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writeformesinpie · 3 years

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The Third Date

Mark x GN!Reader

Word Count - 1.7k

Genre - Fluff

Summary -

It's your third date and Mark asked you to go randonauting. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings -

Slightly suggestive, kissing, hugs, fluff, Mark being boyfriend material

KPOP Masterlist

Before your third date, at that somewhat awkward in-between stage of the relationship where you’re pretty sure your partner won’t murder you but you still can’t be quite certain, Mark asked you to go randonauting with him. It was at the point where you liked him enough to find out more but you knew there was bound to be something you wish you hadn’t uncovered. The clock was ticking closer to the time you’d have to decide if his flaws were compatible with your own or not, but you were not quite there yet; you could wait a few more dates.

At the time you hadn’t known what randonauting was and after googling it, you had started to wonder if he intended to murder you afterall. Randonauting seemed to have started as an app to find new places within the area. There were several videos online about how these trips to random coordinates could go wrong, ranging from trespassing to finding dead bodies to almost becoming one of those bodies yourself.

And yes, you understood the majority of this type of content was for the click, for the view, yet a small voice still rattled around in the back of your head about what Mark had planned. Why did he think this was a good idea? It was your third date - most guys tried to get you back to their apartments but here was Mark inviting you out on a wacky adventure. If there was one thing you could say about Mark, life was never dull while he was around.

Walking up to the park he had suggested as your meeting spot, your shoulders relaxed back down. Your sandals slid against the moist grass. The trees towering overhead rustled, a soft gust of wind dancing through their leaves and the ends of your hair. A smile started to grow as you spotted Mark bounding up the trail towards you with an oversized shopping bag in one hand and a huge grin plastered across his face.

“You made it!”

“Of course,” you said, shifting left to go in for a hug. Mark was a hugger. He held on for longer than you felt necessary but he was harmless so you didn’t mind. His hugs were tight enough to let you know he could be your rock while also allowing enough room for you to escape at any time. He was warm and smelled of Old Spice.

“I forgot to ask what kind of drinks you like so I got a bunch. I got banana milk, Coke, water, Gatorade and sparkling lime soda.” He ran off the names while holding the bag at eye level. “Will that be okay?”

“I’m sure we can make do.”

“And I figured we could get something to eat after if you don’t get tired of me by then,” he said, his eyes on you as he laughed loud enough to draw attention from the couple sitting under a large oak tree beside you.

“I guess we’ll have to see.” You hadn’t known him long but you already knew he was the type of guy that needed a lot of encouragement. It was hard but you ignored his crestfallen face. “So tell me about this app.”

“Dude! It’s so cool though!” His voice got deeper as he sped through a tutorial on the app, shifting back and forth as he showed you his phone. It seemed simple enough.

A few buttons and you had your destination. At a 40 minute walk, you both decided the 5 minute drive would be the better option. The weather was nice today but not nice enough for you to justify walking for that long, let alone to some random spot spat out by your boyfriend's phone.

Boyfriend? Wasn’t it too early to call him that?

Scrambling into your car, it felt safer to use your own vehicle. Mark offered you a drink and you sipped on it as he read out the directions. It was easy to find. A few turns and you had made your way to the spot. It was someone's backyard.

“Sometimes it takes you to other people's places. Let me try a different setting,” he said, messing around with his phone. Taking a moment to admire the houses in the area, you felt him slouch down next to you in the passenger seat. Weeping cherry trees clustered throughout the area, the homes all at least two stories, with three car garages and trimmed gardens. Pink and green in every direction. “Shit."

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing. Let’s just go,” he said, his shoulder laying on the arm rest between you, his head practically in your lap. “I just saw someone I know. I really don’t want to deal with him. He will never shut up, ya know?”

Taking a moment to look up at the other man it was clear he had seen Mark, his brow raised high and a hint of a smile on his lips. You gave him a small nod before continuing down the street. Once you were a few blocks away, you nudged at him and he straightened back up. Looking over his shoulder with a laugh, he gave you the next directions. It was a fifteen minute drive this time and as you continued to follow his words, the roads started to clear. Less traffic adorned the street as the area turned industrial. No one was around this area at 6pm on a Saturday and your mind flashed back to the YouTubes you had watched about randonauting.

“Is this your plan? To get me alone in some creepy, old abandoned building?”

“Dude! You know I wouldn’t do that.”

But you didn’t know that.

“Right up here on the left.”

“Where?”

“On the left.”

“There’s nowhere to turn.”

“I think it’s inside that shipping yard right there.”

“The shipping yard?”

“Wow. This is so creepy,” he said before jumping out of the car. “Should we go in?”

Shipping containers littered the property, but since there was no water nearby you weren’t sure if you could call it a shipyard. Wasn’t a shipyard where they built and repaired actual ships? This was where rundown containers came to die. The once vibrant-coloured metal of the containers was faded, the structure of the metal starting to deteriorate.

“I don’t know. Isn’t this trespassing?”

“I just want to see the spot it’s taking us to. You can stay here if you want.”

“No.” Being alone out here on this silent street sounded less appealing than going inside. “I’ll come with you.”

“Yeah! Let’s do it!” His excitement was contagious, bubbling around him as he hopped up and down, leading you through the rusted gate now missing a few rungs in its old age making it easy to squeeze through.

The sun was setting, light sprinkling in between the limited empty spaces as you made your way down one of the rows of crates. The air was stale the further you got in, the large metal boxes leaving less room with each step.

“It really smells different here. The air. The air is a lot more…” he said as he lifted his face to smell the air. “Metal. Ful.”

“Metalful?” His nervous chuckle caused a laugh to tumble out.

“Well at least you're having a good time.” He brushes his pinky against yours. He’s got no game but you don’t mind. Leaning against him, you curled your fingers around his. He shuffled closer before jerking back. “Hey, I think it led us to this crate. This one right here.”

“This exact one?” He is pointing at the container a few steps to your left, the only one in the area that’s open, as if inviting you both inside. “I can’t see inside. That’s probably not a good sign.”

“No, but it’s like unnaturally dark in there, right? Should we go in there?”

“Huh?”

“No! Yo? Dude? Should we?” He grins, creeping closer to it. “Should we though?”

“No?”

“Wow, I mean. Should we?” Shaking your head, you followed close behind as he walked into the massive container. There was a scratching noise coming from the back of the container. It echoed and bounced off the walls, causing Mark to jump back, lodging himself against you. “Oh my Jesus!” He half-shouted, half-whispered.

You pulled out your phone and turned on the flashlight. The light scanned the walls quickly before searching the floor. The only thing inside was a small brown mouse huddled in the furthest corner and a few empty food wrappers scattered across the metal ground.

“Oh hey, little buddy. Hey, little man,” Mark said, composing himself now that there was no imminent danger. “Hi.”

“He’s going to run if you get too close.”

“I’m just saying hello to the little guy, nothing to worry about here,” he said, slowly edging back with exaggerated steps. “You do you.”

Once out of the container you both started to walk back to the car. His hand made its way to your waist. It was comforting. You wanted him to be close so as the car started to materialize after the last turn, you stopped in front of him.

“That was fun.”

“Did you think it wouldn’t be?” He asked with a smile playing at the corner of his lips, his eyes intent on yours. Warm. He was warm. Trustworthy.

“I wasn’t sure,” you said before stepping closer. “I’m glad I came though.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t have met that little guy if we didn’t. It was like we were being told to visit him. It’s so crazy how this app works, right?”

Placing a hand on his arm, you drifted close enough to feel the heat from his chest. Finally taking the bait, he swooped down to claim your lips. He tasted like bananas and cinnamon. He tasted safe. He tasted like someone you wanted to spend more time with.

His arm wrapped around your neck, pulling you tight against him as your tongue tasted him, lips eager for more. But not here. You bit his lip before pulling back, a lazy smile on your lips as you led him back towards the car.

“Let’s see where else this app can take us.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this content! If you did, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging and/or following, and check out my masterlist for similar content. Have a great day!

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codenamed-queenie · 4 years

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#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched.

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire.

So. Quarantine it is.

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick -

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days.

Then he started to get twitchy.

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.”

“Dick, no.”

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t.

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass.

Desperate for news of the outside.

He thrives off of it like a starving man.

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after.

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason -

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist.

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking.

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results.

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it.

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up.

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done.

Barbara -

Self-quarantined with her dad.

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive.

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs.

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together.

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles.

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony.

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window.

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background.

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute.

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen.

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe.

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned.

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim.

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being.

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out.

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it.

Cass -

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate.

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed.

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far.

But no one knows for sure.

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel.

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later.

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic.

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day.

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’ mostly.

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost.

Steph -

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first.

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down.

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable.

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving.

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks.

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s.

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic.

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian -

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house.

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine.

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds.

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion.

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time.

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are.

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time.

Only that he is Out There.

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had.

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies.

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat.

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts.

Duke -

Did not leave the attic for two weeks.

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement.

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement.

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement.

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa.

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally.

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others.

Duke has seen these people under pressure.

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

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ynisamenace · 3 years

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Party For One

Warnings: sub! Aone being a flustered mess, confident dom! Reader, nsfw kinda (grinding, not pg-13 kissing), mention of drugs and alcohol, college au! Aone.

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: ok guys this is my first fanfic so apologies if it’s not too good or if the ending is too rushed. Constructive criticism is always welcome and pls don’t forget to like and/or reblog. Thank you!

Aone was not much of a party goer. Although his friends were more outgoing, he in fact was not. He was more of a homebody, mostly leaving his shared apartment with Kenji for school, to get more ramen from the corner shop near his uni or practice with his newly-formed volleyball team; courtesy of his newly-formed friend, Kanji. Then proceeding to come home to shower, nap, wake up, struggle with his homework and then sleep till the next day. He was about to start the fourth activity of his daily routine when the sound of the doorbell rang through the apartment.

Sighing, he left his spot at the kitchen island to open the front door, then trying to close it once Kanji’s face appeared behind it.

“Woah woah if you wanted some alone time, you should’ve just said that”, the cat-faced friend exclaimed, just barely slipping through the crack in the door. Face adorned with brown freckles and a smile seemingly super glued to his face, he looked like the poster boy of golden retriever boys, “Wouldn’t matter anyway since I’m still dragging you to Sugawara’s tonight.”

Ah yes, Suga’s party, the one Aone was being forced to go to as a favour for his new friend. The white haired boy uttered a grunt of disapproval as Kanji plopped down onto his couch.

“I’m telling you man, when girls see us walking in together with my beauty and your scowl-,” he smirked while giving Aone a once over, “-they’ll come flocking like parakeets.” Aone ignored his new friend’s rambling and was about to go back to his homework when his phone buzzed. Picking it up and looking at his crush’s name made him do a double take before realizing it was from his class groupchat.

Y/n❤: Someone better come pick me up or else I’m dumping the mary jane😤

Sugawara: You live on campus, how did you sneak it in?

Y/n❤: Come pick me up and I’ll tell you

Bsf/n: I can see I’m gonna be on y/n duty tonight. I’ll come get you in 5

Y/n❤: Girl I’ll literally marry you don’t play with me

-5 minutes later-

Y/n❤: Psa to everyone in this groupchat, bsf/n and I are married now

Bsf/n: As long as you do my makeup for the party lol

Y/n❤: Deal

A slightly dejected sigh left the tall boy’s lips, wishing it was him y/n would joke about marrying to the- wait party?? The realization that y/n was going to the same party as him made heart race with anticipation and although he never talked to her in any of the classes they shared, Aone developed a massive crush on y/n just by seeing the way she interacts with others as well as her personality. Her presence when she walks into a room, beautiful coily/kinky hair either flowing or in a different ‘protective style’ (which Aone ended up googling the meaning to) and her face adorned with a smile so bright, he could feel his ears getting hotter just by its look, it would be foolish to think that no other person in his uni or elsewhere had already snatched her up. Which is why Aone never felt the need to let her know about how much he was falling for her.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his roommate’s door opening, revealing a clearly tipsy Kenji trying and failing to button up the last button on his silk shirt.

“Is anyone g-gonna help or what..” he slurred, stumbling into the living room, planting himself right in front of Aone who begrudgingly helped him with the last button. Satisfied, the intoxicated boy walks over to Kanji on the couch who’s currently scrolling through his instagram feed. He gives Kenji a once over before giving a nod of approval to his outfit. He turns to the tall, white haired boy, “Aone go change, the party starts in 10 and you know it’ll take us half an hour to get there!”, he exclaimed gesturing to Aone with his hands in a shooing manner. He didn’t understand what was wrong with his gray shirt and black sweatpants but went to his room to go change anyway, returning six minutes later sporting a green and white checkered shirt with dark blue jeans and black levis. The trio hurriedly leave their apartement, Kanji practically dragging both boys to his car before appointing Aone as the designated driver as the boy was the only one who had no intention to drink at the party.

The ride to the party took much more than half an hour as Aone was forced to drive while simultaneously trying to stop the two boys at the back from drinking any more of the pregame Kanji brought as well as preventing Kenji from messing with the aux cord. In the end, both boys settled on playing Ei8th mile on repeat the rest of the drive, both alternating between rapping DigDat and Aitch’s lines. Finally getting to the address Sugawara sent to the group, the trio hopped out of the car and went to knock on the door, opening to reveal the silver haired boy in all his glory wearing a burger king crown and a drunk smile.“You guys look li-hiccup-ke you had a fun drife here”, opening the door wider to reveal flashing red and purple strobe lights, living room filled with drunk and soon-to-be drunk college students and a hiphop song playing with a loud base that almost made Aone’s teeth clink. The two drunk boys wasted no time heading to the make shift bar in the kitchen, Aone following reluctantly behind feeling quite awkward in the party setting. Even worse, he was unable to spot y/n in the crowd making his heart drop lower into his stomach.

No no no no.

Even though Aone didn’t think y/n would like him the way he likes her, he was hoping he could at least use this party to make himself known to her, maybe forming a friendship with her first before professing his love. Dejectedly, he trudges to the bar, sulking next to his now very drunk friends who are far more interested with the designs on the kitchen counter.

“Dude it’s so swirly…how do they make it like that?” one of the boys asks.

“Bro it has to be like a top secret thing. Like in the dark web,” the other replied, his eyes widening as his pupils are blown out more.

Not wanting to deal with their drunk conspiracies, Aone heads to the store room in search for some water after not seeing any laid out. Finding a bottle, he quickly gulps it down, faintly hearing the song in the living room change to one with a much deeper base. Leaving the store with his thirst finally quenched, he recognizes the song as Cold by Rico Nasty, her gravely voice echoing around the living room and drowning out some of the chatter which Aone was grateful for.

Ridin’ in a Maserati

Like Scotty I’m with two hotties

I ain’t just walk in the party-

“I brought the drugs to the partyyyy”, a voice which made Aone’s heart beat faster screamed, Y/n bursting through the front door with a medium sized pack of marijuana and a tray of what he assumes are pot brownies as the crownd cheered at her arrival. Her eyes wide with excitement, hair in cute little bantu knots (which Aone noted is now probably his favourite hairstyle on her), and dazzling smile still glued to her face. Making a bee line to the kitchen to drop the stuff she was holding, she hugged and greeted the people closest to her, making Aone regret not standing closer to the front door before realizing she was making her way straight to him.“Hi Polar Bear!” her scent of f/p enveloping him as she hugged his stomach, hair right next to nose, making the boy short-circuit. Y/n is hugging me. Me. Hugging. She smells so good. I should probably hug her back. But what if that’s weird. Hugging me. I’m gonna marry her. I’m gonna throw u-

“Takanobu woohoo you good?” she whispered in neck, drawing him out of his daydream, while at the same time making blood rush to his lower region. His eyes widen as he turns to see her staring right at him, inches apart and eyes questioning.

“I-I’m doing well y/n, um you uh look great tonight”, he managed to blurt out, his compliment making her lips curve into that signature smile. He unconsciously let out a low groan as he felt his jeans tighten even more as his mind raced a mile a minute, envisioning her on top of him, smile turning into a smirk as she runs her hands over his body making him squirm. His neck, his nipples, his happy trail, his-

Once again brought out of his daydream, he looked around to see y/n already gone and dancing in the living room, her presence making her look ethereal in the flashing lights. Smiling slightly, Aone deciding to stop before his imagination made him cream in his pants, decided to go look for his friends spotting both of them laying near a potted plant in the hallway caressing the leaves and muttering under their breaths. He discreetly goes back to the store, getting two bottles of water and placing them on either side of his friends, knowing they’ll be shocked at it ‘appearing’.

Sighing tiredly, he briefly thinks of just driving back to his apartment having already seen his crush and hugged her, but decided against it not wanting to feel guilty for abandoning his intoxicated friends. He was about to go to the backyard looking for some fresh air before he heard his name being said in the crowd. Turning around too quickly he bumped into someone, gripping their waist and letting their scent envelop him before he caught a glimpse of their hair.

Yes yes God yes

“Nobu I’m so sorry, I was trying to get your attention but you didn’t turn around!” y/n exclaimed, gripping his shirt making the boy realize his grip on her waist was tightening significantly. He quickly tried to let go but y/n wasn’t having any of it and planted his large palm on her backside, squeezing a little. Aone’s face had never been as red as it is now from that simple action. Clearing his throat, he gives a tentative squeeze to gauge her reaction and seeing the smirk on her face as her pupils darken. She finally releases her grip on his hand and turns to the dance floor, Aone follow behind.

As they reach the dance floor, afrobeats fill the air as joro by wizkid which Aone knew was one of y/n’s favourite songs) plays turning the energy of the party to a slower tempo. Y/n turns to the tall boy, once more putting his hands on her waist, before pulling him closer to her, their bodies now pressed against eachother.

Aone can feel her grinding on his pants and begs to any God who’ll listen to please not let him pop a boner right now. Her mouth comes closer to his ear and he can feel her breath making shivers run down his spine. “I could feel it you know…” she whispers as his eyes widen, embarrassment from though him as he realizes she felt the first boner he popped while hugging her in the kitchen “…didn’t peg you as the type. What a pervert you are Nobu.”

That small gesture almost made Aone cream in his pants. Almost. If not for the overwhelming shame he would feel if someone saw him, his dick was already as hard as can be. A murmur left Aone’s lips and y/n has to strain her neck to hear him over the sound of the music flowing through the house.

“What was that Nobu?”

“P-plea-ase,” he whispers, ears a bright shade of red as y/n smirks looking him in the eye to see his pupils blown out, clouded with lust and feeling his member poking her in the thigh.

“Please what Nobu?” their lips almost touching.

“..Please kiss me”

“That’s all you had to say ya damn polar bear”, finally pressing her lips on his and making the butterflies in his stomach turn into fireworks. He really couldn’t believe it. His head felt like it was about to burst from all the blood that rushed into it. Her lips felt so much better, so much better than his imagination. Her hands sliding up to his neck and slipping into the hair on the nape of his neck, he uttered a low groan giving access to y/n to slip her tongue onto his. Aone could feel his precum dampening his briefs and hoped that a dark spot wouldn’t be visible by the end of the night. She tried to break the kiss, his head leaning closer not letting her go until she tugged hard on his nape hair forcefully, a string of saliva still connecting them.

“What a needy boy”, she smirked, letting go of him to swipe at the corner of his lips. “Why didn’t I come speak to you earlier?”, he didn’t care because for him, this really was worth the wait.

Aone was not much of a party goer, but he’d have to thank his friends in the morning for forcing him to go to this one.

Tags: @itzgabz22

#aone x reader #dom!reader #haikyuuxblackreader!#aone x y/n #haikyuu!!#blackreader!#sub!aone #ceowrites

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jacquihyde · 3 years

Text

Nighthawks

It’s a cold winter in Gotham, and the long nights provide a perfect backdrop for mysterious, dangerous occurrences on the campus of Gotham University. Tim Drake believes that the case will be open-and-shut, but combined with the weight of the secrets he is keeping from his family, his boyfriend, and himself, the skeletons in the university’s closet may succeed in drawing him too close.

Part 3: The Only Ones Left In The World

Bernard had his own room at Tim’s apartment, but he had fallen asleep in Tim’s own room the first night that he moved in and hadn’t gone back since. It had gotten to the point that Tim’s bed felt empty without him.

It was empty now. Bernard was at Gotham University studying while Tim continued to investigate the strange events occurring on campus. Scouring social media had told him that there had been a few more sightings of shadows, strange feelings, even apparitions. At least one person had ended up with a handprint mark like Mikaela’s somewhere on their body.

Tim put a hand to his own neck, imagining it. It was cold, but not frostbite cold. Not leave a lasting scar cold.

Tim spotted movement at the door and glanced up, seeing Bernard silhouetted in the yellow light spilling out of the hallway. “Hey,” he said.

“You’re home earlier than I thought,” Tim said.

Bernard groaned. “I could not do those readings anymore.” He flopped dramatically onto the bed, and Tim tried not to flinch. “What are you up to?”

Tim shuffled over slightly. “You remember the thing with Mikaela?”

Bernard nodded. “You’re looking into that?”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “Not getting much, though. Have you seen anything weird happening on campus?”

Bernard leaned back against the pillows. “Oh, there were some people LARPing The Princess Bride in front of the library when I was leaving. That was a little strange.”

Tim grinned. “Weird like supernatural weird.”

Bernard shrugged. “I mean, there’s always rumors,” he said. “Some people think there are secret tunnels under the school, but I think that pretty much every college has that rumor. And the frats can get kind of crazy with hazing, they’re always telling stories...oh, speaking of frats.”

“This can’t be good.”

Bernard laughed. “I got invited to an Omega Chi Omega party on Friday, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

“Weren’t you telling me that Omega Chi Omega is kind of insane?”

“Yeah, and I want to experience it. Come on, it’s college. I like parties.” Bernard leaned closer to Tim. “And I like you.”

Tim sat up straighter. “You said it was rush week,” he said. “Are you pledging?”

“Fuck no,” Bernard said. “But I think it’s funny that I got invited to this party like they thought I was going to.” He shot a questioning glance at Tim’s laptop. “Hey, don’t you usually work downstairs?”

Tim shrugged. “I’m tired.”

Bernard raised his eyebrows. “Are you?”

Tim was tired. Among other things. “Yes,” he said. He turned back to his laptop. “Um, do you -”

“Hey, what’s that on your shirt?”

Tim knew without having to look that he’d started bleeding again. “Oh,” he said, glancing down anyway. A steadily-growing spot of bright red had appeared on his side, standing out against his light gray shirt. “Um, I was stabbed.”

Bernard was staring at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, you were stabbed?”

“Lightly stabbed,” Tim said.

“Oh, lightly stabbed. That’s so much better.”

“It is, though!” Tim said. “It didn’t hit anything vital. I won’t even need stitches.”

“Yeah, sure,” Bernard said. “Where do you keep first aid kits, again? I know you have at least twelve stashed around here.”

Tim sighed. He knew when to give up. “There’s one under the bed.”

Bernard disappeared underneath the bed. “Take your shirt off,” he said, his voice muffled.

“As you wish,” Tim said. He heard Bernard laugh and couldn’t help but smile. It turned into a pained hiss as he twisted to remove his t-shirt.

“Shit,” Bernard said. “Here, let me…” Tim heard a thunk as he tossed the first aid kit onto the bed, then Bernard’s hands were on his skin, helping him take off the shirt. Tim could feel Bernard’s stare at the wound like it was another scar. “Did you even do anything to treat it?”

“I did!” Tim protested weakly.

“Like what? What did you do?”

“Waited for it to stop bleeding and then tried not to move,” Tim admitted.

Bernard glared at him. “Wrong answer.”

“I promise that it had stopped bleeding,” Tim said. “I don’t know what happened.” Bernard took out his phone, typing something. “What are you doing?” Tim asked.

“Googling how to treat a stab wound,” Bernard said.

“Wow,” Tim said. “I’m glad I’m in such safe hands.”

“Sorry that my neuroscience homework didn’t prepare me for treating my boyfriend’s ‘light stab wound’,” Bernard said. “Okay, so this is going to sting a bit.”

Tim braced himself, but still winced at the feeling of antiseptic against his skin. “It’s not that deep,” Bernard said. “And it’s pretty clean, considering...what you do. Who was it, anyway? It wasn’t…”

“It was not one of my brothers,” Tim affirmed. “We’re past that. Um, it was a gang fight that I got in the middle of. Red Hood went after them, B made me go home.”

“Good,” Bernard said. The cold of the antiseptic was gone, followed by mild pressure. “So you’ve been doing this for how long?” he asked, quieter this time.

“Since I was thirteen,” Tim said.

“Hm,” Bernard said. “And how many stab wounds have you had?”

His tone was humorous, but Bernard would have to be a stranger for Tim not to notice the darker tone lurking underneath his words. “Not too many, I promise,” Tim said.

“I think we might have different definitions of ‘not too many’.”

Bernard brushed his fingers against another scar on Tim’s abdomen, then another, then another. Tim caught his hand, bringing it up to his lips. “I’m okay,” he murmured.

Bernard finally finished applying the bandages and sat back up, his lips just a breath away from Tim’s. “I know you are,” he said softly.

Tim leaned in to kiss him, and they didn’t talk for a while after that.

Apparently Bernard was serious about the frat party. Tim didn’t quite believe him until they were on Gotham U’s campus, standing in front of a brightly lit house. Loud music and laughter spilled out of the open windows and door. It looked like something out of a bad movie. He turned to Bernard to tell him that when suddenly the door slammed open, two guys dashing outside. They stopped short upon seeing Bernard and Tim. “Bernard!” one yelled, then turned to his friend. “This is the guy I was telling you about. You know, my chem lab partner. Super cool.”

“Oh, you’re Bernard,” the other dude said. He was taller, a Gotham University cap sitting sideways on his head. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Chad.” Of course it is, Tim thought.

“Nice to meet you too. And nice seeing you, Zac,” Bernard said. “Um, this is my boyfriend Tim.”

Zac narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Do I know you?” he asked. “You look really familiar.”

“Um,” Tim said.

“Holy shit, you’re Tim Drake-Wayne,” Chad interrupted. He looked over at Zac. “Did you know he was dating Tim Drake-Wayne?”

“Dude, no,” Zac said. “That’s so cool, bro.”

“Um, thanks,” Bernard said. “I think so too. I think we’re going to head inside -”

“Oh!” Chad said. “Before you go in, just make sure to steer clear of the basement. We’ve locked it up for a reason, you know?”

Bernard raised his eyebrows. “...Okay,” he said. He took Tim’s hand and the two of them headed into the house. They almost immediately met crowds of people — sitting on the stairs, dancing in the living room, drinking in the kitchen. Bernard had told him that Omega Chi Omega threw some of the biggest parties on campus. Tim definitely believed him.

“They were interesting,” Tim said.

“Who, Zac and Chad?” Bernard said. “Yeah, sorry about them.”

“No, it’s fine,” Tim said. “I’m glad I could boost your popularity.”

Bernard laughed. Tim glanced around at the students surrounding them. That could have been me, he thought. If he had never witnessed Dick’s parents’ deaths. If Jason had never gone to Ethiopia. If Tim hadn’t dropped out of Ivy Town U. If, if, if.

“Hey, are you okay?” Bernard asked.

Tim glanced over at him. To be heard, he would either have to yell or get a whisper’s breath away from Bernard. He much preferred the latter. “It’s kind of a lot,” he said.

He didn’t explain, but he didn’t need to. “Do you want to leave?" Bernard asked. "Because we can. It's no big deal.”

Tim shook his head. “No, just…” He trailed off, not sure how to put it into words.

Bernard smiled. “Just focus on me, okay?”

Tim couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay.” He wanted to kiss him. It took him a moment to remember that that was something that he could do now, whenever he wanted. And so he did. He felt Bernard’s grin against his lips, his arms wrapping loosely around his neck. They were surrounded by people, and yet Tim felt like they were the only ones in the world.

“Tim?”

The illusion disappeared as instantly as it had taken shape. Tim was suddenly aware of the people surrounding him, the loud music and chatter. And there, standing behind him, was Steph. He couldn’t see her face. He didn’t want to see her face. But he knew exactly who she was, exactly where she was. It would be impossible for him not to.

Tim forced himself to turn around, and sure enough, there she was. He couldn’t read her expression. He could count on one hand the number of times that that had happened. The LED lights lining the room faded from blue to purple. Steph would like that, he thought dimly.

He realized that she was speaking and forced himself to tune back in. “...don’t think we’ve met,” she was saying to Bernard. Tim unconsciously found himself squeezing Bernard’s hand. He wasn’t sure of when he’d taken hold of it. Part of him wanted to let go, but the rest of him knew that he couldn’t.

Bernard squeezed back. “Um, I’m Bernard.”

Steph smiled slightly. “Oh, I remember Tim talking about you! I’m Stephanie.”

Bernard’s eyes widened. “You’re real? Back in high school I thought that Tim was making you up.”

Steph laughed, and Tim took advantage of her split second distraction to meet Bernard’s gaze. Tim wasn’t sure exactly what emotion was behind his own eyes — something along the lines of panic, probably — but Bernard got the hint. “Um, I’m going to go get drinks,” he said. “Do you want anything?”

Tim shook his head. Bernard squeezed his hand once more and then disappeared into the crowd. Tim turned to Steph, acutely aware of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. He tried to remember some of the grounding techniques that Jaine had taught him. Five things he could see — the purple lights, the car passing by outside the window, the lock on the basement door…

“So are you going to talk, or should I?” Steph said.

Tim wrenched his attention back to her. “I don’t know what to say,” he said weakly.

Steph shrugged. “I can talk, if you want,” she offered.

“I’m sorry,” Tim blurted out.

Steph frowned. “You’re...sorry,” she repeated. “For what?”

“I…” Tim swallowed hard. “You know.”

“Tim.” Steph took a step closer to him. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m not mad. Seriously.”

“I should have told you.”

Steph shook her head. “You didn’t have to. That was up to you.” She looked off in the direction that Bernard had gone. “I do remember you talking about him in high school, you know,” she said. “You always really liked him.”

“I didn’t know what it was that I was feeling,” Tim said. “I didn’t even register it until...until the whole cult thing.”

Steph let out a breath. “God, of course it was the cult thing. That’s exactly the kind of weird shit you would get into.”

Tim laughed. He could feel the weight sliding off his shoulders as Steph pulled him into a hug. “I did love you, you know,” he whispered. “I still do.”

She held onto him tighter. “I love you too.”

Tim leaned his head against her shoulder, opening his eyes. He caught a glimpse of the basement door behind her. The door was wide open, the padlock hanging uselessly from the doorknob. He barely had time to register it before the world went black.

He stumbled backwards, pulling away from Steph. She kept a hold on his arm amidst the screams from the other partygoers. “What the hell?” she yelled, her mouth close to his ear. “Did a fuse blow or something?”

Tim tried to scan the room, but his eyes hadn’t yet adjusted. “I don’t think…”

The LED lights flashed back on — blue, then purple, then pink. There was a shriek coming from somewhere to Tim’s left, not tinged with laughter or exhilaration as the earlier yells had been, but infused with terror. He didn’t have to say a word. Steph was already moving, pulling him with her.

The crowd had grown too thick to easily maneuver through, but the two of them were smaller enough than most of the frat boys that they could form a path. Even then, Tim could only catch fleeting glimpses of the body lying still on the ground, the guy's skin covered in frost and handprints. His eyes were open, but glazed over, unresponsive.

Tim had barely managed to process the image in front of him before he was hearing more screaming, this time from another corner of the room. He didn’t even have to look to know that there was another comatose body frozen on the floor.

He turned to Steph. “Get everyone out,” he said.

She nodded, her eyes wide. “What about you?”

“I need to check something out,” he said.

“So you’re going to go towards whatever’s causing this?” she said. “Tim Drake, you would be the first to die in a horror movie.”

“I know,” Tim said. Without another word he moved away, shoving through the crowd towards the basement door. Everyone was too distracted to notice him approaching the forbidden location. Some were still gathered around the bodies, but most had figured out that escape was their best option.

“Tim!”

Tim turned away from the door, and there was Bernard, barely visible through the fleeing crowds. He made eye contact with him, feeling the screaming, the running footsteps, the heat of the crowd surrounding them fade away. The only ones left in the world.

Tim stepped backwards, closing the basement door behind him. The last thing he saw was Bernard’s stricken face, a word that Tim never got to hear still hanging on his lips.

It was even darker in the basement. Windows lined the tops of the walls, letting the dim glow of the streetlights outside stream in. Tim kept a hand on the wall as he carefully navigated the stairs. It looked like the room hadn’t been renovated, or even cleaned, in decades. Tim could just barely make out the faded posters lining the room, and, surrounding them, the graffiti. It looked as if everyone who had ever been a part of Omega Chi Omega had signed these walls. Some deep-set instinct told Tim to stop touching them.

The only furniture was the shelves lining the walls. They were little more than worn-out planks of wood, looking as though they were going to give out at any moment. Most of them were unused, with only a few places throughout the room, seemingly random, having objects placed upon them. He approached the closest, a folded-up Gotham University Nighthawks jersey. He could just barely make out a name and a number — Rivers, 11. Amidst the scramble of words written on the wall, Tim could read one in particular, written deliberately above where the jersey was lying. “Logan Rivers, 2024,” he murmured aloud.

He made his way around the room, investigating each shelf. There was a black ring (David Choi, 2009), a faded and empty journal (Jamie Collins, 1978), a torn red tie (Alec Samuel, 1994). Tim wondered idly if it was some kind of hall of fame or something. It obviously wasn’t just anyone who got to leave an artifact down here.

At the far end of the room, there was a silver locket, so small and unassuming that Tim almost completely missed it. “Sam Kingston, 1985,” he read. His hand hovered above the locket, but he didn’t touch it. Something felt sacred about it, too personal for him to see.

There was a creak from the stairs, and Tim whirled around, his hand flying to his waist for a weapon that didn’t exist. One of the bros — Chad — was standing in the shadows engulfing the last stair. “Hey,” Tim said. “Sorry, I know you said not to come down here, but I got kind of pushed down in the whole chaos upstairs. I’ll leave.”

Chad said nothing, just continued to stare at him. Tim’s heart leaped into his throat. “Chad?”

Tim didn’t even see him move. One moment Chad was on the stairs, the next he was leaping at him, hands outstretched. Tim barely managed to leap aside, and even then, Chad was close enough for him to feel the cold wafting off of his skin. “Shit,” Tim whispered as Chad turned back around to face him. His skin had gone pale, and Tim could see the edges of a frost-encrusted handprint peering out of his collar. “Chad, this isn’t you.”

Chad charged him again. Tim drove him back with an elbow to the stomach, jumping out of the way of his hands. He had no clue how this thing spread, but he could tell that it wasn’t anything he wanted to take any chances on. It affects different people in different ways, he thought, shoving Chad back again. Chad’s back hit the shelves and he stumbled as the wood gave a dangerous creak. Mikaela was fine, just shaken. The people outside were knocked out. Chad… It was like he was possessed. He was faster than before. Much stronger than he should have been. And there was nothing, nothing at all, left behind his eyes.

Tim ran for the stairs. He knew that Chad was right behind him, but if he timed it right…

He vaulted over the railing. Chad was going too fast to stop himself and slammed right into it. Tim watched as he took one step, then two, then collapsed onto the ground, his soulless eyes slowly shutting.

Tim jumped down off of the stairs, approaching Chad as quietly as possible. The color was slowly returning to his skin, but the handprint still stood out, stark-white and frozen. He could see the fight going out of him. Hopefully, he would be back to normal, if a little disoriented, by the time he woke up.

Tim maneuvered out of one of the basement windows, just wide enough for him to fit through. Someone had called the cops, and the outside of the frat house was bathed in red and blue light. Tim slipped past the crowds onto the sidewalk, away from where the officers were roaming.

“Tim!”

He whirled around, and there was Bernard, getting to his feet from where he was sitting on the curb. Tim rushed over to him. “What the hell happened in there?” Bernard asked.

Tim shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It was like what happened to Mikaela, but on a whole other level.” He glanced around. “Where did Steph go?”

“She was talking to the cops, last I saw her,” Bernard said. His voice dropped lower. “You didn’t tell me that you dated Spoiler.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “Did she tell you that?”

“No,” Bernard said. “I figured it out.”

Tim wished he could go back in time and tell his thirteen-year-old self all about the guy he would eventually end up dating. “Well. You were right,” he said.

Bernard laughed, but it seemed subdued. Tim reached out, grasping his hand again. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

Bernard nodded. “Yeah. It’s just kind of hitting me that I’m dating a vigilante. When you went down to the basement...it kind of freaked me out. Same as when you got stabbed the other day. Not only because I don’t want you to get hurt, but because…” He stopped suddenly. “This is stupid.”

Tim shook his head. “No, what is it?”

Bernard sighed. “I’m just never going to really know that part of your life, am I?” Tim stared at him, and Bernard begrudgingly continued. “It’s like...you looked right at me after everything went crazy tonight. And you didn’t say anything, you just ran right into danger without saying a word. And the whole stabbing thing, you were going to hide that from me. And I get it. I really do. It’s just a lot to think about.”

Tim swallowed hard. “I’m…” he started to say.

Bernard cut him off. “Don’t say you’re sorry,” he said. “I’m not mad. It was just a weird night and everything’s kind of hitting me all at once.” He looked up over Tim’s head at the dispersing crowds behind them. “We should head home. I don’t want to get caught up in whatever happens here next.”

Tim couldn’t get Bernard’s words out of his head. He couldn’t tell what Bernard was thinking either, and it haunted him, running as a constant undercurrent in his mind. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed, and of course that someone ended up being Jaine.

“You have something to say,” she told him. She couldn’t even see his face — she was at her desk while Tim was turned away from her, giving Batman the axolotl bite-sized pieces of earthworm. “I can always tell with you.”

Tim nodded. “Something happened the other day,” he said, pushing past the reluctance. Batman finished the last piece of earthworm and turned to look at him with unblinking eyes. “That’s all I’ve got,” Tim told him. Batman, predictably, did not respond.

“Was it a Robin thing or a Tim Drake thing?” Jaine asked.

“Sort of both.” Tim sat back down. “Bernard and I were at this party…” He slowly told her about the Omega Chi Omega incident, from the moment that Steph caught him and Bernard to their conversation after Tim left the basement. “And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” he finished quietly, barely able to be heard over Batman’s filter bubbling.

Jaine nodded. “Do you feel guilty about it?”

“Maybe not guilty,” Tim said. “Except…” He sighed. “I want him to be a part of my life,” he said. “Every bit of it. Even the darker parts. But I don’t know how to do that.”

“What do you mean you don’t know how?” Jaine asked. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

“Both,” Tim said. “I think. I don’t really know how to define it. I’m just not used to opening up to people like that. Even if I want to, the words get stuck in my throat. And mixing that with what I’m letting him into…”

Jaine nodded. “It’s hard,” she said. “He knows Tim, and he knows Robin. But knowing both, that’s different.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “Different. It feels like it shouldn’t be possible.”

“But you know that it is,” Jaine pointed out. “And he’d tell you that too.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “That and a million other things.”

“So what are you going to tell him?” Jaine asked.

Tim thought about it, and then spoke.

At the end of the night, Robin was perched on his own windowsill, peering in through the window. Bernard was in the living room, typing something on his laptop. Light streamed in from the hallway behind him, making him look as if he was made of gold. Tim knocked on the window lightly and Bernard glanced up. He smiled slightly when he saw Tim outside, getting up to unlock the window.

“This is a surprise,” Bernard said as he slid the window open. “There’s a perfectly good entrance downstairs.”

“I needed to talk to you,” Tim said. “And I didn’t want to wait.” Bernard frowned, and Tim instantly felt guilty. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. It’s just about the other day at the party.”

“Oh,” Bernard said. “I told you, I’m not mad about it -”

“I know you’re not,” Tim said. “There are just some things that I want to say.”

Bernard nodded. “Okay,” he said. Tim was silent, and Bernard raised his eyebrows. “So are you going to talk, or…”

“I am, I just...ugh. I literally rehearsed this. Why is it so hard?”

“You rehearsed it?” Bernard repeated.

“I don’t want to get this wrong,” Tim said. “I’ve never done this before. Any of this.”

Bernard nodded. “Like, dating a guy?”

“Yes,” Tim said. “No. It’s not just about that. I’ve never dated someone who knows about every side of me who isn’t a vigilante themselves. And I want to say that that’s why I instinctively want to hide things from you. It’s not like the ‘because I love you’ thing -” He realized what he had said and cut himself off, his cheeks flushing bright red. Bernard stared at him, his mouth slightly open. Tim forced himself to keep talking. “That’s not what I want it to be like. But I do want to protect you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, not again, not ever. But that’s...that’s not the whole truth. I don’t really know how to open up. I’m trying to learn how, but it’s never been something that I’ve ever been good at, not ever. And you deserve better than that, and I’m sorry. I really am.”

Bernard stepped closer to him. When he spoke, their lips almost brushed together. “You know that you can talk to me about anything.”

“I do know that,” Tim replied. “I’m just not great at making myself believe it.”

“You’re getting better,” Bernard said. “You’re talking to me now, right?” He reached up, his hands framing the sides of Tim’s face. “Can I?” he said. Tim nodded, and Bernard gently peeled the mask away from Tim’s eyes. He leaned forwards, their foreheads brushing together.

“What was that for?” Tim asked.

“I wanted to see you,” Bernard said. He moved just enough for their lips to brush together, then pulled away. “I love you too, you know,” he whispered.

Tim moved his hands up to cover Bernard’s. “Thank you,” he managed to say.

Bernard’s brows knit together. “For...”

Tim shook his head. There were so many things he wanted to say about Bernard, so many words that he could say, and yet his mind kept coming up blank. “Just for existing,” he finally said. It was the closest he could come to containing it all.

#dc comics #batfam #tim drake #bernard dowd #aj writes #fic rec

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wonder-womans-ex · 3 years

Text

‘Cause Boy I was Made for You

By wonder-womans-ex for @inloveoknutzy Sweater Weather secret santa exchange 2020

When Remus Lupin was eleven years old, he learned about soulmates.

“Almost everyone gets a soulmark on their nineteenth birthday,” Mr. Holliday, his fifth-grade teacher, had explained. “A design, like a tattoo, on their left wrist. And out there, somewhere, someone will have a matching one.

“Some people don’t get them until later—no one knows why. Some don’t get them at all. It’s rare, but some people have more than one soulmate, or their soulmate changes.

“Can anyone tell me why this might be?”

Trust a teacher to turn this into a lesson, Remus thought, and put up his hand.

“Because people change, and the person who your soul matches could change, too?”

“Very good, Mr. Lupin.”

***

When Sirius Black was eleven years old, his parents kept him home from school. Instead, they sat him down at the dining room table—which was only ever used for special occasions; he couldn’t fathom why this might be considered one—and told him three things.

“One,” Walburga said, bony fingers and long nails that reminded Sirius of talons drumming on the centuries-old wood, “your career comes first. Always. No matter who your soulmate turns out to be or how you feel about it, you are expected to make the choice that benefits yourself and your role in this family.”

“Two,” Orion put in, “you are the only person who can prove who your soulmate is. If the reality is something that puts your future or your reputation at risk, lying is the best option. Remember, listen to your head, not your wrist.”

“Three—” this was Walburga again, “—your soulmark, when you get it, will remain covered at all times. No one else is permitted to see it. Are we clear?”

Sirius nodded.

“Speak up!”

“Yes, Mother. Yes, Father.”

***

When Remus Lupin was thirteen years old, he had his first kiss. It was with a girl from his first aid course to whom he’d never really talked before, and it was wet and clumsy and didn’t taste very nice. In six years when he got his soulmark, he probably wouldn’t even remember her name.

***

When Sirius Black was thirteen years old, he fell asleep in math class twice. He’d spent the entire night practicing—under his father’s instructions, of course—and the words in the textbook began to swim in front of his eyes.

His mother slapped him across the cheek when she found out. Though he told no one for a very long time, that was when he started drinking coffee.

***

When Remus Lupin was fifteen years old, he googled what if your soulmate doesn’t love you.

***

When Sirius Black was fifteen years old, he found out what it was like to be famous. He enjoyed it, at first. There was so much to enjoy: the attention from his parents, the people who recognized him in public and smiled, and the hockey.

The hockey was everything.

He wouldn’t have thought so, but it was freeing, really, to be on the ice, doing what he loved, and know that the whole world was watching. It showed him he was enough—better than enough. He was the best. He’d been working towards being best his whole life, and now he finally got to feel good about it. What wasn’t to like about that?

Amycus Carrow, apparently. The first guy on his team to notice he was different. “Queer,” he whispered, as Sirius packed his gear up.

Sirius wasn’t sure who he was trying to prove something to by sleeping with Janie Clearwater—Amycus or himself.

***

When Remus Lupin was seventeen years old, he and his mom picked his little brother Julian up from daycare. Jules had a crude drawing of a star on his wrist in green washable marker.

“My teacher has one! So I wanted one too!”

Remus smiled, ruffling Julian’s hair.

That night, he locked his bedroom door and looked up Sirius Black. Video after video of slapshots, passes, interviews, until he finally drifted off to sleep thinking that’s the sort of person I want to be loved by.

***

When Sirius Black was seventeen years old, he had his first panic attack. He wasn’t sure what triggered it; he wasn’t sure how he pulled himself out, but he ran a thumb over the red marks where his fingernails had dug into his skin and tried not to cry.

***

When Remus Lupin was nineteen years old, everything went wrong. He woke up on his birthday to his wrist itching, and it took all his willpower not to look at it. He wasn’t quite ready yet.

It was like Schrödinger’s cat, he reasoned—if he didn’t look, he couldn’t confirm what had been nagging at the back of his head for a while now. He couldn’t deny it, either, but it was better than nothing.

Julian ran to hug him when he got downstairs, grinning to show off his gap-toothed smile. “I got you a present! Wanna know what it is?”

“I think,” Remus told him, “I’m about to find out anyway.”

Two weeks later, Fenrir Greyback approached him in the locker room.

***

When Sirius Black was nineteen years old, he found himself signed to an NHL team he wasn’t supposed to be on and with a soulmark he could make neither head nor tail of: a silver wolf and black dog, intertwined like yin and yang, two crossed hockey sticks behind them. He remembered, distantly, being told that soulmarks were meant to make sense.

The black dog was probably meant to represent him—black dog, dog black (he still hadn’t forgiven his parents for that one)—and the hockey sticks almost definitely had something to do with, well, hockey, but the wolf he had no idea about.

***

It is now that these two stories meet. There is a split second, a fraction of time, and it seems as though the whole world is holding its breath. Will their paths cross, only to continue on their separate ways? Will they travel together for a time, before they are destined to part once more?

“Hello,” says Remus, and when Sirius holds his hand out coldly, their fate is decided.

***

“Pots, c’mere a second!”

Sirius is happy, almost. He’s got the team—he’s one of them, now, really and truly, but there’s something still off. He knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to.

“I’m coming, Captain! Keep your head on!”

James comes to a stop in front of him. “Hi. What do you need?”

“Please poke Dumo.” A few of the guys chuckle, and this makes Sirius smile. He likes making other people laugh.

“What, and you needed me for that? You couldn't do it yourself?”

Finn walks into the room, then, jersey half on. “Why do it at all? What did poor old Dumo do to you, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Pascal says from where he’s sitting by his locker. “Respect your elders!”

“Elder, you say? Edging on retirement, are you?”

“Tais-toi!”

Glancing over to Remus, Sirius allows the barest flicker of a smile to pass over his face. He gets one in return.

“Alright, everyone get moving,” Coach tells them, opening the door and surveying where they’re all arranged, faces like guilty puppies. “You’re paid to play hockey, not sit on your asses and gossip. Practice starts in five minutes, or you run laps around the outside of the rink. In skates.”

Most of them groan, and Kasey downs a Powerade. “Well, boys, that’s my cue.”

James is the next to go, then Finn, then Logan. Leo and Talker continue their argument—something about George Harrison; Sirius isn’t really listening—out onto the ice, and Adam follows them with Olli and Nado close behind. Dumo winks at Sirius before he goes, too, and then it’s just the two of them.

“What did he do?” Remus asks, after Sirius has laced and relaced his left skate three times. “Dumo, I mean.”

“Nothing much. Just… well, if you must know, he put shaving cream in the fridge, once. Guess what I had on my waffles that morning.”

“Waffles aren’t on your diet plan.”

“It was last year.”

“And you waited until now to get James to poke him?”

He knows Remus can see right through him. He always can. “Never question the methods of a hockey player, Loops.”

He meant it as a joke, but Remus stiffens for some reason, jaw clenching and eyes darting away. There’s an awkward pause before Sirius says, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.”

“Right.” He clears his throat, trying in vain to find something else to say. He would be lying if he said Remus didn’t mean something to him—he knows it. But, after all, knowing something and acknowledging it are two very different things.

Sirius runs the laps.

***

That night, after practice, Remus is about to head for the bus station when Sirius steps in front of him. He’s walking backwards, even with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, and Remus isn’t ashamed to say he’s a little impressed. (From a purely objective point of view, of course. It has nothing to do with Sirius and everything to do with the skill it would take, hypothetically, to do such a thing.) (He’s not fooling anyone, least of all himself.)

“Want a lift?”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that.”

Remus rolls his eyes; he pretends to think about it. “All right,” he says, finally. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I get to choose the music.”

Sirius lets out one loud ‘ha!’ It’s the most beautiful thing Remus has heard in a long time. (That would go well: “Oh, I’ve changed my mind. No need to put on the radio, I’ll be content if you just keep laughing.”) (There’s a reason people like him are off to the side, out of sight, instead of right in the spotlight with a microphone.)

Remus is glad that Sirius waits until he’s parked outside Remus’s apartment building to bring up their earlier conversation. It says something that they say “So, about this evening—” in unison, but Remus isn’t going to think about that.

“You go first,” Sirius tells him, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Please.”

“I suppose,” Remus says, slowly, “That I haven’t quite been honest with you. Any of you. I wasn’t always a PT.”

“Of course not. You’re my age. You can’t have always worked for the Lions—before that you were a teenager. A student.”

Remus shakes his head. “No. Before that I was a player.”

“You played? Why’d you stop?”

“Bad hit,” he says, shrugging. “I’m over it. But I… I know what it’s like. The pressure. The rules. So, if you need someone to talk to… just remember—I know what the game does to a guy. You’re not the only one who’s been told to be something you aren’t by someone who forgets you’re a person off the ice, too.

“See you tomorrow, Cap. Thanks for the ride.”

***

Sirius is probably the one person in history who has managed to burn eggs without even turning the stove on.

“How on earth did that happen?” James asks when Sirius phones him.

“I dropped them into the toaster—hey! Stop laughing! It could happen to anyone!”

“Yes,” he hears from the other end of the line, “But it didn’t. It happened to you.”

It takes exactly two minutes and thirty-seven seconds after hanging up on James for Sirius to decide to call Remus. Cooking failures might not have been quite what Remus meant when he said Sirius could talk to him, but it’s the problem at hand right now.

(Remus laughs just as hard as James, but at least he has the decency to apologize for it afterwards.)

“Well,” he says, once he’s calmed down, “What are you going to eat now?”

“I’m not sure. Cereal?”

“Practice is in two and a half hours. You need more than that.”

“I’ll be—”

“If you end that sentence with ‘fine,’ I’ll take the laces out of your skates and strangle you with them. Do you want me to walk you through, I dunno, a pancake?”

“Sure. What do I need?”

“Flour, butter, eggs, milk…”

Twenty minutes later Sirius is left with milk on his shirt, flour in his hair, butter practically everywhere else, and a microwave that won’t start.

“I think,” he tells Remus, “I should have cereal.”

“You are going to eat a pancake if it’s the last thing I do—”

“Why don’t you just come over here and make it for me, then? I’m sure you’ll have more success.”

He holds his breath for a moment, hoping this wasn’t a step too far, before Remus responds. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be over in… half an hour?”

“Sounds good.”

Click.

The instant the call is over, Sirius opens the freezer and grabs one of the popsicles he secretly has stashed there. They’re not part of his diet plan, but he needs one. Then he takes a sponge and starts trying to get the butter out of the sole of his shoe.

***

The first thought that crosses Remus’s mind is that Sirius’s tongue is purple from one of the popsicles he thinks no one knows about. If Remus kissed him, he’d probably taste like grapes. (The thought is banished from his mind the moment it enters.)

“So,” he says, surveying the damage. “I am going to teach you how to make a pancake.”

Sirius, it turns out, is infinitely better at following instructions when they’re simple, and the two of them work out a system quickly. Remus makes the pancake, Sirius gets the ingredients. It works.

“That’s salt, not sugar. Try again.”

(Most of the time, at least.)

“Really?” Sirius is squinting at the package. “Why doesn’t it say so?”

“It does. Right there.”

“How am I supposed to read that?”

“You need glasses, Cap.”

“I have glasses. I just never wear them.”

“What?” This is news to Remus. Visions of Sirius with glasses and bed hair are swimming in front of his eyes. “Why?”

A shrug. “I look stupid.”

“I’m pretty sure you’d be drop-dead gorgeous in anything.”

There’s a beat of silence. Remus realizes that, yes, he said that out loud. “I mean, all those fangirls certainly seem to think so.”

“Right. Yeah.” Sirius clears his throat.

“Anyway, pancakes! I think these are almost ready to cook—can you turn on the element?”

“The what now?”

“The element? The coil on the stove?”

“Should’ve just said that in the first place,” Sirius grumbles. “Fucking Americans.”

“Fucking French.”

Suddenly, Remus has a spatula pointed at his nose. He has to cross his eyes to see it properly. “Say that again; I dare you.”

“Fucking French?”

“Awright, that’s it! En garde, bitch!”

And so begins the great whisk-vs-spatula duel of 2020. There is very little batter left once they’re done—in the bowl, at least. Most of it is on their clothes.

They look at each other. “Cereal?”

“...Cereal.”

***

Kasey’s eyes go wide—almost comically so—when they show up to practice together.

“Cap giving rides?” He says, and Sirius isn’t sure what accent he’s trying to fake but he ends up sounding like a scandalized duchess from the movie adaptation of an Austen knockoff. (Maybe that is what he was going for. It’s hard to know, with Kasey.) “I thought the day would never come.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Remus’s elbow digs into Sirius’s rib cage. “You don’t want to say that. He tried to make me shut up this morning—it’s something I’ll never recover from.”

Sirius almost laughs at the expression Remus makes when he realizes exactly how that sounds.

“He dumped pancake batter down my shirt!”

“You didn’t!” The look on James’s face is aghast. “First the eggs, now this—what will people think?”

Finn looks up from his phone. “Eggs?”

“Sirius here dropped the eggs he was going to eat for breakfast into his—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Dumo slings an arm around his shoulders. “The price you must pay for telling James to poke me yesterday. Learn from this, mon fils. Learn.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

“Treachery!”

Shrugging him off, Sirius grins. “I am the kitchen monster. Cross me and I will slaughter you in a food war.”

“Try me.” This is Logan speaking; Sirius hadn’t even realized he was there.

“You’ve been warned!”

***

“Look, there are twenty-two hockey players in this arena, and I ain’t one of them,” Moody says, and Remus can’t be sure, but he thinks Sirius looks at him.

***

“You’re favouring your right leg,” Remus comments as soon as Sirius is off the ice. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine, really—”

“I’ll try again. Want me to take a look?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Loops.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

They walk into the PT room in businesslike silence, Sirius hoping all the way that one of them will break it. Neither does, and it isn’t until Remus has taken off both his skates for him, now expertly examining his left ankle, that he realizes what he should say.

“You mentioned you played, last night.”

The finger tracing his Achilles tendon stills. “I did.”

“Were you any good?” He knows, somewhere, that he’s entering forbidden territory. He can’t bring himself to care.

“I’d like to believe so.”

“Be honest.” Sirens are blaring in his head. He keeps going.

“There were rumours…” Remus bites his lip, glances away. “People said I was set for first.”

“What? How come you never said anything? C’mon, you need to play with us sometime, just scrimmage or something—”

“Maybe. That hit…”

“Right. God, I’m sorry, Rem.”

If Remus’s Adam’s apple bobs at the nickname, Sirius doesn’t notice. He certainly doesn’t try his best not to jump to conclusions. (Double negative; that’s a yes, a voice that sounds suspiciously like James’s says in his head. Shut up, he tells it.)

“It’s fine. Really. I just don’t like talking about it. And besides, I like this. Working with the team, even if I can’t be a part of it.”

“You are. A part of the team, I mean. Just as much as I am.”

“Sure.”

There’s another awkward pause before Remus clears his throat. “So, I’m gonna put on some anti-inflammatory gel because it’s a little swollen, but don’t get used to it. I want you to keep doing some stretches, not too much pressure. Capeesh?”

“What the fuck is a capeesh?”

“Just say it.”

“...Capeesh?”

“Awesome.”

Remus leans forward towards him, their foreheads almost touching. Sirius’s breath catches.

It’s over just as suddenly. The tube of extra-strength Voltaren is in Remus’s hand, and Sirius feels stupid for thinking he was going to—

Nope. Not thinking about that.

When he feels tears start to prick at his eyes, he glances up at the fluorescent lights overhead; at least then he’ll have an excuse. There’s a moth resting on one. Its wings flutter once, twice, then go still. Fragile things, moths are—maybe it’s died, maybe it hasn’t. He could read into that, but he won’t.

He jumps when the cool of the gel on Remus’s hands touches his foot. “Hey!” He yelps, looking quickly down.

Sirius hates to succumb to cliches, but he would be lying if he was to say his heart doesn’t still.

Because Remus has pulled the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows, and his wrist is turned to the sky—to Sirius, who has seen that mark before somewhere.

Somewhere. He’s kidding himself. He’s seen it every day whenever he bothers to look at his own soulmark, and he’s seeing it again now.

“You know what, I’m fine,” he blurts out, shaking his ankle out of Remus’s grasp. “Thanks, though. See you later, Loops.”

***

Remus stays there for a second, watching Sirius leave. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, and he’s not sure he wants to.

When he gets up to leave, tossing the container towards the first aid kit on the bench and allowing himself a small smile when it lands perfectly inside, blood rushes to his head. He closes his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And then he crashes into Finn.

“Whoa, sorry,” Remus says, stumbling backwards.

“Nah, don’t stress it. There’s just something I want you to check on.”

Remus is hit by a sense of deja vu. He wonders if Finn, too, is going to leave without explanation. He follows him back into the PT room, Finn gesturing for him to lock the door.

Though he may be the shorter of the two, Remus knows it’s his job to be the bigger person. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Finn waits another moment before yanking one sleeve up to reveal three paw prints, each no bigger than a thumbnail, clustered together—one forest green, one golden, and one a deep navy blue.

“Your soulmark.” Remus doesn’t understand. “What? Is something wrong?”

“There’s three of them,” Finn says. “Which means there’s three of us.”

“You have two soulmates?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, Finn. It may not be common, but it’s not unheard of. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.”

“It’s not that. It’s… hey, you can’t tell anyone this, okay?”

“I know. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?”

“Right.” Finn takes a breath, squeezing his eyes closed. “What if I told you I know who they are? Or I think I do?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

“Well, I’d ask you if they knew.”

“And I’d say I don’t think so. One of them’s pretty stubborn—wouldn’t see love if it stood up on the ice and sang the national anthem—and the other isn’t nineteen yet, so he doesn’t—I mean wouldn’t—have his mark yet.”

“His?”

Finn’s eyes widen. There is a pause before he nods, slowly. “Yeah. Got a problem?”

“Trust me, I’m the last person on earth who’d have a problem with something like that. Hypothetically.”

This, at least, earns Remus a smile. “Are you…?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Another pause. “What if I told you, still hypothetically, that they were both on the team?”

“Then I’d say get the fuck out of here and win them over before they start thinking you’ve forgotten about them.”

Finn, smiling ear to ear, starts to leave. “Wait,” he says, hand on the doorknob. “You said you were…”

“Gay.”

“Yeah. Do—do you know who your soulmate is?”

Remus opens his mouth to say ‘no.’ He really does. But what comes out—when he takes into account the look of recognition on Sirius’s face when Remus had his sleeves rolled up; the understanding that had passed between them outside Remus’s building (god, that was just last night); the way they’ve always just clicked—is most certainly not ‘no.’

“Oh, fuck, I think I do,” he says, and he and Finn run out into the hallway together.

Sirius’s car is pulling out of the parking lot when Remus arrives, out of breath, at the front doors of the arena.

“I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry.” Remus jumps. He hadn’t heard James come to stand beside him. “Just packed up his gear at the speed of light and left. Didn’t even shower; he said he’d do it at home.”

So Sirius had been so appalled—disgusted, even—at Remus being his soulmate that he’d left without explanation, with barely even a goodbye. There was a pleasant thought.

He turns so his back is against the door, sliding slowly down to sit on the floor.

“Y’know,” James says, sitting next to him, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you needed a hug.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Remus says, “James?”

“Yeah?”

“I need a hug.”

James gives the best hugs. Everyone says so. But until now, Remus has never been on the receiving end of a true James Potter hug—warm, strong, and friendly as hell. (“I want that on a t-shirt,” James says when Remus tells him so.)

But eventually, James has to go, too, and Remus heads back to the PT room. He passes Logan in the hall, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Maybe it’s Finn’s doing; he had mentioned that one of them was oblivious. Logan, Remus knows, is the definition of oblivious.

***

“And I think that’s all,” Coach Weasley says, glancing around, “Unless anyone else has something to say? Moody? Cap? Loops?”

“Actually, yes,” says Remus after a moment. “Checkups! Not naming names but Kris lied about his rib acting up so now all of you get to be interrogated.”

Sirius swallows. He’s not anxious to be alone with Remus; not after yesterday. There’s no way there aren’t going to be questions.

Kasey goes first, Remus taking just under five minutes to deem him ‘good to go.’ Kris, surprisingly, is only kept for eight, despite the claim of his ribs acting up again. Finn takes the longest—fifteen minutes—and as soon as he’s out he grabs Logan and Leo by the wrists and marches them off somewhere. Sirius’s turn comes last, right after Pascal’s, who gives him a knowing look as he enters.

“Hi,” Remus says, first aid kit nowhere in sight. “Sit down.”

“Where?” Sirius gets only a shrug in response.

He hesitates a moment, then sits on the floor, picking at the sole of his sneaker.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks suddenly.

“Fine. Ankle’s not bothering me any more.”

“No, I mean how are you feeling?”

Scoffing, he starts to stand up. “I’m not doing this.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Sirius Black, sit your ass back down before I make you.”

Sirius sits his ass back down.

“Good. Now, how are you feeling?”

“I’m… confused,” he says, trying to be honest without being specific. “And nervous. And I cried myself to sleep last night, which I haven’t done since I was like seventeen, so there’s that. But mostly I’m just really fucking mad.”

“At me.” It isn’t a question.

“No, not at you! At me! At the—” he gestures wildly. “—Universe, or whatever. Can I go now?”

Remus doesn’t even acknowledge his request. “So you’re disappointed.”

“...Yeah.”

“May I ask why?”

“I’m pretty sure you fucking know why.”

“Maybe I do. But I’d like you to explain it to me.”

The stupid thing is that Sirius wants to talk about it. He really does. And Remus is the only person he can conceivably talk about it to. But he still chokes on his words when he says, anger burning his throat, “It was never supposed to be like this.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Sirius practically screams. “Stop trying to fucking— psychoalalyze me or something, for fuck’s sake. You fucking asked, and I—” He tears his fingers through his hair, feeling his chest start to constrict. “Just stop talking!”

The echoes of his shouts fade out too quickly, and the only thing worse than the voices is the sound of his breathing getting faster and faster. Remus’s hand twitches, as though he wants to touch him but thinks better of it.

“It was always supposed to be someone different. Someone faceless; nameless. Someone I could run away from. I can’t fucking run away from you, Remus.

“I always thought I could lie. That I could—pretend, or something. Just keep hiding. It was supposed to be someone I could hide from, because I’ve spent my whole life fucking hiding and that’s all I know how to do. It was never supposed to be someone I could fall in love with.”

There’s a choked noise from where Remus is sitting on the bench, but nothing else. Sirius refuses to look at him.

“And I just—I just fucking hate this, because all I’ve been told is that hockey comes before my dreams. And that’s made sense until now because until now hockey was my dream, but now there’s you. Yeah.”

Remus, to his credit, waits until Sirius’s breathing has calmed down and he’s furiously wiped the tears from his eyes to speak. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean forget everything. Forget your family, forget the team, forget me—what do you need?

“Right now? For the rest of my life? Because those are two very different things.”

“Let’s start with now. Can I do anything for you? Can you do anything for yourself?”

“I need a hot chocolate.”

***

They wait until everyone else has gone, and then make their way outside to Sirius’s car. There’s only one other in the parking lot—a grey Toyota Remus thinks belongs to Nado, or maybe Kris. He’s not sure why he thinks it matters, because it doesn’t.

Silence hangs around them the whole four blocks to the nearest Tim Horton’s. Inhale; exhale. Inhale; exhale. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

That doesn’t stop Remus from hoping.

He knows it’s wrong; of course he does. It’s Sirius’s choice, in the end, because Sirius is the one who will be most affected. His career, his life—all on the line if he decides to trust whatever plan the world has in store for them. It’s not like that for Remus. Not anymore.

There’s a parking spot right outside the front door. Sirius pulls into it, but he doesn’t get out right away. He glances around, makes sure there’s no one immediately in sight, and then he looks down to where his hands now rest in in his lap. Slowly, he pulls up his right sleeve to expose, bit by bit, his soulmark.

“I don’t know why I never guessed it could be you—Wolfy McWolf Wolf.”

Remus feels his lips twitch upwards into something resembling a smile. “I could say the same, Dog Black.”

When he puts his hand on the console, Sirius rests his on top of it. It’s not much.

But it’s something.

***

Sirius looks longingly at the Boston cream doughnuts. “Please. I haven’t had one in so long.”

“Think again, Mr. I’m-on-a-diet-plan.”

He’s not surprised. What was he thinking, having his PT as his soulmate? (Well, he wasn’t. He didn’t get to choose. But, he thinks to himself, the point still stands.)

“I’ll have a medium hot chocolate, please, a plain toasted bagel,” Remus looks at him and sighs. “...And a Boston cream doughnut.”

When the food is set down on the pickup counter, Remus snatches it before Sirius has a chance to. “Hey, this is my doughnut.”

Sirius pouts.

“You’re cute. Here.” He tosses him the brown paper bag, and Sirius removes his prize carefully. He‘s going to eat every piece of chocolate glazing if it kills him.

Back out in the car—this is a conversation neither of them is willing to have in the public dining area—Remus chews on his bagel thoughtfully. Sirius tries and fails not to swear when his hot chocolate burns his tongue.

“Shit!”

Remus glances over at him. Their eyes meet for a moment, then both look away. “So,” Sirius says after a while. “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah.”

Silence, then—

“You go first,” they say at the same time, and laugh. Some of the tension is broken.

Sirius reaches hesitantly to where Remus’s arm rests between the seats. He doesn’t need to voice his question—Remus sees it in his eyes; nods.

Up close, he can see that there are a few differences between their marks. Nothing that could possibly mean they aren’t soulmates—just the discolouring on the dog’s tail; the angle of one of the sticks; the faded white gash that stretches from one side of Remus’s wrist to the other, separating the wolf’s head from its body. Sirius doesn’t quite know what he’s doing when he presses his lips to the scar.

When he looks up, he sees that Remus is trying not to cry. And that’s when he makes his decision.

“I want this,” he says, voice soft but sure. “All of it.”

#sweater weather lumosinlove #coops #soulmate au #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sweater weather secret santa #tw: panic attack

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cherrehx · 3 years

Note

okay so its 2am right now and I just thought of something really cute hhhh, so basically, how would kaminari, kirishima, todoroki and bakugou react to finding ship art or something of them and their crush?? I love your writing btw, it's so awesome 💕💕

super long wait, i know. half of this was written when bnha was still my hyperfixation, hence why it's one shots. the headcanons were written now, because i felt bad leaving out denki and eijirou. -cherry

katsuki bakugō:

it was just after nine in the afternoon. katsuki had already gone to sleep as per usual, though tonight he was rudely interrupted by loud knocking on his room's door.

"the hell do you want, loser?!", he shouted, still unsure of who was even at his door. everyone knew by now not to disturb him, so who dared to do so anyways?

getting out of bed and proceeding to open the door, the ash blond was slightly less angered when he saw eijirou standing there. said red head looked frantic because of something. bakugou honestly didn't even want to know what had got him so distraught, but he knew he wouldn't get his well deserved sleep otherwise,

"spit it out, shitty hair."

"we were looking at pictures from the sports festival online and we found something that you should maybe see for yourself!", eijirou started, realizing that he wasn't getting his friend's attention, so he added, "it's about you and (y/n)!"

kirishima was the only one that knew about bakugou's secret crush on you. that's why he wasn't laughing like everyone else in the common room; because what they found may cause complications.

after kirishima had mentioned your name, bakugou was swiftly jogging towards where almost all of his class was sitting gathered around a laptop, which seemed to be mina's, judging by all the leopardy and pink stickers on it.

"out of the way extras!", katsuki stomped over to see what all the fuss was about. from the corner of his eye he saw how you were cowering next to one of the couches, face covered by your hands. at first he couldn't understand why, but when he saw a particular piece of artwork displayed on the laptop screen, he figured you were just majorly embarrassed.

the art that his class found on google was from somebody's blog that was all about the 'heroes of the future!'. needless to say, the blog didn't only deal with the heroes, but also the relationships of them. ever since an encounter at the sports festival that a lot of people saw and shared around, you and bakugou had become a popular so called ship. (the girls explained that 'ship' didn't mean anything related to boats when they teased you about mentioned moment in front of him.)

katsuki couldn't help but feel embarrassed himself, but he also had to keep his cool to not seem suspicious. looking at the drawing of you and him one more time, the ash blond walked over to you, ignoring anything his class was saying.

"(y/n), you ok?", he crouched down to your level, poking your head once. his only response was a quiet hum, followed by a hiccup. worried, katsuki grabbed your hand tightly and pulled you outside the dorm.

the air was nice, not too hot, nor too cold. a light wind was blowing as the moon shone brightly.

bakugou gave you a little space and some time to calm down. when you did, he was quick to ask,

"what's the matter? did you get THAT embarrassed by it?"

you shook your head no. it was something more, but was this the right time to tell him?

"i was really embarrassed at first.", you started, "but then i thought about something and cried."

"about what?", the usually loud boy asked softly. silence was all he got for a good minute until you finally responded,

"you know how they say 'life imitates art'? i really wish it w-was like that..."

now you were the one getting silence as a response. did you really just say that?

"idiot, being all cryptic and shit.", katsuki tried to stay calm, even if he was freaking out on the inside, "if you want a kiss you can have it."

shōto todoroki:

mr. aizawa's classes had a pretty strict schedule most of the time: first the class would get an assignment, that they'd do until said teacher falls asleep. after that, everyone would quietly - in order to not wake up aizawa - do anything they want, really.

for shouto this was more or less just plainly boring, as he was one of the few students that actually did what they had to. he'd finish his work and then wait, because he had nothing else to do. he was most likely to bother midoriya, but today he was very into whatever he was writing down in his little book. so shouto settled for observing the classmates behaviour. well, rather your behaviour.

the half and half boy knew it was weird, but he liked watching you. he liked seeing you, especially when you were happy and smiling. todoroki knew what these 'symptoms' were, but he wanted everything to stay as it was for now.

why he had caught those feelings, he didn't know. he figured it was the way you stood out. you didn't get lost in between the others and he liked that.

while todoroki was deep in thought, ashido had walked over to your desk, where you were doing the assignment in peace and quiet,

"(y/n), look! the other's and i thought about how todoroki always stares at you so intensely, so we created these shipnames! which one do you like better?"

you looked at the paper or rather the newly created words and little pictures drawn by some of your classmates and immediately turned red. flailing your hands around a little, you lied,

"none of these, i don't...like todoroki in that way."

mina looked a tad upset at that, but she understood, nodded and walked back to her table. you sort of felt bad, having killed her excitement, but you didn't need anyone knowing about your secret crush on the stoic one.

speaking of the stoic one, he couldn't hear anything you and mina had talked about. he only saw her walking over, showing you something and you freaking out and sending her away. needless to say, he was curious what had caught you off guard so much. when shouto saw mina throwing away that suspicious piece of paper, he decided to look at it when class ended. even if he thought sticking his hand in the trash was a little gross.

the end of class came sooner than expected. shouto was packing his bag slower than usual, waiting until everyone had left. after they did, he skipped over to the trash can, pulling out the latest addition: a piece of paper that embarrassed (y/n)!

he stuffed it in his bag and carried on walking to his dorm room, where he finally felt safe looking at it, " 'ship names'? why would they want to name a boat after (y/n) and i?", he asked himself, before a certain doodle on the page explained your reaction and the girls' name-mixing. even shouto couldn't help but react in some way, thinking about said doodle happening in real life. that's when he got startled by a knock on his door.

"hey, todoroki. i know you always do your work in class, so i thought i'd come and ask you about...", you drifted off, seeing the light blush on his cheeks and his fire side burning, "...umm, am i interrupting something?"

he was hiding a piece of paper behind his back. you could see just the corner of it, but that was enough for you to identify what paper it was.

"didn't take you for the nosey type.", you akwardly laughed in order to drown out your embarrassment.

"sorry, i got curious.", he looked unusually upset, averting his heterochromatic eyes and letting his arms drop on his sides. you confirmed the paper was indeed the one that mina showed you earlier.

"did you dislike it a lot?", shouto asked without thinking.

now it was your turn to blush.

denki kaminari:

-ok hear me out

-his love language has to be physical touch

-so naturally, when you guys and the rest of the bakusquad had a sleepover, you cuddled

-platonically of course (even though both of you had feelings for one another, but shh)

-oh, but mina couldn't let this one slip

-she HAD to take a picture

-in the morning, when you were still only half awake, mina ecstatically showed her phone into your face

-"LOOK, (Y/N), YOU GUYS ARE THE CUTEST!"

-queue embarrassed (y/n) and denki

eijirō kirishima:

-i feel like with him, you had been like childhood friends

-and back in the day, you guys were all like

-"i'm gonna marry you when i'm older!"

-so you engraved a little "eijirō & (y/n)" into a tree

-years and years later you guys go back to that spot

-just because you wanted to reminisce the good old days

-you guys find the carvings

-"you know, (y/n), i still haven't changed my mind."

-"what do you mean, eijirou?"

-"i'd still marry you."

#headcanons #eijirou kirishima x reader #one shots #katsuki bakugou x reader #denki kaminari x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #x reader #shōto todoroki #eijirō kirishima #katsuki bakugō #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha x reader #fanfiction

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fruitquake · 3 years

Text

realizations pt. 2

part one

read it on ao3

Regulus Black knows he doesn’t like girls. He wishes he did. It would make everything so much easier. But at some point, you have to accept that maybe you aren’t just a late bloomer. Maybe it isn’t just that you “haven’t found the right girl yet”. Maybe it’s just who you are.

Aside from knowing he definitely doesn’t like girls, though, it’s all very confusing. It seemed like a logical conclusion that if he doesn’t like girls, he must like boys.

But then, James Potter kissed him, and he’s pretty sure that if he were gay, it would’ve felt… special. Or it would’ve felt like anything at all. But rather, it felt exactly the same as kissing girls: uncomfortably and wetly smashing your mouths together. He didn’t say any of this to James. He didn’t say anything, actually, just left with what he knows was a terribly transparent excuse. Now, he’s in his room, sitting on the floor and staring out of the window at the few stars visible through the clouds.

Is there something wrong with him? The question has been echoing in his mind since the kiss. Well, really, it’s been there long before, but he has managed to ignore it well enough before today. It was easy to push it to the back of his mind, and tell himself that he would figure it out eventually and it didn’t really matter.

But… He kissed James. James Potter, the guy who half the girls - and several guys - are utterly enamoured by. James Potter, who is objectively very handsome. And surely, if he were gay, kissing him would’ve felt… good? How is kissing supposed to feel? Regulus has tried it a few times by now, and it has never been the enjoyable experience that people make it out to be.

He is typing the words into google before he even registers having taken his phone out. Is kissing supposed to feel good?

Most of the search results are clinical, detached articles, explaining the biological and social reasons as to why humans like kissing. Until he stumbles upon a blog post on one of those ask-and-answer forums.

Anonymous: need advice!! my friends are constantly going on about their crushes and the people they’ve been with, how much they love kissing, all that stuff. and i just can’t relate at all. i’ve kissed a few boys, and once a girl too, and i don’t understand the hype at all? i’ve never really had a crush on anyone either, i think. all that kissing and dating and sex stuff just seem like a waste of time to me. is there something wrong with me? am i broken or something?

Regulus’s heart stutters as he reads the post through. He… relates to most of it. Is there something wrong with me? It’s the same question that’s been ringing loud and clear through his head since the kiss.

The comments are mostly stuff like “just wait til you’re older” and “you’ll get it when you meet the right person”, and Reg feels his stomach sink. Is that really it? He’s supposed to sit around and wait for “the right person” to come into his life and… fix him? He thinks about James again. James, who is kind and funny and one of his favourite people in the entire world. But kissing him didn’t feel right. It hasn’t felt right with anyone.

But then his eyes catch on another comment on the person’s post: you should look into the terms asexual and aromantic. i don’t think there’s anything wrong with you or that you are broken, but if you don’t have an interest in romance/sex it could be because you’re ace and/or aro.

Asexual and aromantic. Regulus googles both terms, spends hours reading through articles and blog posts and people sharing their experiences, and for the first time in his life he feels… seen. He hadn’t realized how lonely he felt, before discovering that he isn’t alone.

It’s a lot to take in. A lot of thoughts and questions and answers swirling in Regulus’s head. He really, really wants to talk to someone about all of this. But first of all, it’s 3 AM. Secondly, who?

James is… kinda the whole reason he’s having this sexuality crisis to begin with. He is certain he would’ve figured it out anyway at some point, but it’s thanks to James that he is up in the middle of the night, buried in research about his own identity. He doesn’t think he can talk to James about all this. At least not yet.

Then there’s Sirius. Regulus doesn’t know if he would understand. He feels some of that familiar loneliness creep up on him again. He and Sirius are finally close again. After years of division and hurt and pretending the other doesn’t exist, they have a relationship that’s actually good, and Regulus doesn’t want to ruin it. What if Sirius doesn’t understand or doesn’t accept him? He can’t lose his brother again. He doesn’t have anyone else.

Should he just… not tell anyone, then? Perhaps that is best, at least for now, he thinks. If no one knows, no one can judge him for it or tell him that it’s wrong or that his experiences aren’t real. He nods to himself, settling back into bed. It’s better if no one knows.

Regulus doesn’t get any sleep that night. Not that he really expected to. He spends the next day dozing off in class and avoiding James. Both are working out great for him until he starts awake, feeling a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He sits up straight on his chair and squints as he looks around. The classroom is empty, except for him and-

“Sorry, did I wake you?” James asks. He's standing beside Regulus’s desk, looking down at him with something like concern.

“S’fine,” Regulus mumbles, stifling a yawn.

James sits on top of the desk next to Regulus’s. “You look tired,” he says. “Are you okay?”

Regulus still doesn’t know how to react to people showing him genuine concern. It’s not something he’s really used to. “I’m fine,” he says, perhaps a bit too forcefully. He stands up, almost knocking over his chair in the process, and starts quickly packing up his things.

“Hey, uh,” James says, nervously messing up his hair in that way he does. “There’s something we should probably talk about.”

The kiss. Reg was desperately hoping James would pretend it never happened. He slings his bag over one shoulder and starts towards the door. “I’m sorta in a rush.”

James stands up. “Reg, please,” he says. “I… I really need to talk to you about it. Please.”

Regulus sighs, but stops in the doorway. “We don’t have to,” he says in an almost pleading tone, turning around to face James. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t understand.” James looks at him with big doe eyes. “Reg, it matters to me.”

He regards James for a while, before nodding, signalling for him to say whatever it is he wants to say.

James takes a deep breath. “So, er… The thing about the kiss,” he begins, fidgeting nervously with the strap of his bag. “It sorta… made me realize something? About myself?”

Regulus has never seen him this nervous. He waits in silence for him to go on.

“Shit,” James mumbles, rubbing his face with his hands. “I feel like I’ve rehearsed this conversation all day, but now I just, like… Have no idea what to say.” He takes another deep breath. “Screw it, I’m just gonna say it, okay? I really fucking liked that kiss and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and also I’m bisexual.” It comes out as a quick string of words with no pause for James to breathe - or for Reg to interrupt him.

James looks at him; nervous, expectant, awaiting. But Regulus really doesn’t know what to say. He feels a tight knot in his stomach. “Oh,” he finally manages.

“Ah, shit,” James says frantically. “That’s right, there was something else I was gonna say, something important. I, er… I completely get it if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t want this to ruin our friendship, because I really care about you and I don’t wanna lose you. I just… really needed to get this off my chest.”

He sounds so genuine. Of course he does, Reg thinks and feels stupid. When has James ever been anything but genuine, honest and loyal? When has he ever judged Reg or turned his back on him for anything? James knows him better than he allows most people to, and if there’s anyone Reg can talk to about this, it’s him.

“There’s something I need to get off my chest too,” Regulus says quietly.

James’s eyes widen. “Oh? What is it?”

Reg sets down his bag and goes to sit by the desk opposite James. He doesn’t look at him as he starts talking. “I’m aroace. I don’t experience… that kind of attraction. Romantic or sexual. It’s… not exactly that the kiss made me realize it. Or maybe it did. But I kinda already knew. I just… wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, I suppose? Also I didn’t really know the word for it. But… yeah, that’s who I am and I can’t do anything to change that, just as you can’t change the fact that you’re bi, so… I hope you won’t hate me now.”

When James stays quiet, Regulus forces himself to look up. James is looking at him with an unreadable expression, and Reg’s stomach drops. This was a terrible idea. He should’ve known he couldn’t tell anyone. He has ruined everything. James opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Reg has pushed out his chair and is walking toward the door with swift steps.

“Nevermind,” he says, ignoring the stinging of tears in his eyes.

“Reg, wait!”

“Forget everything I just said.”

James finds him rather quickly, at the area behind the school that’s nearly hidden with shrubs. It’s where he comes when he needs to be alone, and he knows it’s also where Sirius comes to smoke.

Regulus is sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk, not caring if his clothes get dirty. James sits down about a meter away from him, but doesn’t speak, so Regulus is the one to break the silence:

“Are you upset because of my sexuality or because I don’t have feelings for you?” he asks. His voice is harsher than he meant it to be, but at least it’s not shaking.

James draws in a sharp breath, turning to face him. “I’m not upset at all!” he exclaims. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

He’s… not upset? Regulus clears his throat. “Well,” he mumbles. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I’m sorry,” James says earnestly. “I didn’t really know what to say. And you didn’t exactly give me a lot of time to think before you stormed off.”

Now Reg feels like he’s the one who should apologize. He doesn’t, though. Just stares straight ahead at the shrubs surrounding them.

“I’m really sorry I made you feel this way, Reg,” James says softly. “I promise I’m not upset. I care about you. A lot. And I, er… I may not know that much about this stuff, but I’m gonna do research on it so I can support you the best I can, because I care about-” He cuts himself off. “No, wait, I already said that part,” he mumbles, laughing nervously.

Reg smiles at him. “You hate doing research,” he says. “You avoid it like the plague.”

James laughs again. “Shut up, you wanker,” he says, shoving him gently. “This is different!”

He scoots a bit closer, putting his hand on Regulus’s shoulder. “But really,” he says, his tone more serious now. “I support you one hundred percent. You’ll always be family to me. So if you want, we can just forget all about that kiss.”

“But…” Reg looks up at him. “The kiss did mean something to you, didn’t it?”

James considers this for a moment. “I mean… it was a good kiss. And it did sorta… force me to come to terms with my sexuality. But what really means something to me is you, Reg, and our friendship. I don’t wanna lose that, ever. So… do I maybe have a teeny tiny crush on you? Yeah, I think I might, but it’s honestly no big deal. It won’t change anything between us, I promise.”

He holds out his pinky finger, and it takes Regulus several moments to realize what he’s doing. He holds up his own pinky and laces it with James’s.

“I just realized, I’m kind of an asshole,” he says after a bit. “I practically dismissed your coming out because I was so worried about my own.”

“Oh.” James chuckles. “Mate, don’t worry about it. I completely understand.”

“If you want, you can tell me again and I will try to react better,” Reg offers.

James shakes his head, amused. “I… alright,” he says, grinning. “Regulus?”

“Yes?”

“I’m bisexual.”

Reg smiles at him. “Oh, okay!” he says, acting as though it’s the first he’s hearing of this. “That’s lovely. I’m very happy for you. And… obviously, I support you, and I care about you a lot, too.”

James’s grin grows wider. “Thank you,” he says.

They sit quietly for a while, before James speaks again:

“Do you wanna come over today? Mum is making pancakes for dessert. And we can play Mario Kart.”

Regulus groans, but can’t quite suppress a smile. “Ugh, I don’t wanna play Mario Kart against you. You always win. I swear you’re cheating, somehow.”

“How would I cheat at Mario Kart?” James asks with a laugh.

Reg shrugs, crossing his arms. “I don’t know, but I don’t wanna play with you either way.”

“Okay, well… You can play against Sirius? Or you two can team up and try to beat me together,” James suggests, nudging his shoulder. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And pancakes.”

“Fine,” Reg says, as if he wasn’t going to say yes from the beginning. “But only because of the pancakes.”

James nods solemnly. “That’s fair,” he says, and Reg tries not to smile like an idiot, but it’s hard not to because at least for now, all of the worries and doubts swirling in his chest have been driven away by a warm, relieved feeling.

“James?” he says.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t actually know what to say, so he just wraps his arms around James and pulls him into a hug. James hugs him back tightly, and Regulus feels incredibly lucky to have a friend like him.

#regulus black #james potter #marauders #marauders era #muggle au #modern au #fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #bisexual james potter #aroace regulus black

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juseki-taisen · 3 years

Text

How about how the 12 warriors celebrate V-Day? (Bonus challenge being Doudecuple and Navi)

Thank you for the request @gale-dragon-writer

This was a long one! I hope you guys like!

Inounoshishi

Without S/O

This wouldn’t happen, let’s be real. If it did she planned this by choice, so she’s probably busy kicking ass and taking names...and numbers

Probably prowls bars for lonely men/women/they’s ect to buy her drinks.

Never pays for any food or drink of Valentines. She’s hot af and knows it

It’s 50/50 if she’s going to go home with someone

With S/O

Expects to be spoiled. Please spoil her

Despite her immense wealth, she doesn’t expect you to buy her expensive things. She can do that herself. What she’d really like is for a gift that’s full of thought.

If you make her a gift, she’ll play it off but she secretly loves it. It doesn’t matter how shitty it is. If you make her a cute boar figure out of clay and it’s lopsided, but you tried hard and painted it her favorite color, it’s going on her mantel in the living room.

Spoils you too. You will drown in gifts and kisses. Don’t worry, she uses amazing lipstick and it doesn’t stick to your face.

Dotsuku

Without S/O

Spends the day giving candy to the children.

Secretly gives his daughter a secret admirer letter, her confidence SKY ROCKETS

Decorates his classroom

This man is great at help kids learn about consent. No pulling pigtails, and if a boy likes a girl and she tells him no, he makes sure he knows not to keep bugging her. Same thing with the girls. If a boy doesn’t like them they’re not allowed to keep bugging them either.

Watches cute love movies with his daughter. He’s her prince charming.

With S/O

You better believe he has you help decorate his classroom

You make cute paper hearts and pick out candy

The kids leave you valentines

He takes you to dinner. His daughter comes too. You guys have a lot of fun. He buys you and his daughter a dessert. Somehow she eats here and half of yours

Snuggles on the couch and a cute movie.

Niwatori

Without an S/O

Doesn’t celebrate

She doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal

Indulges the day after on discount candy

With an S/O

Help her

She wants to celebrate but she’s in Ushii level awkward when it comes to doing anything

Picks the most popular movie out, watches it, and THAT is the basis for her whole idea

Gets you candy. Wears a cute dress. Picks a place to eat. Buys you roses, or do you get her roses? She’ll get them for you...just in case

Candy? Candy. Lots of candy.

Any small thing you get her she’s going to love. She never has really gotten gifts, and one out of love is a gift she’ll treasure forever

If you do get her flowers, she’s going to press them or dry them and keep them forever

Sharyu

Without an S/O

She had a fiancé for what seemed like forever, so a day without one is kind of difficult for her

She’s happy she’s alone, because she’s happy with who she is and now doesn’t have anyone to try and fit her into a mold that she didn’t belong

Kind of mopes though. She wants romance and someone who loves her for who she is and everything she does

Drinks hot coco and eats an ungodly amount of chocolate

With an S/O

So. Excited.

She cooks all day and makes cake, dinner, and everything else from scratch

You get her gifts and feel like it’s still not enough

Honestly? It doesn’t matter what you get her. She just love shaving you around and knowing how much you care for her for who she is

PLEASE slow dance with her in the kitchen while you’re doing the dishes. She’ll remember it forever

Hitsujii

Without an S/O

Hangs out at home

Waiting for the candy to go on sale

Babysits for his child so they can have a romantic evening

Watches random shows on TV, but avoids romance stuff

With an S/O

Still wants to hang out at home, but will go out if you want

Uses this as an excuse to DESTROY the candy aisle

Gets you flowers, they’re not red roses because that’s pretty expensive, but he gets cute ones...and a bear

Snuggles and falling asleep to bad rom coms on TV

Uuma

Without an S/O

Spends it alone

He wishes he had someone, but he’s alright for the most part

Okay he’s not

He’s a big softie inside and somewhat romanticizes the holiday more than he should

Eats cake...and chocolate

With an S/O

The man goes WILD

Roses everywhere

Candlelight

A romantic dinner he made meticulously after practicing for weeks

Remakes the titanic ship in a bottle, with you two as the figures on the front of the ship

He loves any gift you get him. He cries. He tries not to, but he does.

He writes you a poem he gets to embarrassed to read. You get it in a card.

Takeyasu

Without an S/O

Steals everything with his brother

Necklaces, candy, and even flowers just so he can light them on fire

Doesn’t think much of the holiday, never has. It’s stupid.

With an S/O

He’s awkward. He doesn’t know how to celebrate the holiday

He gets you the basics, candy, a bear, and flowers. That’s it right?

Oh wait, you wanna do something? Uh, can a theme park be romantic?

You have a lot of fun actually, and when inevitably he lights part of it on fire, he has stuff for smores.

You save the picture from the tunnel of love. You managed to snap it before he lit it on fire. The tunnel was the point of origin.

Later on down the road he plans more stuff. He may also use fireworks to do your name in the air or something

Steals you a car.

Nagayuki

Without an S/O

Steals stuff with his brother

Gets entirely to many snacks

Does anything but Holiday stuff

With an S/O

Doesn’t want to do anything, but will because you ask him

Takes you for dinner, and he enjoys spending time with you, but because social convention is making him he’s grumpy about it

If you’re the kind of person who is easily embarrassed, he may send you cheesy emails with stupid valentines cards

Chocolate and all KINDS of snacks

Later on down the line he’ll plan more romantic stuff, and buy you nice things with real money so you know he cares

Usagi

Without an S/O

He likes the Holiday and wants someone to do it with SOOOO BAD

Watches all those cute movies and cheesy rom coms

Has a “Friend” he takes out on a date

It doesn’t go well

With an S/O

Oh boy. He’s SO HAPPY

He gets you everything. Flower, roses (ignore the blood it’s fine), and he lets you know he’s arrived to pick you up by having his friends hold him high while he has a boom box playing your favorite song. Even if it’s metal. Even if he thinks the holiday begins at midnight. Your neighbors wont care, right?

You will go to ALL the cheesy stuff. Cute rides at a theme park, which somehow gets burned down later on thanks to someone (Takeyasu)

A dinner and flowers, chocolate. SO MUCH CANDY. He even likes the terrible heart ones. He made you a box filled with ones that have saying that remind him of you

Cuddles, kisses, and smooches that just...don’t stop. Even in public. You gotta tell him to tone it down.

Tora

Without an S/O

Drinks, and mopes

She doesn’t really want to date, but seeing other people happy kinda rubs it in when you’re single

Partakes in day after candy sales

She actually avoids the bars, to many couples being happy and cute

Angrily eats snacks

With an S/O

She doesn’t expect much, other than maybe being one of those annoying couples who steals Every. Booth. In. The. Restaurant.

Please get her presents. Please. She’ll get really happy and flustered

This girl will actually try and make you chocolate from scratch. Sharyu helps. She even wraps them in a cute wrapping paper she draws herself

It’s pretty casual and after bar hopping you spend it at home. You’re with her so she cuts back so she’s not sloshed. She wants to remember being with you.

So many cute kisses.

Hand holding. It still gets her flustered.

Please get your picture taken at some point. She’ll put it by her bed and fall asleep smiling

Ushii

Without an S/O

There’s a Holiday?

He guess he noticed it was harder than normal to get a table for his favorite restaurant

Doesn’t really like sweets so the holiday just annoys him

So many people confess to him and he’s just like “Okay. Cool. Thanks”

With an S/O

He’s not great with the holiday. He’s smart though, so he tries to research what to do

Googles top ten most romantic gesture, luckily has the sense not to propose

Gets you candy, roses, and all the stereotypical stuff

You have to tell him to relax, because all the stuff he’s saying is regurgitated rom com lines

When he does relax, he’s actually really sweet. Stupidly sweet actually.

“I don’t need a holiday to tell me you’re important, you’re already always on my mind, but the candy is nice I guess”

Will watch whatever you want. Is always confused by romance movies, but oh BOY does he love going out to eat with you. Hell. Yes. The desserts are amazing and now he gets to share them with you

Care you a card. It’s ugly, but he tries

Gets you a really cute necklace. It has a small ox on it, so he can always be with you.

Nezumi

Without an S/O

Eats candy and sleeps. It’s no different than any other day, other than people piss him off more.

He doesn’t like how weird people get

They also made out on his locker...and he needed his textbook. Please....Let him get his books

With an S/O

Uses his paths so much that he passes out and HARD CORE NAPS before you go out

Has the perfect gift.

Plays co op video games with you

He doesn’t like people, so you get take out and stay home

You watch movies, but they’re movies like Princess Bride, Warm Bodies, and love stories that aren’t so normal and are more fun

If you’re LGBT he goes out of his way to find a good movie ahead of time, because he loves and supports you and this day is about you two damn it! (The other’s would try to do this for their S/O, but would have a harder time. since most of them are not great with technology like Nezumi is)

So much candy and snacks

Selfies and filters

You fall asleep together and nap

get him a gift. He’ll know it’s coming but it still makes him happy

BONUS CHALLENGE

Doudecuple

Without an S/O

Doesn’t do a whole lot. Has wine and watches the mortals below

Maybe messes with people just a bit to amuse himself

Does his own thing. He really doesn’t care for the holiday

With an S/O

Wine and a dessert charcuterie board

Gets you an expensive gift, but practical. A coat, a scarf. Something to keep you warm and cozy you can use everyday and think of him.

Makes the impossible possible. A romantic setting with only a few people

Getting the tickets for some play or show the last minute

Please do something cheesy, it’ll amuse him, and he’ll secretly keep it

ON THE FLIP SIDE

He may get a gift from you, then anyone who goes in his office will see it.

“Look what my Love got me. Have you beheld it?”

It doesn’t matter if it’s stupid. He’s keeping it forever

Navi

Without and S/O

Stays home and has snacks and chocolates

Maybe organizes his hat collection

Watches fun game shows or anything without romance

With S/O

Has a special hat he wears for the occasion

Gets you one too

Gets you candy and a single rose, as well as a teddy bear

Uses his tablet to find the best places to go with the best rating. Uses his ability to multiply to hold your place in line so you can actually do other stuff

Ferris wheel. He has to hold his hat on but you guys get an AMAZING picture together. It’s his screensaver. He texts it to Nezumi. Nezumi and him start having a couple picture off. Next year, double date.

#juni taisen #juuni taisen #juni taisen x reader #juuni taisen x reader

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bisluthq · 3 years

Note

Could you explain to me why Dress has gay connotations? I just don’t see it, and it’s been years now.

Yes I can, because that was the song that lead me down this path of sin and insanity. The year was 2017. With more marbles and brain cells and far less COVID, I sat down to listen to the album Reputation. Perhaps I poured a glass of wine first. I don’t recall. I was but a more or less normal, very casual fan who had for many years enjoyed mocking Taylor for her messy ass personal life, supposed hyperconfessionalism and regular PR kerfuffles. One of my best friends and then roommate used to, as I’ve told y’all before, blast Blank Space as a chaos anthem every time we went out. Fundamentally, though I was too cool for Taylor Swift. I was listening for like... general pop culture knowledge because my brain is a treasure trove of entertainment tidbits and gossip. I got through almost the whole album and then I heard the song Dress and I said, “what the fuck did I just listen to?” And I replayed it and I went, “Damn Blank Space. That was gay.”

And that was the fateful day I came to believe in 2+ muses, Gaylor and, I guess, Kaylor as well because my (albeit surface level but even if I’d dug) Googling brought me mostly to supermodel Karlie Kloss’s door.

So why is this song so gay? I’m not even gonna give y’all the Kaylor reading today we’re literally gonna time capsule to 2017 before I knew any of this shit and when the only thing I knew was THIS SONG WAS GAY.

Our secret moments

In a crowded room

They got no idea

About me and you

Okay so they’re out and about. What secret moments? Like looks and stuff? I mean bold of her to assume nobody knows it’s pretty easy to convince people hets are fucking especially if they’re giving each other meaningful looks and shit. Idk like people whisper and gossip about hets just looking at one another all the time. This seems like she’s a bit overconfident in their sneakiness.

There is an indentation

In the shape of you

Made your mark on me

A golden tattoo

Right so whatever is happening between the speaker and the subject of the song has had an impact on her. This isn’t a thirst anthem. Like the secret moments aren’t because they’re just... looking at one another respectfully and kinda doing that “your place or mine” telepathic conversation. No, Tay’s body has a mark, an indentation from the shape of her lover’s body and the whole thing is a golden tattoo - temporary and removable, presumably, shiny and glittery, but visible to the naked eye. So shit’s already gone down. Friends with benefits maybe?

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

Nah, not simply friends with benefits. This is forbidden, right? Taylor can’t touch her lover. All they have are these secret stolen looks in the crowded room that absolutely nobody can tell mean anything. That... sounds like “gal pals” to lil gay me. Like she can’t touch her lover because it’ll be too obvious but as long as they don’t touch it won’t seem sexual at all. It’s not just that they’re friends and nobody knows there’s more going on, because why can’t they be friendly then? Why are they sharing secret moments but they can’t come close to the point where her hands are literally shaking from staying away? Why can’t she do that good old link arms with her good guy friend especially if they’re out and tipsy? And then it ends off with orgasm noises because... it’s this song so of course it does.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha)

More nails in the coffin of “friends with benefits” and people just don’t know. This person saying her name makes her world stop. This ties into the forbidden vibe but it’s also so innocuous that it does fuck with the “we’re just friends with benefits but I want more” interpretation that a hetsplanation would require. Like this is clearly a lot more. It’s already a lot more. It’s not that she just wants more, this girlie is gone.

And then we get to my gayest line: “I don’t want you like a best friend.” Now I get saying you don’t want to be “just friends” with a guy. I also do get being best friends with a guy. One of my irl besties is Blank Space Chaos Anthem girlie and the other is a (mostly) straight dude. I also have other straight dude friends like my mate who I was trying to rescue from accidentally having to marry a converting girl a few years back. I’m like a (woke) straight dude whisperer tbh because being friends with me is a big win for their woke credibility and let’s be real I’m 1) irreverent and great fun and 2) give great advice on girls.

Now I can guarantee you my proposition to fucking any of my dude friends from besties to casuals would not be “I don’t want you like a best friend.” They’d be like, “my bitch wut? Are you with Pothead YouTube Ex again? Tell her BE GONE WITCH!” And sure, maybe that’s just me. But if was already fucking a dude I can guarantee you the words “I don’t want you like a best friend” would not exit my mouth. It’s not “I don’t want to be friends” or “I don’t only want to be friends” she says “I don’t want you like a best friend.” The implication is there’s an appropriate way to “want” a friend and the way she wants the person she’s speaking to is not like that. It’s a similie, she’s comparing the subject of the song to a best friend and saying this is not like that. Now, explain to me why that level of clarification is important in a fwb setup? You’re trying to make it more serious, I get it. You don’t want to be “just” friends with benefits (and we know they’re already fucking) I get that too. But why the similie?

Why would a dude you’re fucking ever misunderstand and think you want him like a best friend?

Carve your name into my bedpost

Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off (ha, ha, ha)

I mean again, if we needed clarity on why this is a sex anthem it’s the first line of this song. And she’s saying “have sex with me because I don’t want you like a best friend” again, they’ve already fucked that was established in the first verse. Why would this be stuff you clarify with a dude? Why would a man who is fucking you get the wrong impression and assume you want to be best friends? Not friends. Best friends. Why would he think that?

And then we get the dress line. Now, I know some people are like “I dress up for my boyfriend!” and sure. But let’s all be honest. 85%+ of the time girls of any sexual orientation wear outfits out - and we established this is an out type situation - it’s for other girls to notice their fashion. Come on, you’re not expecting your dude friend to be like, “nice dress, where’d you buy it?” “Oh, this? Hahaha it’s just Zara, they were having a sale. If you hurry you might get one too!” Like there’s something inherently sapphic/feminine about discussions of buying clothing. And come on, fellow queer ladies, clothes is a great way to get a chat going.

In this song, Taylor draws attention to this feminine article of clothing she bought to wear on the night in question and instead of saying “it’s Zara” she goes “I only bought it so you could take it off” - I’m doing an eyebrow wiggle but you can’t see because I’m just text on your screen. Why would you say that to a guy? Like if you did, if you’re that girl why are you holding back from him? Y’all are fucking and you have a massive thing for him. Surely he should know by now? Why is this dress even featuring in the conversation? Like I say bringing up a dress you bought in a conversation about sex feels pretty fucking gay. It’s either a really bizarre and kinda desperate flex which doesn’t really match the sexiness of the song or... it’s gay.

Inescapable

I'm not even going to try

Girl you’ve fucked why is there a point of trying at this stage? Unless you... can’t do this or it feels in some way wrong?

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified

Why the I/we split? Like why is only one of them burned if they were electrified? Sure maybe it’s a fwb thing and he can turn her down for more than sex and friendship but it sounds more like - given the best friends - this is her female friend and she’s maybe uncertain of the other woman’s feelings. This feels - and again we’re not doing a Tay’s personal life reading here - like one of them can be fully destroyed by this but despite that reality they are both lit up and hurt in the process.

I'm spilling wine in the bathtub

You kiss my face and we're both drunk

I mean this isn’t inherently gay it’s just sexy, get it Tay. This sounds hot.

Everyone thinks that they know us

But they know nothing about

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

What do they know about you? Like again we’re not doing the Tay reading thing but like what’s the sekrit? She’s fucking her friend? Why don’t they know anything about this? Surely they can imagine it’s a possibility? Like however unlikely, why does nobody know anything about this?

The next chorus is the same as the one above and I still have no hetsplanation for it. Like especially in the broader context of this, again, very gay song.

Then we get a very straight bridge. It’s like it’s from a different song or was written much later:

Flashback when you met me

Your buzz cut and my hair bleached

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

Flashback to my mistakes

My rebounds, my earthquakes

Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

And I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My one and only, my lifeline

I woke up just in time

Now I wake up by your side

My hands shake, I can't explain this

Aha, ha, ha, ha

Okay but this is a completely different vibe to the... entire song. The rest of the song was about the other person not being sure and that being the issue. “I don’t want you like a best friend.” So why: “I woke up just in time”? Like “if I get burned at least we were electrified” but then... “I woke up just in time” - is the rest of the song like a weird nightmare? That’s not, to me, enough of an explanation. She spends the whole song in sexy anxiety pining after someone who cares about where and why she bought her dress and then she’s like “you’re everything to me” - it doesn’t make sense.

The rest of the song is the chorus again. As I’ve said, I don’t see a hetsplanation for it.

This is a gay song. The bridge isn’t and the line about the bathtub isn’t inherently. But the rest of this song is gay af.

#sapphic themes in tay’s music

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Text

The Walk

The Pool | The Difference | The Notes | The Fear | The Thought | The Question | Masterlist Pairing: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Reader Rating: Explicit - 18+ only Warnings: None? Besides cursing. Notes: F l u f f y Also the way this one is styled is that each section flows into the other, so the line of (most) of the previous sections is the same as the beginning of the following. Summary: “I’m serious! I really didn’t think you two would last. And I mean that in the nicest way possible,” Nick insists, looping his arm around your shoulder as he steers you toward the bar you all go to after work.

“Ooh, how about yellow? It’s real popular now,” Isobel bumps her hip against yours as you steer Lissie’s carriage. You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t know… I want a color that can suit everyone. Jewel tones seem a little safer? Or maybe like a… A grey, like a slate grey,” You offer. “What’s Ben think?” Nadia asks. “He said he doesn’t care about the colors and to call him in when it’s time to pick the DJ and the cake,” You roll your eyes. “Sounds like Ben,” Isobel snickers.

“How many bridesmaids are you gonna have again?” Nadia asks as the three of you leave the park. “Mm, well, you, Megan, and Iz, obviously, and my cousin’s gonna fly in from home… And yeah, that’s it.” “Smaller’s the way to go,” Isobel shook her head. “That one had ten bridesmaids. Ten,” Nadia pointed to Isobel. “Yow,” You muttered, “That’s… That is a lot of people.” “Ten in yellow, imagine,” Nadia teased. “Can’t even picture myself in yellow.” “Have you started looking at dresses yet?”

“Funny, Isobel asked me the same thing a couple of days ago-- This one?” You glance back at Borracho for confirmation as you point at a box of cereal. He nods in confirmation and you pluck it off of the shelf. You set the box down in the cart he’s pushing before crossing it off of your list. “Well?” He asks. “Hm? Oh-- Why are you asking?” You raise a brow at him. He shrugs a shoulder. “Just wondering. You want me to be involved, right?” “Uh huh,” You smile, “And I’ve…Done some Googling, yeah.” “Seen anything you like?” “Maybe.”

Borracho looks down at you. “With you, that means yes,” He accuses, and you smile. He knows you too well. “Not a specific dress, just like… Style and stuff.” “I’m willing to bet you’ve got a folder full of research.” “I’m willing to bet that you just walked past three items on our list because you’re more focused on my dress. Back the cart up, mister.” Borracho chuckles and glances behind himself, backing up and stopping when you put your hand on the cart. “Ah, of course. How could I have walked past this?” He teases as you step around to grab your hot sauce. “I don’t know, but it worries me,” You retort, glancing back at him. You pause, freezing, before you turn wide eyes up at Borracho. He frowns. “What is it, sweetness?” “I just got a great idea for the wedding favors.” He looks at you, and then at the bottle of hot sauce in your hands. “No.” --

“I’m serious! I really didn’t think you two would last. And I mean that in the nicest way possible,” Nick insists, looping his arm around your shoulder as he steers you toward the bar you all go to after work. You roll your eyes. “You all had a pool going on how long we’d last, didn’t you.” Nick doesn’t answer that, so you follow it up with, “How much did you lose?” “... A bit.” You raise a brow. “And then a bit more.” You scoff, laughing. “God, you’re a shithead. All’a you are shitheads.” “I knew you’d last when he was in the hospital, though,” Nick adds, “When you asked if we’d killed the guy that had done it.” “You asked that?” You glance back at Borracho, who’s caught up with you two. You hadn’t even heard him coming. “... I was just wondering,” You admit, catching hold of his hand with yours, “And I was pissed.” “What would you have done if they hadn’t?” He asks, intertwining your fingers. “Let’s maybe not think about that, babe.” “Hey-- Hey hey hey,” Henderson squeezes in beside the three of you, and you’re now effectively blocking off the sidewalk, “You gonna be mad if we take your man to the strip club?” “Dude,” Connors hisses behind you. You roll your eyes. Tonight is Borracho’s bachelor party. “S’alright. It’s not like his sisters are taking me to church,” You point out. It’s also your bachelorette party. “He won’t be in the dog house?” Nick confirms, stunned. You shrug, “He knows who he’s coming home to and I trust him.” Borracho draws you out of Nick’s arm and under his own, pressing a kiss to your temple, murmuring, “You know I love you, right?” -- “I know, baby. I love you, too,” You murmur, wrapping your arms around his waist. You’re a little tipsy, you’re not afraid to admit it, but you’re in a damn good mood. The rehearsal went fine, the rehearsal dinner was great. You didn’t expect your families to get along so well, but the Magalons have welcomed your family with open arms, and your family has been equally warm. It’s been a little over a year since Borracho has proposed. You’re getting married tomorrow. Tomorrow. It feels too good to be real. The two of you are taking your time walking to the parking lot. You’ve decided to spend the night before the wedding apart - Borracho at your apartment, and you at the wedding suite at the hotel. “You excited for tomorrow?” You glance up at him. He grins down at you. “Excited for you to be my wife, sweetness,” He murmurs. You place your hand on his chest to stop him moving and lean up for a kiss. He draws you in, brushing his lips warmly over yours before he dips his tongue into your mouth. You lean against him, sighing as his grip tightens on you. “C’mon, girly! You can kiss him all you want tomorrow!” Nadia calls from where she’s waiting for you deeper in the parking lot. You chuckle, unable to help it. Borracho leans away, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he murmurs. “Yes you will,” You agree, “A whole lot.” Borracho laughs, leaning in and pecking your lips again. -- You’re walking down the aisle alone. A few moments ago, you had a death grip on the bouquet, but now you can see Borracho, and your shoulders have relaxed, your grip has loosened. You didn’t have cold feet, you had jitters, knowing everyone would be staring at you. That doesn’t matter now. Because sure, there are people staring, but they’re your family and friends, and they’re all there to support you and Borracho. And he’s watching you, grinning, and lifting a hand to swipe away a tear. If it were any other day, you’d put money down on the guys giving him shit for that later. It’s not any other day, though. -- You each walked down the aisle alone; you walk back up the aisle together.

#Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader #Benny Borracho/You #Benny Borracho/Reader #Den of Thieves

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uchihacore · 4 years

Text

newton’s third law

PAIRING: keishin ukai x reader SUMMARY: every action has an equal and opposite reaction WARNINGS: nsfw, pegging, blowjobs

You frown at your reflection in the tiny rearview mirror, rubbing at the edge of a purple mark peeking out of your shirt collar. You hadn’t noticed it last night, but then again, you hadn’t really noticed much outside of Keishin calling you ‘Princess’ as he sat you in his lap and pressed a vibrator between your legs. And really, can you fault yourself for that?

Lucky for you (or rather for lucky for Keishin), you always carry a tube concealer in your purse, just for these types of situations. You pull out the tube and dab some concealer onto your tender neck, gently patting away the cream until it blends with the rest of your skin.

“Sorry 'bout that,” Keishin says from the passenger seat. You can see him from the corner of your eye, and he’s grinning like an idiot, which makes sense because he is an idiot.

“No, you aren’t,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. You need to get him out of your car before he makes you late for work, or worse, a student sees you with him. You pack the tube away, pulling out your lipgloss as Keishin shrugs unapologetically.

“Nope, not even a little bit. But really,” he says, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your ear, “can you blame me? Seeing you all marked up, having to hide my hickeys at school, it’s so hot.”

“Nice to know you’re turning into a caveman, Keishin,” you say. And blush because the heater is on and not because of how close he is, the bruise on your neck tingling, “but not everyone gets the luxury of working for our mommy. Some of us have real jobs.”

(Which, admittedly, is a low blow. Especially considering he coaches the boys’ volleyball team for practically nothing, and gives Karasuno students discounts on like half his inventory.) You purse your lips together to rub in the lipgloss, fighting back an apology.

“And yet, here you are,” Keishin notes, seemingly unruffled. “Hiding my artful love-bites under a layer of makeup. Real job and all.”

“Get lost, Keishin,” you say, rolling your eyes. You toss your lipgloss into your makeup bag and turn to him. “I have classes to teach.”

“Of course you do. Have a good day at work, Princess.” he says, and the ballsy bastard actually kisses you before getting out of your car. You give him your best-unimpressed glare, and his smile widens when he turns and sees your expression before heading into the store.

And okay, yeah, maybe you a part of you is blushing and giggling on the inside like some idiot schoolgirl, but only because you’ve been treated like many things in your lifetime, from bitch to queen to child, but no one had ever made you feel like the Keishin does, like an actual, honest to God, princess.

But the other part is trying to figure out when he got so cocky, and how you’d allowed that to happen. Before you can contemplate further, a group of third-year students passes your car, and you put the car back into drive. Suddenly self-aware of how strange you must look mooning after the Sakanoshita Store guy, of all people.

You ponder it on the walk to your classroom, your sex life, or whatever it’s called, with Keishin Ukai is excellent, you’ll be the first to admit. He’s the first man ever to make your voice hoarse from moaning. But the last thing you want is for him to get a big head over it. He’s annoying enough as it is, thanks.

No, you need to get Keishin back down to Earth, somehow. He needs to be taught a lesson, taken down a peg.

And just like that, it hits you. Throwing a glance at your class, who are all too busy with morning pleasantries to notice, you pull out your phone and do a quick google search, you find the article you’re looking for and skim it. You’ll need to do some after-school shopping, but you’ll gladly sacrifice that cute skirt from H&M for this. You put your phone away and neatly write a line of notes about the kinematics on the chalkboard, drawing a smug little smiley face in the corner. Oh, this is going to be fun.

Your next 'meeting’ (because what the fuck else are you supposed to call it?) with Keishin is on Friday, and today is Tuesday. If you stop at the sex shop tonight and get the supplies, you’ll have two nights to figure them out. Which is essential because the last thing you want is to be unskilled in front of Keishin. He’d never shut up about it.

The school day passes by in a blur. You faintly remember scolding Nishinoya for using Tanaka as a springboard and a brief conversation with Hinata about the ‘epic highs and lows of high school volleyball’. Also, the concept of mitochondrial DNA had been clunking around your headspace for most of the day which was odd because you don’t even teach biology. Still, mostly you were just focused on the tantalizing idea of giving Keishin a taste of his own medicine.

You drive to the sex shop two towns over, as opposed to the one just off the highway, partly because it’s cleaner, but mostly because there’s less of a risk of seeing someone you know. You’d hate to have a student catching you buying a strap-on. Oh, the rumors.

The salesperson is a heavily tattooed girl with electric blue hair and a black heart stamped on each freckled cheekbone. She’s really helpful, though. She takes her time explaining just how all the buckles work, and which dildo to buy to fit into which harness, so do your best not to judge her too harshly. She also recommends buying silicone-based lube over water-based lube, because apparently it lasts longer and isn’t harmful in anal sex the way it is in vaginal sex.

So you give her a five-dollar tip for her troubles, to which she responds by giving you the toothiest smile you’ve seen in your entire life and telling you your boyfriend has no idea how lucky he is.

Which you give her another three dollars for because she’s completely right.

(About Keishin not knowing how lucky he is to have you. Not about him being your boyfriend, because he’s fucking not, okay?)

You bring your goodies home, feeling like you always feel after shopping: like you’ve just gotten a load of Christmas presents, and they’re waiting to be unwrapped. You have the presence of mind to hide the black and red bag in your oversized purse before entering your building. Just in case you happen to share the elevator with one of the old ladies on your floor.

Once you get into your apartment, you lock your door and layout your purchases on your dining room table, immediately picking up the dildo to test its weight. You’d picked a sparkly ribbed one, not because you particularly like it, but because you can’t wait to see Keishin’s face when he saw it. You’re pretty sure it’ll end up somewhere between shock, reproach, and begrudging amusement.

It’s the same abrasive yellow as Keishin’s bleached hair, average-sized, chosen more for entertainment value than anything else. You slot it into place then give the shaft an experimental tug to see just how well the metal ring in the harness holds it in place. Satisfied with the result, you examine the nubby, double-pronged vibrator on the opposite end of the harness. It’s supposed to go inside you when everything’s in place, so you get something out of it while you fuck Keishin senseless.

Though you’re reasonably sure that the very act itself of fucking Keishin senseless would have you curling your toes, you’re not about to deny yourself some extra stimulation.

You test the silicone lube between your fingertips. It feels weird, like the silicone-based face primer you’d used in high school, though this was less powdery and more expensive. You test on the skin above your knee, curious to see how long it takes to dry off.

While you wait, you take all of your clothes off, hanging up your blazer and throwing the rest in the hamper. You examine the harness, it’s an intimidating contraption of black nylon and silvery buckles, but that doesn’t deter you. You’re a high school science teacher, thank you very much. You explain physics to teenagers all day. This is nothing compared to that.

And actually, when you fit it onto your hips, it’s not too bad. A strap goes around each thigh, like a bikini, and one loops around your waist. You tighten the straps and peer down at the yellow, glittery penis now hanging heavily at the apex of your thighs. Huh. So this is what penises are like?

You grip the base and stroke up, grimacing at the sensation of your hand skidding over the rubber. Oh. Lube. Right. You squeeze some lube onto the dildo and start stroking again, much smoother this time. You hate how good the angle is; no wonder guys get so picky about handjobs. You fist it for a few minutes, feeling the vibrator bump against your clit. Which, considering its not even on, has no right to feel that good.

Once you get used to the way the dildo moves within its ring and how to compensate for the way the straps shift on your hips, you take the strap-on off and clean the dildo of lube. The stuff is way better than water-based lube, and you can’t wait to see it in action. You pack the strap-on and the lube back into the bag and leave it in your bedroom. Then you take a seat at your dining room table, pulling out a stack of ungraded papers instead. Time to spend some quality time with Marie Curie.

The next two days are validating, if nothing else. Keishin’s decided to go full little shit and keeps sexting you in the middle of your lectures like you’re supposed to just be able to explain oxygen theory of combustion after receiving a text detailing just how hard his cock is. You’d given him your best glare and sent a lengthy email telling him to fuck off, but to no avail. Plus, yesterday, he showed up at your office hours after practice, covered in sweat, and looking ridiculously hot, “just to say hi.” You won’t let it bother you, though. He’ll get what he deserves soon enough.

By Friday afternoon, you’re a mass of nerves and vindictive anticipation. Keishin’s been shooting you heated smirks all day. At lunch, he purposefully spills a packet soy sauce all over his hand just to seductively lick it off each of his fingers. You think it really speaks to your libido that, under the righteous indignation, you were actually pretty turned on by that. Stupid fucking Keishin, getting you hot and bothered with convenience store dumplings, of all things.

You’re practically vibrating when you open the door to your apartment at seven sharp, tamping down on your anxiety. You give Keishin your most relaxed, most expectant smile, and he responds by giving you that stupid(ly sexy) smirk and thrusting a bottle of cheap wine your way.

“Hey, Princess,” he says, bending down to peck you on the cheek. “How was your week?”

“Um,” you blink at him owlishly, thrown, “fine?”

“Really?” Keishin asks, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind himself. As soon as the lock clicks into place, he’s on you like a starfish, head tucked into your neck. “Because mine’s been torture. All I can think about is how gorgeous you look under me. Over me. Everywhere. God, you drive me nuts.”

You feel something heavy in your chest. You bring your hands up to card through his hair. “I know the feeling.” Because all jokes and exasperation aside, Keishin’s under your skin in a big way, pumping you full of something that tastes like burnt, thick sugar and smells like Valentine’s Day chocolates. You’re drowning in Keishin Ukai, and you fucking love it.

“Do you now?” Keishin stills, then his hands change directions on your back, one scooping down to you ass and the other up into your hair. “And how does it feel, Princess?”

Oh, and there’s the smarmy little imp that’s been harassing you in school. Your lips curl into a devilish smile, out of Keishin’s line of sight, and you lean your weight into his hold. “Oh, I’m not sure I can even explain it, Keishin,” you sigh woefully. “Maybe I should just show you instead.”

“I think I could get behind that,” he agrees, pulling back. “Maybe even literally.” He leers down at you, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Classy, Ukai.” You snort despite yourself. “Remind me why I ever agreed to have sex with you?”

“Is that a request or an invitation?” His hands fall to your hips, thumbs rubbing lazy circles into your hipbones, “I accept both.”

You purse your lips, whether to fight a grin or a scowl, you’re unsure. “Let’s take this to the bedroom,” you suggest. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Keishin grins. “Lead the way.”

You set the wine bottle on the table and lead him by the hand to your room, hips swaying, nerves were forgotten. This is going to be so much fun. You open the door to your room, watching Keishin leap onto the bed. “Close your eyes and take off your clothes,” you order, unbuttoning your blouse. Keishin inhales sharply, eyes falling shut as he peels off his shirts and wiggles free from his pants. He’s already half-hard, boxers just beginning to tent.

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“Not yet, no,” you replied, opening the drawer and pulling out your bag of tricks. you slid the strap-on into place, tightening the buckles with confident, practiced accuracy. “I thought we’d try something different today. Just the thought of it has kept me wet all week.”

Keishin twitches in his boxers, fists clenching on the edge of the bed. “Now, I’ve got to know. ”

“Open your eyes.”

Keishin blinks them open, freezing when they land on the dildo. You stroke it slowly, delighting in the way a ruddy blush works up his toned chest.

“Oh,” he says, sounding faintly disappointed. “I thought….”

“You thought you could tease me all week at school and get away with it,” you supply, baring your teeth when he flinches. “Newsflash asshole, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So, what do you think of my cock, Keishin? I picked it out special, just for you.”

Keishin shudders, bowing his head in supplication. “Tell me what to do,” he says, voice gone hoarse.

“Answer the question.”

“It’s, uh,” Keishin stammers, glancing up at it, “it’s very… pretty?”

“Damn straight, it is,” you growl, striding toward the bed in long, slow steps. “What are you going to do with such a pretty cock, Keishin?” And wow, where is this coming from? You’re just supposed to fuck him and get it over with. This aggression is all-new, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good. And, judging by how hard Keishin is, you assume the feeling is mutual.

“Can I suck it?” he asks meekly, eyes pointedly not meeting yours. A total display of submission. You approve. You move to stand in front of him, positioning the cock at his lips, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Keishin groans, reaching out to suck the head into his mouth. He bobs his head, working deeper down your shaft each time. You bite your lip, feeling a hot wave of arousal work down your spine. He’s beautiful like this, cheeks hollowed around the length of yellow, sparkly rubber. Your hand leaves the base to cup the back of his head, and his hand takes its place. He pulls back to suckle at the head, eyes looking up at you heatedly.

Fuck.

“So pretty,” you sigh, hand petting the dark hair on the nape of his neck. “I can see why guys like this so much.” Keishin’s eyes flutter shut, lashes long against his cheekbones. “What do you think, Keishin? Do you like sucking cock?”

Keishin moans, sucking as deep as he can go. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re desperate. His free hand moves to his own cock, pulling it out of the gape of his underwear.

You freeze, pulling his head back by the grip in his hair. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” Keishin shoots you a pleading look, but you’re already pulling out of his mouth, dildo shiny with spit. “Take them off, get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

He stumbles to do your bidding, cock dark red and angry-looking. You pick up the lube from where you’d placed it on the nightstand and kneel behind him. The lube opens with a wet click that makes Keishin jerk in surprise. You spread the lube liberally on your fingers, reaching out to trace one over his hole, teasing. Keishin mewls and pushes back, eagerly. You feel another gush of heat between your legs, pushing the finger in slowly. You work the finger in and out, curling it down to find his prostate. You find it on the fourth try, judging by the way he keens and clenches around you.

The second finger is met with a little resistance, and Keishin takes in a deep breath to relax his muscles. You kiss the small of his back in praise, scissoring the fingers once you’re able. This is a lot more intimate than you’d expected it to be, working Keishin open like this. It fills you with a strange sense of responsibility, you want to do this right, you want to make it good for him.

“Just relax, Keishin,” you whisper, as he whines and clenches around your third finger, “you can do this. We can stop anytime you want.”

Keishin heaves a great, shivering breath, but he relaxes. You work as slowly as you can, pushing against his rim more than thrusting in until he’s loose enough to take you. You squirt more lube onto your fingers, pushing them slowly into him until he takes them all the way to the knuckle. You make sure to graze his prostate every few thrusts, only content when he’s moving back to meet you thrust-for-thrust.

“M'ready,” he whispers, sounding wrecked. You pressed a kiss his hipbone in sympathy. “Want you.”

“Okay,” you say softly, pulling your lube-slick fingers out of him. You lube up your cock quickly, pressing the tip to his rim. “You sure?”

“Do it, Princess,” he says, wriggling his hips, “or I’ll start bringing bananas for lunch.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Idiot.” You hold the cock firmly in one hand, pressing it carefully into him. His breath hitches and stops, and he leans into the intrusion. You press a wet kiss to the back of his neck when the head slides in. “How’s that?” You ask, moving slowly until the base of the dildo is pressed against his ass.

“Gimme a minute,” he manages, shoulders locked with tension. You hold your position, rubbing soothingly over his back and down his flanks. After a minute, he moves, shoulders relaxing. “Go slow, okay?”

You murmur an “okay” and pull out an inch. You move back in, starting a rhythm of tiny thrusts. You only lengthen them when he grows impatient and flails a hand at you. You pull out almost all the way, then shove back in, gasping when the vibrator buzzes to life over your clit.

You begin moving in earnest, grinding into him to feel the vibrator flutter against your clit. God, it felt good. You shift to the right a little, and Keishin moans, all high and whimpery and divine. You move to hit that spot again, grinning when he chokes out another moan. You angle yourself so that all of your thrusts will meet that spot, draping yourself over his back to work a hand on his cock. He’s hard as a rock and dripping pre-cum as he twitches under your touch.

Keishin makes a broken sound and works his hips, thrusting back onto your fake cock and forward into your fist. You feel the world spin around you; this was by far the hottest thing you ever done with anyone.

And you think Keishin might agree because thirty seconds later he starts babbling:“ fuck, I’m gonna cum. Shit, feel so perfect inside me, please, let me cum, tell me I can cum, please. I need you to say yes, please.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth. He wants you to give him permission? Oh, fuck, yes. “Cum for me, Keishin, wanna see you cum around my cock,” you command, voice deeper than you’d ever heard it. Keishin whimpers, and he’s cumming, hips spasming. You watch his hole clench around your cock and feel yet another gush of heat, this one dripping down your thighs. You continue to move inside him until he gasps and pulls away. You pull out slowly, groaning at the way his skin tugs around the length of you.

He flips onto his back as soon as he’s free, fingers racing to undo the buckles of your harness. “You didn’t come.” He huffs, tugging at the straps, “I wanna make you come. Please let me.”

You shove the strap-on away, throwing it half-way across the room. “How do you want me, Keishin?”

Keishin collapses, rubbery, on the bed. “Sit on my face, Princess.”

Fuck. You can do that. You move up until your knees bracket his head and hold yourself over his face. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispers, kissing the dampness from your thighs, working up to your center.

He licks into you delicately, mopping up all of your juices. You’re hypersensitive already and gasp into his teasing touches. Keishin slides his tongue inside you, curling it upwards. You keen, grinding down onto his mouth before you can stop yourself. You move to pull off to apologize, but Keishin holds your hips down, face more blissful than you’ve ever seen it. You run your fingers through his hair, swiveling your hips over his mouth.

“Need you on my clit,” you gasp and Keishin hums (which, okay, wow) and sucks your clit between his lips, sliding two thick fingers into you. He licks and sucks at you, pushing you farther and farther closer to the edge, but it’s the gentle nibble that finally pushes you over it. You scream soundlessly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the bed. His hands keep you from falling off his mouth as he licks you down from your orgasm. When you mewl in discomfort, he presses one last kiss to you clit before pulling away.

You collapse next to him, thighs sore and blissed out.

“Learn your lesson?” you asked him sleepily, eyes closing.

“No wonder none of the boys are failing physics. You’re quite the teacher,” Keishin nods, still panting slightly. “Though, I think you may have to go over it again sometime.”

You laugh and turn to look at him. He’s smiling back at you, eyes soft and happy. The heavy feeling in your chest returns, and you feel like you can’t breathe. You lean in and kiss him, ignoring the way he tastes like you. His own flavor was much sweeter. “I think we can manage that,” you whisper against his glistening lips.

He lazily tangles his hand in yours and brings it up to kiss you knuckles. “Good.”

When you wake the next morning with muscular forearms wrapped around you, you panic for a moment before remembering who it is and relax into Keishin’s embrace.

#keishin ukai x reader #keishin ukai imagines #keishin ukai scenarios

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janewatson · 3 years

Text

Helluva Boss Trailer Analysis!

Yes, I watch this. Yes, I like it. No, I won’t argue with you about it.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s just say that I was up when the trailer dropped, and was still up for a bit after. I’ve watched it so many times now, just absorbing everything, and now it’s time to break it down.

I’ve seen a few breakdowns already, but I noticed that there were a few things people hadn’t mentioned. So I’m tossing my hat in the ring, let’s see if we can figure out what Vivziepop has in store for us!

I’ll be breaking down by scene, as well as go over voiceovers and predictions real quick, so prepare for a read after the cut!

Ok, first, had to laugh at Millie’s Peppermint Vodka Molotov Cocktail. Creative, but what a waste of vodka :( The background is of a beach, but she’s not in beach clothes (let’s face it, a bikini would probably kill Moxxie)

Moxxie is shooting at something while he’s swinging from a rope in a deserted theater. Piano on the floor, and a sun pattern on the back wall

Blitzø (thanks for the copy/paste, Google) cleaving a blonde in half with a baseball bat. Damn, he stronk!

Diss Summar’, with the little doodles! So cute :3

Drunk/drugged/in shock Moxxie, poor Millie, and something big bursting out from the water behind. Tied to first scene?

Stolas’ ‘Special Access’ bit from the Sneak Peeks, talking about the Harvest Moon festival in Wrath

Moxxie and Blitzø in a green lit room, looks like a two-way mirror on the wall. Interrogation?

Correction to ‘Diss Season’ XD Hopefully that means we’ll get an episode before spring, but if they need more time, that’s understandable

Glammed up Stolas at some kind of burlesque, owned by Asmodeus ‘Ozzie’, Prince of Hell’s Lust circle. Wonder why he’s there...

CHERUBS!!! Also from the Sneak Peeks, we know that this is a commercial, and that the TV showing said commercial gets blown up a few seconds later

Angry Blitzø, probably yelling at Moxxie, being scared shitless by a hellhound behind him. I think this is a repo/impound/chop-shop guy who took IMP’s van, as in a later scene, they’re shown in a fence with other cars, especially because Blitzø yells ‘RUN’ at the end of the scene

Loona and Blitzø filming someone’s misery (again, probably Moxxie). They’re in western outfits, but they’re probably still in Hell

Tentacle wrapping around drugged Moxxie and taking him, too fast for Millie to react and stop it. Again, looks like it’s tied to the first and fifth scenes

Sassy Blitzø, probably talking to the repo-hellhound or punching-bag Moxxie. Same setting as scene 11

Blitzø running to the window of what looks like a recording studio, with ‘VM’ spray painted on the doors next to him. He looks distraught, but it’s not clear why

Recently choked-out Moxxie recovering, while being frame by a spiny-tailed Imp wearing what I assume is a serape, since it looks like they’re on the ranch Loona and Blitzø cheered a poor soul, scene 12

DEPRESSED BIRD DADDY. WHY ARE YOU SAD??? IS IT GONNA MAKE ME SAD??? OH NO I’M NOT READY unless its a flashback, but stilllll

Perturbed Blitzø holding his special flintlock in a western-themed room. Looks like he has his outfit from scene 12 on, probably the same episode, but whatever happened/is going to happen, it’s not good

Dressed-up Moxxie, who probably jumped bombed a performance, is upstaged by Robo Fizz and most likely a Robo Ozzie, given the designs on its’ head(s). He looked uneasy even before the Robos popped up, so something else was going on first.

Scaley eye blinking and getting MAD, attached to the tentacle that kidnapped Moxxie?

50% off add for Spring Break victims, complete with coffee stain, and Blitzø‘s horse doodles. I got a mental image of Moxxie scolding Blitzø for drawing at work, so he BS’d it into an ad.

Either Blitzø is a terrible driver, or they’re trying to speed away from someone. Repo-hound, maybe?

HUMAN!!! Almost definitely a human pop-star singing on a Coachella-esque stage! I tried to fill in her name, but could only get ideas of what some letters were. Her initials are most likely VM, from the recording studio scene, but the bottoms of some letters could be an E or L, K or R, so we’re left with V~(L/E)(K/R)OSI(K/R)A MA~~. It also looks like she’s wearing heels, so she may be the person who threw Blitzø in a later scene

Moxxie about to be trampled by what can only be a horse, given his outfit. Loona and Blitzø are probably filming XD

Shocked Stolas, standing up at table. Same outfit as the burlesque, but he doesn’t looked surprised enough that it’s the part where Moxxie is upstaged, more something emotionally jarring. Blitzø kissing someone else, maybe?

Blitzø pushing Moxxie out of the way and pinning him just outside a Hell portal in an alley, most likely Earth. Blitzø looks mad, and rightly so, as he’s looking a little beat up himself. Connected to the interrogation scene?

Happy Blitzø turns horrified outside some elevators with Moxxie. Judging by the water cooler in the back, I think he’s about to slam into the recording studio. Behind him, Moxxie gives no shits

Blitzø looking miffed, maybe at something Moxxie said. Looks like the same scene with the repo-hound, as the setting itself looks like an impound lot, with the IMP van smack-dab in the middle of it. I love that the license plate is IMP-666 though

Unhappy Blitzø (ok, let’s be honest, when IS he happy?)

Moxxie swinging Millie around in the deserted theater, passionately frenching each other

Blitzø getting pushed down by a horned, high-heeled... someone. Again, might be the pop star from earlier, but there’s horns... Maybe the pop star is human-passing, and has an alternate demonic form, like the Hazbin Hotel cast?

Western-clad Blitzø pulling his flintlock on someone, most likely before scene 18. Most definitely Hell, judging by the poster and previous scenes, but I’m digging the décor

Blitzø not getting a break at all during this trailer and being yeeted into a dumpster, which closes on him. Gonna take a stab and say it’s outside the burlesque Stolas and Moxxie were in, from the colors and posters of Lust Ring, Personal Companion Robo-Fizz, and Angel Dust.

The next scene is of him climbing out of a dumpster to fall into another pile of trash. He just doesn’t get a break, does he? It doesn’t look like the dumpster outside the burlesque, but it is similar to the alley with the hell portal, where Blitzø pinned Moxxie. Maybe not the same scene, but most likely same episode.

Editor being absolutely plastered, teasing all the fun stuff to come in 2021, since 2020 can go f*ck itself.

And that’s a really in-depth breakdown of all the scenes in the trailer! Now, for the voiceovers.

First, Loona’s asking if anyone ‘Can feel that?’. Interesting thing to ask, so we’ll have to wait and see what catastrophe happens

Millie gently yelling at Moxxie to ‘DON’T PANIC’

A calm voice announcing an elevator’s departure to the Lust circle of Hell, which is most likely where the burlesque and Robo scenes are. As to who is going, it’s either Stolas or the IMP crew, or maybe both?

Horny Stolas cooing ‘Oh, Blitzy!’, followed by Loona’s ‘SHUT THE F*CK UP’ from the Loo Loo Land episode. Finally, I have a high-res clip I can set as my ringtone!

Blitzø yelling ‘Dammit, Moxxie, this is all your fault!’, which may or may not be true since he scapegoats Moxxie, who replies ‘How is this my fault???’

Pop star asking, ‘Y’all ready to get f*cked up and make some b*tchin’ bad choices?’. It’s most likely her talking, since the her lips synch up with her scene, and it’s a new voice we haven’t heard before.

Moxxie’s cut off ‘M*THERF*CKER!!!’. So happy I get to hear Invader Zim go off, poor boy needs it XD

Blitzø being Blitzø and trying to tone down a big deal, stating again that he doesn’t pry into their personal lives, even though he obvious does (see Helluva Boss Pilot for more)

Robo Fizz’s line from Loo Loo Land asking if anybody loved Blitzø. I’m gonna be honest and say that line choked me up in Loo Loo Land, and so did Blitzø’s response, until ‘But I’m really good with guns now. DANCE, B*TCH!’

Moxxie ending with ‘That is deeply unsettling’, again from Loo Loo Land. Throwing shade on Helluva Boss haters, maybe? :3

All right, now, predictions!

Chaos in a theater, with focus maybe on Millie and Moxxie’s relationship, maybe an origin story? It won’t be the only one, with the tentacle beach monster and drugged Moxxie bits, so we can expect a lot of story and character development from the two of them.

Farm episode! Blitzø either drags them onto a farm, or there’s a client who invites them, but sh*t will happen.

Really excited to see what happens in the Lust ring, and for the return of Robo Fizz! Baby boy only got a few minutes of screen time, but is currently my favorite character.

Repo episode of rescuing the IMP van, probably resulting in overall team building and character development. I really want to see Loona tear a new one into that *sshole-looking hellhound, though.

Pop star episode! Really excited to meet this new character, I wonder what her name is and how close I was XD Either Blitzø and Moxxie break into her recording studio to meet her, or she’s a client, but we’ll see!

Trapped on Earth/Run in with Earth authorities episode? That interrogation room didn’t exactly look Hellish, and they obvious meet some kind of resistance while on Earth that looked like it was gonna get messy...

Stolas episode! Please please please be flashback and story, I loved Loo Loo Land but really want some more lore and development on his character and maybe relationship with Blitzø. Bird obviously needs to work through some things, and I really want to watch him grow, ever since I saw him struggle to tell Octavia why he was cheating. Him stuttering and ultimately being unable to find a reason why really hit home, and I’m glad it was something they included since in media, it’s always ‘Well, she’s really ugly’ or ‘I don’t love him anymore’. He still has feelings for his wife, but wanted to f*ck Blitzø too.

Even without the trailer, we do know that we’re getting episodes focusing on CHERUB and a Harvest Moon festival, but still. There’s so much content Vivzie and Co have been working hard to make, and I can’t wait to see what they have in store for us. Dark comedy aside, there’s so much story they can make just around these four characters, following their growth and happenings around Hell. It’s such a cool premise and one that hasn’t been washed and worn so many times, like cop or murder shows, and I can see this going on for quite a bit.

Well, here’s to an exciting 2021! Thank you for all your hard work, Vivizepop, keep it up!

#helluva boss #season 1 trailer #blitzø #moxxie #millie #loona #stolas #helluvaboss #vivziepop #hazbin hotel

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Note

Domestic fluff, with mechanic, silver fox, soft Tony married to professor Peter. Throw in any other trope we're both obsessed with lol

The Way You Hold Me

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature Notes: Holy. It has been a hot minute since I’ve put fingers to keyboard. I’m so stoked that S’s prompt is the one to pull me out of my slump. I’m a sucker for silver fox Tony & finally couldn’t resist. This is pure, tooth-rotting fluff, so I hope you’re up for some sweetness! Word Count: ~5K Warnings: There’s a bit of smexy in there, but it’s not that detailed. The rest is just indulgence of the love-dovey kind.

Read on AO3 here

To say that Tony was hooked from the very start would’ve been a huge understatement.

Despite never laying eyes on Professor Peter Parker, Tony found himself completely overwhelmed with that obsessive sort of feeling he got when things sparked his interest. The words in their email exchanges were more than enough to draw him in – he could openly admit that strong character and a whip smart brain totally got him going. If his witty words and bright ideas weren’t enough, a quick Google search put the final nail in the coffin. Big brains and immense beauty – who was he to deny the attractiveness in that situation?

When the opportunity presented itself, Tony navigated his way around NYU’s campus, practically jumping on the chance to finally meet the notorious Professor Parker in person. He made his way leisurely through throngs of students until he found the not so surprisingly crowded lecture hall. If professors were as attractive as Professor Parker during his school days, he might’ve paid a bit more attention. Unlike most classes, each student seemed to be completely entranced by the information – or the man at the front of the room presenting it.

Tony rarely got the chance to observe someone else while working – most people that knew about his shop knew about his impeccable brains and talent; which meant a lot of the spectating happened while he worked. Flipping the norm on its head proved to be incredibly delightful – Peter Parker could hold the entire room’s attention without even trying. And man did he know his shit! He spoke about mechanics and fluid dynamics like they were extended pieces of himself, not convoluted theories riddled with mathematical explanations. If he weren’t already taking giant leaps towards infatuation, the time spent watching the professor lecture surely would send him spiraling in that direction.

For a brief instant toward the end of his lecture, Tony caught Professor Parker looking at him. Their eyes met and held for what felt like eons, the other man’s cocoa colored irises were stunning and seemed to become more so the longer Tony looked. A moment of recognition flashed in those deep eyes before he turned back to the class and continued to talk about fluid pumps like nothing happened.

By the end of the lecture, Tony knew a couple of things with absolute certainty – Peter Parker was the most gorgeous person (in every single way) on the planet, and he would do absolutely anything necessary to find a place for him in his life. Though he was getting ahead of himself, Tony could feel the rightness of the situation down to his very core – there weren’t many people who could spark a reaction in him, let alone one that moved him to action. He forced himself to calm down as a flood of students started to pile out of the room, each one looking at him with a mix of suspicion and appreciation – he forewent the hat that morning, so his longer salt and pepper hair stood proudly on display. Even he knew the appeal of that silver fox look.

A soft throat clearing brought Tony back from his contemplative state – he blinked a few times to orient himself before turning towards the noise.

Bright eyes on him had him once again stopping in his tracks; Peter Parker the man looked totally different than the lecturer standing in front of him only moments before. The owlish, almost nerdy look was replaced with a soft smirk and clear, knowing eyes. “Tony Stark, as I live and breathe. I would’ve happily met you at my office.” Peter didn’t seem to blink as he spoke, those eyes following every one of Tony’s minuet movements.

Tony knew in that instant – he wasn’t the only genius predator in that room.

Running a hand through long strands, Tony shifted his feet just enough to lean against one of the chairs closest to him. “I thought I’d catch you in your natural habitat. Even I know professors are never in their offices,” Tony remarked, his words light and just the slightest bit flirty. “Seeing you in action is much more informative than any meeting in your office would’ve been, anyway.”

Peter’s answer came in the form of a face splitting smile, the whites of his teeth showing through the stretch of soft lips. “You’re an actions speak louder than words guy – I like that.”

Grinning, Tony closed the distance between them, his feet carrying him in a manner that he never experienced before. It was as if the inches that separated them were causing physical pain, like if he didn’t get within touching distance that instant, Tony might actually combust. Now toe to toe, Tony stuck his hand out to shake, a daring look on his face. “Actions are the only thing that count in this muddled world, Professor Parker.”

And just like that, a bond developed between them. Aside from working on the research they cultivated over the past few months, Tony found himself seeking Peter’s company out as much as possible. For a little while, he made up lame work-related excuses – Peter was insanely dedicated to their joint academic pursuits and gladly came whenever Tony posed a question. As time trickled on, the questions and requests became increasingly less academic and much more personal. Instead of meeting at the campus library, Tony brought Peter to the big office he kept in the shop or the sanctuary of his kitchen. Slowly but surely, topics moved from engine parts to hobbies and ambitions. Much like the rebuild of a classic car, their steps towards something else were filled with anticipation and an overall feeling of contentment.

Instead of infatuation, Tony started to recognize the floaty feeling as love – the active process of falling into it much less frightening than he initially figured. Despite what the forty-nine-year-old knew about his previous “loves”, Tony found himself learning something new about the topic on a daily basis. Never before did he find someone’s coffee making ritual as endearing as the repetitional process that Peter went through. For the first time in his life, Tony understood what it meant to love every part of a person, not just a few individual pieces that made up the whole.

When they finally took the step towards realizing their love for each other, Tony jumped in headfirst. Being the ridiculously professional academic that he was, Peter didn’t want to mix any sort of business with pleasure, so they waited what felt like several long months to even think about anything other than friendship. Throughout those months, Tony wore out fantasy after delicious fantasy about what having Peter next to him would be like – how his ink-stained hands would feel on bare skin, how plush lips would press against his own. In all the ways, Tony tried to picture Peter as his.

Yet, nothing he pictured even came close.

The first time Peter kissed him, Tony was utterly unprepared for it. Upon their article being published, Tony and Peter planned to celebrate with a home cooked meal in Tony’s surprisingly well stocked kitchen. Throughout their time together, cooking dinner and hanging around the kitchen’s island with a glass of wine in hand became second nature to them – the whole ritual like a deep breath of fresh air after the long days both men waded through on a constant basis. Yet, this time, Tony could feel a crackle in the air – whether it was wishful thinking or fact, he wasn’t quite sure.

As they moved around each other seamlessly, Tony felt himself relaxing in a way that only happened when Peter was around. Instead of anxiety and a never-ending slew of thoughts, a clear head and empty spaces opened up around him. The comfort in Peter’s presence lulled him into a state that, until meeting the man, Tony didn’t know he could achieve. Which is why he was thrown off guard when a firm hand wrapped around his upper arm. Setting down the knife he’d been masterfully chopping vegetables with, he turned his body in Peter’s direction, the touch on his bare skin producing a sensation that sent tingles down to the very tips of his toes.

“What’s up – “ Tony started to say before the softest lips were pressing against his own. Whatever question he wanted to ask flew from his mind, the pressure of warmth and the delicate feeling of getting what he wanted, finally, overtook him. Leaning into the kiss, Tony tilted his head and returned it to the best of his ability – chances like this didn’t come by often and he sure as hell wasn’t one to let them pass him by. His own hand moved restlessly until it found the curve of Peter’s hip; the fingers there dug into jean and fabric and the slightest hint of what could only be warm, smooth skin.

Though it felt like just a second, Tony’s chest was heaving when they finally pulled away from each other. Without much thought, he renewed the grip on Peter’s hip and brought him back in for another kiss, the pressing issue of a lack of oxygen not even registering. Behind closed eyelids, he only saw, felt, and wanted the divine press of lip against lip – if he could live in this singular moment, all would be right in the world.

It was Peter who finally broke away, the redness in his cheeks sending a rush of some unnamed feeling down the length of Tony’s limbs. It felt electric, like shockwaves traveling across the surface of his skin. Sucking in a breath, Tony forced himself to look up and take in the melted chocolate of Peter’s stunning eyes. The black of his pupil practically overran the rich, dark brown, yet the color stood out even more because of that. The compulsion to reach out and touch Peter’s face rushed through him – the thought of more of that warm skin under his hands completely entrancing. Instead, he dug his fingers further into Peter’s hip, the bottom of his shirt riding up with ever clenching gesture.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months. Months, Tony,” Peter mumbled, his words still colored by the slightest pant of breath. The touch of his hand shifted up his arm, those long fingers settling on the naked skin on the back of Tony’s neck like they belonged there (they did). Slight callouses on the palm of Peter’s hand reminded him of the depth of the professor’s knowledge and experience – the roughness there spoke of words written with restless hands and technical brilliance brought about by steady, knowledgeable limbs. Unable to resist, Tony leaned into the touch, his entire being tuned in to the warm caress.

Leaning forward slightly, Tony brushed the tip of his nose against Peter’s, a soft sigh leaving his lips. So many times, he thought about this very moment and the reality of it couldn’t possibly be predicted – everything about Peter seemed like a surprise; every second they spent together another adventure, another excitement added to the list of things to LOVE about Professor Parker. The answering gasp of air against his lips had Tony pressing forward again, their lips meeting in a barely there caress.

“Now you don’t ever have to stop,” Tony finally managed to drag his lips away from Peter’s to mumble. “In fact – I hope you don’t. I really, really, really hope.”

Luckily, Peter hadn’t planned to. For weeks after that night, they flirted through shared time in the kitchen, and teased each other throughout tv show binges and candlelit dinners. No matter what they did, Tony ended the night with a writhing Peter Parker on his lap. With every second spent together, Tony tried to absorb everything he could about the man – how his hands felt gripping around his neck, the way his thighs flexed and clenched with the subtle roll of his hips – hell, even the way the taste in his mouth changed when things went from gentle and tame to overtly arousing. Many times, he wished he were a better writer – the ache Tony felt to document his findings was entirely too overwhelming.

Little by little, they crept towards what could only be considered to be something serious. There was no longer the pretense of academic pursuits to stop them from stepping out into the New York night life together – their dates took on a whole new nature when Tony realized just how well Professor Parker could clean up. It only took one night of Peter’s well-tailored ass dancing against him to know that demanding outings exactly like that one was absolutely necessary for his survival – and ever growing libido

Said libido spent a long time in self-induced isolation and took the magic of Peter Parker to reignite whatever passion seemed to be lacking earlier in his life. Up until the supple curves of his favorite professor sat in the palms of his hands, Tony struggled with the ease of intimacy – his brain ran a mile a minute and couldn’t often slow down enough to thoroughly enjoy the greatness of human contact. Yet, when Peter held him, touched him – something happened; the rest of the world sort of faded away, everything narrowed down to the lightest stroke and talented caress.

And despite the wild flame that seared between them, it still took four months of heavy petting and sleepovers on the couch after too much making out to finally fall into bed together. Tony knew – with every piece of himself – that the second he gave himself to Peter, there was no going back. Whatever addiction he willingly cultivated during their time together teetered on a precarious edge between not enough and too much. Physical intimacy would smash that cliff in half, leaving Tony with an inability to separate himself from the overwhelming feelings Peter made him feel.

Yet, when the moment finally came, every second of it felt righter than Tony thought possible. They didn’t tumble into the room in a tattered state of “can’t wait” and “right now”. Instead, Tony slowly unwrapped the present that a jean-clad Peter Parker presented. His lips mapped the route from a delightfully long neck to cut shoulders, then down from nipple to nipple, and lower – the soft hair leading down to lean hips and a gorgeous cock got more attention than either of them anticipated.

Between the dizzy effect of Peter’s moans and the effort to remember each of Peter’s moans, Tony almost forgot how he found himself two fingers deep in the tightest ass he could recall feeling. His cock, which brushed teasingly against Peter’s thigh, twitched with anticipation with every thrust – the tight clench around them was going to feel spectacular around his incredibly touch starved dick.

Clearing his mind of the more heady thoughts, Tony worked a third finger into Peter’s tight heat – the ability to control himself was slowly crumbling, each second that passed felt like one too many – the need to satiate his overwhelming craving hit him in the chest from one touch to the next.

Long fingers gripped his forearm, forcing his attention away from the pulse and stretch of the warm tightness around him. Tony looked up, his eyes seeking Peter’s without thought.

“I’m ready, Tony. I need you to fuck me. I can’t wait – don’t make me.” Peter’s grip tightened as each word slipped from his lips.

Sucking in much needed air, Tony moved until he could comply – his entire body thrummed with anticipation, his ability to wait seemed to fly out the window in that moment, too. He shifted to pull the bedside table drawer open, but he was stopped again by the hand still clutching his forearm.

“Just you, Tony.”

They locked eyes again, a silent conversation happening between them before Tony nodded, the outstretched hand finding Peter’s hip, instead. With the other, he uncapped the lube and poured a good amount straight on his heat-flushed cock, the cold of it pulling a pulse from him, a small bead of precum forming at the tip. Tony forced himself to take in a deep breath, the touch of his hand as he spread the sticky substance over sensitive skin reminding him how close he actually was. It wouldn’t do to finally be getting what he wanted and not last – he wanted, craved, desired the best of the best for Peter – with him, even.

Another quick shift had him pinning Peter on the bed below him, the forearm of his right arm pressed tightly against Peter’s shoulder – there wasn’t any space between them. When he finally pushed in, Tony let out a noise he never heard before – especially from himself. The moan radiated around the room, wrapping both him and Peter up in the delicacy of pure pleasure and steady connection. “Fuck, Pete – “ Tony couldn’t help but babble, his entire core clenching as he finally, finally bottomed out.

For all the time spent anticipating, Tony didn’t have any sort of word or feeling to describe what being connected to Peter was like. His strong thighs wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist, the muscles squeezing with every thrust – almost like he dreaded the slide out just as much as Tony. The tip of his cock nailed Peter’s prostate with every cleverly angled shift of his hips, the feeling on both ends bringing a new sense of bliss to the situation.

Though he tried to keep his shit together, Tony felt the coil in his stomach spin up uncontrollably, the inevitable end racing towards him without any of his permission. Picking up his pace, Tony untangled their joint limbs just enough to slip his hand between them, his work roughened fingers wrapped tightly around Peter’s cock to time his tight strokes with the movement of his hips.

The wet feeling of Peter’s release splashing against his fingers pulled Tony over the edge, the loud breaths and drawn out moans of the other’s orgasm a tantalizing soundtrack to his overwhelming peak.

He couldn’t remember losing the ability to hold himself up, but moments later, he resurfaced to find his chest pressed tightly against Peter’s with sweaty fingers brushing through his long, graying locks.

“Wow.” Tony whispered after a while, his nose finding its way to the crook of Peter’s neck. He pressed soft kisses and took in long, deep breaths – Peter’s normal scent was something more now, the undertones of it carrying the slightest hint of the cinnamon Tony himself carried around. A slow smile pulled across his lips at the thought – they were both forever changed now, each one another integral piece of the other.

Instead of answering, Peter tightened his grip around Tony, his soft lips pressing kiss after kiss against skin still slicked with sweat.

A while later, they tumbled out of bed and cleaned up in the shower, both men unwilling to put more space between them than necessary after such a powerful experience. Tony reveled in his ability to touch and caress as he washed hot water warmed skin, and then later when Peter crawled into his arms and settled against his chest under the plushness of soft sheets. He let the contentment of it carry him to the cusp of sleep.

Right before he let his eyes close, Tony felt a kiss pressed to the side of his neck and Peter moving impossibly closer. “I love you, Tony,” Peter mumbled against his skin, the sleepiness in his voice making the words sound so fucking special.

Blinking, Tony tightened his hold, his fingers running in smooth patterns up and then back down the length of Peter’s back. “I love you, too. So much.”

----

Eight months later, Tony found himself right back where things started; his eyes took in the entirety of the lecture hall with fond affection. He got to campus a little earlier than usual, his excitement at getting to see Peter too much for him to handle back at the shop. Instead of fretting in the car, he stretched his long legs in a walk across campus. By instinct, or maybe nostalgic intervention, Tony got to Peter’s building without thought – he shook his head at himself, but walked through the doors, anyway. Sucking in the familiar smell that Peter brought back to the apartment every day, Tony kept walking until he was able to take a seat at the back of the overfull amphitheater.

Despite not making any noise as he walked in, Peter glanced up at him, the softest smile slipping across his lips as their eyes connected. A warm feeling sat in the bottom of his stomach – the all too familiar burn of love flaring up inside him at the look.

Never missing a beat, Peter continued through the last part of his lecture like Tony wasn’t even there. Bright whiskey colored eyes watched with fascination, the smile on his face growing with each passing minute. For a long time, Tony’s own intelligence made him feel like a social outcast – there weren’t too many of his peers that could even come close to his level of understanding. Peter, though – his brain worked in a way that Tony not only found interesting, but also wanted to know and explore in the same way he did his own. The rare treat of getting to see it in work made his heart slam in his chest – Peter was damn sexy when flawlessly controlling the classroom.

Unlike most of the students around him, Tony let out the slightest sigh of disappointment at the end of Peter’s presentation – he would’ve gladly skipped their dinner plans to hear Peter wax poetic about diesel; despite the oddity of it, Tony found Peter’s display of knowledge distractingly intriguing.

Tony went against the flow of students leaving the lecture hall to get to his boyfriend at the front of the room, a happy smile on his face as he did. When close enough to reach out and touch, Tony grabbed Peter’s hand, using his leverage to pull him into his arms. Planting a fleeting kiss on soft lips, Tony held Peter tightly to him, his eyes closing from the sensation. He would’ve gotten lost in it if it weren’t for a soft chorus of ‘awes’ that sounded from the back of the room.

“Ms. Pesto, class is over.” Peter leaned back into Tony’s hands on his back to speak to the culprit, a smirk pulling across his face. “Shut the door behind you when you go.”

Grinning, Tony leaned in to press a longer, more intense kiss on already swollen lips. “Have I ever told you how sexy you are when you’re teaching?” The question was broken up by soft kisses to Peter’s lips, cheek, and chin.

Peter shook his head in answer, a slight giggle falling from his lips. “You neglected to share that interesting piece of information.” Then, “what’s your favorite part? The way my brain works, or how good I look in these pants?”

Tony let his hands run more firmly over Peter’s ass at the comment, his pupils dilating with a sudden rush of arousal. “Most definitely all of the above,” Tony whispered, his fingers digging into the meat of a delightfully thick glute. “You’re my favorite part.”

There weren’t any more words shared between them for a few minutes, the solid weight and press of lip against lip the only thing existing in those moments. Peter forced them apart when the door opened again and a colleague started to descend the stairs. Reading the room, Tony forced himself to calm down and grabbed Peter’s bag from the desk, shouldering it before reaching out to grab Peter’s hand.

Throughout the rest of the night, Tony couldn’t stop the thoughts of how right and perfect things were – Peter drove him crazy with want, but even more importantly, love and adoring affection. For the first time in his entire life, Tony understood what it was like looking at the rest of forever. Popping the question entered his mind a few months ago, just the idea of it made him absolutely weak at the knees. Though he hadn’t given much thought to marriage before, Tony could picture it clearly with Peter – they already did so much give and take with each other, the next step just made sense.

He started to seriously think about it a couple of weeks later when Happy, one of his senior mechanics, brought up a jeweler he frequently bought things from for his own wife. “He does the best work,” Happy said, his hands already busy digging into his coveralls to snag a card from his wallet. “Tell him I sent you – he’ll hook you up.”

The card sat in his grease-covered hands reverently, the small piece of cardstock another piece to the next step with his most favorite human.

Horace, who turned out to be a gifted jeweler and a joy to be around, got him settled with a gorgeous damascus steel ring, the contrasting light and dark metals melding together to tangibly personify Tony and Peter. It was strong, yet delicate – the stunning beauty of it mellow and completely overwhelming. Walking out of the store with it made Tony feel fulfilled – with it soon, he hoped to make Peter his for the rest of his life.

Of course, things never went the way Tony initially planned them to go. He carried the black velvet box with him for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to pop the question. Tony knew, despite the pulsing nerves, that Peter would say yes – they were meant to be, he couldn’t be the only one that felt that way. Not when, only after a little more than a year of being together, Peter felt like home. More than anything else in his entire life, Peter felt right.

After a string of long days in the shop, Tony was finishing up his last car of the day when Peter came storming through the side door. The slightly worrying tone of Peter’s voice when he uttered Tony’s name had him standing up too quickly, the hood he was working under smacking him in the back of the head with a dull thud. A slight whimper left his lips, his anxiousness not enough to stop the slight throb of pain.

“Pete, what’s up?” Tony asked, his voice only a little tight in his attempt to keep his slowly building panic to a minimum. They left the house that morning with a stolen make out session and a slight unwillingness to say goodbye – what could’ve possibly gone wrong between then and now? Rubbing the back of his head, Tony finally straightened himself completely, his attention totally on Peter.

His jaw dropped a second later when Peter thrust the very box he’d been worrying over between them, his eyebrow raised. “Want to tell me about this? I left some research on the passenger seat of my car and when I went to grab it, I found this suspicious black box on the seat. What is it, Tony?”

Peter’s eyes were wide, the look on his face telling Tony that Peter didn’t look, despite knowing exactly what resided within the box without the need to peek. Sucking in a quick breath, Tony snatched the box out of Peter’s hands, his knee hitting the floor a second later. That very instant was as good a time as any, he figured.

Pulling the lid of the box open, Tony used his free hand to grab Peter’s, his fingers gripping tightly. “It’s kind of fitting that I find the perfect moment in one of my fuck ups. You make all of the weird pieces of me feel so normal – like they fit, despite being totally obscure. No one, in my entire life, ever made me feel as complete as you do. I should have known that asking you to be mine forever would be as unconventional as I am. Will you be my husband, Pete? I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Instead of answering, Peter grabbed the grimy edges of his coveralls and pulled him up from the floor. His arms wound tightly around Tony’s neck, the space between their bodies getting narrowed down to nothing, the ring box stuck between them. Their lips met in a fierce kiss, spit-sticky tongues sliding together in an instant. Peter kissed Tony’s breath away, the two only pulling back when the risk of passing out ran too high.

“Yeah, I’ll be your husband,” Peter mumbled breathlessly, the pants of his breath making the words even more impactful.

A face splitting grin lit up Tony’s face, his cheeks straining with the effort. He wordlessly put a bit of distance between them, the space just enough to grab Peter’s left hand and slip the ring down his third finger. The juxtaposition of grease and pale skin and shiny metal stood out as he admired the perfect fit of forever’s promise, both on Peter’s finger and in the bond between them.

Leaning back into his new fiancé, Tony pulled Peter into him, their lips finding each other without fail. The perfectly imperfect thing that existed between them thrummed with new life. As they kissed, Tony succumbed to the pleasant ache of being completely consumed by Peter and all of the feelings that always threatened to overcome him. Peter had his back – and would for the rest of their lives. Their love deserved every overwhelming feeling Peter played muse to.

#goindownshipping #starker #peter parker/tony stark #bobbie writes #the way you hold me

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