasted against your tongue. Sticky gold is what you’d describe it as, and you recall how it stained your skin. Shaky hands are bound to tremor even more under pressure, and your friend is an absolute clutz. It’s no wonder she made such a mess, as it is one of her best traits. But a particular pair of hands that seemed to have Midas’s touch cleaned you up, and you still to this day wish you were awake to thank them. You have many regrets, but that’s just a small one.
“Can we go closer to the fence? I want to try and talk to him,” your brother politely requests, and you let out a heavy sigh. Your mouth is pressed in a line, and you begin to shift your feet. You’ve got boots made of suede, a brown colour that always seems to go best with your all-black outfits. There’s a matching jacket on you as well, and it has fur on the cuffs and collar.
“What’s the marvel of watching it in person rather than watching it on television? Out here, we struggle so much, and you can barely even watch them properly. On the television, well, you see it all, and you can be as comfortable as you want,” you wonder out loud, and the child holds onto you tightly. He squeezes your head tightly, and the ribbon in your hair begins to fall in your face. It’s white silk, with a lovely hem to it. You save it for these races your sibling always wants to go to. Your other coloured ones are left for daily excursions, and sometimes a good party, too.
“Excuse me!” you loudly call out, and other women cast you nasty glares. You’ve seen those same looks one too many times, and you don’t pay any mind to them. If they truly care about their spots, they’d stand up and fight for them. But they’re just like babies with a piece of candy in their tiny fists. Maybe a jellybean, or perhaps even a pack of those oh so enjoyable Sour Patch Kids. “Why do you like only him?” you ask, raising both your eyebrows as you get closer to the fence. “I like James and Niki!” he exclaims loudly, and you loop your fingers between the holes of the fence.
“Niki? As in Niki Lauda? That arrogant, Austrian asshole?” you question in shock, not minding your foul language at all. “Yes! The guy that Dad hates. He’s cool, and he’s fast,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? There’s nothing cool about him. He’s just… fast. James is the cool one,” you argue, and you can hear him groaning. “You like James Hunt because he looked at you that one time,” he snaps back in annoyance, and you sigh dreamily in remembrance. “Exactly! Now I need to look for Niki, I wanna say hi to him!” your brother exclaims, and your eyes scan the entrance area for Niki Lauda.
“Don’t just say hi to him; ask him for an autograph! We can sell it to one of his fans afterwards. They’re always dying for anything of his,” you propose, and your brother simply ignores the swindling ways that you’ve inherited from your grandfather since you were a kid. It’s the reason why you tend to find purses with deep pockets and smooth zippers that don’t pinch on the inner fabric. You reach into your bag, and you grab a marker that you’ve always got with you.
The crowd gets louder and louder, almost as if you’ve got headphones on your head and you want to turn down the volume, but you keep hitting the wrong button. A woman shrieks in your left ear, and a man whoops in the other. More bodies press against you, and with the marker in between two of your digits, you hope that you don’t return home with billions of bruises. On the big screen, recaps from the previous races are being played. It’s win after win, all on behalf of Niki Lauda and his incredible luck that doesn’t seem to have any end.
You’re finally able to make out what people are screaming; the curly-haired man’s name. “Niki! I love you!” they all shout, and you wonder if any of them like James. It seems like you haven’t found your people, and maybe just for today, you’re the odd one out. “Seems like you’re not the only one that has Niki amongst their favourites,” you grumble, and your brother lets out a giggle. A few moments later, he sits up far more proper on your shoulders. The hand with the marker in it grabs onto one of his legs, and you make sure he doesn’t fall down and ends up being the true loser of this race.
“Niki! I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, using his full voice and then some. You look over to the entrance, and you spot the brooding Austrian wrapped in red walking out with a deep frown on his face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but your brother doesn’t care about your deep annoyance towards his idol. Niki shoots a look over to where you’re both standing, and your brother waves his arms from side to side, trying to get the racer’s attention. Even if he doesn’t, you have a feeling that Niki will be more displeased than anything.
It only makes sense, as he always acts that way with his fans though they’re the only people who appreciate him.
His nose is upturned, and he tries to pinpoint your brother and his powerful screams. High-pitched yet so loud, it’s no wonder why his tantrums are the root for almost all household headaches. “He’s looking over here,” you tell him, and your brother nods. “Yeah, because of me! He’s going to come, and I’m going to meet him!” he squeals, somehow connecting none existent dots to fuel a form of hope that dwindles inside him. You can be mean, but you’re not cruel. So you won’t be a realist, and you’ll let the youth on your shoulders believe what he wants to think.
“And when you meet him, ask him to sign something,” you advise, not letting go of your chance to make a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s pondering whether or not he should do it. “Niki! I love you!” the woman next to you screams as if she’s using every bit of her energy to get him to notice her. Your head already starts to ache just a bit, and you wish you brought some form of a pain killer. Niki saunters over to the fence, and for some reason, you don’t feel proper behind the fence.
It’s the way he carries himself with the highest of heads, a sort of confidence dragging with his every step. He knows he can do anything right now, and everybody except you would love him for it. He could make an entire turn and not greet his fans, and they’ll laugh it off. You’ve witnessed his haughtiness, and there’s no doubt inside you that you’ll see it again. “Niki! Good luck on the race!” a person says, and the rest of the crowd laughs at them.
“Dude, he doesn’t need your luck,” someone next to them says before elbowing the poor fan’s ribs. You can hear them wince in pain before they start to scream at the racer once again. Niki raises his hands up to his chest, almost as if he’s surrendering to something. That bratty smirk of his is replaced by a cheerful smile, and while everyone adores it, you see right through the façade. “Hello, everyone!” he greets, and you already want to roll your eyes until they fall back into your skull.
Niki stands right in front of you, and you try to look somewhere other than his face. Your view darts wildly until you finally settle on looking at the exceptionally boring asphalt underneath your feet. The screaming quiets down, and you wonder if everything is okay. “Uhm, Mr. Niki Lauda? I love you! I’m such a big fan! I watch all of your races, and I try to go to them all! Can I have an autograph?” your brother gleefully expresses, and you snap your head up at his words.
Much to your dismay, you lock gazes with the man you hate most in this entire stadium. His eyes are rather dull, yet they’ve got a sort of darkness in them that makes you feel just a tad bit uneasy. Both begrudgingly and excitedly, you hand the marker to your brother, who, in turn, gives it to his idol. Niki takes it gratefully, and he raises his least dominant hand. The other fans try to reach for it, for him. But he ignores them, and he gives a high-five to your brother.
You can’t hear the sound of their palms meeting because the displeasure of the crowd drowns it all out. “What do you want me to write it on?” Niki questions, taking the cap off of the marker. “Uhm, my shirt?” he offers, stretching the red fabric towards the elder. You observe as the racer awkwardly signs his name on your brother’s clothing, and you know that your Mother is going to be more than angry. Your Father, on the other hand, will be filled with pride and excitement.
“Thank you so much!” the child squeals, and Niki simply waves his hand as if it was no big deal to him. But you know that deep down inside, he was probably a bit annoyed. “Do you want an autograph, Miss?” Niki asks, and you take note of how his demeanour has changed. His features are softer, and his eyes seem to be lit up. “Oh, uh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for James. I love him a lot,” you tell him, pushing your shoulders back in confidence. The people around you let out gasps, and they follow their sounds up with whispers that aren’t so hushed.
Niki’s face drops, and you give him your fakest smile. He stares at you, almost as if he wants to lash out and scream. Maybe even call you a name or two. “That’s alright,” he assures after a while, and you have the urge to say something snarky. He hands the marker back to your brother, who is too busy being in awe of his favourite racer to listen to you being on your worst behaviour. Niki walks off, but this time, his stride lacks his boldness. “He’s so cool!” your brother squeals, staring at the Sharpie. You sigh, knowing that you two will constantly butt heads over Niki.
“Well, I beg to disagree.”
“Niki! Is everything okay?” one of the mechanics asks, and the star nods his head mindlessly. Instead of pressing him for some sort of answer, he leaves Niki alone to mull all by himself. There is not one person who dares to talk to him before the race unless it has to do with the car or the competition itself. It’s out of pure fear because nobody likes to face the Austrian’s wrath. From screaming way too loudly to piercing, uncomfortable stares, he never knows how to properly communicate with others.
He gazes at you from just a few mere metres away. His eyes are like ice, and he hopes you can feel the coldness from where you are. He really fucking hopes you do. You’ve got that sultry look to you, and it’s not cast towards him. No, it isn’t at all, and it irks him all the way to his bones. You ogle James fucking Hunt. Of all the other inferior racers there, you choose to admire James, and Niki hates you both for that. At every single race, he’s seen you show up to, you never look at him.
You don’t acknowledge him at all. It doesn't just hurt his ego; it also breaks his heart. Your preference and love for the Englishman injure those butterflies inside Niki’s stomach, and yet they still continue to flutter. The funniest, most ironic part of everything is that the races you attend always end with Niki being the winner. Never James. But you still idolize him over the Austrian, and he’s tired of it.
“Make sure it goes fast, okay? Fast, but nothing should catch on fire or malfunction,” Niki tells his technicians, and they halt what they’re doing. “But, Sir-” one of them starts, and Niki closes his fist for them. “No,” he simply states before crossing his arms once again. Niki looks back over to you, and you’ve now got a smile on your face. He loves the sight, but he knows his adoration will turn sour in a few seconds once he follows your line of gaze. So he chooses not to, and he decides to use you as his motivation.
The racers all go to their cars, and they pull their helmets on. Some are dressed in black, some in white, and only two in red. James and Niki. Niki is surrounded by his team, and James has twice the number of people next to him. Along with mechanics are girls in short skirts with jackets similar to yours. Deep down, you wish you could switch places with one of them, but maybe it isn’t as good as it seems to be. Perhaps your spot behind the fence with your younger sibling is what’s meant for you.
Your neck is more than exhausted. Your shoulders have a unique pain to them, one that not even doctors can begin to describe. Your bones are in desperate need of a crack, and your muscles crave a lengthy stretch that’ll leave you shaking. Yet, you continue to stand there with no complaints ready to fly off your tongue. The whooping behind you is so loud, but you’ve gotten used to it. “C’mon, Niki! You can do it!” your brother cries out, clapping his hands in excitement.
Niki flashes a thumbs up, and he looks at you one last time. As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him. Perhaps this time, you’ll realize he’s the best racer there is. He takes a deep breath, and he reassures himself that he’ll win as always.
“I have a feeling Niki is going to win this one,” the lady next to you says, and her friends nod their heads in utter agreement. You want to ask why she thinks that, but you’ve already left a bad taste in the crowd’s mouth. “Do you think Niki will win?” you ask your brother, looking up at him as best as you can. “I think so, but maybe James will surprise us!” he predicts, and you nod your head. “I hope James wins,” you whisper under your breath. Your bottom lip falls victim to your teeth, and you gnaw on it out of stress.
You keep your sights on James, and occasionally, you glance at Niki. Perhaps it’s simply just morbid curiosity that’s eating at you because there’s no way you’d just casually look at a man you despise with all your heart. As all the racers go to their designated spots in their cars, excitement fills your stomach. But it’s mixed with fear, as anything can go wrong at these tracks, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about all possibilities.
Who will win? Who will get hurt? Who will get angry? Who will become sad? You ask yourself all these questions that don’t truly matter much to your life, and yet you still try to find an answer inside of you.
Suddenly, the sound of engines revving and then taking off fills your ears. Screams follow them up, and you realize that the race has started. You wait until every single car leaves your view before looking at the scoreboard. You can’t bear to watch them risk their lives while you stand not so comfortably yet safe behind a fence. “Oh my God! James is in the first place!” you squeal like a kid in a candy store, and your brother claps.
Some of the people around you cheer for James, and others for Niki. But you ignore them, and you simply focus on what the orangish-yellow neon lights say. Some names switch spots rapidly, perhaps too quickly for you to keep up with. But you stay trained on the upper two; I. HUN, II. LAU. The former stays on top for most of the race, and the latter switches with him every now and then. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” you nervously mumble, hoping that the Englishman stays on top.
“Seems like your favourite is going to win,” the known lady cleverly smirks, and you give her the side-eye. “Yes, because he’s good at what he does,” you confidently agree, hoping that you won’t have to eat your words in the next few minutes. She chuckles before shaking her head. “No wonder you don’t like Niki Lauda,” she expresses, shaking her head practically in some form of awe. “What are you talking about?” you annoyingly press, already growing tired of whatever conversation she’s trying to make.
“You’re both egotistical and full of yourselves. You do it because that’s who you are, and Niki does it for his own reasons, like pure enjoyment. It’s so obvious for you to dislike him because he’s a reflection of you, and you hate that,” she states, proud of herself for whatever reasons. “That’s dumb, and so are you. He does it because that’s who he is. I do it because I don’t like some people—such as yourself—and because I have plenty of reasons to be prideful. Not egotistical,” you snap, and she raises her hands as if she’s surrendering.
“Sure, whatever you say.”
Your mood has turned absolutely irritable, and the bitterness has claimed you entirely. You realize that you haven’t checked the places since before speaking to the lady, and you get excited. Flicking your head up, you expect to have your preferred person’s name at the very top, but instead, you see the name of the one and only Niki Lauda. I. LAU, II. HUN. “No, no, no!” you panic, watching as James stays in second place. None of the names change places at all, and you find yourself to be absolutely crushed. “Yes, yes, yes!” the crowd cheers and your face has fallen in disappointment.
Niki’s name gets announced, and everyone is absolutely elated. Everyone apart from you. Your brother celebrates the win from his high spot, and everybody jumps for joy. You stay silent, and you try your hardest to not swallow your pride. Each driver gets out of their cars slowly, and they congratulate the Austrian with smiles on their faces. You stare at him callously before you notice that James is still grinning. Despite not winning entirely, he never actually lost. So there’s no reason for you to be so dull and gloomy.
He walks off with his posse of men and women, and you realize maybe it’s time for you to head home as well. “So, your favourite won,” you say to your brother, and he giggles. “Yep! And yours lost!” he jokes, and you let out a forced giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” you brush off, making your way through the energetic body of people you strongly dislike.
Niki is engulfed in overly suffocating hugs. Some hands shake him, and some even slap him on the back, not so lightly. He doesn’t know which pairs belong to which bodies, and yet he goes with them all anyway. “You did great, Niki!” one voice praises. “Yeah, great job, Niki!” another adds. He thanks everybody in one sentence, and he pulls away once they start to mingle amongst themselves. The fantastic win of his isn’t what’s on his mind. It’s the thing that’s been etched and burned into his brain for him to think about, even though it should be appreciated now.
No. You’re what’s on Niki’s mind, and he has no intention of letting you leave.
He looks over at the swarm of heads that may have drowned you, and he can’t find you there. Not one trace of you is left behind, and his blood boils. Do you truly hate him to the point where you can’t even stay back for a few more seconds? Niki swears in Austrian under his breath, and he frustratingly walks over to the crowd. Fingers that aren’t yours reach out for him, and he ignores them all. “Have any of you seen that woman with the little boy on her shoulders?” he angrily questions, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.
His heart is still clamouring wildly in his chest, practically beating against him to be let out. “Uhm, she just left… She went that way! But I could easily replace her if you want…” a woman flirts, and Niki completely ignores her words after he gets what he wants. He leaves abruptly, and they are still yelling after him. “So eine verdammte Schlampe. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dir eine Lektion zu erteilen, du hast darum gebettelt, seit ich dich gesehen habe,” he grumbles, walking through the crowded entrance.
Niki emerges with perseverance and even more anger than before. He searches through the sea of racing enthusiasts, and he spots you being bent over. It’s a wildly lewd position for you to be in, and Niki finds himself feeling flushed and displeased at the way you let others leer at you. He should be the only one to see you that way, nobody else. The Austrian wants to storm his way to you, to grab you and drag you somewhere more private so that he can put you in your place, but he knows the current setting isn’t right.
“Uhm, Mr. Lauda? Would you like a drink in honour of your win? It’ll be on us!” a shy waitress offers, appearing out of nowhere. He jumps in fear, but he quickly calms down. “Well…” he ponders, even though he’s not a fan of drinking after a race. In a trice, the lightbulb in his brain goes off. It shines brightly, and a clever idea starts to nag him. “Do you, uh, mind doing me a favour? I’ll even pay you extra,” he quickly prompts, and the waitress smirks. “Sure!” she agrees, carefully balancing the glasses on her tray.
“I need you to take all these glasses—maybe add some more champagne and make sure they’re really full—to that person over there,” he instructs, pointing to where you are. He watches as you wave to your family, who drives off without you. “The one with the brown jacket?” she double checks, and he nods in assurance. “Yeah, that one. Take them to her, and tell her they’re from someone who adores her and her love for champagne quite a bit,” Niki directs while trying to hold in a villain-like laugh.
“Ok! Then I just leave?” she asks, tilting her head innocently. “Yes. And don’t mention my name or anything about me at all,” he adds quickly before placing a hundred-dollar bill on the tray. The waitress slips it into her pocket before walking to where you’re standing idly. Niki watches the innocent worker make her way towards you until he realizes he should hide away before she makes a mistake.
“Excuse me, ma’am? Hi, I have something for you,” a waitress tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- What? I never ordered anything, I think you have the wrong person,” you tell her, turning your back and facing elsewhere. “No! I have the right person. They said they’re someone who adores you and your love for champagne!” she gleefully clarifies, and only one person comes to mind. James. You let out an excited, eager gasp. One that can’t be rivalled by any of Niki’s fans from his win.
She hands you the two full glasses, and you can just tell that the golden liquid is of high quality. You get drunk quickly, perhaps a little too easily. But that’s never stopped you from enjoying yourself at all. “Thank you so much! Oh, and I’m sorry for being rude at first,” you softly whisper to her, and she simply waves you away. “No worries,” she reassures, and she walks off before you can finish your first glass.
Tilting your head back, you bring the first flute to your mouth and you down everything it has to offer in just a few gulps. The drink slides down your throat with such ease. It’s brut, and it has a sort of bitter yet sweet taste to it. Sighing, you smack your lips and take whatever is left of the first glass gratefully. You then switch the glasses around with shaky yet skillful hands. “Thank you, James, for being such a lovely guy,” you murmur to yourself, dragging out the last letters of each word.
The alcohol quickly settles inside you, and it starts to distort you as always. Blurry eyes and a hazy mind, you’ve turned into a drunken mess in a matter of a few seconds. You slowly sip on your second and last glass before your temptations grow tired of your sluggishness. You down the entire thing until there’s a small drop at the bottom that just won’t budge. You let out a tiny sound of amazement, and you find yourself wanting to have some more. You lick your lips, trying to search for a slight hint of the sort of melon flavour until it goes away.
“Uhm? Does anyone know where that waitress went?” you ask loudly, and those who hear you shake their heads ‘no.’ “Damn,” you frustratingly mutter, lightly stomping your foot against the concrete. You roll your head backwards, in both a stretch and a habit. Your mind feels heavy, but your bones and muscles are even more burdensome. You bring your skull back to its normal position, and you decide to go look for her. Stumbling clumsily, you walk back into the dreaded arena where everyone is still celebrating Niki Lauda’s victory.
Niki watches you amongst a crowd of fans who are trying to form some sort of discussion with him. They hound him with all kinds of questions, some about the race itself and some about the esteemed racer and his personal life. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes stay trained on you until you disappear behind the red door that leads to rooms that only named people are allowed to go to. “So, what are you going to do now, Mr. Lauda? How are you going to celebrate?” one of them asks, with a sort of sultry tone to their voice that he fails to notice.
“I have plans with a friend of mine for tonight,” he briefly states before pushing through them and following you into the stadium. “Can I join?” another asks, and he simply ignores them as they call after Niki with even more curiosity. It’s not hard to spot someone in bright red overalls suddenly walking into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but it’s easy to pay no mind to him because he’s a champion and most people who see him aren’t.
“Where, where, where are you, kleine Maus?” he hauntingly calls out, and his voice echoes back. Niki can hear the sound of your shoes clicking against the ground, and he decides to follow it. He tries his hardest to calm his heart down, but it’s hard to both hold your breath and make sure you’re not nearing cardiac arrest. The racer quickens the paces of his feet, practically jogging towards you as you decide to turn around and forget about the champagne.
Your jacket slips off your shoulders as you whip your body around, and suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall. The brick is painted over with a sort of cream colour. You begin to panic as strong hands keep you from fighting your attacker. “Du bellst wohl nicht nur, kleine Maus,” he notes out loud, and you don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. The voice is familiar, though, except for the fact it’s a few octaves deeper than you last heard.
“Niki?” you question, halting your flailing fists and restless legs. “Yes, kleine Maus?” the man questions and your jaw drops in shock. “What the fuck?! Are you insane? Get off of me!” you scream loudly, and his hopes of getting you still begin to die like a flower in the wintertime. Niki grabs ahold of your wrists in his dominant hand, and he swiftly turns you around and stomps on your ankles. “Help!” you cry out, but his other hand presses your face against the wall.
“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” he orders in your ear, pushing your white ribbon out of your face. You listen to him, but you disobey his commands at the same time. Writhing around, you try to escape the claws that squeeze you tightly, and you fail miserably. “Cute. Now stop fighting me, or else I’ll hurt you so badly you wouldn’t be able to go to anyone for help,” he threatens, and you gulp thickly in fear. Your saliva tastes of alcohol still, and you regret ever coming to the race.
“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard. All you need to do is listen to me,” Niki instructs, talking down to you like you’re some child who doesn’t know any better. “Why?” you choke out through gritted teeth. Your cheekbones rub against the brick, and the pain is gruesome. “Because I need to put you in your place. Do you seriously think you can just mouth off to me like that? To disrespect me like that? To prefer that pathetic racer over me?” he asks, and you let out a whimper. Each of his words sinks into you like needles filled with anesthesia.
They numb your mind until you realize what’s really happening, but by then, it’s too late.
“Well, obviously, I prefer James over you! Look at you, you’re rude, and you’re a horrible, shitty person. Now get off of me!” you lash out, even though your body doesn’t move. Niki simply laughs like a maniac, and you find yourself wanting to take back your words. “Maybe I’m so rude because I like you. Like how little boys tease little girls when they have crushes. You do know what a crush is, right? Just making sure since you’re so cold-hearted. Bet you don’t know anything other than hatred,” he spits, and you’re pretty offended.
“I know what you’re talking about! I’ve had feelings for people, okay?” you bite back, and Niki becomes curious. “Really? Let me guess. James Hunt? Some old boyfriend of yours? A man at a party who cleaned you up because you don’t know how to take care of yourself?” the Austrian questions, and you don’t realize who he’s talking about until you look at his hands. They’re the same as those gracious ones, except they’re more rough and lack gentleness. “That was you?” you ask, and you’ve lost all fight in your body at the realization.
“Well, of course, kleine Maus. Someone had to watch your back, and that someone is me! Du bist nicht so klug, wie du dich selbst darstellst, ganz ehrlich. But that’s okay, it’ll be okay. It’ll be just alright now that I’m here to put you in your place,” he reassures you, and you don’t even have the energy to ask him what he means. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve learnt my lesson now, can you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, Sir, I promise!” you plea and your words start to blur into one another.
“I don’t think you’re sorry, kleine Maus. I need to do what’s necessary because I’m fucking tired of you and your bullshit,” Niki snaps, and you whimper from the harsh tone of his words. His change in behaviour gives you whiplash, and you realize that there’s no way out of whatever he has planned for you. “So careless, so mean, so ignorant… So clumsy. I guess you aren’t as independent or as strong as you claim to be,” he whispers, and he causes tears to sting your almost empty eyes. They hurt, and they carry such maliciousness to them that you can’t help but be terrified of Niki.
A hand comes up to the waist of your jeans. They flare out at the bottom, and well, they look pretty damn good on you. But maybe a little too good because they make Niki think wild thoughts. He expertly takes the buttons out of their holes, and he unzips your rusted zipper. “P- Please, Niki,” you beg one last time, but Niki ignores you. He pulls down your pants against your protests, and he lets them get tangled with your tired feet. Your bare ass is exposed to the cool air of the arena, and goosebumps begin to rise on your skin.
“Such a lovely ass, kleine Maus. Maybe I should fuck it instead of doing what I had planned. Would you like that?” Niki politely asks, and your eyes nearly fall out of your skull. “N- No, thank you, Niki,” you shakily reject, and he nods. “You see, unlike you, I’m not so mean. So I’ll spare you, but only this once,” he cheerfully tells you, acting as if you’re supposed to start jumping up and down at his words. The closest thing to gratitude he’ll ever get from you is silence.
Niki still has a tight grip on your hands, and with your legs now immobilized from the mess by your feet, you can’t do much to save yourself. He wraps his arm around your waist, and he grabs at the crotch of your panties with no care at all. The cotton bunches up, and his fingers graze lightly against your folds. You try to ignore his touch, but he does the opposite and forces you to focus on it. He’s frozen, and you’re waiting for his next malevolent move. You can hear his heavy breathing, and he angles his digits upwards so he can touch you even more.
You press a fist against the wall, and you try to brace yourself as best as you can. Unexpectedly, a fierce pain strikes you in your hips, and it hurts more than you can describe. His hand has left you, and you can feel the air breeze against your pussy. Your panties are on the floor, ripped into a shred of fabric that no longer has any good use other than reminding you of how you could’ve avoided this entire situation. “I’ll get you better ones, don’t worry,” he reassures you in a humorous manner, and you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance.
Instead of having your hips jut out for easy access, he pushes your torso against the wall until there’s a pressure inside your stomach. Instead of pain, it’s a sort of tingling sensation that makes your eyes bulge out in shock. “Uhm...” you hesitate, and his ears perk up. “What is it?” he frustratingly asks you, and his harsh tone snivelling. “N- Nevermind,” you mumble, and you just try to take deep breaths. “Are you ever going to shut up?” Niki questions as his other hand skillfully unzips his red overalls.
He’s wearing a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the hot weather and occasional coolness. You keep quiet, not sure if you should answer him or not. Niki grumbles in another language that you don’t understand, and you realize that no matter what you do, you’ll always make him angry. Even your begging doesn’t bring you any fruits of labour. Only disappointment.
His shorts join the pile of clothing on the ground, many colours clashing that leave his eyes to be sore. Sunset pink panties, pale blue jeans, vibrant red overalls, and black shorts. It’s a fashionista’s worst nightmare. His hard cock is left in his boxers, and he’s just too impatient to fully undress. He throbs out of want and need, with a swollen tip that leaks with pre-cum. “I know this isn’t so… What’s the word you people use? ...Ah, romantic! I know this isn’t so romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m the only one who’s supposed to enjoy this, not you. So I don’t care if you want to fake a smile or anything like that, all you need to do is not say anything,” he explains, and you nod your head.
“O- Okay, Niki,” you assure, and he lets out a groan that is followed by his tongue clicking against his pearly teeth. “Dumb whore,” he spits, and his hand wraps around your throat. You’re inebriated beyond belief, and you don’t realize he can crush your windpipe in a split second until he whispers in your ear. “Can’t do one thing right, can you?” he retorts. The grip he has on your wrists suddenly loosens up, but you’re too sluggish to fight him. And even if you try, you’ll end up a pathetic loser with even less honour than before.
The fat tip of his large cock presses against your mildly slick pussy. “You’re already wet for me, kleine Maus! Oh, such a whore. You say you don’t want this, yet your little cunt is telling me otherwise. Maybe you should use it to think instead of your empty brain. You’d end up in better places if you did so,” he advises, and you try to tune him out. But he’s like an alarm that just won’t stop until you do something, and yet, you’re helpless. “Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu meiner Hure zu machen. Wie viel verlangen Sie? Einen Dollar? So oder so, du wirst von mir gefickt werden,” Niki snickers, and you have a feeling his words lack kindness.
But who the hell are you to worry about kindness?
Niki pushes his hips forward as his cock slowly sheathes itself inside of your tight pussy. The way you hug him makes him moan immediately, and he wonders if he’s the first you’ve ever had. “Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so right, kleine Maus,” he groans, slowly bottoming out inside of you. You’re biting down on your wobbly bottom lip, trying your hardest to keep quiet and not let out any cries. The pain is searing. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt, and it ingrains itself into your mind until it’s all but an illusion. You’re practically about to be torn in half from his cock, and you’re at an impasse.
The racer curses as his balls rest against your ass, heavy and swollen. He’s deep inside you, filling you up until you’re bursting and you don’t know what to focus on; the pressure in your stomach that just seems to grow with each passing second, or the pain that leisurely turns into pleasure you’ll be addicted to? Everything is so much all at once. “Feel that, kleine Maus? Do you feel how deep inside you I am? Good, because you’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, and you writhe around.
“So desperate already…” he whispers, watching as you can’t stand still at all. Niki’s hand leaves the base of his cock, as he thrusts his hips forward to elicit a reaction from you. He holds onto you tightly, and your body jerks from his movement. Your swollen stomach is pushed further against the wall, much to your dismay. You let out a gasp, and you try to close your legs as much as Niki will let you. He chuckles before he drags his cock backwards. His tip is the only thing inside you, and he suddenly begins to pump into you roughly. “Oh my God,” you whimper quietly, and your words are drowned out by the sound of skin against skin.
He thrusts up into you at a quick pace, one that your fingers or past lovers could never rival. It seems as though he’s fast when it comes to almost anything. “Die beste Muschi, die ich je hatte,” Niki whispers. Your pussy slickens up as he fucks you, coating him with your sticky wetness. The sight is something to behold, and his cock slips in and out of you with each thrust. “Make some pretty noises, kleine Maus. I want to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock,” he demands, and a loud moan moves past your lips without warning. It’s lewd and pornographic, yet it’s not as debauched as the sounds your wet pussy makes.
“Yeah, that’s more like it, hure,” Niki praises, and you mewl once his cock begins to touch that sweet spot of yours. It makes you go dizzy and hazy, and it also makes your legs weak. You involuntarily stop clenching your thighs together. Each thrust brings you against the wall, and you feel like you’re about to explode. Your pussy clenches down on Niki’s cock tightly, and his motions stutter. “Are you going to come already, my little slut?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts just to see you get frustrated. But the reaction you have is quite the opposite of what he wants, and he’s confused.
You let out a shaky breath that is filled with relief. You try to cross your legs together and push your ass backwards so that you’re far from the wall, even if it means that you’re closer to Niki. Your efforts don’t do much, and you want to wail in defeat. Niki observes you carefully before he shoves you back against the wall. You cry out before whispering a simple ‘please’ to him. He doesn’t realize what you’re talking about until he watches you place one of your hands on your stomach. You splay your fingers out delicately, and Niki chuckles.
The hold he has on your hips goes away, and he reaches for your hand. “Shh, it’s okay,” he reassures, and you furrow your eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Niki pulls his cock out of you until you’re an empty, gaping mess. Suddenly, he presses down on your bladder until warmth trickles down your legs, soaking the fabric at your feet. A few tears leak from your eyes, and Niki watches as you burn up with embarrassment and shame. The pain and pressure in your abdomen go away as you finally alleviate yourself.
“Dreckig, dreckig, kleine Maus,” he degrades, and you don’t have it in you to be offended. The streams of liquid eventually come to an end, and you’re so ashamed. You press your face against the wall and wait for Niki’s next word. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Zip, zilch, nada. Instead, he pulls his hand away from your stomach and uses it to silently guide his cock back to your drooling, aching hole. “Couldn’t help yourself, I know. It’s okay, it’s not entirely your fault, liebling,” Niki tells you, even though he’s more patronizing than comforting.
“Es ist nicht deine Schuld, dass du nicht weißt, wie man etwas richtig macht. Keine Manieren, keine Höflichkeiten... Ich verstehe, dass du so bist, aber ich bin hier, um dich zu ändern. Ich bin hier, um dir beizubringen, dass du unter mir stehst und dass du nichts anderes tun solltest, als meine Hure zu sein und mich zu verehren,” he continues, and you’ve decided to give up entirely. You forehead rests on the white brick, and Niki begins to fuck you roughly once again.
He pounds against your sweet spot relentlessly, not one error in his rhythmic thrusts. “Poor little thing acts all tough until it comes down to it… And now look at you, you’re a complete mess with my cock stuffed inside this perfect pussy,” Niki grunts, leaning his body forward. His chest is right up against your back, and his chin rests on your sweaty shoulder. Your white ribbon is a tangled mess, the two ends of it twisting together and falling in your face. The silk material is no longer cooling, and the styling purpose of it has lost its touch.
The plunges of his cock are more deep than quick, and each shove of his hips sends you spiralling in pleasure. “F- Fuck,” you moan, seeing stars in your vision as your legs twitch from overwhelming gratification. “Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock makes your pussy feel, kleine Maus?” he questions, and he further pushes his head down until his mentum digs into your skin. You wail loudly out of pain before nodding your head desperately. Niki squeezes the sides of your neck even more, but he also pushes down on your windpipe until you’re gasping for air.
You wheeze resoundingly, and the sound of you suffering for breath sends even more blood down to Niki’s pulsating cock. “Say it, tell me how much you love my cock and how much of a slut you are for me,” he demands, and you grasp at whatever’s left in your vocabulary. “I- I love your cock, Niki. I’m such a slut for you and your cock. You make me feel so good. I love your cock so much,” you pathetically mewl, and you can feel a form of tightening building up in you. Your lower abdomen burns up with searing flames, ones that trail all the way down to where you’re both connected.
You get wetter and wetter, more loud and desirous as your climax builds up. It’s like a staggering tower that reaches up to the sky and past the clouds; it has an end, but it keeps growing. “Are you going to come, kleine Maus? Are you going to come around my fat cock? I know you are. C’mon, do it,” Niki urges, and you moan his name loudly. “Do it, come on my cock right fucking now, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” he demands, and your back arches violently. You let out a gasp as your jaw goes slack. Red fills your vision, and you’re clamping down on his cock.
You moan his name loudly, and your juices coat his already sticky cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, digging your nails into your skin as you struggle to keep quiet like he ordered you to do. Your pussy spasms wildly, and your clit throbs, desperate for a few fingers to rub it. Your legs shake just a little bit, and you find yourself meeting Niki at his every thrust, desperate to keep going. Your ass moves backwards, and his hips move forwards, and the Austrian fucks you through your orgasm. Your nerves have sparks flying from them, and every part of you is sensitive.
“You’re so pretty when you come, kleine Maus. You look just like a desperate whore,” Niki grunts, and he can feel himself inching closer to his own climax. It’s like the light at the end of a tunnel or the chequered flag that usually waits for him at the race track before he’s announced to be the winner. “I’m gonna come inside you, kleine Maus, even if you don’t want me to. I’m going to fill you up with my seed and make you all nice and round. That way, you’ll know who you belong to, and you won’t be whoring around for the James Hunt you love so much,” he whispers in your ear, and you rapidly shake your head.
No, no, no, no.
“Yes, yes, yes, kleine Maus, you’re going to take my seed because I said so. Now stop fighting me,” he moans in your ear, and his thrusts grow sloppy and lazy. Niki shallowly fucks into you, and his balls begin to tighten up. His chest rises and falls, and he can feel his high beginning to climb up to the sky. Up, up, up, and away. Niki moans out the little pet name he’s applied to you, and he entirely shoves his cock inside you until he can’t move anymore. Growling, he comes inside you without a care in the world.
The raging, red tip of his fat cock is so deep. White ropes of his seed shoot into your womb, filling you up until you’re an upset, messy cumdump. “This is all you’re good for, kleine Maus,” Niki whispers in your ear, reminding you of your so-called place that he believes you belong in. His cum drips down your inner walls and leaks past his cock, and your fluids mix with each other. Niki’s cock twitches inside of you, but he remains as hard as a rock.
“Can’t wait to see you with my baby, kleine Maus. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when he sees you with me. Er wird so schockiert sein, dass sein Gesichtsausdruck unbezahlbar sein wird,” Niki laughs wickedly, and you can’t imagine you’ll ever meet anyone as cruel or as twisted as he is. “Can you get off of me now? I want to go home, and I want to stay as far away from you as I can,” you snap in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Nu-uh,” he tuts in a disciplinary manner. “You’re not going anywhere, kleine Maus,” Niki tells you. He tilts his head up until his lips touch the skin of your ear.
“I still have to celebrate my win with you, and I’ll make sure to push you to the limit, kleine Maus.”
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A/N: I would like to preface this by letting everyone know that I am in no way knowledgeable about actual science things. That being said I am amazed that in a random draw I actually managed to get a prompt that had to do with flowers lol. This is my contribution to the BakuHarem Collab! Please take a second to check out the other contributions here!
Warning: bad science, no protection, swearing, overs!mulation, accidental exhibti0som, intoxicated smut? idk sex pollen is a drug i guess.....
W/C: 3.5k
“Bakugou, dude. We should not-”
“Shut up Kirishima!” Bakugou walks through the sterile hallways checking every corner for signs of other people. “That bitch took my top spot with some bullshit flowers?!” He finally gets to the lab that was granted to you for your research. After winning first place, stealing first place in the UA university science expo. He walks into the observing lobby, looking through the large window to make sure you weren’t working in the lab after hours.
“Just keep quiet and listen for any one coming this way.” He walks over to the security door and holds his key card up to it, the light on the scanner turns green and he hears the dead bolt slide open.
Kirishima is lingering behind him, hovering in the doorway. He turns to Bakugou to talk him out of this again but his friend has already entered the lab. “Ahh geez.” He didn’t even wear any safety gear.
As the door clicks shut behind him, Bakugou stops to examine the lab. Several different species of flowers in full bloom behind temperature controlled enclosures. Some of them are recognizable; lavender, chamomile, and jasmine. “I thought it would smell like the perfume department, this fuckin place smells like heaven.” Guess it wasn’t a new shampoo she was using then.
He walks through the aisles turning his head this way and that, trying to find something, anything that he can fuck up without it being overtly obvious. He gets to the back corner of the lab and sees a piece of familiar equipment. “Perfect.”
*****
“He said WHAT?!”
Your roommate flinches at your reaction to her news. “He told Professor Aizawa that your ‘Viagra flowers’ are a joke to the science department and they should ‘wither and die’.”
You’re fuming. That fuck tard Bakugou, mister my shit don’t stink is ridiculing my research? “All that man knows is how to blow shit up! Just cause I beat him in the expo this year, he thinks my research is a joke?!” You stand up from the couch, pacing in front of it and you can’t decide whether to scream or cry. “Why did I ever like that twat?”
Cause he has wide shoulders, big hands and scarlet eyes that -
“Oh for the love of god shut up.” Screw your inner thoughts.
Ochako watches you pace, worrying in her eyes when yours line with silver and your neck flushes bright red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that.”
You stop moving and look at her, guilt flooding through you as she slumps forward. “Don’t apologize, I was talkin to myself babe.” She nods her head weakly and you stand up straight “I’m gonna go.” You walk to the door grabbing your coat and key card.
“W-where are you going?” Ochako follows you to the door and grabs your wrist gently. You turn to her and smile, she was always so sweet but you knew that if shit went down she would be right beside you, kicking ass.
“I need to blow off some steam, so I’m gonna go check on my ‘Viagra flowers’.” She huffs a laugh and let's go.
“Alright, don’t stay too late.”
You nod, put on your shoes and leave the dorm. It’s a bit of a walk to the building the lab is in and hopefully the cool breeze will calm your mind.
*****
As you walk into the building you are grateful that your professor is more of a night owl than most students. Considering how many naps he takes during lectures it is no wonder he can’t sleep at night. You contemplate going to his office to say hi but think better of it.
Don’t wanna end up venting about Bakugou to my professor of all people.
You walk down the hallway and notice the door to your lab is cracked. Not unusual, a lot of students from your class have been coming and going to see the different species of flowers and plants you are growing. Assuming someone didn’t shut the door behind them you take your phone out of your pocket to check the time. Out of the corner of your vision a quick flash of red and you walk right into Kirishima, Bakugou’s friend and one of your classmates.
“Hey! How- how's it goin?”
You take a step back, rubbing your nose from face planting into his giant chest. Does this guy eat boulders for breakfast? “Hey Kiri! Just gonna do some late night tests! You checkin out my garden?”
“Yeah! Flowers are pretty.” He laughs, it’s high pitched and obviously forced.
You take in his nervous appearance, the fact that he is still standing in front of the door and your mood sours.
“Where is he?”
Kirishima looks like he is gonna try and stall but one look at the fury in your eyes and his head hangs down. “He’s in the lab,” you rush past him and punch in the code to open the door. “I tried to talk him out of it!”
The door clicks shut and the spiky blonde huffs in annoyance somewhere in the back of the lab.
“I told you shitty hair, if you’re gonna keep a look out you have to stand outside.”
You clear your throat and his head shoots up. You walk over to him, taking note of all of the plants and equipment, taking note of anything that looks different. As you get closer to him you notice that he smells particularly good tonight.
Keep it in your pants idiot
“Really Bakugou?” You stop a few steps away from him, noticing the various disassembled parts on the counter top behind him. “What were you gonna do, break my extraction equipment and make it look like a malfunction? Are you a B-Movie villain?”
He stands up and you are reminded of how small you feel next to him, wide shoulders, arms barely fitting the t-shirt he was wearing, strong chest that tapers to a toned waist. He laughs and you look at his face. What I wouldn’t give to just lick from your navel to your neck.
“A B-Movie villain huh? That’s rich coming from the fanfiction cliché scientist.” He crosses his arms, your eyes quickly dart to the sight of his biceps flexing with the movement then back at him.
“Fanfiction cliché? What the actual fuck are you talking about?” You take another step towards him, softly inhaling his scent. Why does he smell so good?
He laughs at you again, the sound caresses your skin and you realize your feeling very, very hot. You drag your fingers through your hair, your eyes zeroing in on a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. When you lick your lips and shift to take another step closer a small part of your brain connects the dots. “What. Did. You. Do?”
Bakugou looks at you, noticing your flushed cheeks and eyes that show you aren’t quite your normal smart and sexy self. Reaching behind himself you hear the unmistakable sound of clinking glass, he grabs a beaker, an open beaker. “Just grabbed this from your equipment, I know how long it takes to extract this stuff. Would suck if it were to suddenly go missing.”
“You idiot! Do you know how potent it is in that form?!” You reach for it but he pulls the beaker out of your reach. “Why do you think I keep it enclosed? You have to close it up now!”
“Why should I?”
Honestly how stupid can this guy get?!
“Put it back in the enclosure first and I’ll explain it to you!” Your breathing is getting heavy, the closer you get to Bakugou the hotter your body feels. You lunge for him again and trip, he hurries to put the beaker on the table behind him and catch you. Put off balance from the position you both crash to the floor with him underneath you. Sighing in frustration you lift yourself up only to bump your head on the table, knocking over the beaker and spilling the extract over you both.
“Shit!” You scramble off of him and run to the door, pressing the exposure button and effectively locking it. You turn to Bakugou and back up trying your best to keep your distance. “Stay on that side of the room, if we’re far enough apart the effects won’t be as bad.”
“What are the effects?” The question is spoken so calmly that you almost convince yourself he didn’t speak at all.
“What are the fucking side effects!?” His shirt is soaked, sticking to his tanned skin. The outline of his chiseled body makes your mouth go dry. You look back at his face, his mouth twisted in frustration at your silence but no less attractive. The sharp angle of his jawline, pink lips slightly chapped, aristocratic nose, scarlet eyes that-
“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Shaking your head to clear some of the fog in your brain, you focus on him again.
“It’s an aphrodisiac so obviously it enhances sexual desire.”
“Yeah-yeah, sex pollen I get it. But what else?” he rings out the bottom of his shirt, lifting it slightly and you avert your eyes.
“It is not sex pollen, I don’t even use the pollen of the plant.” the last part coming out in a mumble. “The aphrodisiac only works on people who are consenting adults that are attracted to each other.” You clear your throat.
Bakugou freezes for a moment and looks up at you, examining you. The flushed skin, short breaths, and how you keep as much distance between the two of you as the small lab provides.
“So why are you so far away then?” The smirk on his face is sinful as all hell.
Cheeky bastard.
“Surely I don’t have to spell it out for you.” Resisting the urge to turn your face away from him like a pouty child..
“HA!” The smug look on his face momentarily lifts the cloud of lust and replaces it with anger. “Of course you’re attracted to me, who wouldn’t be?”
“Well, aren't you a cocky bastard?” Hoping you're not about to embarrass yourself you take a chance and muster up some courage. Slowly walking up to him you notice that his forehead is glistening with sweat, his breathing heavy, ears and back of his neck flushed with pink. “Tell me, Katsuki. How are you feeling?”
A few steps and you can see his hands balled up in white knuckled fists, a few more his jaw clench and unclench. Once you are only an arms length away you can see him swallow harshly, Adam's apple bobbing, nostrils flaring. You push your breasts against his toned chest, the light friction causing a moan to escape your mouth, the sound going straight to his cock.
“I’m - I’m fine.” Bakugou clears his throat, the sound of his first name from your lips sweeter than it should be.
“Lookin a little flushed, you feeling hot?”
He doesn’t answer, his attention captured by the closeness of your body, your lips, the tops of your breasts peeking out of the v neck top you’re wearing.. He stops breathing when your tongue flicks out to lick your bottom lip.
“Cat got your tongue?”
On impulse his hands move to rest on your hips, eyes never leaving your lips. “What was the question again?”
“How. Are. You. Feeling.” you walk your fingers up his chest with each word before pulling his head down so you can whisper in his ear, the anger fading fast. “Katsuki.” You hear him growl, the sound reverberating through your core, then you're being picked up.
“I’m gonna ruin you.” Bakugou crashes his lips to yours, pressing you up against one of the walls and bracing you with one hand so that the other can wrap around your throat. “Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He bites your lip, licking it to soothe the hurt. “Smart, funny, sexy, beautiful.”
You whine at the words and grind against the bulge in his pants, your pussy throbbing with need. “Need to feel you touch me Bakugou.” He stops moving and you shift to try and grind against him again but he holds you tight, slightly squeezing the sides of your neck.
“What happened to calling me by my first name, baby girl?” Loosening his hand and crouching down as if to put you down you sputter out “Kat-Katsuki Please touch me.”
The feral grin on his face has your pussy drooling and you all but sigh in relief when he stands up straight and slips a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts. “Oh god yes.”
“You’re so soft baby,” he pulls one of the cups down and rolls your nipple in between his fingers. “Take off your shirt, wanna see those pretty tits.”
Katsuki keeps playing with your nipple when you rip your shirt off, making short work of your bra and tossing it. As soon as the other nipple is in view he dives down to suckle it, his mouth hot. You throw your head back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pushing your chest out to give him better access.
He is merciless in his teasing, alternating between breasts, making sure to suck each nipple till they are both hard peaks. Kissing the top of your soft globes, your collarbone and neck, everywhere his mouth goes is left with a mark in varying shades of red and purple.
You grow impatient with him, needing to make him feel as good wanting to feel him with your hands, mouth, teeth.
“Wanna feel you too Katsuki.” you whine as he pinches one nipple while nibbling the other one. When you pull on his hair a little he groans but lifts his head, pulling both nipples with him before letting them go.
“What do ya wanna feel, baby girl?”
With all your inhibitions throw out the window you lean down and whisper in his ear. “Wanna feel you fuck me.”
You pull away and he quickly sets you down, you’re about to object when he takes his shirt off in one smooth motion then starts unbuttoning his jeans. You rush to follow, unzipping your pants and pulling them down, before you can pull down your panties he grabs your hand stopping you. “Leave ‘m on.”
Katsuki picks you up again before you can get a good look at his cock, but when it's pressed against you there is no need to see it. “Fuck you’re huge.”
He smirks at you, smug pride in his eyes. “Glad you approve.” Reaching a hand down he pulls your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds. “This all for me?” bringing his fingers up to show you the slick dripping down them he puts them in his mouth and sucks. “Gonna have to enjoy that tasty treat later.”
Your body is burning up, breathing is heavy as you both watch him drag his cock along your wet slit before pushing in. Your moans echo in the lab and neither one of you cares as Katsuki's cock drags against your inner walls until bottoming out. Right now is not the time for slow strokes, not with the aphrodisiac flowing through both of your bodies, so he starts a pace that has your ass slapping against his thighs.
“C-cumming!” You scream out before your body bows in on itself and you're creaming around his cock.
“Already?” a sideways grin on his face Katsuki starts moving you up and down in time with his thrusts, his cock reaching that much deeper. “Gonna cum for me again? Come on baby, wanna feel you milk my cock.”
Your mind is going blank, the only thing running through it is Katsuki. “Please don’t stop,” you dig your nails into his shoulders. “M Gonna cum again.” His thrusts go shallow and the head of his cock drags against your walls, hitting all the right spots.
You’re repeating his name endlessly, the only word that is in your mind then you’re cumming again. Your legs tense around his waist and your pussy clenches down hard enough that he has to stop moving or risk hurting you. He watches your face contorted in pleasure and starts thrusting as soon as he feels your orgasm subside.
“One more.”
Your head fuzzy, body limp from two orgasms. “I can’t!”
“Wrong,” Katsuki pulls out for a second, setting you on the floor and pushing on your back. You obediently bend forward grabbing the edge of the counter top and he wastes no time in rutting back into you. “You want me to stop?”
“NO”
“Then you got one more beautiful thing.” He sticks two fingers in his mouth, getting them wet then reaches around rubbing soft circles on your puffy clit. His other hand gripping your hip, before moving up and grabbing your shoulder using it as leverage to fuck into you harder.
“Come on, cum for me.”
You turn your head to the side trying your best to look in his eyes, yours tearing up at the overstimulation. “You cum too, fill me up Katsuki.”
“Oh fuck yeah.” Bending his knees he thrusts up into you and with the new angle, teasing circles being rubbed on your clit and the feral moans coming out of his mouth you cum one last time.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck
Katsuki cums after you, rope after rope of cum coating your fluttering walls.
You both stand there catching your breath. Katsuki pulls out and you whimper, “Oh don’t worry beautiful,” he picks you up again, walks over to a chair and sits down with you in his lap “not done with you yet.”
By the time you are spent both of you are exhausted and lost track of how many times either of you came. He helps you stand up, quickly pulling your panties back in place. “Don’t want you leakin.”
You giggle and pick up your clothes from the floor, he helps you get dressed and you both walk to the door. Making sure to check the air quality before leaving the lab you confirm that nothing is left in the air and unlock it. Before opening the door you turn to him opening your mouth to ask a question but he talks first.
“Let's go back to my room, yeah? I’ll help you clean up.” His voice rough from moaning and growling but you can see a small smile on his lips. Even though you know that the effects of the extract have worn off you can’t help but worry that he is still under their influence. Nodding your head you turn away from him again and open the door, walking into the lobby.
“I assume you're finished with the lab?”
You stop dead in your tracks, Katsuki bumping into you. “P-professor Aizawa?” Red hair peeks out behind him and Kirishima looks at you both with a nervous sharp toothed smile and red face. The fog of your memory clears and you vaguely remember hearing knocking on the window and door while you were… indisposed.
Katsuki steps in front of you, from the lack of red on his face or neck you know he isn’t nearly as mortified as you. “How long have you been standing there?”
The tired eyes of your teacher examine both of you. “Long enough.” He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are both to meet me in my office tomorrow morning.”
And just before you can’t get anymore embarrassed he walks out and says over his shoulder. “The labs aren’t sound proof, and these walls echo.”
@doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam @sugarspiceanddynamight
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seijorhi · 3 years
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Inescapable
Part 2 of Always - another soulmate au with extra angst!
Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Miya Atsumu x female reader
TW toxic relationships, implied abuse, blind reader
“Stay here,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek before you feel his warmth retreat.
It’s an effort to quell the fleeting panic that rises in his absence. Japan is your home – was your home – but Tokyo… You’re not supposed to be in the village. Only the athletes, trainers and the support crew for the national team were supposed to stay there. It kept out distractions, made it easier for security, gave the athletes the space to focus on what they’re there for; to compete. To win. 
You don’t know how he did it, what strings he had to pull, but somehow he’d managed.
A room for the two of you. Just the two of you.
“You’re staying with me,” he’d told you when you’d brought up the possibility of going home to Miyagi to visit your family, or even spend a few days with Makki and Mattsun. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
The words had been whispered, a soft, teasing purr as lips curled into a smirk at your neck, but you know what he’s like when he’s competing. The focus and obsession he’ll throw himself into. 
Especially when you both know who he’ll be competing against. 
Nevertheless, you’re here. Alone now, standing in a sea of strangers talking too loud in a cacophony of foreign tongues while Tooru left to go find his team–
Strong, familiar arms encircle your waist, a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 
– but only for a moment.
“C’mon, cutie. Let’s get going – Coach gave us twenty before he wants us at the gym.”
You know one or two of the players on the national team from San Juan. They’re friendly enough, and they’ll stop and chat with you on the odd nights you venture out into the cafeterias dotted around the village for dinner. But for the most part they’re focused on other things and Tooru–
Tooru’s possessive enough of your attention at the best of times. 
Which means that you’re either with him, tucked carefully under his arm as he guides you around the village, or you’re stuck in the room, bored out of your mind waiting for him to come home to you. And for lack of anything better to do, you have the games playing on the TV.
Just for the sound of your mother tongue filling the room around you. Just so you won’t be alone with your thoughts for too long.
It’s different, back home in San Juan. But you understand it – why he brought you. 
“Where I go, you go, always.”
“Always.”
And the loneliness is worth it, you think, when he sinks down into the mattress beside you after a long day’s training and pulls you close, nuzzling into your side. This is better than being left behind. You’re here to support the man you love. Your soulmate, the name on your arm be damned. 
His good luck charm, he hums, kissing you in the early hours of the morning before slipping away. 
But even you can’t just sit around the apartment all day long. It’s good to stretch your legs, even when you’re in strange, unfamiliar territory. You tell yourself that what Tooru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, forgetting just for one blissful moment that your soulmate and his team are not the only ones who might catch you wandering. 
Of course, that realisation doesn’t sink in until broad shoulders suddenly barrel past you, knocking you off your feet. And you would have fallen, awkwardly probably, had a pair of strong, lean arms not caught at your waist, steadying you.
“Jeeze, Bokkun! Watch where yer goin’, wouldja!”
The first voice, the thick, drawling Kansai dialect isn’t familiar, but the voice that follows is impossible to misplace.
“Thought I told you two–”
It cuts off abruptly, and in some distant part of your brain you register that the stranger’s still holding you, the warmth of his hand still braced on your hip, but all you can really focus on is the owner of that second voice.
“Iwa?”
Tooru had told you he’d be here, Hinata too and Kageyama. And of course Ushijima, but you’d assumed that – at least up until they played against one another or team Japan got knocked out of the running – they’d be busy and you wouldn’t cross paths.
There’s a surprised intake of air from your left – ‘Bokkun’, you imagine – and he asks, “Wait, you know her, dude?”
And still, the warm body holding you doesn’t move an inch. Not until a familiar, irritated huff sounds, “Get your hands off her, dumbass.”
The body behind you tenses for a split second before obeying, hands ripping themselves away from you as if he’d been scalded. “Shit, sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you murmur with what you hope is a polite smile, only half paying attention because you can hear Iwa striding towards you. In one breath, he’s knocking back your saviour and pulling you into a one armed hug.
“Shittykawa said he’d be bringing you,” he says quietly as you squeeze him back. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been face to face with him. Tooru calls him to catch up most weeks, more often than putting him on speaker so that you can say hi, but it’s not the same. “Didn’t think he meant to the actual village, though.”
You’ve missed him, you realise. Him and Makki and Mattsun, and suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, emotions welling that you can’t name. There’s so much you want to say to him, things he knows but should be said anyway, but–
“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pretty friend, Iwa?”
Your cheeks heat as the two of you part, yet it’s Iwa who answers for the both of you.
“No. You two need to get your asses moving,” he says. “Back to the gym, now. Unless you wanna stay back after everyone else finishes up to run extra drills?”
It’s a clear dismissal, and the two only pause for a heartbeat before grumbling their assent – and one sheepish apology – and heading off to continue their run.
“Let me walk you back.”
Some things never change, you suppose. “Iwa, you have an Olympic team to train,” you tell him with a wry grin. ”I’m not going to risk being accused of sabotaging the Japanese national volleyball team just because you feel the need to be gentlemanly.”
It’s clearly meant as a tease, but instead of the good-natured huff you’re expecting, he sighs. “C’mon. You almost got knocked on your ass, let me walk you back.”
It’s not a suggestion, and as he takes you by the hand and starts leading you back the way you came you’re reminded of high school - he used to do exactly same thing any timeTooru wasn’t around. There’s a slight flicker of irritation at your first breath of fresh air without Oikawa’s overprotective hovering being snatched away, but you know he means well.
He always does.
So you shove those feelings down and offer him a smile. “You know I’m stupidly proud of you, right?” you tell him. “Both of you.”
And something in Iwa relaxes and he laughs, “Yeah well I’m just glad you’re gonna be here to witness me wipe the floor with Shittykawa’s ass.”
It’s late, and Tooru isn’t back yet. 
And it wouldn’t bother you except that lunch had been hours ago, and your stomach is starting to growl, hunger settling in. 
Tooru works hard, he pushes himself and stays late when he should be home resting, you know that, but even if you did want to go and find him, pull him back so that he won’t push past his limits days out from competing, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him – not in this sprawling maze of a complex.
What else can you do but wait, as fifteen minutes turns into half an hour, then an hour, and suddenly it’s almost nine. 
He won’t be happy that you’ve left without him, but either he’ll meet you at the cafeteria, or you’ll get home before he’s back and you’ll have dinner waiting for him. At this time of the night it’s likely to be empty anyway, it’s not like you’re running off in the middle of the dinner rush.
Most of the athletes’ll be back in their rooms, you’re not gonna get knocked around in the mad scramble for food, nobody’s going to pay you any mind.
But once again, you’re proven wrong. 
It’s not quite the roaring din that you’ve come to associate with the dining hall, but you can hear a few quiet conversations scattered throughout the room. At least none of them pay you any heed as you slowly wander the buffet, shyly asking one of the servers to help you pick out something for you and Tooru both.
It’s not until you move to take a seat, hoping that Tooru will get there before you have to try and cart his dinner back to the room that you hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair being dragged back beside you.
“Ya know, Iwaizumi never did end up telling us yer name,” a familiar voice states, settling down into the seat. “He did end up making me ‘n Bokuto run extra laps as punishment for knockin’ into ya, though.”
Out of habit, your fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket – Tooru’s actually – warmth flooding your cheeks. He doesn’t sound pissed off by the fact, and you suppose he probably wouldn’t have sat down beside you if all he wanted was to pick a fight. 
“Oh, I’m… sorry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else. 
He laughs at that, the sound surprisingly warm and pleasant. “Nah, not your fault. Iwa’s a hardass at the best of times.”
“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since high school,” you muse.
Oikawa might’ve been Captain back then, but that never stopped Iwa from slapping him upside of the head whenever he did something particularly stupid. He was a hard ass, but he was also incredible at keeping the rest of the team in line and motivated, and he kept Tooru grounded. He kept you grounded. Aggressive, tough love was simply a part of that. 
You wonder distantly if his new team realizes just how lucky they are to have somebody like him in their corner.
“High school? Ya knew him back then?” he prods.
He’s a stranger. Not just a competitor, but ‘The Enemy’ just like Kageyama and Ushiwaka. Out of all the teams that Tooru might go up against during the games, you know that they’re the ones he’s most determined to defeat. And you don’t necessarily buy into the whole ‘destined rivals’ thing – Kageyama was never anything but polite to you, but you know you’re supposed to back your soulmate up on this. You know he’d be pissed to find you casually chatting away with any one of them, except maybe Hinata. 
Maybe.
But it’s nice just to indulge in a conversation – even meaningless small talk – with somebody who doesn’t know you as Tooru’s. You can’t help but relax a little, the tension easing from your shoulders, a small smile creeping across your face. 
“I’ve known Iwa since I was six years old. He’s one of my best friends.”
The man hums a little, his chair creaking as he leans back, “Really? He’s never mentioned ya.”
And it’s clear from the sharp intake of his breath that he regrets the words the moment they’re said, but instead of feeling offended, you simply laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. 
“It’s fine,” you say when he tries to backtrack. “Do you often have deep and meaningful’s with Iwa about his childhood friends?”
He snorts, “Yeah, point taken, I guess. So how come yer here then? Didn’t think they allowed cheerleaders in the village, even the cute ones.”
Something flutters in your stomach at his tone; it’s warm like honey, just a hint of teasing. He’s flirting, you realise, and in an instant you know you should shut it down. Harmless small talk is one thing, but you’re–
You have your soulmate. 
“What makes you think I’m not staff?” you ask instead.
“No uniform,” he counters, and you can’t argue with that. It’s not your fault that you can’t see what everybody’s wandering around wearing. “And you don’t really strike me as the ‘athlete’ type, no offense.”
You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just shrug somewhat self consciously. He’s not wrong; you don’t really belong here, but you find yourself reluctant to tell him the truth.
The only reason you’re here is because Tooru cheated the system, because he couldn’t bear to be without you.
Or maybe because he knows how much of a mess you are without him. Blind and helpless without him to guide you, even here, back in the country you’d both left behind all those years ago.
“I’m here to support my soulmate,” you tell him instead, and it’s not entirely a lie. No matter what, you’ll always support Oikawa – here, back home, to whatever ends. That was the promise you’d made to each other long before you’d ever left Japan.
There’s a short pause, and you take the opportunity to turn back to the plate of food in front of you – you’d forgotten about it entirely. You half expect that he’ll take it as the perfect opportunity to politely bow out of the conversation. 
You might’ve been blind, but you’re not naive; you know exactly what athletes get up to after the sun goes down in the village. There’s a reason that your welcome packs were stuffed full of free condoms. 
And you’re not interested in that. You have Tooru and he has you. If that’s all that this guy is after; some quick, meaningless fuck, then–
“Volleyball?” he asks, and you almost roll your eyes.
He’s not wrong, of course he’s not, and you suppose considering your connection with Iwa it makes sense that he’d make that leap, but still. One track mind, all of them.
“If I tell you, you might not like me very much,” you say in lieu of an answer.
He leans closer, the chair creaking once more. “So I’m right.” He sounds so smug about it, you almost wanna tell him he’s wrong just to mess with him a little. “What position does he play?”
Not what team, what position. That, more than anything else, mattered to him – and again, you understood it. The pride players took in their position within the machine.
 “You first,” you shoot back instead, because you feel like you have a sneaking suspicion. 
And with a little huffing laugh, he confirms it, “Setter.”
Of course.
And the smile on your face tugs wider, a strange trill running through you, “Ah, and here I thought Kageyama,” you draw the name out, “was Japan’s starting setter.”
He scoffs, dragged in by your teasing jab, “Yer kiddin’, right? Tobio’s talented an’ all, but he ain’t half the setter I am.”
Cocky and smug. You wonder if he has the skills to back it up. Yet just as you open your mouth to pry further, you’re interrupted by a voice.
Several actually. 
“Talking shit again, Miya?”
“Who’s she?”
“Oh hey – Iwa’s friend!”
And your heart skips a beat, your body tensing as those voices close in, more chairs being pulled out, trays of food dumped on the table as his teammates settle down around you. It’s just a name, one name. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t–
“Atsumu, why don’t you shut– oh. Y/N, hey. Didn’t realise you'd be here. Isn’t the village restricted to athletes only?”
Kageyama’s blunt greeting isn’t intended to be antagonistic, but it washes over you regardless. You’re frozen, heart pounding, a sick, twisting feeling settling into your gut.
Atsumu, he’d said.
Miya Atsumu. 
Two words, and your world stops spinning. 
You’d promised him – Tooru – years ago that the name on your arm didn’t mean anything. It was all just a cruel cosmic mistake because from the moment you met him, you were his, and he was yours and nothing else mattered.
And you’d told yourself that, repeated it like a mantra until you started to believe it yourself. Because Tooru loved you, you were his soulmate and what kind of horrible fucking person would you be to take that gift, that bond and shove it back in his face.
Tooru isn’t perfect, and he’d freaked out and lied to you, but he’s your soulmate. 
The name on your arm didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know whose it was, because you had Tooru. It should have been his.
And you told yourself that for six months, until some blowout fight had Tooru storming out, you following in his footsteps. 
It was a stranger, some random passerby in the street. You can’t remember what prompted you to stop her and ask, why it suddenly mattered when Tooru had all but convinced you that it didn’t, but you had.
Miya Atsumu. The pronunciation had been unsure, her tongue clunky over the foreign syllables, but in that moment when you’d heard his name every lie you’d convinced yourself of had fallen apart.
It was like you’d been drowning without ever realising it, and the second you’d heard that name a hand was dragging you up to the surface and suddenly air was flooding your lungs.
Miya Atsumu.
There are voices surrounding you, somebody laughing uproariously, but it’s all just white noise. 
“Y/N,” a choked, hoarse whisper that shouldn’t have been heard, but it pierces you like a knife, cutting through everything else. It’s too much. 
On shaking legs you stand, knocking your chair back as you grab for your cane. 
The name hadn’t mattered, until you’d heard it. He hadn’t mattered, until he was standing right there in front of you.
“I– I have to go,” you mutter, not entirely sure if they heard you, or if they even cared. You leave your food untouched on the table, stumbling as you step back.
And again, you hear that whisper of your name. There’s a hand that reaches for you – his or somebody else’s you don’t know, you shrug it off regardless. “I have to go.”
Nobody stops you as you skitter back towards the entrance, but for once the cafeteria is silent. The moment you burst out through the double doors, the brisk, summer night air hits you like a slap, and you don't realise that your cheeks are wet with tears until the breeze cuts through, the damp skin prickling uncomfortably. 
And the sob that follows rips through your chest like a knife.
This isn’t what you wanted. 
If there’s a god out there, he must have a cruel sense of humour, because your name is being called again, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek brushing at your tears, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Cutie, what’s wrong?”
The scent of him, all citrus and summer, invades your nose as you clutch at him tighter. You can’t speak, can’t find the words to tell him, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into him. 
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeats, not asking this time. 
You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to go home,” you whisper, clutching at his jersey. “I wanna go home, Tooru.”
A kiss brushes against the crown of your head, and you almost miss the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you – at least until the interloper speaks.
“You–” Atsumu breaks off, his breath ragged and raw, and you don’t miss the way that Oikawa stiffens, his grip tightening, fingers digging in. “Yer my soulmate.”
Three simple words, and everything, everything just falls apart.
Tooru snarls, taking a step back and dragging you with him. “She’s not your anything, Miya. Fuck off.”
“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”
It hurts, the grip he has on you. He’s trembling, from rage or fear you honestly don’t know, but you can feel his heart pounding a vicious beat as his arms lock around you like a cage.
“Yeah, that’s why it’s my goddamn name on her arm. Let ‘er go, yer hurting her,” he snaps. 
“She’s my soulmate, so mind your own business and run off back home.”
You can’t breathe.
“Not when yer hurting her.”
It’s like the floor’s suddenly disappeared from beneath you, and you’re in free fall, hurtling back towards god knows what. Your head’s spinning, your legs feel like jelly, and if Tooru wasn’t holding you up against him, you’re not sure you’d still be standing. 
You can’t breathe. 
“Leave, right now,” he hisses. “She’s mine. She always has been, and always will be mine!”
You’d promised him that much, hadn’t you?
“Ya don’t scare me, and I don’t give a flying fuck if yer wearing her name on your arm. That’s my soulmate, and you’ll take yer fucking hands off ‘a her.”
You can’t breathe, not as the shouting gets louder and Tooru’s grip gets tighter. 
He takes another step back, pulling you with him, and another hiccuping sob catches in your throat. You try to speak, to stop this before it gets any worse, but the words won’t come–
“You’re hurting her!”
“I LOVE HER!” he screams. “I would never, ever hurt her!”
“T–Tooru, please…” you beg. It’s little more than a whisper, and neither one of them seems to hear it.
But somebody else does. 
“Hey, hey! What the fuck are you dumbasses doing?!” 
Iwa, always your second protector, your best and oldest friend, wastes no time in getting between the two of them, shoving Miya back.
“What is wrong with you both?!” he snaps, grabbing you by the wrist and ripping you from Oikawa. And you don’t fight it when he tugs you towards him, a protective arm wrapping around your waist. 
You cling to him, like a scared child with tears streaming down your face. 
“Iwa–”
“No, shut up. I don’t wanna hear a single word out of either one of you! Not a goddamn word!”
He doesn’t bother berating them in front of you, though you know that’ll come later. He doesn’t say anything to you either, but his hand doesn’t leave yours all the way back to his apartment. Not the one in the village, but the one just outside of the city.
“You knew, didn’t you?” you ask quietly when he drops his keys on the counter.
There’s a beat of silence, and he sighs. “Yeah, I knew.”
It’s hanging in the air between you, like a dark, stormy cloud about to unleash. “Iwa,” you whisper, your bottom lip trembling once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call Makki and Mattsun and they’ll come and take you back to Sendai for a little while if that’s what you want. You don’t have to see either one of those assholes, not until…” 
Not until you figure out how you’re supposed to make this impossible choice. 
He squeezes your shoulder as you sniffle. “It’s gonna be alright, whatever you decide to do.”
Neither one of you truly believes that, but what’s left to say?
He hugs you again before he leaves, makes you promise to call if you need him, but you both know you won’t.
Not tonight, not when he has other priorities. 
And then you’re alone, sitting on his couch surrounded by blankets with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. You know you should try to get some sleep, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, but every time you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about it.
About the way Tooru’s voice had shook, how you’d smiled for Atsumu, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest when the two of you talked and you’d teased him.
And you remember how it was the day Tooru first told you that he loved you, the butterflies in your stomach the first time he’d kissed you, spinning you around and laughing as his lips met yours again and again and again. 
How he’d yelled and screamed and fallen apart in your arms that night, begging you not to leave him. 
You love him, for better or for worse, you love him. 
A loud knock echoes through the apartment, shaking you from your thoughts.
It’s almost 2am, and nobody but Iwa knows you’re here. Nobody should be knocking, and so you sit, frozen in the dark listening as your heart hammers uneasily.
One beat, then two, and then–
“I know you’re in there, just– just please. I need… I need–” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, and there’s a low thud, like his head’s fallen against the door. “Please,” he begs, quieter this time. 
There’s another thud.
“I need ya. Don’t lock me out, I’m beggin’.”
1K notes · View notes
unfoundhoney · 3 years
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toe the line ; part three ↠
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↠ slimecicle x fem!reader ; angst , the fluff will get here eventually i promise
↠ masterlist
↠ part one ; part two ; part three ; part four
↠ @ochabby @kiritokunuwu @pyrotechnics84 @nottheotheruser @d0vesatdawn @ashturnedtomist @bloopi @enderhoe @plaguenecromancer @prickypearpropaganda @phantom-aurora @starswspacey
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It’s funny how true the saying “you never miss something until it’s gone” is. If Charlie had to describe how the last two weeks have been, it’d be like that. He didn’t think it was humanly possible to miss someone so much, to actually have every second of every day be taken up by the thought of you. He’d been trying to work but with a blatant lack of you, he hadn’t been able to focus and decided to take a walk to clear his head.
It wasn’t helping.
A man walks past with a big, floofy, white dog on a leash. You would stop to ask to pet it. You always loved dogs and Charlie has no doubt in his mind that if your apartment building allowed pets, there’d be at least one living with you and him.
There’s a bookstore on the corner of a street. You would poke your head in, look around for a while and buy some novel by an author you’d never heard of. It’d probably lay unopened for a couple months until you suddenly remembered it one day and binged it in under three days.
A street musician plays across the street in a park, improving on his saxophone over a jazzy backing track. You would insist on staying to listen, waiting until he finished this song, applauding, and giving him ten dollars or so. Charlie stuffs his hands a little deeper in his pockets and keeps walking.
What was supposed to be a head-clearing (and distracting) walk has turned into the exact opposite. Charlie knows he won’t be getting any more work done today.
It starts to rain as he walks but he doesn’t head back, instead walking farther and into a different park. As it rains harder, he finds a bench to sit on. The cold and wet he finds himself submerged in distracts him better than anything else has been able to.
Water drips inside his collar and soon he finds himself soaked through. Still, he just sits there, staring straight ahead of him and focusing on the uncomfortable feeling of being fully clothed and completely wet.
He doesn’t know how long he sat there. Minutes. An hour. Two hours. But suddenly the rain stops. He’s no longer being showered with water droplets, even as the rain continues pouring all around him.
“Charlie? You okay, man?”
Charlie looks up and funnily enough, there’s Ted. He’s holding an umbrella over Charlie, looking down at him in concern. He realizes how bad this must look, sat in the rain looking dead inside.
“What’re you doing?” Ted asks slowly.
“Just... chilling.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You good?”
“I’m doing great.” He gestures generally, tries to crack a joke. “Can’t you tell?”
Ted doesn’t smile. “Dude, seriously. Are you okay?”
Charlie swallows, smile fading. He wants so badly to say “yeah, I am” and be able to mean it. He’s the one who messed everything up; he doesn’t have a right to be feeling this bad with you gone when he was the one who chased you away. And yet here he is, sitting in the rain.
“No.”
“...let’s go back to your place.”
Ted walks Charlie back home, sharing his umbrella despite the fact that Charlie is already totally soaked. Ted doesn’t seem to mind too much when Charlie drips on him; he’s likely more worried about Charlie than his left side getting a little wet.
They get back to Charlie’s apartment and Charlie changes quickly into dry clothes before joining Ted in the living room. It’s painstakingly obvious when Ted unknowingly sits in your spot.
After several minutes of awkward silence and even more awkward attempts at small talk, Ted finally asks the question he’s been meaning to for two weeks.
“How’s um... How’s Y/N?” Ted tries tentatively.
“She’s okay. Sort of. I think.”
“You think?”
“She’s kind of been avoiding me. She’s been staying at Schlatt’s for the past eleven days.”
“She has?”
“I think she needed some space, but it’s been over a week now and I’m kind of deteriorating away in the silence of our apartment alone.”
“Have you tried talking to her about... it?”
“You mean her feelings for me that she’s had for years and I’ve never noticed and then accidentally outed in front of all our friends and neither of us are sure our relationship will recover because we don’t know how to act now that we’re both aware one of us wants more than platonic friendship?”
“...yes.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“It sounds really bad when you phrase it like you just did but there’s no way around this,” Ted says. “I know how much you two care about each other. You two would be miserable without each other.”
“We- We’d be... fine.”
“That was the most unconvincing thing I have ever heard in my entire life.”
“I-“
“Not to mention the fact that you are literally living proof that you are not fine without Y/N.”
“Doctor Ted PhD is making a reappearance,” Charlie weakly tries to joke.
“Charlie.”
Ted did just find Charlie having a rather severe episode of “main character syndrome,” so there’s really no arguing with him. He is not doing fine without you. It’s only going to get worse the longer he goes without trying to reassemble the shattered pieces of your friendship.
Charlie’s will finally gives way. “I don’t know what to do, man. I fucked up so bad and now I’m terrified I’m never going to be able to get back to where we were. Everywhere I go all I can think about is her and she just- I have never been happier than I am when I’m with her and I just-... I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose her.”
Charlie buries his head in his hands, heels of his palms digging into his eyes. He’s finally letting himself be distressed over the very real possibility of losing his best friend instead of ignoring the situation entirely.
Meanwhile, Ted is connecting some very obvious dots.
“She’s all you can think about?”
“Yeah, like, I’ll just be going to the store or something and it’s like ‘oh, she’d smell those flowers,’ ‘she’d drag me to try that restaurant,’ ‘she’d go to see that movie with me.’”
“And you’re happiest with her.”
“Yeah, man. I’ve had other friends, other best friends even, but no one compares to her and how she just gets me. You’ve seen it; we have this synergy that I have never gotten with anyone else.”
“And you are very worried about the possibility of losing her.”
“...yes. Are you just repeating what I’ve said?”
“Just waiting for you to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
Ted doesn’t respond, holding the silence patiently. Charlie continues to look at him, confused. The apartment is quiet, not quite in the unbearable way it is when he’s alone but it still doesn’t feel right without you here.
For eleven days, you haven’t sung in the shower. You haven’t made breakfast just how he likes it. You haven’t distracted him from work to show him a TikTok, not that he ever minded. You haven’t fallen asleep on movie night and he’d willingly carry you to bed if you asked him sleepily, kind of wishing you’d ask him to stay with you one night.
You would grab his hand and ask him to stay. He’d do so without hesitation. Curled together under the covers, you would be close and warm and intimate in a new but welcome way. He’d hold you tight, your breath soft against his neck.
Wait.
Charlie looks up in horror. “No.”
Ted narrowly stops the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face. “Yes.”
“No. No no no, shit.”
“I am so happy I get to be here for this.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ted,” Charlie cuts him off.
He’s angry. Not at Ted but at himself. He rushes over to the door, shoving his feet back into his still-wet shoes.
“I’ve fucked up so bad. Oh my god, this is all my fault.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“God, shut up, you are not helping.”
“Sorry, just telling it like it is.”
Charlie glares at Ted. “Show yourself out.”
Charlie takes off out of the apartment without an umbrella again, completely prepared to get another set of clothes completely soaked. He prays to whatever higher power may be listening that you have the ungodly amount of forgiveness that will be needed to forgive his stupidity.
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atozfic · 3 years
Note
Drabble request: San or Seonghwa + Somnophilia. Thanks 😘
pairing. choi san x fem!reader. | warnings. step bro!san, smut, consensual somnophilia, extremely taboo relationship (step siblings), san x reader already liked each other before becoming step-siblings!!, clit play, oral (f receiving), this is honestly just plot with porn. | word count. 1.9k  | hyde’s input. ngl i wasn’t particularly comfortable writing this concept (the step-sibling shit, not the somnophilia) but i was bored and wanted to try write something out of my comfort zone. pls bully me for it x
it started out as a joke.
granted, it was never a particularly funny joke but the intention was there.
“keep looking at me like that, and i’m going to have to assume you have a crush on me, choi.” you mumble over the breakfast table, nose buried in a book and mouth full of a dry slice of toast. no sign of either of your parents in sight, both of them likely off planning their next big business move.
“i could say the same about you stealing my clothes, nerd.” anyone else would’ve mistaken his comment as a complaint, when really, it was the only way his tired-barely-awake brain could think of to acknowledge the fact you were wearing his shirt with seemingly nothing underneath, leaving his mouth to dry up every time the teasing image of your hardened nipples strained against the material.
“s-sorry! it was- my mum thought- in my washing pile-” your pretty face flushed with a look of embarrassment, and your bitten lips rushing to get out some excuse, is something san shouldn’t have had such a physical reaction, shouldn’t have used it as extra ammunition for his moments of physical privacy, a new thing to fantasize about that isn’t that same old image of you in your polka-dot bikini.
a picture taken no more than a day before his father dropped the ball, revealing not only the relationship he’d begun with your mother but the wedding just around the corner.
“relax, i’m just teasing.” neither of you mention the fact he’d said those words to you before, in the middle of a school dance, hands on your waist and lips dancing over the expanse of your neck, back in a world where you two didn’t have to pretend to play happy family. “keep it. you look better in it than i do, anyway.”
then, it becomes a bet.
a bet that lacks integrity, and class, and etiquette but a bet san has convinced himself he could be the only one to win it, for both of your sake.
“i’m telling you, it’s always the quiet ones!” wooyoung is the sloppiest drunk among his group of friends, if that’s what the eight boys truly are. at times, san believes they hung out together for the simple fact of they hate everyone else. “like whats-her-face, the quiet chick in yeosang’s chemistry class. you know, kinda awkward, on the debate team, i’m pretty sure she once tripped over her own two feet in gym class.”
“y/n?”
“y/n!” wooyoung echoes the words of the oldest in the group, and it’s right then when san feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. something about your name falling from wooyoung’s lips makes his hand curl into a fist and his eyebrows twitch into a frown. “so, yeah, like i was saying, i bet she’s a right little freak. probably into all that daddy kink shit and getting tied up.”
“dude.” san warns, not liking the way another guy has taken notice of you, even if said guy shares a tattoo with him.
“i know she’s your sister or whatever-”
“we’re not related.”
“yeah, yeah, whatever. but the fact is she’s hot and, since you’re not related, you’re free to agree with me. you can’t tell me you’ve not thought about her, bent over a table and begging for her big, strong step-bro to just touch her pu-”
“she gave me my first boner.” all heads snap to stare at jongho, the one among them who never entertained their discussions of perversion. there’s something so strange about hearing the younger one confess a sexual thing that san almost forgets who he's referring to. “freshman year, she got paired with me for some project. she kept wearing skirts and forgetting to cross her legs, and this one time she showed up without a bra on. and, i don’t know, she just smelled really nice. i ended up having to skip gym class, cause there was no way i was running with a boner.”
“ew, jjong, stop sniffing girls! that’s weird, you little perv!” wooyoung scolds but his laughter contradicts all that he says, just like the proud pats he lays against the younger one’s back.
“the first one to make a move on her gets to choose where we go for spring break.” hongjoong has never struck san as someone to make stupid choices, which is exactly the only reason why his suggestion of such a thing strikes a nerve in san.
it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact he’s been pining after you since you frightened off his bullies and kissed his scraped-up knee better in first grade.
“you losers don’t stand a chance against me and my seduction skills.” wooyoung’s shrill of fear begins the second he stops speaking, shooting up out the bean bag he’d been sat in as mingi begins to chase him around the room.
and all san can really focus on is the look of pity yunho throws his way, the only one in the room aware of how san has anonymously written you a valentine’s card every year.
while the bet among the boys continues, it becomes a challenge.
one only you two are involved in, a game only you two know how to play.
“that little shit.” wooyoung is ranting, pacing the kitchen as he spares no energy into making it less obvious that he’s staring at the couple in the corner of the living room. “he fucking knew i was gonna talk to her tonight. the ass-hat hasn’t even payed any interest to the bet before! but, no, tonight-”
san tunes him out, partly because he’s been repeating the same curses aimed seonghwa’s way for the past hour but mostly because there’s a ringing in his ear, a beat of his own heart, the rush of his own blood.
he’s seeing red, and green, and every color one can associate with the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach while he watches seonghwa’s hand curl around your cheek.
two more minutes, he tells himself. he’ll give you both two more minutes before making up some excuse about your mum calling him, demanding he drag you home from the party.
seonghwa’s eyes land on your lips. he inches closer. you press yourself flat against the wall, eyes roaming the room for the familiar sight of brown eyes and messy, overgrown black hair.
fuck two more minutes.
he’s shoved the older boy off and taking a hold of your wrist before your eyes can find him by themselves, dragging you out the house while seonghwa berates him for being a cockblock and to “stop being the overprotective brother.”
there is nothing brotherly about the anger, the jealousy, the heartbreak swirling around in his chest as he commences the drive back to your home, the four walls where all his dreams and all his nightmares are contained neatly together.
maybe he’s relieved when the engine starts to fail. maybe he’s glad it’s in the middle of nowhere, at the side of a road no one drives down. maybe he’s glad there’s not enough fuel to heat the car from the cold seeping through the window.
“you’re so pretty.” he can smell the alcohol on your breath, both of you forced to huddle close in the back of the car, dark all around you yet the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. 
“shut up and go to sleep.” his words are dismissive but a hand is rubbing over your shoulder, the only way he knows how to soothe you into sleep.
“i’m serious!” you’re persistent, and the slap you land on his chest reminds him of the summer you’d gotten to enjoy together, the summer where touching you wasn’t a sin, when he’d pick you up and dunk you in the sea only to get chastised by you and your pouts. “you’re like, prettier than most of the girls in our school. some of them were talking about how they want your eyelashes the other day.”
“maybe i am.” he shrugs, biting back a comment at how creepy wanting his eyelashes sounds. the arm he’s secured around you draws you closer and it’s like it’s summer again, instead of a cold winter. “but not prettier than you.”
and now it’s just a countdown.
he’d quickly grown accustomed to waking up next to you, forcing himself out of your bed in the early hours of the morning before either of your parents could storm in and find you two.
there’d been no rush for the past blissful week.
you’re always so warm next to him, clutching him as close as possible and whining whenever he moves away.
this morning, he’s only moving away to get closer to another part of you, hands trailing over the bumps and ridges and marks that make up your body, a masterpiece hidden under cotton sheets that he’s determined to get his fulfillment of before the day starts.
his heart jackhammers in his chest when he finds you so complacent, even while you sleep, spreading your legs and inviting him to slot himself between them. his lips are already littering pecks over your stomach, each one aiming lower, lower, lower.
he decided last night, while watching you struggle to solve a rubik’s cube, that he’s in love with you.
that he’s been in love with you, since maybe the first day, or week, or year he met you.
but right now, gripping your thighs and dipping his tongue to give an experimental lick up the expanse of your dripping core, with the knowledge of the divorce papers you’d found in your mother’s room- and the fact the business ventures together between your parents have ended, thus ending their marriage-, san feels it all over again, that twinge of hope and excitement that only comes with the security of something good about to come
you’re something good.
your hips buck up into his mouth, as if your unconscious mind is trying to remind him of the task at hand. remind him it does, tempting him to finally latch onto the sensitive bud at the top of your cunt, eyes closing and mouth moaning at the very taste of you.
one hand leaves your thigh, san too urgent to get any part of himself inside of you for his own good. when the divorce is final, he thinks, he’ll show you off to his friends, tell them they can go stick their bet up their assess and find another girl to set their sights on. 
“san...” you croak out, eyes barely even having time to open before they’re forced shut again, the unexpected pleasure of his mouth on you and two fingers curling inside of you too much to bear in your sleep-riddled mind. “good- ahh- morning to you too.”
“sorry.” he lies, he’s not sorry at all. if anything, he’s sorry he never stood up to his dad, told him to fuck off and marry someone else for business purposes, anyone other than the mother of his life-long crush. “couldn’t wait. you look too good in my clothes.”
an ironic statement, really, because he’s wishing more than anything that you’d take the damn shirt off and let him see your breasts, rising with every labored breath you pull in.
two more days.
that’s how long until his dad and your mum return from their last business trip. that’s how long until they want to have an “important family dinner.” that’s how long until you can both tell them about your own relationship.
he can last that long, especially if he gets to spend it rolling around in bed with you. hands, mouth, cock pulling out any and every blissful sigh or content moan you’re willing to throw his way.
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instasiswetrust · 3 years
Text
"Guys! Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" Dustin risks bowling over Mike, Lucas, and Will with the exuberance of his hug but there's no way he can keep quiet about this. Not after what he had done the night before. "I have a secret and I'm dying to tell somebody else."
They all seem confused for a moment before Lucas' eyes widen.
"You got Suzie pregnant?"
"What? No!" He makes a face, jokingly punching his friend on the shoulder. "Jesus, Lucas, why would you even think that?"
"If it's not that then what?" Mike sounded annoyed but then again, he kind of always sounded like that.
Dustin wasted no time in pulling out the leatherbound journal he had found the night before, leading his friends to an outcrop near the docks, shadowed by trees. He opened it to the first page, where Steve had scrawled his name in neat calligraphy.
"Is that Steve's diary? Dustin, what the hell?"
"It's from the summer of '85 guys! You know what that means?"
"Uh, that you shouldn't be reading your older brother's teenage thoughts?" Lucas fixed Dustin with a light glare, which he ignored.
"No, idiot. Summer of '85 was the last time Steve ever dated someone! You know, the same year he moved here? When mom took him in?"
"I'm not following. What does this have to do with your wedding?" Mike crossed his arms over his chest, Will peeking over Dustin's shoulder to scan the pages.
"Well, wouldn't it be nice if Steve got to be happy too? He's been taking care of me since my mom died. He's the only family I have and if Suzie and I leave the Villa, who will help him?"
Lucas and Mike don't seem convinced with Dustin's reasoning but at least they stop glaring accusingly at him. In the end, is Will who breaks the staring contest between the three of them.
"So what did you find?"
"Uh, okay so listen to this." Dustin flipped some pages from the journal stopping at a page and grinning.
I keep being surprised when Mama doesn't show up to the important events in my life but I guess I should be used to it now. Robin insists I forget her, Nancy asked if I was planning to go back, and that's when I told them about my plans. Both of them are sad to see me go, we're the Dynamos after all, but they were supportive and saw me off at the airport.
My flight did a stop in France. I met Tommy there when he confused me for one of the staff workers. He's kind of a dick but in a charming way, and he's got this adorable smattering of freckles covering his face. He told me about growing up in London and how his dad was a banker, how his mom had his whole life planned out for him as soon as he graduated from college.
We went out for a few drinks and friendly banter turned into drunk 21 questions. Tommy told me how he's always wanted to but he's never been with another guy before. And look, I'm never like this! But we were pretty drunk, and I was curious if those freckles went all the way down! So one thing led to another and we ...
"I'm not sure if I wanna keep listening to this," Lucas said, making a face.
Mike, on the other hand, took a seat next to Dustin trying to see what was written on the journal. "Well, I do."
"What's dot dot dot?" Will asked, eyebrows furrowed.
"Oh, that's just a euphemism for having sex," Dustin said waving a dismissive hand as he flipped through more pages. "Okay, okay, now listen to this."
After almost missing the ferry, I finally reached Scopello this afternoon. The turqouise waters and the approaching sunset must have been one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. I think, that maybe I could stay here. Forever. Oh, but I'm not sure, it would mean rarely seeing Robin and Nancy, dropping all dreams of singing in the big stages, all those dreams...
I don't want to worry about this now. This place is too beautiful and I want to make the most of it.
There was a storm the other night. I've been staying on a rundown farm at the edges of town and during the storm heard a loud sound downstairs. There was a horse there, probably scared from the thunder but the ceiling collapsed and I couldn't get to it. I wasn't really thinking when I decided it would be a good idea to try and run back into town to get help. Luckily, this guy had been out driving (who rides out a Camaro in a thunderstorm??) and he helped me get to the horse and calm him down.
His name is William, Billy for short (the guy, not the horse), and I've never met a guy more infuriating than him. Or as hot, either. Good gods, he looks like he walked straight out of an art museum or something.
We’ve spent this whole month together, going out to swim at the beach (he tried teaching me to surf and I almost twisted my ankle on some rocks), then to a local bar (I actually got a new job singing there, who would've thought?), some picnics. It's been awfully romantic despite Billy’s brazenness and cocksure attitude.
And I think that I... I think that I might love him.
"But if they were so into each other, what happened?" Will pipes up again, a frown on his face as he tried to read over Dustin's shoulder with little results.
"I still think you shouldn't be doing this, dude. What if Steve finds out? He's going to be so mad at you!" Lucas interjects, picking another rock from the sand and making it skip over the surface of the water.
"He would kill me for sure," Dustin shrugs, offering a toothy grin. "But only if he finds out."
"Dustin, c'mon! What happened next?" At this point Will looks like he's about to rip the journal out of his friend's hands and read it himself.
"Jesus, you're pushy. Okay, so-"
Billy's engaged. Didn't even tell me, I had to find out for myself while I was making him breakfast and accidentally stumbled over some documents he had left laying around. My chest hurts, and I haven't stopped crying since he left this morning but I'm just so angry!
Fuck, I feel so dumb. This is all my fault. All because I was being a stupid reckless little slut.
Ugh. I sound like my mom. At least Robin and Nancy called to say they would arrive this week. I've truly missed them, can't wait to see them.
The girls came to see me during one of my shifts at the bar where I was singing. Robin couldn't stop laughing at Nancy's surprised face. She thinks I've changed a lot since I left but in a good way. I don't really believe her and I think she knows that. With them here, at least the ache from Billy's departure barely makes itself present.
Oh! Before I forget to write this again, today I saw Jonathan again. He was this nice photographer who slowed the ferry's departure so I wouldn't miss it. We talked a lot on our way and he's such a nice guy. He came to the bar today and we got talking again, he asked if I would be okay with modeling for him tomorrow. Nancy and Robin insisted that I tell him yes, as a chance to try and forget Billy by "getting some".
I told them it's an awful idea but I accepted Jonathan's offer either way. He's quiet but caring, and I really enjoy talking with him. We talked about his family back in America, his mom and his little brother. Honestly, if something were to happen tomorrow, I wouldn't be opposed to it...
"Wait." Will leans back, a confused expression on his face that slowly morphs into astonishment. "Dustin, does Steve ever say the last name of this Jonathan guy?"
"Uh," Dustin frowns, flipping through the pages. "Yeah, they are here somewhere. Let me look for them."
"Will, you don't think-" Mike starts, having caught onto his best friend's train of thought.
"Jonathan took a trip to Italy when I was fifteen." He says simply, biting on the pad of his thumb.
"Oh shit." All eyes turn to Dustin who's got his eyes fixated on the journal in his lap. "Byers. The guys last name is Byers."
"Holy shit Will, your brother hooked up with Dustin's brother." Lucas tries to tamper down his laughter but it's a futile endeavor, his lips curling up before he can control them. "I can't believe this."
"But wait," Mike turns to Dustin who's expression has turned troubled. His eyes narrow. "You still haven't explained what this has to do with your wedding. What did you do?"
Dustin stays quiet for a minute or two before he lifts his gaze to his friend's, a sheepish smile on his lips. "I uh, I invited all three of them to the wedding but made it look like Steve sent the invites. And they uh... they all said yes?"
This time Lucas doesn't even bother hiding his laugh, doubling over as he nearly cackles at the stupidness of this whole situation.
"Dude, you're so fucked when Steve finds out."
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bellafarella · 3 years
Note
Fluff oh your jealous
Misc I think I just ripped my pants
Do your best bestie 😘
Thanks for prompting these bestie! <3
The sentences came from this post. This work has been added to my series: Shameless Sentence Prompts on AO3.
Fluff #5: “OH you’re jealous!”
**********************************************
You're my best friend
Ever since they moved into their apartment, Ian’s been making friends with others who live in the same building as them. Whether it’s at the gym or at the pool, he even made one in the laundry room, Ian is collecting new friends. Mickey’s happy that his husband has found other people to spend time with. What he doesn’t really like is being forced to also hang out with these people. There are just some he does not want to have to fake being nice to. The couple he met when they first got there and Mickey had what Ian now calls the pool tantrum like he’s fucking six years old and was told he had to stop playing in the pool. Mickey doesn’t remember their names but they definitely don’t care that they don’t see Mickey and only hang out with Ian. There’s also the lesbian couple that live right above them that Mickey doesn’t like either. They’re so boring, unlike any lesbian couple he’s ever seen - which is only Debbie and whatever girl of the week she’s seeing. They like to debate a lot and Mickey just can’t deal with it.
Tonight though, they’re having over this gay couple who live a few doors down. Ian met one of them by the pool - shocker - and has been hanging out with them quite a bit. They also like to garden so they go to the market together a lot and do yoga and all that boujee ass shit Mickey hates doing but does because Ian asks him to. Now Ian’s got a friend to do that with so Mickey agreed to a double date or whatever the fuck this is so that he could meet his husband’s new friend and his husband. Ian hasn’t met the husband yet either but he’s heard a lot about him from his friend and has filled Mickey in. Well, Mickey’s only half listening.
There’s a knock on the door so Ian calls from the kitchen, “Mick, get that please!”
Mickey groans as he gets up, taking his beer with him and chugging down the rest as he goes, leaving the empty can on the table. He opens the door and sees two guys. “Hey,” he nods his head to them. “Uh, come in.” He steps aside, letting them both in before closing the door.
“You must be Mickey! I’m David,” the tall, darked haired man says. “I’m the one who keeps stealing your husband away,” he adds with a laugh.
“Nice to meet you,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say and isn’t that what polite people do?
“And this is my husband, Patrick,” he says as he rubs the slightly shorter man’s broad shoulders. He has light brown hair that’s just starting to show is curly and he has these hazel eyes that look so soft.
Patrick smiles, offering his hand to Mickey. Mickey shakes it as Patrick says, “It’s nice to meet you, Mickey.”
“Yeah, you too,” he says, noticing how strong the man’s shake is.
Just then Ian comes out of the kitchen, no longer wearing that super girly apron Debbie bought them as a gag housewarming gift. He has a grin on as he makes his way over. “David!” he says walking over and hugging him. David squeezes back, eyes shutting, and his big hands rub at his back. He has four gold bands on his left hand. Fancy.
Ian gets introduced to Patrick and Mickey wanders off, taking his empty beer to the kitchen and tossing the can in the recycling. “Can I get anybody a drink?” he calls out.
“I brought a red!” David says as Mickey pokes his head out to look, seeing Patrick holding a bottle in his right hand. “Honey, go help Mickey,” he hears David tell his husband, again rubbing his shoulder. Patrick smiles at him, kisses his lips once before excusing himself and heading for the kitchen.
They nod at each other when he joins him in the kitchen. Mickey gets three glasses out for Patrick to pour them wine, as Mickey grabs another beer for himself. “Not a wine drinker?” Patrick asks, nodding to the can Mickey cracks open.
“Nah, not really,” he tells him.
“Me neither,” Patrick admits with a small chuckle.
Mickey opens the fridge and grabs another can. “Beer?” he asks him.
Patrick nods so he hands it to him. “Thanks,” Patrick says. He puts the can down, pours their husband’s a glass of wine and they each grab one and their own beers before rejoining.
David and Ian are already sitting on the sofa chatting and Ian throws his head back laughing. Mickey’s never seen Ian laugh like that in front of anyone but him and his family. He hands Ian the wine glass before sitting on the chair near him.
They do the obligatory small talk - how did you meet, how long have you been married, how long have you been together, what do you do for work. Stuff that they probably already know if Ian told David already but from their curious expressions and interest in their answers, it doesn’t seem like Ian’s gotten into much detail, not like they are now.
-
Ian made lasagna because apparently it’s Patrick’s favorite and always asks David to make it. It was really good. Ian and David go out on the balcony, leaving the screen door open only so that they could still hear them if need be. Mickey sits on the sofa with Patrick, scrolling through the channels. They both have fresh beers and Mickey finds a baseball game on so he puts that.
“You a fan?” Patrick asks, nodding to the screen.
Mickey shrugs. “Yeah, I mean I’ve never really kept up all that much. Didn’t really have a normal childhood but um, when Ian and I started dating or whatever, we used to sneak into games all the time. We were like seventeen - or well, I was, he was like fifteen or sixteen.”
Patrick has a soft smile on his face which reminds Mickey a lot of Ian, and that soft smile he gets sometimes when he looks at him. “That’s really sweet that you’ve been together for that long.”
“Had a lot of breakups and setbacks on the way,” Mickey tells him.
“But you’re here now.”
“Yeah,” Mickey smiles before rubbing at his mouth with his thumb. He clears his throat. “You a fan?”
“Oh huge fan. Used to play for my school’s team. Could have gone pro,” Patrick tells him.
“No shit,” Mickey says. “Why didn’t you?”
“Life,” he shrugs. “Responsibilities. Thoughts about what I should be instead of what I was.”
“I hear that,” Mickey says before knocking his can into Patrick’s.
-
Mickey likes Patrick. He’s not annoying. He likes sports but not obnoxiously so. He’s only come to terms with his sexuality late in life, something he can relate to. He likes math. He has a sense of humor. He likes beer. So far, this is one person in his building that he doesn’t hate.
Ian and David finally come back inside and Mickey’s laughing at Patrick’s reaction to a call made in the game. “Dude, you’re fuckin’ dramatic,” Mickey tells him.
“Pah!” Patrick makes an offended noise. “I definitely am not the dramatic one in my relationship.”
“Excuse me? What did I just walk into?” David asks, eyebrows drawn and mouth hard.
“Nothing,” Patrick tells him, pulling him down to him so he can kiss him on the lips.
David kisses him back and when he pulls away and stands back upright he says, “Mhm, sure.”
“What were you laughing about?” Ian asks as he sits in the chair next to Mickey, kicking at his foot lightly.
“Nothin’,” Mickey tells him and turns to wink at Patrick, making them both laugh and leaving their husbands confused.
“Okay, this isn’t fun for us,” David says, getting up. “More wine, Ian?”
“I’m gonna take a beer,” Ian says as he gets up, following David to the kitchen. They come back to join their husbands - Patrick now in the middle of the sofa in between David and Mickey, and Ian left to the chair next to Mickey’s side of the sofa.
Mickey finishes off his beer so he gets up, tosses it and grabs a new one before heading to their room to grab his smokes and lighter. “Either of you smoke?” he asks the new couple as he passes through the living room.
“No,” they both say.
Mickey shrugs. He’s about to light one when Ian says, “Let’s go outside for one, Mick,” getting up from his seat. “You guys don’t mind?”
“No, no, go for it,” David shoos them away so Ian and Mickey step outside on their balcony, closing the full door behind them so the smoke doesn’t go inside.
“Our fuckin’ house, could have let me smoke inside,” Mickey grumbles as he lights his smoke now, leaning against the railing and looking out over the pool.
“Would have been rude, Mick, they don’t smoke,” Ian sighs, coming next to him, close enough that their elbows are touching against the railing where they rest their arms.
“Whatever,” Mickey says through a lungful of smoke. “They’re cool,” he adds after a few quiet beats.
“Yeah?” Ian smiles, looking at his husband.
Mickey shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, Patrick is. I don’t know much about David,” he tells him.
“Ah,” Ian notes, nodding his head and turning back to face the pool again.
“What’s wrong?” Mickey asks after a minute.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not.”
“Are to. You got all quiet and you don’t usually unless you’re annoyed so just tell me what it is,” Mickey tells him. He knows Ian better than he knows himself most days.
“I don’t know - you just got like really chummy in there. I don’t know, it’s dumb,” Ian rushes to say.
“OH you’re jealous!” Mickey says, connecting the dots.
“What!?” Ian asks in that dramatic way he does. “Why would I be jealous? He’s married. We’re married.”
“You’re so jealous,” Mickey teases. He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray Ian bought so Mickey stops tossing cigarette butts out towards the pool and getting them in trouble.
“Mickey,” Ian warns.
“Are you jealous because I like him or because he likes me?”
“Both?” Ian asks with a small smile on his face.
“You’re an idiot,” Mickey laughs as Ian wraps his arms around Mickey’s shoulders and leans down, kissing him softly on the lips. Mickey holds onto Ian, pulling him in closer and sliding his tongue into his husbands mouth, showing him why he has no reason to be jealous.
There’s loud knocking on the door before it slides open. “Oh my God, we can totally leave if you two need to you know,” David says before he does some weird winking/blinking face.
Mickey knows he turns beet red, he can feel it. Ian laughs and tells David to fuck off for a second before turning back to Mickey. “Finishing this later,” he whispers. Ian winks at him before heading back inside. Mickey stays out there for another smoke, needing it after that.
-
Cuddled up and ready to pass the fuck out, Mickey lays on his back, naked, with Ian half on top of him. Mickey’s eyes are closed, waiting for sleep to come as he listens to Ian breathing, his soft, warm breath hitting his chest, and his gentle fingers tracing his name tattooed on Mickey’s chest.
“You asleep?” Ian whispers.
“Not yet,” he whispers back, turning his head slightly, Ian’s soft hair tickling his nose.
Ian lifts his head so that his chin is now digging into Mickey’s chest. He looks at him, barely any light illuminating his face, and says, “So you liked them right? Did we finally make couple friends that we can hang out with?”
Mickey chuckles softly, shaking Ian’s head since he’s still resting it on him. “They’re definitely better than anyone else you’ve made me meet but -”
Ian waits and when Mickey doesn’t continue he asks, “But what?”
Mickey sighs, shifting slightly. “I just don’t care about any of these people. I like when it’s just us.”
“Awww, Mick,” Ian coos, snuggling closer by shoving his face into his neck and kissing him all over.
“Okay, okay, okay, stop, Ian,” Mickey warns as he feels like he’s going to lose it soon, getting ticklish.
“That was so fuckin’ cute,” Ian says after he pulls back, giving Mickey some personal space.
“Not cute,” Mickey grumbles.
“You are. You want me all to yourself,” Ian says and even though Mickey can’t see it, he knows Ian has a huge fuckin’ grin on his face.
“Yeah so I actually like my husband and spending time with him, sue me,” Mickey says, making Ian laugh.
Ian tilts Mickey’s head towards him and kisses him softly. He only catches Mickey’s top lip but with some adjusting, they kiss sweetly and so filled with love. “I love you, Mickey. You’re my best friend and I love spending all my time with you,” he tells him softly.
“Okay well then I guess sometimes we can hang out with them again. Not every fuckin’ week though.”
“Deal,” Ian says before kissing his cheek loudly then getting back into position with his head on Mickey’s chest and fingers lightly tracing his tattoo.
Mickey holds him close, kissing the top of his head. “Night baby,” he whispers against his hair.
Ian kisses his chest, “Night baby.”
99 notes · View notes
intheticklecloset · 3 years
Text
I Need You (My Hero Academia)
Primary Universe
Tumblr media
Yes, I totally agree! Writing about this cute anxious boy made me so happy! Thank you for the request! Enjoy! ^^
~
I need you.
The words were typed, the cursor blinking at the end of the text. His finger hovered over the send button hesitantly. Amajiki sighed and let the phone fall to his lap. He stared at the blue sky dotted with clouds. He missed Mirio. Ever since the battle that had rescued the girl Eri, he’d been away from the campus and his friends more often.
Tamaki understood; he really did. It couldn’t be an easy thing to lose your quirk, especially when you were in the hero course and so close to going pro after graduation. But Mirio had bounced back from that with ease, and he spent time with Eri on the campus quite often nowadays. Amajiki was happy he’d been able to recover as much as possible, but still…he wished he’d come around more.
He glanced down at his darkening screen, tapping it once to light it back up.
I need you.
Did he? Or was that just his crippling anxiety telling him he couldn’t do anything on his own? Tamaki shook his head. No. It wasn’t a bad thing that he wanted to see Mirio so much. They’d been friends for years, after all.
Mustering up the one second of courage needed to send the text, Amajiki tapped the arrow to let it fly away to his friend, then set his phone back in his lap and let out another sigh. ‘Need’ was a strong word, he thought. I should have said ‘I miss you’ or ‘I want to see you, let’s hang out soon’ or something more normal. That makes me sound clingy. I should send a follow-up text—
His phone buzzed. Amajiki looked down at the screen. Mirio had replied.
Where are you? I’m on my way.
What, now? Tamaki couldn’t help but smile a little, relieved, as he told his friend where he was and then sat back to wait. Within minutes, his blonde friend was calling his name. Amajiki pulled his bag off of the seat beside him on the bench to make room, and just like that, he was no longer alone.
“Hey, Tamaki,” Mirio said brightly, smiling as always. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“That text kind of made it sound like I was in trouble, huh?” Amajiki ducked his head. “Sorry. I’m not in any danger.”
“I know. If you were you would have called me.” Mirio made himself comfortable. “But I know you, dude. It probably took you ten minutes to send me that. So what’s up?”
Amajiki glanced away, embarrassed. “I just…I miss you, that’s all. It’s really nothing.” Suddenly he felt stupid for making Mirio come all the way out here for this. “You’re not around as much, so I…”
“Oh. Man, I’m sorry,” Mirio replied quietly. “I know I’ve been kind of preoccupied with Eri, trying to figure out a way to get my quirk back.”
“I’m still really sorry about that.”
“Why? It wasn’t your fault.”
“If I could have stopped those villains faster, maybe I could have helped—”
“There was nothing you could have done.” Mirio turned in his seat so he was facing his friend. “Tamaki, I would have lost my quirk whether you were there or not. You did your part keeping those guys at bay, and that’s more than good enough for me. For everyone. You did great. Don’t beat yourself up over something you should be proud of.” When Amajiki said nothing in reply, the blonde threw his arms around him and squeezed. “Don’t forget, I may be the sun, but you’re the Suneater! You’re going to be even greater than me one day. You already are, in a lot of ways.”
“I am?” Amajiki turned his head as much as possible to look at Mirio. “Seriously? I don’t think so.”
“Well I do,” Mirio countered, “so you should believe me since I’m your best friend, right? I’m never wrong.”
“I mean…you are sometimes.”
“But not about this.”
Amajiki let himself relax as Mirio squeezed him tighter, already feeling leagues better for being this close to his friend. But being this close also reminded him of something else he’d been missing. Something Mirio had taken away with him.
“H-Hey,” he murmured, so quietly the blonde barely heard him. “Could you…um. Do you think…is it okay if…?”
He felt Mirio smile before he heard it in his voice. “You want me to tickle you?”
Amajiki cringed, mostly at himself. “Don’t say it so casually like that.”
“Why not? It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.” Mirio let one of his hands trail down his anxious friend’s side. “I’m more than happy to make you happy, Tamaki.”
Amajiki shuddered instinctively, but smiled nonetheless. This was a part of him he kept hidden from everyone but his best friend – this love for tickling. He enjoyed the way it made him smile and giggle and laugh even when that voice of doubt was telling him he didn’t deserve to. It was like a big “screw you” to his anxiety, and he enjoyed it immensely, especially with someone he trusted.
“I d-don’t deseherve you,” he managed, grinning as Mirio pulled him in closer, wrapping his arms around his torso under Tamaki’s arms, holding him in place while pressing his fingers into his ribs.
“Sure you do!” Mirio replied. “Now come on and let me hear a giggle from you, since I can’t see your smile from this angle.”
Amajiki started to protest, but the slightest increase in wiggling into his ribs made him break instantly. “N-Nehehehehehehehe!”
“There we go! That’s more like it. Are you okay like this? Are you comfortable?”
“Yehehehehes.”
“Good. Just relax.” Mirio settled in again, keeping his friend in gentle giggles as he spoke. “I’m sorry, man. I know I’ve kind of been ghosting you and Nejire lately. I really didn’t mean to. I’ve just been distracted.”
“I-It’s okahahahahahay.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve got to do better. You’re my best friends.” Mirio suddenly darted down to Tamaki’s stomach, making the usually quiet boy let out a shriek of laughter. “And you are way overdue for some serious tickling!”
“Mirio! Ahahahahahahahahahaha!” Amajiki squirmed helplessly in his friend’s grip, beaming and laughing all the while. “Thahahahahahat reheheheheally tickles!”
“And? I don’t hear you complaining about it,” Mirio teased. He chuckled. “Having fun?”
“Yohohohohohohou’re so mehehehehean,” Amajiki whined, but of course, he was lying.
“Why? Because I’m reminding you that you like it so much? You like it so much I think you missed this more than you missed me.”
“Thahahahahahahat’s not truhuhuhue!”
“I know. But it sure is fun to tease you about it.” Mirio wrapped one leg around Amajiki’s waist to hold him even more still while digging relentlessly into his stomach. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”
“Mihihihihihihihihirio!” Amajiki tossed his head back and laughed freely, wishing he could squirm but also grateful he couldn’t, grateful he was forced to stay put and feel it, feel how the playful touches made his face light up in a bright smile when not ten minutes ago he was feeling dark and depressed. “Gahahahahahahahaha! S-Stahahahahahahahaha!”
“Stop?” Mirio teased, reaching one hand down to squeeze at a thigh. “Already? But we haven’t gotten to the best part yet!”
“AIEEE!!” Tamaki shrieked, his laughter growing louder by the second. He waved his arms frantically. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
“Come on, you know how this goes.” Mirio kept squeezing, enjoying how his normally quiet friend couldn’t help but be loud now. “Tell me how awesome you are. Brag about yourself. Go on.”
“I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!!”
“Sure you can. Come on, Tamaki~” The blonde teased right into his friend’s ear. “You’d better start talking~”
“B-BUHUHUHUHUHUHUT--!!”
“But you haven’t had enough yet? That’s okay! I’ll tickle you as long as you want. After all, I’ve got all the time in the world nowadays!”
Amajiki gave up trying to protest and simply laughed, squirming every now and then but ultimately just enjoying himself, enjoying this moment with his best friend. He lasted a few more minutes before finally tapping out.
“OKAHAHAHAHAY, OKAY, STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! MIRIO!!”
“You know what you gotta do to get out of this.”
“I DOHOHOHOHOHON’T WANT TO!!”
“That’s fine. I’ll just keep tickling you, then!”
Amajiki blushed, flustered beyond belief, but also ready to call it good for now. He bit back a whine before giving in to Mirio’s demands. “I-I’M AN AHAHAHAHAWESOHOHOME H-HEHERO!! I HAHAHAHAHAVE A WHOLE F-FUHUHUHUTURE AHEHEHEHEAD OF ME!!”
Mirio grabbed onto both of his thighs now, kneading deeply. “And?”
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAND I AM THE SUHUHUHUHUNEHEHEHEATER!!” Amajiki shrieked, nearly falling off the bench in his attempts to get away from the intense sensations, laughing hysterically. “MIRIO, STOP, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”
Grinning, Mirio did as he was asked and stopped, helping his friend sit back upright on the bench while he caught his breath. The blonde watched him for a few moments before laughing himself. “You may be the Suneater,” he said, “but man, seeing you smile like that sure makes me feel warm inside.”
Amajiki let out a tired chuckle. “Cheesy.”
“But true.” Mirio nudged him. “Sorry I haven’t been around to help you out like this. I’ll do better, I promise.”
“It wasn’t just this that I missed. It’s you, Mirio.” Tamaki turned to look at him. “I hate not having you around. I need you.”
Mirio reached forward to wrap him in a giant hug. “I need you, too. Don’t you forget that.”
“I won’t.”
“But let’s be real here – you definitely missed the tickling more.”
Amajiki smiled, willing to go along with his friend’s teasing if that’s what he wanted. All that mattered to him was that he was here. “Definitely.”
212 notes · View notes
cupidsintern · 3 years
Text
wyd?
modern au, established relationship, i think nancy's gay
Steve’s on TikTok when the text comes in. He’s doing better lately, good enough that he can get baked by himself and not worry about spiraling. Instead he made a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich and listened to his most recent playlist all the way through like eight times and texted Robin for a while- she’s visiting family, lots of ‘Steve pls come rescue me pls ’- and now he’s on TikTok.
It’s not late-late. But it’s not early. And he knows Nancy and Jonathan are having issues- he heard about it from the kids who don’t get that gossip is not helpful to feelings- but he didn't know they went on a break. Until he gets the text.
10:46pm - 1 New Notification
Nancy Wheeler: Hey
Typing…
Nancy Wheeler: Haven't talked in a while. How are you?
Steve clicks the notif bar. He stares at the text. It’s not like he never talks to Nancy. She’s just not Baby <3 in his phone anymore. Hasn't been for a while. He used to wonder what Jonathan put her as in his phone.
Steve can scroll up to see previous texts- Hey i had a doctors appointment during third did you get the homework outline? And Lucas left his water bottle at our house! Mike has it with him
And, more recently: Happy Birthday! Hope it's a good one :)
But this feels different. This singular ‘hey’ in its own grey bubble kind of puts Steve on edge. He doesn't respond right away, figures he should text Robin to ask if he’s just being paranoid first but- shit she went to sleep didn't she. And while he’s typing out a “Hey when you wake up” message to Robin he gets another notif.
Nancy Wheeler: Jonathan and I are on a break
Then,
Nancy Wheeler: Sorry, I probably shouldn't be texting you haha. Just wanted some company i guess
Steve feels a hot flash of anger. Rolling in his stomach like lava. Jesus he’s too high to be this angry.
He picks up his phone again.
Types out “fuck you” and deletes it and then “thats understandable but maybe you should text one of your other friends” and then deletes it and then types out “why are you texting me we're not friends" and then deletes it and then-
Clicks back, scrolls down, and texts Billy.
You: R u still awake?
Steve gets a response within seconds.
Billy <3: aw do u miss me or smth?
Billy <3: gay
That makes Steve smile. Makes the anger cool down considerably, and he sits up a bit in bed.
You: Yes but also
You: Nancy texted me?
Billy <3: about what
Billy <3: about how she broke up with Jonathan?
You: H o w do you already know that
Billy <3: i know everything. Why’d she text you??
Steve gets another notif from Nancy. He doesn't want to open it.
Luckily, he doesn't have to right away. Billy calls him.
“No one’s home.” Is Billy's opener. “Speak freely.”
“Good evening to you too.” Steve says, relieved to have the sound of Billy’s voice to lean into.
“So what does Wheeler want?”
Steve’s thumb hesitates over the notif bar.
“She said her and Jonathan are on a break and she ‘wants company.’”
“Wow.” Steve can hear poorly concealed jealousy in Billy’s words. “That’s. Wow.”
“Don’t be j-”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Oookay.” Steve laughs a little. He still hasn't opened Nancy’s text.
“Are you going to respond?”
“No fucking way, man-” Steve starts, then another text.
Unread message: I need someone to talk to. I don’t know who else I could ask.
Steve’s brow furrows.
“What happened?” Comes Billy’s voice.
“She, uh.” Steve opens the chat finally. “Hang on.”
You: Hey
You: Seems like you're in a tough spot. Not sure I’m the right guy. Maybe you could talk about it with a closer friend?
Nancy: That’s just it.
Nancy: I don’t have any friends.
Nancy: I have no one else. Johnathon was the last person left I was close with and i fucking blew it. I have no idea what to do i'm lost and confused and i just really really could use someone to talk to.
Typing...
Nancy: Please
“Babe?” Billy again. “Yeah,” Steve exhales. “Nancy, uh. Sounds pretty bad actually.”
“She reeling you in with that act?”
“I don’t think it’s an act, Bills.” Steve sits up straighter. “Something’s wrong.”
He’s typing out a vague enough response when the next text comes in.
Nancy: I think I'm gay
Then-
Nancy: Can I call you?
I think I’m gay.
That’s. Okay. That’s… something. Something that kind of makes sense now that Steve thinks about it, connects a lot of dots Steve didn't know were floating around but.
Jesus, Nancy must be having a heart attack.
“Billy, I have to call you back.” Steve says, then realizes the kind of push back he’s going to get on that.
“Call me back?” High and mighty already. “You can't just ditch me with a ‘call you back’ when your ex is actively weedling her way-”
“She’s not weedling. She’s not doing well and she has no other friends.” Silence. “Please don’t pout-”
“I’m not pouting.”
“Aw,” Steve leans his head into the receiver a little. “If I say you look cute when you pout, will that hurt or help my case?”
“Hurt.”
“Ok, I promise I’ll call you back right after I talk to her.”
“You fucking better.”
Steve says “I love you” before he gets off the phone and is medium relieved to hear Billy say it back.
Steve calls Nancy. She takes a while to pick up. When she does, he can tell she’s been crying.
“You didn’t have to call.” Is the first thing she says. She sniffs right at the end.
“Seemed like you were having. A rough night.” Steve says. Her text hasn't fully sunk in, he’s thinking about all the times she called him crying. How they got more frequent right before the end.
“I shouldn't have bothered you, I’m sorry, you can go.” Nancy’s voice builds a little. She sounds frantic.
Steve can’t really feel soft feelings about Nancy cause all of them just piss him off or ice his blood but. He’s worried. “No, no it’s-” Then Steve hears the background noise. “Dude, are you driving?”
“I- w- yeah.” Nancy sounds a little defensive.
“Oh my god.”
“I just needed to clear my head! I know I shouldn’t have called it just…”
Steve steeled himself for the words he knew were about to come out of his mouth. No matter how much of a hothead Steve could be (not as much as Billy but still), he was still a total pushover about shit like this. “Do you. Want to come over?” Steve asked stiltedly. “If you're, you know, already driving around.”
Nancy sounded relieved when she said yes.
When Steve got outside to meet Nancy’s mom’s car’s headlights, it was raining.
“Hey,” was the first thing he said when she walked up.
Looking at Nancy doesn't do much to Steve anymore. Not the way it used to. Not the way looking at Billy does now.
Looking at Billy feels how Steve assumes people in the way-back-when felt when color TV was invented.
Nancy looks as washed out as Steve thinks she feels.
“Hi.”
“You wanna come in?”
Nancy hesitates. “I don’t. Want to impose.”
“It’s raining, Nance.”
She looks surprised, like she didn't notice. “Oh.” then. “Okay.”
Steve steps back as Nancy walks onto the smooth tile right in front of the front door. It’s quiet enough after the door closes Steve thinks he can hear her hair dripping onto the ground.
“So,” Steve says after a bit. “Did you-”
“I’m sorry.” Nancy says suddenly. But it’s not the panicked little “sorry’s” from earlier, it’s a single, earnest one.
“For what?” “Everything.” More tears are streaming down her cheeks now. “I know I shouldn't have bothered you, I didn’t- I wasn’t a good girlfriend. Or a good friend. I just. I thought maybe I would know who I was if someone else did, but I didn't. And I don’t have anyone else, and I remember when- when you told me you were bi when we were dating and I was weird about it but now i think I was just jealous- because- bec-” Nancy cut herself off, unable to keep going with the tears closing up her throat.
Steve swallowed pretty hard. “Because. You think, you’re gay?”
Nancy sat down on the floor.
“The floors all wet-”
“I know, Steve.” Nancy cut him off gently. He was familiar with the tone.
Steve looked at her, looked at the floor, and opted to sit next to her. The rain was hitting harder on the door behind them.
Nancy didn't seem like she had anything more to say. Steve tried to think of something to ask.
“Why, uh. Why do you think you are?”
“I don’t know if I am.” She said quickly.
“Why do you think you might be?”
She sighed, pushed the wet hair off her face. “You don’t have to talk to me about this. I figure it probably doesn't feel good to hear.”
Steve hadn't thought of that. If Nancy is gay, that means she probably wasn't ever actually into him. Not just after a while, but from ‘go,’ it wasn't the same for her.
“Not great.” Steve admitted. “But. It isn't about me.”
Nancy sighed again. “Why are you so nice?” She mumbled. “Both you and Jonathan.” Then she teared up again.
“I thought maybe.” Nancy started up after clearing her throat. “That I didn’t… feel as much because. I was just with the wrong person.” She glanced sideways, clearly feeling worse with every word. “But. I didn’t. I just. I felt the same. Like something was missing.”
“You always feel like that?” Steve was kind of surprised. “Like, with every relationship?”
“Romantic ones, yeah.”
The rain got louder again. “I was…” Nancy fought to say the next words. “I didn’t always feel like that.”
“With us?” Steve hopes a little. “Or with Jonathan?”
Nancy speaks a little softer, like it will soften the blow to Steve, to herself. “...With Barb.”
Billy was going to give Steve so much shit for falling for Robin and Nancy since it sounded like they were both gay. He already had gotten shit about Robin. “This is a problem unique to bisexuals.” had been Billy’s quip.
Nancy talked a bit more easily after that one admission. About why Barb's death hit her so hard. About why she felt bad for hurting Steve, how confused she was, how alone.
How she pushed everyone away except whoever held the position of boyfriend because she didn't ever feel right around people. But boyfriend seemed. Normal.
Steve was pretty familiar with feeling like he Should Do whatever was ‘normal.’ His parents weren’t exactly pleased when ‘being bi’ turned out to be an actual thing and not just a family conversation they could keep pretending they didn't have.
Nancy was crying again. Said she was sorry again.
Steve hugged her.
It was pretty awkward. He was trying not to touch her too much and her hair got his sweater wet, but she tucked her face against his chest like she always used to.
Something about that clicked. How hugs had always felt closer for them than kisses. How maybe they had been meant to be friends, and just misread the signs.
Maybe they could be friends now. Maybe.
Nancy pulled away and wiped her nose. “Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
Steve checked his phone to let Nancy fix her face a little and then winced at the sheer volume of messages from Billy that popped up on his screen.
“What’s up?’ Nancy asked, leaning back over.
“Oh, just Billy.”
“Oh god,” Nancy grimace. “He can’t have been pleased I came over.”
Steve opened the messages. “He’s not. But I told him it was important.” “You can. Tell him.” Nancy said tentatively. “If you want. About what we talked about. About me.” Billy was gonna get a kick out of this. But Steve felt more somber about it than Billy probably would.
It was weird.
He’d been in Nancy’s shoes. But he’d also been completely in love with her. So at once he was hurt and sympathetic.
But he also felt. Better.
Something about the two of them, Steve and Nancy, always seemed. Unfinished.
This was probably the close out they needed.
“I should call Billy back.”
“Of course.” Nancy looked almost embarrassed. “I can go-”
“Nah, stay a bit.” Steve was standing up, unlocking his phone to a slew of “wheeler has been on my shit list from day ONE” and “i know you’d never cheat like i know that i'm not crazy but my therapist said.” Makes Steve smile at his phone. “‘I'll make you tea or something."
66 notes · View notes
stillebesat · 3 years
Text
Meeting Virgil (5x1) -Third Time
Sanders Shorts: Remy Sanders Sides: Virgil Blurb: A Special Delivery Prequel. -Five times Remy tried to give Virgil a child and the one time he succeeded. Inspiration: @book-of-charlie​ asked: What did Virgil mean by “the last 5 times?” Fic Type: STORK!AU, Winged!Remy Chapter Warnings: Implied Neglectful Parents, Implied Miscarriage Taglist in Reblog. To Catch Up: First Time Second Time
Little Lacey was going to change the world. Remy knew it from the moment the baby girl’s eyes had lit up upon seeing him and his wings. From the second she had opened her mouth and let out the most contagious laugh he’d ever heard.
Even now, as he wound his way through the golf course parking lot crowded with stalls and people waiting for the fireworks to start on the hill above them, Lacey drew smiles from everyone standing nearby with that contagious bubbling laughter as she bounced in his arms.
He’d been tempted to put her to sleep when the twin lines of green and purple he’d been following led straight into this noisy place with music blaring, kids screaming, and the smell of popcorn and cotton candy thick in the air. First impressions with new parents hardly went well if the baby was screaming their head off after all, yet Lacey apparently loved the chaos surrounding them. She’d perked right up, her giggles ringing in his ear before he’d even landed.
There was no doubt. Despite her previous parents’ best attempts to treat her like a forgotten dusty doll in a china cabinet, Lacey thrived in having everyone’s attention focused on her. For being in the limelight. Yes. Remy knew she would change the world once she was older if the way everyone cooed -from the lady waiting in line with her son to get their face painted to the burly motorcycle dude that looked like he could tear your head off with his pinky- at her was any indication.
It was attention that Remy wasn’t exactly used to dealing with himself anymore. Usually his S.T.O.R.K. duties took him to places that were...quieter...more…secluded environments. One on Two situations where he could meet the new parents away from watching eyes, give them their new bundle of joy and then take off soon after their bond was established.
“Oh, isn’t she precious!” A grandmother cooed at Lacey, her hands twitching with the obvious old person urge to pinch the baby’s cheeks as she gave Remy a warm smile. “You’re one lucky fella having such a beautiful daughter!”
His stomach did a little uncomfortable flip flop at that. It wasn’t the first time he’d been mistaken as a parent, but it always threw him off when people assumed he was capable of such a feat when growing up it had felt like everyone expected him to die before he reached twenty.
According to Larry and Dot, however, despite the years he’d spent ferrying babies around -and getting them to their parents without issue...well, major issues-- he was still quite ‘rough around the edges.’
Ha.
He’d like to see them say that when faced with the burly motorcycle dude two stalls over. He couldn’t be that rough acting anymore.
Probably.
Maybe.
Eh.
Remy shook his head, wings twitching against his back as he grinned at the woman, glad his metallic green eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses. “She’s adorable alright, but I’m just watching her for a friend while they grab a bite to eat.” He tilted his head to the twin lines that led towards the other side of the food stalls beyond the lady as Lacey giggled in his ear, nuzzling her head into his shoulder.
The words flowed easily enough off his tongue, despite the bitter taste they left. Lying wasn’t really a thing with S.T.O.R.K.s hence his...technical truth. He was watching Lacey, though friend might be a bit strong of a word when he’d never met the parents before. But he was planning to grab some of those delectable chicken strips he could smell afterwards. So yah...basically the truth.
He was good at that.
Larry and Dot would visibly roll their eyes but quietly smile their approval at his ability to find and exploit loopholes.
The grandmother’s eyes grew softer as Lacey wiggled, reaching fingers grabbing onto the feathers her little hands could reach. “How sweet.” She murmured, placing a hand over her heart.
Did she mean Lacey or the fact Remy was ‘watching’ her? He sighed internally, keeping the smile in place with effort. He’d never been the greatest at interacting with old people who would ‘dear me’ and ‘oh my’ him to death if he accidentally slipped and swore in front of them.
“Mhmmm, if you’ll excuse me.” He gave her a nod, wings pressing harder against his back as he edged around her, waving one hand over his head like he was acknowledging someone in the distance and quickly vanished into the crowd, following the green and purple ribbons that would lead him to Lacey’s future family.
Still both glowing with the exact same shade of brightness. Still unknown just which one would end up with little Lacey’s shining personality in their lives.
Well. He paused as the two colored ribbons finally diverged. The Purple leading to the right to where the sun had just set. Green leading to the left to where hundreds of people were sitting, waiting for the show in the sky.
Both options meant still more people. But with the brightness being so close, he’d have to scope out both possibilities first before making a decision.
He exhaled, trying to remain relaxed as the crowd brushed by him, his wings trembling against his back. It wasn’t like anyone could see his wings so he had nothing to fear about being mobbed for his feathers. But still. The constant press of people unknowingly touching them had him on edge.
“Purple first.” He mumbled, adjusting his grip on Lacey as she sat back up, clapping her hands together with a squeal as he moved them closer to a brightly colored bouncy house. It wasn’t like the Edgelord would be here among the Good Old Rocky Mountains when he lived on the opposite side of the country, but it would be best to confirm that first.
With how quickly ‘Virge’ had vanished that night in the woods, it wouldn’t surprise him if the poor guy was still lost in the backwaters of Virginia.
No. Probably not. He seemed resourceful enough...unless he’d gotten himself captured by a Mothman colony--did they have colonies or were they more of a solitary creat--
Remy unexpectedly broke through the crowd, coming out where a line of porta-potties stood like quiet stinky sentinels in the fading light.
And there, right where the purple line ended, stood Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad himself in all his gothic glory. Wearing a black tank top that showed off his arms, artistically torn jeans, and purple dyed hair falling into his storm colored eyes.
Remy’s heart skipped a beat as he stumbled to a stop, rapidly blinking to clear his vision of this impossible mirage. “No. Fu--Freaking. Way.” He breathed, staring at Virge just as the guy reached down and picked up a little girl who couldn’t have been more than four or five years old, easily balancing her on his hip like he’d done this exact action multiple times before, speaking softly to her as he brushed the tears from her wet cheeks with his thumb.
Remy swallowed, bouncing Lacey as she wiggled in his grip. Lost maybe? Had to be. He couldn’t see the bonding lines between the two of them for all that Virge looked like a Father patiently calming his distressed child.
Of course, that didn’t rule out the possibility that she was his cousin, or even a niece or some kid of a friend. He would need to get closer to the girl to know for sure if there was any connection between the two.
Remy shrugged, drawing in a steadying breath. Well. Better make his move now rather than later. “Well, Laceyloo” He said, giving the girl a wink as he moved forward. “Ready to try your luck with our resident Emo?”
Didn’t the saying go that the ‘third time's the charm’ or something? With how adorably cute she was...and with how comfortable Virge seemed with this other little girl, perhaps Lacey’s laughter would be the key to convincing Dark and Brooding to accept his obviously destined role as a Father.
One could hope.
“Hey Stranger.” He called, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as the Edgelord jumped like he’d just been electrocuted, causing the little girl to cry out and cling to him as stormy grey eyes met Remy’s metallic green ones.
Virge glowered at him even as his hands moved to soothe the girl, low words leaving his lips as she buried her head against his chest, his stormy eyes only softening as Lacey sat upright in Remy’s arms and gave him a tiny wave of her hand and a delighted giggle.
“Hey.” He said, still focused on Lacey, a myriad of conflicting expressions crossing his face.
Hook.
Remy moved a deliberately casual step closer, wings fluttering with anticipation. “Fancy meeting you here.” He made a show of looking around. “Does Mothman usually attend this sort of thing?”
Virge rolled his eyes, glancing at the girl in his arms before focusing back on Remy. “Slenderman actually.”
A what? Remy paused, glancing at the sniffling girl with a raised eyebrow. “Really?” She didn’t look like a...whatever a Slenderman was.
Another thing he’d have to go look up if these encounters with V-man were gonna continue and he kept insisting on referencing random fantasy cryptid creatures that Remy had barely heard of.
That way he would be more prepared next time.
If there was a next time.
If Lacey failed to work her magic.
Which she wouldn’t.
Because she was Lacey the Amazing and this was their lucky third encounter. So of course he wouldn’t be seeing his stubborn Emo Nightmare again.
Unfortunately.
Virge snorted. “No. She wouldn’t be considered one if I was. Lily here has lost her parents. I’m helping her find them. Right Lily?”
The child glanced up, face tear-streaked, bright brown eyes shimmering with more tears waiting to fall. “They’re gone.” She whimpered.
“And we’ll find them.” Virge assured, voice going soft. “Remember? You were telling me what your Mommy was wearing. A pretty pearl necklace right? Her favorite that you can’t yet wear?”
She sniffled, nodding. “Yah.”
Remy shook his head. Well that was a helpful description.
Not.
Still. Edgelord had shown more patience with the crying kid than most strangers would in this sort of situation. “A necklace.” He repeated. “Like you’ll be able to see that in the dark.”
Virge rolled his eyes. “It’s more help than you’re currently being, Eagle One. Plus I am listening for anyone calling her name.”
“Mhmm in this crowd? The parents would need to scream quite loud.” He took another step closer, smiling as Lily and Lacey made eye contact, the baby in his arms wiggling as Lily straightened with a “Hi you!” as she waved at Lacey. “No, It sounds like you need help from an Expert.” He said, spreading out his wings, flapping them once.
A bad decision really with how many people were around that he could have hit, though the surprised sound Virge made as he lifted a hand, taking an automatic step closer as his grey eyes darted to the people continuing by made it well worth it.
He froze as Lacey laughed, making grabby hands at his wings and Lily gasped a soft “Angel?” leaving her lips, her brown eyes growing bright with awe.
A S.T.O.R.K. But he wouldn’t begrudge the child for her confusion. Remy nodded to Lily, bouncing Lacey in his arms. “I’m here to help you Lils. We’ll find your parents.”
This close he could see easily her parent line--the same Green one he’d been following earlier ironically enough, because of course it would be the same fu-freaking line he’d followed all the way here, winding its way upwind of the porta-potties to a low hill with a couple shade trees at the top. Well, if it didn’t work out with Mr. Reluctant here, at least it appeared Lily already liked her potential new baby sister if their shared giggles and fascination with his wings was anything to go by.
Virge stared beyond Remy, watching the crowd, growing more tense the longer everyone else continued walking by without reacting. “They can’t--” He whispered.
“See them? No.” Remy folded his wings, unwilling to keep them open and exposed around so many individuals now that he’d made his point. “Betcha that’s why people don’t usually see your Mothman either.” Probably. It had to be a magic related thing. Or belief thing. A blending ability? Were S.T.O.R.K.s like Mothmen? Bigfoot? Vampi--oh, yah no….his wings pressed against his back. If it turned out Vampires and Werewolves and Mothmen were actually real only then would he have a mental breakdown over maybe being in the same category as mythical creatures. Right now. He had to focus. Find Lily’s parents. Give Lacey to the Edgelord and walla. Mission accomplished.
Virge slowly shook his head, shifting Lily against his side before he rubbed the back of his neck. “No, there's been enough credible sightings of Mothmen by people to discount that theory.” He said, shrugging one shoulder. “It may explain why, when people talk about their encounters with Angels, that they rarely mention them with wings though.”
Remy rolled his eyes. “Not an Angel, V-man. I already told you. I’m a--”
“Stork. Yes. But are you sure that’s not a type of Angel?” He asked, eyes gleaming in the faint light given by the lamp posts. “You bring babies to parents who want children right? You’re willing to help me find this girl’s parents. Therefore a Stork could be a subset of Guardian Angels.”
Huh.
“...You been thinking on this alot?” Remy asked faintly.
Which One. It shouldn’t thrill him that Gothica incarnate was thinking about him. And Two. Questioning his so-called ‘Angelhood’ was definitely not going to keep him up all night regardless of how this encounter ended. An Angel? HIM?! Ha. Larry and Dot would have a conniption that their troubled ward was considered some sort of goodie two shoes Guardian Angel.
Maybe.
Else Larry would tear up, crush him in a hug, and start blubbering Dadisms of ‘being so proud’ and Dot would pat him firmly on the back and say “about time.” It was hard to tell which they’d go most days.
Remy shook his head, raising a finger and jabbing it in Edgelord’s direction. “You.” He said. “Are distracting me from helping Lily” and Lacey “find her parents. Shame. On. You.” He spread a wing towards the girl in Virge’s arms. She immediately perked up, a shy smile on her lips as she reached out to touch his feathers.
Laughter danced in Virge’s eyes as tilted his head, purple tipped bangs falling in front of them, shadowing their grey color further as he maintained eye contact, not at all distracted by the wing inches from his arm. “Oh? Then tell me, O Mighty Stork, how can you find her parents?”
“Same way I keep finding you.” Remy said with a smirk, heart fluttering in anticipation as Popsicle blanched. So close. “Not that you can see it.” He pointed to the ground where the purple ribbon still shown between Virge and Lacey and then over to the green one that also streaked from her to run parallel to Lily’s line that would lead them to her parents. “But all children have a connection between them and their parents or guardians that we,” he gestured to himself, “can see.”
Virge licked his lips, glancing to Lacey, then to the ground, his arm tightening protectively around Lily. “And Lily’s parents are?”
“Right up that hill.” He said without hesitation, pointing to where the green line led. “I can’t see who it ends at, but they are over there. I can easily reunite Lily with them, if you don’t mind holding little Lacey here for me in the meantime.” He said, his wings rising and mantling around them to block Virge’s view of anyone else as he held out the baby for him to take.
Lacey automatically reached out to her potential new Dad, making grabby hands along with a soft cooing sound demanding to be held.
Line.
Virge reached out, arm already curving to take the baby from him, only to hesitate at the last second, grey eyes flickering with shadows as he met Remy’s green ones. “That first time. When you broke into my place. You said…” He licked his lips, hand trembling as he pulled it back to hold onto Lily. “I would only have to ‘hold her and see.’ What did you mean by that?”
….Smart Fish.
Remy exhaled, shaking his head. Sinker totally sunk. Suspicious Nancy here just had to remember some off hand comment he’d made ages ago and question it.
It was times like this that he wished he could Lie to potential parents. It would make his job so much easier. But at the same time, he knew all too well that starting out a budding connection with lies would mean a crumbling family foundation later on. Best to stick to the truth to give the child the best connection with their new parents from the start.
Remy pulled Lacey back into a more steady position against his chest, soothing her disgruntled sounds as she still tried to reach out to the Emo--or maybe it was Lily she was reaching for? The other little girl was bouncing in Virge’s arms hard enough to be a workout as she stretched towards Remy.
Probably a good idea to not have those two touch just yet. He wanted to try and make the bond with Virge work first before allowing Lacey to complete the bond with Lily’s family. He shifted to keep the two out of reach from each other before speaking to Virge. “A parental bond is only established with a child in the custody of a S.T.O.R.K. when said child is touched or held by the new parent. It’s a love at first contact sort of thing.” He said, not at all surprised when the reluctant Emo took two quick steps back away from him.
Stubborn. Why was he so stubborn about this?! Shouldn’t him showing up Three Fuc--Freaking times be clear enough indication that PopStar here was meant to be a Father?!
“So~. If I were to hold Lacey for you while you helped Lily--’” Virge asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I would have killed two birds with one stone.” He said simply. “Lily would return to her parents and Lacey here would have bonded with you and you’d be her new Dad.”
Virge growled at that, eyes flashing as his shoulders hunched high enough to nearly touch his ears. “I told you before that I’m not a good Dad.” He hissed. “And yet you just tried to trick me into--”
Well most people weren’t this stupidly resistant to becoming a parent.
Remy raised an eyebrow. “Ah Huh. For some reason, LolliPop.” He gestured to Lily still comfortably resting in his arms. “I don’t believe you.”
Virgil bared his teeth, arms tightening protectively around the girl. “This is different. She’s lost! I’m not going to leave her to wander around here all alone!”
“And Lacey is different how?” Remy retorted. “She is lost, looking for a new Dad, and walla you’re here to save the bloody day!”
Virgil shook his head, taking two more steps back, nearly hitting the nearest porta-pottie. “NO.”
And just like that the Purple line fizzled, growing hazy to Remy’s sight as the Green line took on an even brighter glow.
Remy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jiminy Crickets! And he’d had such high hopes that Lacey would be the breakthrough to Virge’s reluctance in joining the Fatherhood Club. “It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, you fuc--freaking scaredy cat!” Not that he had any personal experience in it, but he’d seen it. Seen how happy the men were to become fathers once the bond was established. “I don’t make mistakes in this. You’d be an excellent Dad no matter your doubts. I wouldn’t be here talking to you otherwise!”
“You don’t know that!!” Virgil retorted, a tint of panic to his voice. “You can’t! How can I believe some guy showing up with a random baby in his arms--you could have kidnapped her for all I--”
“You’ve seen my wings.” Remy interrupted, spreading them out and flapping them for emphasis. “Obviously I’m not exactly some guy. I don’t kidnap babies. I rescue them from bad situations and take them to better ones. That’s what a S.T.O.R.K. does!”
“I can’t--”
“You’ll have to at some point.” Remy snapped. “I’m going to keep coming to you until you do. You do realize that right? You’re marked for Fatherhood and if it’s not me that can get that through your thick skull it will be a different S.T.O.R.K. who does.”
Virge violently shook his head. “No. I’m not--”
“A good Dad. I know. I’ve heard.” Remy rolled his eyes, snapping his wings shut as he turned away to follow the green line, adjusting as Lacey twisted in his arms trying to look behind them. “I still don’t believe you.” But it was obvious by how the purple line had faded to nearly nothing that Lacey wouldn’t end up as the Edgelord’s kid.
A pity. The dude could use some serious laughter in his life. Bright and bubbly like little Lacey’s. Too bad he was apparently immune to her charm.
“...Where are you going?”
Remy fought back the urge to snarl. “To take Lacey here to her next best option, which funnily enough is Lily’s parents so are you coming with me to reunite them or not?” At least he already knew that Lily would get along with Lacey. One hurdle gone in that regard.
Virge made a noise of surprise. “They lost their child and you’re taking another to them---”
“Mistakes happen.” Remy said shortly, glancing over his shoulder. “No one can be the perfect parent 24/7. It’s impossible. You get distracted at the wrong moment and walla your child has slipped away. Or you think someone else is watching them while they think you’re watching them and no one questions why they haven’t seen the kid recently. it---her parent line is still bright, Virge.” He looked away as Mr. Reluctant caught up and fell in step with him. “They aren’t horrible bad people just because they lost her tonight. They love her. No doubt about it.”
And if Cynical Gothica was so concerned about them and their parenting skills then he should have said YES to being the Dad to Lacey before his purple line had fizzled out!
Virge ducked his head, shoulders hunching as he brushed Lily’s hair out of her eyes. “...Okay.” He mumbled a dozen steps later. “But what if they--they loved--love her, but…but did something---what if something happened to hurt her? Badly? And they couldn’t--what if it’s not fix--fixable? What then? Would you really--”
Remy stopped just short of cresting the hill, wings prickling, goosebumps on his arms sending a chill through him as he turned back to Virge. This. He could sense. Was important.
“Mistakes happen, V.” He repeated in a softer tone. “Whatever mistake you think you’ve made that you think disqualifies you from ever becoming a Father…” He stretched out a wing, brushing the Emo’s cheek, causing him to look up, eyes so soft and vulnerable that it made Remy’s chest ache. “It’s not an unforgivable one. Again. I wouldn’t be here if it were.”
People changed. People could become better than they were. Whatever had happened in the Edgelord’s past wasn’t a deal breaker to the S.T.O.R.K.s. The three times he’d shown up in his presence had to be some sort of proof. He’d never heard of someone refusing parenthood before, but the fact that Remy kept returning, the fact that Virge kept coming up as an option in the first place, had to mean something.
V bit his lip, eyes troubled as he looked to Lacey then back to Remy, the purple ribbon connecting the two flickering like a sputtering candle. “I’m not--” He whispered.
Remy let out a slow breath, well aware that his wing was still touching his cheek, but unwilling to pull away just yet. “It’s something to think on, Virge O’Doom.” He said, voice still soft. “Once is a Chance, Twice a Coincidence, Thrice? It’s a Pattern. It’s just a matter of deciding if you’re ready when I come back a Fourth time.”
As much as he wanted to convince him and make it to work between Lacey and the Emo...the line had already fuzzed once. He didn’t want Virge to have any doubts in this.
“LILY?!” A shrill woman’s voice suddenly rang through the air, breaking the tension between them like a snapped wire. “LILY WHERE ARE YOU?!”
“LILYLOO?” A man called out, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Lily?! Has anyone seen my daughter?!”
Remy smirked, pulling his wing back and raising an eyebrow to Virge as Lily jerked upright at her name, nearly pulling free from his grip in the process. “See? Not bad parents.”
Virge drew in a visibly shaky breath, his arms tightening around the little girl. “Right.”
“MOMMY!” Lily cried, wiggling to get free. “DADDY!”
“We got her!” Remy called, using his wing to push Mr. Reluctant forward up the hill, pitching his voice so it would carry to the frantic parents. “Over here!” He raised his free hand, waving to draw their attention as he moved his other wing to cover Lacey, hiding her from their view for now.
“Oh, Lily!” Her mother rushed forward wild curly hair streaming behind her like a banner, pulling her free from Virge’s grip with little effort to smother her with kisses. “Don’t scare me like that.”
Lily wrapped her arms around her Mother, burying her head against her chest. “Sorry Momma,” She whimpered.
“Where was she?” Her father asked, hovering anxiously behind his wife. His fingers running through his daughter’s hair.
“By the bathrooms.” Virge said, shuffling awkwardly in place. “She was crying, so we---” He gestured to Remy and himself. “Were helping her find you.”
We? Nope nope. “Pretty sure that was all you.” Remy muttered under his breath, shifting as Lacey wiggled in his grip, trying to peer out from around his wing. He would have never been aware of the girl’s situation if Castlevania hadn’t taken the initiative. His job usually involved helping unloved kids. Not loved ones. Even if they were lost.
“Lily,” Her mother scolded in a soft tone, lifting up her chin. “You know you need one of us to go with you.”
The girl sniffed, eyes welling with tears. “But I’m a big girl! I can go by myself! I’m no baby.”
Grief flashed across the Mom’s face, one hand dropping to her stomach before quickly rising back to cradle the back of Lily’s head.
Ah. Remy straightened, light green dust swirling at his fingertips as recognition flashed through him. He’d seen that particular look hundreds of times before from mothers who’d lost a babe in the womb. He’d bet his sunglasses that the baby would have been the same age as little Lacey here had they survived to full term, hence why the line was so bright. Lacey could easily slip into the family like she’d always been a part of them.
“That may be.” Her husband said, taking the opportunity to pull Lily into his arms, squeezing her tight as he gave his wife a concerned look, his own eyes showing a hint of grief as well. “But you know how your mother worries about you.”
“So much, baby girl. So much. If I lost you too-” Her voice hitched as she abruptly cut off, bowing her head, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“But you didn’t.” Remy said soothingly as he moved closer to the family, fingers of his free hand twisting to scatter green dust around them so that any nosy viewers would stop paying attention now that the little family reunion was complete. “Everyone is safe and sound. No harm done.” He pulled back his wing back to reveal baby Lacey, purposely brushing his feathers along her neck, causing her to break into soft laughter, twisting in his arms from the tickling sensation.
The Mother looked up at the sound, mouth dropping open. “Oh.” She breathed, clasping her hands over her heart, eyes shimmering as she stared at Lacey. “She’s--”
“Cute right?” Remy asked, holding her out in an unspoken invitation to hold her.
Unlike Virge, the Scrooge of Fatherhood, hovering beside him, she didn’t hesitate. She reached out to gently take Lacey into her arms, a hidden weight vanishing from her shoulders as Lacey giggled, nuzzling her face against the Mother’s neck, tiny fingers gripping onto her shirt.
“She’s absolutely precious.” She murmured, pressing a kiss into her thick hair. “What’s her name?”
“Lacey.” Remy said simply, the tip of his wing stretching out to push the Father and Lily closer to them.
“Lacey.” The Father repeated, moving to her side, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched his wife slowly rock the baby back and forth. “An L name.” He reached out, running a hand down Lacey’s back, causing the green line in Remy’s sight to flash twice indicating the parental bond had been accepted. “Just like Lily’s.”
Perfect. Remy exhaled, snapping out his wing to block Virge just as he tried to interrupt the moment.
Idiot.
Remy grabbed him by the arm, dragging him away as his wings fluttered, sending more light green sparks swirling away to settle around the newly expanded family, ensuring that Lacey would be able to bond with them in peace without further interruption.
Virge struggled, twisting in Remy’s grip, unable to break free as the first set of fireworks burst in the sky overhead. “That’s it?! You can’t seriously just--”
Remy rolled his eyes. “Can. Did. Bought the T-Shirt.” Or food. Could he still get his chicken strips if the fireworks had already started? Probably not. That was disappointing.
“Seriously?! You can’t just drop off a baby and leave!”
Funny. Remy pulled them to a stop at the bottom of the hill, mantling his wings so that Virge stood in his shadow. “I’m a S.T.O.R.K., Grimm Reaper. You do remember what that means right? Leaving babies on doorsteps is kinda the whole jig.”
Virge bristled, not at all intimidated. “But you just left her!”
Must be all those Mothman encounters. Remy crossed his arms. “In good hands, Virgeroo. Not all parents need me to stick around once I give them a child.” Thankfully. He hated dealing with the ones who had a million and six impossible questions they wanted answered. But he wasn’t actually going to leave little Lacey there just like that. What sort of S.T.O.R.K. would he be to literally just dump a child in a lady’s arms and leave?
He’d double back around to check in once he was sure Virge wouldn’t go try to find them and ruin everything.
“But!”
“No.”
EmoDramatic threw up his hands. “How will they explain this though? Going to a fireworks show with one child and coming home with two!”
Remy spread his arms, wiggling his fingers. “Maaagiic~.” He smirked, snapping his wings shut. “They can explain it however they want.” The bond would ensure that whatever reason they gave for suddenly having another child, it would be believed by those who heard it. “It’s not your concern.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, brushing past him.
Not until Mr. Not-a-Good-Dad accepted his fate at least. And who knew when that would happen. Would his curiosity help spur him into taking that final step?
Virge whirled with him, fingers brushing his wing before landing on his arm, sending a shiver down Remy’s spine. “I don’t understand.”
“And you won’t, LolliPop.” Remy shrugged free from his grip, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. “Not until you say yes to Dadhood. That’s another thing you can think on until I see you next.” He gave his Edgelord a two fingered salute as he jumped into the air, shimmering dust whirling around him helping him to vanish from view as a series of green and purple fireworks exploded overhead.
To Be Continued.
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snackleggg · 3 years
Text
City of splintering hopes: Chapter 2 "Cave of stars"
~~~
Ao3
~~~
Danny woke up Saturday morning feeling well rested and refreshed, so he was immediately suspicious about what the day would bring. The last time he had woken up feeling so well was before The accident so roughly 2 years of either nightmares, insomnia, or a ghost waking him had him jumpy at the prospect of a good night's sleep.
He did all his usual checks to make sure nothing was wrong but as he headed down for breakfast it seemed that everything was perfectly fine. Suspicious.
Danny just shrugged though as he ate his almost certainly ecto-contaminated cereal before leaving the house as quickly as possible to avoid helping his parents test any new inventions. Of course he always kept an eye on whatever they were creating, in case it was anything actually dangerous he would need to destroy but the day had started suspiciously well and he wanted to keep that good times streak going for as long as possible. Not getting hit in the head with the boo-merang was something he was eager to do.
He quickly met up with Tucker and Sam at the Nasty burger but as they talked about school and which ghosts they were betting on appearing today Danny felt weighed down as the events of yesterday found their way back to the forefront of his thoughts.
"Hey, earth to Danny" Sam said, snapping her fingers infront of his face. Oh, he must have spaced out.
"We know you wanna be an astronaut dude but don't you think it's a little early?" Tucker joked between stuffing his face full of fries.
Danny chuckled at his friends attempt at humor but it came out more forced than anything "Sorry, just thinking about some stuff. Can I get your guys opinion on something?" Danny asked and both Sam and Tucker gave him their full attention as he started explaining what had happened yesterday.
At the end of the recounting Tucker exclaimed "Yes! You should totally go!" Loud enough to get a few heads turned but he quieted himself down and soon everyone at the fast food joint was once again minding their own business.
"It does sound like a good opportunity. Plus it's not like anything bad is guaranteed to happen. My prediction is worst case scenario you come back with nothing new" Sam said with a shrug.
"Yeah, I guess your right. I mean it's just some old abandoned buildings and stuff they might've left behind, nothing that can hurt right?" Danny reasoned, finally he was starting to get over his slight paranoia.
"Exactly! But if you do find anything cool be sure to tell us about it" Tucker added and Danny nodded along. Of course he would tell his friends, they knew pretty much everything about eachother and would always come to eachother when they needed to talk to someone.
"Well if you want to go today then you should get going, the Far Frozen is a 2 hour flight and you don't know how long you'll need to travel from there to get to these ruins" Sam said. Danny had also explained to them his feelings on not wanting to wait too long if he did decide to go and she could tell that Danny's curiosity that he inherited from his parents wouldn't let him just walk away from this one.
"Oh, yeah you're right!" Danny shot up but before he could move he looked at his two friends with concern "You guys gonna be okay protecting Amity on your own?" Danny asked.
"It's all good. We have our thermos' and some Fenton anti-ghost weapons that actually work so we should be fine!" Tucker waved off Danny's concerns.
"But, if anything does happen that we can't handle well call you. That ease your worries?" Sam asked with a smirk and Danny rolled his eyes fondly before waving goodbye and heading home.
It was the same as what he did yesterday. Go through the portal invisibly, make the long fly to the Far Frozen and go see Frostbite. Of course now it was for different reasons than a check up or just the usual friendly visit.
Danny's thoughts had nearly spiralled three times on the flight over to the Far Frozen but he had been getting better at grounding himself so he managed to catch any worries or doubts that may have caused him to turn around.
Finally he landed in the freezing tundra and almost immediately was engulfed in a hug from the large Yeti. His white fur made him blend into the surroundings so well Danny hadn't spotted him initially.
"Great One!" Frostbite yelled happily as he put Danny back down. It didn't matter how many times or how often Danny visited Frostbite was always ecstatic to see him.
"Hey Frosty" Danny gave his old mentor a smile before awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had for as long as he could remember.
"Have you... thought about what I suggested?" Frostbite asked, immediately understanding why Danny was here. It was always easy to forget that Frostbite was alot smarter than he seemed, he had given Danny wise words of advice on more than one occasion and it was obvious when he was around his tribe how great his leadership skills were.
"Yeah I have and... do you think you could? Take me to the ruins? I want to know more about people like me and this might be the only way..." Danny rambled a little. He didn't know why he felt like he needed to justify himself to Frostbite. Frostbite knew why he was here already, he had suggested it, so why did Danny feel like this was something he needed an excuse for?
"Of course. I can't show you to the ruins themselves unfortunately but I can show you how to get to them" Frostbite said as he turned around and started walking away from Danny, making a 'follow me' gesture.
Danny was as stiff as a board as he followed Frostbite. Hypervigilant and examining all his surroundings closely like he expected something to jump out and attack him.
They walked down a path Danny hadn't seen before, it lead away from where Danny knew the Yeti tribe to be living, leading further and further into the tundra and up the ice mountains.
After maybe around an hour of walking in silence, only the wind and crunch of snow under their feet filling it, they came to a stop on the mountain side. Infront of them stood a large entrance to a very dark cave.
"Through here, on the other side are the ruins" Frostbite gestured and seemed to wait for Danny to go in but Danny hesitated.
"Why can't you lead me the rest of the way?" He asked.
"This cave leads to the hidden lands, as some call them, it is where the Halfas once lived. Only a Halfa or those given special permission to pass can make it through the labyrinth of the cave, I have tried but I always end up coming back out this side despite never remembering turning around" Frostbite explained and Danny just gulped nervously.
"If only a Halfa could get through then how did Pariah Dark attack the Halfas, shouldn't they have been safe in these 'Hidden lands'?" Danny asked nervously.
"I... do not know. Many of the allies of the Halfas thought the same thing. There was a legend- no, a rumour that a ghost that had the ability to track Halfas helped Pariah Dark but that's all that was, a rumour" Frostbite shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face.
Danny nerves weren't calming down but something in his core urged him to go through the cave. He didn't know what it was but ever since The accident Danny's instincts had always been trustworthy so he took a steadying breath before walking forward into the cave.
He heard Frostbite wish him good luck as he entered.
The cave was alot warmer than he was expecting. Of course thanks to his ice core he couldn't get cold necessarily but the change in temperature didn't go unnoticed by him. The light from the snow white tundra quickly disappeared the further in he went until he was engulfed in complete darkness, apart from the soft glow he himself was giving off. The sounds of the howling winds had faded until they could barely be heard anymore and Danny was really considering turning around and leaving because the idea of stumbling around in a dark labyrinth cave wasn't exactly the most appealing.
Then he blinked as he noticed something, a light.
Not really it was more like a dot, a small dot of light in the dark.
He decided to continue walking and the longer he walked the more of these small dots of the light appeared until there were so many it lit up the icy cave in a pale glow, the lights all reflecting off of the ice.
Danny stopped as he stared in wonder at the sight.
The first thing that came to Danny's mind were the stars, the night sky. It was beautiful how the small points of light work together to illuminate the dark cave.
Then Danny noticed something as he continued walking. The dots were disappearing behind him but appearing infront of him as he walked. Then he took a turn and the dots stopped appearing.
"Huh..." Danny backtracked and took the other turn. The dots started appearing again, lighting the way for the young Halfa.
"Cool" Danny whispered into the silence of the cave was he followed the direction of the dots of light. Finally Danny turned a corner and he saw the end of the cave, an end that even from the distance Danny could tell didn't lead out into the cold tundra of the Far Frozen. As he closed the distance he could see the green swirling clouds of ectoplasm only they were lighter? A much lighter green than that of the normal sky of the Ghost Zone.
Finally Danny exited the cave and found his core humming nicely at the sight before him.
A city.
A large and grand one, made of a pale sandy coloured stone that reminded Danny of the housing they had in Egypt. The city was still a distance away so Danny couldn't see the architecture too closely but he could see a path leading down the no longer snowy mountain side to a bridge between the city and the cliff drop of the mountain.
A strange thing Danny noticed was the fact that the city didn't rest on an island that was floating, suspended in mid air. Instead the island stretched downwards into the dark abyss of the Ghost Zone, as if connected to solid ground all the way down in it's depths.
Danny was ecstatic.
He quickly flew down to the bridge, and walked it's length up to the gates of the city.
Standing at the city's ground level made it all the more grand and imposing.
But it also made Danny now notice the ruins part of it. The gate, that Danny had no doubt was once grand and tall standing, was nothing but rubble and fallen stone.
Danny took a fortifying breath.
Up until then Danny hadn't really thought about what he was truly walking into. This wasn't just a museum or some natural history tour. These were ruins, this was the home of a slaughter people. This place wasn't just their home, it was probably their grave as well.
He needed to be careful.
He couldn't go walking into this like a naive child, he came here to understand and to understand he needed to treat this place with the respect it deserved.
So he flew into the city, hopefully he could learn something from what was left behind.
~~~
First | Previous | Next
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I'll be tagging all content do to with this story with the tag City of splintering hopes so if guys want to you can follow the story easier. You can also use that tag for any questions or content you guys make of the story!
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mediocre-writerr · 3 years
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feel something [leah rilke]
leah rilke x fem reader
requested #1: Hi. Can I request a fem!reader x Leah fic where reader gets hurt and Leah gets kind of protective afterwards. Thank you!
requested #2: Part two of that Leah x insomniac reader please!!!!! Maybe one where the girls see just how bad her hero complex is
Pt.1
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This wasn’t the first time you’ve almost died on this trip. 
According to Nora, you’v been here for 22 days. And you’ve died almost four times since then. Much to Leah, Shelby, and literally all the other girls disappointment. 
The first time was after your first actual sleep with Leah. You were climbing up the mountain with Rachel, Shelby, and Leah when the mirror started slipping off the mountain. And without thinking you decided to dive and try to save it.
“Y/N!” Leah yells as you reach for Fatin’s mirror. 
“Jesus Y/N!” Shelby yells, “Get up! It’s just a mirror!”
“No we need it to call help!” you reply in between gritted teeth. 
Shelby yells, “We’ll figure it out another way please!” 
The mirror falls off the cliff and you smack your hand on the hard dirt, “Fuck!” 
The three girls drag you back onto a more steady surface. You look down at your scratched up hand and sigh.
“Are you kidding me right now?” Shelby whispers, staring at you incredulously.
“I was just trying to help.” you mumble, continuing to stare at your hand. 
“Help us what?!” the blonde scolds, “Help us extend our graveyard?!” 
You knew why she was so upset. Back home it was always you, Shelby, and Becca. But ever since Becca was gone, Shelby became more protective of you than she already was. She couldn’t lose someone else.
“I’m sorry.” 
Her eyes softens. “It’s okay. Just please be more careful.” 
While Shelby got over it, Leah was shaken up on the thought of losing you. She thought it was ridiculous you two just met, but she never felt so drawn to someone one.
Not since Jefferey. 
She threw her arms around you. And you immediately reciprocated the hug, wrapping your arms around her waist.
“I’m okay Leah,” you whisper softly.
The next time it happened was a few days after that. You managed to keep your sleep schedule straight with the help of Leah, but again almost died. 
Overexertion is what the girls like to call it. But you like to call it putting in 100% effort to help everyone else survive. This one wasn’t too serious, just passing out and being lost for a few hours.
No biggie really.
You wouldn’t necessarily count this one as a near death experience, but Nora insists. Because if they didn’t find you wild animals could’ve probably eaten me.
After that Leah made sure you ate and drank as much as possible. When the girls found out you were skipping out on food, so there was more for them to eat they scolded you. 
“Dude you need to eat!” Toni yells, after they bring you back to the camp.
“I thought everyone else deserved more food than me.” you say. 
Toni scoffs, but Fatin cuts into the conversation, “And we really appreciate that you’re trying to help, but you need to take care of yourself too.” 
“What is this some intervention?” you ask, jokingly, but all of their faces were serious, “Oh you’re being serious.” 
“Hell yeah we are!” Rachel yells.
“Y/N, you can’t keep putting yourself in life or death situations. We’ve cheated death once. You continuing to do it will kill you one day!” Toni says and you look down at your feet. 
Leah was quiet for the rest of the time that night. She would just stare out at the ocean, lost in her own thoughts. You knew she was mad at you, but there wasn’t much you can actually do. 
You thought she wasn’t gonna talk to you or even interact with you for that matter, but she put her head on your shoulder and nuzzled into your neck. You gently rest your head on top of hers.
Hesitantly, you turn your head ever so slightly placing a kiss to the top of her head. And you couldn’t see it, but Leah was smiling probably wider than she has ever smiled in the past couple months.
The third time was a little more scary for not only the girls, but for you. It was the next night. 
The tides were rising higher than they ever did before. Crashing hard and fast, it was like a mini tsunami. The girls were all freaking out trying their best to hold in so they wouldn’t get swept away. 
“Is everyone okay?” you yell above all the screaming, “Dot! Can you do a head count?” 
“Shelby?” Dot yells.
“Right here!” her Texas accent comes through and I release a sigh of relief.
“Leah?!” Dot yells out again and your heart dropped into your stomach.
“I’m over here!” her voice called out, but it was distant. 
You turned your head, searching everywhere for her voice to see that she climbed up onto the cliffs. You let out another sigh of relief.
In the distance, you could see Fatin trying to grab the rest of her luggage. And she seemed to have had a hold on it when a wave came crashing in, as she disappeared from view.  
“Fuck Fatin!!” you yell and it gets all of the girls attention.
You finally see her as she starts to drift off a little by the riptide. And without hesitation you immediately took off running, taking off your shirt, shoes, and jeans in the process. 
“Y/N! No!” Dot yells.
But it was too late you were already swimming against the current. It was tiring to say the least, but you had to get to Fatin. Your arms and legs were burning, but all you could think about was helping her.
You finally got to Fatin and pulled her and her suitcase in front of you. She was floating on top of it, trying to stay above the water. You pushed her suitcase as you tried your best to get back to shore without getting swept back. 
Just as you’re about to reach shore another huge wave came crashing down. With one last push you pushed Fatin further causing her to reach the shore. And you? Sucked back in right where Fatin was.
It was getting too tiring, swimming back. You were about to give up when you heard Shelby’s voice come from the shore.
“No fucking way! You’re not giving up right now!” she yells at you and she could  how you stopped treading water and just floated. You were too tired and your arms and legs felt like they were about to fall off, “If God brought us to it, God will bring us through it! So push Y/N!” 
Your whole demeanor changed hearing those words. It’s something you, Shelby, and Becca said to each other whenever one of us had a bad day or needed some inspiration. 
So you pushed and pushed until you finally got back. 
Breathless and tired, you laid on the cool sand. Coughing up a storm at the very least. 
“Y/N!” Leah says, rushing over to your side immediately.
She immediately grabs my dry clothes and throw them over me. Leah scoops me into her arms and places me onto her lap. She rubs my back softly as I continue to cough up a lung. 
“You’re an idiot.” Dot says bluntly, but a relieved smile was on her face.
You chuckled softly, “Someone had to go save her.” 
The rest of the time following Leah never left your side. She watched you eat and drink. Yelled at you to take your breaks when needed and kept you sane. 
And if any sort of danger arises, she grabs my wrist and pulls you to sit back down. 
Now here you were day 22, finding yourself risking your life for yet another time. And by the looks of the situation probably your last. 
After the tide swept away your shelter, you decided to make another one. A bigger one. But as the odds like to have it lightning struck down causing to catch on fire in the middle of the night. 
Dot was doing yet another headcount, “Shelby? Where’s Shelby?!” 
You look around frantically desperate to find your best friend. Leah was right by your side, so you knew she was okay.
“Help me!” you hear the blonde call out and you knew immediately where the sound was coming from. 
The fucking shelter. 
Leah saw the look in your eye and right when you were about to take off running she grabbed your arm, “No, you can’t. That’s a death wish going in there!” she exclaims.
“Leah, she’s my best friend,” you whisper softly, “I can’t let her die.” 
“If you go in there, I will never forgive you.” she states, a serious look in those blue eyes. 
Your eyes soften, but you take your hands and cup her cheeks lightly. You close the distance between the two of you. When Leah kisses back, you can feel tear drops fall onto your cheeks. 
“I’m sorry.” you state as you pull apart, before taking off running for shelter.
Once you made it in the small, really hot space, you saw Shelby trapped underneath a pile of burning wood.
“It hurts so bad Y/N!” she exclaims and you know she’ll definitely have some burns. 
“I know Shelb, I know. I’m right here. We’re gonna get you out of here okay?” you say and she nods her head.
There was only one way out and if you pull Shelby out of the burning wood this whole thing can go collapsing on top of you. But what other choice do we have? She can’t walk so either way you would have to drag or carry her out.
“Come on Y/N, think. Think!” you yell to yourself as the exhaustion starts to build up in your chest.
From all the smoke you continued to cough and cough. If you didn’t get her and you out of there now, you might as well be dead.
“Y/N look at me.” Shelby whispers and you finally look at her, “If God brough us to it?”
“God will bring us through it.” you whisper back, nodding at her.
You squatted down in front of her, “I need you to wrap your arms around my neck, like a piggy back ride.” 
She follows suit, “Okay done.” 
“Once we pull you out from underneath there, I need you to wrap your legs around me. It’s gonna hurt, but it’ll be needed.” you say in between coughs, “Now all we have to do it take that leap of faith. Ready?” 
“Yeah.” she whispers.
You pull her out of the burning wood causing her to groan out in pain. And the building started caving in on top of each other. But as if you had real life super powers you ran out of the place as fast you could. 
Barely making it out of there on time as the two of you trip and fell over a log that was outside. 
“Shelb? Are you okay?” you say in a fit of coughs. 
“Yeah, my leg just really hurts.” she replies.
You immediately get up in the midst of your coughing fit to pick her up bridal style. Walking the little ways back to camp, you could see the girls’ faces lighten up. 
And when your eyes landed on Leah you could see how red and puffy her face was. Your heart dropped in your chest once more as you saw the worried features on her face.
“Dot I need you to tend to her burns before they get infected.” you say in between coughs.
Your lungs felt like they were on fire right now, “What about you? What do you need?” Dot asks. 
But you just cough into your hand, shooing her away to go take care of Shelby. You were fine, Shelby needed the most help. And as you were walking to go sit down, the world started spinning and everything went black.
“Come on Y/N. I need you.” you hear a voice whisper, awaking you slightly from your sleep. 
Your head was lying in someone’s lap and your eyes fluttered open to see Leah staring back at you. The sun now shining down upon the crazy beach. 
“Hey, you’re awake.” she whispers, leaning down to hold you tightly, “We thought we lost you. I thought you were gone.” she replies.
You cup her face lightly, “I’m right here. I’m sorry.” 
“You can’t do this Y/N. You can’t keep trying to kill yourself! I need you. Please. I need you. You can’t-you can’t leave me.” Leah starts to cry and you do your best to wipe away all the tears.
“I’m not going anywhere okay? I’m staying right here.” you say softly, trying to soothe her worries.
She nods, “Promise me?” she whispers her voice practically begging you to promise her.
“I promise.” 
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All The Hurt - Chapter 5
Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader
Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”
Word count: 2.5k
A/N: had to make this one short because the next one is hella long
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“Phew, all right,” you wheezed through fast pants as you finally reached the computer room, hand numb and aching from the dripping ice pack in your palm, “you need to explain to me what’s happening. Because- man, I’m out of shape.” You placed your hands on your hips and bent slightly for a moment, taking a huge gulp of air before marching over to Ned and giving him the pack, “I’m confused as fuck, Ned.”
One of his hands continued its work while the other reached out to grab the pack. His fingers continued to type away with speed you’d never seen before as he spoke, eyes never leaving the screen, "Okay, long story short, the day you were at the bodega-” you flinched, “-was the same day that bank was robbed using high tech weapons. Those weapons were part human and part alien, and were being created by a dude who has wings on his back. Peter found out that that guy is Liz’s dad, and now Peter’s going after him to stop him from selling even more weapons.”
He hissed as he placed the ice on his eye. You blinked, nodding once as you felt entranced by the layered codes on Ned’s screen. It was weird how you understood it and read them like they were normal words and letters. You mentally thanked your summer coding camp for the extra knowledge. "I..feel like there’s a lot more to the story than that but yeah, okay, I got it.”
A buzzing from your purse interrupted your entrancement. You shook your head and opened your purse, pulling out your vibrating phone.
Incoming call from..Flash.
You furrowed your eyebrows and rolled your eyes, taking a seat across from Ned and starting up your own computer, "Now’s really not a good time, E.”
"It’s not Flash, it’s Peter!” Peter practically screamed, making you wince from his panic-stricken voice and loud background noise that was filled with New York’s most obnoxious honks.
"Wha- did you steal Flash’s phone?” You asked incredulously, putting him on speaker while you typed away, hearing the same swift clicking coming from Ned’s side.
“No! I asked him for it!” He paused for a moment, “And his car!”
“What?!”
“You stole Flash’s car?” Ned asked, jaw-dropping and eye-widening in amazement, “Cool!”
“Yeah, it’s awesome, it’s awesome!”
"Peter! You’ve never driven before! How can you be driving?!” You scolded, suddenly feeling a twist in your gut at the thought of an accident due to his lack of experience in driving. Peter was never one to make impulsive decisions as dangerous as this. You guessed he changed over the months that passed.
"I know, this is a really big step for me and- ahhhhh! Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” Your hands froze in their place as you awaited a crash with a thundering heart, but it never came, which made you sigh in relief. The engine’s sound increased in volume as the car accelerated, but Peter’s voice was still louder, "I can’t see anything in this car!"
"Which car did you..borrow?” You asked, fingers returning back to work. You figured if you could help him, he’d get out of the vehicle at a much faster rate, and all you wanted to do was keep him safe and unharmed.
"How many does he own?” Peter asked in awe, honking the horn multiple times and screaming a couple of‘ move’s!
"Not important right now! What’s the logo of the car?"
"The four Olympic circle thingies."
"An Audi.” You said under your breath. Thank God, you thought, a car I'm familiar with, “Do you know how to turn the headlights on?
"No!"
"There’s a knob on the left of the steering wheel. Turn it clockwise.”
Peter repeated your instructions, and released a small laugh of victory, ”How’s Ned doing with Happy?”
“Uh,” You peeked over your screen, noticing beads of sweat form on Ned's forehead, even with the cool ice helping his eye, “Ned?”
"Getting to him..” He said, not paying you any attention.
"Have you found my phone yet?” Peter asked.
"Working on it, sit tight,” you replied, finally seeing a moving blue dot pop up on your screen, "He’s on Jackson Avenue and 48th Street."
“Perfect! And Happy?”
You once again awaited Ned’s answer, and worried when a distressed look flashed upon his face, “He hung up on me.” He frowned, "I’ll try again.”
You looked back down at your screen and realized that the blue dot had suddenly stopped moving. You squinted, “Hey, he stopped at 10th street and 43rd avenue in Brooklyn.”
"What? That makes no sense!"
"Welcome to my world,” you mumbled, hearing a small chuckle come from Ned before he focused on talking to Happy again.
“He said he was going out of town!” Peter explained, obviously having heard you, but it did nothing to diffuse your confusion. Why would Liz’s dad stop in Brooklyn when he said he was leaving?
"Weird..” You commented, rubbing your eyebrow as you started to feel the pressure. Jesus Christ, is this what Peter goes through?
“Dammit,” Ned muttered, catching your attention, "Happy sounded like he was catching a flight,” he said, “he mentioned something about taking off in nine minutes."
"What?” You and Peter simultaneously said, and you fought the butterflies that made their way to your stomach. Now’s not the time.
"He was surrounded by a bunch of boxes,” Ned clarified.
“Boxes?” Peter wondered out loud, and you were sure you could see his face as he put two and two together, "It’s moving day! It’s moving day, it’s moving day, he’s gonna rob that plane, I gotta stop him! Shit, I don’t know how to get the directions on this car.”
You jumped at the chance to help again, pleased that Peter finally had a destination to get to, "I’ve got his location, I’ll lead you.” You pulled up Flash’s location from the Find My Friends app, eyes jumping back and forth between your phone and the computer’s screen as you voiced the directions to Peter.
Peter’s foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, causing too much skidding, and you had to try your best to hold your tongue as to not to be a backseat driver. You wondered if you were in the position to berate Peter for impulsively stealing Flash’s possessions and driving recklessly. You found it amusing that the crime fighting Spider-Man had committed two crimes as of tonight.
"Slow down, there’s a right turn up ahead. You’re gonna take it.” You directed, just as Peter’s dot passed his exit, "Parker! Turn right, turn right!”
Peter screamed as the engine roared and the car skidded so loud you were barely able to hear his web shoot out. Your eyes widened in fear as you heard metal grinding against the concrete before coming to a halt with a harsh thump. Peter’s hasty breathing seemed match yours.
"Are you okay?!” You and Ned asked, your voice cracking and brain melting.
"I’m okay.” He breathed, making you drop your head in relief, shoulders easing up, "Just keep trying to get through to Happy.”
"It’s been an honor, Spider-Man.” Ned saluted, and you gave him a look of disapproval.
But then you both turned your heads at the piercing sound of high heels clicking in the hallways that were getting louder as the person headed in your direction. Ned’s face became as white as a sheet, surely matching yours.
'What do we do?' He mouthed, eyes rapidly bouncing back and forth between the door and you.
You bit your lip and glanced at the door before sighing and getting on your feet, “I’ll distract her,” You whispered, removing all traces from the computer, “keep calling Happy.”
Ned nodded in affirmation as you straightened out your dress and took a deep breath, cautiously opening the computer room’s door and stepping outside. Ms.Warren was peeping into the science lab across the computer room, and you took this as your chance to make it look like you were just making your way in.
She turned around and jumped, “Jesus!” She placed a hand on her chest, “What are you doing-“
She stepped closer and squinted at your figure in the dark, “Y/n,” she seethed.
She said your name with poison dancing on her tongue, causing a deep frown to settle between her eyebrows as she popped her hip and crossed her arms, "What are you doing here? There’s a dance, and you know it’s prohibited to be in this area.”
“I know, Ms.Warren,” you surpassed the urge to literally bite this woman’s head off and pretended to be vulnerable for a moment. You looked down at your feet, trying to conjure up an excuse that was easy to believe - Ms.Warren wasn’t exactly gullible, and wasn’t fond of you, either. Your reputation for causing trouble in her class cost you her trust, but you frankly couldn’t give a fuck. Plus, it was fun to mess around with her, what’s one more time?
“I just..” Your mind went blank as her eyes searched yours, a small glint of mischief shining in them. Oh, you bet she fantasized about the day she’d get you expelled from Midtown, but you weren’t ever going to let her see that day. So, you did what you always did when you got into trouble.
Play the absent parents' card.
“I just..I just w-wanted to call my dad. It’s quiet in here.” You said, faking your wobbly voice. No teacher liked it when they had to deal with crying students, especially those who hid the fact that they had no role models around them, like yourself. A look of confusion flashed in her eyes.
You were getting somewhere.
“It’s just..h-he’s been gone for so long, Ms. Warren, and I never see him. He called me tonight, and he never has before.” You fiddled with the ends of your hair, “What if he tells me he’s here? Here to see me? While I’m partying down t-there?” You sniffed for extra effect, somehow feeling your eyes swell with tears.
Weird.
You took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling to make it look like you were trying to hold yourself from falling apart, “I-I just wanted to call him,” you repeated, thickening your voice even more, “maybe he’ll apologize for never being there for me, especially after m-mom left us when I was ten.” You were almost impressed with yourself as you felt hot tears run down your face, traced with the mascara you applied before coming here.
In Ms.Warren’s shadow, you could tell her eyebrows were furrowed, and she was looking anywhere but you, clearly trying to choose between two options.
“I’ve never had a parent in my life.” You pushed, "No one taught me how to ride a bike, or swim, a-and I feel so left out because all the other kids have parents and I don’t!”
You grabbed onto her arms, looking her dead in the eye, “Please, please, just let me piece my life back together. Let me call him.”
For a moment, you swore you saw her demeanor soften. Just a moment where you felt like she understood you, not pitied you. But, just as quick as it came, it disappeared when she cleared her throat and looked around.
“Okay, okay.” She sighed, "But make it quick,” she stepped back from your grasp, ready to bolt, but you took the chance to make her slightly more uneasy.
What?
This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, of course you were going to take it.
“Oh, thank you, thank you!” You sprung into her, arms folding around her tightly as she stiffened, clearly feeling uncomfortable about the affection you were displaying. You breathed in through your nose, hard, and nearly laughed when you felt her hands on your shoulders, trying to peel you off of her with a face of disgust.
“Don’t mention it, s-sweetie.” She said, discreetly rubbing her hands on her dress, "You better go now before your dad gets busy again.”
“You're right, you’re right."
And for your final act, you pretended to sniff and wipe your nose with your arm, catching Ms. Warrner’s eye twitch. She was known for being a massive germaphobe, which really only came in handy during her class - until now.
She cleared her throat once again, turned around, and marched down the hallway, practically running away from you until she was gone. You placed a hand over your mouth, muffling your giggles as you entered the computer room once again, slowly closing the door behind you.
“She’s gone?” Ned swiveled in his chair to face you, cracking a smile when you happily nodded and wiped at your face.
“How about you? What’d Happy say?” You walked over to him, running your eyes over the lengthy call history, which was mainly filled with declined calls from your side.
“Um,” Ned rubbed his arm in shame, “he cursed. A lot. And he..he blocked me,”
Your face dropped, hearing Ned sigh and imitating him.
“What do we do now?” Ned asked, desperate as ever.
You waited for a moment, feeling a lightbulb go off in your head as you rushed to the other side and opened your phone.
“Give me his number,” You said, dialing the number Ned voiced to you and putting him on speaker. You crossed your fingers and waited for him to pick up, each ring only causing you more anxiety.
“Yeah?” Happy said, sounding quite annoyed.
“Well, damn, you don’t sound like a Happy to me. You sound like a grumpy.” You rolled your eyes, immediately regretting what you said.
“Not this shit again,” He said angrily, and you were pretty sure he was going to hang up, making you panic all over again.
“Someone’s going to steal Mr. Stark’s shit!” You blurted, wincing when you heard nothing from the other line for a moment. You were going to check if he hung up on you when you heard a, “what?”
“T-the plane!” You exclaimed, "The plane with all of Tony’s stuff! There’s a guy who’s going to steal it and Parker’s going to stop him!”
“You know what? How about you tell Parker that he has some delusional, weird fr-“ His voice suddenly faded out, “Holy shit.” He breathed.
“What? What happened?”
"The plane just crashed.”
Your heart dropped to the feet as the color drained from your face, feeling the blood rushing through your ears and fear spiking in your chest. Somehow, somehow, you knew Peter was where the crash was, and you feared the worst possible outcome. You didn’t even hang up as you rounded the table, picked up your keys, and ran out the door.
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tags: @peachescream06
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