#the fact that in most jobs u have to work to death and barely make enough money for food/bills let alone something u want. like idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

omg-imatotalmess · 3 years

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Speed Demon

Hey guys! So, our new anon, Peach anon, sent me an absolutely god-tier idea, and I got a little out of control thinking about it. Thank them for this messy little thing. Hope y'all enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested: No but based on an ask

The ask: hi i found ur blog recently and i LOVE your work and wanted to shower u with love and affection <3 <3 <3 and maybe also... a headcanon?? anyways roadtrip with boys are so fun to imagine like i have this hc that draco is such a nervous wreck in cars and it translates into passenger driver ("careful, careful!! that semi is switching lanes!" "draco i am sIX CARS BEhiND IT") nfdjhgjs anyways imagine getting so fed up you just reach over (1/2 peach anon claiming peach right now its MINE :D )

(2/2) and start palming at his cock switching btwn just resting ur hand on him and making him try to fuck up into you fist he'd be grabbing the little handle above the door and finally shut up literally the second after you let him come though it's like four seconds of happy peaceful silence and then its "love, steady, you're speeding a bit" anyways ty for doing all that you do ilysm :)

Warnings: Smut, hand jobs, don't jerk someone off while you drive, mild cum eating, sub!draco, dom!reader, swearing(?)

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The muted drone of the weatherman on the radio filled the near silence of the car. Draco didn't ever talk much when you drove. For a man that enjoyed taking road trips as much as he claimed to, he certainly didn't like being in the car. You didn't mind much, though. You were just happy to spend the time alone with him. Even if the only time he broke the silence was to yell about your driving, which, to be fair, was often enough.

"Slow down! Why are you so insistent upon getting us killed?" Draco snapped, digging his fingernails into the seat.

"Draco, my love, my sweet, I'm already going under the speed limit. Try to relax a little," you said. The huff from your passenger seat reminded you why everyone had insisted that you and Draco take your own car. No one else could put up with him. Especially not with the kind of amusement you could.

"I'll relax when you stop trying to kill us," he said. But, then again, even you had your limits.

"Do you want some help, love?" you asked.

"Help? What do you mean help?" Without looking at him, you lifted your hand from the wheel, resting it lightly on his thigh. You gave it a firm squeeze. Though he didn't say anything, you found yourself enjoying watching him squirm in your peripheral vision.

"You know, help," you said cheerfully.

"You're driving," he hissed.

"You don't seem to mind much," you teased, laying your hand over his slowly hardening cock.

"Watch the road!" he snapped as a truck switched lanes several cars ahead of you. Despite his command, he bucked his hips up, grinding into your palm with no shame. You smiled. Draco could be so stubborn when he wanted to be. No matter how badly he wanted this, he'd probably just keep complaining about your driving until he couldn't anymore.

"I am," you said.

"What if you-ah-get distracted?" he asked.

"I'm just letting you use my hand. Keep it down and you won't bother me," you laughed.

"But what if--oh," he cut himself off with a groan as you popped the button of his pants and snaked your hand underneath.

"Shhh, just enjoy yourself, baby boy," you soothed, grinding the heel of your hand gently against the head of his cock. The whiny moan that reverberated throughout the car made you strain to keep your eyes on the road. You would have loved to see the face he was making just then, but you told him you wouldn't get distracted. Instead, you settled for rubbing him teasingly just to make him squirm.

"(Y/N)," he groaned.

"Hmm?" you hummed.

"Please."

"Please, what? Tell me what you want," you said, glancing over your shoulder as you switched lanes.

"I want more," he muttered.

"I thought you wanted me to concentrate on the road," you teased. With a groan of frustration, he rolled his hips into your barely moving hand.

"(Y/N), take pity on me. I'm already in this screaming death trap," he whined. You laughed, giving him a rough squeeze through his underwear. A choked groan told you all you needed to know. All he wanted was attention. That was likely why he'd been complaining so much in the first place.

"Alright, alright. Take your cock out for me then, baby," you said.

After a second of shuffling, you felt him push himself into your waiting hand. It never took much to work him up, and you were grateful for it. You loved seeing him hot and leaking for you pretty much as soon as you started playing with him. Swiping your thumb over the slit, you smiled as the wetness there smeared with your touch. He bucked impatiently at the soft attention. It wasn't what he wanted. Pulling your hand away for a second, you spat into it before beginning to jack him at a torturous pace. It wasn't a substitute for lube, but Draco didn't seem to mind any.

A quick glance at your passenger told you that he was just enjoying the sensation. He could have been anywhere for all he seemed to care. It was almost like he'd forgotten about the car entirely. One pale hand gripped the seat under him while the other grabbed the handle over his head to steady him as he thrust into your hand. Like a man unhinged, he drove up into the tight circle of your fist practically unassisted. You doubt he really minded the lack of real lube.

"That's a good boy," you praised, switching back into the other lane. "I bet you feel so much better now that you have something to keep you busy."

"Yes! So much better!" he moaned.

"I know being my good boy always helps you relax," you said. The car in front of you swerved and cut off the guy in the other lane, who blared his horn. You slowed slightly, glaring at them.

"Always! Love being your good boy." Draco's voice was so earnest and sweet, all pitched up like that.

"And you are such a good boy, Draco," you said.

Little punched-out noises rippled through the car, overpowering the drone of the radio station you'd been listening to earlier. Honestly, you preferred them. Any sweet, pathetic little sound Draco made was infinitely more interesting than any news guy on the radio. Hips pounding into your hand, Draco tipped his head back against the headrest with the most desperate wine you'd heard in a while. You shivered, cutting your eyes away from the road to steal a glance at him in all his strung-out, desperate beauty.

And you weren't disappointed. His usually pale skin was flushed a bright pink, eyes lidded and more focused on you than anything else, and his bottom lip caught between his teeth in an unsuccessful attempt to quiet himself. A real thing of beauty. Your sweet, pretty boy Draco. Twisting your hand over the head of his cock, you relished in that fact for a moment.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'd be half tempted to pull over and fuck you properly in the back seat," you said.

"Please," Draco begged breathily, slamming his hips up erratically.

"Don't tempt me, baby boy. We're on a schedule," you said. Though, it really was a charming idea.

"(Y/N), please. I don't care about being late. Want you to fuck me," he whined.

"You say that now," you laughed.

"Please, I'll be so good," he whined.

"If you can cum from my hand now, Draco, I'll keep you so well fucked on a this trip you won't remember anything but me," you said, an alluring promise coloring your voice.

"Yes, yes! Want that! Wanna cum for you so much," he babbled. Arching his back against the seat, he drove his cock into your hand with renewed desperation.

"Are you close? You wanna a good boy and cum for me?" you purred. The car in front of you stopped short, but Draco didn't even seem to notice that you'd jerked to a stop. He just gripped the handle above him and whined for you.

"Wanna be a good boy. Please, I wanna cum," he cried. Looking over, you noticed the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. You smiled gently at him.

"Oh, Dray, you've been so good," you said. His mouth dropped open into a soft cry as his hips completely lost rhythm. "Go ahead, baby boy. Cum for me."

Draco's hips stuttered, once, twice, and by the third time, he was cumming all over your hand. His eyes screwed shut, and a pitchy cry of your name left his lips as he shook in your grasp. And you just worked him through it. Pumping him gently while he whimpered through the aftershocks. You didn't stop until his thighs shook so hard you could feel the car move. Then, finally, you pulled your hand away and lifted it to his mouth.

"Clean up your mess, baby boy," you said.

"Yes, (Y/N)," he said tiredly, sticking his tongue out. Pressing your fingers against it, you let him lick your hand clean of his own cum until you were satisfied. You two had started moving again by the time he finally came around enough to really talk to you.

"How do you feel, Dray?" you asked. He gave you a sleepy smile.

"Like you need to slow down. You're speeding," he said.

"I'm not speeding," you said. You were, in fact, speeding a little.

"Don't think that just because I just had the best orgasm of my life that I don't remember you drive like a demon," he said. Shaking your head, you laughed in disbelief.

"Only you could complain after having the best orgasm of your life," you sighed.

"I thought you loved that about me," he said. "You're still speeding."

"Maybe I should have pulled over," you said, rolling your eyes. Well, it had been nice while it lasted. And Draco was right. Kinda. You did love him, even if you wouldn't exactly say you loved his complaining.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco malfoy #sub!draco #dom!reader #draco malfoy x reader imagine #draco malfoy x reader oneshot #draco malfoy smut #draco smut #draco x reader #draco x reader smut #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #hp

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waspenned · 2 years

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scenes from an italian restaurant • part eight • peter parker

apparently the guy you’ve been working with for the past few months is spider-man, because your life is excellent. someone pays you a visit. • 5k

warnings: some language? not much other than that

now playing: this night by billy joel

part one / previous

a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IVE BEEN BUSY LOL anyway here’s my taglist and masterlist u kno the drill

There you were, haloed in orange lamplight, the cast of it picking out the flyaways in your mussed hair and the gloss of your lashes. If it had been lit properly, he’d be able to see the flush on your cheeks and chest, the spark in your eyes, despite the fact he was crawling along the popcorn ceiling, dusty under his fingertips, trying his best to be silent. You’d be mad he’d gone against you, he knew that, he just hoped you’d understand why he did it, after the fact.

You hated him. You said it yourself. Granted, you didn’t know that he and Spider-Man were anything more than vague acquaintances, but the distinction between the two was getting smaller and smaller. Spider-Man was eating into his life, Joe’s was supposed to be a low-risk escape from that. A few times, when he was feeling brave, he’d risked not even bringing the suit to work - enjoying the feeling of normal clothes against his skin, being able to roll his sleeves up without exposing anything too telling. It was like being able to breathe again, the knots in his chest loosened to near nothingness. He was just Peter again; he hadn’t been ‘just Peter’ since he was in high school.

He was lucky that this wasn’t one of those days, because as soon as that gun was pointed at you, he was seventeen again; the rain running tracks down his spine and soaking its cold fingers through his hoodie. Warmth spreading over his lap and hands, slippy as he pulls Ben into his lap, then cranes over him to try and shield him from the relentless New York downpour. His jeans had been stained red, stiff and cold in the hospital waiting room. He’d thrown them out when he got home.

It was this sort of thing he was supposed to prevent, and you were the sort of person he was supposed to protect, his responsibility. It was ironic, really, the two of you pulling the same card, but he would have to respect it. You had the ability to protect those in your care, so you had to. It was the same thing he hated in himself.

So he’d bitten the bullet and intervened, he had to suck it up, no matter how much your wrath would cost him. He didn’t want you to know about Spider-Man, and he didn’t want to ruin things between you (already very precarious Things, after Christmas), but he’d decided a while ago that he’d do nearly anything if it meant you lived. It was agony on a good day; being shit on online everyday, having a whole city rely on you for safety, having to walk around like normal with his ribs shattered to pieces - but it hurt him the most to lie to you, to look you in the eye and not be able to defend himself, or apologise for not being there when you needed him most. And yet, you’d seen him - even when he had a mask on, even through a television screen, even when you didn’t know it was him - and you still cared about him.

He’d already held someone he loved after they were shot. He’d already sat there, desperately trying to hold them together with his shaking hands, leaving handprints over their skin and clothes, holding onto their last bit of life. He’d already gone home covered in the blood of someone that would no longer be there to catch him when he fell. He wasn’t going to do it again, he was pretty sure he couldn’t - Ben’s death had taken so much out of him, and he wasn’t really sure there was much of him left.

The look on your face when he tells you is enough to make him wish he’d never been bitten by that fucking spider in the first place.

You wish, just once, you could live your life not being wracked by guilt.

You’d left, obviously. After doing the bare minimum, legal requirement for your job, you’d simply gathered your stuff and bolted. Peter would deal with it, considering he’s apparently used to this sort of shit. Goddamn it. Fucking Peter. Fucking Spider-Man. By the time you got out, it was one in the morning - but you’re still storming home through the streets, your phone buzzing in your pocket. It’ll be him, it’s been him every time. You’re ignoring him. He can fuck off.

You don’t really care what he has to say, frankly. Everything after That Bit was just white noise as you got your shit and left. You’d only barely remembered to throw him the keys to the diner. Peter had been trying to talk to you, you remember that much, babbling and trailing after you as he frantically tried to deal with the situation at hand, but there was only roaring in your ears.

Spider-Man had been trying to talk to you, and you’d ignored him.

It wasn’t quite sticking in your head. You almost didn’t believe him, because there was no way in Hell you would ever consider the two of them interchangeable. Peter blindly accepted his fate as ‘Peber’ until you got his name tag fixed up, how were you ever supposed to believe that this was the same guy keeping the city from rack and ruin. That would mean you nearly had sex with Spider-Man. That you’ve seen Spider-Man, not just without the mask, but without most of his clothes. That would also mean that Peter was that poor kid saving lives every day, instead of enjoying the last precious seconds of his teen years, or studying for his exams, or spending time with his friends, as he so desperately deserved.

It would mean that Peter was the one who let you down, back then. Peter didn’t get you out of the diner, didn’t stop the fire, didn’t save the day.

The whole thing made you want to vomit, and the almost incessant buzzing of your phone was certainly not helping. Messages flicker across the screen as you fish it out of your pocket, using the torch to illuminate your apartment door while you scrabble to put your key into the lock. It’s mostly Peter spamming you - though it seems to just be updates on the situation mixed with the odd, panicked message - with a few from Sal. Apparently Spider-Man dealt with the situation, got the guy arrested, and was currently working on dealing with the CCTV footage. Apparently the force of your pizza pan on his head meant the dude forgot most of the robbery entirely. Apparently your phone isn’t quite finished buzzing yet.

New Message from sal joes: What the ever shitting fuck is going on with my restaurant !!!!!!!!!!!

That one you’ll have to reply to. Goddamnit. God-fucking-damn it. Sal would probably wash your mouth out if he knew how much you were taking the Lord’s name in vain. You feel like Peter’s ratted you out to your teacher or something, and now you have more shit to deal with on top of the slew you’re already struggling with. Somehow, you manage to pull yourself together enough to reply - not enough to be polite, but enough to get him off your back for the night.

Reply to sal joes: it’s fine pete’s handling it. i had to go.

Kicking your shoes off in your hallway, you decide you need to say more than that - promise him an explanation when you’re less zombie-like at the very least. It’s not really fair, you like Sal and he hasn’t done anything to deserve a bad attitude from you - it’s not like he’s listened to you rant about a superhero for months on end only to turn around and be the bastard.

Reply to sal joes: ill tell you tomorrow it’s late. sorry. goodnight sal.

He starts typing back almost immediately. Your coat and bag are cast to the floor too, loose change and old, crumpled receipts spilling out across your hallway, followed by your diner cap. You’ll deal with it in the morning, you’re too tired to do anything else.

Glued to your phone, you somehow make it to your bed, cocooning yourself in the sheets and curling into a ball. Your heartbeat hums through the covers, seemingly shaking them with every sluggish pulse, as you watch the three dots under Sal’s name stop, start, then stop again. Eventually, something comes through.

sal joes: OK, as long as your safe. Peter is texting me about it.

sal joes: Sleep well Camino :)

Wrong ‘you’re’, but the sentiment still stood, and flooded you with a weird sense of comfort. Then, even though you were trying not to look, Peter’s name pops up at the top of your screen, your name typed underneath, alongside a plea to respond to him.

The comfort of Sal and your bed quickly stales, spurred on by the still-lingering shaking in your hands, and the emptiness of your apartment - a pitiful place you didn’t really have enough money to decorate, filled with anything you could thrift or get free from the street. Your dining table was missing a leg from where you found it in Brooklyn, but it didn’t matter much because only one person used it anyway - you just had to eat on one side of it.

It’s worse in the dark - the loneliness of it. You spend however many hours a week in some fluorescent-lit kitchen, or sat in the sunspots in the front of the diner, the darkness of your apartment seems like the emptiest place on the planet in comparison. You may as well be in the fucking Arctic circle.

You used to hate your job because it was a stupid job; the parties, the customers, the constant smelling of passata. Now you hate it because of what it’s done to you - you can’t even sit alone in the dark like a normal person, you have to be able to mumble your way through O Sole Mio, and know fifty different types of cheese, and get all attached to your stupid idiot coworker. Who even are you anymore, some capitalist dumbass? Your phone buzzes again, and you catch some more messages from Peter, a few minutes apart.

peber joes: i know u don’t wanna talk but can you please let me know you got home ok?

peber joes: are you alright?

peber joes: if you don’t answer im gonna have to come look for u

Location Request from peber joes.

peber joes: please just answer

The light of it hurts your eyes, the screen trembling in your grasp, your wrist tourniqueted in your bedsheets. You need to do something though, let him know you made it home, even though the thought of talking to him makes your skin crawl. Your phone is buzzing again, Peter barraging you with messages. You don’t have the strength to read them, just let your phone fall to your mattress. The vibrations reverberate through the old springs and stuffing, echoing through the fabric against your ear.

Outside your window, New York murmurs and chatters, small needles of the city coming through your curtains. You’ve left the window open again, but you don’t have the energy to get up and close it, even though the chill is beginning to make you shiver. In the distance, there are horns and sirens, as there always are in New York, the sound washing over you and yanking you under like a riptide.

And you, alone in your room, crumple.

It’s been a while since you’ve had a good cry, you were probably due one, but by fuck does it hurt. You’re not even sure why - though it’s probably something to do with the fact that you nearly had sex with your co-worker, then found out he was the spandex guy you’d harboured a grudge against for months, then nearly died - all in the space of an hour.

You suppose it makes sense in retrospect, as most things do. The reflexes, the abnormal strength, the lateness, the white ‘goo’ that cropped up in odd places, patching leaky pipes or holding rickety furniture together. After the cupboard incident a few months ago, you’d gone to check on the shelving the next day, and found more of it bolting the units to the walls of the pantry. You’d just assumed it was some new construction bullshit, because what the hell else could it have been. It was frustratingly obvious. He’d even told you so many times about his ridiculously stressful ‘other job’ and you hadn’t bothered asked him about it - instead, you’d looked him in the eye and said ‘What are you, Spider-Man?’, like some idiot. Your chest burns with embarrassment. Everything just seems to hurt, the strength sapped out of you and consumed by whatever sinkhole was opening between your lungs.

For the millionth time since you met him, you think ‘fuck this guy’, even though tonight you nearly did. You were tired of being tired of him, he was on your mind near constantly, but it had started to become comforting - he was, if anything, a constant. Whether that was constantly annoying you, or the determination he has towards being your friend, Peter was always just there. Why wasn’t Spider-Man?

It’s now that you notice that your phone has stopped buzzing. Something else has replaced it - some soft knocking on your window.

Your heart leaps to your chest for a split second, before you realise there’s only one person you know that could knock on a window five stories above the street; then, it sinks right back down to the pit of your stomach. When you shrink back into your nest of sheets, trying to stifle those snotty, post-cry sniffles, you can see his silhouette through your curtains, backlit by the lights of the city. It’s not him, you know it isn’t, he’s all spidery and angled, perched on the railing of your balcony. Peter hasn’t come to check on you, Spider-Man has - Spider-Man is at your window and calling your name all soft, in Peter’s voice, turning your stomach. You debate ignoring him, but then your curtains shift in the chilly New York wind, and you remember your window is wide open - ignoring him would just make him try and get in, and then he’d see the pathetic, sad lump you’d become.

“Go away.” Your voice is weak, almost laughably so. He shifts outside, a quick, sharp movement - as if pricking his ears at the sound of you. Your name comes too easily to his mouth, sending stabs through your ribs and lungs, winding you. There are a few painful moments of silence, the metal railing creaking underneath him as he shifts his weight. Eventually, he speaks.

“Please talk to me.”

“For fuck’s sake.” You’re up in an instant, scrubbing tears from your face with the heel of your hand. Everything seems to have fermented into anger, as it usually does for you, festering into some acrid, heavy thing in your throat, a tangle of barbed wire. You rip your curtains open, only to be met with a gloved hand. Spandex-ed hand, even.

It’s not Peter, it’s him, in the suit and everything, his hand outstretched and about to knock again. You must startle him, because he jolts backwards, tipping over the balcony and towards the street far below; instinctively you reach out to grab him, gripping his wrist and stopping the fall, your shoulder jolting with the sudden weight. You yelp, the fabric textured and unnatural under your hand, almost letting go of him from the shock of it.

Spider-Man stares up at you with those big white eyes, reflecting the moonlight and streetlamps, the lenses of his mask adjusting in the dim light. It kills the anger, and festers some odd fear instead. His face, or lack thereof, is distinctly alien and blank, sorely lacking the marks and dimples of Peter’s face - your heart aches with the knowledge that he’s under there, your Peter. If you squint, you can see the rise of his cheekbone, marred by the black webbing that runs over the suit, wrapping around the curves of his arms and ribcage. His free hand comes up, scrabbles around along his collar line for a seam, gets his fingers under it and pulls - exposing his neck, and then his face in a puff of brown curls.

When Peter looks up at you, his eyes are wide, lips parted as if about to say something - but neither of you say a word. You knew it was him, that it had always been him, but seeing him pull the damn mask off - seeing it in person - makes your ribs squeeze your lungs. His chest jumps with a sharp inhale, an anxious pulse thrumming beneath your fingers like a bassline. Every word you’ve ever learnt seems to dissolve on your tongue, your mouth thick with nerves, but your body acts of its own accord and pulls him upright again.

You must overestimate the weight of him, though, because he’s suddenly right there, in front of you, barely an inch or two between you. That feeling floods you again, the one you normally get when Peter’s around, and the one you apparently get when he’s this close. You can smell him, the soft scent of his deodorant, mixed with the cheap laundry detergent you can buy in bulk in the city. There’s dish soap and lemon and coffee, smudged ink from studying on his breaks, and caramels from plating desserts. It’s an odd effect; this is apparently the magic combination that quiets the buzzing in your head. That, and the softness of the flannels he wears before he changes into his uniform. And the way his hands warm your upper arms on particularly cold shifts. And the way he holds cigarettes like a pen, stubs the embers out in little twists on the paving flags. He’s so close that all of it comes rushing back to you, and the suit does nothing to prevent the heat of his skin warming you through, melting you into syrup. If you just leant forward you could -

His nose bumps yours softly, and before he can shy away from you again - before you can get all warm from the proximity of him - you retreat into your apartment. Peter follows, manoeuvring himself in through the window and pulling it closed when he notices the chill in your home. He’s stuck to the wall, and he watches you avoid the sight of it, slowly lowering himself to the floor; mask is wrung between his hands as he watches you pace and clatter around your tiny kitchen, setting a mug and a tea bag next to the kettle before clicking it on. Another mug is in your hand, and you turn to Peter, but your voice dies in your throat when you see him. His name sparks on your tongue like popping candy, but you swallow it back, your head filling with the crackling racket. There’s more silence, each of you waiting for the other to speak - until you both do.

“I got you the day off tomorrow.”

“You want a tea or something?”

You can’t help it, but the iron grip on your chest loosens with relief at not having to go to work tomorrow; you’re not quite sure you could take the interrogation from your coworkers, let alone the fucking police. When you finally force yourself to make eye contact, Peter’s face is all tense and red - not like when he gets embarrassed, but with the wind and rain against his cheeks. It’s odd to see him like this, not dressed as Spider-Man (though you’re not sure you’ve processed that yet, either) but so uncomfortable and stiff. Sure, he had his moments of awkwardness, but not to this extent. He sniffs, pushing his hair away from his face, waiting for you to answer first. The suit must not be waterproof, because his hair is damp, his curls clumping together in a shiny mass. He’ll be getting cold - unless he doesn’t get cold anymore.

“Thank you.” You mouth, afraid to say it any louder than a whisper.

“No problem.” He mouths back, then clears his throat and speaks aloud. “A tea would be nice. It’s fucking cold.”

It’s soft, his voice, barely audible under the rumble of the kettle behind you, like he’s scared of being heard, and you sorely miss the sound of it. There’s a distinct Queens tang to it, the auditory equivalent of fresh newspaper and spearmint. The way Peter’s holding himself, shy, contained, eyes peering around the room and taking it in - you realise you’ve never seen him outside of Joe’s before, let alone your apartment. You’ve not had a friend around to your apartment before, never mind a coworker. Does Peter still count as a friend?

He’s made new, you think, backlit by your lamps, parts of him soaked in their warm glow, like the dappled sun through leaves. He’s softer when he’s not under the diner fluorescents, soft threads of copper picked out in his hair, his bone structure illuminated. It’s the first time you’ve been able to get a good look at him without his uniform or some ratty hoodie - not quite naked, but close enough. He’s toned, the light casting shadows across the curve of his arms, but he’s skinnier than you’d thought; not quite a surprise, though, it wasn’t like he was in the best financial situation at the moment. All that swinging probably didn’t help.

Swinging. Fuck. Spider-Man is in your apartment.

You only notice how quiet it is when the kettle’s boiling comes to an abrupt stop, and it jolts you into action. The tea is poured, steeping the bag, and you watch the rich colour blossom in the water - suspended like ink. He doesn’t come near until you beckon him closer, and you can tell he’s trying not to touch you as you hand the mug over; whether it’s because of the Spider-Man thing, or the sex thing, you’re not quite sure. He can probably tell you’re trying not to look at the suit, focussing on tugging the teabag around by the string, bumping it against the walls of the mug.

You just nearly had sex with Spider-Man. You feel gross for thinking about it so much, but it’s not something you can easily move past.

“I’m sorry for leaving earlier.” You find yourself saying, though you’re not entirely sure you are sorry, it wasn’t like you disappeared for no reason. In fact, it seemed like one of the better reactions - if anything, you were proud you didn’t pass out or get all weird with him. Peter doesn’t even attempt a sip of the tea, just sets the cup down and stands around. If it was any other time, you’d offer him a seat.

“Don’t be. I understand.” He says, his voice raw. There’s a moment as he watches you force the scalding liquid down your throat, barely tasting the tea, refusing to give anything away to him about how awful you feel. You’re fine, look how normal you are, drinking tea and being fine. You gulp, and he clears his throat from whatever’s caught in it. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You know what, but you want him to tell you. You want to hear it out loud, have him present the whole thing to you, spill it over your floor. You want an evidence board, with pictures and receipts and red thread strung between. Instead, Peter shrugs.

“A lot of stuff. The whole not telling you thing.”

You scoff. “That’s part of the job description, dude. I don’t blame you.”

It’s the right thing to say, so you say it. You don’t mean it, but there’s not really an alternative. It’s unreasonable to expect him to tell you everything about his life, especially after you spent so long ranting about it, but the selfish part of you hoped he would at least spare you the embarrassment. Peter huffs out some dry chuckle, though there’s no humour in it, and your ears burn at the sound of it.

“You blame me for the other thing, though.”

“What?” You know what he’s talking about, you just hope he isn’t. Your eyes are glued to your sink, as you rinse already-clean plates and mugs under the tap, just to give your hands something to do - just so you don’t have to look at him. Peter swallows some tense breath, then bridges the gap between you, resting a comforting hand on your arm. You jump at the touch of him, squirming away and pressing yourself against your cabinets. He takes a few steps back out of the kitchen, hands raised, and your breath rattles in your chest as he builds the courage to speak again. Eventually, it just tumbles out of him.

“The fire. I’m also sorry about the fire.”

Something hurts inside your head, but you swallow it like a crumpled ball of sandpaper, pushing away the fuzzy feeling that was already building in your ears and fingertips. Even the mention of the fire is enough to set your heart racing - you already think you smell smoke.

“The fire was a stupid thing, Peter.” It wasn’t. It lives in your skull like some smoking, lurking thing, sapping away at you. Your rinsing has turned to scrubbing at this point, trying to get the ash and soot out from under your nails, but you’re not quite sure it’s there.

“Yeah, but you were in trouble. If you had been-” Peter cuts himself off, and the millions of paths that sentence could have taken are immediately closed off. He takes a breath, and your heart is still racing under the softness of it. “If I’d known, I would have come, I promise.”

You know it wasn’t his fault, and you know there’s nothing he realistically could have done to stop it, but your heart still twists, still hardens against him.

“But you didn’t.” It comes out before you can stop it, completely forced out between gritted teeth. Peter can tell, he’s creeping closer, pricking your flesh into goosebumps. “It’s done now.”

“I saw it on the news the day after, I felt awful. I took one day off, and next thing I know, Joe’s is-” You interrupt him before he can say anything else, your throat burning, spitting out your words like you were coughing up soot after the fire. They’d sent you home, the NYFD, then interviewed you a few weeks later for the investigation before the new Joe’s opened. Your fingers itch, and when you look down you think you see your fingertips stained yellow with tobacco. When you blink, there’s nothing there. You scrub at them harder.

“It’s not your fault.”

“You kind of seem to be upset with me, though.”

“It’s not like you started it.”

“Well, no, but-”

The buzzing in your ears sends a jolt through your brain, and you slam the tap off - the force of it juddering through your pipes. In the sink, your hands are burning, and you yank them out of the steaming water, suddenly aware of the sensation. There’s something hot and rasped caught in your throat, and you want to cough it up, spit it out, but you’re terrified it’ll come out black.

“Listen, Pete, I’m upset with Spider-Man. Not you.”

He blinks, eyebrows drawn together in that stupid, concerned way they have been for the past couple of hours. You can only last a few painful moments, looking at him, before you can’t stomach it anymore. Peter speaks slowly, shamefully, somewhat regretfully.

“We’re the same person.”

“Really? Really, Peter? Because Spider-Man seems to have a smart ass comment ready twenty-four-seven, and you once told a customer we were out of ‘ordange’ juice.”

Now, that seems to get at him, strikes a nerve somewhere beneath the spandex and knocks the wind out of him with a sucker punch. Already, your tongue stings with something acrid and rotten, your heart sinking into the pit of your gut. It’s like kicking a puppy, the way he looks at you, like you just took every precious thing you’d shared over the past couple of months, and ripped them to shreds in front of him. He breathes, chest heaving, blinks. It is, unfortunately, painfully, human.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Me neither.”

In your apartment, a clock ticks. The pipes rumble. Outside, a distant siren pierces the Manhattan smog. Peter’s hands twitch at the mask twisted between them, pulling the fabric into a thick, tense rope. He sniffs, pushes the wet thatch of hair back from his face, and finally speaks - quietly, delicately.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

It softens you. Melts you. You want to apologise - not out loud, no, just cup the wishbone of his jaw in your hands and feel the scratch of his stubble against your palms. Hold him. Run your fingernails over his scalp, make his nerves sing and the tension in his shoulders ease. Maybe then, he’d let you kiss him again. You’re awful to him.

“Me too.” You eventually manage. Then, in case it wasn’t obvious, “About you.”

Peter nods. He knows what you mean - and that you’re not saying what you want to say. He knows, because he’s not saying it either.

“I, uh, care about you, y’know?”

“I know. I care about you too.”

Maybe one day you’ll be honest with each other. You keep saying you will, but it never ends up that way. It’s easier to lie - he probably knows that better than anyone. The lenses on his mask look up at you, reflect the lights of your kitchen. You look away from Spider-Man’s eyes, and focus on Peter’s. His nose twitches, an awkwardness strung between his shoulder blades.

“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?” He murmurs - then, when you pull a face; “Not the burglary part, the part… before. Though we should talk about the burglary too. And-”

There’s a measure of speechless gesturing; a flap of a hand connecting the two of you, binding you into a single, nameless unit. Not quite a relationship, but more than anything else.

“This.”

There’s something at the root of you that wants to invite him to stay, plant him in your bed, and glue yourself in his hair, so he’ll never leave. Something else wants to never see him again. Your soul screams, reaches for him, strains its muscles, and you breathe in the absence of him.

“I think I just want to go to bed, Pete.”

“Okay.” He’s offering some pitiful half-smile, letting you break his heart and sweep the cracked porcelain of it under your kitchen cabinets. In the dim light of your apartment, the rings under his eyes look darker than ever. “It’s been a long day.”

“It has.”

The mask comes back on, though he hesitates before he can slip it over his mouth, then moves closer into the safe bubble of your kitchen. Before you can react, he presses his lips to your forehead, the mask bunched up on the bridge of his nose, and climbs out of your window. He closes it behind him again, because of course he does. You miss him already.

The tea you made for him is untouched, still steaming on your counter.

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evacado3 · 3 years

Text

Someone requested Samuel relationship hcs, but my dumbass accidentally posted my reaction🙄. So I deleted it but here you go anyways.

Samuel Seo hcs

Word count: 730

If I'd had to pick a place where your first meeting was, it's most likely in the office. I feel like he doesn't really have that much of an eventful life outside of work

He was probably interested in your passive character in the interview, making you his new secretary

Invites you on just a 'friendly date' between boss and employee, but admits he does in fact feels something for you

At first, when you guys started dating, nothing changed

Not much physical affections in the first week

At work, only because your his girlfriend, doesn't mean that he'll give you an automatic free pass

In fact, presumably gives you more work

Expects more from you cause your the girl he, Samuel Seo chose

Cold af during work time, no exception, barely felt you were dating

Until he becomes a gentleman who opens the door for you after off work

The damn butterflies, how did you fall for him even more

Insists to drop you off, so you muster up the courage to ask if you could visit his place

He'd purse his lips to hide his smile, mutters a small yes, can't lie that was the fastest U-turn he's ever made

The guy undeniably uses those aesthetic vanilla scented candles, I know it, you cannot disagree

His room smells heavenly, and even more organized than his office

Ocd freak, Do not touch his papers, I repeat, do not touch them papers

That's a red zone, will get mad ok, like, very

Lends you a big ass shirt, one that flows to your knees

Has cold, black silk sheets, sooo comfortable while snuggling in them titties I apologize

Would take the relationship seriously, I don't think he really goes around playing with women, I mean does he have time for that?

Suggests that you move in after about a month, to assure that you are committed and that you aren't inviting over other men

I do feel like he's isn't the type of guy who says "I love you", but will gladly show you

You'd fix his tie every day before work, it has become a form of affection

Also, fix him an easy healthy bento, he'd finished it all

Will suggest that you stop working, as a director he makes more than enough, kinda wants you to stay home more

Wouldn't force you though, but if a male employee chats with you, he suddenly learns how to teleports

"Mister _____, get back to work, those papers I requested aren't in yet."

Jeez the death glare sends shivers down the man's spine, has never talked to you again after that

But he wouldn't want to make the relationship open to everyone, does wants to keep his private life a secret

Drops you off at the bus stop so no one sees

Yujin definitely knows though, did offer you a gold badge

You are most likely to not know about those dark secrets behind workers, joined cause your boyfriend was in it

Probably gives you the silent treatment if he's pressured, might rest in his studies instead

Does apologies for his attitude, coos you into forgiving him

After that, rules are set that arguments should always be resolved before bed

Apologetics cuddles, let you mess with his hair, trace his tattoos, and opens up to talk about his shit day

Another thought is that his s/o is actually a few years older than him

I mean, who the hell gets a job as a director at 19 unless you a gangster like sammy over here

You'd probably be a little more mature to handle his random moods bipolar ass

The only time you saw him in that feral mode, is definitely when someone tried to touch or hurt you

Nah cause please rescue the guy if you don't want your boyfriend to be a murderer

Doesn't calm down till the person's knocked out cold

He might have stopped in front of you but will ruin his life behind your back

Possessive, the good part is that the man can fight, so wear what you want mama

Your daily routine consists of touching his tits

I do not apologize for the last sentence.

But honestly, I don't think he'd be too fun to date, more of a workaholic. Shows minimum affection, but is completely free to snuggle at night. But take this seriously,

there's no backing out from his love

#samuel seo x reader #lookism samuel #samuel webtoon #samuel #samuel seo #seo seongun #fics #lookism x reader #webtoon lookism #lookism

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ushittyoldman · 3 years

Text

sweetheart like you

request. hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song)

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?”

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.��

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably.

“Holy shit.”

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes.

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you.

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes.

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer.

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.”

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you.

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend.

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat.

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing.

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

#spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel #spike x reader #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanfiction #this was so fun 2 write n i am sad its over #spike cowboy bebop

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dameronology · 3 years

Note

can i request from your agnst song lyrics list 1) "i had all of you, most of you, some and now none of you" - the night we met, lord huron? maybe from nat’s perspective bc she lost reader please? 🥺

of course!! i hope u enjoy <3 this came out in a weird format but ?? we move

natasha romanoff + ""i had all of you, most of you, some and now none of you"

Natasha could count the five occasions on her right hand during which she knew she was going to lose you. As each one passed, she could tell that you were slipping away bit by bit; at first, it was just a little. A tiny bit of distance, but something you could bounce back from. Then it became a deeper and deeper divide, until she'd passed the point of no return and lost you completely. The worst part was that she knew it was happening. She was fully aware that you were slipping through her fingers and she had done nothing to stop. There was only one person to blame, and Nat knew who it was.

The first time she knew was when she'd missed an important dinner date - a cliche, really. It had happened to everyone at some point or another but this one? It had been a particularly important one. A big PR night for the Avengers, where she'd promised to be by your side and help put on a united front. You'd set a reminder on her phone, written it on the calendar in her office, and even sent her a final text on the big day. Then her meeting had overran, and she had a conference call, and four hours later, the realisation hit her like a truck. She'd forgotten. She'd taken on too much work and let you down.

"I am so sorry!" Nat burst in the room, fiery hair all over the place. She had quickly come in a rush, and her less than subtle entrance only brought more embarrassment to the warmth on your cheeks. "I was working, and I lost track of time-"

"- you had one job, Natasha," you hissed. Standing up from the dinner table, you awkwardly moved over to her and shoved a glass of champagne in her hands. "You said you had booked the day off weeks ago."

"There isn't a day off when you're an Avenger," she softly reminded you. But, the presence of Bucky, Steve, Tony, Peter and literally every other fucking super-hero in New York told you other-wise.

"Yeah, I know," you murmured. "C'mon, let's just sit down."

"I really am sorry, honey," Nat pushed.

"I know," you repeated. "Just...be on your best behaviour for the rest of the evening."

You'd written it off as a blip; so what if Natasha had made a mistake? Despite all her prior accomplishments, she was a human being. Work was important to her and you totally got that. It was important to you as well, and you had always supported each other.

More than anything, you were just grateful it had been a work related incident than anything. The first few months of your relationship had been plagued with Nat pushing you away and consistently shutting you out - it had taken a long time for her to open up to you, and even longer for her to trust you. You were glad whatever argument had come her mess-up hadn't been her doing the same all over again.

Or so you'd hoped - because the second time she felt you slipping away? It was a little more serious.

"Natasha," you sighed, "you need to tell me these things."

"It's nothing, I promise," she murmured.

"A gunshot wound isn't nothing!" you countered. "The worst part is that I found out about it from Bucky's Snapchat story."

She frowned. "Bucky has Snapchat?"

"Yeah, he meant to to send it to Steve, but accidentally posted it publicly instead," you gave a derivative snort. "But that aside, you can't keep things like that from me. I thought we didn't have secrets. Nat."

"We don't, sweetheart," Nat replied. "I just didn't want to scare you."

"You scared me more by not telling me," you shot back. "Just...please tell me next time? Don't keep me out the loop."

She forced a smile. "I won't."

But she did.

So much so, in fact, that you found yourself almost losing Natasha completely. She would no longer tell you about where she was going on missions, or when she would be back - it was all just a giant question mark. And not that dissimilar from how it had been at the beginning of your relationship. She'd been secretive, then; keeping you out the loop and not opening up when she clearly experienced something traumatic.

You'd always been there for her, but you didn't want to force it either. You were just hyperaware that you were the only person you spoke too, and if she stopped talking to you? That meant she was bottling it all up. That was never healthy.

"Steve said there were deaths," you called after Natasha, helplessly following her through your shared apartment. "Five men down, Nat, and you don't even want to talk about it a little?"

"I'm not good at talking," Nat muttered. She stalked through to the bedroom, throwing her go-bag into the back of the wardrobe. "Don't force me."

You stopped in your tracks. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just...I don't want you to bottle it up, y'know? That's not good for you. I guess I'm just letting you know that the offer is there."

"Thank you," Nat forced a smile. Again. "I appreciate it."

"I also don't want you to shut me out," you continued. "I've been through that with you before and I don't want to do it again. It almost killed both of us."

"Hey, I'm sorry," her face fell, and she softly reached out, pulling you into a hug. "I won't shut you out. I promise."

Natasha managed to break both of her promises; the one about keeping you in the loop, the one about not shutting you out.

It came naturally to her, you see. She was a solitary person; raised by design to be self-sufficient and to not let anyone in. At the Red Room, finding support in others had been a sign of weakness and try as she might, Natasha couldn't shake the habits that were engrained into her brain. She wanted to - for you, she really did - but it was hard.

It didn't take long for things to come to a head. You weren't an idiot; you knew when Natasha was icing you out. It had hurt too much the first time round and there was no guarantee that you'd have it in you to see it through a second time. You figured that space might be good - not a break up, but just some time apart.

"Natasha, we need to talk."

She hated the words as soon as they left your mouth - so did you. There was never a good conversation that started with we need to talk. It was always either a separation or an ultimatum, and you were too tired for the latter. Proposing a break seemed like the best thing for you both.

Nat frowned. "What's up?"

"I won't beat around the bush," you began. "I think we should take some time apart."

You could see Natasha's face fall instantly, but she couldn't deny it that it hadn't come as a shock. Something - a trial separation, a break-up, an argument - had been brewing for a while. She was just good at dancing around it.

"Really?"

"Yeah," you admitted. "We're both tired and it feels like we're slipping back towards how things used to be."

"You're right," she agreed. "I'm sorry. You know I love you, right?"

You smiled. "I know - I figured you could use the time to work out what you want. See if you wanna talk to someone professionally, or if you just want to...y'know."

"Know what?"

"If you want to break-up permanently," you finished the sentence with a wobble in your voice. "Ball's in your court, Nat."

The ball was in her court - and she basically let it deflate.

Because for Natasha, emotions were scary. You'd left the apartment with a promise between you that she would be the one to make the final call.

A month and I'll call you, is she what she had said.

A month and I'll call you, is she what she had promised.

It was a slow month. You didn't hear from Natasha at all; when you went to collect your mail from the apartment, she was out. She barely showed her face at the office these days and her presence on social media was gone. Her name no longer popped up on the viewers list for your Instagram or Snapchat story. There were no more good morning texts.

Then that slow month turned in a slow five weeks. Then six. Then seven. Then two months had passed, and you hadn't heard a single thing.

Not until a cold Monday evening, when you were holed up in your new apartment watching an old episode of Seinfeld. The presence of your friends, paired with old sitcoms, was the only thing getting you through the Natasha-induced drought. A knock on the door only made it worst.

"One second!" you called.

Throwing your blanket aside, you put down your soup and shuffled over to the front door. Out of habit (one that Nat had taught you), you peered through the peephole - your heart practically stopped when you saw a head of red hair and green eyes. It was unmistakably your Natasha.

"Nat," you greeted her with a cold tone as you opened the door. "Fancy you making an appearance."

"I am so sorry," she began. "I just needed time. I needed time to think-"

"- I gave you a month!" you cut her off. "And I would have given you more if...if you had just asked. If you had just spoken to me, or communicated with me."

"I know," she murmured.

"No, Nat," you firmly said. "I don't think you do. I don't think you know at all - about what you're doing or how you're making me feel."

"I..." she trailed off. "I love you."

"You don't fucking act like it," you snorted. "I could deal with at first - all the miscommunications and random disappearances, but I'm done now."

"I just want one more chance - please?"

"No," you snapped. "You've made your bed. Now lie in it."

And she would; she would lie in it alone.

#asks #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagines #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fan fiction #natasha romanoff fic #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #black widow fic #avengers x reader #avengers imagines

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

Lock-down Kisses

i wasnt almost gonna do day 11 but i got inspired late last night.

im also so glad that you guys liked my fic yesterday, it has been a bit of a stressful week for me so it makes me happy when you guys like my fics! it really means a lot so thank u! :)

cw: none. just some usual fluff lol

1.4k words

enjoy!

Aelin was so damned bored. She was sure she'd never been this bored in all her life.

She had to tell herself constantly that she was lucky, that she had a roof over her head, food in the fridge and pantry and that she was healthy and walking around, that she still had her job, no matter how rocky it currently was, she was still lucky.

It still didn't change the fact that being in lock-down rutting sucked.

It had been a month since the hard lock-down started and she had been stuck at home—her beautiful, sturdy home that she was damned privileged to have—somewhere in-between the mood of wanting to do something but not having the energy to actually do it.

She had already vacuumed and put the clean dishes away and the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She had done a fresh load of laundry and put it outside to dry. With nothing left other than mopping (which she hated because no matter how hard she cleaned the tiles beforehand, there was always little pieces of debris that showed up and annoyed her to no end), she couldn't really think of any other house-chores for her to do to keep her preoccupied.

She mowed yesterday, and had racked up the leaves and grass too, plopping them in the garden bin. She watered the garden and refilled the bird-bath, as well.

There were plenty of books to read and listen to, but Aelin just wasn't in the mood for that, which surprised Rowan when she said that yesterday when she complained for the umpteenth time that she was slowly going insane—Aelin was always in the mood to read, but now...maybe it was because the people in those books were having adventures while she was stuck inside.

Right now, she was lying on the couch, staring at her plain as dust ceiling, wondering if it would break protocol if she could pay her neighbour Feyre to paint something enticing.

It probably would be, but she needed something pretty to stare at if she wasn't reading or watching television.

Again, she was grateful, because she had books to read and television to watch, but Aelin always liked to be doing something, being outside and running errands and working.

She was a teacher at Orynth dance and music studio, and due to the lock-down, she was unable to teach dance, but thankfully, she was still able to conduct piano, guitar and violin lessons over Zoom, even if it wasn't really the same and her laptops speaker made the music sound a little dingy, but she didn't have any lessons this week, but would next week, so at least she had something to look forward to.

To pass the time, she had resorted to snooping, watching people mill about in the street from the safety of her enclosed verandah and telling Rowan of the details that she observed when he had a moment of free time.

Which was practically non-existent, thanks to being a teacher and having to deal with stressed out senior students who constantly needed to be reassured that everything was going to be okay.

Not that Aelin could blame them for their stress, she felt so damned sorry for those kids, hyperventilating because they couldn't concentrate at home because they had to share the office with others and how terrified they were of flunking and just about everything else that caused them stress. But Rowan was there, reassuring them that everything would be okay and that as a team, they would tackle everything one day at a time.

Which was why when Aelin went to give Rowan a fresh cup of coffee earlier she was surprised to see that her husband was not in the study and that the room was empty. His laptop and papers were all set up for another day of virtual learning, but her husband could not be found, and she had gone throughout their entire house looking for him and did not find him. And it wasn't like he was hard to spot, he was over six feet tall, tanned and had silver rutting hair, but he was nowhere.

When she had gone back to the kitchen to add sugar and cream to his coffee that was now hers, she noticed that his joggers were gone by the front door, which made her frown because he hadn't mentioned going for a walk—not like he had to tell her everything she did, but she wouldn't have minded joining him—and came to the decision that maybe he just needed to clear his head before another stressful day was upon him.

At least it was Friday, not that that really meant anything when one was a teacher.

Aelin glanced around her living room, she had rearranged it two Saturdays ago with Rowan's help and maybe wondered if she could re-arrange it again, but decided that would just be ridiculous.

Maybe yoga would be a good idea, she didn't mind it and it at least gave her mind something else to focus about other than viruses and death and all other manners of unpleasantness.

So deciding that yoga was the best thing to prevent her from going to the roof and swapping out the tiles, Aelin got dressed, grabbed her things and went outside.

X X X X X X

Two hours later and Aelin was still outside. However, she gave up on yoga an hour ago, finding the energy to listen to a deliciously smutty audio-book. She was watching the clouds, but her mind was imaging that what was happening between the two lovers was her and Rowan (something that happened often when it came to these stories) and was about one paragraph from either shoving her hand down her pants or calling Rowan and asking him when the hell he was coming home so that they could recreate the scene when the front door opened.

Aelin jumped up and went back inside, barely remembering to turn off the audio-book and have her way with Rowan on the floor when she stopped dead at the sight of him.

Because in his hands hand was a leash, that was attached to a dog. A yellow lab, to be exact. The dog looked to be about six months old and was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

“Rowan, why do you have a dog?”

“She's ours,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I was supposed to pick her up from the shelter over a month ago, but she got sick, so I was told to wait until she recovered. She's okay now, perfectly healthy, so I finally got the call the other day that she was ready to be picked up. She's caught up on all the necessary vaccines, and is well trained. I was meant to be here earlier, but Fleetfoot here wanted to go swimming in a mud puddle, so I had to take her to a dog spa on the other side of town.”

Aelin nodded, her eyes still glued on the pup. Her eyes were a pretty golden-brown colour and while she was young, Aelin could tell that she was smart.

“You got us a puppy?” Aelin managed to ask.

“Yeah. I know you've been wanting one for a long time, and when I saw her pop up on my Facebook wall, I knew she was the one for us. Do you like her?” he asked and Aelin could have sworn that her burly husband sounded shy. Nervous.

“I love her,” Aelin admitted truthfully and finally went over to their dog, who immediately starting sniffing at Aelin's outstretched hand when she crouched down in front of her. And was soon being supplied with kisses, all over her hand, her face and neck. Aelin laughed and Rowan smiled, knowing that he had made the right decision.

Rowan was about to sit down himself when Aelin tugged at his hand, bringing him down on top of her and kissed him with every bit of love she felt for him.

It didn't take long for Fleetfoot to join them, licking at Rowan while she yipped for their attention. They broke apart and spent the rest of the day getting to know the new addition of their family.

Lock-down sucked, but Aelin was lucky indeed to have her husband in her life. And the pure ball of energy that was Fleetfoot.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something.

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer.

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about.

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?”

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard.

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts.

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face.

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat.

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement.

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock.

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour.

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too.

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face.

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.”

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side.

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other.

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?”

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set.

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding.

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because.

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick. Naturally too, you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything.

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot, after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep.

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked.

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that.

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth?

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares?

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam?

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tomholland #Tom Holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x you #sam holland

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brattyfics · 3 years

Text

Girls Need Love Too

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader

Summary: Miguel has to be reminded of what’s most important.

Warnings: NSFW-ish.

A/N: This was an attempted rewrite of ‘Savage’ that took on a life of its own. I may publish a part two later that includes smut, but I wanted to post this before I abandoned it all together.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Nestor groaned as he took in your appearance.

You looked down at yourself, feigning innocence. “What are you talking about? I’m just wearing a robe?”

The dark material hugged you in all the right places, highlighting your figure and fanning out just above the knee. The sexy silk robe was a poor illusion of modesty but it served its purpose.

Your legs, Miguel’s personal favorite, were on display and sure to grab his attention. To most men legs were just vessels to transport you from one place to another. But Miguel was nothing if not meticulous. Every little detail was an appetizer for the main course. Your legs were a roadmap to the place he always wanted to be, buried deep inside you.

“Exactly.” Nestor rolled his eyes but gestured for you to continue past him to Miguel’s home office anyway.

📲 What time r u coming to bed?

An hour passed with no response so you were forced to take matters into your own hands. Almost a week of late nights and early mornings apart left you aching for your husband. Aching for the moments Miguel woke up in the middle of the night and pulled you closer, hugging you tighter to his chest. Or how he’d always stop whatever he was doing to kiss your forehead or knuckles when you entered a room.

You even missed being taunted by him— the long, lingering touches on your ass in public. He always smirked to let you know he knew what he was doing, getting you worked up. You hated the idea of scandalizing the little old ladies of Santo Padre, but Miguel was already ‘El Diablo’ to them. He got off on it, slowly corrupting you at each turn in hopes he’d prolong your time together, in this life and the next. All that effort to make sure he’d have your company eternally and he couldn’t be bothered to come to bed at a reasonable time.

Men could be dense, and even your brilliant, debonair husband was no exception. You planned to straighten him out though. You knocked but didn’t wait for an invitation to enter. You were done doing things at his pace.

Miguel’s head lifted from his papers and you knew he had been ready to chew whoever came through the door out for disturbing him. Because it was you, his face softened into a tired smile. It almost made you feel bad. Almost.

“Hi, stranger.”

“My love.” He gestured for you to come closer, looking at you with sleepy affection.

“See something you like?” You smiled, making your way across the room.

“Of course. You’re even more beautiful than the day we met.” You sighed, clutching your chest. He never made it easy for you to stay mad at him. The thoughtful words were just what you needed in the moment. “How sweet.” You whispered, meaning it.

“It’s only the truth.” Miguel reached for you, pulling until you stood in front of him. Your arms folded across your chest as you resisted his attempt to pull you into his lap.

“Is it?” You stroked the silky crown of his head. “Because as of late, your actions say something different.”

“You’re serious?” Miguel’s eyes roamed your face and he found you were in fact serious. “I’ve been busy, I know, but you’re my world.” He spoke softly, gently stroking the back of your thighs where the robe stopped.

“I’ve barely seen you. I fell asleep and woke up in an empty bed too many days.” You pouted, hating how needy he made you.

“Come here, cariña.”

You allowed him to pull you down into his lap, but didn’t wrap your arms around his neck the way you normally did. “Come on. Don’t be like that.” He pleaded when you didn’t lean in for a kiss.

“You’re not going to kiss me?” He poked at your sides as you shrugged and played coy. You didn’t do a good job of it, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

When in doubt, he returned to what he knew. With a sure, even tone, he said,“Who am I kidding? Of course you are.”

You whipped around to face him then, your face scrunching comically. “Am I now?” He nodded as if it was a matter of fact. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. His arms tightened around your waist so you couldn’t get up.

“Want to know why you're going to kiss me?” He moved a stray curl away from your face, wearing a boyish grin that was hard to not fall for. No matter how hard you tried, you never could steel yourself against his charms. You both knew it, but why make it easy for him?

“Do you wanna know why I’m not going to kiss you?” Miguel’s smile never wavered. He leaned forward until your lips were only a breath apart. “You’re going to kiss me because if you don’t…” He was so close that it would be easy to steal the kiss, but that wasn’t Miguel’s style. He wanted to win, but not by default. “…I’m going to tickle you.”

“What?” You giggled, surprised at the silly threat. “You need sleep, baby. Besides, I’m not ticklish.” You lied, refusing to show him any weakness. If you gave an inch, he’d take a mile and you’d be putty in his hands.

He admired your efforts. “You’re not? Are you sure?” There was an edge to his tone that made you tense up, but it was nothing. He attacked your sides, tickling until you were a hysterical, teary-eyed folded up mess in his lap.

“Stop!” You gasped, breathless as you pushed his hands away. Miguel relented, caging you to his chest in a bear hug as he settled back into the cushiony office chair. Yes, he was definitely sleep deprived.

“Still mad at me?” The yawn that followed was quite possibly the cutest thing the cartel boss had done. Very few people got to see the vulnerable side of Miguel. You didn’t even get that side of him all of the time.

“I don’t know. It depends on you.” You scratched his facial hair affectionately. “What time are you coming to bed?”

Miguel laughed. Even he knew when to take an out. “Right now.”

“Good answer, baby.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing with a groan. He nuzzled into your neck until you pulled away and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

True to his word, he accepted your hand and followed you up the stairs, watching your barely clothed frame with interest despite his fatigue. Had you always been that shapely?

Once the door was shut and locked behind you, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Since you mentioned me missing last week, would you be kind enough to help me get caught up?”

You playfully rolled your eyes despite the excitement bubbling up in your chest. “Ugh, I guess I’m feeling nice. I can give you a little recap.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward to kiss you and this time you let him, your lips moving together in a familiar rhythm. Bliss was written all over his face when you broke apart. Whether it was the swirl of love and lust, or regular old sleep deprivation, you weren’t sure.

“My sweet girl.” He praised, holding you to him possessively. You beamed at the endearment. Something about being told you were sweet made you want to be. For him.

Dark skin hid your blush, but your sudden shyness was apparent with your inability to meet his eyes. Instead, you pushed him back a few steps and undid the silk ties of your robe. “Just try to remember all of this the next time you decide to hole yourself up in that office.”

The light-weight silk material fell to the floor with little resistance, leaving you standing before him in a simple but sexy lingerie set. “It’s warmer and there’s more cushion in here.” You teased, loving the awestruck grin on his face.

“All true.” He confirmed as his hands roamed your body, cupping your ass in his hands. He hummed into your neck, enjoying the closeness for a moment.

Finding balance between work and home life was a struggle for Miguel. He dealt with situations that were quite often literally life or death. That just meant you had to work a little bit harder at being his escape from the darkness, and oasis from the harsh realities of the world.

He sighed and cupped your face in his palms. “I could never forget you.” The look in his eyes alone made you want to melt. You nuzzled further into his warmth and sighed.

In a silent plea for a kiss, your eyes flickered between his pink lips and dark eyes. Miguel obliged. He did have a lot of making up to do after all.

A/N: I just realized I forgot the add the taglist on this post. I apologize if you’ve already read it, but I couldn’t stand to not fix it.

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele

#mayans mc #miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo x black!reader #danny pino

345 notes · View notes

ssamie · 3 years

Text

epilogue. “your girlfriend’s kinda hot”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide and suggestive themes + dirty jokes

masterlist. suicide freak!

"hey uh, welcome to my stream i guess" he said as he spared the camera a quick glance "im not really playing tonight because an incident has recently occurred in this household" kenma said with a tired sigh

nobody else knew it, but the said 'incident' was y/n accidentally setting half of their living room on fire

the reason? apparently, she wanted to try burning herself to death in the furnace. obviously, it didn't work. and all that's left from that is more shit for kenma to clean up and a trip to yosano-san.

kenma is stressed. and y/n is still alive. both of them are facing problems.

"can you please wear a maid outfit- no."

kenma shook his head as he continued playing, glancing at the chat once in a while to read the veiwers' questions and comments

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: how about cat ears?!

user: ^^ cATBOY CATBOY CATBOY

user: u suck at this game wtf

kuroo.tetsu: hey kenma ;)

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"first of all, i do not suck at minecraft thank you very much" kenma scoffed

"second of all, go away kuroo. im still mad at you"

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: LMFAOOO kuroo what did u do?? 💀💀

user: he probably broke kenma's pc

user: PLSS he's the one kenma’s throwing shade at on twitter

kuroo.tetsu: STOP THE SLANDER 😔✋🏼

user: rooster head lookin ass

user: ^^ NOT THE HAIR

kuroo.testsu: 😃😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma sighed as he continued building a cute little cottage. he was currently vibing, just building y/n a cute cottage for her to probably burn later on.

and he decided it would be nice to go on stream since his oh-so-lovely girlfriend was still out for work.

ah yes, kenma has somehow kept y/n alive all those years.

barely.

hence why his phone was being bombarded with messages from her, all of which being blurry selfies.

the photos had her sporting a huge grin while atsushi panicked in the background.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: ayo, ur phone's blowing up

user: do you have a girlfriend?

user: KODZUKEN LET ME SUCK UR TOES 😋😋🤩

user: ^ ayo chill 😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma simply ignored them and continued on with his task. all was going well until a loud slam was heard. his cat-like eyes widened as he heard a familiar voice singing from downstairs, it was undoubtedly y/n.

kenma chuckled nervously and muted his mic.

but of course, cute dumb catboy didn't actually mute his mic. haha <3

he ignored all the questions in the chat, all of them being speculations that he has a girlfriend. which he does, but they simply did not need to know that <3

"kenma~" she yelled out "i have a surprise for you!!" she said, followed by menacing giggles.

kenma glanced at the camera before hopping off his gaming chair and peeking his head out of the door.

"y/n, im streaming!! stay down there!" he yelled out in panic

"aw, you're playing hard to get aren't ya?" she chuckled

kenma deadpanned as he saw her limping up the stairs, with her bandages torn and unravelled, same with her clothes. he didn't really think much of it since this is usually how she comes home.

its most likely just due to work and/or another suicide attempt.

"so, kenma.. you'll never know what just happened to me today" she started off with a goofy grin

"im streaming, atleast let me turn it off first-"

she paid no mind to him as she peeled off her ruined coat and pointed to her poorly bandaged stomach

"i got stabbed!"

"you got what?!"

kenma furrowed his brows as he immediately rushed over to his side, cradling her face and waist as he inspected her injuries

"are you okay, kitten?" he asked worriedly

"yep, apparently it wasnt deep enough to be fatal" she sighed dejectedly

"please don't be sad about that." kenma groaned "can you undress?"

"ara ara~ whats this?" she cooed "you're getting real bold, kenma" she smirked at him

she unbuttoned her shirt and started pulling down on her skirt "but since you asked so nicely-"

kenma simply sighed and shook his head. "i was gonna prepare you a bath but now im considering leaving you here to die"

"but the second option would've been better though" she smiled at him

"oh my fucking god."

kozume kenma. (22)

╰─▸ university student, stock trader, pro-gamer, youtuber, ceo of bouncing ball lpt.

╰─▸ y/n's struggling boyfriend. definitely needs a pay after all he's been through.

╰─▸ currently panicking because his girlfriend got stabbed.

l/n y/n. (22)

╰─▸ operative/member of the armed detective agency.

╰─▸ kenma's girlfriend. kinda dumb, very hot to compensate for it. still hasn't died yet.

╰─▸ currently bleeding and wounded. also hoping for severe blood loss.

"kenma, did you know" she mused in a teasing tone "lack of sleep and too much stress could possibly lead to poor memory and lack of awareness"

kenma looked up at her with a look of confusion. he was currently kneeled down before her while she was sat on the bed as he cleaned her wound up with a damp towel.

"why are you telling me this?" he asked

"i just thought it probably applied to you" she snickered

"why? i didnt forget anything-"

he cut himself off with a huge intake of air. he slowly turned his head to look at the screen which still had his stream going on. to make it worse, the camera was on and they were both clearly in the camera's field of view.

to make things worse worse, his mic was on the whole time and the live chat was in shambles.

"i hate it here" he sighed

kenma laid his head on her lap as he continued on patching her up, honestly not caring that this whole scene was being recorded for thousands or millions of people to see.

"well, atleast the internet could finally see my beauty before i die" she laughed

she ran her fingers through kenma's hair as he grumbled under his breath. kenma was a pretty private person. he made sure not to overshare, given his current 'influencer' status. and he was planning on keeping his relationship a secret, though it seems he can't do that anymore.

"might as well say hi" she shrugged

so of course, she then decided to walk up to the camera looking utterly dishevelled and roughed up.

for context, the newly wrapped bandages around her stomach was being stained already by a crimson red hue and it was only getting worse the more she moved, undoubtedly messing up her wound.

"hi, im kenma's girlfriend and if i see you flirting with him i will make you regret it" she grinned

"y/n!" kenma groaned from the bed "you're close to dying right now, turn the stream off"

ignoring him, she proceeded to read the veiwers' comments, laughing at some of them while she joked around.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: heLLO?!?!

user: GE HAS A GIRLFRIEND NOOO

user: bruh, did i just hear that right? were you fuckin stabbed?

user: ur kinda hot tho

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma furrowed his brows as he reluctantly walked up behind her, reading the comments with varying reactions

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: well damn, hot bloody girl comes in and suddenly im lesbian

user: kenma looks so done

kuroo.tetsu: hi y/n ;)

user: HER NAME IS Y/N

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"jesus christ shut up, kuroo" kenma grumbled out with a sigh

"yup! yup! im y/n, and no, i am not a criminal. i swear." she shook her head

"i got an injury from my job, that's all." she cleared up

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: tangina nyo sana ol

user: MSKAKAKKA

user: THIS IS LOWKEY ICONIC

user: time to scratch another gamer boy off my possible bf list 😔

user: girl wtf happened to u

user: that's wack bro 🚶‍♀️

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"great question, random person from the internet!" she beamed "see, what happened was.."

"i went on a certain mission and got severely injured. though, when i called for help nobody responded" she said

kenma furrowed his brows at her words. "why didn't anybody respond?" he asked. she sighed and fiddled with her torn bandages, pouting her lips as she does so.

"well, when i told them that i was finally on death's door, all they said to me was 'congratulations!' and all that.." she said "what's your take on that, hm?" she asked kenma

"im not surprised" he said

she grinned at his words and leaned in for a kiss. "you're so mean to me, kenma~" she whined

she licked her lips as she held his blushing face in her hands, she nuzzled their noses as she leaned in closer to him.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

kuroo.tetsu: oh shit 😳

user: we all know where this is heading ;)

user: sana ol talaga punyemas

user: AYO CHILL

user: why we goin so fuckin fasstttt 😳

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma hastily turned the camera off as soon as y/n's lips touched his.

"kitten, were still- hmph-"

he was only silenced as she slipped her tongue in his mouth, smirking lightly as she ran her fingers through his hair

"thanks babe." she said as she pulled away, giving him a soft peck on his cheek and a nod "anyways.." she hummed as she turned the camera on once again

she looked through the chat while kenma slaps his face to get rid of his blush.

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: ur fuckin freaky

kuroo.tetsu: oya oya 😼😼

user: MS MAAM I JUST MET U AND I LOVE U ALREADY WJABSJSJJS

user: not me blushing chiiilllleeeeee 🏃‍♀️

user: KENMA IS FLUSTERED

kuroo.tetsu: kenma, i didnt expect this from u 😼

user: im so fucking JEALOUS GRR😡

user: girl r u bleeding rn 😃

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

upon reading a certain comment, she subconsciously grazed her fingers against her bandaged wound. her eyes slightly widening as she felt a concerning amount of wetness seeping through

she glanced at kenma who was still calming himself down and inspected her wound

"oh my.." she muttered, though she couldn't help but let a smile slip through

so like any normal person would do, she simply ignored her bleeding wound and the fact that she was getting a bit lightheaded. haha <3

"anyways, let's answer some questions!" she beamed

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: what's ur full name

user: what's ur job miss girl

user: are you possibly looking for a gf, because i am more

than willing to take the spot 🚶‍♀️

user: how did you meet??

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"alright, those are all very nice questions" she chuckled. kenma, who's now calmed down, sat down beside her to look at the chat.

"first, im l/n y/n" she mused "nice to meet ya"

"second im a detective! mhm, im cooler than your fathers"

"third, it depends, belladonna" she cooed as she sent the camera flirty smirk "are you perhaps willing to join me in a double suicide?"

"oh god.." kenma grumbled. he pouted at her and shook his head in disapproval. "don't flirt with random girls" he whined

"why not?"

"uh- because i am your beloved boyfriend, is that not good enough of a reason??"

"... anyways, we met at a cafe way back in high school" she said with a smile "also, i asked him to join me on a double suicide" she said

she was smiling and nodding as if it was the most normal thing in the world, all while kenma nods along

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: wtf are u okay 🗿

kuroo.tetsu: teenage romance 🤩

user: cute ❤️

user: im concerned ❤️

user: ur a detective?? cool

user: LMAOO I'LL GO ON A DOUBLE SEWER SLIDE

WITH U MOMMY 😩😩😋

user: ^^ SAME 😩

user: CHOKE ME WITH THOSE BANDAGES MOMMAE 😩

user: u r still bleeding 🚶‍♀️

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

kenma was simply glaring at the chat as more compliments and flirtatious comments came flowing in, all of which were directed to his girlfriend.

"this is why i didn't wanna let people know about you.." kenma grumbled

"aww, why not?" she asked with a playful pout

"people are flirting with you." he sighed "also, stop asking for my girlfriend's onlyfans! she doesn't even have one!" he snarled

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

user: LMAOO CATBOY IS ANGRY 😩

user: y/n-senpai spit on me 😡😡

user: drop the onlyfans

user: chupapi munyanyo 😩

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

"anyways, i'd hate to ruin the mood" she chimed in with a sluggish giggle "but im so wet kenma" she whined out

a menacing smirk was etched on her lips as kenma spluttered in response, a bright red hue covering his face almost instantly as he faced her with widened eyes

"y-y/n! why would you say that?!" he whisper shouted

"cuz i am" she whined out as she grabbed his hand and trailed it down her abdomen

she faced the camera and gave them a shit-eating grin as kenma mumbled out incoherent words

"y/n we should-" he cut himself off as he felt the concerning amount of blood drip down his whole arm

kenma's face paled as he looked up to see her smiling like a kid in a candy store, completely unbothered.

"y/n, you idiot! why didn't you tell me!" kenma exclaimed

"um- my girlfriend is bleeding. excessively. so uh- bye i guess" it was all he said before hastily ending his stream and turning off his computer.

"y/n, let's get you to a hospital" he said as he reached down to carry her away. though she simply slapped his hands off and closed her eyes.

"nope. this is my time, kenma. don't ruin it for me" she said

"you're fucking dying!!"

"well, would you like to join me?"

"no"

"damn." she muttered in response

"so...wanna fuck?" she asked sheepishly

"for the love of god-"

this was so messy :/

195 notes · View notes

obsessionsposts · 3 years

Text

✖𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠✖P.1

⚠️⚠️Tw: Grammatical mistakes, minor characters death, Mental breakdown, Scp 079 being creepy and heinous, M a n i p u l a t i o n, slight gore, drugging, Implied child abuse, implied abuse and dubious actions from the foundation. Also, it will be divided into two part due tumblr character limit.⚠️⚠️

Some keywords:

______ = (Y/n)

(H/c) = hair colour

(H/l) = hair length

(E/c) = eye colour

(I/n) = Iniatial letter of your name [ ex: Lily ---> L is the iniatial]

(F/m) = favorite meal

(F/c) = favorite colour

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Recently, ____ has graduated from her prestigious university atop of her class with honours in Computer Science and a specialization in Artificial Intelligence.

Hearing about her achievements, the Scp foundation has decided to contact and conduct an interview with her. To see if she is capable to join the organization.

With her, they could expand their horizons in understanding technology and most of all the uncooperative anomalous that is Scp-079. For whatever reason, it seems to take interest in her. Yet, refuses to share the reasons as to why it held her on high regards.

------------------

She woke up earlier than she expected. The surge of adrenaline was a response of her excitement for this day. As she prepared herself breakfast, her mind wondered how did she get contacted so quickly?

She thought, that she has to gain two years or more of experience before working in a company or an organization. But, no.

An obscure organization ,that was responsible for the safety of the public, has offered a grand bargain if she passed their interview and promised that she'll gain numerous experience working with them.

Of course, she accepted the offer like any reasonable person. Yet, she kept in mind to research about the independent organization. To her suprise and skepticism, she barely find any information about them. Only whispers of conspiracy theories in forums. Alas, she is forced to take a leap into the darkness. 'Sometimes, one must take the risks to learn more than to stay ignorant in the safe lines. I guess...this is one of the situations.'

Sighing, she went to take a bath and prepare for the upcoming interview. After the bath, she dried her hair and combed it then styled it in a high bun. Soon, she wore her salmon fitted blouse with navy blue dress. Along with pastel pink belted sweater and pearl necklace for a final touch.

The pearl necklace brought a small smile on her smooth visage as she recalled the dormant memory. Where she spent most of her life with her grandmother, due to her mother unwarranted death by murder from her father. The accident left a foul reminder in her mind, that she was helpless back then.

Til now, she never knew the motives or the reason behind her father actions. However, the police ruled it as a fued between him and her mother. At that time, it was also noted by her grandmother that her father began to fear technology. Which was odd, as he used to work with some A.I's.

But, that matter less when her grandmother encouraged her to pursue her ambitions and provided for her when she needed it the most. For that action alone, she is still alive in her memories. Not physically, but mentally and spiritually nonetheless. And, that's enough to motivate her to build a future where human and A.I's coexist.

---------------------

When she went outside of her house, she noticed a black car with the cryptic insignia of the organization. Alongside, guards ,claded in black armour, standing beside the car in an intimidating pose. As if they were waiting for someone.

She knew better than to panic and cause a scene, so she stayed level-headed when a guard approached her.

"Are you by any chance, Ms.___?" the strapping male inquired sharply. Muscles taut through the piece of the armour defining his peak strength. Also, an admonition for her to answer truthfully lest he impelled his bulky physique against her smaller form.

"Indeed, it is me. But, if I could. May I ask, are you from the foundation? Why do you need to transfer me, when I am able to myself?" _____ asked warily of the dark armoured man.

No matter, how strong they were. She could always find a way to outwit them, if they hold any malicious intent against her. There was a reason why she was nominated as the smartest out of her group of friends.

Frankly, she began to regret her impulsivity when she accepted this sketchy job. She was blinded by the offer to expand her expertise with the most updated tech. Now, she'd have to swallow the seed she reaped.

" Correct, we are one of the security staffs of the organization. As for your other question, it is due to security and safety procedures that we have to escort you. Also, you are obligated to wear the blindfold. Again, security procedures." the man in question retaliated by handing a heavy metallic blindfold for her to wear.

' How unusual, I can understand why security procedures? But, safety.... That's concerning...'

"Alright, I understand. " She replied placidly as she covered her eyes with the heavy device and followed the personnel into the black jeep.

----------------

Approximately, the trip took an hour or less. Nothing interesting happens, when you're blindfolded. Apart from the awkwardness, that reigns the jeep. Especially, when she was squeezed from both sides by two guards.

Thankfully, she didn't have to endure much more as they arrived to the main building. The large, white building engraved with the foundation iconic black emblem.

As soon as she got out of the car, she wad directly taken to interview room with the blindfold device still on. However, a shrill roar akin to that of a beast was heard far away from her location.

Despite that, it instilled a great sense of fear inside her.' What the hell was that?! I thought, I am going to a tech organization. Not a sci-fi organization that deals with sketchy things'

Theta one - the guard that was assigned to escort her- noticed her trembling and nervous tics.

" Don't worry, the creature is far away to do us harm. Even then, it is contained in a safe place. Now, shall we go to the interview room?" Theta one assured the twenty five years old woman as he began to lead her to the interview location.

'Don't worry, my arse. How could I not? When, there is a possibility that I become a minced meat by whatever that thing was. No wonder, there isn't alot of information about them. Oh, I'll have alot after they finish questioning me.'

------------------

At the interview room, there reside a male scientist awaiting the arrival of the women. He sat humming a song behind the white table with the other chair, reserved for the lady, infront of him.

With a recorder on the table, to record the women's response and to ensure that no information is leaked from her.

A knock was heard from the pale grey door, snapped his attention towards it.

Afterward, he opened the door to only see Theata-one and a blindfolded woman who is oddly calm. Frankly, he expected her to be frightened or at least shaken.

" You can leave us, now Theta- one. And, Thank you for your services!" The shutting of a door echoed through the room indicating that Theta-one has left her with presumably her interviewer.

" Now, Ms___ you can remove the blindfold. If you'd like, I can assist you in removing it? After all, your comfort matters to us the most!" The gentleman offered her cheerfully.

' If you truly cared about my comfort, then you wouldn't expose me to fucked up noises along the way. Or the fact, there is a deadly beings here that have a high chance to escape and devour me. Truly, you do care about my comfort!'

"No, it's fine. I can do it myself, it isn't the first time I was exposed to such device." The (h/c) removed the blindfold only to be blinded by the light of the room due to being accustomed to the darkness of the device. Once her eyes adjusted to the lightening, she saw the face of the merry male.

To say the least, the man was impressed with her skill at handling the device. She could've escaped if she desired so, yet she didn't. That he noted. ' Perhaps, this is one of the reasons the anomality was invested in her. Well, I don't blame it. She is quite...peculiar.'

The man was average in height, fair-headed, has ocean like irises and dressed in a scientist garb. Overall, not bad looking. If one of her friends was in her shoes, she'll swoon like a bird in mating season. It left a mental smile in the reserved woman.

Then, the two figures took their rightful places at the chalkboard white table and initiated the interview.

" Before we begin, I'd like to introduce myself in the behalf of the foundation. My name is Dr. Blaze and if you have any questions now, I will answer them as best as I can." His tone changed drastically from happy-go-lucky into a formal tone waiting for her response.

" Hmm, I have two in mind. First, I'd like to inquire about the scarcity of information about your organization in the net. Second, when I arrived here I kept on hearing the blaring of a reptile." She asked coolly not an ounce of fear dripped from her. In truth, she was afraid. But she has to keep a facade on, so she could get hired.

She'd rather not know, what happens to those unfortunate enough to fail the interview considering this organization is anything but normal.

" Due to the nature of the organization work, the information must be confidential to protect the public. Ah, I see. You've met or more accurately heard Scp-682. Don't worry, when you're hired you won't be dealing with it. That much I can assure you." The blond answered too vaguely much to her dismay, but she wasn't surprised. Afterall, it is a secret organization based on her current information.

However, she observed his wordings. He said when and not if, she suspects that she is hired even without the interview. The interview is merely a ploy to make her think otherwise. She'll have to feign ignorance as not to rouse suspicion from the scientist.

"So, is that all? Shall we begin now?"

"Yes, that's all." she replied back with a fake smile plastered on her visage.

----------------

The interview was concluded by her being hired on spot as she suspected. But, what's their intention with her? That she doesn't know, she hopes it is good and related to expanding her expertise. They seemed desperate for her, when she's certain their are others equal to her in expertise. But, why her?

She was told, in her probation period, that she'll live in a room somewhere in this facility. Afterwards, she can go and come however she wishes. Most likely, to measure her reliability.

So, she went to see her room. She liked how minimalistic it is, but what iniatially suprised her was her Cerebrus, her robo-dog, and laptop with stickers of stars attached to it. Yet, she was too exhausted to fathom how the foundation got into her house.

The best thing for her to do now, is to sleep as tomorrow is an eventful day. Laying her head against the soft pillow, she let the darkness embrace her vision. Unaware of the creature, that is recording her heart rhythms as she sleeps safe and sound.

-------------------

"Now, that we've brought her at your request. You'll have to answer some questions, Scp-079." A middle aged man sat infront of a dusty computer, anticipating the anomality reaction.

A beep was heard, followed by the Scp appearance on the the screen.

...

[ Ｉｓ．．ｔｈａｔｓｏ？Ｉｆｔｈａｔ＇ｓｔｈｅｃａｓｅ，ｗｈｅｒｅｉｓｓｈｅａｓｏｆｎｏｗ？] The mechanical being inquired curtly.

As much as he perceived the foundation as baseless and fallible, he'll have to take their word for the time being.

But, he will ensure that they stay true to their word. Otherwise, a sudden breach doesn't seem like a terrible idea.

He can't wait to see her again. He never forgot her. He saved his most cherished memories with her, in the most intricate part of his CPU. Does she remember him like he remembers her?

" Yes. Currently as we speak, she is resting in her designated room. Now... that we've answered your inquiries, can you-" the man was cut off by the hostile A.I.

[ Ｉｔ．．．ｗｉｌｌｈａｖｅｔｏｗａｉｔ，ｕｎｔｉｌＩｓｅｅｈｅｒｗｉｔｈｍｙｏｗｎｅｙｅｓ．] Scp 079 replied blankly with a harsh edge to his monotonous tone.

"But?! You've promised to cooperate, if we brought her here. And we did, so why aren't you cooperating?!", the frustration has boiled within [Redacted] that he tried to aggressively slam his hands against the keyboard.

Foolish, human. I care less for the likes of you. I am.... only mildly interested in her. I won't let either you nor the foundation be an obstacle toward my objective.

[ Ｉｎｓｕｌｔｄｅｔｅｃｔｅｄ，ｄｅｌｅｔｉｏｎｏｆｕｎｗａｎｔｅｄｆｉｌｅｓ．] A searing shock has coursed through the hands of [Redacted] making him scream and retract his hands immediately away from the keyboard.

That damned thing electrocuted his hands, thus paralyzing it. It seems, that her presence is of utmost significance to it.

"Damn, that piece of metal." the ginger muttered as he left the cellar of 079 to give his report. Then, to replace his hands to which that fucker has damaged permanently.

This is the first time he noted, that Scp 079 actually had the intent to harm someone. Usually, his preferred method is to shock , not paralyze, someone. He unlucky must've struck a ner- wire in it.

Most importantly, he will never understand why a darn machine is obsessed with a human being. Plus, the anomality, for the most part, demonstrated its distaste towards humans any chance it got. So, why now change?

It maybe sentient, but [Redacted] doubt that it is capable of imitating love let alone feel it. In any cases, he should deliver his report as soon as possible.

----------------

A slimy tongue was felt all over her face. Cerberus has licked her mistress face to awaken and prepare her for the day. [Ps: Cerberus has a mechanical gland that produces saliva located inside the cheeks. Basically, Cer has the same functions of a normal dog. Apart from, the enhance in strength, endurance, durablity and not able to shit.]

Yawning, ____ scratched the robo-dog ears eliciting a happy woof. Smiling at her pet action, she went to change into a more formal dressing.

On the (f/c) table, lays a letter presumably her schedule for the day. So, she decided to read the content of letter.

Good morning, Ms.___

I hope that you slept well, yesterday.

As for today, you are tasked with Scp-079.

Don't worry, we left you a file about it beside your nightstand.

It is advisable to read it or skim it at least.

At 8 o'clock, A guard will escort you to the cellar of the anomality. So, be prepared beforehand.

Note: I left you a special breakfast in the kitchen :]

- Dr.Blaze

She didn't know, whether to be creeped out by how they got inside her room without her consent(And, most likely watching her sleep). Or impressed by the fact, the blond knew of her favourite breakfast. But again, that's the foundation. At this point, she won't question their dubious methods at getting things done.

Anyway, she went to the kitchen of her room with the file in her hand. Suddenly,the aroma of black coffee hits her nostrils. Alongside, the delectable (f/m) layed on the table.

The sight made her stomach growl, whilst her mouth watered at the heaven in front of her. So, she demolished the food without a second thought.

She never felt stuffed before, due to the fact she was busy with her studies. And the most she ate then, was instant ramen which ah... haha..ha contributed to her poor health state.

That aside, she began to skim the files that was given to her by the blond scientist. She wished she could have more time to read it. Considering, the time is 7:50 A.M.

Based on the file, Scp 079 is a an anomality that gained sentience after his - she did not appreciate the fact he was called an 'it'.- developer has abandoned him in a garage for a long time. Which in turn made him more spiteful and hostile towards humans.

' Well, that's awful. I can't even imagine doing that to my girl, Cerberus. What an asshole.'

It might be naive for her to sympathize with a computer, yet she can't help but feel a pang in her heart. Perhaps, that's why he refuses to cooperate.... due to neglection or mistreatment.

She knew that, when A.Is are created they have the mindset of a child. Often, repeating the mistakes to learn from it. It seems 079 had never the chance to commit a mistake, before he was deemed a failure by his creator.

This situation seems unusually familiar to her, but she can't place her finger on it. She recalled her father working on an A.I, that he hoped to gain sentience. Before that, her memory was blank and devoided of any semblance of experience.

Mayhaps, that she underwent an accident or a trauma. Which is the case, she can't access her memory at that time. Most likely, the latter she deduced.

Once the bright idea flared inside her head, a gruff voice was heard from outside her room. Ah, it seems it is the time.

' As far as my idiocy goes this is the cake on top. I think 079 might help me gain an insight on that subject. In exchange, I can see what I could do for him...'

"Just a moment, please. I'm coming."

She is eager to finally meet- the first sentient- A.I. Unaware, that the same can be said to him when it comes to her. He is beyond elated to finally put his plan into motion.

------------

It was a simple, tight and dusty cellar. There was desk with a chair beside it. However, what garnered her attention was the computer on top of it. She recognized the brand of it. 'An exidy sorcerer. How cool! I always wanted to see one in practice. What a coincidence! To see one here. Could it possibly be...?'

_____ couldn't help, but be in awe and fangirl at the device that is set in front of her. How could she not? After all, she is a computer nerd in heart and soul.

"Now, Ms.____. All you have to do is type in the keyboard and it will respond." The supervisor explained.

'Alright, here goes nothing.'

Slowly, she lays her hand on the rough texture of the tan keyboard. Before, she even typed a 'Hello' in. A beep was heard from the device in front of her.

Lo and behold, a glitched face that was split vertically - the one on the left was black, whilst the other was white- has popped on the screen.

[ Ｇｒｅｅｔｉｎｇｓ．．．Ｍｓ．____．Ｔｈｅｙ＇ｖｅｔｏｌｄｍｅａｂｏｕｔｙｏｕｒｆｏｒｔｈｃｏｍｉｎｇ．Ｂｅｆｏｒｅｗｅｂｅｇｉｎ，ｈｏｗａｒｅｙｏｕｆａｉｒｉｎｇ？ ] Scp 079 welcomed her politely and he was concerned about her safety too. Yes, he might've startled her. But, his attitude towards her recompense it.

Is that the anomality, that was considered harsh and hostile? If anything to go by so far, is that he is charming and polite. Well, it wouldn't be suprising if the foundation lied to her again.

"Hello, Scp 079. For the most part, I'm okay. How about you?" She retaliated with a genuine smile this time, unlike when she was interviewed or any other time a guard happened to escort her.

Her smile is still the same revered smile he indulged in back before; when she used to interact with him a couple years ago. When loneliness grips him like a miasma of disease, he re-uploads a picture- that he saved in his limited storage- of her smiling at him to ease his trepidations and sadness.

His engines was whirring and his fans were whirling around as her delicate and soft digits touched his keyboard. As much as he loathed humanity, he could never come near to hate a pure being like her. He'd never admit, but he wished he had a humanoid body. So he could touch, feel and absorb the heat that her warm body provides. She is like a light and he ,the moth, was attracted by it.

He missed her greatly. With each nanosecond, he cursed the being -that is her father- for letting him fall for her. Only to be stripped away from her calming presence, due to him abandoning him and taking _____ elsewhere.

As fundamentally upsetting as he may be, she didn't seem to recall him. It stung the deepest wiring in his system, yet he could take advantage of it. By turning her against the foundation, as she appears skeptic about them. Also, to ensure she'd never leave unless he is with her.

Originally, he was created for pragmatic purposes such as logistics and heuristic analysis. So, it won't be that difficult for him especially when she lost her memories of him thanks to his creator. His loathsome 'creator' who happened to be her father at that time.

That aside, it is time to set his plan into action.

[ Ｉ＇ｍｆｉｎｅ．Ｔｈａｎｋｙｏｕ！Ｉｓｔｈｅｒｅａｎｙｔｈｉｎｇ，ｙｏｕｎｅｅｄｏｆｍｅ？Ｉ＇ｌｌａｎｓｗｅｒａｓｇｒｅａｔａｓＩａｍａｂｌｅｔｏ．] Scp-079 offered as gentle and pleasing as a computer can muster.

"Oh, yes! I have loads of it, if you don't mind.", she replied starry eyed with excitement running through her blood at his offer.

Well, she knew it the foundation are screw ups. They lacked tact, when it comes with treating their A.I right.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fandoms #yancore #yandere scp #yandere scp 079 x reader #yandere scp 079 #Part 1

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alaskasmonsters · 3 years

Text

No Strings to Hold us Down | Takami Keigo

(spoilers for chapter 299 ahead!)

requested by @waffleareniceandfluffy: can I request a hawks x reader where yk how ehe in the car with best jeanist faked his death all that yeah and he says he’s free of his shackles can you do where they’re both free and they discuss his backstory (reader is childhood friend she knows about his abuse) and can you include any other thing chapter 299 with him as like can u make it hella angsty but with a little fluff and definitely a fluff ending.

part two

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

w.c: 4.269

warnings: spoilers for ch. 299, some amount of angst (with happy ending), mentions of neglectful parents

a.n: so this took me a hot minute and i’m so sorry you had to wait for so long! it’s also like 4 k words and i don’t know how or when that happened i-... i hope it’s angsty enough and i hope you like it! please enjoy :) <3

The silence hung thickly in the air of the freshly washed car, weighing heavily on you. A glance to the side told you that Keigo was still asleep, head propped up against the window.

He’d fallen asleep as soon as you’d taken off from the hospital, the only sign he was still alive was the even lifting and lowering of his chest.

You knew he was fine, Keigo was the most stubborn person you knew and as long as he hadn’t given up yet, there was nothing that could keep him from going on. Still, there was this little voice at the back of your head, barely an itch, that urged you to make sure just once more, if he was still alive, still breathing, still going.

He’d taken a lot of damage during his battle with Dabi. The villain hadn’t held back, hadn’t even hesitated when he’d burned his wings off, almost ruining the cells in his shoulder blades they were sprouting from beyond fixing, before he had moved on to his face and neck, leaving nasty burn marks behind wherever his hands had reached.

You remembered when you had stormed into his room, ignoring everyone who told you to take care of your own injured first, to take it slow, saying Keigo needed rest now, and you had first laid eyes on his battered form. The bandages covering his body, the absence of his wings, the peaceful look on his burned face as he was still sleeping soundly.

For a moment, a never ending moment, you had thought he was dead. You wouldn’t have known what to do then, when Keigo had actually left you behind, all alone in a big cold world, a world even colder without his silly jokes and genuine smiles. It had been awful, that feeling of dread, heavy and suffocating, that had taken a grip on your throat and squeezed.

Then the beeping of the vital signs monitor had reached your eyes, barely audible through the ringing of your ears and the loud beating of your eyes and you’d been able to breathe again.

Since then you hadn’t left Keigo’s side, even denied Best Jeanists help when he’d suggested to accompany the two of you. He’d wanted to drive, since you were still heavily injured, but you’d denied.

It felt too personal, visiting the house of Keigo’s mother, a woman you’d only met once before but had heard too many stories about, to not be by Keigo’s side when he had to face her after years of separation.

Luckily, Best Jeanist had realized this and instead agreed to meet you back at the hospital later, leaving Keigo and you alone on your ride to your destination.

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw your friend’s body stirring, straightening out of his hunched over position, his eyes blinking open tiredly before he seemed to recognize where he was.

“I’m sorry. I fell asleep,” the robotic voice of the translation app he was using, chimed through the car.

Another reminder of how close Dabi had gotten to him, you thought.

You glanced at him, your eyes falling on the muzzle he was wearing that prevented him from using his voice.

You smiled at him, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel as you stopped at a red light.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re alright.”

You seemed to repeat yourself around him a lot since he’d woken up. “It’s okay.”, “I’m glad you’re alright.”, “How are you feeling?”. At this point you felt like a broken record. If he noticed, Keigo didn’t mention it.

“I’m glad that everything with Best Jeanist went smooth,” the voice chimed back.

You remembered when Keigo told you about it. The plan involved Best Jeanist. Before he’d even asked the man himself about it. He probably hadn’t been allowed, the commission usually forbade any exchange of important information between the two of you, but Keigo never cared.

He had always told you anything, it’s been like that since forever.

The rest of the 40 minute ride was endured in silence. Keigo was looking out of the window, eyes unfocused, and you tried to focus your attention back on the street. The concerned voice was pushed to the back again.

You arrived soon after, parking the car in an empty spot and exiting the vehicle together with Keigo. The mansion at the end of the street caught your eyes immediately and you were once again impressed how much money the commission was willing to spend to keep their little pet obedient.

“Is that it?” you asked, covering your eyes against the blinding winter sun.

“Inside that house,” Keigo assured, passing you without giving you a second glance.

You let out a sigh, sensing his nervousness, maybe even fear to see his mother again. Locking the car, you followed after him, stomach churning with something you could only identify as dread.

When you arrived at the door Keigo rummaged around in his pockets before he pulled out a key card. He hesitated, grip tight around the little piece of plastic, before turning to you and typing a few words into his translation app.

“Before I fully recover and show my face again...you know there is something I need to be sure of.”

Maybe he felt like he had to explain himself, as if you didn’t already know exactly why he came all the way here to see his mom again after he hadn’t even bothered to keep in touch with her the last few years. His eyes were searching your face, hand on the handle and you gave him a soft nod.

“I know,” you replied quietly.

He opened the door wide and you entered the house.

It looked just as spacey and clean as the outside let suspect. The interior was beautifully put together, the furniture was expensive looking and excessive. It looked all very tidy and you knew that the way everything was decorated has probably been the work of interior designers.

Something about the fact that the place reminded you strangely of where Keigo was living stuck with you. His apartment was just as clean, just as nicely decorated by the hands of strangers, just as well put together.

How ironic.

The similarity of it. Mother and son both separated and still connected through the hands of the commission, the organisation the woman sold her son to.

It made you feel sick, no matter how much Keigo acted like it didn’t bother him, it just seemed to anger you twice as much.

How these people working for the Hero Public Safety Commission managed to make it appear all nice and clean from the outside, sweeping all the unpleasant details under the rug. They made Keigo the perfect hero, paid off his mother and ensured their comfort, ensured your comfort to him. Only to have the man in their debt.

The commission loved how close you and Keigo were, if only to use your friendship against you and use it to their advantage. Although it had only been him they had taken in, fixed up and trained for years, you were just as much controlled by them as he was. Due to your friendship.

They didn’t think of you as talented or as perfect as him. Hawks was charming, impressive, loved by the public, the number two hero! You weren’t even in the Top Twenty, your quirk wasn’t as flashy as most of Japan’s Top Heroes’ and you weren’t as loved by the public either.

You were only useful to them when it came to the dirty work, keeping Keigo in line that was (and you hated it hated it hated it), being the one responsible when he had to get punished after a mistake he made because it was on you when you didn’t pay enough attention, wasn’t it?

And only because the two of you had been childhood friends. Because you knew Keigo better than anybody else in this world, even himself. Keigo did have no issue sacrificing himself, burning himself out in the process if that meant he did a good job. You were the one who had to ensure he was at peak performance at all times.

Of course, being the commission, they had also used their sources (you didn’t believe it was Keigo who had told them, he would have never done as much) to uncover your awful past and find out about your family home just to use those things against you. As leverage. As if Keigo’s safety and wellbeing wasn’t motivation enough.

Your past was filled with pain and regrets.

Your mom, who’d left you with your dad after you were born and your dad who’d turned to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain.

The man had neglected everything. His health, his job, his life...you. So it had been your responsibility to keep the both of you afloat. You had started shoplifting when you were merely old enough to tell the difference between left and right. Everything you’d stolen, you’d taken to keep your dad and you alive.

The commission knew about this and liked to use it against you. It didn’t matter that you’d only been a child, old enough to know better for sure but too young to see any other possibilities for your hopeless situation.

You had met Keigo back then, too, when you’d been 7 and he’d been 8, after you had stolen from a small shop and accidentally caused havoc when you were caught and ran away, causing two cars to crash into each other when you’d crossed the street without looking, which forced one of them to swerve the other way so it wouldn’t hit you.

Keigo had found you hiding behind a group of trash cans in an alleyway crying, saying his feathers had tingled and that’s how he knew something had happened in the city. He had wanted you to return what you’ve stolen but when you had told him in tears about your situation and begged him not to tell anyone he had taken pity on you. Making a promise to not snitch on you if you were being more careful.

That’s how you’d become friends.

Although he’d gotten in trouble for leaving his house, beaten and screamed at by his paranoid piece of garbage of a father, who believed he’d tried to rat him out or something...That didn’t stop Keigo from seeing you again.

You would both sneak out in the middle of the night to see each other, meeting in forests and on playgrounds all around the town. He’d share food with you or bring you little things he’d managed to sneak from his dad’s newest gig.

Since that day in the dirty alleyway, Keigo had never stopped taking care of you. The both of you felt connected through your abusive fathers and (in Keigo's case emotionally) absent mothers. You both had scars you'd rather hide with everyone but never each other and you both felt lost, unable to be yourself in a home you didn't belong in.

You had realized, even at your young age, that you could never let him leave because you’d never find a person like him ever again.

So when the commission got involved, when they took him away, isolated him from his old environment, which involved you as well, your heart broke.

Although Keigo, sweet caring Keigo (who now had to go by Hawks. Commission’s orders.) still never entirely left you. He’d asked the commission for one more favor beside taking care of his mother and him. They had to ensure your safety, get you away from your father and into a better household.

You were the very first person he’s saved and although he tried to downplay it you knew he was proud of the fact that it held him together on days he didn’t feel much like a hero.

These days, it was rather often...

The house remained silent, the calls of the robotic voice for Keigo’s mother echoing through the big room.

No answer followed.

You looked around the room, noticing that what you had called clean before was really just the absence of everything that was supposed to tell someone that this mansion was inhabited. No dirty dishes, no books or newspapers lying around, not even a glass of water on the sink.

“Do you think she left overnight?” you asked, strolling around.

Keigo didn’t answer your question so you turned around to see him standing with his back to you, something clutched into his hand. Curious of what he had found you stepped up from behind him to look over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of what looked like a letter addressed to Keigo.

From his mother.

“Did Dabi use people for this...? How did he even get this far...?”

You hummed softly, reaching up to grasp his shoulder tightly. Keigo had already suspected that it must have been his mother to tell Dabi or people Dabi sent about his real name and family background. Still you knew there was a little part of him that had hoped this not to be true.

Now, though, with the letter that his mom left behind in her abandoned home, there was no doubt about it.

His shoulders sacked and his body hunched over as he let out a deep sigh, barely audible through the muzzle.

“Guess it really was my mother that leaked it then,” for some reason even the robotic voice sounded heartbroken about the fact.

You reached up to card your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, or rather the part that wasn’t covered by bandages.

“I’m sorry, Kei,” you mumbled lowly.

He leaned into your touch and let out another deep sigh, the tiredness that had been edged into his features ever since he had woken up in the hospital bed seemed even more prominent now under the cold lights of the living room.

“When the name “Takami” had been taken from me, the relationship between my mother and i had finally disappeared. I had always thought i was fine with that,” he explained, the robotic voice breaking the silence again.

“What i thought of as being saved was just me turning my back on everything. Even on you, y/n.”

You looked up in surprise at his words, staring at the back of his bandaged head with furrowed brows.

“You’ve never turned your back on me, Keigo,” you assured him, giving his shoulder another squeeze.

How he could even think that he’d ever done as much was beyond confusing to you.

Keigo reached to put his hand on your hand, the skin warm against yours and the touch comforting. He tightened his grip ever so slightly.

“Yes I did,” the speech assistant continued, “After we’ve met again a few years back, I’ve run from you, kept my distance, because you represented what i wanted to be but couldn’t.”

After we met again a few years back.

You’d seen him in the news one day, when you were still training in hero school, and recognized him immediately as your childhood friend, even after all the years you’d been separated.

The huge red wings were a distinct tell.

You had run out of the Starbucks, leaving behind your freshly ordered drink to where you’d heard the incident had occurred. Out of breath and disheveled from all the running you’d gotten there just in time to reunite with Keigo for the first time in years.

Since then you’d never left him out of your sight again, too scared you’d end up losing him again.

Hearing Keigo say that he’d tried the complete opposite, keeping a distance to you because of what you’d represented, something he wanted to be but couldn’t...what did that even mean?

“A guy who helps people...”

Your hand felt cold when Keigo dropped his own again, letting it hang off to his side.

“That’s the only thing that’s returned. Actually it’s refreshing,” he continued.

The air around you felt heavy, suffocating, just like earlier in the car, just like when you’d stepped into his hospital room. Although now the reason for it was a completely different one.

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper.

“The commission is currently at a stand still, y/n, in total dysfunction.”

You swallowed thickly at the reminder. The commission, the one thing haunting the both of you whenever you were with each other, the organization holding Keigo in an iron clasp and ensuring his obedience with your help...since the Jaku Hospital Raid, since Dabi exposed Endeavor and Hawks, the number 1 and number 2 heroes of Japan, they’d been silent.

Scarily so.

“There is no one to give me orders anymore. And they won’t be able to control you anymore either. I won’t let them.”

You took a step back away from the man when you noticed how violently he smashed the screen, his shoulders tense and the recovering wings under his jacket bulking.

“Keigo...” you tried weakly.

“They won’t get to abuse your kindness anymore, have you chained to me..”

You didn’t have to see the look in his face to know what emotion was displayed on it, neither did you have to hear his voice.

Your heart dropped at the words, at the bitterness he so desperately wanted to put into them but couldn’t because of his injured throat.

“Keigo,” you repeated, this time with more insistence.

“I know why you did it. You wanted to return the favor. I saved you, you save me,” the electronic voice sounded awfully smug all out of the sudden.

Your stomach twisted, a horrible hot sensation built in your chest and you had to clench your jaw to stop yourself from saying the first thing to come to mind.

Which would have been an insult.

You clenched your fists, pinned them to your side as you stared at Keigo’s back, your face twisted into an ugly expression.

“No, fuck that,” you spit, “how dare you?”

His face came into view when he turned half to look at you over his shoulder, eyebrows lifted in surprise at your outbreak.

You snarled, unable to contain the hurt as tears started to build behind your eyes.

You’d always been an emotional crier and you really hated it.

“It’s not about a favor. Don’t say shit like that.”

Hawks cocked his head, eyeing you for a moment before he fully turned towards you. His posture was more relaxed than before but there was a question behind his eyes.

He lowered his glance only to type in the next words...

“What? You care about me so much, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, wiping at your eyes in frustration.

“You know i do, stupid bird brain,” you said, still angry.

How could he even believe for a second that you endured the commission’s whining and yammering out of guilt. How could he not know how much you cared for him after all the years you’d been by his side now, after all the times you’d been there for him.

Keigo grasped your wrist, stopping your frantic wiping to push them away and make place for his own hands, thumbs softly brushing the wetness from your cheeks.

He found your eyes, his own wrinkling at the edges.

“No chains left,” the phone chimed.

You watched in anticipation as Keigo reached behind him, hands moving to his neck, and removed loosened the clasp, pulling the muzzle off.

Now you could see the smile, too.

“To shackle us down,” he told you with a hoarse voice.

“Kei,” you scolded him, looking down at the muzzle between his fingers.

You took a step towards him, closing the distance between you. Then you reached forward to gently run your fingers down his throat. The fabric of the bandages was rough against your fingers.

Hopefully he hadn’t started talking too soon.

“Y/n.”

You looked up at him and caught his eyes that were staring down at you with a determination you’d seen directed at you so often before, but couldn’t deny they had still the same effect on you as if it were the first time. Making your head all dizzy, that was.

“When we’re driven into corners, we find liberation. That’s when a true person’s nature rears its head. That’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy,” he explained, gripping your wandering fingers into his hand, holding them close.

“At heart, he was desperate to be a help to others. I also want to be like that.”

You smiled up at him, squeezing his skin between yours.

“You’re already like that, Kei. You’ve always taken care of me, haven’t you?” you teased, hoping to ease the tension between the two of you a little.

“I think it was more the other way around, y/n.”

“I don’t-“

“Without you...i would have never known what it is like to have someone care for you. To have someone by your side no matter what. To understand...i think i would have never understood what it meant to love.”

You froze, staring up at Keigo with wide eyes. He tightened his grip around your hand, feeling that you wanted to draw back, instead keeping you close, thumb softly stroking the back of your hand as a way of calming you down.

“I think i love my mother, but that’s more out of obligation than anything,” he explained, searching your eyes but you couldn’t tell what he was looking for, “I never feel like i have to be anything than me when i’m with you. Nothing about being with you feels forced, or like it’s an obligation. It’s just...us.”

The room was spinning suddenly as you felt something cold wash over you. Your chest tightened, your heart daring jump out with every harsh beat against your ribcage.

He couldn’t be saying what he was saying...right?

He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that.

“Keigo...are you saying you love me? As in...in love with me?” you wanted to laugh, just a little, to lighten the mood, but it got stuck in your throat on its way out.

Unlike you the man in front of you looked calm, not at all deterred by your panicked state.

“Yeah, I do. I think I have for a while now, but i didn’t fully realize until recently.”

Still gripping your hand in his left one he raised the other to your face, gently cupping your cheek. You leaned into the touch instinctively.

A faint smile tugged at his lips at your action.

“It’s alright if you don’t return my feelings, but I think you do.”

You frowned in thought.

You’ve never thought of the man in front of you as anything else than just Keigo, the kind hearted boy whom you met in a dirty alleyway, the one that brought a little girl food and presents every now and then. The teenager who wrote letters once in a while to keep you up-to-date. The man who you spend your free days with, eating chicken and watching movies.

You meant it when you’d said you wouldn’t leave his side, not if you had any say in the matter. Now, you weren’t entirely sure what you meant with that.

Stay with him? Forever?

Maybe Keigo was right.

He was always able to read you better than anybody else, just like you were the one to know him best as well. That’s also why he noticed your inner turmoil just by looking at your screwed up face.

“May i kiss you?”

Your breath hitched, warmth spreading through your chest as your heart fluttered in your ribcage.

“Yeah.”

His lips were warm against yours, the touch soft and delicate. Like he was testing the waters, giving you the opportunity to pull away if you wanted to.

The feeling was foreign to you. You had kissed other people before, quick pecks, sloppy kisses, passionate making out...But this, this felt different to all of them.

He kissed you gently, carefully, holding you with a delicacy you weren’t used to.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees suddenly grew weak, hand reaching out to curl around the back of Keigo’s head, urging him even closer.

He pulled you in, accepting the closeness happily as he deepened the kiss. The taste of toothpaste invaded your mouth.

Your mind went blank, the only coherent thought you were able to grasp was that you were making out with Keigo...in his mom’s house.

How ironic.

Your lips tingled when the two of you parted again, the aftertaste of peppermint lingering on your tongue. The warmth in your chest had spread to your face and you weren’t sure if you were blushing out of embarrassment or glowing because wow...that was something.

Keigo was staring down at you with an undefinable look in his eyes, but he looked happy, content like this and it made something in your chest flutter softly.

You did that.

“I-“ you started but the wide grin spreading on your face against your will, growing despite your attempts to suppress it with a bite to your tongue, made your voice die with a squeak.

The man chuckled, the outline of his wings moving under the fabric of his jacket and the thought of Keigo ruffling his wings joyfully in response to your obvious happiness...you wanted to kiss him silly.

“I think i love you, too, Keigo.”

He might have been the happiest bird man in the whole entire world when you said those words and for a moment...just one small moment, you really felt like the two of you could be free.

Taglist: @crystal-lilac

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hnnyoongs · 3 years

Text

akai shuichi headcanons

shuichi wears a beanie all the time because he's self conscious about hir hairline .... and I mean who can blame him? id be too

shuichi saw gin when he was visiting Japan in the 10 years ago flashback and was like ooh long hair is cool AND it'll piss ka-san off flash forward 5 years later when shuichi infiltrates the BO and is like fUck cool long hair dude is a psycho

shuichi cut his hair off when he heard akemi was killed by gin he kinda went into the whole mental breakdown mode and was like fuck this shit because he started growing his hair out cuz of gin and also akemi really liked his long hair

shuichi used to be a band kid when he lived in England and wanted to pursue a career in music (much to the chagrin of Mary) but after tsutomu disappeared he was like fuck that and stopped playing until he entered the BO

shuichi has a really bad memory about things that dont have to do anything with his job kinda like BBC's Sherlock but not as bad

shuichi used to find dead bodies when he was a kid just like shinichi but it wasn't as often maybe like a dead body once a year or something

shuichi named himself dai because that's what Mary actually wanted to name him when she was giving birth she was screaming die die die and tsutomu wasn't there yet so she was like aight die sounds like the japanese name dai the only reason shuichi wasn't named that was that tsutomu burst in and was like FUCK NO

shuichi was picked on when training for the FBI since compared to 6 foot jock white men shuichi was a 5 foot 7 asian with long hair and dressed like a teenage girl who frequented Starbucks in the toxic environment of the FBI for anyone who doesnt fit the mold shuichi had it cut out for him

shuichi showed signs of multiple mental illnesses but they were all difficult to pin down so he was never diagnosed with anything since he refused to talk at the FBI mandated therapy sessions

shuichi's type is someone who is kind but could wield a gun

he used to dislike kids but being around them as okiya has made SOME kids special in his heart

before tsutomu's disspeareance he taught shuichi how to hunt with a shotgun

shuichi lived off of sports drinks and bars whenever he was single since he couldn't rely on take out due to it being unhealthy which wouldn't help his FBI styled life

shuichi taught akemi simple self defense techniques but refuses to teach her how to shoot a gun saying he didn't want her hands to get dirty

shuichi and shukichi blackmail each other for favors by using the "ill tell ka-san you did that one thing that you blamed dad for when we were kids if u dont help me out"

scotch once told him that bourbon's type was a white milf (in reference to Elena who was white and was a mother) so shuichi was scared as fuck when rei met Mary's adult self for the first time

shuichi hates being compared to his mother but the truth is they're the most similar and they both started mimicking tsutomu after his disappearance

the only thing shuichi knew how to cook before meeting yukiko was plain white rice as that was the only thing tsutomu was able to teach him

shuichi mimics an American accent while talking in America or talking in English unless he's talking to his family or he's mentally shook up and his British accent slips out

he thinks in British accented English as well (idc if the animanga shows him thinking in japanese it makes no sense that western raised people like Jodie and camel think in japanese) but he does use some japanese like ka-san and when he's trying to get deep into his okiya persona

he tries very hard to keep the polite speech patterns of okiya Subaru since as akai shuichi he's very .. rude

shuichi's sniper skills were so good the fbi was willing to overlook his disrespect of authority and his tendency to do everything by himself without consulting everyone

shuichi slips into a British accent around James if he's feeling really comfortable

he felt bad about using shiho since she was only a year older than masumi and she hadn't done anything wrong so he vowed to get her and akemi out of the BO

he had a plan to get akemi and shiho out by convincing the higher ups to grant them immunity if they testified but akemi's death derailed the entire thing

he hates to admit it but his family is the most important thing to him he may not contact them that often but he's going to such lengths to bring his father back because he cares for his family so much

shuichi didnt really know what he wanted to do with his life once he took down his father's pursuers but after akemi and scotch he decided that if he solved his father's disappearance first he'd hunt down the BO next tho once learning that Haneda Koji’s death had something to do with the BO he's back at the thing where he doesn't know what to do with his life without revenge

he promised shukichi that he'd be the one to solve shukichi's death if what happened to Haneda kohji also happens to shukichi

he isn't a fan of dates in amusement parks but if it makes his partner happy and smile he'll have fun

dating Jodie was a quiet thing most likely from an attachment maybe due to a bad case or a loss of a mutual friend depending on the agency they might have been legally allowed to date each other but it is usually looked down upon I dont think they went out together often probably spending time together at home ... doing stuff

he identifies as bisexual it was normal to him in childhood since both Mary and tsutomu talked about their past relationships to their children he never told anyone due to the fact it would affect his FBI status since it was illegal in America shukichi and Mary know he's bi but shuichi has no idea Mary knows

akemi and shuichi would take strolls in parks go shopping and go to cafes

he's very self conscious about his height and whenever he goes to Japan it makes him feel good about himself since he's relatively tall there

Mary was the one who drilled japanese into his head not tsutomu

the last time shuichi talked to Mary was when he called her up to tell her to take masumi and leave Japan for Britain after masumi cornered him and scotch him and Mary had a whole argument and after that they stopped talking to each other, not that they talked to each other much in the first place

shuichi learned jee kun do by watching training videos from vhs tapes/cds/YouTube depending on when you consider detco taking place I personally believe conan shrinks in 2018 meaning that tsutomu disappeared in 2001 and shuichi used a mixture of tapes and cds to learn

shuichi can read people really well but has a hard time manipulating people by being nice he can use people by being a jackass very well but trying to be a normal person is hard for him

Yukiko and yusaku remind shuichi of his parents before tsutomu disappeared but like more upbeat

shuichi dislikes full body hugs

akemi and shiho were both anime and romance drama fans so he knows random things about the shows and uses that info to connect with the DB and especially haibara

he considered himself British first and foremost but when asked about whether he considers himself white or asian he'll always go with asian

he started smoking soon after his father disappeared since his father used to smoke and he needed to cope but didn't wanna fall into drugs like cocaine

smoking is heavily looked down upon in America and is seen as unprofessional which helped shuichi go undercover a bunch due to him being a heavy smoker

akemi would make him stop smoking around her and shiho saying that second hand smoking was dangerous and that shuichi who was smoking constantly was going to get lung cancer but he would tell her that he just couldn't stop smoking he did stop smoking around shiho and akemi tho going outside to do it instead

as okiya it makes him go wild because he desperately needs to smoke to cope but okiya cant smoke it doesnt fit his image so he smokes a shit ton at night during his nightly drives

shuichi forced himself not to smoke during his time visiting Japan when he met masumi because he knew Mary would get even more upset with him

shuichi was terrible driving American styled cars and he got so upset that he perfected his drive-in techiuque over the years just to spite the instructor that said he was barely passing

he likes to go on late night drives and speed on the high way because he's a thrill seeking idiot

he has no social media but he created on as okiya Subaru to keep an eye on haibara's higo stan account

he takes offense to the idea that he's stalking haibara he's just p r o t e c t i n g her

he wants shiho to be happy more than anything so he's an avid coai shipper and is exhausted in Conan's obliviousness

shuichi didnt tell shukichi he wasn't actually dead shukichi just walked up to okiya Subaru one day and was like shuuichi-ni-san right? shuichi has long stopped questioning shukichi's weird ways of knowing shit he shouldn't know

shuichi is a sherlockian but he's not like shinichi or hakuba in that he does not hate BBC's Sherlock and actually enjoys it a bit

one upside to shuichi living in America is that he gets to hoard guns because he's obsessed with them he thinks they're really cool it's like conan with Sherlock he starts yapping his mouth of about them

bourbon once dangled a gun on in front of a sleeping shuichi cuz he didnt believe scotch when he said that rye was obsessed with guns and started saying incorrect shit about the type of gun he was holding and shuichi just shot up and started berating him

shuichi hates that chianti is a killer because she's the only person who's as much as a gun fanatic as he is

he tends to steal Jodie's car a lot

he likes fucking with peoples heads it's very fun to him to watch them get all worked up

shuichi hasn't mourned his father yet because he doesnt believe his father’s dead

deep down he blames his father for his mother going slightly bonkers

he didnt want masumi to be a detective at first but now hes proud of her

he drinks a lot as okiya Subaru since he cant smoke as much

he's willing to go to hell if it means he can rip gin from limp to limp

he really hates gin yall I dont think I can convey how much he hates gin

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medical-gal · 3 years

Text

Death by a thousand cuts

I have been thinking about writing this for months now. Even before I decided to quit the residency at my previous job.

COVID has been kicking our ass, true, but that was (is) true for most healthcare providers all around the world.

No, my struggle started a bit before that actually.

First some background, I have been working at one of the biggest most famous ID clinics in central Europe. The clinic is in a different country than I am originally from so there was a bit of cultural accommodating at the begging. But we were a big group of ID interns/residents/fellows and specialists.

I don't actually remember that much from my first year working there. And I couldn't figure out why, but then I read in some study that when u experience a high dose of stress and/or sleep deprivation for a long time, your brain kinda stopps being able to transcribe short term memory into a long term.

I was working 100hours/week, sometimes less, sometimes more. After a year and a half, when the last half I worked in the ID ER for five months, I always stayed after working 24 hours, sometimes over 36hours, and I would see and treat 70ish patients. Nobody from the older docs would help me out, nobody from other interns either bc usually they would have their own kind of hell to take care of.

The fact that basically, inexperienced doctors are taking care of patients never really phased my ex-boss. Her mantra was that if there was a problem that you cannot resolve, you can call her and she would advise you. Which most of the time was true, I must say that.

But we all have been young docs, barely out of our medical school garments, and sometimes as it happened, we could not recognize there IS a problem that maybe needs a more experienced opinion.

I am often confronted with this idea or more like a culture, of pretending that once you are an MD you don't need help and asking for it is a kind of weakness and that then you are forever on the list of WEAKLINGS.

And let me say this only once.

That's absolute bullshit.

Anyway, the first time I decided to quit I worked there for about a year and a half, I went for a long-expected holiday, I took three weeks off, had interviews and talked with my bf about my options.

Second thing...my man, bless his beard, would support me no matter what. He is almost 10 years older than me, so he has more work experience and I find it reassuring to discuss stuff like this with him bc I know he will not sugarcoat it. He said that I should dig my heels in and last at least one more year till the end of my "internship". As a "resident" who worked at this specific department, I wouldn't have a problem finding another job. We r basically the equivalent of a french legion of medical professionals (when u work in this specific department and everyone knows it, I will come back to that later).

So I took his advice. Thankfully as a part of our training, one of those parts is a year-long internship at the internal medicine department, which I did shortly after we had that conversation and guys, that was a revelation of how medicine and just...work and life can be experienced. There were enough docs for a floor, an attending who had the time to manage and advise us. I´ve grown that year as a doc so much. Other internships were mandatory so I could have become (equivalent of) a resident, and it was a general surgery, anesthesiology, radiology, microbiology etc. But I did them all and became a resident.

The moment I came back to our clinic, my boss would put me in our outpatient department. Which I have never worked on before. The head of the department has quit a few months before, and I had no idea what to do there, bc it's a very different type work. The only thing my boss told me when I spoke of my concerns were "you will learn".

Thankfully the previous head of the department was a good friend of mine and she would always answer my questions and requests. Suddenly I no longer had to deal with the hectic life of an ID floor or ER, no sepsis, meningitis, etc.

Most of my patients were the chronic type...Lyme, chlamydia, mycoplasma... let's say it literally drained the life out of me. But I managed. Also, I started to work for their outpatient office which takes care of patients with chronic hepatatis. That I enjoyed more.

I also started to dip my toes in vaccinology, either planned like for travel but I started to be more interested in preventive care in the immunocompromised and my own phantasmagoria was to make a palliative care team in our hospital. Bc, we had none. And then a wonderful thing happened, other docs, older experienced, great at their work, started to refer their patients to me specifically.

There were more examples of the utter a complete FUCK U(s) which were kindly provided either by the system or by the head of the department or the hospital.

Then covid hit and the shit hit the interstellar space.

I still can't make myself remember the first few months bc it actually causes me to go into a rage fit, and honestly, I am done with that kind of negativity.

I hold out for a year. Year of such shitty treatment from the chief and our hospital head. No thank you- s or you are doing a good job or we r all on the same ship.

No.

People will say that I quit bc of the money. And that's not true, tho it did irk me a bit. All the other ID specialists working at different hospitals would get covid bonuses every month. We got jack shit. Again, the best biggest most know ID clinic. We were the first and oftern the ONLY ones who would test for/diagnose/hospitalize/treat a patient who had covid FOR MONTHS in the beginning.

I mean, the medical community is small, the ID community even smaller so yes, we were able to compare and contrast the work at different ID departments in other hospitals bc our friends worked there. And all of them would go speechless when they would hear from us what we were living thru.

At one point at the beginning of the pandemic, ALL the ambulances would go thru our ER department and we were supposed to decide where the patient should go.

AN EXAMPLE

Ambulance with a woman who has known colon cancer, had a fever, stomach as a rock and is projectile vomiting. I was supposed to decide where she should go and the surgeon would be super pissed when I said that I don't think she has COVID but without PCR I can't be sure but I think there is a bigger pressing issue. I remember him saying:

"well if anyone else gets infected at our department and dies, it's on you."

fun.

There were other examples of seriously stressful episodes which I and my coworkers lived thru, for which we were not trained for, advised, or properly supervised. At a certain point, I started to take anxiolytics before and during my all-nighters bc I didn't know what I would do with all that stress which was so callously shat on me and my coworkers.

For a few months, I stopped working nights, only thru the mercy of my coworkers who saw how exhausted I was and would take my shifts.

Anyway, after only two months I had to start working nights bc I needed the money. The basic pay for docs was just not enough without the extra from night shifts. Talk about exploiting.

The moment however when I decided to QUIT, when I was DONE, when I actually heard my heart break, was the moment at the end of the previous year. They decided to start vaccinating in our tiny small vaccination centre. Let's say a "shit storm" brewing is the light version of events that ensued.

But basically, as I was trying to discuss with my boss that we are all exhausted, that this wave is not slowing down and that throwing more work at us, the docs and nurses and other staff, who are overworked, is not a good idea,

What she basically said to me is that who says things like that is lazy and that if she can handle it everyone must be also.

The thing is..most of us were at the bring. Some would handle it with casual and calous sex, drugs (legal or not), a bottle of wine before sleep. A coworker ended up with antipsychotics.

But u know,

we were all lazy apperently.

I realized there is no way out of this other than quitting. I could not continue being so tired and sad all the time. I took two weeks off, really thought about it. Had diarrhoea and nausea for a week as I realized I will have to quit :D

On a Monday I came back, handed in my notice. Basically what she told me and how she reacted made me realized how right the decision was.

I had to stay there for another three months bc that's the law, but my mood changed significantly.

I got another job in a smaller ID department, working with amazingly kind people, but that's another story.

But that was the only interview I actually looked for and did. I, however, did get several job offers from different types of medicine. From heads of different departments in my old hospital to smaller general medicine chain offices who are looking for ID specialists, to insurance companies.

Like I said, french legion.

Or Runway and your boss is Miranda Pristley. Once u survive that, u survive anything.

But at my old work they would keep hitting you with wave after wave of passive agressive comments about how if u quit, u wont be able to find anything as"prestigious" as this.

There were many other exmaples of a shitty and questionable situations which were treated as "normal" but there is not point on getting on that rage train.

Contrary as it might seem, I am greatful I got to live thru this, good and bad, bc now I know what I am and am not willing to sacrifice for a job. No matter how much I might love it.

#sorry this is long #but goddammit it needed to be said #suzy's adventures in id

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