#> like he really has. hole in face. maybe he gets some kind of combo form? hmm thunkin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyon-writings · 3 years

Note

OK BUT SERIOUSLY SINCE REQUESTS R OPEN MAY I GRACIOUSLY REQUEST AN ETHAN WINTERS (RE8) X DAUGHTER READER (PLATONIC) WHOS A TEEN AND ACCOMPANIES HIM ON THE JOURNEY AND SHES REALLY PROTECTIVE OVER HER AND SHE DISAPPEARS IN THE DIMITRESCU CASTLE ONLY TO BE FOUND BY ETHAN LOCKED IN A OR SUM SHIT WAITING FOR ETHAN THANK YOU TAKE CARE OF URSELF IS THIS GOOD ENOUGH HSHAHAHAH

so idk if this was a request for hcs or a fic so i kind of just did a combo of the two

warnings/notes: canon typical violence, some mentioned re7 + village spoilers, gn!reader

It starts off how stories like these always do, a man has no need to go into a terrifying yet quiet town or farmhouse, but he does anyway, because he has a big heart to make up for the lack of rational sense. He knew something was wrong about Mia’s final video call, that her message was showing anything but the fact that she was safe. So he loaded up his car and got to driving.

And now who would’ve thought that it domino’d into Ethan Winters, currently hoisting up his teenaged child into a farm house’s window to unlock it from the inside so that a group of bloodthirsty lycans would not tear them apart, being here?

He wishes he could tell what you were thinking. When he had found you back at the Baker’s home, you were quiet, skittish, and scared. But unharmed for the most part, molded and the infected family alike seemed to avoid you. Well not Lucas, but he was the textbook example of homicidal, so Ethan supposed he didn’t count. Sure with the time passing, you had gotten comfortable, and the therapy Chris and his group had provided helped too. But you were still quiet for the most part.

Until something changed. Rather spending time with Mia, you kept to yourself in your room. Otherwise you kept around Ethan himself or baby Rose if the parents needed you to look after her while they worked during the day, or at least when Mia had strangely not wanted to keep Rose with herself at all times. At meal times you had made yourself scarce too, quickly finishing what you had on your plate and cleaning your dish, returning to your room. Mia’s behavior was strange and he had ticked it off as being concerned but wanting to give you your space.

“You know how teenagers are,” She would say with a simple shrug. “I’m sure whatever this phase is will end soon.”

And then it didn’t.

Because now you were being dragged out of your room by men in all sorts of gear with weapons pointed at you, Rose’s cries echoing throughout the dark house while you fruitlessly struggled against them. You hear Ethan call out for you, righteous anger and worry in his voice. You try and reach for him, but only feel a sharp pain at the back of your neck. Your vision goes dark and so does your consciousness follows soon after.

And that’s how you both end up here. The truck meant to transport you somewhere crashes. You ignore the bad feeling as you step out, snow crunching beneath your shoes. At least they let you put on decent shoes, your fuzzy slippers surely would’ve been soaked by the snow.

Ethan calls your name and you look up, he begins to take off the large jacket from the bodies, the bodies, left of the soldiers meant to take you to wherever Chris had wanted you to go. And your shivering form doesn’t help, a small and thin sweater only doing so much for you. It should’ve felt wrong to disrespect the dead like that but your mother- guardian was dead, and your baby sister was missing.

The village was an experience from hell, memories of the Baker House were quick to rear its ugly head. You try and cover your ears, eyes shut tight as you crouch in an attempt to make yourself smaller. From those, creatures almost mauling you and Ethan losing his fingers, to Luisa and those villagers, they did not deserve the gruesome end they got.

Ethan kneels beside you, hands cupping your head as he brings you close into an embrace, quiet assurances that you both will be leaving soon, finding Rose and going home. “I’ll protect you kiddo,” He swears, and you believe it. Your head is tucked under his chin, and Ethan remembers that you’re still a child too, his words to protect you weren’t just that, as he swears to himself. He would tear those things apart for both of his children, to make sure they could go home and live in peace. His heart clenches however, when his mind trails to Mia and how she would not be with them.

And then you reach a wine cellar of all places. Before you meet a mysterious man that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. And then a metal pipe goes through his leg, and the pair of you are encased in metal scrap, being dragged to who knows where. Finding yourselves in a cold chapel, in front

Although the worried look you send his way makes Ethan think maybe it was better off to be back in the wine cellar. As the man- Heisenberg- forces him to run while you’re dragged back. You try to run at least, but you don’t make it far. The Very Tall and Dangerous Looking Lady peers down at you from underneath the brim of her hat. But rather than malice, it’s... warmth?

And once more your poor head is a victim of a sharp hit, losing consciousness again. The last bit you see is your father-figure all but being pushed down a hole as he flees the lycans that surrounded him, continuing to look back at you in worry. You shake your head, hoping it conveyed that you wanted him to go.

But now you can’t say in particular that you’re having a bad time, since you’re inside, the fire from the castle’s several hearths keeping the place warm. The Lady of the house introduces you to her daughters. You can’t help but shrink behind her when they all seemingly surround you both.

Lady Dimitrescu only laughs behind a gloved hand. And allows you all to mingle. If you could call it that by being locked away in a spare room. You couldn’t even stop them, they had the ability to lose a physical form by turning into flies. You wished you had some kind of power like that. You don’t hear much from any of them after that. Occasionally you hear the tall woman’s steps around the corridor, but that’s it.

You chew your lip nervously, a bad habit that you thought you had gotten rid of since Louisiana. You can only stare out the window hopelessly, being on a tall floor, the fall would’ve grievously injured you or worse. The smooth brick was not good for climbing. You tried at least attempting to break the door down, but whatever it had been made off was practically impossible to break. (Your poor shoulder still aches from trying to ram it down). Gun shots echoing through the mansion don’t sooth your nerves either, maybe Redfield was here too, either to finish the job he started with-

The click of the lock makes you jump, quickly grabbing a glass vase, hiding behind the door. Your eyes close as you look down, you tremble. Before throwing it all to the wind and just tossing the large vase in an attempt to make a run for the unlocked door. Only to be stopped by a face you thought you’d never see again.

“Dad?” Your voice is raspy, from the lack of use, but you can’t manage say anything else as you’re brought into a tight hug, almost falling to the ground from the sheer relief you had felt seeing him alive. He quickly checks you over, chin in his hand as he inspects you for any obvious injury, quickly hugging you once more.

“It’s okay, I’m here now,” You notice his hands, bandages bloodier from before. “Let’s find get out of here,” He says with finality and you nod. You carefully take his hand, the one that actually did have all five fingers, giving it a squeeze. Now it was time to escape and find your little sister.

#resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #re x reader #re imagines #resident evil village imagines #resident evil village x reader #ethan winters & reader #mine

277 notes · View notes

hornime · 3 years

Note

hello hello!! happy 500 :D i’m a new follower and i’d like to request a pit stop (i’m pretty sure that’s the alphabet thing) with mr kenma pls and thank u <3

part of my 500 event! [CLOSED]

NSFW ALPHABET | KENMA KOZUME X GN!READER

warnings: 18+, timeskip!kenma, gn!reader, mentions of: filming, exhibitionism, choking, bondage, voyeurism, edging, roleplay

a/n: thank you for requesting!!!! this was super fun to write and i hope u enjoy <3

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

kenma’s competitive with himself, and that’s something that definitely carries into the bedroom. he’s analytical, so he’ll ask you questions that you really cannot take seriously after getting your brains fucked out like how many times did you cum? and on a scale from one to ten how good did that feel? although its not the traditional sort of aftercare, you know that he’s only doing it so he can make the experience better for the next time, and so far he hasn’t failed in doing so.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

himself: his fingers. he’s gotta use them for a lot of things: clicking the mouse while he’s gaming, signing business contracts, making you cream around them, sticking them down your throat, you know, day-to-day things. he looks at his hands with pride with the way they’re able to manipulate anything—especially you.

partner: your wrists. he loves the duality; when he’s holding your forearms above your head and thrusting into you mercilessly, he gets a sort of satisfaction in how limp your wrists go, your clenched fists drooping helplessly in his grasp. but he has reverence for their strength; when you’re choking him, fingers digging into his pulse points, he can’t help but focus on the way your wrist pushes down on his collarbone, the post-sex aches there simply reminders of how he fell to putty in your hands.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

would rather cum on you than inside. let’s face it, he was probably a hentai addict at some point and got hooked on the lewd way they showed backshots, facials, and the like. also a sucker for cumming in your mouth when you give him a blowjob and making you stick your tongue out before swallowing. put on a little show of licking your fingers or your lips and he’ll instantly get hard again.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

wants to fuck you while streaming. even after graduating high school, he’s not the tallest nor the strongest, and he’s constantly getting comments like how did he bag someone as hot as ‘em? or they’re probably just in it for the money on videos that he films with you. he’s not an idiot, he knows that even if he was the world’s hottest person there’d still be hate comments because that’s just how the internet works, but he really really wants to shut them all up by pausing his game and folding your body across his desk. there’s no way in hell he’d follow through with that though, because his career—and probably both of your lives—would be ruined, but he’s not opposed to making some faceless porn videos if you’re down for that kind of thing.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

kenma kept to himself for most of his life, so while he didn’t really have hands-on experience, he did get a lot of knowledge from hentai and mangas and such (which really is a double-edged sword because no, not everyone’s nipples are that sensitive, but its fine). so he kinda had a lot of unrealistic expectations and not a lot of sexual encounters to disprove them. but when he blew up on twitch and youtube? phew this guy had people THROWING themselves at him. and so he did indulge a bit, ‘gained some xp’ and ‘leveled up’ as he’d say, before stumbling upon you.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

when you ride him and he’s sitting up so your chests are pressed together. kenma’s the type of person to see kissing as super intimate (yes, even more intimate than literally being inside you) so he loves this position because he can make out with you. he lives for those heated makeout sessions when you’re both moaning into each other’s mouths and nipping at each other’s lips. also likes the position where either you’re sitting with your back to his chest or vice versa and getting each other off.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i feel like he’d be pretty serious at first, in the early stages of your relationship, but as you got more comfortable, his dorkiness would shine through. like, this guy plays video games for a living, alright? he’s bound to make a few dumb references while you are ‘doing the dirty’, maybe let loose his killer wario impression when things get steamy.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i feel like kenma definitely dyed his pubes blonde as part of a prank at some point so that it matched his hair LMAO. and hygiene-wise, i mean, he still is a musty gamer boy except now he’s getting paid for it. so he probably didn’t take care of it at all before really settling down with a long-term partner (cough, you). now he keeps it trimmed (and he might dye it again for kicks).

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i feel like it varies from situation to situation. depending on the mood and whatnot, he might really cling to the romance stuff and kiss you on the neck or forehead or murmur i love you, that kind of thing. other times, it might just be all about physical pleasure. it all chalks up to what kind of sex you guys are having, really.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

likes to be watched when masturbating. this pretty much goes hand-in-hand with his fantasy of railing you while streaming, but he’s a fan of either having you sit in front of him and boss him around while he’s jerking off or recording himself. also he might have posted a couple of the videos he films for you to a brand new account on twitter, accidentally blew up, and caused the hashtag #isthiskodzuken to trend for a couple weeks... oops.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

filming/voyeurism: kenma spends all his time in front of cameras, and that part of his life is just part of his sexual preferences now. would almost always be down to film a sex tape. when you guys are separated because of work or whatever, your messages are just lewd pictures and snippets back and forth. its really fucking with your data plan.

roleplay: he has an active imagination—need i say more? he’s constantly coming up with scenarios in his head and he’s definitely bought you a sexy cosplay costume on multiple occasions. i can’t see him into anything too intense like ddlg but i’m sure there’s some more milder stuff sprinkled within his sex life.

edging + bondage combo: when he’s subbing, kenma’s definitely the type who wants to relinquish all control. he just wants you to do whatever you want to him and tease him until he’s crying and begging to cum. will squirm a lot, which will eventually prompt you to tie his hands behind his back, which he realizes he likes a lot more than he thought he would.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

his office (feeds into his boss/employee fantasy) and in the bedroom, but just not on the bed (on his desk, at his gaming chair). the bed is for the more lovey-dovey sex.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

this is oddly specific, but i feel like he’s the kind of guy that’ll get really hard if you massage his hair, lull him into a false sense of security, and then wrap your hand around his neck. the moment you squeeze, his face’ll go red and the blood goes rushing to his dick.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

threesomes or sex with other people watching. although he might be an exhibitionist, he’s pretty hesitant when it comes to actually being that vulnerable for another person. there’s a fine line between the thrill of possibly doing it with other people and then the reality of actually doing it with other people and its a line that he most likely will not cross. after all, even though he’s more extroverted than he used to be, sex is still something you still had to coax him out of his shell for.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving (50%): he likes the ego boost that comes with making you cum with just his mouth and, since he keeps note of the kinds of things that really get you over the edge, he’s constantly getting better at it. likes fingering even more, though, so he’ll almost always have his fingers in your hole while he does it.

receiving (50%): loves getting blowjobs while he’s gaming and his headset mic is on (exhibitionist, cough cough). his favorite time to get oral is when you’ve got him tied to a chair and are taking your own sweet time, daring him to cum at the frustratingly slow pace you’re going.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

regardless of the scene, he goes relatively slow. likes savoring the moment and likes seeing your reactions to each of his individual movements even more so he wouldn’t like rushing things.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

honestly, not a fan of them. he gets really flustered after sex, like red-face-and-heavy-breathing-and-messy-hair kind of flustered, so he sucks at composing himself. the last thing he wants is for his stakeholders to realize he got the soul sucked out of him from the burning blush on his cheeks, therefore he like sex when he can take his time with it.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

will be down to experiment if you’re clear about it. open communication is a big one for taking steps in sex because he’s not the best at reading people. so as long as you explain what exactly you want to do, sure, he’ll try it.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

not more than a couple rounds, but they will be excruciatingly long. he’ll make you cum multiple times before he takes care of himself just because he loves seeing your expression when you finish. but once he cums, there’s not much going to happen after that. baby burns out fast.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he loves ‘em and uses them at any given opportunity. he’s still a bit lazy, but does it really matter when he can just buy something to make you both feel good with minimal effort? after all, he has the money. kenma always has the latest ‘gadgets’; in fact, there’s an entire box of toys in his closet. his favorite would have to be the app-controlled vibrator—he loves using it on you as much as he loves you using it on him.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

as much as he likes making you cum, he likes seeing your face and hearing your noises more. so yes, he’s a teaser. he just loves how receptive you get when you’re begging him to touch you more, to fuck you faster, that he can’t help but drag things out longer than necessary. it’s really your fault that he does it, at least, that’s what he tells you.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

loud, loud, LOUD. kenma whimpers and his moans usually get higher-pitched the closer he gets to his orgasm. when he’s busy focusing with you, though, all that’s pouring out of his mouth is absolute filth, talking about how sexy you look and how good you’re taking him. might degrade you here and there when he sees how easy it is for you to finish with him just using his fingers—he can’t help it.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he has the money and the inability to take life too seriously, so yeah, he’s ordered a silicone mold of your genitalia, whether its your pussy or your cock. its embarrassingly useful when he goes on business trips and its the one thing he never forgets to pack (he forgot his passport once but you bet he had his custom sex toy tucked safely in his luggage like the crazy bastard he is). got you a dildo in the shape of his dick for your birthday so he wouldn’t feel as weird about it.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

six and a half inches, slight curve to the left, and for lack of a better word, pretty. it sits prettily in your palm, has a pretty pink shade on the tip, and overall always leaves you satisfied. for what he can’t do with his cock, he has plenty of toys to compensate anyway.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he was pretty conservative about it at first, but once you gave him a taste of his desires and some of your own, he was hooked. what started as taking out his frustrations after a particular bad game became compounded with rewards after a particularly good game, and now he thinks of sex as a good luck charm before he even turns on his pc. so yeah, you got a pretty needy guy on your hands.

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s out almost immediately. he puts a lot of effort into fucking you well, and i mean, he doesn’t have the best stamina despite years of volleyball. basically the pleasure goes straight into his brain, electrifies his nerves for a solid couple hours, and then the moment he cums it all just shuts down. if you make him drink some monster you’ll probably be able to fix the circuit board and get him started up again.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu! smut #hq smut #kenma smut #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma #inky.500 #inky.responds #kinky.inky

304 notes · View notes

hopeless-ro-simptic · 4 years

Text

Familiar Cerulean Eyes Part 2

Not sure if that name is going to stick but it’s what I’ve got for now. Also thank you so much? The reactions I got for part one literally made me want to cry. I’ve never posted my writings because I didn’t think that I would get any kind of response. When we hit 7 notes in the first hour I was beyond ecstatic and I thought that that would be it. But 150 notes later and I couldn’t wait to post part 2. Let me know what y’all think of this. I don’t know if I will get a part 3 out as quickly but I do plan to work on it.

Click here for full list of other parts. Part 3

Slow burn, no smut in this part but maybe a spicy moment.

Taglist: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac

Word Count: Just over 3 k

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

Dabi had left you alone for long enough to go get food that you had already scoured his entire room, searching for any way to escape. You had learned that even though the window looked like it could open at some point, it had been sealed shut somehow and you didn’t have the strength to open it. Other than the window, there were two doors in the room. One leading to a small bathroom complete with a tub/shower combo, the other being the door that lead out of the room but was unfortunately locked when Dabi left.

As for the room itself, all it held was a queen sized bed, well really it was a mattress on top of a box spring, with holes in the blankets and sheets that looked like burn marks and a singular pillow that looked like he had owned it for years it was so flat. A dresser that was scarce in the amount of clothing it had in it, seemingly like majority of it was dirty in the corner on the floor next to but not in the torn up laundry hamper, almost all of it black or a shade resembling. The black chair that sat in the opposite corner of the bed that again looked like it had seen better days. Oh and a cigarette tray that was filled to the brim and a fan that was perched on top of his dresser pointing towards the bed. That was about it. The walls were bare other than scorch marks and burns here and there, the blinds were dusty, and the wooden floor was cold and scratched like it had been well worn for several years, burn marks from stray cigarettes being put out.

The Omega in you hated it, they wanted to start cleaning and organizing to find warm cozy things to build a comfort nest out of. The rational part of you saw it as what it was, a hideout for a villain. Not a place to get comfy in. Still you couldn’t sit here and wait. It was driving you nuts.

You had just finished picking up the discarded cigarettes on the floor into a nice neat pile on his dresser and was moving towards putting his dirty laundry into the hamper when Dabi returned. Cautiously opening the door to see what you were doing, he slipped in before shutting it and locking it behind him, takeout food in his hands.

“Look at you, being a perfect little housewife.” The smirk that was ever present on his face was bigger than normal and you immediately dropped the t-shirt that you had been staring at, turning and looking at him, your cheeks heating up at being caught.

He glanced at the bloodied shirt on the floor that was covered in soot and burn marks like the rest of his clothes and he shrugged, placing the food down on the counter before turning to you.

“Part of the job babe.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and pulling in on your self again. You couldn’t help the fact that your omega blushed at the nickname. You had never been spoken to like that. Ever. Even given the context you couldn’t help but squirm.

The smell of food made you take a step towards him though. You were starving and looking at what he had brought had your mouth watering. He had two different ramen bowls and a rice bowl to go with it. It looked like heaven. Not to mention a whole bag of other snacks to eat as well. You grabbed a water bottle from the bag, forgetting just how thirsty you were as you quickly drank almost half of the bottle in one swoop, hungrily looking between all the food.

“Take your pick princess, I’ll eat whatever you don’t want.” He gave you space to choose through everything, electing to drop back into his chair on the other side of the room, picking up the shirt you had dropped and tossing it into the hamper like he had just learned a new trick.

You quickly choose your preferred out of the options of ramen, leaving the snack bag alone for later. You might need it. Choosing to sit on the floor, against the bed rather than the bed itself so that you had a sturdy surface to put your food, you internally thanked yourself for picking up all the cigarettes.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you refused to look up as you quietly ate the food. It was a couple minutes before he got up and grabbed his own food, choosing instead to sit on the floor next to you than to return to his chair. His legs spread out in front of him, showing you just how long they were, how much bigger than you he was. Your mouth was watering from not just the food anymore, his scent enveloping you from being this close. You briefly thought that he was probably pumping it out more just to get a reaction from you, but you refused to show it. You weren’t going to play this alpha’s game. You just needed to keep a level head until you could escape. You were just going to ignore him, just enough to stay on his good side, but not to attract further attention from him. You could do that, you had been playing a similar game for years.

“So are you going to tell me your name..? Unless you just want me to keep calling you princess?” You accidentally dropped a rice ball into your ramen, the hot broth splashing onto your hand causing you to flinch at the burn.

Dabi let out a soft hum, setting down his bowl and taking yours away before you could even protest. He took your hand into his own, wiping off the broth gently with a clean napkin that he had gotten from the takeout bag and examining the burn. You couldn’t help but watch him, entranced but how gentle he was being. It was hard to connect the fact that this man, this alpha, was a known murderer. He killed people. He was a known League of Villains member, and yet here you were, letting him kiss your hand like he was a crowned prince in a fairy tale waiting to whisk you away to a better life, his cerulean eyes latched onto your own, a teasing expression.

Your face was redder than it has ever been in your life, yanking your hand away from his grasp, clutching it against your chest like he burned you. What were you thinking? Why was he getting under you skin so easily? Sure, you didn’t have a lot of experience with alphas other than the Todoroki’s, and those that visited the house, but none of them acted like this! You scooted away from the alpha, trying to block the scent of him from your brain, trying to calm down. You weren’t sure why you were so flustered but you needed to breathe to get out of this situation and fast.

“C-can I take a shower?” You weren’t sure why you even asked. Maybe you were scared he wouldn’t let you or that he would try to follow you into the bathroom. But neither fear was necessary as he nodded his head towards the bathroom door, his eyes watching your every movement like a wild cat, a deep chuckle reverberating through the air.

“Do you want me to join you?”

“No thanks!” You jumped up and threw yourself into the bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning against it, trying to calm yourself. You turned around, locking the bathroom door, hearing the alpha shuffle on the other side of it. He didn’t try the door knob though and you relaxed slightly, turning towards the rest of the bathroom you turned on the shower faucet, hesitating only a minute before stripping out of your soot covered clothes that you are noticing were definitely ruined.

You stepped into the shower, pulling closed the curtain just enough to not get water on the floor but enough that you could see the door still just in case. The only soap in the shower was a cheap alpha brand. You didn’t care at this point though. You just needed to be clean after everything that has happened. Maybe you could pretend it was Shoto or some other alpha that you were going to smell like. Maybe.. just maybe you could pretend it was Touya’s scent.

You huffed at your own stupidity. Why do you always think of him when you’re upset? He can’t just magically save you. He isn’t coming back. You don’t come back from that. You felt yourself slip down into a seated position, pulling your knees to your chest, your eyes going fuzzy as you tried to blink through the tears that suddenly threatened to spill out.

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

“Y/N! Touya! Get back here!” You giggled as you heard Fuyumi’s voice ring out behind you, Touya’s bandaged fingers wrapped around your wrist pulling you behind him as he ran, his laughter spilling out. It was a Saturday, Endevor had patrol and instead of working on his training, Touya had decided to steal you away from his younger sister’s grasp.

The two of you had ran all the way through the garden in the back of the house, and hid behind a cluster of cherry blossom trees that were in full bloom. At the time you think you must have been 11 or so, him just a little bit older. He had pulled you down beside him onto the grass and covered your mouth with his hand to hid your giggles, holding a finger up to signal you to be quiet. You could hear Fuyumi run by, calling out your names searching for you both. Grumbling how it wasn’t fair that he took you while you were both playing princesses.

He finally let go of your face, a smile crossing his own as he looked at you’re winded, excited expression. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned over and kissed your cheek, just to see you blush.

“Touya!” You covered your face with your hands, feeling your cheeks glow red.

“What? Aren’t princes supposed to kiss the princess? Isn’t that the whole point? To bond with a pretty princess?”

“You think I’m pretty?” You couldn’t help but look up into his eyes, they were the prettiest things you had ever seen. The color of turquoise, perfect gem stones.

“I think you’re the prettiest.”

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

“Princess? Are you okay?” You heard a soft knock on the bathroom, barely audible over the sound of the water streaming down onto your body. You realized your scent had gone sour, the sadness creeping in without your permission. You needed to keep a lid on things. You turned off the water, and grabbed what seemed to be a clean towel, wrapping yourself in it, grabbing your dirty and tattered clothes to put them on.

“I put clean clothes outside the door if you want them.” Pausing, you frowned. Clean clothes would be nice. You hated being dirty. You took a deep breath, unlocking the door and waiting a second before opening it just enough to quickly grab the clothes before shutting it again, looking at what was offered.

A pair of grey sweats and a black hoodie, very similar to what he was wearing. Cautiously you took a whiff of the clothes, relaxing when you mostly smelled the laundry detergent over his scent. You didn’t want to be scented by him more than necessary. Just in case Shoto tracked you down. You wanted him to be able to recognize you. Not that this scent proof room would allow it.

You already smelled like the alpha’s soap though, quipped your Omega, and it smelled good.

You slipped the clothes on, ignoring your omega, all of it being way too baggy on you, especially the sweatpants, which you rolled up at the bottom so not to trip. The tie to tighten them around your waist was missing and you were pretty sure you were going to have to hold them up. Frowning at your clothes on the floor, even your bra and panties had been ruined. You didn’t know what to do with them, so you scooped them up in your arms and shuffled out of the bathroom, hugging them lightly.

You heard a low whistle and saw Dabi laying with his back on the bed, messing with a phone he held above him that you assumed was a burner, the mess from your meal was cleaned up and nowhere to be found, save for the bag of snacks that you had left. One of his legs bent and with his foot on the floor, the other up on the mattress. His eyes had abandoned the screen in front of him and were trained on your swallowed form in his clothes. He couldn’t help but think how good you looked wearing his stuff, and after taking a whiff of the air he appreciated the fact that you smelled somewhat like him now, and not like that Todoroki brat. He made a mental note that you didn’t need your own clothes. You could just wear his all the time. Other than the fact that you looked uncomfortable holding up the sweat pants with one hand.

You fumbled with the bundle of clothes in your arms looking around the room for a place to settle. You wanted to curl up in bed and sleep until this was all over. But he was in the bed..

“Just toss your clothes in with mine, I’ll take care of them later.”

“No.” You were tired, you no longer wanted to deal with this alpha. You just wanted a nap, and a nest made out of your own things.

His eye brows lifted a look of intrigue settling across his expression. He sat up, eyes watching you. “No?”

You squirmed under his gaze, considering retreating to the bathroom where you could at least lock the door and be alone, but the bathroom was so small that if you wanted to lay down you would have to be in the bathtub. Which was already wet. You stood there awkwardly trying to decide which of the two you wanted to deal with more, a flirty psychotic killer, or a wet bathtub nest.

“Come here” Apparently the flirty psychotic killer won that one as before you even noticed it you were standing in front of him, him still sitting on the bed, both his feet on the ground now, legs spread to accommodate you, surrounded in his scent. Something about him had your omega waging her tail practically begging you to do things you would never even consider.

He reached his hand up like he was going to grab your face causing you to flinch, but instead his hand gripped one side of the pull tie for the hoodie, wrapping it around his wrist before yanking it harshly, pulling you forward against him slightly and pulling the tie all the way out of the hood.

You reached up and pressed your hands onto his shoulders, dropping your bundle of clothes to the floor, to brace yourself, his eyes lighting up with amusement at your reaction. You wanted to pull away, but your omega refused. You were a deer trapped in headlights.

His lidded eyes stayed on yours as his right hand that was holding the tie, slowly drifted down your body, his left sneaking out and gripping your hip to hold you in place. His right hand finally reached your hip, curving around the front of you, removing the waistband from your grasp causing your face to turn bright red, only for him to slip the end of the tie into the hold of the waistband, slowly sneaking his fingers around your waist, feeding the tie through, until finally it poked out the other hole in the front. He returned his left hand to your hip, his right gripping both ends of the tie, pausing to smirk widely at you, flashing his tongue ring before yanking harshly, pulling the waistband tight around your waist and effectively pulling you flush against him at the hip, nose to nose, your face tilted down just slightly too match eyes with him.

His scent was intoxicating. You were completely enveloped in it, and your omega was begging for him to scent you so it never left. And he was waiting for you to ask him oh so patiently. He could smell what he was doing to you, making him laugh internally that he was going to get his way quicker than he thought. Your omega reasoned that he was a strong and capable alpha. He had been nothing but nice to you since you woke up and he wasn’t forcing himself onto you like most of the alphas you had meet previously. He was being so kind and gentle and he smelled so damn good. Why can’t you just…

Because he’s a murderer? He kidnapped you? You have an Alpha? Oh and he’s a murderer!

You pulled yourself out of his grasp, releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. Taking the tie out of his hand, he let the rope slide through his fingers, not making a move to stop you from leaving his presence, knowing that you would be back. You turned away, tying it into a bow snuggly against your waist so that the sweat pants stayed up on their own now. You took several calming deep breathes, trying to get your brain back in order. Not noticing when he reached down and snatched your panties off the floor, stuffing them into his pocket for later.

“Y/N” You barely whispered out. Your omega was still reaching out to him, trying to push you back into his arms. But you wouldn’t listen. Your brain was frazzled and you felt like the world was spinning.

“Hmm?” The soft hum behind you, made you shiver, wondering if he was going to reach out and touch you again. You wanted him to. God you wanted him to. He didn’t though. Just leaned back on the bed, using his hands to prop himself up, enjoying the view of your backside as the inner turmoil raged in your head.

You snapped yourself out of it, clenching your fists as you crossed the room to the chair in the corner, curling up on it deciding it was as good a place as any to sleep. A soft mumble leaving your lips once more as you pulled the hood up and over your face, covering it completely from his sight other than the tip of your nose peaking out like a little mouse, the red of your blush noticeable from across the room. “My name… it’s Y/N.”

#bnah omegaverse #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha omegaverse #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x reader #dabi x you

894 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 290: It’s Touya Time

Previously on BnHA: Iida and Hadou showed up like a couple of Pennsylvanias and Georgias to bail Shouto out at the last minute. Ochako and Toga had an exceptionally strange fight which consisted of Toga being all “guess what Ochako, I used your quirk to murder someone, how do you feel about that”, and Ochako being all “I do not like that”, to which Toga was all “:(”. There was some doll-stealing and some bookcase-yeeting, and then Toga left in tears because Ochako was all adamant that murder has consequences. Anyway so I have absolutely no idea what Toga is thinking now, but I guess we’ll have some time to stew on it, because we ended the chapter by cutting back to the Iida+Hadou+Shouto VS Afomura battle, which was interrupted by Gigantomachia and the LoV showing up like a bunch of Floridas to ruin everyone’s nice day.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi hands the mic over to Dabi and is all “take it away, kid.” Over in Room 315 of Musutafu General, Rei is all “may I please watch some TV” and the hospital staff is all “sure”, and so she tunes in just in time to catch Todoroki Touya’s Peabody Award-winning documentary “Number One Hero, Number One Fraud: The Todoroki Enji Story”, which is being broadcast nationwide courtesy of Skeptic and his magic laptop. Meanwhile in Jakku, Dabi is all “I’M TOUYA, BITCHES”, and Shouto and Enji are all, “(゜◇゜ )”, and Dabi is all, “anyway so just to sum it all up, because of how much of a jerk Endeavor was, I am now Evil.” Everyone continues to be all “(ﾟoﾟ)” except for Dabi, who is all “└(˘▾˘┌ )≡ ( ┐˘▾˘)┘≡┗( ˘▾˘)┛≡┏( ˘▾˘)┓≡┗( ˘▾˘)┛” for pretty much the rest of the chapter. Idk. Just let the man have his fun, guys. He’s waited a long time for this.

y’all I have a confession to make. I am technically not spoiled for this chapter thanks to my robustly paranoid system of spoiler-tag-filtering, which is extensive enough that it pretty much will catch whenever someone so much as breathes something even remotely new-chapter-related. that being said, I like to think that I am capable of making basic logical inferences! and so the fact that for the past 36 hours, my dashboard has pretty much nonstop consisted almost entirely of this...

...has led me to conclude that MAYBE, POSSIBLY, PROBABLY, BUT ALSO DEFINITELY, a certain someone is finally going to reveal his ~secret identity~ woop woop. lmao

anyway so everyone, please remember to act surprised though, as we would not want Dabi’s feelings to be hurt at all. he has been planning this moment for the last decade or so and I wouldn’t want him to feel like all of that effort was for naught. so just play along, okay. OH MY, IF IT ISN’T THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS’ MYSTERIOUS DABI. WHATEVER COULD HIS ARRIVAL POSSIBLY BE HERALDING, I JUST DON’T KNOW

“Dabi’s Dance” lmao. I’m sticking with Touya Time myself. ngl I had this recap title planned out for at least the past year or so. just waiting for that day to finally come

anyway so some people in some building somewhere are all “TURN OFF THE TV IN ROOM 315” and idk. I’m guessing the LoV is hacking the airwaves to livestream the reveal, as predicted

-- oh shit. UHHHHHHHH

did she always have this TV or did she get it just recently?? jfc of all the times for the hospital staff to finally loosen up

um... so that’s... (・＿・；)

well but I mean, she was gonna find out one way or the other at some point though. like you can’t really just keep her locked up and isolated from all news of the outside world forever and ever and ever. granted, this isn’t exactly the ideal way for her to learn this particular bit of information, but it’s not really ideal for anybody else either! EXCEPT DABI, THAT IS. have yourself a day you funky little terrorist

oh shit what is this?? it’s not live???

over in Jakku, a red-faced, sputtering Dabi makes a frantic grab for Skeptic’s laptop. “WAIT, NO, JESUS, NOT THAT TAPE!”

lol. but seriously Dabi are you even wearing a shirt. like I’m not one to slutshame anyone bro, but it’s just, exactly what type of mood were you looking to set here??

anyway so we really are cutting back to Jakku now, and Gigantomachia is all, “MASTERS”! which, I wonder if he really did use the plural? that’s right Machia, both of them in one place now! that sure is convenient for you huh

lol what is this with all this AFO monologuing. you’re really gonna make me read through this when I’m sitting here all sleep-deprived from election week. JUST GET TO THE TOUYAS. WE WERE PROMISED TOUYAS!!

sigh

“tee hee it’s fucking hilarious how goddamn powerful I am now lol”

alas, in spite of myself I do have two serious takeaways from this. one is that AFO is still controlling most of Tomura’s body behind the scenes, which both does and doesn’t bode well for Tomura (like, at least he’s not dying, but the long-term implications of this for his free will and such certainly are not Good). and two is that this confirms that Ujiko did give Tomura at least one powerful mutant quirk, which explains why he was still so deadly and indestructible even when Aizawa was using Erasure on him (since Erasure doesn’t work on mutant quirks, just emitter and transformation ones)

MEANWHILE ON TODAY’S EPISODE OF “TODOROKI SHOUTO’S TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD LIFE”

I like how he doesn’t actually say that he can’t take on Gigantomachia. just that he can’t take on him and Afomura at the same time. that’s confidence, baby. that right there is why you always draft Todoroki Shouto in the first round for your fantasy team

HADOU!!!!

OOOH, TOMURA’S ALL “MAN, THIS GIRL’S WAVE POWERS AND THIS KID’S ICE POWERS ARE A SUPER-STRONG COMBO DAGNABBIT.” YESSS I LIKE THAT, TELL ME MORE ABOUT HOW COOL AND POWERFUL THEY ARE

HOT DAMN LOOK AT THAT

um but not to take away from this exceptionally cool moment or anything, but why is Endeavor dying and shouting “RUN” down there in the corner um

excuse me. not to take away from How Bad This All Is, but!!

just a little, smol, IidaBaku for everyone. Iida, who apparently doesn’t know a damn thing about first aid and is all, “hmm that’s a pretty bad-looking puncture wound he has in his left shoulder there, I think I’ll just let his arm dangle freely like that and I won’t bother taking off his heavy gauntlets either. I mean. he’ll be fine, probably.” smh. at least Shouto probably cauterized the wounds

EXCUSE ME WHAT

TIME FOR MORE OF THAT GOOD OLD FASHIONED SHOUNEN RIDICULOUSNESS I GUESS LMAO. KACCHAN YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO. THERE IS A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, AND YOU LOST LIKE FOUR GALLONS OF BLOOD, BUT SURE. “PUT ME DOWN” HE SAYS. FIRST OF ALL, PUTTING ASIDE THE FACT THAT YOU ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT BE CONSCIOUS, THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN GOING TO DO, LIE DOWN AT THEM?? LISTEN, YOU SWEET IDIOT. TAKE HEED, BELOVED DUMBASS!!

ah well. I guess he gets to watch the Touya Show now too then lol

LMAOOOO now Machia’s lifting Tomura carefully in his palm like a broken action figure and Spinner is all “THE FUCK, YOU LOOK LIKE DEATH WARMED OVER”

“oh hey there Spinner. well let’s see, I woke up from my three-month coma and destroyed a city, had my body incinerated, and am currently being possessed by a diabolically evil potato. but please, tell me more about everything you've been through”

AW YISS AND THE FOCUS NOW SHIFTS TO THE TODOROKIS. EVERYTHING IS PROCEEDING EXACTLY AS WE HAVE FORESEEN

Endeavor my dude. it’s as if you want to die here. also holy shit, that bit about his lungs definitely does not bode well for him either

MOTHERFUCKER

GO AHEAD AND SIGN YOUR OWN DEATH CERTIFICATE, WHY DON’T YOU!! FLAGS UPON FLAGS. JESUS CHRIST

meanwhile Dabi’s just waving at ‘em

lmaoooo please oh please Caleb please keep this ‘EYYYYYYY’, it’s fucking perfect kdlshk;hg

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: so as you will see very shortly, I completely missed this detail in my first read-through because I was so anxious to get to the reveal page, but THIS MOTHERFUCKER LITERALLY DOUSED HIMSELF WITH INSTANT HAIR DYE REMOVER THAT HE’S JUST BEEN CARRYING AROUND IN A LITTLE HIP POUCH APPRENTLY SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. MOTHERFUCKER. I HAVE NO WORDS.)

IS THIS THE TIME. IS THIS THE MOMENT?! HERE IT COMES SLKFHS BRACE YERSELVES LADS

EYYYYYYYYYYYY

OKAY EVERYONE JUST LIKE WE PRACTICED!! SURPRISED FACES ON THREE! ONE... TWO... (•̪ o •̪) !! okay how was that

LMAO ENDEAVOR

at least Shouto looks properly stunned. Enji just looks like endeavor.exe just straight up stopped working

meanwhile Deku’s out here trying to do the math on this latest surprise family reveal! first Tomura is related to Nana, and now this. what’s next. who are you related to, Spinner. he rips off his boots to reveal engine legs and declares himself Iida’s long-lost uncle

oh shit Touya

it’s as if a million fanworks suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly jossed. who knew that all this time he was secretly sporting a crop top scar

also, THIRTY?! holy shit son you been busy

la la la two-page spread of Touya casually driving the dagger into Endeavor’s hero career and rocking the foundations of hero society as we know it la la la

la la la!!!

OH IS THAT THE END OF THE STORY THEN

almost got confused for a sec. there’s two monologues happening at once here. Endeavor doesn’t even know that his dirty laundry is being aired out nation-wide as we speak ffffff

btw while I appreciate the close-ups of Enji and Shouto here for sure, ngl I would also really love to see everyone else’s reactions right now. SHOW ME BAKUGOU AND THE LOV YOU COWARDS

is his hair actually turning white all of a sudden?? your hair dye just reacts on command??

(ETA: in all seriousness though, the hell kind of hair dye was he using? all he has to do is pour a bottle of that stuff and not even lather it in and it’s just gone just like that?? what the fuck would have have done if it ever rained lmao.

and this motherfucker just goes and leaves the dye remover in afterwards, too. I have never dyed my hair in my life and even I can tell you that’s probably not a good idea, Dabi.)

is this it. is this the legendary Dabi Dance in action. lmfao

oh hey what the fuck

so you figured you’d just murder your innocent younger brother to get revenge on dad, huh. well that’s nice

is that really all there is to the origin story though?? feels like we’re still missing a huge chunk of it. what was it that finally sent him over the edge? or was the trauma of being created as Endeavor’s perfect little hero tool and then being subsequently rejected by him enough on its own? because I’m still kind of confused on the part where he goes from “abused and discarded by his father” to “killed thirty people and was plotting the murder of his own brother” to tell you the truth

(ETA: lmao the initial fandom reaction to this did not disappoint. listen guys. people can be traumatized and shaped by awful circumstances that are completely out of their control, and grow up to be people they wouldn’t have grown up to be if things had been better, and all of that absolutely sucks, but. it doesn’t mean they get a get-out-of-jail-free card for all of their future actions, either! the tragedy of this situation is that terrible things happened to Touya, and he then went on to do terrible things himself. the tragedy of it is that this is exactly how the cycle of abuse keeps repeating itself on and on and on. maybe one of the people Dabi killed had a child who will now grow up traumatized themselves, and potentially go on to pay it forward themselves when they grow up. the tragedy is that the eye-for-an-eye justice that Touya is seeking out won’t actually make anything better in the end. the tragedy is that we understand why Touya is so angry, but that anger has basically warped him into the gleefully sadistic dancing figure we see in this chapter who has stopped caring about anyone else’s pain or suffering and just wants his own revenge.

anyway. basically what I’m trying to say is that it’s possible for the concepts of “Todoroki Touya was an innocent child and a victim of abuse” and “Dabi is a grown-ass motherfucking adult who killed thirty people and PROBABLY NEEDS TO BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THAT” to coexist lol. like, y’all wanted your moral grey, well HERE YOU GO lmao, eat up.)

lol but LOOK AT THAT BOY DANCE HIS LITTLE HEART OUT though

Todoroki Touya confirmed not a fan of the Endeavor redemption arc huh. well we all saw this coming lols

anyways here’s a sexy Touya for y’all

you really are the most theatrical bitch I s2g lmao

also for real though, what is happening with his hair? anime team in shambles here. they’re probably just gonna double down and keep it red. too bad though cuz this is a surprisingly good look on him

SO MANY CLOSE-UPS OF THE TODOROKI FACES

friendly reminder that Dabi without a doubt REHEARSED this speech like a thousand fucking times. LET US FALL TOGETHER!! COME DANCE WITH YOUR SON IN HELL. apparently if you fake your own death in middle school you will never mentally age past that point and will remain a permanent chuuni

OH LMAO THAT’S THE END

we really just gonna end on “DANCE WITH YOUR SON IN HELL”, huh. very well then. you know what song to play, Horikoshi. one, two... YOU ARE MY DAD. YOU’RE MY DAD!! BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE

#bnha 290 #dabi #todoroki touya #todoroki enji #todoroki shouto #todoroki rei #bakugou katsuki #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

521 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Return to Sender: (Richard Alonso Muñoz x GN reader)

What is this? This is 4/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. I’m not gonna share the prompt as it’s spoilery, but it was requested by @sergeantkane who is a genius for picking this combo! It’s a prompt about LOVE LETTERS! Omg! And thus, it matches perfectly with Richard (trust me, I had NOT made that connection when I made the prompt list :P). Thank you so much for requesting, Clarke, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m excited about this one!

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Oh, I really quite like this one. Hope it makes you feel as soft as I did for Richard while writing it! Also- it’s my first bash at writing him, so let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who helped with film details too: those not already tagged in the post- @prurientpuddlejumper @witchyavenger @veuliee2 @waatermelon-sugaar @pascal-isaac

Word count: 4.5 k. So not a blurb, then? :P

Rating: Mature, for light steam (not explicit, but 18+ or out, please!)

Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Mild angst (but it ends well), Steamy. Kissing, brief non-explicit mention of erection. Implied coitus (cut scene). Richard works in a “correctional facility”. Small mention of attempted break-in. If I missed any let me know.

Tagging: @anetteaneta @isvvc-pvscvl @nowritingonthewall @supernovafeather (ONLY READ IF 18+)

GIF by @nathan-bateman

“Have you ever received a love letter?” Richard wonders shyly, without looking up from his crossword puzzle, his long eyelashes fanned out as his gaze dances over the monochrome squares.

Meanwhile, your eyes snap up immediately from your magazine, which you are idly leafing through, a breath catching in your chest.

You bristle at the question, and yet Richard seems either entirely oblivious, or entirely determined not to look-up at you. Perhaps both. So, instead of looking, he simply slurps the dregs of his milkshake, and pushes his plate of waffle remnants further toward the far end of the diner booth.

When he finally raises his gaze – a gentle prompt for you to answer him- his eyes are large and shining under the fluorescent lights as he peers at you over his glass, dabbing at his thick moustache with a paper napkin shortly after.

“No, never,” you state sadly, heeding his prompt with a small smile and a shake of your head. Not even a love e-mail.

“I’m surprised,” he flatters with a cautious smile. And, if you’re not mistaken, his eyes light-up with the faintest trace of desire. The barest undercurrent of passion, which is enough to have your heart beating like a drum. You notice it sometimes; this dull heat emanating off of him. It is a spark which never ignites, however - to your endless disappointment; you would fan that flame if only you knew how.

You swallow. He’s surprised? He can’t be that surprised, you think, a stone sinking through your stomach as you dwell too long on the topic of love letters, and meanwhile, Richard’s attention seamlessly diverts back to 3 across.

“You deserve one,” he says, still looking at the page, but a smile animating his wiry moustache. “A letter.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a spiralling sadness catching hold of you. Does he not understand what this is doing to you? This painful reminder? “Can we drop it, Richard?” you say tensely, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are even more soft and cautious than usual, causing you to admonish yourself for the bite in your tone.

“Yes,” he says. “Of course,” he smiles thinly, apologetically.

It’s simply the new job, you think. Director of Communications. The man has letters on the brain. Richard is so considerate, that you realise he must not intend to hurt you in dredging up the past; he would never. In a way though, you think, it’s even worse that he brings it up so… casually. You can only conclude he has forgotten that you sent your letter to him at all. Had your heartfelt words, declaring your love, had so little impact on him?

Maybe that’s it. After all, they seemed to have so little impact upon him at the time. What could you expect years later? On the other hand, you -apparently- remain rather sore about the topic, all this time later. It’s natural to be sensitive though, isn’t it? You’d written him a love letter and he didn’t write you back. He didn’t say it back. Didn’t feel it back.

And, perhaps it still stings so much, even all these years later, because you never did stop loving him, even if he never started loving you.

Feeling a sudden, overwhelming haste to leave, you thumb through the pages of your magazine so furiously that the next table turn their heads to look at you, until you find what you were searching for.

“Here, Richard. The article I mentioned. Dramatherapy for people who are incarcerated.”

You fold the magazine back on itself, fobbing it off on him with an unprecedented urgency, hurriedly signalling to the waitress that you’d like the check. The roomy diner booth suddenly feels suffocating, and you want to get out. Meanwhile, oblivious, Richard chuckles at the title of the article -some kind of pun, you recall- as you try to push down the unpleasant emotions surfacing within you.

“Thank you for this,” he smiles, looking up at you earnestly. Looking concerned as he reads the expression on your face. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes fix on the table, where his fingertips inch hesitantly across the surface, hovering moments from yours as he debates whether to extend comfort. You make the decision for him, snatching your hand back from his reach.

“Yes. I’m Fine,” you say, unconvincingly. “Can we please go? I need some fresh air.”

“Alright,” Richard agrees gently. He looks a little flustered, but, now sensing your urgency, he begins to sweep up his papers and to shrug on his jacket. He pulls out a small comb to fix his neat curls in place, and offers you a soft smile. “Maybe we can go to the park next?” he suggests.

As much as you want to run, you nod, some of your agitation dissipating now that the prior topic seems to be forgotten. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.” You school your expression into something calm, and you offer him a reassuring smile as his soulful eyes dance over you, a lingering but unobtrusive concern there.

As you split the check, you tell yourself for the millionth time that being his friend is enough; but even after the millionth time, you can’t quite believe it.

Still, today -Sunday- is your one day with him this week. And, no matter what you can’t have; you’ll take anything you can get.

He’s too dear to you to settle for anything less.

************

One month later:

You crouch in amongst the boxes on Richard’s front lawn. He is having a clear-out, setting out some items for goodwill, and some for a neighbourhood yard sale happening next weekend.

You are having fun assisting him in sifting through various items, occasionally bursting into a fit of laughter when he reveals yet another ill-informed, late night shopping channel “bargain” – usually some new-fangled, scarcely-used exercise contraption, which he proceeds to demonstrate in good-humour, making you fold over clutching your stomach in mirth. Occasionally, as you rifle through the boxes, you’ll be overcome by a pang of sentimentality when he uncovers an item with a memory attached; and -no matter how useless- he usually sneaks said item into his ever-growing “to-keep” pile.

“But this is the picnic hamper we took to Bound Beach Island! For your birthday, remember?”

“Yeah, Richard, but it’s battered! It has holes! It needs to go.”

“It was a beautiful day. The light and the dunes were beautiful… and… and y-“

“-Oh my goodness, what is this?! Please for the love of God tell me you never actually wore this!”

You work through the midday sun until you come to a tired, dead halt on the grass, finally parking your ass down and wiping your brow. Richard looks warm too, a “v” of sweat soaking his old, oversized “Save the Turtles” t-shirt. No - he really doesn’t throw anything away. You smile fondly, though, remembering his sea turtle phase. Of course, he’d read some article. He always was looking for a cause.

“I’ll make us some iced tea,” Richard announces with a tired puff of breath, looking more spent than he probably wants to admit after shuttling the various boxes. Still, the way his grizzled curls have fallen away from his harsh side-part appeals to you, sitting disobedient and undone on his forehead.

Thinking of him undone, you hear a faint beating of drums sound in your chest.

You ignore the music though, like always, instead smiling gratefully as he heads inside, and you take a second to collect yourself before dragging the nearest box towards you, deciding you may as well continue. This next box is taped securely shut, and you chuckle quietly to yourself when you notice it’s labelled “workout-gear”.

You peel the packing tape away and open it up, scooping out the pile of miscellaneous papers sitting right on top. Beginning to leaf through, you surmise it’s mainly unopened junk mail; mainly garishly printed promotional flyers - from a pizzeria which closed down years ago, you recognise. Probably hastily stuffed in before his last move and never dealt with. Absent-mindedly, you begin to bundle it up for the recycling pile, when a smaller, more humble envelope drops out on to your lap, a hand-scrawled address on the front. The stationary is resoundingly familiar.

In fact, everything about it is familiar.

Your heart hammers in your chest as it immediately dawns on you.

It’s your letter.

The letter you sent him, all those years ago. You’d needed to be apart from him- needed to go away to take care of family, and you simply couldn’t go without letting him know. Letting him know you were in love with him.

The memory is like a slow knife sinking into your chest as you idly turn it over in your hands.

But… It can’t be…?

It’s… unopened.

All the air leaves you lungs.

No. No. It doesn’t make a shred of sense.

You’d spoken to him right afterward, on the phone. The first time he’d called after you left town he’d almost pleaded with you, giving you an unequivocally clear, and endlessly painful answer that he didn’t want what you wanted. What you’d written about. He’d made it abundantly obvious that he simply wanted to be friends. “I- I don’t want anything to change. I want everything to stay exactly like it is between us – please? Can we still talk every day?”

But if he didn’t read it…?

You heart pounds so hard that you hear blood rushing in your ears.

He doesn’t know.

His words didn’t mean what you…

Oh my god. All this time.

You shoot abruptly to standing when you see him approach, as if you’ve been caught red-handed, guiltily stuffing the letter into your back pocket before he can ask you what it is, an abundance of thoughts screaming in your head.

He hands you the glass of tea, ice tinkling gently, and you take it from him, the coolness shocking your palms.

Assessing what you’ve been up to in his absence, and noting the carcass of another box, Richard glances down at the pile of papers strewn at your feet. He looks suddenly worried for a moment, as if you might have found an old porn stash or something – and he looks just as suddenly relieved when he sees they are more innocent papers, scooping them up from the grass.

“Richard?” you say, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and the letter burning a hole in your pocket as he drops the items into the recycling. He hums for you to go on. “Do you... You know when I moved away...?” your voice is strained, and you gulp hard. “Just before, do you remember getting any unusual letters or... weird post from me?”

“Like what kind of thing?” he asks curiously, turning back to you.

“I don’t know exactly,” you lie, nervously. “I have a feeling I sent you something? A sappy goodbye thing?”

You see him mull it over, combing his impressive moustache with his fingers. “I don’t remember, sorry. But apparently I was drowning in junk mail at that apartment. Maybe it got lost, or returned to sender?”

Despite everything, you exhale a small laugh. In a roundabout way, you suppose it had been returned to sender after all. You look at the ground.

“Was it important?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looks at you.

Biding time, you take a sip of your tea while you search for an answer. It’s refreshing.

“It… Uh. It was a long, long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, I suppose,” you muse, masking your sadness, and he nods, looking at least half-satisfied with your answer.

Except, it does matter. It matters more than anything. And, with a sudden, overwhelming need to grab on to the past, you track to the “to go” box, rescuing the battered picnic basket from the pile of junk.

“You shouldn’t get rid of this,” you state, your back to Richard, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice falters. You tense as you feel him settle by your side, his hand hovering tentatively at the small of your back but never quite touching. “It was a beautiful day.”

“No,” he insists. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hang on to it.”

His words are like a punch in the gut. You turn your head to your side, where Richard is, your eyes and heart almost overflowing.

Noting your sadness, and connecting it to the picnic basket, he does everything he can to smooth things over, like always. “We can get a new one,” he says, his brown eyes sweet and hopeful and bright.

You love him. You love him still and you can’t help but turn towards him and reach out your arms, dragging him in for a hug.

“No! No, I’m sweaty,” he protests self-consciously, but you don’t care. You just need to hold him, even only for a moment – and, for a moment he stills as you loop around him, never quite clutching you back.

When you pull away though, you could swear that dim spark of passion is present in his eyes again. That spark that never catches, no matter how much or how often or how hard you wish it would. Oh, how you wish.

“Don’t ever change, Richard,” you say sincerely, your voice imbued with fondness. “Okay? You’re a sweet, wonderful man.”

His eyes are immediately soft and bashful again, the colour of his cheeks deepening a little, a crimson undertone blooming under his brown skin.

“Yes. Okay,” he offers, with a nod, his eyes creasing at the corners, and his posture even bolstered by the compliment, you could swear, his chest puffing out proudly.

For the rest of the afternoon, you ignore the unread words in the back of your pocket; but for the life of you, you can’t ignore those drums.

************

One month later:

You bundle the yapping, happy little white dog into your arms, relieved that she’s okay as her little tail happily beats against your arm.

“Are you okay, Lady?” you coo as she nuzzles her snoot into your face, eagerly lapping little kisses on to your cheek. “Thanks goodness, sweet little floof,” you baby-talk as your eyes quickly scan around Richard’s place, setting his spare key down on the kitchen counter.

You’d barrelled across town to get here, after receiving a call about an attempted break-in. His neighbour to the left had your contact details in case of an emergency -it’s not very easy to reach him at work, of course- so here you are. You came to give things a quick checking over, assured that no-one suspicious had continued to loiter. Richard won’t be much longer -his shift has nearly ended, and you’d left him a voicemail so you’re sure he’ll hurry- but you still thought you’d go on ahead of him, especially so that he wouldn’t worry about Lady.

Looking around, thankfully all seems well, and you don’t think anyone made it inside after all. Slowly then, you allow your nerves to calm and your heart to settle, bouncing the little bundle of fur in your arms, and feeding her a treat from the packet on top of the microwave, just in case she’d been stressed out.

Calming, you can’t help but smile as you look around, absorbing all the little details of Richard. You do hang out in his apartment a fair amount, but most often you will meet or sit outdoors, when the weather allows. After all, he loves to feel the sun and fresh air on his face, especially after spending all day cooped-up in windowless rooms. To you though, this Richard-ness is like a breath of fresh air, and you let it all wash over you, drinking in the details of his simple daily routine. The discarded half-plate of frijoles and rice by the sink. The ironing-board piled with identical uniform-issue shirts, pants, and plain white t-shirts. The photos on the fridge door – some of you and him too.

Doing a lap of the living space, you further note the dining-for-one TV table, evidence of his relatively solitary existence, and you can almost see him sitting there. Can almost hear his soft voice relating the far-fetched storylines of his favourite telenovelas. You imagine him chuckling warmly - perhaps shedding a tear sometimes too.

You decide you should pop your head into the bedroom and bathroom to check there too, for good measure, and you set Lady down, the dog trotting along at your heels. Once you’ve done a loop, you sigh, seeking out a fresh task, and you circle back to the sink, scraping his discarded plate and rinsing it, stacking it in the dishrack. Then, you move towards the TV chair, intending simply to sit yourself down and wait for Richard to come home. After all, you’re here now - you may as well say hello; or, maybe you can even prepare him dinner after his long shift, you muse.

As you revisit the small, rickety table, however, your eyes more keenly notice that a bunch of papers are strewn over it, all identical- a series of pastel pink leaves of paper and envelopes.

Letters.

Handwritten, in his familiar scrawl.

Letters addressed to you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, as you wonder what they could be. You don’t want to invade his privacy, of course, but perhaps this is something that’s meant for you? After all, sometimes he leaves you notes when you come over to feed or walk Lady.

Still, this feels different, and, with a lump in your throat that you don’t quite understand, you pick up one of the leaves at random, skimming the first line, yet feeling only more confused than you did before.

You see your name at the head of the paper, followed by the words “my dearest love,”, and underneath, some other half-formed paragraphs, scribbled over and crossed out.

No, you shake your head, your stomach flipping over. That can’t be right, you think, even as your fingers scramble for another leaf - for leaf upon leaf, until you piece together what’s going on. Until, with every line you read, fragments of both English and Spanish, you feel as though you are piecing together his heart.

Could it be true? Is this really true?

Your fingers dive for a sheet more developed that the rest, where you see paragraphs of writing, and you devour the words like you are starved of love; for you are, aren’t you? Starved? And yet, you suddenly feel so full. Brimming.

My darling,

There are infinite ways to fall in love. Some are elemental, like a raging fire. A shock of lightning on first sight. Some are slow-burning and constant, the heat of friendship warming your hearth, defrosting your iced fingertips when you come in from the cold.

There are infinite ways to fall in love, and I should know, my heart, as I have experienced every one of them with you.

You can barely read the rest as tears blur your eyes, and your hand comes to clamp over your mouth as realisation sinks through to the pit of you, the page quaking -like a leaf- in your fingers.

You make my heart beat like a drum. When I look at you, I am music, without being played. When you’re with me I am dancing, without movement. If only you would touch my skin, I feel like I would sing. If only you would-

“-Are you safe? Are you alright?” Richard asks from behind you, and you tear your eyes away from the page with a start. You were so absorbed by this swell of beating music that you didn’t hear the scrape of his key in the lock. You didn’t hear his hurried footsteps coming up behind you.

“Richard,” you suspire, and for once his touch is on you without hesitation, his hands clasped around each of your shoulders, slowly running down your arms, and you nod quickly to reassure him, your mouth opening wordlessly. You’re safe.

His touch is warm through your clothes, and you think he is right- your skin would sing for him too if he touched you. Your love rattles you, like drums beating musically in your chest, pulsing through your body.

Then, Richard clocks your sideward, guilty glance at the pile of letters, and you see his panic instantly surface at the thought of all his unsent and unspoken words laid bare before you. All the pieces of his heart exposed.

At first, he looks apologetic, but then you step forwards a little more, into the circle of his arms. Arms which suddenly fall, unsure, at his sides once again. And, achingly slow, endlessly sure, you lift up you hand and you place it on his chest, over his heart, smoothing over his shirt and over the cool metal of the shield he wears there. You feel his heart really is beating like a drum. His chest is rising and falling beneath your hand, his breath quickened – eyes nervous.

You step a little closer, and your fingers continue their slow crawl, dancing up around his collar, inching further up until your fingers finally brush the bare skin at the nape of his neck, pushing up into the curls behind his ears, your thumb skimming his sideburn. You touch him, with your fingertips, and he does sing for you, a half-choked moan leaving his mouth at your tender caress.

“Richard,” you say breathily, searching his face, eyes openly appraising his beauty. “Don’t worry, sweet man. I love you too.” And, when you next meet his eyes there is no nervousness there. Not any longer. Instead, you find his dark, expressive eyes brewing with adoration, and that gentle but ever ascending note of passion.

“Darling, can I kiss you?” he pleads, his voice dogged by desire, his brow knitting together and his hands slipping bravely to your waist, circling you as you arch into him.

“Yes. Yes,” you say, and his mouth meets yours in a desperate, tumultuous crush. You sing too, your skin thrumming as you finally know the feeling of his thick moustache brushing against you. As you taste the sweet flavour of cherry sucker on his kiss. As you finally feel the texture of his slicked curls beneath your fingertips.

You kiss, urgently, until you are each smiling too broadly to continue, and instead Richard beams and presses sweet, intermittent kisses all over – your cheeks, your forehead, your hair, your neck- his moustache tickling wherever it touches. His hands are everywhere they can be politely, roaming over your back and your arms and your hair, and it feels so good to finally be held like this.

Eventually, he pulls back, his smile no longer tugging at his lips so keenly -lips now kiss flushed with deep colour- but shining in his liquid eyes. “How long have you loved me back?” he asks in a still choked, disbelieving voice.

You bite your lip, but then allow your face to split in a radiant, unrestrained grin.

Always. Always. I loved you first, you think.

You reach for your bag, reluctant to break from him so trailing your love’s hand in yours- and you fish out the letter. The one you’ve carried around since it was returned to you. “Take a look, Richard,” you encourage.

He looks from you to the small envelope, turning it in his spare hand as you pass it to him. “What is this?”

His brows rise in confusion as you tap the stamped postmark with your index finger. Years. Years ago.

“I sent you a letter,” you explain. “Telling you I loved you. That I love you,” you correct, squeezing his hand tightly in yours, amazed at how natural it feels already, to touch him.

He audibly gasps in air, looking pained. Devastated. “I never got it. I would’ve-“, he fumbles for words, but he can’t finish them, the magnitude of all those years lost to yearning too big to wrap his lips around. “I never got it,” he repeats sorrowfully.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about that now,” you soothe. “I got your letter.” And, as you engulf him with your arms a soft smile takes over his features once again. He can’t help it.

“I’m so glad you did,” he beams, drawing you to him for another kiss, which you eagerly accept, opening your mouth to him.

God, he’s a good kisser, his tongue in you deep and eager, and the heat generated is quick to catch, a fire lit in the pit of you. That moustache is a divine thing too, his lips soft and full beneath, his mild-mannered tongue positively sinful as it works against yours.

Letting the kiss grow, you grab hold of him by the belt to draw his body closer to yours, arching your hips into his, and you feel an impressive bulge greet you as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers bashfully, angling his hips away from you, in case you’re not ready for… that yet. “You’re perfection. So perfect, I… I’m a little bit, uh, excited.”

You don’t blame him. You’re a little bit excited too. There’s a drum beating in your chest. Music in your heart. A song everywhere. A dance in your body.

“W-would you like to take me to the bedroom, Richard?” you purr, softly. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You wish you could capture the bliss which sparks in his eyes then, and keep stoking it forever more. His whole being glows as if you are the sun shining down on him. He loves the sun on his face. He loves you.

He loves you.

*******

Later that night:

At some point after round three, Richard is ravenous, and so you head to the kitchen to grab some snacks. One of Richard’s plaid shirts wards off the slight chill, settled over your otherwise naked body. As you microwave something quick, you can barely keep the smile from your face – even more so as you glance over at the table full of half-finished letters. As the microwave pings and you grab out the plate, another idea occurs to you, and you simply can’t help yourself.

So, you pad mysteriously back towards the bedroom, where Richard is waiting. The blanket is slung low over his hips, skimming the dark trail of hair which draws your gaze down beyond his abdomen. He is covered, and yet you bloom blissfully with heat at your new-found knowledge of what lays beneath. He’s laying with one hand folded behind his head, and one hand rested on the soft, roundness of his stomach, which you had laid your head on only moments ago.

Richard’s eyes shine with unadulterated admiration as you enter, and you flash him a mischievous smile as you transfer the plate to his hands, and subsequently tip a cascade of his letters into the middle of the bed.

“What’s all this?” he asks, with a contented laugh as you bounce eagerly into bed by his side, humming in equal contentment as you slot yourself under his arm.

“I want you to read them to me. Will you?” you ask, sweetly, and he looks bashful all over again. “No-one has ever sent me a love letter.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles. “Or I thought so…”

He hesitates, perhaps feeling shy, but he wraps his arm around you securely, nuzzling you into his side as he picks up the closest leaf of paper.

He hums gratefully as you begin to stroke his smooth chest. He really does sing whenever you touch him.

“They’re not finished,” he caveats. “I wanted to find the perfect words and I… I couldn’t.”

“The words don’t have to be perfect. It’s more important that they’re delivered,” you say, your voice soft as you sink into him, and so, he gently clears his throat and he begins to read, his words and his rich, soothing voice filtering over you like warm sunshine.

After a moment listening, and letting his love and his letters envelop you, you interrupt him gently. “My sweet man. Promise me you’ll never write me another love letter?”

“Are they that awful?!” Richard exclaims.

“No!” you laugh, into his chest, tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just… I think I hate love letters, Richard. They’ve only ever kept me from you.”

His expression becomes wistful, lost in thought until a smile finally captures him. Then, with a finger curling gently under your chin, he dips down to plant a small kiss to the very tip of your nose.

“No more letters then,” he promises softly. “Let’s always promise to say it out loud from now on. Let’s talk every day.”

You heart full, you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, before planting a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips; and, despite what you’d just suggested, you plead for him to keep reading to you, his voice and his love lulling you to sleep in his arms.

With the love letters as kindling, your dim spark finally catches, your fire now blazing. You set it in a hearth in your chest, and you vow to keep it stoked for always.

THE END

Bonus:

#richard alonso muñoz x reader #Richard Alonso Muñoz #the letter room #richard alonso munoz x reader #oscar isaac #richard alonso-munoz x reader #luna's tumblrversary

186 notes · View notes

ashenpages · 3 years

Text

Current Projects & Emoji Voting Key

Quick disclaimer: I’m a romance writer in all aspects of the term, so most of my works will contain mature content. Engage at your own risk, you know the rules, you’re responsible for curating your own experience of the internet, blah blah blah.

This post serves as a current mock up of fic ideas I’m either actively working on or considering working on next. You can drop me an ask about any of them, or just vote via the emoji combo I’ve assigned them.

Voting lets me know you’re excited about an idea and makes it more likely I’ll actually work on it. You can vote anytime, there’re no deadlines or winner announcements, just me gauging your interest by what I see in my ask box most often.

You can also ask me about the original stuff I’m working on currently. The current WIPs are Medusa centric and the emoji for them is: 🐍

Support my original work on Ko-fi and Patreon.

- Lupin: 🤑🤠💍 These are all oneshot ideas, between 5-15K each. If you want to vote for a specific idea, send me the emojis and the number of the idea.

Born from the idea that Goemon and Zenigata probably couldn’t be an item, my brain decided to come up with how I could write for them. Goemon’s teaching an ikebana class as part of his training, and Zenigata shows up as a student on forced recreational leave for his health from the ICPO. Zenigata wins the samurai’s heart through flowers. But what happens when Lupin and Jigen find out? (Only good sexy things, I promise. These beans are in a healthy polycule--be gay, do crimes) (WIP)

Jigen/Lupin, but it's Jigen deciding to seduce Lupin while wearing his own Lupin disguise. The thief is waaaaay too into it, and some artistry is taken with the sex so that they don't mess up the disguise too much during their encoutner.

Jigen/Zenigata/Lupin where Jigen has some fantasices about Zenigata, but is pretty sure they'll never happen. Tells Lupin about them. Suddenly the fantasies are coming true, in the middle of a heist, and Jigen doesn't what to do except get swept up in the moment and enjoy. Plot twist, it's Lupin dressed up as Zenigata granting all his gunman's dreams. Plot twist again, Zenigata catches them at it.

Zenigata/Lupin, where Lupin keeps doing good things in illegal ways and Pops has to find a way to punish him for it. Good thing for Pops Lupin's a masochist?

Trans!Lupin and Trans!Jigen premise: Jigen cares for Lupin after the master thief has top surgery, since Jigen has Been There and Done That. Caring, sweet, and a little sexy. Lupin is a much better patient than Jigen.

The one time Zenigata caught Lupin in an alley and kissed him and it was Jigen in disguise. Things get sexy anyway, and Zenigata has crushes on two thieves now. Lupin and Jigen "kidnap" him later for an evening of taking care of their inspector.

The background plot of Jigen's Gravestone where we see Jigen think he's done for and try to leave Lupin. Our thief has none of it, and we get to relish in the inherent eroticism of Lupin sitting in sniper fire, knowing Jigen's got his back. This is the moment I think Jigen finally believes he can be with Lupin forever.

I love the idea of something longer and more plot driven like a Lupin special where Lupin ends up in hot water and Jigen and Fujiko have to work together to save him. Jigen and Fujiko have such an interesting relationship. They're both partners of Lupin, they don't really like each other, they constantly screw the other over, but when it really matters they take care of each other. I'd like to see that highlighted a little more and also give them space to call each other out and bicker. Nothing sexy between them, but maybe a really interesting threesome with Lupin and Fujiko in a strap on once they save their boy.

- Sonic Vampire Novelist Coffee Shop AU: 📚☕💐

Shadow is an immortal vampire who has seen the world change for the worse too many times. These days it feels like he only lives for his coffee dates with Rouge, another immortal who loves each new era they encounter, warts and all. He has to admit that the book series she got him into speaks to him, at least. If someone in this era can understand him without meeting him, it can’t all be bad. But he hardly expected the goofy blue barista at the new coffee place to understand him the way those books do.

This is a novel length romcom romp with some big feelings about what it means to watch as things change, grow, and die. Expect lots of Big gothic feelings from this one, emotionally charged kissing, and overly-adoring sex. But also expect shenanigans from everyone in the coffee shop, which include Rouge, Amy, Tails, Knuckles, Cream, and more.

- Sonic Blazamy, "Like the Sun": 💖🌸💎

Amy Rose has been in love with Sonic for a while.

Or has she?

When the Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Shadow, and Silver are trapped as the fuel sources for Doctor Eggman’s newest evil scheme, Amy teams up with Blaze, Rouge, and Cream to save them. With Sonic out of the picture and Amy fulfilling his role, was she ever really in love with him? Or did she just want to be like him?

This is a novel length epic romance with lots of competent women and lots of romantic Blazamy content. Expect flowery hopes and dreams, badass self-actualization, and glancing hand touches that give way to cuddly and sweet sex.

- Persona 5: 🗡🍛☕

After bringing down the Metaverse twice, Ryuji didn’t think graduating high school and figuring out what to do with his life would be so hard. Akira’s back in town, and the gang’s more-or-less all in Tokyo, but everyone else seems to have a plan while Ryuji just floats. How’s he supposed to change the world when he’s not a phantom thief anymore?

This is a novel length fic that addresses how powerless one can feel being just one person in the face of all the corrupted systems and bigotry the world has to offer. It’s about holding on to what you believe in, working through the doubt, and fighting your way to a better tomorrow with the power you do have. The whole gang is queer, featured relationships being Mako x Ann, Ryuji x Akira, Futaba & Yusuke as platonic life partners. Akira is polyamorous and omnisexual, Futaba’s asexual and aromantic while Yusuke is demisexual and very romantic, Makoto’s a lesbian, Ann and Ryuji are bi, and Haru’s pansexual, demisexual, and aromantic. They’re one giant band of queer Phantom Thieves, and even if they’re not really doing the Metaverse thing anymore, they’re still gonna save the world!

Also, I’m gonna make Makoto not a cop. That super didn’t age well. Zenkichi and his boss can work on making them better/abolishing them for other better organizations.

- Hades Game: ❤️‍🔥💀

Oneshot. I just really need to elaborate on the threesome you can have with them in-game, okay? Healthy and canon poly relationships are so few and far between, so often I have to do a ton of groundwork to explain why it’s working in the fic, but NOT WITH THESE KIDS!

Get ready for Meg helping Zag and Than be better at expressing their feelings, lots of kissing, and probably pegging.

- Castlevania Animation Trevor/Sypha/Alucard: 🧛🏰🛌

Castlevania gave Alucard a threesome last season, and I just really need S4 to give me him being taken care of by his partners. They’re probably not going to give it to me, so I’ll need to do it myself. This is just an everybody loves Alucard oneshot, with the gang’s signature banter (to an extent), Sypha being sexy, and Trever being remarkably sincere. This fic is gonna feel like that Ann Hathaway picture with Trevor kissing Alucard and Sypha holding the end of Trevor’s whip while she leans her head on Alucard’s shoulder adoringly.

- Devil May Cry Nico/Lady/Trish: 💋✨😈

Nico’s gay, okay? Like really, really gay. And Lady’s bi and not into men who make her pay bills, but very into women who make amazing guns for her and demonesses with hearts who fight by her side. Trish is ace, but loves people and is pretty attached to Lady at this point. Plus it’s cute when Lady blushes and says nice things like they’re insults. I don’t have super solid ideas for them yet, and I envision these more like a polycule where Lady’s with Nico and with Trish but they’re not with each other more than seeing it as a threesome, but who knows what might happen. This is probably 1-2 oneshots depending on ideas, but might turn into a series of oneshots if people are interested (or I can’t control myself and inspiration strikes).

- Post FMA:B Blind Roy & No Alchemy Ed: 👀👑🙏

This is actually an old novel-length fic I wrote ages ago and didn’t post that didn’t turn out well because I was new to writing sex when I first wrote it. The plot is good, and is all about Roy learning to work with his blindness to reclaim his ambition of being Fuhrer and changing the system to something that actually cares for its people. He and Ed reconnect, fall into bed, and both set about working through their respective traumas about being “useless” having lost their sight/alchemy. They go to Xing as an ambassadorial party to offer Amestris’s collaboration on Al and May’s Alkahestry experiments--and uncover a plot that might threaten both kingdoms.

- Age of Calamity continuity Mipha x Revali: 🦚🐟💘

The first time Revali noticed Mipha, it was in the heat of battle. She stole his mark, taking them down with a flurry of quick blows from her spear. Violence rained from her like water--and then she healed him on her way to her next battle. No questions, no conditions, just pure kindness. The usual need to measure himself against those around him was quiet in her wake. And Revali couldn’t understand it. But how to get to know more about her? A fish and bird may fall in love, but where would they live?

This fic could be a oneshot or novel length depending on how far down the hole I fall. I need it to cover time, but it could be done in linked vignettes or with actually covering events in detail. I may elect to do a oneshot just to get it done and out of my system faster. So much fic to write, so little time.

Expect trans!Revali, polyamorous Zoras, scary competent Mipha, songbird Revali, love confessions that are made up entirely of berating Link for not loving Mipha the way she wants him to, and breaking these characters a little outside of their assigned roles in BotW and Age of Calamity. Background Link x Zelda, and Urbosa x Zelda’s Mom.

- Epic desert romance about Urbosa and Zelda’s mom: 🏜🏝⚡

I just think Urbosa should kiss women and Zelda’s mom should get more development and maybe a name or something. Also, lightning imagery/metaphors/play.

It also went way over my head that Riju wasn’t Urbosa’s daughter the first time I played BotW, so now I want to write about the Gerudo queen who refused to produce an heir. The Gerudo are fascinating and have a very interesting cutlure, but I think it could be examined from a nonbinary perspective that rejected pregnancy and wanting to find a husband. Not in like a hateful way, but in a way that examines if that’s really right for everyone. There’s that shop in town that sells Voe armor, after all. Maybe finding a husband and having children isn’t something you have to do if you don’t want to. And Urbosa really doesn’t want to.

#age of calamity #Devil May Cry #RoyEd #Castlevania #Breath of the Wild #Hades Game #Sonic the Hedgehog #Lupin III #Persona 5

59 notes · View notes

astrablossom · 4 years

Note

Thank you for the male mc! Being masculine, the lack of male stuff for obey me is kind of sad. That said, do you have headcanons of the sinblings giving male mc a blowjob? Like are they teasing, and would they do it in public, etc. Thank you have a good day 💜

You are so right, that's why I'm trying to expand a bit more. Lucky for you I'm working on something with the brothers being underneath so stay tuned. Anyways, here is my best headcanons for the bros. And have a nice day too :)

Lucifer: We already know he is a tease, it's practically canon. He's more of a reciever but won't say no if you ask and butter him up. After a long day you cuddle up near him in bed, kissing his ear and ask gently in a soft tone. Hearing you beg will make him likely to say yes. Sleepy blowjobs from him is the best because he looks annoyed and his hair is disheveled but secretly enjoys your length in his mouth. Domestic Lucifer at your service.

"Do all humans have such a high sex drive or is it just you?"

He believes it's a honor to even see him on his knees for you and will take his time licking and sucking the cock thoroughly. If you're being punished he won't make you cum, no matter how much you beg. Make sure to say please and thank you afterwards. He has a status to keep up so he is less likely to do anything that would ruin Diavolo or his own reputation. However he did like that one where he sucked you off on his office table. You looked so handsome with your legs open.

Mammon: A gooey mess when you asked him to give you a bj. You try to calm him down, saying it's okay if he doesn't want to but that kinda irritates him.

"THE Mammon can give even a puny human a blowjob, don't worry?" Did he just say that out loud?

The first time it happened is when you get back a bit late from a study session. You flopped down on your bed exhausted when you feel hands tugging on your clothes. "Don't worry bout' it." If you look you'll see how shy he is and you stay silent watching him pull your pants and boxers down. One thing about Mammon's blowjobs is that it's super wet. Whenever he gets down he likes suckling the entire thing in one go, salivia always catching your hole. If he is feeling kinky he'll plant kisses on your "jingle balls" (he actually said that once) while slipping a finger in. If you praise or degrade him while pushing his head further down except a loud moan. Demon is not afraid of moaning. He has no gag reflex.

Generally speaking he is a bit spontaneous and will not hesitate to give you a blowjob if he catches you talking too long with a demon or if he is just horny. He sucked you off a few times in a empty classroom or if you helped him with his money making schemes. He wants to try it in Lucifer's chair next.

Leviathan: The otaku has seen enough anime to know what to do. Will actually summon the courage to make the first move but is nervous about how you'll react to his tongue. It happens during a make out session and you unbuckle yourself when you see him moving down. However your eyes pop out when you see his tongue becoming more fork like. The tips kinda shake like a snake does.

"T-This doesn't scare you?" He looks away embarrassed and you blink.

"Baby please suck me, I'm begging you." You watch his snake like tongue slither up the base of your cock, the wet muscle squeezing like no tomorrow. If feels so weird but so good, his salivia for some reason is super slimy. But it's good for friction. Levi likes when you urge him on, praising him for how good he is and how fast you'll cum. Because he's nervous he takes his time sucking you. Prefers when you cum on his face and will call you a normie if it isn't a bucket load. Will hold your cum in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing, he looks a bit dazed.

Considered using his tail but was too shy to ask. Not sure if this counts as public but maybe he'll suck your dick while you're live on his channel playing a game with the camera off?

Satan: The poetic demon has read his fair share of erotic books for the past millennia. But you always have to beg with him. He only gives you a blowjob on special occasions: birthday, holidays, or if he's feeling generous.

A nibbler at heart. Nibbles on the skin because he likes the feeling of your muscles thriving under his hold. He likes to take you down in one swoop and pull off slowly while pinching his lips, it's painful but somewhat erotic to you. Also like Lucifer and will tease until you're sobbing and begging his name. That's when he'll hit you with the double combo and have you spilling in no time.

"You're juices are thicker than sweet ambrosia." He once said, licking your cum off his cheek. He likes giving you a blowjob in the library as you try to read a book aloud, the stutters in your voice were too beautiful. Will do it in Lucifer's room or while Belphie is sleeping if you don't stop him.

Asmodeus: Do you need to ask? Sir Horny over here is a fan of exhibitionism. He was the one who introduced you to the gloryhole in the school bathroom.

"A quick fix if you need one! Or you could just ask me!" When you do comply it's either your greatest decision or biggest regret. He will make you stand with your shirt in between your mouth while sitting to suck you off. He starts off slow but will quickly pick up the pace before slowly down once more, chuckling when you whimper. When you least expect it he'll hit you with that double combo swirly and you grab his head tightly. He enjoys being face fucked and will swallow anything you give him.

Not a picky person but the area must be clean. The living room or his favorite stores in the fitting rooms are a go to.

Beelzebub: He once called your dick bite size and you stopped talking to him for a little bit. This might be odd to say but Beel got a big mouth. To inhale food and to suckle you like a popsicle. His tongue is hot and warm all over you and his mouth is heavenly. He has had a lot of experience with men and women in his past.

"You taste really good y'know? Now I'm a different kind of hungry." Likes when you wrap your legs around his neck as he runs his whole mouth along the side. He peppers your cock in kisses, giving you a very slow but heavy oragasm. Swallows everything and sucks the tip till you cry from overstimulation.

He isn't a fan of outside. He likes doing this in the privacy of his room.

Belphegor: Lazy bones gives the worst blowjobs when sleepy, falls asleep a lot and you have to get off in his mouth. All by yourself.

Prefers to suck you off when he can't sleep. Will crawl down to your crotch and gives your cock a nice long lick. He likes just giving you nice long licks for some reason, like a cat. It's rare when he gets seriously but if he does there is little to no spit. The clean up is too much. Tends to wake you up with his blowjobs.

"Let me warm your cock in my mouth." Often times will cockwarm your cock in his mouth but who are you to complain. He isn't keen on outdoor places but prefers semi-public places like a classroom, library, anywhere where he can sit. Will become serious if he sucks you off when Lucifer is nearby.

Bonus!

Diavolo: Absolutely loves tending to his little human. I am convinced this demon is huge so when he sucks it feels like your dick entered a hot ass cave.

He was known for a bit of party person back in his youth, often times engaging in harems so he has the experience. He does this thing where he curls his tongue just right above the tip before swiping away quickly that absolutely sends you everytime. His record for making you cum was two minutes.

"I'm sure you can do better than that. Don't disappoint your future king now."

He has your legs up over his broad shoulders as he takes you in, his tongue brushing occasionally against your hole. Each time you buck in his mouth it grooms his ego.

He won't do in public but he isn't afraid to let people know that you belong to him. Prepare for lots of ass pinches.

#obey me #shall we date obey me #shall we date? obey me #obey me fandom #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mammon #obey me smut #ao3 smut #obey me diavolo #obey me mc #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #astrablossom asks #obey me male mc

800 notes · View notes

snuggetfish · 3 years

Note

I love your thoughts on Majima so much! He’s such a fun and interesting character to analyze and I’d like to ask what your general headcanons of him are? Like, just about any headcanon that comes to mind

Aaah thanks so much anon, it makes me fuzzy inside to know people like reading these sometimes really rambly replies! 💙 Headcanon-wise, ohhh, I’ve got a good few, but below are the first ones that come to mind. I’ve split them up roughly by topic, hopefully they’re easier to read this way!

Outfit

It always seemed to me that Majima’s environmentalism was a bit at odds with his signature look. Leather pants, leather gloves, snakeskin jacket, that’s a hell of an animal cruelty combo right there... so I think they’d actually all be fake. Majima may be flashy, but he’s not a hypocrite and with how many clothes he ruins by getting into fights, I don’t think he’d want to continuously sink cash into the leather industry.

Though, that’s not to say his fashion would look or feel cheap! Whoever his tailor is, I bet they’re being paid well to source high quality, realistic looking leather and snake imitations.

Diet

While we’re on this topic, I’d like to think Majima had a phase where he tried going vegetarian, after reading up on the ecological effects of animal farming. But here, he finds he can’t be as principled as with clothing, because the beef bowl cravings get too strong sometimes and the boys are noticeably crankier without their usual family barbecues... So he’d give up on the idea eventually. He's not a saint, he’s gotta have some indulgences.

Love life

Other things yakuza are known to indulge in: the sex trade (or “water trade” in Japan I suppose). I mean, they run a good amount of these businesses, makes sense that they’d visit them too, right? But I think, for Majima, hostess clubs would hold too many bittersweet memories and, generally, he wouldn’t enjoy being buttered up. Simulated love and empty words for a price... a hostess won’t be nearly as sincere with him—an obviously loaded customer—as the Sunshine girls were with their manager, so why bother? If it’s just gonna be two clowns putting on a show for each other...

Frustration and distracting thoughts might push him to go to a soapland or brothel, but those visits are about as frequent as his one-night stands, which is to say: rare. His body has needs, but they mostly serve to remind him of the needs of his heart, which are so much harder to fill...

Pastimes

So how does Maijma spend his spare moments then? Batting cages, of course, but also watching TV in his apartment, playing zombie shooters or just about any game that can help pass the time. When he’s alone, I think a lot of his habits are carried over from his days in Sotenbori, whether he realizes it or not. Thus...

Smoking

He’s likely got an ashtray in every room, since his addiction manifests all the worse when he’s at home. He usually remembers to open the window first, but on particularly bad nights, he’d be no stranger to smoking in bed or on the bathroom floor.

I think he didn’t use to smoke much as a young adult (19-20), but after his days in the Hole, it’s a way to cope with trauma and mounting stress. The habit only really ramped up when 23-year-old Majima realized that the more cigarettes he burns through, the less hungry he feels and the more money he can save for Sagawa’s monthly payment.... Grooming

His apartment is sparsely furnished and looks barely lived in, probably because it is. You also won’t find him in lounge clothes too often, even the eye patch stays on almost 24/7. It’s so much a part of him now, that he occasionally forgets to take it off in the shower. But let me just say this: he’s no slob. Majima has had more than his fair share of living in squalor, while he was still in the Hole... People joke about him being greasy, but I really don’t think he could stand the feeling of being dirty. Though speaking of, I think he’d prefer showers over baths. Less idle time for the painful thoughts to creep in. The only way he’d start warming up to the idea of a nice soak every night is... if he maybe had a partner who’d gently wash his hair and back, to ease the day’s tension... or if there was a little munchkin all too eager to have him play sea monster to their fleet of rubber duckies. Would at least one of the duckies have a little eye patch scribbled on it in sharpie? Well, who’s to say... 😌

Just like his apartment, I think he would himself smell of cigarettes, but always mixed with something almost... citrus-y. Muted and a little bitter, like bergamot, from the cologne he wears on days where he needs to dress presentably. Though if you also happen to catch a note of vanilla on him... well, that’s likely a hint that Goromi’s been out on the town. (´~ ω •`)

Skills

Last but not least, a slightly unrelated headcanon: Majima’s surprisingly good with numbers and equations. Not because he’s received a great education (though he is definitely the kind of guy who succeeds in almost anything he applies himself to, it’s just that he rarely does) but because being in charge of The Grand’s bookkeeping, night after night for two years, has taught him skills that are not so easily forgotten. However, it’s not something he brags about, so the first few times it’ll definitely come as a shock to his subordinates. He’ll be given a balance sheet or a contract to sign and Nishida assumes his eye will just glaze over and he’ll throw the papers back at his face, but instead Majima spots a calculation error within a minute of looking at it. Then he gives Nishida an earful about paying more attention to these things... then he throws the papers back, yeah.

And because I can’t help myself on the Majidad headcanons: of course this means he’s on duty for helping his kid with their math homework.

Whew, this ended up as a big wall of text, sorry! Guess you can tell Majima occupies my thoughts a lot more than he probably should hah... It’s fun to share these though! Thank you so much for the ask! 💙💙💙

#majima goro #goro maijma #yakuza headcanons #anon asks #answered #you ask for Maji headcanons brain go brrrr

96 notes · View notes

kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

Text

Bakugou's Wedding Studio

Katsuki's

by KiriBakuHappiness

(AO3 link)

Bakugou Katsuki / Kirishima Eijirou Wedding Planner / Engaged AU Fluff/Humor/Light-Angst/Romance Rated T (for Katsuki’s colorful language) Word Count: 6315

Author's Note:// I really don't know where this story idea came from but I just had such an overwhelming urge to write it so now all of you are going to have to read it - enjoy!

Katsuki has never been to a wedding before.

The fuck would he waste his time going to one of those dumbass things for? To watch relatives who he didn't know and had never cared to meet before cry disgustingly and blow snot into rags in celebration of someone else in the family getting to have bland missionary sex for the rest of their pathetically monotonous lives?

Or did the joy come from listening to people whisper about the decoration choices and chuckle in disdain about family drama or was all the fun wrapped up in making sure someone's estranged uncle didn't get too drunk and try to piss on the bride's gown or -

Where the fuck was the fun in any of it?!

Fuck. Katsuki hated weddings - and he's never even fucking been to one before but that hardly matters because he gets the overall fucking gist of them just fine on his own. He's seen all the damn movies.

The weepy vows and the overly-edited wedding photos and the drunken hook ups in the coat closet or bathroom with someone who may or may not be a distant cousin or, fuck; it was all so very cliché and annoying.

Unfortunately, Katsuki's mother was a fucking wedding planner - so guess who knew way more about weddings than he'd ever planned to know?

You're a fucking genius. It's this guy.

Just shoot his damn brains out now. 'S not like he's gonna need them much after suffering through all of this shit.

"Katsuki," his mother swats at his arm and abruptly pulls him full force back into the wretched reality of this entirely undesirable situation. "Are you listening? This is important to me - I'm really counting on you for this one, kid!"

Katsuki barely holds back a groan. Barely.

He might be reaching 24, but his attitude still felt like that of an angsty teenager most days, and all of this unnecessary needling really wasn't helping with his high blood pressure that his doctor kept insisting that he had.

He shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair by the edge of the hospital bed and tries to pay attention - he does - because his mother got hit by a car not three hours ago, and while that was so insatiably fucking hilarious to think about on its own, the resulting chaos that had ensued after such a laughably out-of-bounds incident that had dragged his ass head-first into all of this was most certainly not.

"I could do this shit in my sleep if I had to. I was forced to go with you to meet-ups like this all the damn time, remember?" Katsuki grumbles bitterly as he proceeds to flip through the scarce few channels on the television screen hanging up in the corner of the room.

Mitsuki snatches the remote from him when he passes over the same dull history channel about sharks for the third time since he'd arrived with a bag full of hastily packed shit from the house after he had gotten the call from the hospital.

"Yeah, when you were seven." She turns the television off and tosses the remote out of his reach into the other vacant chair on the far side of the room. Katsuki scowls and watches it soar away, briefly mourning the loss of the only thing getting him through this conversation with his mental stability still in tact.

"How fucking hard can it be?" Katsuki continues to gripe as he slouches further down in his seat, throwing his feet up to rest his boots on the bed with his ankles crossed. "'You want this piece of shit flower, or this piece of shit flower? You want this dumb table set up, or this dumb table set up?' I think I can fucking handle it."

His mother sighs and runs a hand over her bruised face, but he can still see the smirk that she's so desperately trying to hide in her palm. She can't fool Katsuki - she might sell lovey-dovey bullshit day in and day out to poor saps who waste all of their hard earned life savings on some big dumb party that most of their guests who are invited to attend are too drunk to even remember the next morning anyway - but she's just as much of an asshole as Katsuki is.

Mitsuki was just significantly better at hiding it in front of her important valued business clients.

"Just... please be on your best behavior, alright? And wear something nice. A sweater, maybe? You do own nice clothes, don't you?" His mother goads as she finishes organizing the gigantic black binder open on the bed sheets in front of her before she slaps it shut with a satisfied grin that stretches the bandage on her cheek.

"Oh yeah," Katsuki snorts with a condescending roll of his eyes. "Want me to get my finest jewels out of the damn vault, too? Maybe hunt down an endangered cougar and wear its scent as fresh cologne?"

His mother's hand comes up to her face again, but her shoulders are shaking. "How did I ever raise such a charming gentleman?"

"Beats me, you're a fucking bitch," Katsuki counters easily as he lumbers up to his feet. He reaches for the binder but his mother is quicker and she snatches it up to hold it close to her chest.

She's giving him her most serious look now.

Ugh. That means they're officially done fucking around.

"I mean it, Katsuki. This client was a referral - I really need them to have a good experience," his mother repeats for what must be the seventy-billionth fucking time.

Katsuki melts back into his chair with a disgruntled whine that could have come from a five-year-old's temper tantrum. "The fuck can't you just reschedule this shit for if it's so damn important?"

"Because the couple needs to be married and on a flight in exactly two months. Do you know how fucking long it takes to plan a wedding, Katsuki?"

He does. "No."

His mother smacks the binder against the top of his head before she finally holds it out for him. "Don't screw this up, wise-ass."

How fucking encouraging.

Katsuki snatches the binder from her with another overly-dramatic roll of his eyes as he shoves himself up to his feet again and starts for the door. "Hope you get a bed sore, devil woman."

"Love you too, you little shit!"

His mother's office building is way too fucking fancy for Katsuki's taste. Expensive wooden flooring and tall ceilings and Rome-inspired pillars and some kind of old fucking statue of a half-naked woman right at the damn entrance with her stone breasts all hanging out.

Was this supposed to be a wedding planner's studio or some kind of fucking art museum? Katsuki can't even tell anymore.

He supposes that it has been a pretty long time since he's last been back here, and he can't ignore the fact that his mother's dumb business has come a long way from being the dinky little hole in the wall that it used to be.

Still, the statue feels like a bit of an over kill. Katsuki can't stop staring at it. Where the fuck were her arms? And why did her eyes look like that?

Were they... moving?

His body tilts dangerously far to one side as he eyes up at the woman's face with a squinted gaze. She was definitely tracking his movements - this statue was seriously fucking cursed or something. It probably came to fucking life at night, creepy ass piece of -

"Uh... am I interrupting something?"

Katsuki nearly staggers over his own two feet as he hurries to try and right himself before he whips around to spot the culprit who has so suddenly decided to sneak up on him.

"Hah?! Fucking hell, make some damn noise next time!" Katsuki reprimands with a harsh glare. He hates being fucking spooked like that.

The man in front of him grins a wide, toothy smile. "Sorry, man! I didn't mean to startle you! Uh, is this... the Bakugou's Wedding Studio -"

Oh shit. This is the guy that Katsuki is supposed to meet with today?

His sharp gaze takes in the plain jeans with the rip in the left knee and the dark V-neck combo that he's wearing; a pretty casual get up considering the dumbass shirt and tie that Katsuki's hag of a mother seemed to think that he desperately needed to wear for this. She was so full of shit sometimes.

Fuck, was this guy still talking?

"- so I hope that's okay and everything!"

Katsuki has no idea what he's going on about, but it doesn't matter. He waves a dismissive hand around in the air, anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Red. You ready to do this or what?"

The guy blinks in surprise at him and one of the hands he's had pushed down into the pockets of his jeans suddenly reaches up to touch at the stupid spikes of red hair styled on the top of his head before he laughs boisterously.

"Alright, a man of action - I like that! Let's do it!" Red cheers, thrusting a fist up in the air and beaming another ridiculously happy grin. What a fucking nut job.

Katsuki leads him around the creepy statue lady and across the wooden floors of the studio towards a set of black leather couches set up in the corner by the large bay windows overlooking the street below. He slaps the binder on the table and flops down onto the couch before he mindlessly flips it open to the first page to pull out all of the dumb introductory forms.

The faster they get through this shit, the quicker Katsuki can go home and take these uncomfortable clothes off - gotta keep his eyes on the prize.

Red plops down on the couch next to him, still smiling that mega-watt grin. Katsuki is used to seeing that stupid fucking look on his mother's more sappy clients' faces.

It's all about the fucking love, right?

Definitely not about all of the money.

"This place is really nice," Red compliments unnecessarily as his eyes sweep across the studio. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Katsuki snorts at that. And then he rehears the question in the back of his mind and he cackles again because holy shit - that's the funniest fucking thing anyone has ever asked him. "Hell no. Just filling in for my mom or whatever. 'S her place, not mine."

"Oh, are you... not a wedding planner then, or?"

Shit. Backtrack - fucking backtrack.

"Hah? 'Course I am! You think I come here and do this shit for fun or something?" Katsuki snarks back as nonchalantly as he can. He really needs to just get this over with.

"Where's your wife-to-be, anyway? Shouldn't she be here nitpicking all of this shit over with you?" Katsuki grumbles absentmindedly as he yanks out a pen and finally settles down to do quite possibly the most boring thing to have ever been invented.

"Nah man, I just told you! My ah... husband-to-be had something come up at work, so he couldn't make it in today," Red explains again anyway, entirely unperturbed with having to repeat himself. "It's just me!"

Gay? Huh. Katsuki wouldn't have ever guessed.

"Whatever, just make sure he doesn't call and complain if he doesn't like what you pick out," Katsuki warns as he flips the pages of the binder to the first horrible section of a long list of equally horrible things; the venues.

"Don't worry about it, dude!" Red reassures with a confident thumb thrust into his puffed out chest. "I've got a great sense of style!"

So.

That was a fucking lie.

Red's got something - but it ain't style. A brain tumor, maybe.

"You want to do what?" Katsuki can't help but ask incredulously. His pen stalls in his casual note-taking as he raises an eyebrow and lifts his cheek off his clenched fist to better stare at the other man so that he knows just how ridiculous his dumb request sounds.

"You don't think that'd be awesome?!" Red expels with just as much disbelief, sitting up now with his hands thrown out wide in the air as though to adamantly argue his point. "First the ceremony, then the reception - or whichever one comes first, I guess I already forgot - but then, boom! Paintball tournament! It's fool proof, man!"

They've been at this for two hours now and Katsuki thinks there must be something seriously wrong with this guy. He's kind of starting to think that he isn't even really engaged. There's just no fucking way. He's literally a child with adult spending money.

"My mom ain't gonna plan a fucking paintball tournament for your wedding, I'll tell you that right now," Katsuki snorts with a further bewildered shake of his head at the very idea of it as he resettles his cheek against his fist again.

Red beams a mischievous sort of grin as he casually leans over to elbow Katsuki in the bicep. "Buuut your mom's not my wedding planner, you are! Right? C'mon, I can totally tell that you're way cooler than she is!"

Huh. Red's got some kind of a point there. Maybe not a complete one, or a valid one, but it's the start of something intriguing for sure.

Katsuki flicks his pen around in his fingers as he entertains this woefully horrible temptation to fuck with this painfully typical wedding design that Red's husband-to-be seems to be so dead set on having. Katsuki can't help but agree with the idiotic manchild; maybe that's what weddings need more of these days in order to be less shitty.

Some kind of entirely chaotic activity that causes real physical harm.

Besides, his mother did tell him that he was meant to do whatever it was that the customer wanted - whatever they ask for, just tell them you can do it and then figure it out from there! - and this overly enthusiastic redhead sitting on the other end of this leather couch from him wants a fucking paintball tournament at his wedding.

This temporary gig might be a lot more interesting than Katsuki originally gave it credit for.

"Alright, Red... you've piqued my interest," Katsuki concedes cautiously as he pens in a little added note at the bottom of the seventeenth modified color scheme they had finally settled on. "You want a paintball tournament, I'll give you a fucking paintball tournament."

"Woah, really?!" Red lights up like a fucking Christmas tree at that. "Oh man, you must be the best wedding planner ever!"

Katsuki tries not to look too smug. What a horrible fucking compliment, anyway. But still - Red's got the right idea. Katsuki was the fucking best.

He might not mind working with this idiot for the remainder of this project, after all.

"What other kind of crazy junk you want?"

"Oh, dude! I've got lots of ideas!"

A wedding generally takes anywhere from 200-500 hours to fully plan and execute. Katsuki's currently got about 10 1/2 logged with Red over the course of their past few meetings together, which only left a bare minimum of around 189.5 more hours to go.

Still, it wasn't really as painstaking or horribly boring as Katsuki had been expecting it to be. Despite the moron's horrendous sense of style and apparent fucking colorblindness, he did have a shit ton of incredibly dumb wedding event ideas to spout off endlessly about, and Katsuki was almost having trouble narrowing down which horribly inappropriate ones to choose to include in the draft proposal from their long ass list.

He couldn't believe how much he found that he really didn't mind walking into his mother's wedding studio in preparation for another long session with the weirdest client he's ever had the misfortune of meeting. This wedding was gonna be fucking awesome if Katsuki had anything to do with it.

His unusually optimistic attitude about this unfavorable situation changed rather abruptly when Red finally walked through the door a half an hour later, though. He wasn't alone this time.

Red's Fiancé was... not what Katsuki expected.

Not that Katsuki had really been expecting much of anything. To be honest, he'd almost forgotten that the dumbass even had one. But of course, it takes two to fucking tango, and here the lovebirds are now sitting on the opposite couch together from the one Katsuki had chosen.

"I read over the draft proposal last night and - " Red's Fiancé gives Red some kind of half-sympathetic/half-grimaced look. " - while I appreciate the eccentricity, I really don't think my family wants us to have a Slip N' Slide at our wedding."

Your family is fucking lame then, Middle Part. Katsuki crosses out the Slip N' Slide note in his binder with a disapproving scowl.

Red's face burns with a bright flush of color as he reaches a sheepish hand up to rub at the back of his head. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I went a little overboard with it. It was just really fun planning everything out with - "

Red blinks for a moment as his face smooths out before he glances in Katsuki's direction for what might have been the very first time since they had arrived. "Oh, I guess I've never really gotten your name before!"

Katsuki shifts in his seat and doesn't look up. "Katsuki."

"Right, Katsuki! It was really fun planning with him these past few sessions; he's gotta be the best one in the city or something - I was getting so excited for the wedding!"

Tch. Katsuki was sorta getting excited to see all the tom-fuckery come together, too. But whatever.

"I'm sure it'll be just as exciting," Middle Part tries to satiate like a parent calming down an obnoxious child with a condescending pat on Red's knee. The tone grates on Katsuki's nerves for reasons he can't even begin to come up with.

Middle Part turns back to Katsuki, then. "But in a more... traditional sense, if you know what I mean."

Katsuki's eyes narrow down at the binder in his lap, but he knows he's got a job to fucking do - his mother would have a damn heart attack or something if he didn't do what he was supposed to be doing right now - so he simply tears out the draft proposal form, crumples it up into a little ball, and tosses it carelessly over his head to land somewhere on the wooden floor behind his couch.

Back to boring old fucking business.

"Oh, I'd also like to go over the color scheme one more time? I'm more of a pastel person and the reds are all very... bright."

Katsuki can't stop thinking about it.

He hates that he can't stop thinking about it, but that doesn't make it any less true that he can't stop thinking about it.

Katsuki didn't know up-from-down about Red - fuck, he hadn't even been paying close enough attention to have ever caught the guy's real name - but something about their session yesterday with Middle Part didn't sit right with him.

It was all-in-all a very typical meeting. His mother would have been fucking ecstatic with the outcome. They changed the color scheme to something more pastel spring-timey and replaced the red Hibiscus flowers with some boring ass Tulips and they even had to go back and pick a different venue cause Middle Part had some kind of damn phobia of the fucking water or some shit and truly seemed to believe that the scenic lake-side cabin property that Red had chosen out on the outskirts of the city would be too much of a distraction for him to focus on The Big Day.

Pretty much everything that they had planned out together in their earlier sessions had to be changed. And throughout the entire fucking process, Red didn't say another damn word the whole time.

Not to give his opinion. Not to express any kind of interest or growing excitement. Not even to protest. He merely sat there with that plastered on goofy grin, with Middle Part's hand wrapped tight on his knee, and didn't say a single damn thing.

Katsuki can't stop fucking thinking about it. When he'd first met Red, he was certain that guy's COD was going to be suffocation from forgetting how to take a pause inbetween his incessant ramblings long enough to remember to breathe.

It wasn't even any of Katsuki's damn business. He knew that. And he didn't fucking care about the relationship dynamic of a newly-engaged couple that he didn't know and hadn't even met for more than a few hours. It just felt like such a big damn fucking waste of time because obviously this was all going to end in some kind of a divorce.

Middle Part was stiff and proper and had a huge stick up his ass, and Red was just so loud and expressive and wanted a fucking rock-climbing wall at his damn wedding. It was like watching some suburban soccer mom tame a real-life Rolling Stones Rockstar or some shit.

How did those two fuckers even meet in the first place? Fall in love? Get engaged? It didn't make any sense to Katsuki, and it was really starting to piss him off.

During their next session together a few days later (sans Middle Part again, who just had to run off and attend some hoity-toity business garden party or something else that happened to be more important than planning his damn wedding), Katsuki literally couldn't stop himself from asking, "You really want a boring ass wedding like this?"

Red stops mid-babble with his glass of champagne poised at his lips that Mitsuki had vehemently demanded that Katsuki supply for this next meeting - because how could he have ever forgotten to do such an important part of this overall incredibly lame process?

"Oh, I mean... it's not really supposed to be an actual party. It's more of a serious thing, you know?" Red tries pathetically to explain the purpose of a wedding to a(n unlicensed) wedding planner, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I guess I got a little carried away with it all before. Sorry if I wasted your time or anything, I told you I'm no good at planning this kind of stuff..."

There it is again. That incessant needling in Katsuki's gut that he'd noticed also happened when Middle Part had placed that hand on Red's knee and didn't let go of it for the entire time that they were sitting together on that damn couch.

Katsuki purses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from saying anything asshole-ish, because he's sure that one of the rules to being The Best Wedding Planner Ever was not to insult the Fiancé.

"That's why I really need your help here, man!" Red continues on, unbothered by or just too plain stupid to recognize Katsuki's silence on the topic. "You're so talented; I just know you'll make it the best day ever!"

It slips out before Katsuki can even think about stopping it. "Shouldn't that be your new husband's job or something?"

Red blinks over at him in surprise at such a statement, and Katsuki blinks down at the binder in his lap because - fuck - even he knows that was way totally out of line.

"Let's just fucking finish picking out the - "

It's the movement that he spots out of his peripherals as Red leans forward to place his glass of champagne on the table that causes Katsuki to stiffen and finally snap his eyes up from where they'd been glued to the binder.

Shit, Red doesn't look good. His brows are furrowed and there's an uncharacteristically obvious frown on his lips as he watches the bubbles in the champagne glass float up to the top. Katsuki waits with held breath for him to do something more, his heart pounding in his chest, and eventually Red looks at him again and offers him an entirely forced apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I'm just... I'm not really feeling that great today. I think I'm gonna have to cut this session short, if that's okay."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Katsuki's big ass mouth has gone and done it again. He doesn't even have enough time to try and salvage anything or react to such a sudden departure before Red is leaping up from the couch and scurrying across the studio towards the front doors.

Katsuki watches him leave with his pen hanging limp in his hand and his mouth slightly parted.

His mother was totally going to fucking ream him for fucking this one up.

"You said what?!"

Katsuki tosses an exasperated hand up in the air and glares harder from where he's standing at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom. He hasn't even taken his denim jacket off yet. "You didn't have to fucking meet this guy, alright?! He was pretentious and boring and - "

Mitsuki snorts with an angry roll of her eyes. "Newsflash, you fucking psychopath - you don't have to like the clients that you work for, you just have to do your damn job! He's not your Fiancé, this isn't your wedding!"

"I fucking know that! He just really fucking pissed me the fuck off!" Katsuki yells back, red-faced and frantic as he forces fingers to tangle through his explosive hair.

"You have to fix this, Katsuki - "

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Why's it gotta be my responsibility to convince this guy to marry that total fucking d-bag? It's gonna end in a divorce, anyway!"

"That's not even any of your fucking concern, moron! Let the divorce attorney deal with all of that crap!"

"It's not fair for Red!" Katsuki continues to argue adamantly none-the-less, slapping the back of his hand into the palm of the other for emphasis.

Mitsuki blinks over at him now, eyebrows scrunching in the center of her face and - shit, he doesn't like that look she's giving him at all. "Who the fuck is Red?"

"T-the fucking guy! The one I've been dealing with this whole damn time, the - "

"The guy who wanted to have a dunk-tank at his wedding?!" Mitsuki asks incredulously. "If you ask me, that's not fair to anyone getting married."

Katsuki glowers over at her as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and curls them into tight fists to try and pull himself together.

"Least it would've been fucking entertaining to watch..." he grumbles bitterly, but fuck, he knows the old hag has a damn point.

Mitsuki's looking at him especially closely now and it's making Katsuki squirm under her laser-focused scrutiny. He clenches his jaw to combat the uncomfortable bout of feelings rumbling in his stomach and flings his hands (still secure in his pockets) out once more in a baiting sort of gesture.

"Fucking what?" Katsuki spits defensively.

"Oh... my god," Mitsuki leans back into the pillows on her king-sized bed like she's just been given the most horrible news. "Don't tell me you fell in love with a fucking client, Katsuki."

Katsuki's entire face scrunches up unpleasantly at that accusation like he's just swallowed an entire lemon. "The fuck?! Are you outta your goddamn mind!?"

"Are you?! Katsuki, he's engaged!" She whips one of her purple satin pillows at him. "You're supposed to be planning his wedding!"

Katsuki's hands are too tangled up in his pockets to prevent the assault and the pillow smacks stupidly against his chest and tumbles to the floor at his socked feet. "That's what I was trying to fucking do!"

"Really? Cause from what your dumbass just told me, it sounds a lot more like you've taken some kind of damn interest in this fucking guy and want to ruin his marriage before it's even started!"

Katsuki blinks at her because he doesn't even know what to fucking say in response to that. It's so totally outlandish and stupid. He's not fucking in love with Red - he doesn't even know that asshole! They've been in the same room together for approximately 25 hours - 4 1/2 of which Red hadn't even spoken a single damn word for!

Mitsuki heaves a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. It's like she can't even fucking look at him right now. "Just go, Katsuki. I should've never fucking asked you to do this for me in the first place."

Fuck.

Katsuki shifts his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. He knows he's an asshole, and he knows his mother's a batty fucking bitch, but that's why it always makes his stomach twist so uncomfortably whenever she looks at him like that - or rather, whenever she doesn't look at him like that.

Assholes needed to stick together, damnit!

"Mom, I'm fucking sorry or whatever, I just - "

"I know. Now leave. There's leftover soup in the fridge. Grab some when you go." Mitsuki picks up the magazine she had been perusing through before he'd so brutishly trampled his way into her room and she starts reading it again like he wasn't still standing there staring at her, and that was just the end of that.

Katsuki had fucked it all up. Someone's marriage, his mother's new client, her expectations of him - all of it. Fucked it right up from the ground up.

He clenches his jaw again and exhales a hard, agitated breath through his flaring nostrils before he snatches up the pillow on the floor and chucks it onto the bed as he stomps over to the door and finally leaves.

Katsuki has only ever bought flowers twice before.

Once when he got suspended from school for getting into a fight, and once when he totaled his piece of shit car trying to out race some idiot who had egged him on at a red light. Both times his mother had received them with the very same reactions - an incredulous stare, a long thoughtful pause, a heavy reluctant sigh, and forgiveness.

Lilacs were her favorites - and Katsuki only fucking knew that cause his old man used to drill it incessantly into his damn head all while growing up before that asshole had to go and die of brain cancer. ‘Whenever your mother is angry with me, I always buy her Lilacs. They soften her right up!’

That was the only reason why Katsuki was clutching onto such an embarrassing collection of recently purchased Lilacs as he pushed his way through the door of the Bakugou’s Wedding Studio a few weeks later.

He gave his mother time to cool off, and he went and got the damn flowers, and now he just needed to find the batty bitch.

There were quite a few people here today milling about on the furniture and perusing through the catalogues - some guy sitting next to his soon-to-be-wife was ogling the damn statue like he’d never fucking seen boobies before - and honestly, Katsuki would have turned around and walked right back into the street if he hadn’t spotted his mother’s head bobbing by somewhere in the background of all the fucking chaos.

Alright Katsuki, it’s fucking show time.

He regrips the Lilacs in his sweaty fingers as he maneuvers through a crowd of bridesmaids who are all screeching about something or another at a decibel that only fucking dogs can hear, before he finds himself suddenly face-to-face with his mother’s urgently frantic energy.

They both stop at the same time and stare at each other for a moment. Mitsuki breaks the silence with a click of her tongue again the roof of her mouth and a sharp turn of her gaze onto anything else in the room that isn’t him.

“I’m kind of busy right now - “ She tries to breeze past him but Katsuki just steps in her way and prevents her from leaving.

“Here.” He thrusts the Lilacs up into the space between them. His jaw tightens and he tries not to think about how fucking ridiculous he must look right now.

His mother’s list of reactions is consistent, at least; an incredulous stare that drifts down to eye at the Lilac bundle, a softening of her features as she takes in all of the different little purple petals - she’s probably thinking about dad, just like Katsuki does every time he has to wander into that damn flower shop on the other side of the city to purchase these stupid shits - and then... a heavy sigh.

She reaches out and takes them from him, and his hands dive back into his pockets purely on instinct and flustered nerves. Mitsuki looks up from the Lilacs and catches eyes with him again.

“They didn’t go through with it,” Mitsuki informs him. As if he even fucking cares.

“Hm.” He grunts back in some kind of forced response.

Mitsuki sighs again, softer this time, and runs the pad of her finger along the lush flowers. “Well... I’m sure business will be fine without them. I really wasn’t expecting such a rush like this today, so - “

“Uh... hello.” A voice interrupts from somewhere outside of their private family bubble.

Katsuki and Mitsuki both whip around and - holy motherfucking shit - it’s Red.

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a plaid shirt today, and his obnoxious spikes are loose and under the protection of a bandana. He grins sheepishly at the pair of them, his cheeks are already dusting with flushed color. “A-again, I guess. I just wanted to come by and apologize for wasting so much of your family’s time with... everything. I really hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Wait, you’re Red?” Mitsuki chimes in before Katsuki can even rub two brain cells together enough to spark any kind of a thought.

“Huh?” Red blinks at her in confusion before suddenly he’s laughing so loudly that people’s heads are starting to turn in their direction. “Oh! Haha, yeah I am! You can call me Eijirou, if that’s easier for you. Red works fine too, though, I guess!”

Eijirou.

“Anyway,” Red clears his throat, and he looks uncertain as he shuffles his weight around restlessly. “I know it was a bit of a shit show, but I really want to make up for it! I know some people who are recently engaged and I recommended your studio to them! Katsuki was so great with everything, and my friend Denki really wants to do something with zip-lining for his wedding!”

“Zip-lining?! Look kid, I appreciate the business, really, but - “

Katsuki elbows her hard in the ribs with a sideways glare sharp enough to cut glass. His mother eyes him back and they stare at each other for a long time, having one of their infamous telepathic arguments, before Mitsuki throws her hands in the air in added exasperation.

“Zip-lining, touch-tank, hell, I’ll order some fucking panda bears from the local zoo if they want it,” she declares to the heavens above.

Before Katsuki has the chance to snap at her, one of the dog-whistle bridesmaids is summoning her over from the other side of the room, and his mother beelines it towards them in an obvious attempt to escape. Katsuki watches her leave with a scowl.

“I, uh,” Red clears his throat again, and it causes Katsuki to snap his gaze back onto him once more. “I actually stopped by earlier this week but you weren’t here. I was kind of hoping to catch you, I... wanted to thank you.”

Katsuki blinks at him in disbelief. “Hah?! For fucking what? Ruining your goddamn wedding?”

“Ruin it?” Red’s head shoots up from where he’d been intently watching the tips of his sneakers. “Dude, are you for real? You didn’t ruin anything, you saved it! You saved me! I was always taught growing up that a wedding had to be perfect, and beautiful, and professionally photographed. And I was always told how stressful it all was and I was really nervous to come here and try to figure it all out - but when I was planning my wedding with you, it was... fun! And exciting! I couldn’t wait for it to arrive so I could watch all of my friends and family having the best time together on the most important day of my life!”

Katsuki can really only think to blink at him again, because truly, there must be something wrong with this fucking idiot. Nobody in the history of ever has probably been this excited for a botched wedding.

“Anyway,” Red shifts again, grinning that sheepish smile of his that squints his eyes and makes the flush on his face that much more prominent. “I know I was like... just engaged a few weeks ago or whatever but... do you want to maybe go play paintball with me sometime?”

Holy shit. Red was fucking asking him out on a date. Is that what was fucking happening right now?

There must be something wrong with Katsuki, too, because - “Sure, why the fuck not?”

Red is beaming again, and Katsuki’s heart is racing in his chest like some kind of dumb prepubescent child, and Katsuki’s never been to a fucking wedding before, but if he can manage not to fucking screw this up just like everything else, then he already knows that his and Eijirou’s wedding is going to be the best fucking one in history.

He’s already planning on it.

Author’s Note:// AHBXHBAXA - Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this dumb little short story! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated but never expected! <3

55 notes · View notes

mandareeboo · 3 years

Text

Unfinished Work #41: “Kid Cosmic and the Curse of the Mom Friend!”

Title: Kid Cosmic and the Curse of the Mom Friend!

Summary: So... yeah! I actually started writing this as retaliation for Kid Cosmic not having an ao3 page yet. But then I did some drabbles, and I liked them a lot more, so I posted those and hucked this one into the bin. I still wish I coulda finished the Rosa drabble, but I couldn’t find an ending I liked.

———————————————————————————————————

The cold metal of Kid's trailer wasn't exactly the softest thing Jo's been slammed against, but it wasn't her top ten worst, either, so she'll take it. Close behind was Kid, landing on her spindly lap. She immediately hooked her arms around his chest, recognizing the flicker of green that meant he was about to try and punch the Demon Death Dog.

Again.

Because that worked so well last time.

"C'mon, Jo!" he urged, straining. The Demon Death Dog's sharp jowls snapped just out of reach of his hands. "We can take 'em!"

Jo drew a purple circle around the dirt around them. "Hmm, I think not."

"Awww."

They went tumbling down into the portal, which flipped them around and upside into the trailer itself. Chuck rolled his eyes as they appeared. "Flabdrassit. I was hoping that mutt had killed you."

Kid put his face close to Chuck's, floating unsteadily. "Ha! It'll take more than some big dog to take us out! Right, Jo?"

"Grab some rope, Kid," Jo replied. "We're gonna leash this thing."

"Can't we fight it?" Kid pleaded, watching as she dug through his crates. "We've been heroes for almost three days now! We're more than ready to lay the smack down!"

"Another time. I don't want Fido getting any closer to town."

Kid blew a raspberry. "Heroes don't take their enemies out on walkies. Heroes crush their foes and make great quips about it!"

"These are all terrible," Chuck said, but turned the page on the comic book he was reading, so Jo didn't think he had much right to complain.

"I know you wanna do cool stuff, Kid. I get it. But sometimes being a hero means doing stuff that's not much fun." Jo tested the strength on length of chain and hummed. "Scratch that, let's use this. It can probably bite through rope."

The boy studied the chain a moment, as if half-hoping an ancient prophecy would be drilled into the metal. "But... we'll get to do cool stuff eventually, right? It's not gonna be walkies and running forever, is it?"

"Of course it will," Chuck said. "You're all terrible at this."

Jo sent him a glare that Chuck stuck his tongue out at her. Or maybe it was just flicking? She didn't know how that all worked. "Absolutely, Kid. This is just the prologue stuff. Once we figure out the weakness on these guys, we'll take them out with all kinds of corny puns and cool combo moves."

His eyes sparkled. "Promise?"

"I promise," she said, and hefted the chain over her shoulder. "C'mon. We don't want to have to patch another hole in the base because it chewed through, do we?"

———————————————————————————————————

Jo hardly noticed when Ramona and Carlos entered Mo's Oasis. It happened every morning, every time, and it was always the same seats. She set their usual mugs with their usual coffee orders down and turned around to call out an order to Fry and Hamburg.

"Jo!" said a big voice, followed by tiny footsteps. "Jo Jo Jo Jo Jo." She barely had the time to stiffen herself before Rosa almost bowled her off her feet, sniffling.

"Whoa!" She placed the coffee jug on the counter and scooped Rosa up. The little girl didn't look happy. Her eyes were red from tears, and her sniffles were being aided by little fists punching the snot away with great force. "Rosa?"

"I'm sorry to take you from your work," Ramona said, fiddling with her napkin. "We weren't planning on dropping by today, but Rosa insisted."

Carlos leaned in to whisper. "She is grounded."

"Ooooh," Jo shifted Rosa onto her other hip. "What happened, Rosa?"

She sniffed and threw her fists against her sides. "Rosa squish aliens!"

"She broke her toys," Carlos translated.

"No," Rosa replied, beating her fist lightly against Jo's shoulder. "Rosa squish aliens!"

Jo looked at the toddler, then Flo. "Mom, you mind if I take five?"

Thankfully, Flo is a fairly understanding mom, even if she makes Jo use her break for it. Jo carried the toddler out onto the back step and set her on her knee. "It's just us, Rosa," she reassured her. "You squished aliens?"

Rosa nodded, frowning. "Mama and Daddy bought new toys. Alien toys! Rosa play Nina Gigantica." She crossed her arms and pouted. "Got grounded."

Jo felt a twinge of shame. It really wasn't Rosa's fault; she knew aliens meant smushing, and even fake ones were bound to rile her up. But it wasn't as if her parents knew that- to them, she had suddenly melted down and trashed what may have well been some expensive stuff. "Aw, I'm sorry, honey. Mr. and Mrs. Flores don't know the Nina Gigantica game. They got confused."

"¿Era una chica mala?" Rosa asked.

"No, Rosa. You weren't a bad girl. You just played your favorite game." Jo gave her a gentle squeeze. "I'll tell Mr. and Mrs. Flores about our squishing game, okay?"

But Rosa shook her head. "Then Jo gets in trouble. Jo is a good girl."

#Unfinished Work #Kid Cosmic #Jo #The Kid #Stuck Chuck #Rosa Flores #Ramona Flores #Carlos Flores

69 notes · View notes

popatochisssp · 4 years

Note

can we get an update on the body insecurities with a human s/o for the new boys, if you're up for it?

This one? You bet!

Ash (Undergloom Sans): There’s nothing about his body that he’s particularly self-conscious of, actually. ...But there’s also nothing about his body that he’s particularly proud of. It’s...fine, it does all the things a body is supposed to do, more or less, but it’s just...there. Not bad, but not good either. He’s very much the type of person who’s mentally drawn a line between himself and his body, thinking of them as separate things, and the qualities of the latter have nothing to do with the former. He can say honestly that there’s nothing he hates about his body, but the fact that there’s nothing he especially likes about it either is probably not ideal. He’d almost certainly benefit from his s/o helping him learn a little self-love to nudge that pointed neutrality into something positive, and to give him at least one or two things he could actively like about the bones that carry him around from place to place.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Much as he knows it’s a silly thing to worry about, he tends to fret about falling short of human standards of masculinity, at least as they’re broadly, popularly defined. All the things that men are ‘supposed to be’--big, strong, athletic, tough, et cetera--are things that he...isn’t. He’s on the taller side so he’s got that going for him, but he’s not all that strong, physically, and his hobbies are...pretty domestic. He loves cooking and cleaning, books and scented candles, nature and knowledge! And of course, he knows all about the concept of toxic masculinity and that striving to be anything at all but what he is would only harm him, but with a human s/o, who was born in and brought up around those ideas and stereotypes, he sometimes wonders if that...matters to them??? If he’s...maybe not being all the man they want or need him to be??? A frank conversation about all of that would do wonders to put at least most of those fears to rest, but it’s definitely a topic for his s/o to be a little tactful and sensitive about it!

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Most of the physical consequences of Everything that happened Underground don’t make him feel self-conscious at all. His size, the hole in his head, the pins in his jaw, they all make him look cool and scary as hell, and he almost looks at them all as a point of pride that he survived everything thrown his way. Even only being able to manifest one eye-light is really not that big a deal to him and doesn’t really register as anything to dwell on. But... there is one thing... He really doesn’t like the cracks in his vertebrae. He thinks they’re ugly and even after all this time, they still look fresh and raw and feeling eyes on them, or catching a glimpse of them himself in the mirror makes him feel entirely too exposed. Human docs couldn’t figure out a permanent way to fill them in without restricting his range of motion or further agitating his magic, and he quickly got to the point where he couldn’t take all the poking and prodding around his neck trying to figure something out and just wanted to get on with life. There are a lot of turtlenecks in his wardrobe and any attention paid to that particular spot by his s/o is best kept short and sweet.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): You’d think it would be his scars still, or even his missing leg. But it’s neither. It’s not something he’d ever express in a million years, but his biggest insecurity is that he... kind of hates the way he looks in clothes. Not all clothes--he has a few expensive, tailored suits he’s very fond of, however rarely he gets the occasion to wear them these days--but most everything else... He doesn’t have a problem with his body as much as he has a problem with the way clothes that weren’t designed with his proportions in mind make his body look, and on the surface, among humans, that’s just about all of them. Half the shirts he tries on look like ill-fitting crop-tops and even the longest pants end up being capris when he tries to buy off the rack and it’s...frustrating that he can’t just buy something and look good in it right away. Because of that, he has a relatively small closet and tends to wear things that cover him up as much as possible, in dark colors (always black if possible), finding that it accentuates his height and slimness and blends his long limbs and torso into himself to look less odd. He’d probably be happier if he just bought everything he liked and then had it tailored to him, so he could branch out more into some of the types of things he used to wear, but that much tailoring would be expensive and for something he looks on as a vanity... He’s resistant, feeling like there’s just more important things to save and use the money for, like food, medical expenses, actual necessities... A little (a lot) of persuasion from a s/o to treat himself to more than just a mere handful of outfits that he likes and that fit correctly might be helpful in getting him to indulge.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Pretty obvious, he’s most self-conscious about the fact that sometimes he’s not altogether solid. Humans especially don’t seem to think too highly of things that are slimy, goopy, and drippy and caught at the wrong time, he’s all of the above. He doesn’t like the thought of anyone, but especially his s/o being grossed out by him, thinking he’s disgusting or creepy or downright disturbing because he couldn’t keep enough of a handle on his emotions to stay solid and normal. He doesn’t particularly love his eye-lights either, formerly just blue but now ringed with bright, burning red. The color combo can be...intense... and though he isn’t aware of it, he’s definitely been a bit conditioned lately into not making as much direct eye-contact with people as he used to, subconsciously noticing the better, more relaxed response he gets when he looks down or slightly to the side instead. But if we’re talking post-DT integration, when his form is stable and his eye-lights are pink......... he’s not insecure about a damn thing--he worked hard to get his body back and he loves and appreciates every inch of it.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): He tends to expend more energy worrying and being insecure about his personality than anything physical, quite frankly, but if there were something physical...well, even more obvious than his brother, he’s missing a couple limbs and it’s just a bit too fresh for him to be totally comfortable with it yet. There’s a lot he misses and a lot he’s still getting used to doing differently and a lot of mental and emotional baggage from the circumstances that led to him not having legs and he hasn’t really dealt with any of it. As a result, he tends to be self-conscious about anything he can’t do the way he used to before, or any time being in a wheelchair turns something that would be routine for anyone else into an Ordeal... It gets better the more he heals and copes with what happened, and especially when he acknowledges that he does want to try prostheses, even if it means committing to all the time, effort, (metaphorical) blood, (not metaphorical) sweat, and tears that’ll take, but until then... yeah, it’s his lack of legs and wondering if his s/o wouldn’t be happier or at least find it easier to be with a guy who just had two legs and didn’t need to see a prosthetist to get them.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Unapologetic about himself--his scars, his blunt(er) claws, his blindness--but with a human s/o especially, there is one thing he’s at least a little hesitant about. It’s the hole in his face, jagged and dark and unsightly...he assumes. It’s not like he’s ever seen it for himself, but he’s certainly felt a change in atmosphere in the past whenever its been exposed and he can only assume it’s disturbing to look at. When disturbing people is not his end-goal, he tries to keep the hole (mostly) covered with a pair of blind-glasses, and that will definitely be the case with his s/o, too... at least until he can suss out their unique reaction to his injury. If it doesn’t bother them, he’s happy to do away with the glasses in private, but the last thing he wants is to make his datemate uncomfortable and if the sight of his wholly uncovered face has that effect... Perhaps it’s for the best to keep them on, then...

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s really conscious of his exaggerated startled response at what feels like every little thing. It isn’t, and it’s wholly understandable and maybe even expected for what he went through Underground (especially those last few weeks), but it frustrates him a lot, especially when he gets a s/o. There’s someone he likes, someone he wants to get to know better and to be close to, and they’re right there, but all they have to do is move too fast or do something he wasn’t ready for and his automatic reaction is to flinch or reel back like they were about to...attack him or something! It’s absolutely a case of his mind knowing one thing and his body knowing another and he hasn’t yet figured out how to make the two of them share notes and realize that one of them might have some more up-to-date information than the other. There’ll be lots of nervous apologizing over it until he gets past thinking that they’re probably one disproportionate flinch from deciding he’s a little too high maintenance to make things work.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): If he could change anything about himself, it would be his hands--or at least, just the holes in the middle of them. Looking through his palms is a very visceral, inescapable reminder that he used to be...or was part of??? somebody else, and that attachment to an identity he no longer owns nor wants makes him a little uncomfortable. He wants to forget all about that stuff and what little he does remember of That Time and just be who he is now without having to think about the past. Still, it’s... always right there, whenever he looks down at his own hands, and some days that’s harder to deal with than others. He knows the circular holes in his palms are probably really cool and interesting to his human s/o, but at the same time, he kind of hopes they don’t pay overly much attention to that part of them. He’s trying to just let his hands be... his hands, and to not attach a whole lot of weird baggage to them. And on days when that doesn’t quite pan out, he’s got all kinds of pockets and gloves and busywork to keep them out of sight, out of mind.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): He tends to spend more time in front of the mirror, tracing the asymmetrical cracks in his skull, than he would ever care to admit. He’s not sure why he dwells on them as much as he does, his brother has them too and doesn’t seem to care about his, but... He doesn’t know what they are, or why they’re there...or how he got them and when...or if they were always there and he...they??? had just been born with them. Maybe he frets and grumbles about them because of what they represent--how much of his...their past was lost when they, as separate beings, came to be, even in spite of sharing what they do know and remember. The life and times of W.D. Gaster are a mystery that can never be completely solved, and that loss bugs him. The cracks make him especially insecure because anyone can see them, right there on his face, and ask what they are or where they came from, and he’ll have no answer, just like he wouldn’t have one for a hundred other completely normal and reasonable questions someone could ask him about his life Before. He definitely dreads and overthinks how to answer those questions from a s/o, in a way that doesn’t either make them think he’s lying to avoid being honest with them or freak them out with too much of a very crazy and unbelievable story too soon. It’s a hard hypothetical balance to strike, and maybe if he didn’t have ‘please ask me something about my past’ essentially written on his face, he’d have more time to figure out how to do it best...

107 notes · View notes

south-park-meta · 2 years

Note

Post Covid and Return of Covid

Post Covid (I'll kind of combo the two but if I can think of anything else for Return of Covid I'll do it separately).

★Do I like this episode? Why or why not? I do even though I think it's really...not perfect, especially with Return of Covid combined with it. The actual plot is frankly riddled with holes if you think about it for more than a second. The actual fix they provide is just horribly cheap. The kids were already doing normal shit with each other in the middle of getting sick of each other, and most of their problems seemed to have nothing to do with the pandemic. Tbh the only one I think it could be argued the pandemic really affected was Stan, and even that probably had at least as much to do with being on Tegridy as it did the actual remote learning, so honestly a solid 99% of their problems aren't resolved. On its face honestly there's a pretty good case for me not liking it lol.

What it does have going for it is Stan and Kyle's friendship and individual characterizations. Yes, Stan is acting more extremely in the show and I could buy him burning down the farm. Yes, Kyle often martyrs himself and I could see him staying with the town and taking on a role specifically meant to help the people in it. And of course as a Style fan, how often are you going to get canon, direct admissions of I NEED YOU TO BE HAPPY, I NEED YOU OR MY LIFE IS MEANINGLESS when it comes to characters that are frankly, clearly, not actually going to be a canon couple?

★ Favorite moment? All the characterization bits. I like Stan being a dick...but being a dick specifically to Kyle; he seems to be pretty in check of himself when it comes to everyone else, and he seems tbh polite and nice enough when Kyle's not involved. Kyle having the same of being nice to everyone but Stan and Cartman, Stan because he's hurt because they love each other and Cartman because he's still hurt from the way Cartman abused him as a kid and can't stand to see him not getting some kind of karmic justice for it. Stan flipping out in the church and assuming Kyle's sending some kind of secret message to him, because Kyle still influences his morality and what he thinks is right.

★ Least favorite moment? Hmm... I really liked the Alexa bit in the first part and liked it less in the second (though I did like Kyle being all scared and going ...STAN??? when he gets his own Alexa lol). They kind of switched tracks on what Stan and Alexa's relationship dynamic was imo between the two and I liked it more in the first part. Also that Alexa has a physical robot form to scare Kyle with is weird since she's seemingly holographic even if she can touch things? Idk, some reason the robot arms made her phasing in and out weirder to me than her being able to touch remotes and things. ★ Do I have an unpopular opinion about this episode? What is it? Probably just the extent to which I think the issues aren't resolved, and how the second part really didn't go the direction the first part set up at all. And maybe not unpopular but arguably controversial is that I think this is as close to Style being canon as you can get on SP without them actually kissing.

★ Something I would change? Christ I'd have to do a whole revamp for the plot lol. I'd make the issue their inability to talk to each other rather than say 'it was totally the pandemic' and proceed to resolve it by just going 'sorry i was a dick lmao' and then continuing to not talk about things. Also I wouldn't make Stan do such a complete gd 180 on being fine with Randy and Tegridy. I think he loves Randy and all but their whole thing was a copout. ★ Rating out of 5? 5 for the character side, 3 for the plot side.

2 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

15. Nymph SternClay alternately, Stern is a Dryad residing in a huge forest where a strange creature, similar to humans but different (aka Bigfoot) wanders alone. Ever curious, Stern seeks to understand why this beautiful creature doesn’t seem to have anyone else, and even tries to hide from the few humans who venture deep enough into the woods. Can they be alone together?

Here you go! It’s SFW

Joseph knows he can’t spend every hour in the Great Oak, reading and researching the movements of humans. He still struggles to justify his fascination with creatures that have little contact with his kind. Some of his peers go so far as to insist humans are a myth, or the result of the odd dryad or naiad seeing a bear from the wrong angle.

This is false, of course, and humans have been getting bold lately, making paths and taking walks deeper and deeper into the trees. This means that dryads assigned to security roles must spend at least six hours a day in their tree to make sure no one threatens their home. Joseph is in a Copper Beech not far from the GreenBriar river, mentally drawing up his to-do list for the week, when heavy footsteps catch his attention.

At first he thinks it’s a particularly hairy human tromping through the underbrush, decked out in a ratty flannel shirt and what he’s heard humans refer to as “sweatpants.” But his feet are bare, his limbs and face covered in dark, copper-flecked fur, and his ears are more pointed than those of a human. He leans against Josephs’ tree, drumming his fingers on it as he surveys the area, massive back-pack slung over his shoulders. There’s a flat patch of grass twenty yards away, and this is where the visitor eventually settles. Within fifteen minutes, a small tent sits on the grass. When the creature crawls inside and lays down, his feet stick out of the flap.

Once snoring filters into the air, Joseph slips from the tree, conjures a blanket from moss, and sets it across his feet. It gets cold here at night.

His kind gesture does not go as planned.

The instant the fabric hits skin, the figure in the tent jolts upright, growling. Joseph sits back as his guest's head bursts into the open. Then their positions instantly reverse, the other creature scrambling backwards in alarm.

“What the fuck? Where, where’d you come from, I didn’t hear you, didn’t even smell you sneaking up on me.”

Joseph raises his eyebrows, “Probably because I smell like bark and my footsteps are no different from falling leaves.” He holds out his hand for the creature to shark, “Joseph Stern, dryad.”

“O-kay, so why is a dryad trying to…” he looks at the blanket for the first time, “tuck me in?”

“You’re new to woodland living, I take it?”

“Not really.”

Joseph sighs, “There are specific rules that govern this forest. One of them is that dryads are responsible for everything within a two mile radius of their base” he points to the Beech, “including any residents, visitors, or refugees. Which means you’re my responsibility.”

“Uh, I’m good, you don’t need to, like, babysit me.”

The dryad produces a notebook from his pocket, flipping to the section for his resident intake form, “I’m not babysitting you, I just need some information for my records. Name?”

Deep brown eyes blink, perplexed, and then his guest shrugs, “Barclay.”

“Species?”

“No fucking idea.” Barclay picks up the moss blanket, folding it and setting it next to the tent.

“Purpose of stay?”

“To get some peace and quiet.” He turns a pointed glare at Joseph. Even with the glower, he’s the most handsome creature the dryad has ever seen.

“Um. Right. I’ll just fill in the rest myself. If you need anything, I’m just over there.” He walks briskly away, managing to only look over his shoulder once. Barclay is watching him, looking for all the world like a hare waiting for the fox to pounce.

It’s only when he’s back in the tree that he realizes having a resident will cut down on his research time. Then again, his guest is far more intriguing than any human could ever be.

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

Barclay was so ready to stop feeling bad. He feels bad for stealing the tent from a guy he scared off his campsite two towns back. Bad for yanking clothes off the clothing line of rural houses so he could have two sets to rotate instead of a filthy, single shirt and shorts combo. Bad because it’s been months since he ate anything but MREs, granola bars, and day olds salvaged from dumpsters.

Now he gets to add “feel bad because you’re crashing on some guys front lawn” to that list. He didn’t even know nymphs were a thing; he thought he was the only weird semi-human in the world. Yet here’s Joseph, hair as dark and shiny as the leaves on his home tree, skin the color of bark, and vines occasionally twining up his arms and legs. Unlike Barclay, his inhuman features make him beautiful, not beastly.

Barclay came here to be alone.

Barclay hates being alone. He wants a house full of warmth and voices mingling over a kitchen table, wants people to care for and who care about him. So when Joseph appears the next morning near his small fire and it’s boiling pot of foraged tea, he offers the dryad some.

They sit, awkwardly sipping from their mugs, when he decides to take advantage of his host.

“I, uh, don’t suppose there’s any herbs growing around here? Like mint, or maybe alliaria? I wanna catch fish for dinner, but they taste better if I can season them.”

“I think there’s some growing upstream. Do you want me to show you?”

“Uh, no, that’s fine. I’m used to finding stuff on my own.”

Joseph nods, finishes his tea, and magics the cup clean before handing it back to Barclay.

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

“What...what’s all this?” Barclay stares, stunned, at the pile of goods sitting by his firepit. He counts a camp stove, teapot, and two boxes of fresh food, including bread and cheese,

Joseph looks up from organizing the supplies, “A few friends of mine, plus the Ashroot Market.” He smiles, Barclay’s stomach flipping like a flapjack when he does, “did you think we live on berries and air?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Barclay rubs his arm, embarrassed, “thanks, Joseph. I, uh, I don’t really have money, so maybe I can pay you back with-” he trails off as the nymph stands and sets a hand on his shoulder.

“Barclay, you don’t owe me anything. I did this because you keep saying how much you miss cooking from a real pantry and, um, I thought it’d make you happy to have some options.”

“It does.” He freezes as Joseph strokes the fur poking through a hole in shirt, “I can restock your sewing kit the next time, if you want.”

“That’d be great.” He wants so badly to touch him back, to see if he shudders away from his claws or holds his hand.

Josephs arm drops back to his side, “Ned has a surprising number of camping supplies. I suspect he stole them from humans, which is technically against the rules but” he indicates the stove, “I’ll let it slide for now.”

A conspiratorial wink and Barclay rumbles out a purr, catching it before Joseph notices.

“Will, uh, will you at least let me make you dinner as a thank you?”

The dryad nods, “That sounds perfect, big guy.”

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

Barclay doesn’t howl often; it draws unwanted attention and there’s no one like him out there to answer anyway. Tonight he couldn’t help it, the loneliness tearing him to bits on it’s climb up his throat. He’s cross-legged on the ground, face to the stars, when Joseph sits down beside him.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Thought you were out.”

“I was reading.” Joseph scoots closer, rubbing Barclay’s back, “and I can tell you’re lying.”

Barclay delays answering, fixes his gaze on the Beech where Joseph lives. Nymph homes occupy liminal spaces, fitting an entire domiciles within trees. His current hobby is imagining what it looks like on the inside; whether there are books stacked neatly everywhere, whether there’s a nice kitchen, how big the bed is, what the view from the bed is like…

He’s never going to know, Joseph made that clear.

“It’s not that no other creature is allowed in a nymph home, more that getting them in there takes a dangerous amount of energy.”

“Barclay?” Joseph rests his head on his shoulder, “have you always been alone?”

“No. Or, well, I don’t think so. I get flashes of memory from when I was really little. Like there’s this big house with lots people who look like me, and they’re talking and keep passing me around so the grown-ups can ruffle my fur and make this, this sort of” he breaks off into the low, soft hoots that echo down through the years, “and then...then there’s this gap and the next thing I remember is being dumped on the side of the road somewhere in central California, more or less an adult myself. I spent so long looking for my family, for anyone who looked like or could give me answers and all I got was some scars and a bunch of T.V shows about hunting me.”

“That sounds awful. I, um, I’m glad you stumbled into my neck of the woods. I know I’m not always the best company and ask more questions about living around humans than you’d probably like but, um, you deserve to have at least one person on your side.”

“Thanks” Barclay tips his head sideways so it’s resting against Josephs’, “Uh if, if you ever want to, we could have a dinner here with Duck and them. I like cooking for people; one of those things I know about myself even if I can’t remember why.”

He must imagine the lips brushing his forehead as Joseph sits up, “I’ll invite everyone first thing tomorrow.”

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

A danger of sleeping in Joseph’s clearing is that Barclay feels safe. Starts sleeping like he has nothing to fear.

The voices in the distance, jarring him awake in the dead of night, remind him of the truth.

“Shit” he scrambles out of the tent, piles it and all his other possessions into a hollow log and throws the moss blanket over it just to be safe. Then the worst sound in the world reaches him: barking. Not only are the hunters close, they have dogs. And, his acute hearing informs him, he’s their prey.

Fuck, his scent and fur are all over this part of the woods, no wonder they’re honing in on him so fast. His best chance is to run and cross the river, but there’s an open stretch on the other side, so unless he’s lucky they’ll still spot him.

“Hey! I think something is moving over here!”

He flattens against the Copper Beech, narrowly dodging the beam of a flashlight.

“Shit, shit” he doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He doesn’t want to be caught. Inhaling, he readies himself to give the loudest roar of his life.

Then the world tips and twists and he’s no longer in the woods. He is, however, in a tree, if the view from the window is anything to go by.

Gasping sends his attention to the floor and he drops to his knees, scooping a limp, pale Joseph into his arms.

“Wel, welcome to my house. Sorry it’s such a, a mess.”

He glances at the polished furniture, the neatly stacked books, and the spotless floor.

“Seriously, babe? That’s the first thing you say after saving my neck?” He giggles, tipping towards hysteria.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you.”

“You could have died.” Barclay adjusts him so he’s mostly upright and hugs him close, “I coulda lost you why, why did you-”

His question is lost in the clumsy kiss Joseph pulls him into. Barclay’s body gives up on adapting to anymore surprises and he falls onto his back, the nymph weakly petting his cheeks as he tries, clearly exhausted, to continue kissing him.

“You’re the most incredible being in the forest and, and I’ve been so happy since you came to stay. My entire body feels like a leaf beaten limp by the rain and I’d do the same spell this instant, without hesitation, if that’s what it took to keep you safe. Keep you with me.”

Carefully, Barclay guides him into another kiss, vines curling up them both the more he pours all his affection and thanks into the nymphs mouth. When Joseph finally pulls away, he nestles down on Barclays chest, running his fingers through his fur.

“You, um, you may be here awhile. I’m not sure if I can get you out safely or if Dani and the others will have to help me.”

“No complaints here.” Barclay strokes his hair, which feels like soft leaves and normal locks all at once.

Joseph answers a few more logistical questions before falling asleep in his arms, which is plenty of answers for one night. And in the morning, when the nymph rolls over to smile at him, he can confirm; the view from the bed is beautiful.

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #monster march #reader requests #taz amnesty

24 notes · View notes