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wonwussy · 2 years

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Stargazing

pairing; lee seokmin (dk) x afab reader

genre; SMUT SMUT SMUT and some romantic fluff i guess ugh i make myself sick

notes/warnings; fingering, unprotected sex, rain, foggy windows... sweet romance that is vomit inducing (ugh gross)

word count; 1699

You let out a happy sigh as you play with Seokmin’s fingers, your gaze fixed on the sky above you. Through the sunroof of the car, you can see the night sky almost perfectly, with the occasional cloud obscuring the stars. The moon is only a sliver in the distance, its light faint on the world below.

Seokmin had driven you two to a nearby roadside park after dinner, where the pair of you wandered for a little while as the night darkened. Not wanting to end your summer date yet, you two decided to stargaze from the safety of the car. Neither of you wanted to be attacked by any bugs, of course.

Now, here you are, with your seats tilted back all the way so you can look up through the sunroof. Neither one of you knows much about the stars, so you are mostly just enjoying each other’s company, finger entwined with one another.

You see Seokmin shift out of the corner of your eye, turning your head to see him on his side, facing you. “What?”

He just smiles that bright smile of his, which makes you fall a little more in love with him each time, and shakes his head. “Nothing,” he replies, tugging your hand to his lips.

You narrow your eyes at him as he kisses the back of your hand. “Hm. Are you sure? Because the stars are up there,” you say, pointing to the sky.

“Yeah, but the brightest star is in here,” he tells you, reaching over to brush a few stray hairs from your face.

You can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks, rolling your eyes at his words. “You can be so cheesy, Seok,” you chastise playfully, squeezing his fingers.

He lets out a low chuckle and disentangles his hand from yours, reaching up to brush his thumb across your cheek. “Maybe, but you love it,” he returns softly.

He’s right, and you both know it. Sometimes his cheesy lines did make your heart flutter, and your breath to hitch in your chest. You smile at him and turn your head to press a kiss to his palm. “I do, because you say them.”

Seokmin smiles and leans over the gap between the seats to catch your lips with his, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear as you kiss. He keeps it soft, his lips melding against yours easily.

Your eyes close, brows furrowing as you rest your hand on his wrist. Even though it’s a soft kiss, neither of you deepening it, it causes your heart to beat wildly against your ribs. The way his lips feel on yours, his hand on your face, just how easy and good it feels.

You break away after another moment, pulling in a deep breath as he nudges your nose with his. “You know you’re good at that?” you tease with a small smile.

You hear him laugh softly, his breath fanning over your face, as he slides his hand down to your side. “Oh yeah? Can I show you what else I’m good at?” he asks.

“Are we doing show and tell now?” you ask with a quiet giggle.

He shrugs as he reaches his other hand over, grabbing your waist and pulling you across the gap and into his lap. “I like that idea. I think it’s your turn then,” he replies, smoothing his hands over your shoulders and pushing your cardigan down your arms.

You lick your lips as you look down at him, discarding your cardigan into your now empty seat. “That was my sweater. I got it last week on sale,” you tell him with a grin.

Seokmin chuckles as his hands slide up your legs, squeezing your thighs gently. “I already knew that. You have to tell me something I don’t know. Or show me something,” he teases, his thumbs moving in slow circles on your skin.

You lick your lips as you feel his hands on your thighs, your own hands finding the hem of your dress. “Well, your smile is one of my favorite things,” you tell him softly, twisting the fabric of your dress between your fingers.

Of course it makes him smile, and he takes your hands into his, linking your fingers together. “My turn,” he says as he tugs you forward gently so you’ll land on his chest. He doesn’t say anything more as he closes the small gap between you two, softly kissing the corners of your mouth.

Your eyes flutter close as your heart nearly skips a beat within your chest at his actions. You feel him press more kisses across your jaw and down your neck, instinctively rolling your hips over him as his hands rest on your sides.

He groans against your skin, pulling back to look up at you again. “Is show and tell over?” he asks teasingly, his voice low as he slides his hands down to your hips. He plays with your dress that’s bunched up there, teasing your skin with his thumbs.

A quiet sigh leaves you as you sit up a little, shrugging one shoulder at his question. “I don’t know. Should it be?” you asked, reaching up to push the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

Seokmin licks his lips as he watches you pull your arms from your dress and push the top half down to your waist, leaving you in your bra. He doesn’t answer your question as one hand moves to your core, rubbing his thumb over the fabric of your underwear, and he grins as he feels the wetness that has gathered there. “Guess not.”

You whimper as he pushes your underwear to the side, sliding one finger over your folds. “Seok…” you whisper, your eyes closing again as he slips that finger into you.

“Should I show you how wet you are?” he asks, curling his finger slowly inside you. He slowly adds a second, hit bottom lip getting caught between his teeth as he watches you rock your hips on his hand.

The heel of his hand is on your clit, and you grind down on his hand, a pang of pleasure hitting you. “I— Oh,” you gasp as he hits your g-spot.

He doesn’t say anything as he continues, the sounds of his fingers inside you mixing with your breathy moans. He presses his hand against your clit as he pushes his fingers even further into you, his cock straining in his jeans underneath you.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist as you whisper out a “stop”, causing Seokmin to furrow his brows with concern as he stills his hand.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head as you open your eyes, your cheeks tinged pink in the low light. “No, I just… I want you,” you breathe out, steadying your other hand on his chest.

He smiles at your words and pulls his hand back, nodding as he adjusts you on his lap. He doesn’t say anything as he leans up to catch your lips in a kiss, nipping your bottom lip gently. One hand holds your cheek as his other works at the button on his pants, his tongue swiping across your lips.

Your hands join his as you help him with his pants, though you have to brace yourself against his chest as he lifts his hips to push his pants and boxers down enough to free himself. You pull back from your kiss as you reach down to take his cock in your hand, smiling as he groans at the feeling.

“Up, baby,” he instructs quietly as his hand replaces yours.

You lift your own hips, leaning forward so your chest is flush with Seokmin’s, and bury your face into his neck. You whine as he teases your entrance with his head, his other hand on your hip to help steady you. His name spills from your lips again, hanging in the air as you slowly lower onto him.

He bottoms out as he grips your hips, your palms flat against his chest as you allow yourself to adjust to his size. “You feel so good. You always take me so well,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to your jaw.

You pull in a shuddering breath as you start to move on top of him, resting your forehead against his. “Just shut up and fuck me,” you mumble against his lips.

He nods and picks up his pace, helping you bounce on top of him. His fingers curl into your dress at your hips, gripping tightly as he snaps his hips up to meet yours. He’s making you see stars with every thrust, and you can’t help the quiet whines that he pulls from you with each one.

Rain starts to patter against the car, though neither of you notice being so lost within each other. Low moans and groans harmonize with the drops on the glass, and you can feel your orgasm on the brink as you bury your face into Seokmin’s neck again.

The pad of his thumb finds your clit, causing you to let out a small cry as one hand slaps against the foggy window. His lips crash against yours once again as you ride out your high, his hips stuttering as he spills into you shortly after. Neither of you pull back from the kiss as you both slow to a stop, and you slide your hands up to hold either side of his neck.

A quiet rumble of thunder seems to break your trance, and you pull back just enough so you both can breathe again. You both are smiling into soft pecks as you hold each other, his hands moving up and down your back gently.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says finally, his voice soft as the rain.

You shake your head and rest your cheek against his chest, your eyes closing as you let out a contented sigh. “So are you,” you whisper. You trace a random pattern on his chest as you yawn, knowing you’re going to have to move eventually. “We should go stargazing all the time.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #dk smut #dokyeom smut #seokmin smut #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #dk fluff #dokyeom fluff #seokmin fluff

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years

Note

Hello miss Squiggily! Since you still have slots open, mind if I request a haikyuu fic with lee Kageyama, and ler mainly Yamaguchi (some of the teammates may help as well it's up to you), have a nice day Squi!

Heyo anon! :D Thank you! This prompt was so cute, and I love a good rarepair, platonic or romantic! I hope you like it and have a great day aswell!

“Yamaguchi. Can you show me how to do that?”

The mentioned boy startled, turning around to find an unexpected face. “K-Kageyama? Wait, what?” He stammered. Surely he wasn’t asking him for help- not the king of the court!

“The floating serve you do. It looks interesting. Can you show me how to do it?” Kageyama asked again, furrowing his brow. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to-”

“No!” Yamaguchi cut in, cringing on how sharp it came out. “I mean- Sure! I’ll teach you-just; why the sudden interest? Your jump serves are already powerful.”

“Just because I’m good at one thing doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn other stuff.” Kageyama shrugged. “You make them look so…effortless. I wanted to know what it takes to do it.” The setter averted his eyes, clearing his throat. “So…yeah, what do you say?”

Yamaguchi stared at him, his heart speeding up. He made them look effortless…him! When just a few games prior he was flopping at the whistle. His chest twisted with an odd sense of pressure and…joy.

He started to smile.

“Okay. I’ll do my best to help. Fair warning, I’m not a great teacher though.”

Kageyama rolled his eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

~~~

Two things were learned that evening.

One: Yamaguchi’s claim on not being a great teacher had some merit.

Two: Kageyama might have been a setting prodigy, but serves were his weakness.

“Ah! Why does it keep doing that?” He grunted in frustration at the ball once again flying off course. Yamaguchi had tried to explain it to him, but the most he could get out was “It’s kinda like a leaf getting carried off in the wind, sorta.” Which was great for description, but not so much in terms of technique.

“U-Um, perhaps it’s your hands…” Yamaguchi offered shakily, growing more anxious as Kageyama grew more frustrated. When the setter turned to look at him, he flinched at the angry stare. “Or it could be something else, I might be just seeing things-”

“Yamaguchi.” Kageyama closed his eyes, willing his expression to soften. “What about my hands?”

“Right. Um- it’s the way you hit the ball. H-Here, it’s easier if I show you.” He got up and walked over, standing just behind Kageyama and raising his arm. “When you serve, you have to hit it like this, right? And then…”

He trailed off upon feeling the other shake beneath his touch. Confused, he looked at where his hands were. One was resting on Kageyama’s forearm while the other sat on his hip. Perhaps he was uncomfortable? Feeling embarrassed, he started to pull away. “S-Sorry, that was-”

“Ha!”

Both boys froze, the sudden yelp of laughter Kageyama let out rang between them. The king blushed scarlet, eyes wide with embarrassment. Yamaguchi blinked. “Was that-”

“No! It wasn’t! I just-”

“You laughed-”

“No I didn’t!”

Yamaguchi stared.

And then he smiled.

“You’re ticklish.”

“No I’m not!” Kageyama backed up, arms coming to his waist protectively while he glared daggers at the other. “That was a fluke! I er-I laugh when I’m nervous!”

“You’re nervous? What for?” Yamaguchi asked, slowly walking towards him. Kageyama shuffled back, lips twitching in an involuntary grin.

“I-I don’t know! I just am!” Kageyama felt the wall of the gym hit his back, the giggles he fought so hard to hold back started creeping up his throat. “Stahahy back!”

“Hm…I don’t know. You seem rather stressed, Kageyama.” Yamaguchi smiled cheekily. “Maybe that’s the problem? We gotta loosen you up!” With that he dived forward, quickly closing the gap between them and scribbling his fingers against his sides.

“Ah! Waihiihihihihit! Yahahahhahamaguhuhuhuhchi!” The setter nearly collapsed instantly upon feeling the other’s fingers on his ribs, throwing his head back in mirth. “Coohohohohohme ohohohohohon, doohohoohohohn’t!”

“You’re not fighting back, so I’ll take it you’re enjoying yourself.” Yamaguchi giggled to himself, enjoying the rare sight. With each giggle and snort the setter let out, he felt his anxiety start to fade away. Feeling bold, he moved his hands up to Kageyama’s armpits just to see what would happen.

“AHEAHHAHHAHHA YOHOOHOHOU AHAHAHAHHAHAHASS!” Kageyama howled, shooting his arms down and effectively trapping them there. Yamaguchi lit up like a christmas tree.

“Bad spot I take it? Hehe.”

“DOHOHOOHOOHOHN’T YOHOHOHOOHU HEHEHEHEHE MEHEHHEHEHEHE YOHOOHOHOHU FREHEHEHHCKED JEHEHEHEHRK! STAHHAHAHAHHAP IHIIHHIIHIHIT!” Kageyama slid down the wall, curling up in a ball to hide his flushed cheeks. Feeling merciful, Yamaguchi pulled his hands away, stepping back and letting the breathless setter recover. “Heh, you know- you kinda remind me of Tsukki. He’s just as ticklish; once you get him going he kinda just gives up.” He blushed, suddenly nervous. “But uh- don’t tell him I said that.”

“Nohohohoted…” Kageyama huffed, lightly glaring at the sheepish first year before him. “Dihihihid you really have to dohoho that?”

“Did it help?” Yamaguchi asked back, genuinely curious.

Help what? Now that he mentioned it…Kageyama did feel less stressed. His chest felt lighter, and despite the near dizzying effect of the tickles, he did have fun. “I guess it did…huh. I feel better.” Yamaguchi seemed to glow at this, the effect spreading to Kageyama and making him grin back. “But do it again and I’ll kill you.”

“Gah! Ye-yeah sure! I gotcha!” Yamaguchi nodded quickly, the gesture so cartoon-like it earned a snort from the setter. “I’m kidding. Here- help me up. I’m ready to try again.”

The pair got back to serving practice, and while Kageyama couldn’t say he made any real progress in figuring out the serve, he did make progress in figuring out Yamaguchi as a person.

He liked what he learned.

I hope this was good!

#Haikyuu!!#yamaguchi tadashi #kageyama tobio #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #rarepair #this was so much fun to make!

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nessaxc · 3 years

Text

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Anything You Want || Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa takes you to his house after hearing a conversation you have with your friend about how attracted you are to him.

~ Rating: Explicit

~ Warning: NSFW 18+ ~ Sexual dialogue, Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Shameless Smut, Swearing, Pet name, Praise Kink, Rough Sex

___________________________________

"I really like him, but I don't think he's interested in me, and if I tell him, I'm worried that it'll ruin the friendship that we have," you confided in your best friend who you decided to hang out with at the court.

You got bored after one of the games. The thought of Oikawa was weighing on you more than you wanted to admit. You were conflicted because you wanted nothing more than to tell him how you felt but your biggest fear was that he wouldn't be able to return the same feelings. You imagined that he would just laugh in your face and brush it off like it was nothing because that's usually what he did when you suggested that you both should date and do all of that cute shit couples did.

"He's so beautiful and funny and amazing, and I'm none of those things," you whined, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

"Aw don't say that. You'll never know if you stay silent forever, you should tell him how you feel," your friend suggested, she placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it gently to try and comfort you.

"Yeah but if I tell him, he's going to reject me. Then things will get all weird and I'll be that person he waves to from afar all awkwardly, and that'll be the extent of our relationship because I went and messed things up," you said with a pout.

"I doubt that will happen, I bet he really likes you. You should tell him, sooner or later. Then when everything goes right, you'll be thanking me," she looked at you with a reassuring smile as she patted your shoulder.

"You really think so? I seriously doubt it. But thanks anyway," you heaved a long sigh and you looked up when your friend stood up from her seat.

"I'm serious, tell him. You're not going to regret it," she advised with a soft chuckle, "I have to be on my way now, it's getting late. I'll see you later," she winked and waved at you before she left.

"Bye!" you waved back quickly. As soon as she left, you found yourself in a trance about Oikawa, with your palm resting on your cheek. You couldn't stop thinking about his voice, how he said your name, and the way his lip curled into a smirk when you would greet him. He was perfect. You wanted him, with every fiber of your being, there was no denying it. Your only wish was that you had the courage to tell him how you felt, but it was easier said than done.

"Hey cutie, what are you still doing here?"

Speak of the devil. A shiver ran down your spine when you heard his voice all of a sudden and you whipped your head back to see that he crept up behind you, his hot mouth was against your ear and you jolted up from your seat.

"Tooru! You scared me," you laughed nervously and then you instantly thought back to your conversation with your friend, wondering if he was there the whole time which would mean he heard every word.

"Ah, I didn't mean to!" he said with a pout but it quickly faded into a mischievous grin, "The game’s over, so what are you still doing here?" he repeated, "Waiting to say goodbye to me?" he raised an eyebrow and you giggled in response.

"I was just about to get going actually," you swallowed thickly and pointed your thumb in the opposite direction of him, "it was nice seeing you though!"

You wanted to get out of there and fast, it was embarrassing to think that he probably heard everything you just said. He clasped your arm in his hand when you turned to leave in a rush, making you turn back to face him, the gesture making you a little startled. He let go of his hold on you when he captured your attention.

"Aw you're leaving? I was hoping maybe you would come hang with me." he smirked and quickly added, "Tell me you'll go home with me?"

You couldn't reject his offer even if you tried, if he wanted you to go home with him then of course you would, no questions asked. "Yeah," you nodded, "I can definitely go home with you."

"Good. Right this way, m'lady." he bowed dramatically before he extended his arm out for you, and you took his hand in yours without hesitation. A few minutes later he led you to his house and shut the door behind him quietly.

"So I'm not one to pry, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with your little friend back there," he whispered, his pupils blown with lust as he stared back at you, like he was shamelessly undressing each article of clothing from your body with his eyes.

"You did?" you blinked in surprise and you could feel the blush that was rising in your cheeks when he looked at you like that. You swallowed nervously as he took a step closer to you, "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I was going to check if you were still around, but then when I heard you say my name, and well I couldn't help but listen," he continued to murmur with that grin stuck on his face, his gaze remained unwavering as he took another step. "So you've got two options, we can pretend that I didn't hear a word of what you said back there or we can just fuck already," he shrugged his shoulders before adding, "Choice is yours."

You felt your throat go dry and your eyes fell to ground, you were a little taken aback because you didn't expect the rest of your night to go like this, not that you were complaining though. Without a second thought you quickly said, "The second one, please."

"Personally I liked the second choice as well. Smart girl," he winked playfully, which only made your breath hitch. He took one step closer so that there isn't a gap between your bodies anymore and a smirk spread across his face when he felt you shiver, finding your nervous state to be quite amusing. "I couldn't let you go home without you knowing something."

"Knowing what?" you asked as you locked your eyes on his, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

Your eyes only locked for a moment before his mouth pressed roughly against your own. You felt him laugh against your lips before he pulled at your lower lip, dragging it between his teeth before letting it go again. His broad hands gripped each of your upper arms, holding you in place while he kissed you.

"Tooru," his name involuntarily rolled off your tongue.

He parted from your mouth to say something smart you assumed but you pull him down for another kiss, just as rushed as the first. This time you captured his lower lip between your own, letting your teeth graze the soft flesh as you pulled back. He whispered your name the way you'd always longed to hear it; like something coveted, precious beyond measure.

"Tell me, Y/N, how long have you wanted to do that?" he asked, his tone hoarse and low.

"If I'm being honest, from the first day I met you," you answered with a coy smile playing on your lips.

"I was always here, maybe I just wanted to see if you had the guts to make the first move," he chuckled before pulling away from your lips.

You raked your fingernails through the fine hair at the nape of his neck before planting a warm kiss in the crook, and he failed to suppress a grunt at the back of his throat upon the sensation.

"What do you want, Tooru?" you questioned, placing a flesh flurry of light kisses on the underside of his jaw, letting your lips brush his skin as you spoke. You can feel his pulse there, furious and quick.

He took a moment before he replied, "Hm---anything," he breathed, shuddering at the invocation of his name and the gentle caress of your mouth, "Everything."

"So show me," you whispered in his ear, your hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin.

That did it. In one fluid motion he slid both his hands behind your thighs, feral and possessive, lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist, your hips held still against the wall. You gasped at the sensation in between your legs, already dampening with arousal, being pulled suddenly against his torso. Even through the layers of his clothing, you could feel the unnatural heat of his body.

You exploited your vantage, carding your fingers down through his hair as you lowered your lips to meet his, which are already parted expectantly. The wet brush of his tongue against your lips was a demand and a promise, both of which you handed yourself over to willingly. His tongue in your mouth was soft but sure, and you recognized so much of him in the kiss he gave you. Impatience takes over, and the second he pulled away you reach down to the hem of your shirt with both hands, yanking it over your head and tossing it to the floor in a careless heap. His darkened eyes skimmed over you and his tongue swayed across the shape of his lips, reverent, watching as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra and discard it.

"Mhm well hello beautiful," he whistled with a long smirk on his face and you felt your cheeks reddened up in response. He placed a tender kiss against your rib cage, another to the valley between your breasts, tracking his lips across the soft flesh to a nipple, and he doesn't hesitate before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it. The shock to your nerves travels straight to your core.

Keeping you pinned against the wall, he brought one hand up to your opposite breast, pinching the bud between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it experimentally. He relished the result, your legs gripping him tightly, inadvertently digging your heels into the small of his back. You worried that you could be hurting him, but his blissful groans and amplified vigor towards your breasts said otherwise.

"You're beautiful," he murmured as his tongue flicked against your nipple, "so fucking beautiful."

After a generous while, he returned his hand to the back of your thigh, readjusting himself, letting you slip lower against his body until your clothed heat rested against the growing tent in his pants, which made your inner muscles clench involuntarily. Seeking comfort and relief in equal parts, he rested his head on your shoulder, breathing in your scent. He started to grind his member against you, so eager for the pressure. Three times he did this, agonizingly slow, his husky voice whispering your name against your neck at each pass, and you can feel his teeth graze your skin.

With all the wetness and heat pooling in your center, you were sure that you could come right then and there, but he stilled himself as if on cue, looking back at you with lopsided grin. You pulled your legs away from him, your breath ragged.

"There's something I need to show you," he said with a growl.

"Anything, Tooru," you panted, "anything you want."

He took you away from the wall, wrapping one strong arm around your back to cradle you against him, and he carried you to one of the seats. He set you down on the edge of it before kneeling ceremoniously in front of you.

"Watch," he demanded. You are all too willing to obey, lying back to prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes centered on him as he hiked your skirt up toward your hips. He placed his hands on the inside of your calves, stroking them upward in a steady climb to reach your inner thighs, parting your legs even further as he goes, until he has enough space to crouch between.

At the first press of his plush lips to the inside of your knee, your heart started beating wildly in your chest. He maintained eye contact, trailing greedy kisses along the elegant line of your thigh, one after another. Every inch brought him closer to your overheated core. You trembled for him and he watched with fascination as your breathing became rapid and shallow.

Right before he reached his mark, he paused to lick his lips and you couldn't help but whimper at the sight of him. He rewarded you with a long, firm kiss against your clit, lighting up your nerves, the thin fabric of your panties the only thing still separating you from him. For a moment, he closed his eyes as if savoring it before pulling away, and you moaned his name, desperate for more.

"You're already soaking wet, fuck, I just have to get a taste." he chuckled. His expression was determined, dark pupils of his beautiful eyes wide with lust.

"Do it," you begged. "Oh god, Tooru, please."

"A girl who knows what she wants, I like it." he purred along with a short laugh. He hooked his fingers beneath the trim of your panties, brushing against the delicate skin near your entrance before bringing the garment down your legs and then off your feet. Without hesitation, he buried his head between your legs, licking you in a broad stroke across your folds.

A gasp escaped your mouth almost immediately and he moaned against you, making you want him all the more. You leaned forward and weaved your fingers into his hair, tugging gently and holding him close as he massaged you with his voracious tongue.

He became desperate for friction so he used one hand to palm at his hard member through the thick barrier of his pants, but it's not nearly enough, and watching the obvious effect you have on his desire filled you with an unfettered passion. You fucking adored him.

"You're so perfect, Tooru," you panted as he nuzzled against you, sucking gently on your clit. "So perfect, you have no idea."

He pressed down forcefully with the palm against his member, loving how exquisite his name sounded coming from you, each syllable balanced carefully on your tongue, even in the midst of your pleasure. He groaned, the rich gravel of his voice causing vibrations that set fire to you from the inside out.

With his free hand, he reached up, the pads of his fingers rubbing against your slick entrance, teasing you.

"Is this what you want from me, baby?" he whispered.

Every time you looked at him, you wanted everything from him, and you didn't remember how not to, you longed to say it but instead all that comes out is an urgent, "Yes Tooru, please."

He slid one finger between your folds, as deep as it could go, then a second, and you squeezed them with a keening whimper.

"Soft," he mumbled, his lips brushing against you as he twisted his fingers, those eyes trained on his task and never leaving it. "You're so soft inside."

You bucked against his hand, a wordless plea for motion, and he obliged, driving his fingers in and out at a steady pace. He set his mouth back to work against your clit, licking and sucking diligently until you are teetering on the edge of orgasm. Every fiber of your being is drawn taut, imploring him to guide you over completely.

"Oh god, Tooru, you're... oohhh, that feels so good. You're so good, Tooru," you purred, peeking down at him as you writhed against the consummate ministrations of his tongue and fingers. "I'm so close," you barely managed to utter.

His eyes flick upward, watching your face as the cord inside you snapped and you came apart against his mouth, his lips still smudged against you when you do. Your head fell back, and you mumbled his name again and again as that beautiful lightning raced through your system.

He angled back, allowing you to sit upright once the steady beat of your ecstasy faded. His gaze was unrelenting and his lips were moist, enraptured by your performance. After you were able to catch your breath, you quickly found yourself saying, "Your turn."

You sunk to your knees before him and began to pull his pants down so that they pooled around his ankles.

"Such a good girl, so eager to please, aren't you?" he said under his breath.

"I need to taste you," you murmured, your trembling hands moved to his boxers to casually slip them down so his member sprung free. He hissed softly as his hand lightly gripped at the back of your head as his other moved to his member, shifting it so that he could drag it against your lips, his pre-cum already dripping off of the head. It gave you a rush to know that you had already caused him to become so turned on. You had been waiting so long to see him like this, exactly like this. No more than an inch separated your lips from him, your hot breath making him tremble, and you could feel your mouth starting to water in anticipation. His heady scent made you dizzy with desire.

"That's right, take it baby girl," he voiced in a hoarse tone. The pet name nearly caused you to choke as you licked gently at the tip, causing his grip to tighten in your hair almost instantaneously. You massaged it with the flat of your tongue, lips pressed together tightly around the ridge to provide suction.

"Don't tease me, just take my cock," his tone wasn't one that was low or grumbled yet he was encouraging you and you couldn't help but want him even more now than when you first stepped in the trailer. Under any normal circumstances you would have found his words vulgar and probably walked away and never looked back, but the way he looked at you just made you want to do anything this boy ever asked you to do.

You slowly lowered your mouth onto his length, nearly taking him all the way in. It's thick and heavy on your tongue, and you wondered absently if he would fill up every part of you so well, because you'd sure be willing to try. Just the thought of it caused a heated pressure to begin building in your core.

"That's a good girl, take it all." he purred.

His small praises only riled you up, in fact, you began to crave them as you started to move up and down his length, taking whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth into your hand and pumping it rapidly.

"Fuck, yeah just like that baby, keep going," he cooed.

His hips bucked upwards lightly to meet your mouth, causing his length to hit the back of your throat and making you gag. You hollowed your cheeks as he continued to grow in volume, the praises falling from his lips sounding like heaven to you.

Every other thrust of his rigid member, now glistening with your saliva, is accompanied by an ardent gasp of your name. You can't ignore the throbbing in between your legs any longer, and you rubbed impatient fingers against your clit and damp, swollen folds. He slowed his pace as you moaned around him. His hand gripped at your hair again, pulling you off him with a loud pop, your lips now bruised from the way you had been taking him all this time.

"Tooru," you gasped, "I'm so wet for you, Tooru."

"Just for me?" he chuckled and then he quickly added, "Lucky me," he growled, "I figured if I'm going to cum, I might as well do it in your pretty little pussy first."

You stood back up on your feet and you didn't even respond as your hand moved to his cheek, standing on your tip-toes so your lips could collide once again. He smirked in the kiss as you jumped up, your legs wrapping around his waist as his hands gripped at your thighs. He pressed you up against the wall, shifting your skirt lightly so that his length could slip underneath the thin fabric.

You still had your panties on but it seemed as if he had grown too impatient for one more unnecessary step. He slid them to the side in a hurry and positioned his length in front of your entrance.

"What could you possibly need?" he snarled, the rough grate of his voice a full octave lower than usual. He pressed the tip of his member between your thighs, running it back and forth along your soaked folds, "Tell me exactly what you need."

"You." you replied promptly, eyes pleading, eager to have him inside you, but he refused to give. You had none of his discipline. Needy whines escaped your lips as you squeezed your thighs together, gliding your clit across his shaft in a last-ditch bid to alleviate some of the mounting tension, you would have done anything just to have him inside you. "Please Tooru, I need you. I need you inside me."

The corner of his lip pulled up in a smirk, his eyes meeting yours with a glint of amusement. He chuckled, making you let your guard down before he shoved his length into you. As if on cue, you both let out a moan, and he gave you a moment to adjust before pushing the rest of his length inside you.

He seemed to get the hint when you began to lightly grind your hips down onto him, eager to feel him take you deeper. He began at a slow pace, building up a rhythm that had you begging for more within seconds.

"Calm down baby girl, we're just getting started," he said with a laugh. You continued whining as his pace barely gave you any of the satisfaction that you so desperately needed. He wanted you to be crying out his name and he was determined to get just that.

"You're mine now," he growled as his thick member stretched your walls like he belonged there. "No one else can have you; do you understand? You're mine, and mine alone," he whispered, his words suddenly turned dark, as his thrusts got harsher, accentuating certain points of his words.

You wanted to speak; you needed to say something, anything, but the coiling tightness in your stomach reduced you to a mewling mess.

"Answer," he barked, increasing his authoritative grip on your hips as he angled himself upward to hit a particularly responsive spot within you.

"Yes!" you cried out, rocking back to match him stride for stride. "Yes, Tooru, I-I understand. I'm yours," the last part comes out as barely more than a whisper, your mind occupied with the one thing you knew to be true: that you always had been.

"Then I am yours," he murmured, wrapping his voice with a gentle cadence that made your frantically pounding heart skip a beat. His pace slowed to an even, tamed rhythm and he reached down past your hip to rub circles over your clit. "Would you like that, Y/N?"

"M-more than anything," you stuttered. Your legs tightened around him as he buried his face in your neck, his hot breath covering your soft skin and leaving goosebumps in its path.

"Please," you breathed out, growing desperate for more than what he was willing to give you.

"Please what? Use your words, baby girl," his thrusts slowed again, becoming shallower as he waited for a response.

"Harder, please," you whined as he thrust upwards rather harshly, catching you off guard as he smiled at you menacingly. "You're even prettier when you beg like this. You're so fucking perfect."

His grip on your thighs tightened as he sped up his pace to one that now had you going mad. You threw your head back, trying your best not to cry out at the realization that you were still in this trailer that he had taken you to. He suddenly pressed his lips against yours, hungrily kissing you with such passion and rigor you felt yourself falling further.

"Oh god, Tooru... I-I'm... oh, I'm close," you warned him, feeling yourself on the crest of your climax. You panted against his lips as he pulled back a bit, his eyes now directly locking with yours.

"Come for me," he ordered, "be a good girl and come for me."

You cried out as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your back arching even against the wall that was supporting you. He continued to thrust into you through your high until his hips came to a halt, his seed spilling inside of you. He bit down against your shoulder as he came down from his climax, and you could already feel a bruise forming beneath the surface but it was nothing compared to what had just happened.

It was a good few minutes before he pulled out of you and planted you firmly on the floor, careful to make sure you could stand on your own two feet. You felt dirty but you loved it, the feeling of his cum now sticky inside of you as you panted heavily, your body shivering.

He began to pull his boxers up, his pants following as he buckled his belt, and he turned to look at you with a sinister smirk on his face.

"Looks like you'll have a story to tell your friend now, huh?" he winked.

You swallowed a nervous gulp, you were still hazy from it all, but if one thing was clear it was positively your adoration for him and you relished in what just occurred between you two after all that waiting.

"Tell her now that you're spoken for," he leaned down to plant a soft, affectionate kiss upon your parted lips, "Now get dressed so we can take this to your bedroom."

___________________________________

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duskholland · 4 years

Text

Cuddle Buddies | Peter Parker

summary ↠ you’re touch-starved, Peter’s your best friend, and there’s a whole lot of unresolved romantic tension between you; friends to lovers.

word count ↠ 3.4k

warnings ↠ uh oh.... there’s only one bed..? additionally maybe two swear words? also copious amounts of fluff lmao

a/n ↠ so apparently I really wanna cuddle Peter Parker. wbk. this is very cute and made me so soft when I wrote it. I hope you enjoy it! please let me know if you have any thoughts :D

“God damn, MJ, I think I’m actually going to die if I don’t get a hug soon.”

You’re rambling, your voice full of heavy frustration. Your hair is unkempt and messy from all the times you’ve run your fingers through it, and you stare at Michelle with a wild look in your eyes that makes her press a hand to her hips and laugh lightly.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really good at being dramatic, Y/N?” She replies casually, causing you to mock an outraged gasp. You sit down at the lunch table together, setting down your trays in front of you.

You manage a glare at your friend. “You’re so mean to me,” you whine. “You don’t understand how desperate I am.”

MJ narrows her eyes. “I don’t think it’s possible to die from lack of human contact,” she chimes.

“Who’s dying?”

You startle as a third, familiar voice joins the conversation, and crane your neck to see Peter slipping into the open seat beside you. He gives you an easy smile that stretches all the way to his soft, lovely brown eyes, and you feel your heart ache.

“No one’s dying,” Michelle replies. When Peter shoots her an inquisitive look, she adds, “Y/N thinks she’s going to perish if she doesn’t find someone to hug.”

You scowl at MJ, biting the inside of your cheek as you try not to let the embarrassment show on your face. It’s one thing to have this conversation with MJ - your close friend and number one confidant - but Peter? It’s an entirely different story. He may be your best friend, but your feelings are far more than simply platonic when it comes to him.

“Oh…” Peter looks at you curiously, his eager eyes darting over your face. He leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands, looking utterly adorable with his face pulled into a cute smile. His grin widens as you meet his gaze, and he nods knowingly. “Hugs are nice.”

You nod in appreciative agreement. “Exactly!”

MJ just rolls her eyes. “You guys are so weird.”

Ned joins the table and begins talking to MJ about a chemistry project, and Peter turns to you properly.

“Hey, so, are we still on for that study session later?” He asks you, his teeth briefly gliding across his lower lip. You try not to focus too much on the curve of his mouth, but it’s very difficult.

“Um, yeah,” you squeak, feeling your cheeks heat up a little as you remember the arrangement you’d made with Peter earlier in the week. “Mine or yours?”

“Yours?” Peter suggests.

“Okay. My parents are still away on business, so it’ll just be us. Is that okay?”

Your friend nods his head, his fluffy brown curls shifting around his face. “Sounds great.” Peter gives you a nervous smile, and it sets your heart racing. “I can’t wait.”

-----

Peter turns up a little after 7pm, a box of pizza in his hands. You spend a while chatting and watching Star Wars, and then eventually pull yourselves around to studying. You opt for your bedroom, with its very comfortable fluffy carpet, and you spread out all of your notebooks and pens around you before lying on your stomach and lazily flicking through your notes. But you can’t quite focus because something is amiss.

Peter is acting very oddly tonight. And he’s normally a little hyperactive, but it’s as if he’s on another level entirely. He keeps glancing up to you, then looking away the moment you bring your eyes up to meet his, and he hasn’t stopped drumming his fingers over the front of his maths textbook all night. You’re already nervous enough being around him, alone and within such close proximity to him, and his antics aren’t helping you at all.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on Peter Parker. Possibly. But you’d never tell him that.

“Pete,” you say, reaching breaking point when you catch him staring at your face for the fifth time in one minute. You sit up and turn to look at him, meeting his guilty, rose-tinted face. “What’s going on? You seem so unsettled. Are you okay?”

Peter opens and closes his mouth a few times, his eyes meeting yours nervously. His voice is more a squeak than anything else as he says, suddenly, “Do you want to cuddle me?”

You blink, totally blindsided by the change in topic.

“Uh, cuddle you?”

“Um, I mean, sorry, that’s such a weird thing to just come out and say, I- I just remembered earlier, with MJ, what she was saying, and I was wondering if you’d want to hug me, if you- if you want a hug so badly.” Peter breaks off, a disgruntled groan coming up his throat as he buries his flushed face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Y/N, shit, that was such a weird thing to ask. Can we just pretend I never said anything?”

You chuckle, your lips pulling into a wide smile. “You would let me hug you?” You ask gently. Peter parts his fingers and looks at you through the gaps, nodding slightly. “I’d like that, Peter.”

He looks so shocked by your statement that it brings another quiet laugh from your mouth. “O-Okay.” Peter clumsily opens his arms. “Um, here?”

It’s painfully awkward at first. He’s sitting at the foot of your bed, his back resting up against the mattress, so you have to do a weird sort of crawl over to him, feeling his wide, anxious eyes pressing onto your figure the whole way. It doesn’t help that you’re practically shaking from nerves now.

You’ve known Peter since the start of high school, but you’ve not really hugged him before. The most you’ve shared is a brief celebratory high-five after acing a biology presentation together, and even that contact had lingered in your mind for days after. The concept of crawling up to and hugging your crush makes your palms sweaty and your mind a numb anxious mess, but you do it, because it’s Peter, and the opportunity to cuddle up next to him is so enticing you think you’d do anything just to feel his arms around your body.

The angle is difficult, but Peter spreads his legs out across the carpet and pats his thighs, and you realise he wants you to straddle his lap, so you clamber into his hold gently. He’s sturdy beneath you, with a pair of dark denim jeans stretched over his firm thighs, and he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in. You let your hands find his sides, and then you settle into a very close, very intimate hug with your best friend.

It’s lovely.

He smells of soft bubbles and peppermint, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, partly because it’s comfortable, but mostly because you don’t want him to see the massive, embarrassing grin fixed to your mouth. Your heartbeat’s going crazy - you can feel it pressing against your ribs almost painfully, and it only doubles in speed as Peter’s hands move slowly across your back, rubbing large, soothing circles over your hoodie. You savour the moment, your eyes closed as you enjoy just being held by your best friend.

“Is this okay?” Peter asks, after a few moments.

You hum against his neck, squeezing his torso softly. He’s wearing one of Midtown’s navy hoodies, and it feels particularly soft against your forehead. “Thanks, Pete,” you mumble, enjoying the moment entirely too much. “You’re really good at hugs, you know that?”

“You’re also a very nice hugger,” Peter replies. You swallow deeply as you feel him tighten his grip on your sides and pull you even closer.

“Sometimes it’s just nice to be held,” you find yourself saying. You’re starting to feel really comfortable now, and find yourself relaxing and shifting further into him.

“Definitely.” His voice is still ringing at a higher pitch than you’re used to, but you put it down to the late evening hour. “Um, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“If you, uh, ever need another hug, you can always text me.”

You’re so glad you have your face buried in Peter’s warm neck because the grin latched to your lips is so large you think you’d die from embarrassment if your friend could see how giddy his words make you feel.

“Okay,” you say. “Thanks, Pete.” You pause for a moment, and take stock of the way he seems to be clinging to you just as tightly as you are to him. “You can always text me too, if you ever want a hug. Or anything, really.” You manage to collapse your smile so it’s more of a weak grin, and you pull back to look at Peter. His hands fall down to loosely grasp at your hips, and you find him looking at you with warm, attentive eyes and a wide smile hanging from his pink lips.

He looks so cute, and relaxed, and perfect, and you really can’t believe your luck that you’re sitting holed up in his arms just now.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbles shyly, eyes flittering across every part of your face. “You’re a great friend.”

You deserve an Oscar for maintaining the smile on your face, despite the way his words stab painfully at your heart.

“You too, Pete,” you mutter. “The best friend ever.”

The air between you holds just a little too much tension, so you shift and push your face back into his shoulder, hugging him again. Peter’s arms tighten around your waist, and you sigh softly, revelling in rare the feeling of him so close to you, even if it isn’t under the circumstances you crave. You’d take anything Peter could offer you, even if it makes your heart ache.

------

It easily becomes a habit.

Soon enough, it’s been three months, and you’re spending almost every evening with Peter. The more you meet up, the more natural folding into his arms becomes, and soon you find that your favourite parts of the day are the moments you share curled up together.

Sharing affection with Peter is easy, but it comes at a cost - it ties your heart up in knots to spend so much time pressed up against his chest, acting so intimately with him, but then to pull back and go back about your day like nothing really happened. Every second you spend hugging him hurts you because your heart yearns so deeply to have more, but you just can’t bring yourself to tell him how you feel. You value your friendship with Peter too much to risk ruining it all because of a stupid crush, and you’re not ready to stop your evening shenanigans, so you decide to just put up with it and suffer in silence.

A few months into your arrangement, you find yourself at Peter’s when the power across the city goes out in the middle of a thunderstorm.

“Holy shit,” you mutter, shivering as you glance outside and see a flash of sharp lightning cut across the city. The rain pelts down against the pavements so loudly that you can hear it through the gap in the window. You turn and look at Peter, wide-eyed. “Bet you’re glad the Stark internship let you leave earlier than usual today. I’m not looking forward to walking back in that later.”

“Y/N, you can’t go home in the middle of a thunderstorm, especially if the power is out,” Peter tells you firmly, his arms crossing over his chest. He looks so cute with his eyebrows scrunched into a caring scowl that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Stay here tonight. May’s out of town, but I can sleep on the sofa. I don’t want you to go across the city by yourself at the moment.”

You bite your lower lip, eyeing the slants of rain that pour over Queens. “It does look pretty horrible out there,” you admit. Your expression shifts into guilt as you eye Peter closely. “You can’t sleep on the sofa, though. I will.”

“No, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Peter, it’s your apartment, I’m not about to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Then join me.”

“In your bed? With you?”

“Yes.” Peter’s face is a bright red as he flusters, “Um, only if you’re comfortable with that though, Y/N. You don’t have to. I just thought that- because, y’know, we’re kinda… close now, you might want to. But you don’t-”

“I want to,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can think them through properly. You’re rendered utterly incapable of sensible thought, because Peter’s looking at you so intently that it whips the breath straight out of your lungs. “Really, Pete, that would be nice, if you’re sure you don’t mind..?”

“No! I want to,” he replies. Peter runs his delicate fingers through his brown waves, pushing his strands away from his face easily. His smile is gentle, and it grows as you return it shyly. “I’ll go get you some clothes.”

You make light conversation as you both get ready for bed together. Peter even finds you a spare toothbrush in the cabinet beneath the sink, and you pull faces at him in the mirror as you brush your teeth together side by side. It feels so domestic, but also incredibly comfortable and normal, and you decide that you feel more at home by Peter’s side than you do anywhere else in the world. You realise that maybe you’d just been deluding yourself each time you’d dismissed your feelings for him as simply a crush. Maybe, your feelings run a lot deeper for your friend - far deeper than you’d ever intended for them to grow. Because you realise, as Peter laughs loudly when you pull a face at him in the mirror, that your feelings for the boy have taken firm root in your heart, and you’re absolutely fucking in love with him.

“So, um, I normally sleep on the left side, but I can swap if you want that side,” Peter tells you. The power has finally come back on and the weather has cleared up, but neither of you comment on it as he closes his bedroom door behind you and gestures at his nice, gingham-patterned bedspread.

“I can go on the right side,” you offer.

Peter turns off the light and you both shuffle to your respective sides of his bed. You’ve been in his room a thousand times before, but you’ve never ventured beneath his lovely soft covers, and you find yourself sighing slightly as you shuffle beneath the duvet. His pillows are light and feathery, and your head sinks into them easily.

He seems intent to stay as far away from you as possible, and he clings to the far edge of the mattress. It brings a frown to your mouth, but you let him be; if that’s where he has to be in order to feel comfortable, then you’ll let him stay there. Just because you feel something else fluttering about in your heart for him, does not mean he feels the same way - even if you were sure he’d been hugging you a little closer, recently, and staring at your lips more than he used to. But maybe that was all in your head.

“Do you need anything?” Peter asks slowly. You stare up at his ceiling, your eyes taking in the dark curves of his smooth roof.

“No,” you reply. “Your bed is very comfortable.”

You hear the sheets ruffle as Peter slowly turns over. You fold over onto your side and find yourself facing him, his bright eyes twinkling slightly beneath the light that streams in from the city outside. He looks very cute, with the duvet bunched up beneath his chin and his fluffy hair all messy and waved out across his forehead, and it makes you happy to see him so relaxed and free. Sometimes it feels as though Peter carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you’d give anything to see him gentle and carefree like this. It makes you feel a surge of pride to know you can give him just a little bit of peace.

“Yeah, I dunno where May got the mattress but it’s amazing.” Peter breaks off, shifting around a little, and you freeze up when you feel his hand brush against yours beneath the covers. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he mutters, immediately jerking his hand back. You can just about make out the dark flush of his cheeks.

“‘S okay,” you murmur, biting your lower lip. A beat passes, and then you add, “We hug all the time, Peter. You can touch me, y’know.”

He takes it as an invitation, and he tenderly reaches out. His warm hand finds the curve of your waist, and you stay remarkably still as he slowly shuffles a little closer.

“Is this okay?” Peter whispers into the air.

“Yeah.”

Finally you unstick, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You shift towards him, as if magnetised, and your hand goes up to rest on his side, too. His t-shirt feels soft beneath your hold, and you find your mind reeling as you take in his warmth, his scent, his touch.

Peter’s face is very near you now. Your legs are tangled together. Your head shifts onto his pillow, and suddenly he’s holding you flush against him, your noses almost touching.

“Y/N,” he says slowly. His eyes are wide and nervous, and they keep dipping down to settle on the curve of your lips.

“Pete,” you respond, your voice fragile. You can hardly keep still, for how nervous you’re feeling now. He’s pulled you right against him, and for the first time, you question whether your feelings are actually one sided. His warm fingers burn against your side, tracing delicate circles over the material of your borrowed shirt. “You’re really close.”

“Do you want me to move?” You’ve never heard him like this before: all warm, and gentle, and inviting. It ignites a whirlwind of butterflies inside your chest, and you really can’t stop yourself from saying, quietly,

“I want you to kiss me.”

Peter’s lips are on yours before you know it. Soft, at first, and a little bit bumpy and awkward. But he loosens up as you reach up and wrap your fingers around his hair, and you kiss him back with all that you have. Peter pulls you closer as you kiss him deeply, savouring the feeling of his warm, pillowy lips and enjoying the way your heart blooms in your chest as your best friend kisses you back. He releases a small noise of enjoyment into your mouth as you nibble over his bottom lip, and then he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth, and you’re making out, your figures lazily intertwined.

It feels so right to be kissing Peter that you briefly wonder why you’ve never tried this out before.

“I, um, I really like you, Y/N,” Peter whispers against you, when you finally pull back. Your lips tingle as you giggle into the air, your fingertips trailing through the soft strands of his chestnut hair. “In fact, I… I’ve been in love with you for months.”

Your mouth runs dry, and all you can really do to stop the tears of relief from slipping out of your eyes is lean in and kiss him again, hard. You kiss him like you’ve been dreaming about for months: slowly, passionately and lovingly - growing in tempo as you fervently try to convey everything you’ve kept hidden away inside your heart.

When you break away, you keep your lips nuzzled against his and breathe out a deep, “I love you too, Peter.”

You giggle together, and you feel so overcome with adoration for the boy that you simply have to kiss him again.

“D’you want to go on a date with me?” Peter asks gently, between gaps in your soft kisses. You finally move away from his lips and settle nearer, your forehead finding his chest as his arms encircle your waist and he holds you close in a warm, consuming cuddle.

“I would love to go on a date with you, Peter,” you mumble against his front. You smile softly as you feel his lips trail across your forehead, and your heart stirs happily in your chest.

“Okay,” he says, sounding immediately relieved. “I’m excited.”

You hum sleepily into his chest, your fingers curling around his strong back. “Me too,” you mumble.

“Night night, Y/N,” he says, his voice already being carried away as you drift further into dreamland. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Pete,” you reply. You know nothing else will compare to the feeling of being holed up in your best friends arms, with his lips scattering a dusting of kisses across your forehead, and you try to cling desperately to every single moment and sensation. “Sweet dreams.”

Peter leaves a final kiss on your forehead, and then you drift off to sleep with him, your figures entangled, and, for the first time, your hearts beating together as one.

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

any feedback?

masterlist

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfic #peter!friends to lovers #friends to lovers

3K notes · View notes

bumbleleewrites · 3 years

Text

Cotton Candy

Written using this prompt. Thank you, @soft--dragon ! (Kudos on your latest fic, by the way. I was blushing./pos) Summary: After the theme park vlog, Wilbur steals Tommy’s leftover cotton candy. Tommy tries to take it back, but Wilbur puts him in his place. [IRL, family dynamics] Lee!Tommy, Ler!Wilbur, Philza

Word Count: 2k A/N: I have not written something this long in a LONG time, so this had better be good./lh

The trip to Alton Towers had made for an exhausting day for everyone. For Phil, it was the effort needed to supervise the two hyper boys that had tired him. For Wilbur, it was pestering Tommy and keeping up with the teen that had taken most of his energy. For Tommy, however, it was a combination of things. The constant activity and racing around the park had been exhausting, for sure. But the day had been extremely emotionally draining, as well. Between the constant anxiety the intense rides caused him, and being rejected by the girl from his school, it had certainly been a lot for one day. Wilbur and Phil noticed this, so after retrieving their remaining buckets of cotton candy, they immediately headed home.

Tommy was reserved and toneless the entire car ride, hardly speaking and only half heartedly chuckling when someone made a joke. When they had finally unpacked their things and entered Wilbur’s home, nothing changed. He had just simply shuffled his feet over to the couch and flopped onto it. He was half laying down, with one leg on the sofa and one hanging off it lazily. After the other two had finished putting everything away, having been too sympathetic to bother the youngest any more, they entered the room themselves. Wilbur sat cautiously next to Tommy, clasping his hands together and rubbing his thumbs nervously. He glanced at Tommy briefly then looked away, sighing. Phil, meanwhile, chose a comfortable armchair parallel to them. He leaned forward and stared at the floor, knowing the boy would want some space.

The trio sat awkwardly in silence as the faint sound of a clock ticking could be heard in the distance. Minutes went by, before Tommy finally cracked. He sat up a bit and gazed around the room. The other two looked at him, hoping for him to say something. “So,” Tommy started, “That was fun.” Wilbur smiled, relieved, and replied, “Yeah, it was.” “Definitely,” the eldest added.

Tommy exhaled.

“You know, I think we still have some cotton candy left,” said Phil, attempting to cheer him up.

He grinned before rising to retrieve it. Tommy immediately perked up at the promise of more sugar, matching his posture to Wilbur’s with his hands clasped excitedly. The brunet snickered and rolled his eyes. Their heads both snapped over to Phil, whose footsteps had alerted them to his return. He held a bright yellow tub in his hand and shook it theatrically. “Here, enjoy your diabetes,” he joked, before tossing it in Tommy’s direction. The boy in question, however, was unprepared. He jumped when the container bounced off his shoulder before it rebounded and rolled towards Wilbur. The taller one snatched it and made a move to open it, placing his fingers on the corner of the lid. “Hey, hey!” Tommy yelled, leaning over to grab it. Wilbur saw him and stretched out his arm to hold it away from him, smirking playfully. The youngest whined. “Phil threw that to me! C’mon, Phil, tell him.” The eldest laughed lightly. “Well, Wilbur did buy it. And you don’t need all that sugar, anyway!”

“Yeah, Tommy, listen to Dadza,” Wilbur quipped, bringing the tub back towards his chest.

Tommy groaned and pounced on him, pushing his arm down to try to grab it.

“Give it!” he shouted.

Wilbur grinned cheekily and transferred the tub into his other hand, holding it above his head. “You bitch!” Tommy cried, grabbing onto the other’s shoulders in an attempt to gain leverage. The brunet yelled and batted at Tommy with his free hand. “Tommy, stop it!” he complained, smiling, still trying to lightly push him away.

Tommy let out a strangled squeak when he felt Wilbur brush against his side. He suddenly flinched away, falling back onto the arm of the sofa. The other two laughed knowingly, and shared a look, before Wilbur threw the cotton candy back to Phil and leaned over Tommy.

“The hell was that?” Wilbur smirked. “Sh-shut up!” he replied, about to stand up to retrieve his cotton candy from Phil. Wilbur was too quick, however, and promptly squeezed the boy’s side. Tommy recoiled with a shriek, and the other two chuckled at his reaction. Wilbur beamed excitedly at him. “Tommy, you’re ticklish!” he exclaimed. The blond blushed lightly and shoved him. “Oh, this is too good,” Wilbur continued. He leaned over and pushed Tommy’s shoulder into the couch, preventing his escape. The boy squirmed, but was simply too tired for it to do anything. Wilbur placed his free hand on Tommy’s side, tapping his fingers against it menacingly. “Wilbur, c’mon, I- you can keep the cotton candy!” he protested. He reached up to shove at his chest, but was interrupted by the tapping turning into light scratching. He bucked in surprise and bit his lip, trying to keep in the laughter that was threatening to spill out. Wilbur tilted his head thoughtfully. “I have a feeling this isn’t a good spot for you,” he said. Nonetheless, he brought his other hand down to the boy’s other side and began spidering up and down them. Tommy let out a titter, his face becoming more flushed by the second. “Tommy, you can laugh!” Wilbur teased, but he meant it genuinely as well. The blond was conflicted, not knowing whether to feel reassured or flustered, but began giggling regardless. Wilbur hummed, pleased with himself, while Phil cooed at him from afar. “Aw, Tommy! I’ve never heard you laugh like that! It’s really charming,” Phil complimented. “Nohohoho Phihil behehe quihihiet!” Tommy yelled.

Wilbur slowed down a bit, and turned to look at the oldest man. “Hey, Phil?” he asked. “Yeah?” “I don’t think Tommy here is laughing nearly as much as he could be,” he said. He began poking the boy’s sides, producing light squeaks that were peppered in with his laughter. “I don’t think so either,” responded Phil lightheartedly, “Try his stomach!” ‘Phihihl yohohou bihihitch!” complained Tommy, as Wilbur accepted the suggestion and scribbled against the center of the boy’s abdomen. His laughter increased in volume as he sucked in his stomach, shifting side to side. “Aw, is this spot worse for you, Toms?” Wilbur asked tauntingly. The blond’s flush grew redder.

“Nahah- fu- fuhuhuhuck ohohoff!” he stammered. The brunet only dug in harder, causing him to shriek. “Nice one, Phil!” said Wilbur, looking over to him. He smiled and chirped, “Thanks.” He sauntered back towards the armchair and sunk back into it, watching amusedly. “Just make sure you don’t kill him, yeah?” The brunet chuckled and returned his gaze to Tommy’s flushed face. The younger boy weakly hit his hands, still laughing desperately. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” he responded, slowly lifting his fingers off the boy, but keeping them wiggling. He smirked smugly, making a big show of slowly trailing his eyes over his body. Tommy’s laughter slowed, but he remained giggling in anticipation. “Now, where should I go next?...” he asked.

Tommy shook his head. He reached up to grab Wilbur’s hands, who pulled them away and tutted. The tallest’s arms were now raised so that his hands remained near his own face, shaped into claws. “Alright, Dampza, the choice is yours!” said Wilbur, in a tone comparable to that of a game show host’s. Tommy whined and covered his face. “Phil, Philza no!” he pleaded. Phil hummed thoughtfully. “PHIL!” he shouted, trying to push himself off the couch. Wilbur wrapped his arm around him, blocking his escape, and he groaned. “C’mon, Phil, he’s getting squirmy,” said the brunet. “His ribs, then,” he decided. Tommy shouted as Wilbur quickly slithered his hands under his t-shirt and began squeezing at his ribs. Too exhausted to put up a fight, he dissolved into shrieky laughter and arched his back slightly. His hands remained hiding his constant smile, and the way his eyelids squinted shut. “Is this one bad too, Tommy? Tell me, where’s been the most ticklish from where I’ve tried so far?”

A coral tinge spread to Tommy’s ears. “Wihihil!” he shouted, as the man began vibrating his fingers into the slight gaps there, “Wihihihl! Pleahaha- plehehease nohohot thehehehre!” “Not there?” he mocked, throwing a glance at Phil, “Where shall I move, then?” “WIHILBUHUHUR NOHO!” “Armpits,” the eldest responded. He was still smiling fondly at the pair’s antics. “WIHIL PLEHEHEASE NOHOHO!” “Begging already, hm? That must be a gold mine, then. I’ll save it for later,” Wilbur teased. He slowly dragged his nail’s down the boy’s skin, causing him to giggle and shift his hips from side to side. Wilbur noticed this and snickered, placing his hands on them. “Well these are just begging for my attention now, aren’t they?” Tommy whined tiredly. His eyes shot open then closed again when he felt Wilbur’s hands drill into his hips. He howled, thrashing back and forth. His movements were so intense, however, that he started to slip off the sofa. Phil suddenly looked over concernedly, leaning forward in case he needed to swoop in. Tommy’s torso was halfway onto the floor when he felt Wilbur’s firm hand leave his hip and scoop him up by his back. The brunet stopped and gave the boy an enthused grin. Tommy panted in between his faint giggles. “Alright, Wilbur, maybe it’s time for him to have a break,” the eldest spoke up. Wilbur nodded. “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. There’s just one more thing I’d like to try,” he replied. He grabbed Tommy’s hands and held them above his head. “Ready?” “For whaHAH WIHIHIBUHUHUR NAHAHAH!” he shrieked, as the man shot his hands into his armpits and wiggled his fingers. Tommy’s arms darted down to his sides. He quickly realized, however, that this would only trap Wilbur’s hands there. He raised his arms and shoved at him feebly as his laughter began to turn silent. “Wil,” Phil warned, about to stand up to intervene.

Wilbur recognized it was getting to be too much. He abruptly stopped and carefully sat back on his place on the couch. Tommy caught his breath before sitting up and glaring weak daggers at the older boy. Wilbur and Phil both stared at him adoringly. “You,” he wheezed, “You bitch!” Wilbur reached over and squeezed his knee warningly. Tommy recoiled with a small squeak that made the others coo and him blush. He pouted and crossed his arms, averting his eyes.

“I hate you both,” he mumbled. Phil leaned far over and ruffled his hair, at which the boy groaned with a poorly hidden smile. “No, you don’t,” smiled the other blond. “Yeah, Tommy, you love us!” Wilbur ribbed. Tommy rolled his eyes and gently shoved him. Phil sighed and shook his head fondly. He reached for the cotton candy, which had been shoved against his side, and leaned over to hand it to Tommy. He looked at Wilbur warningly while doing so. The brunet shrugged innocently, though a smirk remained on his face. Tommy’s eyes lit up and he accepted the offering gratefully, practically snatching it from Phil’s hands. “I thought you said he shouldn’t be having so much sugar!” quipped Wilbur. Tommy ignored him and continued to greedily open the tub. He dug out a large portion with his hands and shoved the fluffy blue substance into his mouth with a grin.

“After all that, I think he’s allowed,” Phil replied.

Wilbur smiled softly and scooted closer to Tommy, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. The boy flinched at first, but allowed himself to relax into the touch. “You want to watch a movie? Maybe Frozen?” asked Wilbur. Tommy smiled sheepishly at the fact that Wilbur had remembered him mentioning it earlier that day. “Mhm,” he responded, shoveling another handful of the sugary snack into his mouth. The brunet leaned forward to grab the remote and quickly lined up the film. Tommy leaned closer into him, and he beamed. The trio watched the movie peacefully that evening, poking fun at the overly dramatic parts and laughing when Wilbur attempted to sing along. And when Tommy fell asleep in Wilbur’s arms, with a nearly empty container in hand, they said nothing.

#mcyt tickle #lee!tommyinnit #ler!wilbur #ler!philza i guess?#how do i tag this #tickle fic #dsmp tickle #sfw tickles #tickle community #tickle blog

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blinder-secrets · 4 years

Text

In The Leaves

tommy x reader, 1,850 words

a bit nsfw, mostly power play and lusting

The house is quiet when you get home, shut off, and dark, and empty empty empty. You dawdle in the entry way. Drip your coat off, leave your bag by the hat stand. If Tommy’s in he’s sleeping, or hiding, or locked up in the office with his head in the whiskey. You unlace your boots and push them under the dresser, though he hates when you do that. There’s places for shoes, he says, put them away.

‘Tom?’

You call his name quietly, around the open door to his office. There’s no light, no man. He’s in bed, then. For once he’s beaten you to it.

You go upstairs, zigzagging on the wide staircase because you can, because it’s late and your time is still your own to play with. It isn’t often that you take nights for yourself. No Tommy, no business. Free to do as you please. You’d gone to Vera’s first, then to the dancehall, then to Polly’s house in that little village, with the pretty parks and the bridges. You’d made your driver wait in the car until you were bored, and you’d paid him handsomely for it. That was part of the novelty too; money from your purse, orders in your voice, followed, not questioned. You see why Tommy craves it.

‘I should go home,’ you’d told Pol, ‘he hates when I’m away.’

‘No, love, he just hates not knowing where.’

‘Oh,’ you’d said. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think that’s it at all.’

When you reach the top, your stocking snags on a splintered floorboard. You pull it twice, and then it’s free again, but there’s a rip from your heel to your ankle. They were new; you’d put them on straight from the packet.

‘[Y/n]?’ His voice comes from the bedroom, low and curling around the hallway. ‘That you?’

‘Yes, Tom,’ you answer. ‘I’ve ripped my tights on the stairs.’

You follow your voice back to him, chase it through until you’re in the doorway, and he’s in the bed, ignoring you like you’d said nothing at all. You were right. Not sleeping, but hiding. He’s sitting against the headboard, chest bare, with the covers to his waist. He looks young, boyish. There’s note-paper in his hands and two more sheets of it on his lap.

‘Where’ve you been?’ he asks, without looking from his reading.

You slouch into the doorframe. ‘Am I in trouble?’

His eyes flick to you. It’s so quick, it may have just been the light on his glasses. ‘If you want to be,’ he says.

‘I was at Poll’s house.’

‘Drinking?’

‘Of sorts.’ The tear in your stocking is growing, you lift your foot to feel your heel through the hole. ‘She read my leaves,’ you say.

He sighs, sets the paper down, and picks up the next. ‘Did she?’

Your foot hits the floor with a thump. ‘Don’t you want to know what she saw?’

No, he thinks. No, I don’t care, he thinks. No, I’m sitting and reading and not looking at you, not even once, because I’m Tommy, and I’m bored of everything that isn’t myself.

You watch for a reaction. A clue that you’re right, that he is thinking all that, but he’s just still. His eyes follow the lines slowly. He clears his throat once, and then flips the page over to read the back.

‘It involved the two of us,’ you add, ‘the pictures in the leaves.’

‘Hm?’

Sighing, you cross the room and climb onto the bed on your knees.

‘You’re no fun, Tommy Shelby.’ Not when you want him to be. Not when it costs his time.

You crawl over to him, then turn onto your back and put your head on his thigh. You set your cheek against the covers so you can watch him, so he can find you at the bottom of the page, so he looks at you without meaning to. ‘What’re you reading that’s so important?’ you ask.

‘Letters,’ he answers, dropping the word into your gaze.

‘From who?’

‘Important people, love.’

‘Can’t I know?’ You touch his elbow, running your fingers in circles around the ridges of his skin. ‘I write your letters for you, sometimes.’

The paper lowers enough that your hand becomes trapped between his arm and the pillow behind him. ‘You asked for the night off, didn’t you?’

From work. Not from conversation, not from him. ‘I suppose,’ you grumble. Your bottom lip juts out and you let it sit there. Watch me pout, Tommy, watch me sulk like a child.

He sighs. Then he stacks the letter with the others and puts them all, abandoned, on the bedside table. ‘Alright,’ he says, once he’s looking down at you again. ‘What did Polly say,’ he groans, settling into the bed, ‘about your tea?’

You pull your hand free and turn your head to the ceiling. Your arms cross over your chest. It doesn’t matter now, it isn’t as interesting. ‘I’ve forgotten. Something about changing responsibility.’

‘Responsibilities?’ His hand goes to your face, his index finger trailing the line of your nose, across your lips and over your chin, down, down until it’s resting in the hollow of your throat. ‘Yours or mine?’ he asks.

‘Ours.’

He hums, the noise is deep in his chest, tumbling lower and under your skull. ‘What else?’

Suddenly, you’re shy. Nervous to tell him. What Polly had seen had excited you, filled you up with possibility and wonder, left you curious. Wanting. Tommy’s scrutiny would kill that, you’re sure. He’d flay the ideas and leave you to gather the scraps. ‘Nothing important,’ you tell him. ‘She thinks I should let go more. Let myself be.’

‘You should.’ His hand flattens over your collarbone. It’s either mercy, or his interest peaking and withering between you, because he changes subject like the conversation’s over. ‘You ripped your stockings?’ he asks, question already answered in his tone.

You look back to him, smiling. ‘So, you were listening.’

His eyebrows raise, head tilting as if to say, maybe. Maybe he was. Maybe he’s seen the ladder running up your calf.

‘Will you buy me a new pair?’ you ask.

‘If you want.’

‘Fancy ones? French?’

He nods.

‘You’ll give me anything, won’t you?’ Anything with a price tag, anything material. If it was within reason, he’d say yes, he’d have it on your dresser in a ribbon by the morning. You loop your fingers around his wrist. ‘Anything but attention,’ you muse. ‘That, I have to work for.’

You watch him blink, watch him incline his head and wet his lips. ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

No, not most.

‘You like working for it,’ he adds.

You snort. ‘Not always.’

Sometimes it’s nice to start things, sometimes you like to pull the want from behind his bored eyes. To make him need you, to make him melt beneath, and give way, craving, falling to the tide. Other times, it feels like a chore. Another responsibility you hadn’t asked for.

‘I shouldn’t have to do it all the time,’ you say, quieter than planned.

‘You have my attention now.’

‘Because I took it,’ you say.

‘No,’ he corrects. 'Because I gave it.’

He hold’s your gaze for a moment. Something slips between you, a new tension that twitches under your ribs, scattering your heartbeat. It bubbles and gathers in your chest, forces your breaths to become quick and short. You’re sure he notices it. Sure he’s planned for it. He looks down at you, lay against his lap, like he’s waiting for the nerves to form; for anticipation to fizz your senses.

His hand slides up until its curving around your neck, thumb and fingers bracketing your throat. It stills there, baited, cold against your skin. ‘Is it enough?’ he asks. ‘Have you had enough, hm?’

You swallow; it runs under his palm, sinking into your gut. ‘No, not yet.’

He squeezes once, pulling lightly enough to get you to comply, and then you’re sitting up for him. Up and towards his chest, with his hand on your throat and your fingers scooped over his shoulders.

‘You don’t want to start things,’ he says, ‘not always?’

Your head shakes by itself.

‘Words, love.’

‘No,’ you answer.

‘Done making decisions, eh?’ His hand twists to hold the back of your neck, fingers splayed and straying into the base of your hair. ‘Tired of taking charge?’

‘Yes, Tom.’

He nods, the gesture is so slight it could have been nothing. ‘Take my glasses off,’ he says.

You do. You pull them from his face and set them on top of the papers, his gaze unmoving as you do so. The room’s quiet, but your head’s swelling with noise, your blood pumping loud enough to convince your eardrums that it’s in there. Filling your skull. Strong enough to dizzy you. When you straighten in front of him, his hands are on your waist, firmly, like he knows you need it.

Then he leans forward, pushing you backwards until you’re beneath him. Your arms are pulled upwards, flat on the bed, crossed at the wrists. He holds them there with one hand.

‘Have to let yourself be,’ he says by your ear. ‘You don’t want control, do you?’

You want to answer him. You want to tell him that this is what you’d meant, this is how it should be. Not always, but sometimes. A change of responsibility like the leaves said. When you open your mouth, all that pours out is a sweetened moan. It rides your breath over his shoulder and into the air.

‘No,’ you sigh. Not tonight. You don’t want control, you want this, you want this and him and attention until it’s flooding you. Until it’s too much.

Head lowered, he sinks kisses into your neck. Drags teeth and tongue down the line of your throat ’til you’re mewling. You lift up against him, back curved and eager, but he pushes back with his hips. Forces you down, subdued. Into the mattress and wanting.

‘Tommy,’ you whine.

He shushes you. ‘Leave them there,’ he says, as he pulls his hand from your wrists.

He goes upright, backwards and away from you, sitting on his heels like he’s praying. The sheet lies twisted around his knees. You wish he’d move it, you want bare skin against bare skin.

‘What shall I do with you?’ he asks himself. ‘Ay? How shall I have you?’

You’re putty waiting beneath his fingers. You’re honey, dripping, cloying, holding shape but slowly losing. His thumb finds the band of your stocking, pulls it taut against the clip that holds it there. Anything. Do anything. You’re his, you’re melting. You’re light pouring through the gaps and waiting, waiting to burst. Elastic snaps against your thigh. He smiles.

‘I like having you like this,’ he says.

Like you’re leaves, swirled and left in the cup. Wanting to be read, to be understood, to be laid out and fulfilled.

‘Like you’re mine,’ he finishes.

‘I am,’ you tell him. ‘I am, Tommy, I am.’

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy x reader #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #:)#enjoy please #i neraly tagged this as fem reader but hoenstly theres nothing that makes it such... its more like anyone who wears stockings reader #tommy x stockings!reader #lmao

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milazka · 4 years

Text

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟐.𝟏𝐤

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 & 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱.

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 - 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : @𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐚𝐥𝐝 « 𝐨𝐦𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐣𝐣 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐣'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐛'𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬? 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡»

𝐚/𝐧 : 𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐠𝐠𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞! 𝐢’𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤! 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞...

─── °• ❀ ───

The sky is covered with gray clouds, announcing the imminent arrival of the hurricane. Sitting on the wood railing of the gallery, you enjoy the calm of nature before the storm. The tall grass of the marsh sway to the rhythm of the wind, as if they were dancing.

“It’s gonna be a big one.” A voice says behind you.

You turn your head over your shoulder to see your best friend standing in the door frame, his arms crossed against his bare chest. Sweat still covers his body due to the fact that he and John B took the HMS Pogue out of the water to protect it from the hurricane. A joint in the corner of his mouth, he takes a few steps towards you, placing his hands on the railing on each side of you and presses his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re wearing my hoodie.” JJ says.

“I was cold, and I didn’t bring mine.” You explain, resting your head on his while some of his golden hair tingling your cheek.

“I like seeing you in my clothes.” He whispers to your ear.

You don’t even blush or react; you are used to flirt with JJ, you both do it all the time.

“Maybe I should head home.” You say to him before taking the joint between your fingers to inhale the smoke.

As soon as you’re done talking, torrential rain begins to fall from the sky and the wind start to blow hard.

“Looks like you’re not gonna go home tonight.” JJ smirks, watching the rain fall from the roof.

“Thanks Captain Obvious, don’t know what I would do without you.” You mock him with a wink.

He grunts in the crook of your neck, making you giggle. The rain intensifies and water drops start to fall on your bare thighs. You turn your body and drop with both feet on the gallery, finding yourself caught between JJ and the railing. You accidentally brush your hand against his crotch while you try to grab the phone in his pocket to see the time.

“Whoa baby, you trying to make me hard?” He smirks.

“In your dream, lover boy.” You sigh, pushing him gently to get inside.

The boy passes a hand through his hair; god, you have an effect on him that no other girl has! But he knows the damn rule; no pogue on pogue mackin and he would not risk your friendship just to have a good fuck with you.

Once in the house, you join John B in the kitchen. He is making a sandwich with the few groceries left that are not expired.

“Hey JB, is it okay if I stay until the storm calms down?” You ask while he’s decapsulating a bottle of beer. “My mom isn’t home and my brother can’t come to pick me up.”

“Of course, Y/n/n. I’m not gonna throw you out in the storm.” He giggles.

“Thank John B, you’re the best! And can I borrow a pair of sweatpants? I’m freezing.”

“Yep, check in the last drawer of my dresser.”

You make your way to the back of the house and enter John B’s room. Many Hawaiian shirts and bathing suits lay on the floor, not even fully dried. You take out a pair of grey sweatpants from the drawer and put them on the bed while you take off your shorts. Your back faces the open bedroom door, keeping you from seeing that JJ's eyes land on your butt only covered with black thong. His forearm pressed against the door frame; he can't help but smile stupidly at the sight of you, half-naked and wearing his hoodie. You jump when you hear someone whistle you. Quickly turning your body of 180 degrees, you pull the sweatpants up to your waist, making big eyes to JJ.

“Perv!” You shout to him while he giggles.

“You didn’t close the door, are you into exhibitionism, Y/n?” He smirks.

“And are you into voyeurism?” You reply, making him lose his smirk.

You proudly smile, tying the oversized sweatpants so they can fit you. You put back your worn red converses and walk towards JJ, stopping once you’re standing in front of him in the door frame.

“You enjoyed the view, didn't you?” You ask with a slight mocking grin.

“What makes you believe that?” He says, lifting an eyebrow.

You close the gap between you too, grabbing his shoulders with your hands and putting yourself on your tiptoe so that your mouth is a few inches from his ear.

“The bulge in your pants told me, baby.” You whisper, softly biting his ear before pulling away quickly.

You walk in the corridor smiling victoriously, leaving him alone and speechless. For once, you were the one who had the last word in your little teasing.

***

The power suddenly breaks while you admire Bodhi's Apollo body in the movie Point Break on the tv screen.

“Looks like hurricane Agatha has already began to make damages.” John b says, watching the rain hit the window. “I’m gonna go to bed, you two can sleep in the spare room.”

“Good night JB.” You say to him with a smile.

“Good night, sweetheart.” He says back, leaving you and JJ alone in the living room.

Still lying on the sofa, your head rests on JJ’s lap while he runs his hand through your hair. You put your hand in front of your mouth when you yawn, tired from the day. Slowly getting up and leaving JJ on the sofa, you head to the sink to fill yourself a glass of water.

"I'm going to be in the room." JJ tells you, walking towards the corridor.

You finish your glass of water watching nature go wild outside. Chills run through your body when you see a lightning strike on a tree near the house. You head quickly to the bedroom, banging your thigh against the kitchen table because you can’t see a thing in the darkness. The bedroom is lit up by the flame of a candle lit by JJ who is lying on the bed, shirtless. You subtly bite your bottom lip at the sight of his tanned and muscular body.

“Can you help me hydrate my back? I have a burning sunburn.” You ask, handing him a tube of body lotion.

He nods as he sits on his knees at the end of the bed, grabbing the blue tube. You put yourself in front of him, your back facing him and take off his sweater, keeping it pressed against your chest to cover it.

“You already took off your underwear for me, baby?” He teases you when he sees your naked back.

“You’re unbelievable, Maybank. I just hate wearing them, they are not comfort- Oh shit it’s cold!” You squeak when you feel the cold cream against your burning skin.

Chills run through your body as his hands gently rub your skin. In the mirror in front of you, you observe him concentrate as he applies the lotion on your skin. Your body tenses when his lips start to leave wet kisses along the back of your neck. His hands are now on your ribs, gently touching your skin with the point of his fingers while he continues to kiss your shoulders.

“We should not be doing this JJ…” You whisper trying to be the reasonable one.

“C’mon baby, I know you want it as much as I do.” He groans against your ear, making your head fall back on his shoulder.

“What about the rule?” You sigh, almost no longer controlling your reactions to his touch.

“I’m a rule breaker, baby, I don’t give a fuck about it.” He says, pulling you closer so your back is against his bare chest.

Shivers are sent down your spine when he starts to suck the skin of your collarbone. You take a deep breath with your eyes closed and stop thinking about the consequences for once in your life. You turn to face him, letting his sweater slide down your arms on to the floor. His eyes widen as they look down to your bare breast. Instantly, he grabs you by the waist and slams you on the bed, his body laying over you. His lips join yours for a wet and fiery kiss. Your hands on his neck, you draw him closer to you, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Don’t make me regret this.” You say, looking deeply in his eyes.

“I’m gonna give you the best fuck of your life, baby girl.” He teases before grabbing you under your knees to push your legs back and wide open.

He unlaces your sweatpants and takes them off at the same time as your thong. His head between your thighs, he kisses your skin and sucks it at a few places. Without any notices, he dips one finger inside you and start to move it back and forth. Your moaning is quickly smothered by his hand on your mouth, preventing sounds from coming out.

“You’re gonna need to keep it low, baby, unless you want John B to join us.” He smirks between your legs.

You roll your eyes and softly bite the palm of his hand with your teeth, making him giggles. His tongue starts to play with your clit while he adds a second finger inside you.

“Fuck JJ…” You moan in a low voice while you clench around his fingers.

“That was just the appetizer baby.” He smirks, grabbing you by the hips to pull you to the end of the bed where you sit, leaning on your hands behind you

Without breaking his gaze from you, he slowly slips his fingers between your lips to make you taste yourself. You lick them and make him smiles arrogantly when you put your hand on his crotch, squeezing it tightly.

“Good girl.” He whispers once you’re done cleaning his fingers from your juice.

You stand up and grab his belt, undoing it while you kiss his jawline. He tilts his head, allowing you the access to his neck where you softly suck his skin, leaving red marks that will probably betray you both tomorrow, but none of you seem to bother with that. You push him over the edge of the bed, making him sit down while you take off his shorts and boxers. He leans back on his hands, staring at you while you get down on your knees to take his shaft in your hand and start to move up and down. He licks his bottom lips and let out a small moan escape when you start to slide your tongue along its length.

“So hard for me, Maybank.” You tease him before wrapping your mouth around the tip of his cock.

One of his hands find his way in your hair, grabbing them to make you take him deeper. You bobble your head over his body and apply more pressure with your hand at the base of his length. JJ’s head fall back when you loosen up your throat and take him all in. He groans, pushing your head with his hand, making you choke slightly on him. He let you pull out and take a breath of air.

“Time for dinner now.” He whispers, grabbing you under your thighs to slam you against the bed for the second time.

He grabs a condom from his pants pocket, but you stop him before he unpacks it.

“I’m on the pill.” You smile, taking the little golden pack and throwing it at the end of the bed.

You grab him lightly by his necklace and kiss him, feeling the little smirk on his lips. JJ opens your legs and start to rub his cock against your clit and over your wet entrance. He pushes into you, making you bite his bottom lip to hold back a moan. He grunts against your lips as he slides back and forth in you, making you moan harder. He places one of his hands on your mouth and wraps the other around your throat. He slightly chokes you, keeping his eyes lock in yours while he starts to pump faster inside you.

“Oh fuck, baby. I’m close.” He groans, unwrapping his hand from your throat to let your breath.

His thumb starts to rub your clit, increasing the tension in your body. Your nails scratch his back, making him grunts. You hit your climax, moaning and biting his hand that is still on your mouth. He trusts his cock deeply inside you a few more times before he cums all over your stomach. JJ withdraws and drops onto the bed next to you.

“So? Do you regret?” He asks you, still breathing heavily.

“It was definitely the best fuck of my life.” You say, turning your face to the side to meet his blue eyes. “We should do it again sometime.”

“I’ve no objection to that.” He smirks before gently kissing your lips. “Now, time to make the dishes.” He adds with a little laugh, grabbing his shirt to clean up his seeds on your bare stomach.

milamaybank’s masterlist

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baeklination · 3 years

Text

🎃 Being

Date: 211001

Warnings: it starts smutty (not explicit wording) so eyes closed if you're too young!, if you're a terrible scaredy-cat (particularly of the dark) you might want to skip this.

Characters: Baekhyun, Reader

WC: 1,2k

Masterlist

¤¤

The pillows your hands crush, your head buries in; the wrinkled sheets and plush covers; the bluish light covering everything, it's all yours. You're in your own bed - it's a lucid dream. Aware enough to enjoy, but away enough to just let it happen.

The pulsing against your ass, the image of his crisp shirt hanging open at your sides, his dewy, blonde hair dangling to-and-fro, the creaking of the bed posts and his wet breathing - it's all in a delicious delirium.

"I've … been waiting to have you…", he whispers, ripping his shirt off, laying down.

His weight feels good on your back, his hungry grinding and touching are sensual euphoria. Kissing you behind the ear, a scent travels to your nostrils. Difficult to put your finger on, but off, somehow. Seeming to be released by his continuous rubbing against you, a smell - stench - overcomes the room. It's putrid. Mushed oranges green with mildew, a soiled diaper, puss from an infected wound. The atmosphere grows dark and heavy; you squirm to get away, rocking back and forth but unable to speak. You have to wake up. Have to. Screaming internally you, thankfully, feel the electric buzzing over your skin - you're going up.

"No, wait for me", he begs, acidic saliva running down your neck.

Pong…

Your skin settling down, you look out over the bedroom - you're awake. With a crushing feeling around your heart you take a few breaths "you're okay, you're okay…".

"Ugh…"

You pinch your nose and snort, trying to get the remnants of the stench out, but failing, you start to get up. Pushing your foot over the edge of the bed something...

An uneasy feeling in your gut mixes with a reasonable one in your head "just look so you can feel ridiculous". Hanging your head down you peer into the darkness...nothing. You sigh, but look some more. Two feet in, like yellow beads, eyes appear, looking straight at you. Screaming at the top of your lungs you throw yourself into the headboard, seeing a dark, not entirely solid figure dash out of the bedroom. Jumping out of bed, leg getting tangled in your covers, you crash violently into the radiator, ribs first. Doubling over, cradling yourself from the jarring pain you find the chord to your lamp, but in your panic pull it down on the floor, the bulb shattering at your feet. Keeping your eyes fixed on the doorway you feel for your phone on the nightstand and, locating it, stand up to push the window open just as you hear your door get pummeled. Crying out from the pain, you squeeze your body through the gap and topple onto the fire escape, the harsh metal digging into your body, a chilling breeze blowing through the bars. Peering over the edge into your room, dialing emergency services, the hallway lights up and a figure rushes to the doorway calling your name; Kee, your neighbour, with panic in his face and a hammer at the ready in his hand.

•

"And you say the door was locked when you tried. You're sure?", the officer asks Kee.

"Yeah, I had to bust it open. No way it was unlocked."

After refusing to set foot in the apartment Kee had gone out to the fire escape, helping you down on your wobbly legs and taken you to his place. Not at ease with the proximity to which he lived to you - the paradox being that he managed to help because of it - he carefully looked in every nook and cranny, turning on the lights in every room before you moved away from the wall to sit down.

Relaying what had happened, not leaving any part out, but also not a hundred percent positive things had really been the way you had perceived them; were the eyes really yellow? They were, but...ye-llow..? Did the dream have anything to do with it? You'd been fully clothed when you woke up, so there was no doubt about it being a dream, but the stench…

Luckily he believed you and wondered about it the same as you. Making a huge cup of chamomile tea, looking over your ribs (his unused nurses degree coming to use) and deciding they probably weren't fractured, you waited for the police to arrive.

"M-hm… Miss, did you have anything to drink before going to bed?"

Flabbergasted, yet knowing this was coming - "hey mister policeman, a shadowy figure with yellow eyes was hiding under my bed" - you wouldn't believe it either, you stick to your guns.

"No, nothing. And no drugs, prescription or otherwise."

"Nothing over-the-counter..?"

"Are you kidding me..!", Kee bursts out. "Look at her! I found her on the goddamn fire escape in her pyjamas! Broke down the door 'cus of her screaming..!"

"Sir, you need to calm down…"

"Ca-! You're acting like she-"

"Kee!", you hiss, pulling at his t-shirt.

"- had a bad dream and called the cops!"

"If you don't calm down, sir...", the officer warns him again, casually putting his hand on his cuffs. "I'll have to remove you. Now, is that what you want?"

Incensed, Kee's eyes grow large and his jaw flies open, but realising you'll be left alone if he says another word he shuts his eyes, composing himself.

"Now… Have you been getting any strange phone calls, messages from anyone..?"

"No", you shake your head.

"Notice anything missing from your home? Things out of place..?"

"Ehm...no… I don't think so. I don't have a stalker, if that's what you mean."

"Just checking all the boxes, Miss. Sometimes we don't notice until we think about it closer."

•

"I don't think they'll find him…", you sigh, propping up your pillows, adrenaline giving way to drowsiness.

"Him..?"

"It. The thing, being. What ever it was."

"If it got scared off by you, then maybe he- it is gone for good..? I don't think you have to worry-"

"No, don't!", you protest, when he flicks the living room light off.

"Sorry, force of habit. But you can stay here as long as you want. I'll grab some stuff from your place tomorrow..?"

You nod, check under the bed for the gazillionth time, then get into it.

"Do you want me to stay up until you fall asleep?"

"Yes. But no. But face my way."

Searching the net for every and any story similar to yours might not be the best way to fall asleep, but you reckon you won't anyway so you stare at your phone for two hours. Eventually Kee's soft puffing works lullaby magic on you. Not enough to knock you out, but enough to make you put away your phone and pull the covers to your chin, looking at the little bits and bobs he's decorated his bedroom with. Looking at his poster you smile; it was given to him as a joke, minding his sometimes quick temper: a bright, computer animated sun with the words "remember, the sun is always shini-'' the flat goes pitch black.

"Kee!", you hiss, accidentally hitting him in the face going for his arm.

"Aoh, wha- shit", he whispers, sitting up.

Absolute darkness.

You grab onto his t-shirt, your chest a vacuum, tears burning behind your eyes...

#baekhyun scenario #baekhyun #halloween special

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

Note

(3)—and so they’ve never really had convo’s unless they get invited to hang out w/ their mutual friends. so maybe it makes them think if they’ve done anything wrong to her, but in reality it’s just her way of coping when she starts to genuinely like someone? so if she avoids them, she thinks it will get rid of her crush on them? it’s your choice if it’s the reader or the guy that’ll confess! ☺️ anyways, god bless and i hope you have a good day xx

on avoiding your crush with oikawa, kuroo, akaashi, and terushima

a/n: ngl this one is kinda long that’s why it took a while to post, but i like spoiling you guys so enjoy :))

— o. tooru

you were never really the type to confess your feelings to someone as not doing anything about your feelings and forgetting them is much easier that having to suffer the consequences of rejection or heartbreak

this was especially prevalent when the boy you’re literally head over heels for is in fact none other than the golden boy of seijoh himself, oikawa tooru

homeboy has a literal entourage of girls following around all the time

they literally give him sweet little gifts like baked goods and cute little knickknacks, not to mention a lot of them are super pretty and attractive

like how the hell could you compete with that many girls ??

not to mention you had always come to believe that oikawa was into more outspoken and lively girls granted his own personality

that dynamic of you being the quiet one in the relationship with him being the loud one was something you thought oikawa wasn’t looking for,, it honestly made you want to give up your feelings for him completely

mind you, you literally CANNOT escape this man

not only was he talked about a lot among your classmates, but by some form of sheer luck and faith, you two were both in the same friend group

you honestly had no idea how the hell you were part of it in the first place, but during first year you just magically became part of this friend group composed of oikawa, iwaizumi, mattsukawa, and a couple of other girls from your year

anyone that attended seijoh with half a brain cell would know that the friend group you were in was definitely the popular crowd

you couldn’t help but feel some sort of impostor syndrome as you weren’t exactly the most popular, if anything people only knew you as the quiet girl in oikawa’s group

that definitely didn’t mean that anyone in your circle was rude to you in any way

everyone in your friend group would literally die for you as you’re genuinely the sweetest person they have ever met

like if they hear anyone talk shit about you, they’re immediately #protecty/n2020 !!

yet despite being in the same circle of friends, you and oikawa rarely talk. hell, you guys are barely considered acquaintances let alone friends

you liked to stick around the girls of the group more as the only guy you actually talked to in your circle was iwaizumi and that was it

this obviously led oikawa to believe that he had done something to you that made you avoid him at all costs

the thing is, he always had this problem with since the start of your first year together, but recently it had been affecting him more than he had thought considering he would’ve been used to it by now in his third year

perhaps it was the way he would watch you giggle at something matsukawa whispered in your ear, or the fact that you literally had a secret handshake with iwaizumi, or often shared some of the snacks you bought with your girl friend but did absolutely nothing with him

it irked him to his very core that the one he had always was the most found with in his group of friends was someone who avoided him at all costs

he would spend his breaks during practice to exasperatedly vent to iwaizumi about how adorable your laugh was and how envious he was that he couldn’t make you laugh

or how whenever you would sometimes greet iwaizumi with a hug but completely pass by him would literally make him chase after you

“Y/N!! where’s my hug??”

yeah he’s that type of guy, but in a good way tho lmao

and in the midst of oikawa telling his best friend how much he just wanted to be your friend made iwaizumi roll his eyes

“the way you talk about (y/n) makes it sound like you like her,” he would mutter nonchalantly as he sipped at his water bottle

iwaizumi would flicker his gaze towards oikawa to see the capillaries in his cheeks literally burst, tinting his cheeks all pink

he had to stop himself from snorting out a laugh as iwa may or may not have known about your crush on seijoh’s golden boy himself

the way he had find out was pretty simple considering you and iwa were walking side by side near the back of the group as they were walking towards somewhere to eat

the girls and mattsun in the front were too busy teasing oikawa, that they weren’t really paying attention to you and iwa lagging behind

“you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but why do you avoid him?” iwaizumi asked gently. as he was the only guy in the group that you trusted, he didn’t want to ruin it by forcing an answer out of you knowing how you were

immediately, your cheeks heated you lowered your voice down into a mere whisper. “promise me you won’t tell anyone,” iwa nodded before bringing his ear down so you could whisper in his ear. “i really like oikawa and...” you paused, almost hesitating and you don’t exactly know why

but fortunately, iwa was super patient with you like he’s literally a homie

“and?”

“i’ve liked him since our first year and i figured avoiding him would make me lose feelings. but the thing is, it’s been three years and i still like that idiot.” you sighed, and yet for once you didn’t expect the worst as you knew you could trust iwa with valuable information like that

he nods, pinching his pointer finger and his thumb together before pretending to lock his lips. “you’re secret safe with me, (y/n).”

so here iwa was now, attempting to provoke something in oikawa

it was then the coach had blown the whistle, signalling that break time was over and they had to get back on court for their last practice game

oikawa cleared his throat as they stood up, flickering a look towards his best friend as he suddenly remembered the times he felt envious of him. “what if i do like (y/n)?”

iwaizumi feigned a smirk on his lips, “then confess to her before i do.” (he wasn’t actually going to lol)

and lemme tell you sumn, even though this was just a practice game, oikawa played as if his life depended on it

as if having you depended on it

and per usual, oikawa’s team won in the end and every day after volleyball practice, you and the rest of the girls would walk in and wait for the rest of the boys to get ready so you can all get food

there you were in all your glory, you hair blew gently behind you due to the air conditioned gym. you were waiting patiently and you definitely didn’t mind waiting as the boys had to clean up after themselves, but you swore you had never seen oikawa clean up faster in his life

once the vb team finished and your circle of friends were on your way out of school, oikawa purposely lagged behind the group as he stood next to you to your surprise

he was usually leading the group, but for once he was at the end with you. giving you a smile, to which you quickly avoided, oikawa quickly rested his hand around you

“hey (y/n)?” he says as you try your best to hide the sudden onset of heat rising to your cheeks

“hm?” you hummed, attempting to not give much of a reaction. maybe then he would leave you alone and your feelings for him would finally disappear

oikawa brought his lips to your ear, “do you know how long i’ve liked you?”

and immediately you froze, forcing oikawa to stop walking too and making the gap between you and the rest of the group to widen. you shake the thought out of your head, he’s probably playing around, you thought before continuing down the road

“shut it, oikawa.” you pulled yourself out of his grasp only to be pulled back in by him

“i’m serious, (y/n). i’ve liked you for a while now and it’s been absolute torture seeing you be closer to iwa and mattsun rather than me.” muttered oikawa, almost feeling embarrassed himself despite experiencing many confessions himself

perhaps maybe this time he was the one confessing and not the other way around

— k. tetsurou

where do i even start with this man

there was something always so compelling about kuroo, that you really couldn’t resist his good looks and to how kind he treated you

granted, you were the manager for nekoma’s volleyball team so maybe it was a given, but there is no denying the fact that you were irrevocably head over heels for the captain

your feelings for him initially formed in the middle of your first year at nekoma and the volleyball team’s manager was already in their last yer and preparing to leave so they needed a replacement

at first you said no, but kuroo, who was also a first year and in the same class as you literally begged for you to join. he mentioned how fun it would be, especially with him around

from the way your heart bounded in place within the confines of your ribs, to the way your cheeks often heated up whenever you were around him, even kenma (who you didn’t even meet until your second year) had already seen through you

fortunately, kenma was always the kind to mind his own business and stay in his lane. in fact, he had actually been a big help in you vying for kuroo’s attention but you both eventually got tired of how daft the captain had been

instead, you aimed to just avoid kuroo as much as possible for the time being, perhaps your feelings for him from the past three years would finally disappear and you can finally move on with your life

but it was safe to say you were not anticipating how hard it was going to be

not only were the nekoma’s volleyball manager and had to interact with the captain, you and kenma were also close friends. and when it comes to being friends with kenma, kuroo is more or less with him as well which made it inevitably more difficult

momma didn’t raise no bitch tho, so you powered through and avoided kuroo as best as you could and only talked to him if it involved school or volleyball

this was technically the worst form of silent treatment where it wasn’t full on ignoring (which honestly isn’t that bad cause you tended to forget about the person anyway) but this kind of silent treatment where you are constantly reminded of it because you had to talk once in a while was literally killing kuroo slowly

he was always a social person and usually respected and didn’t mind those who wanted to distance themselves from him, but once it came from you, it was literally game over

he believed that you were the second closest person to him besides kenma (and excluding the rest of the vb team) and the fact that you don’t even like making eye contact with him makes him feel dejected

especially when your actions really came abrupt as one day you were laughing and hanging out with him to giving him the cold shoulder and only talking to kenma

kuroo genuinely thought he had done something to you

eventually, after volleyball practice where everyone had to clean up, he would deliberately slowed down and waited until you and him were the last ones in the gymnasium

“(y/n),” he called out to you as you finished putting all the stray balls into it’s respective basket

your eyes widened into saucers as your pulse suddenly increased, turning around to face the tall captain, you had to force a mellow look upon your face

he held the net in his hands, “could you help me with this?”

you didn’t even mutter a response as you only nodded. you hated how you had to act so cold to him, but it was what you had to do in order to leave your feelings for him behind

your train of thought went like this: it was only a couple months before your third year ended anyway, might as well forget about him

walking past the captain, you bent down and grabbed the other end of the net and you two began folding it in quietly

kuroo was going to spark a conversation, but he surprisingly found that silence blanketing you two to be comforting. he couldn’t take his eyes off of you each and every time the net had gotten shorter and shorter

eventually you two met in the middle, your eyes were directly looking at his broad chest you had hesitantly flickering a glance up at him

“stop ignoring me,” kuroo said in almost a harsh whisper

your cheeks flared red as you looked away shyly, pulling the net along with you and out of his hands. “i’m not ignoring you.”

“yes, you are.” he presses, “we were fine before, but now you don’t even talk to me anymore... did i do something wrong?”

you couldn’t help but notice that slight hurt in his serious tone that made you look back to him. your eyebrows furrow as suddenly your throat felt incredibly dry

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you answered while kuroo approached you closer

“then what is it?” he scoffs dejectedly, placing his hands on his hips as he searched your expression for any answer. it was then his eyes widened larger than ever as he felt the rhythm of his heart quicken, “holy shit,” he sighed, “did you find out?”

confusion melted over your visage as you looked up at him, “find out what?”

“lev and yaku probably told you didn’t they?”

you were still not following, “told me what?”

“that i like you!” he exclaimed, his sudden confess echoing throughout the empty gym as everything went silent. the only sound surrounding you two was the air conditioning circulating around you two as you were completely frozen in place

you mouth ran slightly agape and undeniably speechless at the mere fact that that just happened. you certainly weren’t expecting it as your cheeks heated up for the umpteenth time, you swore they were never going to be given a break anytime soon.

meanwhile, whilst you were in a state of utter shock, the worst was spiraling inside kuroo psyche. with how long the silence fell upon you two, he couldn’t help but to feel that you were just thinking of a nice way to reject him

“look (y/n), i--” he was immediately cut off by you throwing a light punch to his chest, your eyes had fallen to the floor to hide the burning red sensation tinting your ears and cheeks

“i like you too, idiot.” you mutter, almost feeling a shiver down your spine as kuroo held your hand that was on his chest. “why do you think i was avoiding you for so long?”

— a. keiji

as i’ve mentioned in previous headcanons, homeboy is BLUNT

and he would definitely call you out on your shit with avoiding him and all

despite being on the quieter side, he does like conversing with other people with his amiable witticisms and classical one-liners whenever he would pop into a conversation

usually people (specifically ones he’s not entirely close to) would get annoyed by this, which is why he’s quiet in the first place. but when he first met you, you played off of his words. for once, akaashi was surprised by this and was immediately compelled by you

meanwhile, you were good friends with bokuto, which was the only reason why you had gotten to know the setter in the first place. you were well aware that he was bo’s best friend and was genuinely surprised how nuanced the pair was

eventually, you had come to take a liking for the boy as he was always quiet and a bit mysterious, yet whenever he talked it would always make you laugh or melt a smirk on your face

you were a year older and in the same year as bokuto, so to you it always seemed a bit weird to date someone younger than you. you always pined yourself as someone who would rather date older guys or someone around your age, but this was definitely an exception

however, you definitely didn’t like the idea of perhaps confessing to akaashi and then leaving in a couple months for college. it honestly seemed like a waste of time to get into a relationship especially in this time of the school year, so had decided to do something you had always done:

avoid your feelings until they disappear into oblivion

it would make things easier on both of your parts anyway, you were in your last year of high school and on your way to college while akaashi had the possibility of taking over the captain spot next year and had to focus on his final year

besides, despite knowing him for a good two years, you could never tell whether or not he liked you (even as a friend)

so here you were, acting suspiciously cold and avoiding your underclassman who, for once, is vying for you attention and you aren’t even noticing

whenever you were around bokuto, akaashi would purposely try to be in the conversation more and maybe even try to stand closer to you than before. he would often ignore the slight aching jealousy in his gut whenever you and bokuto messed around during lunch

honestly, homie doesn’t even know he has feelings for you and just simply thinks he did something wrong that you don’t want to interact with him anymore

he eventually went to bokuto about it, “does (y/n) hate me?”

and perhaps his best friend had to feign laughing right in akaashi’s face at this, “why would you think that?”

“well, she’s avoiding me and i don’t like it.”

one of bokuto’s eyebrows lift as he gave akaashi a look, “why don’t you ask her yourself?”

the setter sighs, “but she’s an upper--”

“since when were you scared of third years?” the alabaster haired boy chuckles, “c’mon akaashi, you’re a big boy now. deal with that yourself.”

the second year grumbles as he pushing himself off his chair, “fine.” he mutters as he made his way out of bo’s classroom and towards the courtyard where you sometimes hung out during lunch

he immediately spotted your figure talking among other third year girls, eyes never leaving you as he made his way over.

“excuse me, can i borrow (y/n) for a minute?” he asked, his height looming over you and the others as they gave you a look.

a sigh left your lips as you excused yourself and went with akaashi. you didn’t bother speaking to him as you simply just followed him into an empty hallway

“do you know how rude it is to ignore people, senpai?” he starts, provocation lacing his words as you gave him a look. he was well aware of the fact that you lowkey didn’t like being called senpai, so he was definitely saying just to get you riled up

“eh,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant as possible. “it depends on who and why you’re ignoring them.”

“why are you ignoring me then?” he interrogates you.

and you weren’t entirely sure if it was his height towering over you or the way his words were leaving your mouth that made your heart skip a beat, you had almost forgot his was your kouhai

“because.”

akaashi peered his eyes at how sus you were being, “because??”

you sigh, ripping your eyes away from him as you thought to yourself briefly. you definitely couldn’t continue looking at him as each beat that passes you felt the rhythm of your heart quicken. was he really affecting you this much?

you considered this: you were in the your last and final year with the possibility of not seeing akaashi ever again once you graduate. despite it being a bit bittersweet, telling him your feelings would possibly lift some weight off your shoulders and you didn’t have to worry about it anymore

looking back at him, you swallowed your pride. fuck it

“because i have feelings for you and i’m trying to forget them,” you confess quickly as your arms braided over each other, watching as akaashi’s expression morphed into surprise and almost a mere confusion

“y-you like me?” he asks for a confirmation to which to nod and watch his cheeks and his ears burst into shades of pink and red blush

perhaps you found yourself blushing too with how adorable he was as he cleared his throat to regain his composure

“why were you trying to forget them?” there was a hint of hesitance in his voice as he asked, almost to afraid to know the reason.

bittersweetness suddenly coursed through your veins as you sigh, “i’m going to graduate in a few months, akaashi... i’m going to go away for college while you’re still going to be here and i’m not sure if we’re actually going to see each other again.”

“we can if we tried,” he mutters quietly as there was still an inch of hope within him. “we can still make it work.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

— t. yuuji

you had now idea how the hell you had come to like someone like terushima yuuji

not only was he incredibly loud and a bit childish in nature, he was an absolute fuckboy

it should’ve been a big enough turn off, but perhaps you somehow liked how he would remember the little things whenever he would annoy the shit out of you everyday

like how you always got melon buns for lunch, he would always buy you one before you even had the chance. or how he knew your favorite subject was math, despite you never mentioning to him. or how he knew that there was always a kick in your step whenever you were in a good mood.

despite his persistent nature is more likely to come off as arrogant and annoying, sometimes his assertiveness comes to be beneficial at times

like that one time you were walking home during the night and a pair of creepy older dudes kept asking you for your number, terushima (who was also going home after volleyball practice) had come to help you

his persistence in making sure the guys left you alone had worked and perhaps the way he wrapped his arm around you protectively had your heart pumping faster than you anticipated

that was when you had finally come to the conclusion that you had feelings for some fuckboy name terushima yuuji, who literally annoyed you to your core

knowing damn well that terushima wasn’t going anywhere, you figured that if you avoided him enough, that your feelings for him would eventually go away

you supposed it was because of his usual nature, constantly flirting around with other girls before eventually getting bored of them. it then rang into your head, wondering when terushima would eventually get bored of you

perhaps there was an aching his your heart when you thought about it, but in your brain you wished for him to forget about you. if anything, it would’ve made loosing your feelings for the blond boy to go away easier

your avoidance and lack of interaction with terushima definitely did not unnoticed by him. if anything, it made him want to talk to you more

he would literally shower you with melon buns and snacks during lunch, to which you would politely decline and walk away from him. he would greet you everyday in the mornings, to which you would simply flicker him a look before brushing past him

for once, terushima felt challenged when it came it you and only fueled his yearning to get back to that stage of comfortably throwing his arm over your shoulder

it even got to the point of you ignoring him enough that you started talking to another guy in your class, with how comfortable you are with the new dude as you were playfully handsy and giggled loudly at his jokes

perhaps he felt a bit jealous that someone else was making you act like. terushima wanted that to be him

it was like a wave of emotions had tumbled over him as he saw you and the boy walking with a group of others in front of him. he swiftly caught up and pulled you away from the group fast enough that they didn’t notice

“terushima?” you said breathlessly

“i like you, (y/n).” he went straight to the point. there was no reason to beat around the bush any longer as you and him were finally alone together and he didn’t know whether he would have this chance ever again, “i like you a lot, so stop ignoring me.”

“y-you like me?” you repeat, you eyebrows suddenly furrowing. “is this a joke?”

homie couldn’t help but notice the slight worry lacing your voice, as if he wasn’t serious and just playing you. he was well away of his reputation and certainly did not want it to get in the way of you and him.

“i’m serious.” he reassures, “there’s a reason why you’re the only one i haven’t gotten bored of.”

681 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 3 years

Text

Starfaller

Agender tiefling X gn reader. 7,005 words.

You’ve fallen into a strange world. Things are unfamiliar and strange, but at least you’ve got a cute doctor to look out for you.

“Come now, sugar. Open your eyes.” Someone was shaking your shoulder gently, but insistently. You didn’t want to wake up. Pain radiated along your back, growing sharper the closer to wakefulness you got. “Up you get. There you go.”

Your eyelids flickered open. Bright sunlight fille d the room with a blinding yellow-white glow. You were lying on some kind of cushy couch, across the room from a set of large, glass doors. The room looked like some sort of old-fashioned apothecary, with pale wooden walls and a floor. Dried and partially-dried herbs hung from the lofted ceiling. Cabinets with glass doors lined the room, full of plants and vials of liquid and metal devices made for measuring. The smell was sharp and made your nose itch faintly.

“Here. Drink this.” Someone cupped your head in their hand. A cup pressed against your lips. It was cool, and the water that flowed into your desiccated mouth tasted pure and crystalline. You gulped it furiously. Oh, god, it was so good, like someone was pouring a sparkling stream of energy down your throat.

“That’s it. Good.” The cup moved away from your lips. You made a quiet noise of protest. “I know, but you have to go slowly. You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t.”

You turned your head, wincing as the motion pulled your muscles. Every breath hurt, like you’d pulled every muscle in your chest and back. The person who had been allowing you to drink was sitting next to you, hand still resting on the back of your head. “There you are. You’re looking a bit better now, aren’t you?”

They smiled, revealing needle-sharp fangs. You felt something in your stomach drop and twist. This person wasn’t a human. They were pale, with nearly pure white skin and white-blonde hair. Their eyes were pale as well, with pink markings along their cheekbones and forehead. Their hair was tied back into a short braid, carefully woven around their enormous, curving horns. They wore a long, pale robe, a long, thin tail with a thick tuft of white-blond hair at the tip. Their feet ended in short, white fur and white, cloven hooves. Their eyes gleamed oddly in the sunlight, their pupils several shades too pale.

“Oh, dear. Lie back down, you look awfully wan. Might have sat up a bit too quick.” Their voice was soft and accented in a way you couldn’t quite identify. Maybe vaguely southern? “Here. Drink.”

Another cup was pressed to your lips. This one was warm and tasted savory. It made your stomach growl. You were starving, lightheaded with hunger. Your fingers fumbled to cling to the bowl, trying to gulp it faster. “Easy there. Slowly.” The bowl was tugged from your mouth once more. “Though it’s good you have an appetite.”

Your caretaker allowed you to drink slowly, pressing the cup to your lips and taking it back away in intervals. Eventually, you managed to drink all of it, your tongue flicking out to get the last few drops from the bottom. “There you are.” Your caretaker ran a hand over your forehead. “All right. It’s good that you got some food in you.”

You sagged back onto the couch. The longer you remained awake, the worse the pain in your torso was getting. Every breath was a struggle. “You must be in a lot of pain,” your caretaker murmured. “Hold on. I’ll get you something for that.” They moved away to one of their cabinets and returned with a spoon and a tiny vial of a green liquid. “This should help with the pain. It’s quite potent, though, and it won’t taste nice.” They tipped a few drops onto the spoon. “Here.”

A flicker of concern moved through you, but it seemed silly not to trust them. They seemed to be taking care of you, at least. The spoon touched your lips and you sipped the droplets from it.

The effect was immediate. For a moment, your mouth tasted sharp and nasty, then a wave of numbness spread outward from everywhere the drops had touched. You sagged back onto the couch. Your eyelids drooped. “Get some sleep. It’ll help you recover,” your caretaker said. “I’ll be back to check on you later.” The world fuzzed and faded as they stood and started to walk away.

You woke again some time later, this time under your own volition. The sun had set, making the room mercifully dim. You were still in pain, but it seemed distant, less urgent.

Grimacing, you rolled onto your side. The caretaker was nowhere you could see. Across the room, you could see the beautiful night sky through the window.

It was more breathtaking than any night sky you had ever seen before. There were thousands of stars, more than you could ever remember seeing. There were even variations of color across the sky, from dark blue to purple to even a few splashes of green. Sitting high at the apex of the sky were two gently glowing moons.

Your breath caught in your throat. The caretaker had obviously not been human, which had been strange, but this. This confirmed it. You weren’t just in some strange place with nonhuman creatures. You were in some entirely different world.

From behind your head, a door creaked. You twisted around, ignoring the sharp pain in your chest. “Ah, you’re awake again. Good.” Your caretaker placed a basket on the table and swept off their coat. “How are you feeling?”

Your voice cracked as you tried to speak. “Wh- Where…”

“Here. Wet your throat. You’ve been out for a while.” They swept over to you, holding a cup. “There you are. Can you hold it yourself? Good.”

Again, the water was cool and clear and you drank it desperately. “Where,” you sputtered as soon as your mouth was no longer achingly dry, “Where am I?”

“Ah.” The caretaker took the bowl back form your hands. “I take it you realized you’re not home anymore.”

“There’s two moons,” you said. “And… and you’re not… human.”

“Mn. No. I’m not. Your Fall must have been particularly bad if you’ve never even met a tiefling before.” They gave you a sympathetic look. “You’re fortunate you weren’t more injured, really. Only a few cracked ribs and some bad bruising.”

“Then where am I?” you insisted. The caretaker gave you a soft, soothing smile.

“In specific, you’re in my house, the healer’s residence of Torthall. It’s a small town in the kingdom of Ristoranth- though I suppose we haven’t been a proper kingdom in a couple of decades.” They paused. “But that’s not terribly helpful to you, is it? Hm. Well, have you ever heard of the theory of multiple worlds?”

You mulled that over. “Like multiple universes?”

“Mm, yes. Roughly. There are many different worlds, and a lot of them overlap. Some of them overlap rarely, and some of them have many overlaps. We call the ones with many overlaps hub worlds.” They made a vague gesture at the world around you. “This world is a hub world. When two worlds overlap, things have a tendency to slip through the gaps. Sometimes they’re small, but sometimes, people slip through.”

You took a deep, slow breath. “I slipped through the gap between your world and my world?”

“Yes. That’s pretty much the summation of it. There’s some more metaphysical aspects to it, some complicated things that I won’t even pretend to understand, but the basic gist of it all is that people often slip through the cracks between the universes and land here. Usually there are a few dozen Starfallers every year. We call them Starfallers,” they clarified. “Usually they fall from the sky, out of a flash of light. The scars last for a few days, like large stars.” They tilted their head back toward the windows. “We could probably still see it, if we went outside.”

You curled your fingers around the blankets. “How do I get home?”

The caretaker’s face went still. “Ah.” The noise was soft and hesitant and confirmed all of your worst fears. “It’s… I don’t want to say that it’s impossible. There have been a few Starfallers who have gotten back. But… Hm. It’s a bit like we’re at the bottom of a funnel. It’s quite easy to get down here, but it’s difficult to get back up. And yours… well, if your world has no active magic component, then it’s likely quite far away from ours. It’s not impossible, but it’s not likely for you to get back either.”

You swallowed hard. The back of your eyes stung. “So, I’m stuck here.”

They folded their hands in their lap. “I’m afraid it’s the most likely scenario.”

You were trying to keep your face still, but your lips were twitching insistently downward. Your breath kept catching and stuttering in your chest. “Oh, dear. Here, it’s all right.” The caretaker fished something out of their pocket and passed it to you. You buried your face in the handkerchief as the tears started falling. “There, there. I know.”

You snuffled, mopping at your eyes. “I’m s-sorry, I hate crying in front of other people.”

“Oh, hush. Don’t apologize.” They smiled softly. “I could turn my back, if you’d like.” You snorted. “But seriously, I’m a healer. I’ve seen many people cry. It won’t make me think any less of you.”

They stroked along your back as you cried until, finally, you had exhausted your water supply. You slumped back onto your pillows. “Feeling any better?” the caretaker asked. They brushed a hand along the top of your head, then swiped away a few of your tears with a thumb.

“I don’t know.” There was still a knot of emotion in your chest, but it had loosened ever so slightly. “I think so.”

“You should probably get some more sleep,” the caretaker said. They stood up. “We can keep talking in the morning.” They yawned. “Both of us need some sleep, really. I’ll see you in the morning.” They gave you an affectionate pat on the head before striding out of the room.

You had expected to have trouble falling asleep, but crying had apparently taken it out of you. Before you knew it, you were blinking your eyes open in bright sunlight. The room was full of the sound and smell of cooking eggs. The caretaker was wearing a purple and gold robe, bent over a fire. “Good morning,” they said, smiling over their shoulder at you.

“Morning,” you croaked. You pushed yourself upright. Your muscles were still sore, but you felt better than you had the night before. “Do I get breakfast?”

The caretaker laughed. “I’m certainly not going to starve you. Though you should eat slowly. Starfalling can do some strange things to your insides.”

You gratefully accepted your plate of eggs. They looked and tasted pretty much exactly like chicken eggs, which was a relief. The caretaker sat down next to you, chewing idly on their own breakfast.

“I don’t know your name,” you said hesitantly after a few moments of eating in silence.

“Silaris. You can just call me Sil.” They smiled. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Better. I think.”

“Mm. That’s good. You’ll probably be able to get out of bed today, though you should take it easy. I don’t want you to do anything that will exacerbate your injuries.”

You took a careful bite of eggs off your fork and chewed it slowly. “What, uh. What happens now? I mean… what happens now that I’m here?”

Sil lowered their fork. “I’ll get you in contact with the Starfaller agency. They’ve got a small fund they set aside for Starfaller relief, so you’ll get an allowance for a few months until you’re adjusted. They’ll probably also interview you about what you did in your world, to see what relevant skills you have.” They patted your hand. “Don’t look so worried, sugar. We’re going to make sure you’re safe here.”

“I don’t know if I have any relevant skills I can use here,” you said. “I worked in tech support back in my world. Unless you need someone who’s good with computers here…” Your breaths were starting to come more shallowly. The edges of panic were creeping into your voice.

“Hey. Hey.” Sil took hold of your hands. “Breathe. You’re all right.” They smiled soothingly at you. “If you don’t have any skills that will work for this world, we can get you apprenticed to someone. I’m sure there’s someone who can take you on.”

You took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“It’s certainly no trouble. Right now, you shouldn’t worry too much. Just try to focus on getting better.” Sil stood. “Your appetite seems healthy, at least.” Your fork scraped against your plate and you looked down. It was empty. You’d been absently shoveling food into your mouth the entire time they’d been speaking. “Ah, don’t look embarrassed. It’s good. If you weren’t hungry, I’d be worried.” They stood, taking your plate. “Give me a moment.”

They left the room. You took their absence as an opportunity to fully assess yourself. Aside from being painfully stiff and needing to breathe shallowly, you felt all right. Your chest was bound in bandages. Bracing yourself against the couch, you pushed yourself to your feet.

Your legs were shaky, but willing to support your weight. You took a few cautious steps. Your side blazed in protest. Every breath made your damaged ribs throb. Grinding your teeth, you took a few cautious steps across the room.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to be walking around so quickly.” You looked over. Sil was standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “You must be in better shape than I thought. How do you feel?”

“It hurts,” you admitted. “And-” The wooziness you’d been holding at bay by sheer force of will finally pushed its way into your head. You wobbled on your feet.

“Oh, dear. All right.” Sil half caught you, half propped you back up. “Sit back down.” They pushed you back over to the couch, easing you down. “It’s good that you can be up and about. Any nausea, intensifying pain?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Here, take some of this.” Sil held out a tiny, thimble-sized glass with a pale, cloudy liquid in it. “It’s an infusion of a few herbs, often referred to as ‘bone-knit’. It’ll help with the pain.”

You tossed the liquid back and grimaced. It was bitter beyond belief. “Ugh!”

“Not pleasant, I know.” Sil took the bottle back from you. “I’m going to need to go out for a little bit, just to get some more supplies. Just rest while I’m gone, all right? I’ll be back soon.”

“Sure,” you said, leaning back onto the couch. Sil smiled, gave you an affectionate pat on the head, then turned and walked out of the room.

You heard the door open and shut. Your ribs prickled, not just aching, but also itching. It was constant, insistent, and it made it impossible to sleep. After several minutes of trying, you gave up.

Walking was still a little shaky, but you managed to complete a circuit of the room. Most items were fairly uninteresting, or at least not anything you found helpful. One of the cabinets had a series of medical instruments that looked only vaguely familiar, not that you had much experience with medical devices. Another cabinet contained strange herbs and stones, each of them labeled. A leather-bound journal sat on the bottom of the shelf. You picked it up, flicking through the pages. Drawings of leaves and stones and even a few pressed flowers sat on the pages.

On first inspection, you couldn’t read most of the writing and assumed it was in some strange language. After looking a little longer, though, you realized that the handwriting was simply so messy it looked like another language. With some squinting and puzzling, you could decode most of it. It was a handwritten journal, listing the locations, growing seasons, and medical properties of each plant.

When Sil returned home, you were still flipping through their notebook. “Sorry I’m late,” they said. “I got caught up in town. There was a toddler with a bit of a cold and his father was terribly worried. What are you reading?”

You closed the journal, a little embarrassed. “I was just looking through your journal. It’s interesting.”

“It’s not anything truly spectacular. Just my own notes on what sort of plants and stones have what sort of uses. I’m sure you could find a basic medical book that has the exact same information,” Sil said, but they looked faintly pleased. “Speaking of reading, I got you a few things.” They swung their bag off their shoulder and rummaged inside it. “Some books. Basic history, basic science, basic culture.”

You took the books from Sil and flipped through them. They had thick pages and were mostly illustrations. “These are books for children.”

“Well, yes,” Sil said, scratching at the back of their neck. “I’m afraid so. I’ve got a couple more advanced books for you, but I though you should start with those first. You’ll need to learn about our world, and children’s books do give the most basic knowledge.” You grimaced.

“I suppose.” You picked up the book titled The History of Ristoranth. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get these for me.”

“As I keep telling you, it’s really no trouble. Start reading. I’ll get us some lunch.” Sil swept out of the room and you picked up the book and started flipping through it.

It was amazing how quickly you settled into a routine. You spent much of your time trying to understand the world you were suddenly in. Despite some strange similarities, like the languages being identical, there were some massive differences in the basic laws of nature.

“I’m sorry, you can grow new rocks?” you asked. Over the past couple of weeks, you’d taken to confirming your most surprising discoveries with Sil. There had been an embarrassing few days where you’d assumed the kingdom had actually been named after the first Queen’s three pet birds, until Sil had explained that was a metaphor.

“They were her advisors. Or consorts. No one’s sure. But they always were referred to as her birds in fable, because they were each nicknamed after a sort of bird. Anyway, they may have had shape changing abilities, but they weren’t really her pet birds. Didn’t you think it was odd that she went to them for advice?”

Given some of the other things you read about, the idea of the Queen using real birds as her advisors didn’t seem that unusual. “There were mentions of her going to animals for advice before.”

“Those weren’t real animals. Those were spirits.” Sil made it sound like this should be patently obvious. You sighed.

“Anyway. You have… Farm quarries?”

“Specialists grow new gemstones all the time. I mean, you need a seed gemstone, and some quarries just produce metals or certain forms of clay and such, but yes. They do.” Sil looked at you questioningly. “How does your world get new materials?”

“We find them,” you said. “I mean, we can dig them up. And things change form. Eventually you can make coal or graphite or something into diamonds. But you can’t just take a gemstone and make it get bigger.”

“From what I know, it’s a little more complicated than that. It’s about agitating the crystalline structures using the harmonic resonance of magic and transitioning new materials into the same structure as-” Sil trailed off. “Er. This isn’t making any sense to you, is it?”

You shook your head. “And this references weather control?”

“Oh. High level mages manage the weather.” You rubbed your forehead. “How do you ensure that the weather is appropriate in your world?”

“We don’t! We just try to predict it and deal with it as best we can.”

Sil’s brows furrowed. “But crops rely on certain weather patterns. How do you ensure best yield if you don’t have weather management?”

“I just said, we don’t. If something like that happens… food prices go up, I guess, or we do without.”

Sil looked disturbed at the very concept. That was one of the other things you’d noticed. Their world seemed… gentler, in some ways. More forgiving. The weather could be managed, and rare materials could be obtained with little effort. There wasn’t as much scarcity.

“It’s extropic,” you said. Sil gave you a bewildered look. “Er, instead of entropic. It’s extropic.”

“You’ve lost me.” Sil closed their book. “What are we talking about?”

“Your world. My world is entropic, which means it moves away from order and toward chaos. This world’s the opposite, extropic. It moves toward order. Through magic, I would assume. But it means that you aren’t as concerned with… I don’t know, losing resources.” You flipped your book closed. “It’s a lot less cutthroat than my world. I guess because you can always be reassured there will be enough to go around.”

Sil didn’t seem to entirely understand what you were musing about, but they understood that you were melancholy. “Do you miss your home?”

“Yeah. I do.” You pushed yourself to your feet, grimacing at the pain in your side. Sil had been giving you some kind of potion that stitched your ribs back together rapidly, but they still ached after a couple of weeks. “Even if it was a hard place to live, it had some advantages. Like the internet.”

“The what?”

“Ah. Never mind.” You stretched and groaned. “Ow.”

“I did tell you that you should rest,” Sil said. They had been growing more insistent on you staying in bed the longer you stayed with them, as you had grown more insistent on getting up and walking around. It felt wrong to be lying around in bed while Sil worked.

“I can’t just lie around forever. I want to help out,” you said. “I can’t keep being a drain on you.”

Sil’s face scrunched up. “People aren’t a drain. I became a healer to help people get better. I’m helping you do that right now.”

“Yeah, but you’re not getting paid to take care of me. I can at least pay you back another way.” Sil stared at you, head tilted slightly to one side. That seemed to be a difference in the worlds. There was some system that at least resembled capitalism, with shops and craftspeople and the like, but Sil never seemed concerned about money, even though they didn’t really charge most of the people who came to see them.

“You don’t need to pay me back,” Sil said, but you glared and they gave up on protesting. “All right, all right, if you’re going to insist on helping me, I suppose I wouldn’t want to turn down the extra help. Come. I’m making salves and antiseptics. It’s fairly easy. Shouldn’t strain you at all.”

Sil took you across the room to a small worktable covered in bundles of herbs. “All right. Take these three herbs and roll them in the binding sap, then mash it all together. It’ll create an antiseptic paste that also has some numbing agents in it. Very useful for bad cuts.”

You sat down across from Sil and started separating herbs and mixing them in the way Sil had instructed. It was slow, soothing work. “And you sell these?”

“Mn. Mostly. I’ve given some away, if the customer can’t pay.” Sil gathered a bundle of herbs together and examined them for a moment before tying them together. “You’re very concerned about money.”

“Oh. I don’t mean to be shallow or anything. It’s just… I was very concerned about money in my own world. I was pretty poor.” You carefully scooped every last bit of the paste you’d made into a jar and set it aside. “I was actually about to lose my apartment because I couldn’t pay rent. It was something I thought about a lot back then. I guess I can’t get rid of the worry even now.”

Sil seemed vaguely disturbed by the concept, but didn’t say anything. You got the idea they were refraining from critiquing your home out of sheer politeness.

“We’ll need to go to market a little later today,” they said, gently changing the subject. “Would you like to come?”

You perked up at that. “You’ll let me?” Sil had been cautious about letting you leave the house, probably out of an overabundance of caution.

“I can tell you’re getting cagey,” Sil said. They gave a small, fond smile. “I know I’ve been trying to keep you from doing very much, and I know that’s frustrating. I assure you, I won’t keep it up forever. I just don’t want you to be injured.” Their smile widened. “It would be a shame if anything happened to a cute thing like you.”

You started, face burning. Sil had a habit of dropping little compliments into conversation. Either they were unaware of how much it flustered you, or they found it amusing. Sil turned back to their bundle of herbs, leaving you to think on that.

Were they flirting with you? It was… well, you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. They were cute, certainly. Their little fangs were almost painfully adorable, as was their habit of absently humming to themselves and the way their tail curled around one of their legs when they were nervous. And, well, their personality certainly wasn’t half bad either. Caring, gentle, a good sense of humor.

On the other hand… well, they might not be flirting with you. They seemed generally friendly, so it might just be them being nice, or caring for you because you were their patient. Would they even want to consider dating you after treating you as their ward? Were you even really crushing on them or would the feelings fade once you left them?

Sil cleared their throat. “Something wrong?”

You startled out of your thoughts. “Uh, no. Just thinking.”

Sil lifted an eyebrow. “You were staring at me.” Did they sound amused? Flattered? Pleased? Were you reading too much into this?

“I was just staring off into space,” you said. Sil looked at you for a moment longer, then went back to their work. You breathed a sigh of relief. Your heart fluttered rapidly in your chest.

About half an hour later, you had finished prepping the herbs and Sil was preparing for market. They pulled a coat over their shoulders and held out one for you. “You’re still feeling all right?” they asked as they slid the coat on for you. “The pain isn’t too bad?”

“It’s fine. Honestly, it’s itching more than anything.” The feeling of your ribs stitching themselves together manifested as a nearly constant pricking under your skin. Attempting to scratch only made the pain worse, so you had to grit your teeth and deal with it.

“That’s good,” Sil said. “It means it’s healing.”

You rolled your eyes as Sil opened the door and stepped outside. “You would say that. You’re not the one who has to experience it.”

Sil laughed and made a sympathetic clucking noise with their tongue. “I’ll see if I can’t make you something to soothe it when we get back home. But it is good that you’re healing. You’ll be able to go out on your own soon.”

A flicker of nervousness jumped through your stomach. “Mmhm,” you murmured. Sil didn’t seem to notice your hesitation. They strode down the dirt pathway that led to the proper town, the hand on your back gently steering you along.

Sil had taken you into town a couple of times before, though only for a brief time and always with the maximum amount of concern and fussing. This time, they were actually content to let you walk away from them, though you could feel their eyes on you like a hawk.

“Looks like the little human is up and about again!” You tried not to jump in surprise as a booming voice echoed out from a shop. A tall, muscular woman with a cow’s head stood in the doorway of her shop, arms folded over her chest. She was the town tailor, and stood at least six and a half feet tall. Her calling you little was less about your shortness and more about the fact that everyone was shorter than she was. You’d met her out of necessity, as she was the one who’d gotten you most of your clothes.

“Hi, Matilda,” you said. “Yeah. And thanks for all the clothes, by the way. They fit really well.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased with them. Not my best work. I’ll need to get some more measurements to get you some more fitted stuff.” She nodded at Sil. “As long as they allow it, of course.”

“Not yet. The ribs aren’t fully healed, and I know you don’t mean to, but sometimes you don’t know your own strength,” Sil said. “I’m sure we’ll be back to get some more clothes at another time.” Matilda shrugged and gave you a small wink.

“Come back anytime, dear.” She headed back into the shop. Sil rested a hand on your back and led you further into the town.

“We’re just going to get some supplies,” Sil said, glancing down at the list they were carrying. “I need more bandages. And some more food. Hm, and I suppose it’ll be good, now that you’re feeling better, to show you around town.” They tucked the list back into their pocket. “You are still feeling well, yes?”

“Sil, I’m fine.” They looked concerned, still, but they dropped the subject.

The town Sil was a part of was ridiculously quaint, at least by your standards. According to Sil, it was actually fairly advanced. You were at least glad the place had running water and indoor plumbing. Still, it was a closely knit community where, if you needed something, you were probably going to go to someone in town to get it. There was a potter, a blacksmith, a carpenter. Sil could practically name where every item in his house came from. It was sweet, really. It made every part of the community feel important.

On the other hand, it meant that there were very little openings in the town. Sil had made a casual mention that you might need to move to another city, and the thought of that sent a nervous flutter through your stomach. Be on your own? In a world you didn’t quite understand? But you couldn’t impose on Sil anymore than you already had. If they wanted you to move out, how could you say no?

“Sugar.” Sil’s gentle, lilting voice pushed into your consciousness. “Everything all right?”

“Fine. Just thinking.” Sil tilted their head, a crease of worry forming between their brows. “I’m really fine, Sil. I can just drift off sometimes. It doesn’t mean I’m in incredible amounts of pain.”

Sil pressed their lips together. “You aren’t, are you?”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I’m fine. Are you this fussy about everyone?”

“Are you kidding?” You glanced over your shoulder. An enormous naga was slithering toward you, her tail undulating as she approached. “I once broke three of my fingers and this one just tied them together and told me I should be fine to keep working if I really wanted to.”

“They weren’t broken. You sprained them!” Sil sputtered. “And I did not say that. I said you should be able to return to work soon. It wasn’t a bad sprain.”

The naga, Evelyn, rolled her eyes in your direction. “I once got a hand full of splinters and they snapped at me every time I flinched. No bedside manner at all.”

“Really?” That seemed hard to believe. Sil had been nothing but sweet to you since you arrived.

“You were whining! And splinters certainly are not the same thing as broken ribs.” Sil’s face had brightened to an impressive shade of red. “And just because I choose not to exercise it on you doesn’t mean I don’t have bedside manners.”

Evelyn rolled her dark, glittering eyes. “Sure, Sil.” She lounged closer to you, drooping the upper half of her body over your shoulder. “Watch their tail,” she said, lips close to your ear. “If the tip starts going mad when you touch them, make a move.” She shot Sil a grin and dropped off your shoulder. “If you want another storage case, stop by any time,” she said, waving a hand back at you as she slithered off. “I’ll be around.”

Sil’s cheeks were still brightly flushed and they spent a moment fussing with their robes before looking aback at you. “She ought to be more careful, throwing herself all over someone who was recently injured.” Their voice was full of indignation, almost as though her presence had genuinely agitated them.

“I told you already, Sil. I’m fine.”

“Oh, all right.” Their hands fluttered tentatively against your side for a moment. “Do you want to stop by the bakery? You didn’t have much for breakfast and you need to keep your strength up.”

“Sure,” you said. Then, just as an experiment, you reached out a hand and placed it on their shoulder. The edge of your hand rested at the hem of their shirt, so there was a flicker of skin-to-skin contact. Their tail shivered, the tip dancing back and forth in the dirt. The flush, which had been slowly fading from their face, returned in full force. “Thank you, Sil.”

They moved their mouth for a moment. “Oh. Uh. You are very welcome.” They squeezed your hand before gently removing it from their shoulder. “Come on.” Their hand lingered against yours for a moment before they released it.

The bakery was run by a pair of fauns. As far as you were aware, they were twins. Evidently, Sil had helped them both on a couple of occasions and now they could get free food almost whenever they wanted. By the time you left the store, your arms were laden with sweets.

The pair of you munched on them casually as you walked around town. There were a few faces that you didn’t recognize, but you knew most of them, and most of them could remember you. The town was so small that new faces were almost immediately recognized. All of them seemed to know Sil, and greeted them with familiarity and reverence.

Still, the longer you spent time in town, the more uncertain you grew about your place there. None of the skills the townspeople had were skills you could really help with, and when you thought through your own abilities, you weren’t sure you had anything to offer. Every person in the town seemed to fit a niche. You weren’t sure what niche you could fill.

“Sugar?” Sil nudged you. “Are you in pain?”

“What?” you said, starting out of your thoughts again. Sil hesitantly extended a hand and cupped your chin in their palm. Their thumb swept along the underside of your eye. Something wet came away with their fingertip.

“Your eyes are watering,” they said. “Is the pain that bad? You should have said something.”

“Oh.” There was pain, a dull ache in your side that radiated along your back. But it wasn’t bad enough to cry over. “No, no, it’s not that.”

You had intended to be reassuring, but Sil’s expression only grew more concerned. They stepped in closer to your side, allowing you to lean on them as you walked. “What’s the matter, then?”

You took a deep breath. Worry jumbled up in your chest and throat, jamming the words from coming. After a moment, you just shook your head. To their credit, Sil didn’t push. They just put an arm over your shoulders and helped you back to their house.

When you were seated back on the couch and Sil had finished putting the materials you’d acquired away, they settled in next to you. “Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

“It’s…” You fumbled the words once more. There was a lot you were feeling and you weren’t sure how to get it all out in a way that made sense. Sil waited for you, eyes solemn and patient. Finally, the words came out. “Do you want me to leave?” The question that emerged was more pathetic than you’d hoped for. There was a pleading edge to it. Please, I’m scared, don’t make me go!

Sil’s mouth popped open, then snapped shut. They seemed genuinely thrown. “I- No. Where is this coming from?”

You took a deep breath and attempted to sort your thoughts out. “You keep talking about me leaving. Maybe needing to go to the city. And there’s not really any place for me here, nothing necessary. But…” Your voice wavered embarrassingly. Damn. You didn’t want to cry in front of Sil again. They’d seen quite enough of that.

“But?” Sil pressed. Their voice was gentle. One of their hands rested on your knee.

“I don’t want to leave,” you said. “I know it’s selfish, and I really don’t want to impose, but I’d miss you and I’d miss this place. I- I feel like I’m actually starting to make a life here, and I don’t want to leave everything again, but I don’t want to stay here if I’m not wanted-”

Sil hugged you.

Their arms around you were gentle, exerting a reassuring amount of pressure. One of their hands splayed across your back, moving in slow, soothing circles. You hugged them back, pressing your face into their shoulder.

“Shh,” Sil murmured. “Shh. It’s all right.” They pulled back a little, letting their other hand come up to your face. Their thumb stroked along your cheekbone. “You’ve been worrying about this for a while, haven’t you?” Their voice was soft, utterly caring. A swell of tears formed in your eyes again. You blinked rapidly and nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to make you feel like you weren’t wanted here.”

The hand on your face moved back to stroke through your hair. Sil took in a deep, slow breath. “I think I may have overcorrected, slightly,” they said. “I know I’ve been bringing up you potentially going to the city a lot- I was trying to give you an out, you see, if you didn’t want to stay here. I didn’t want you to feel like you were trapped. I suppose I may have pushed it too hard.”

“Oh,” you said. Relief flooded through you. “Then you do want me to stay? Or, at least, you’re all right with it? I mean, I don’t want to push to stay if you don’t want me here. Is it weird having me in your house? I can start seeing if I can move out-”

“Shh, shh,” Sil said, lifting their voice over yours. “Oh, you really worry too much. No. I don’t want you to leave.” They licked their lips. “There may have been a bit of a selfish reason I’ve not been so keen on you staying. I kept suggesting the city because… Ah, I was trying to work up the courage to ask you something. I didn’t want to make it awkward for you, since you’re staying here. I thought, maybe if you had somewhere to go, it wouldn’t be so bad if you, ah. Turned me down.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. Heat rose to your face. “Something you wanted to ask?”

Sil nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it for a bit. I don’t want you to think- well, it’s not something I’m jumping into rashly. I’ve considered it. And if you refuse, I certainly won’t hold it against you. I just… I don’t want you to leave, either. Having you around here isn’t a burden. I enjoy it. Ever since I met you. And not just because you’re a human, and a starfaller. You’re… smart and thoughtful and considerate and determined, I-” Sil cut themselves off. “I’m getting ahead of myself. I should come out and say it.” Sil took a deep breath. “I’m attracted to you. Very attracted to you. I have been for a little while. I know that it might not be a good time, and I understand if you don’t want a relationship right now. If you want to leave or stay somewhere else, I understand. But… I want you here. I love every minute you’re here with me. I just thought you should know that.”

Sil fell silent. They fidgeted slightly, barely able to look you in the eyes. You felt slightly stunned. That explained a lot. Their fussiness over your wounds, their insistence that they enjoyed having you around. And, as they had confessed to you, you felt something. A relief, a gratitude. A sort of tremulous oh, thank God. They like me too.

“Sil,” you said in a quiet voice. “I want to kiss you right now.”

Their eyes widened. “I… I think I would like that.”

Your lips met tentatively, then with more passion. Sil pressed their mouth firmly against yours, leaning you back against the couch. Their hands fumbled to cling to your shirt. Behind them, their tail waved furiously, curling and twisting with delight.

One of Sil’s hands pressed against your side and you gave a strangled groan. Sil pulled back immediately. “Oh! I’m so sorry. Are you all right? Oh, dear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Let me see.” They fussed at your side for a moment. “Perhaps we should wait a little longer before we try anything rougher, hm?” They gave you a sheepish grin.

“I suppose,” you said. You leaned up and gave Sil a peck on the cheek. One of your hands trailed casually down their front, prompting their pale skin to flush deep red. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting the day.”

#exophilia #monster lover #tiefling #monster romance #tiefling lover #gn reader

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giggly-squiggily · 3 years

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Where Are The Pockets? (My Hero Academia)

Heyo everyone! So...I had an epiphany today.

I was looking at all the various costumes the characters in MHA have (specifically Todoroki because lately he’s been my favorite) and realized that not alot of them have pockets. Sure, they have utility belts and whatnot, but no pockets! It’s a crime!

Not really, but still! I was once again craving Lee!Todoroki, and I really like him and Yaoyorozu as a pair (platonic or romantic, I love it either way), so I decided to write a fic for them! I hope you like it!

Summary: An interesting costume choice leaves Yaoyorozu curious about Todoroki’s outfit. What follows is a discovery Todoroki hoped would never come to light.

Yaoyorozu was staring at him.

Todoroki knew this, and still didn’t know how to react. They sat beside each other in class daily, so it wasn’t as If she didn’t know him. They’ve also been paired up before many times, so his quirk couldn’t have been that new of a discovery. The duel-elementalist racked his brain, trying to think of a reason.

“Erm, Yaoyorozu...what’s wrong?” He finally asked, turning to face her full on. The girl startled slightly, cheeks flushing a dusted pink upon getting caught. “Oh! I’m sorry, Todoroki...it’s just...your costume…”

“My costume?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Surely this one was better than his last. The costume designers for UA completely revamped it without telling him, noting the original white uniform “clashed with his hair” and “simply wasn’t good.” The blue one was much nicer, he’d admit, but still…

“Yes. Your costume. It has a major design flaw I simply can’t ignore.” Yaoyorozu nodded, growing firm with her conclusion. “It has no pockets.”

Todoroki blinked, processing the information. “No...pockets?” He mused, looking down at his clothes. Sure enough, his costume lacked pockets. “I’m not sure why that’s such a problem, though…” he responded, making Yaoyorozu gasp. “What? Of course it’s a problem! Well...maybe more an inconvenience...but still!” She looked up at him with such determined eyes. It was frankly adorable. “Pockets are a must for any costume!”

He was about to point out that her own hero costume didn’t have any pockets when she suddenly closed the gap between them,ducking behind him as her hands found his sides, feeling the material beneath her fingers. “Such a shame. It’s a nicely made costume- as to be expected from UA. Still, pockets would be so much more beneficial.”

“Tch! Y-Yaoyorozu...W-Wait!” Todoroki squirmed, his lips flattening out forcefully as her fingers danced along his sensitive sides. It was an unfortunate weakness; he was ridiculously ticklish. Even someone hinting they were gonna tickle him set him off, an advantage his friends abused on the daily.

“Hm? Let’s see here...oh, here’s a good place for a pocket! Oh, and here aswell!” Yaoyorozu teased, her nimble fingers poking at his sides and stomach in various spaces, making him jump with soft restrained yelps. “Ah! Y-Yaoyorozu! Pl-plehease!” Damn! A giggle escaped. Then another. It didn’t take long for the hiccupy giggles to start pouring out his lips as Yaoyorozu scribbled her nails against his ticklish torso.

“Oh, are you ticklish, Todoroki? Awww! That’s really cute! A ticklish hero! And a cute one at that!” She teased, grinning when his cheeks flushed as red as his hair, eyes squeezing shut as he laughed. “Hehe, that’s right. Smile for me.” She said softly, resting her chin against his shoulder as her hands squeezed beneath his ribs, effortlessly dodging his flailing limbs. “Back to the topic at hand. I think pockets would be good here...here, oh definitely here!”

“GAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! Y-YOHOHOHOUR DOHOHOHOING THIHIHIS OHOHOHON PEHEHEHEHURPOHOHOUSE!” He squealed when she squeezed his thigh, catching him as he started to fall. “Who, me? I would never!” Yaoyorozu giggled, her other hand around his waist clawing at his belly. “I’m just pointing out good spots for pockets, that’s all.”

Todoroki was too lost in his own mirth to do anything, laughing helplessly as Yaoyorozu brought him to his knees, falling into the soft grass with wheezy giggles and laughs. He tried to block her speedy fingers, his attempts to block her playful touch all in vain. “MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMOOHOHO PLHEHEEHHEHEHASE!” He cried, tears of mirth dotting his eyes as he curled into a ball, running down his flushed cheeks, making the creative hero blush at the use of her first name.

Finally, Yaoyorozu had mercy, laughing softly as she finished tickling him, sweeping her hand up and giving his neck a quick scribble before finally stopping. “So cute…” she mused, smiling softly as Todoroki gasped for breath. The half-and-half hero closed his eyes, reaching up to cover his flushed face. “Hehe..hehhehe….heh…” he weakly laughed, sucking down air as he recovered.

Beside him, Yaoyorozu giggled, reaching out and gently smoothing out his costume. “Heh, sorry about that. It was too tempting not to.” She reached up and gently grasped his hand, rubbing soothing circles into his knuckles. “Well, pockets or no, you look great, especially all flustered and giggly.”

“Stahap…” Todoroki groaned as he moved his hands, sending her a halfhearted glare. Yaoyorozu giggled. “Hey, Todoroki. Look at me for a moment?” She asked sweetly, watching as he slowly turned to her. “Wha-?” He asked before she ducked down, kissing his wet cheek. “Thanks for sharing that lovely smile with me, Shoto. It suits you.”

The bi-colored hero blushed deeply, covering his heated face as steam rose from his left side. Yaoyorozu laughed before lying down on his right, closing her eyes against the warm sun, her own cheeks flushed a warm pink. ‘So adorable…” she thought to herself as the pair spent the rest of the afternoon peacefully.

I hope this was good! I had a blast writing it! X3

#mha/bnha #todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #tickle #tickle fic #Lee!Todoroki #Ler!Yaoyorozu #but seriously #where are their pockets #This is a crime!#But not really #It did give me fun ideas to write about #Thanks for reading!#sfw tickling

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laventadorn · 4 years

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hold this for me

A/N: It’s FINALLY done!

Read on AO3

The cold was sharp and biting, the sky craggy with dark clouds. Harriet, bundled up in her heavy winter cloak, followed the trench Snape had crushed in the snow as he walked ahead. Snow powdered on the black cloak hem, crunched beneath his boots; her breath hung cloudy in the air. The world was silent except for those breathing sounds, the breaking of snow and the settling of branches in the dark mass of the forest ahead.

Snape turned his head a little, one black eye peering over his shoulder, past strings of his hair. She smiled, reflexively. He whipped forward again, as if pretending he hadn’t been caught looking back at her. She saw the tip of his ear turn red and grinned.

The plan she’d formed last night was already getting a good set-up.

Jogging a little, she closed the gap. He didn’t look around, but he shifted the basket on his arm. Since he didn’t register discomfort until something like his leg was about to fall off, she knew he wasn’t moving it to find a better position. This was a fidget.

She hummed a little tune to herself, pleased. Snape let out a breath, like it was too much work to sigh. She grinned.

“If we were here to find anything that required stealth,” he said, his voice curling in the air like fog, “you’d be making all our work useless.”

“You wouldn’t have brought me if you needed stealth. Although I can be perfectly sneaky.”

“Sneaky is not the same thing as circumspect,” he said dryly.

“Well, we’re just here for plants anyway.”

“Some plants require stealth in order to approach. Which you’d know, if you paid attention in Herbology,” he said, like the swot he was. This would be the sort of snotty grown-up observation that would completely kill the mood if Hermione didn’t also say the same things all the time (only more nicely).

She rolled her eyes. “Gosh, how will my ego survive you trashing my Herbology marks?”

They’d come to the edge of the forest, into the shadow of the trees, the forest gloom folding over them.

“These are Frost Blooming Drops,” said Snape, still swotty. “They grow quite a distance inside the forest. If you get cold, you know what to do; you’re a witch.”

“I’m all set.” She patted her cloak pocket, where a jar of Hermione’s little bluebell flames warmed her ribs.

“And don’t wander off. We use the Forbidden Forest as a defense boundary for a very good reason.”

“I’ll be clingy,” she promised.

“Hm.” Snape’s gaze slanted along his gaunt cheekbones, then swept forward again. She smiled and followed him beneath the enfolding branches of the snow-crusted trees.

The thing with Snape was, you had to filter everything through a translator. There was normal-person speech, which would express concern by asking “Are you warm enough?” However, Snape-speech was, “If you get cold, you’re a witch.” After all, if he didn’t care, he’d have waited until she was already freezing before saying anything.

There was also this whole outing. Yesterday Snape had actually showed up at lunch, sat next to Slughorn (who was on Harriet’s left), and made noise about going into the Forbidden Forest to collect some rare seasonal flowers. It was a very long walk; the flowers weren’t even very useful, hardly seen in any potions you would use except twice every five years; pretty much a waste of time to bother collecting them. He’d go early so he could get there and back before dark.

This was clearly an invitation. He wasn’t even the Potions professor this year, and Slughorn’s attitude had clearly wondered why anyone would be so mental. So Harriet had bundled up this morning after breakfast and loitered near the empty Quidditch Pitch until Snape turned up with a basket over his arm. His face passed through some interlocking expressions that she couldn’t decipher, but all he said was, “Walk behind me,” and crunched a path through the snow. This, too, was Snape-concern: if he made a path, she didn’t have to.

The snow in the forest wasn’t as deep, so she could walk next to him. He kept fidgeting with his basket. She smiled to herself.

It might work in her favor that he was twitchy about something. She’d come on this outing with one specific goal, and she might be able to get away with it if he was too distracted to see it coming.

“So what potions do these flowers go into?”

“What do you think Frost Blooming Drops would be used for?” he retorted, which she interpreted as a desire to have a conversation. Good; it saved her the trouble of pestering him for one.

“Minty fresh breath?” She smirked.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “I should know better than to ask you Potions trivia.”

“Probably,” she said peaceably. Her middling marks seemed to genuinely irk him, although now that he was her Defense professor and she was his top student, he didn’t seem to know what to do about it. Sometimes he seemed downright helpless.

“So, what do they do?” she asked again.

“One of them does give you the power to expel frozen breath.”

She squinted. “You’re making that up.”

“Would I?” he asked blandly.

Right, a double agent who never made things up; that was believable. “What would you need frozen breath for?”

“You tell me.”

“Mmm. It’s hot out, and you want a cold drink?”

“Yes, for a wizard it would be far more sensible to mix a potion to cool the breath than to simply conjure ice.”

She grinned. “Which is why I’m saying you made it up.”

“You’ll have to do better than that if you want to trap me into admitting anything,” he said, affecting boredom. She knew it was fake because he was picking at a sticking-out bit of weave on his basket with a split fingernail.

She pointed a mittened finger at him. “So you do admit something.”

There was a glint in his eye, but his voice was still bland and his expression smooth. “I speak generally.”

“Yeah, sure. C’mon, don’t you want me to learn something about Potions for real?”

He gave her a look: I-know-what’s-in-your-head-and-it-most-certainly-isn’t-Potions. “If I thought it wouldn’t go in one ear and out the other, perhaps I’d give it a shot.”

She shrugged, smiled, and spread her hands in their mittens. He only rolled his eyes again.

They crunched along for a bit without speaking. Harriet watched his hand fiddling with the edge of his basket and thought about her plan. She’d mapped it out last night. All she had to do was find the right moment. . . She’d say, “Here, hold this for me,” and he’d say some variation of, “Why do I have to hold something for you? Aren’t you a witch?” but he’d put his hand out anyway, and then she’d--

“Harriet!”

“Huh?” She looked around, because he wasn’t next to her anymore.

“What did I say?” He was glaring her way, one foot below the edge of the path, apparently ready to climb down something. “What did I say about wandering off?”

“Right, right, my bad.” She crunched over to him. The tops of his cheekbones were pink, for some reason. Maybe it was the cold.

She peered down the slope, where a little side trail made of rocks descended along a narrow trench, beside a gentle stream of black water. “We’re going down there, then?”

“Watch your footing.” He stressed every word. “These rocks are icy.”

He shot a spell at the rocks to crack the ice, but even without the ice, the rocks were still wet, and she did have to watch her step. At the bottom, where a little trail wound into the snowy gloom beside the stream, he put his wand away.

His glare was still giving off little sparks, like a log settling in the fireplace, so she put on her best contrite air and decided she should wait till he cooled off a little before she tried. . . anything.

She hadn’t actually been in a snowy forest before, despite living on the borders of one most of the year for the past six years. Her previous jaunts into the Forbidden Forest had been during autumn and spring, but it was. . . different now. It was almost completely silent, and the silence seemed to have a weight, almost like being underwater. She felt almost like speaking would be wrong, as if she’d entered a temple that called for silence.

The light faded the deeper they went, the shadows gaining depth, as if they were in an old photograph.

Sometimes she thought she heard voices in the distance, whispers or laughter or broken pieces of song. We use the Forbidden Forest as a defense boundary for a very good reason, Snape had said. She wanted to shiver for a different reason than the cold.

She cleared her throat quietly. “I’ve been in here before, obviously.”

“Really?” Snape said with diamond-grade sarcasm, but his voice, like hers, was soft.

She rolled her eyes, one corner of her mouth pulling up. “But it never felt like this before.”

“It’s affected by time of year. Much of what lives in the forest is either hibernating or gone, and this close to the winter solstice, there is more. . . activity among the non-living and the magical. In your first year’s detention” -- he gave her a look that said he wouldn’t forget about that little lark if he lived eight hundred years -- “you didn’t go this deep.”

She nodded and lapsed back into silence.

In the crisp, aching silence, a voice somewhere in the murky shadows began singing again. She couldn’t decide if the song was happy or sad. She didn’t think the words were English. They lifted and fell, fading in and out of hearing. Trying to catch the tune, she hummed along.

“What are you singing?” Snape asked, almost idly.

“Dunno. Whatever it is they’re singing.”

Snape stopped walking. His cloak swung against her legs and his basket bumped her upper arm. “Whatever who is singing?”

“Uh. . .” She looked around. They were the only people nearby -- she hoped? Or did she definitely not? Would it look too chicken to edge closer to him? The non-living and the magical, he’d said. “I. . . don’t really know.”

Snape’s gaze bore into her. “I repeat: do not wander off.” He even reached out and plucked at her cloak, drawing her to walk right next to him.

Oh, this was the perfect time. All she had to do was calm down the jumping beans that had suddenly rented a trampoline in her gut.

It’s easy, she told herself. Just pull off your mitten -- he’s not even wearing gloves, cuz he’s too cool for the cold or something -- and say, “Hey, can you hold this for me?”

She tugged at her right mitten. Her left mitten slipped on the woolly rounded edge. Why hadn’t she bloody worn gloves?

“Hey,” she said, clearing her stupid throat, which was wanting to stick shut for some stupid reason, “would you--”

“Look,” he said, weirdly close to her ear. His arm crossed in front of her, almost brushing her nose. The black wool had a smell like woodsmoke and wintergreen. Standing almost right up against him, she could see the individual strands of his eyelashes.

??? said her brain.

Snape sighed through his nose. “Over there.” He tapped her shoulder and pointed -- oh, that’s what he’d been doing.

She looked to the left and let out a soft oh.

Floating through the air were little blue fires, in a loose formation almost like a flock of birds. Not just floating, but drifting in the same direction she and Snape had been walking, at about head height. Against the dark trunks of the trees and the snow in the foliage above and on the ground below, they were like a constellation under construction. She’d never seen anything like it, and she felt a deep urge, almost like she’d swallowed it, to step off the path and follow them.

“What are they?” she asked in a low voice.

“Little ghosts. Not fully formed, like the ones at Hogwarts -- more like impressions.”

This would be a really good time to grab his hand. She wanted something to hold onto. But she was afraid that if she moved, she’d go running after the little ghost fires. As if Snape would let her, but she’d look really stupid.

She swallowed, trying to hold very still, like that could dissolve the lump of yearning that had settled into her core. “Why do I want to go after them?”

“They’re lures.” Snape put a hand on her shoulder, as if holding her in place. “We’ll wait for them to pass.”

“Lures?” Jesus, was her back sweating? He was voluntarily touching her shoulder and she was trying so hard not to go running off after ghost fires that she couldn’t even properly appreciate it.

“The Forbidden Forest has its share of gateways that the living should never pass through.”

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all.

They watched the ghost fires bob through the tree trunks, fading as they passed into thicker shadows. When the light of the last one winked out, Snape dropped his hand from her shoulder. He let out a breath, as if he’d been holding it in.

“This is why I told you not to go wandering off.” He brushed a hand down the front of his cloak, another nervous gesture; the black fabric was pristine. His hand shook a little, and there was a dent between his eyebrows. “Not many people would have been able to keep from following them.”

Harriet’s jostled brain processed this. That was another compliment, wasn’t it? She clenched her hand in its mitten -- Hey, hold this for me -- just say it, dammit, and take his hand, his hand had been shaking --

“Hey, uh.” She cleared her throat, which felt two sizes too big. “Would you hold this. . . ?”

“Hm?” He bloody seemed to have been thinking about something else.

“What?” He focused on her the hazy look in his eye fading.

All her courage deflated. She wanted to smack herself between the eyes, or maybe even him. It turned out that having him distracted was not good for the plan.

“Nothing,” she muttered, and tugged her mitten back on.

“Then come along.” He shooed her lightly and started walking.

Blowing out an explosive breath that ruffled her fringe, she trudged forward.

“You didn’t follow them,” she said after a bit.

“Hmm,” Snape said again. “No.”

“You said not many would’ve been able to, but it was really hard for me. You seemed fine, though.”

“You exerted control without assistance,” he said dismissively, as if the compliment didn’t matter. “They had little effect on me. They’re more interested in. . .” His mouth twisted, the glint in his eye sardonic. “The young.”

She didn’t think he’d appreciate any commentary on that, so she asked instead, “How young is young?”

“Past twenty, their powers considerably diminish.”

“What, are kids, like. . . Happy Meals to them?”

“Mm,” Snape said, bland again. “So you see, you had more to contend with.”

He turned his attention forward again. Harriet supposed she’d let him, since he seemed to be watching for more creepy things that could lure them away to make snacks out of them, and so she could smile like a dope without him noticing. Well, hopefully.

“We haven’t run into any centaurs,” she said once she’d gotten her face under control. “I thought they didn’t like people coming into their territory.”

“They don’t. But this isn’t their territory. They live farther to the east. We’re headed southwest.”

“Huh. I ran into them both times I came in here before, though.”

“In your first year, Firenze was out of bounds, deliberately. As for last year, Miss Granger knew exactly where she was going.”

Harriet had to be proud of Hermione. Trust her not only to come up with the idea to lure Umbridge into centaur territory but to actually know where to find it. Harriet had thought they just roamed the forest at will.

“Here,” said Snape, stopping, his cloak brushing against her leg. He was pointing at a black rock that towered over them on the side of the path.

“. . . a rock?” Harriet said.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Follow me.”

Then he stepped down the embankment and disappeared into the bloody rock!

Harriet jumped off the path, slid on the icy ground, saw the rock rushing at her face, and threw out her hands to brace her fall. Only instead of the rock, she plowed straight into Snape. Not expecting her to suddenly hurtle at him, he was knocked off his feet; they tumbled to the ground.

“What in God’s name was that?!” he snapped. But he was patting at her shoulders, as if checking for injuries. “Did a random ghost suddenly possess you?”

“. . . I thought the rock ate you,” she said sheepishly. There were some twigs in his hair where his head had struck the ground; wincing, she reached up and pulled one out. “Sorry, sorry.”

His face did something that was difficult to interpret even for her. She’d have called it flustered if he didn’t look so disgusted, or disgusted if his eyes hadn’t looked so wide and helpless. He snatched his hands back and twisted his face away, patting the ground for his basket, like it might have gone invisible and he could only find it by touch. She found the basket behind her and silently offered it in apology.

“Thought the rock ate me,” he said, his voice sounding funny. When he saw her holding the basket in his periphery, he snatched it out of her hands and started turning it over a bit -- well, a bit crazily.

“You just disappeared. What was I supposed to do?” She looked up at the rock walls rising above them, black and slick with ice, and the little path between the two. “It was an illusion?”

“Less than you’re thinking. The angle of the rocks makes the path invisible.” He got to his feet, brushing ineffectually at his cloak, leaving a muddy handprint that he didn’t even seem to notice. “This way.”

There was still forest detritus stuck in his hair. Harriet figured she’d mention it later.

No more disasters befell them as they came out the other side of the rocks. They’d come to the edge of a slight clearing in the forest, where the ground sloped down toward a massive tree, ancient, even the lowest of its towering branches soaring above the younger trees around it. All up its trunk sprouted piercing white blossoms, glimmering in the icy air like a cascade of pearls, and broken petals lay scattered across the frost-tipped earth, shimmering in the wintry light.

“Damn,” she whispered, her breath fogging the air.

Snape gave a delicate snort. Harriet’s mouth twitched. “I see why you wanted to come here.”

“For Potions?” He gave her an ironic look, but his long fingers flexed on his basket.

She smiled. “Obviously.”

“We can’t use the petals on the ground,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him down the slope. “Well, you could, if you wanted to make perfumed sachets. But for potions, we need to pick the blossoms fresh.”

Harriet wasn’t the perfumed sachets type, but she thought Asteria might like some. Curious, she knelt and scooped up a handful of shimmering white blossoms. Their scent was sweet and light and somehow icy.

“Do you have--” She stopped and caught the bag Snape had tossed over. “Thanks,” she said, smiling, and scooped a couple handfuls of flowers in. If she had to take off her mitten to achieve greater accuracy, well, that was just taking advantage of an opportunity.

It felt sort of sacreligious to crush the fallen blossoms underfoot, but they lay in such a thick carpet that she didn’t have a choice. She crunched over to Snape’s position by the tree -- its roots were taller than he was -- where he was peeling the petals off the flowers twined in vines around the trunk. His long fingers moved delicately, without ripping the velvety blossoms. Her bare (very cold) hand wanted to reach up and fold over his. Too bad it would look so dumb right now.

“The best ones would be those up there,” he said, tilting his head all the way back to look up at the flowers clustered beneath the tree’s lowest branches. “But neither of us is quite tall enough.”

“We could’ve brought a broom,” she said, though surely he’d have thought of that.

“Inadvisable within the forest bounds. Don’t even think about it,” he added darkly.

“I wouldn’t.” Honestly, she wasn’t a danger addict. Hermione called it a ‘saving-people thing.’ Maybe it was, but just going into the Forbidden Forest for some flowers, by herself, was a bit much. Not only did the place rank high on the Creep-o-Meter, but too many people would flip out if she did.

“Good,” he said, like one would wield a knife.

She looked up the trunk, then reached out and tugged one of the hanging vines. It was sturdy wood. “I could climb up this.”

“You’re not climbing over a hundred feet off the ground.” She could just see the ‘Why did I think it was okay to bring Harriet freaking Potter into a danger zone’ zipping through his head.

“Not that high. Pretty sure my arms would give out. Just a bit further up.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“C’mon, just, like, six feet.”

“No.”

“I have muscles!”

“I don’t -- from what?” He switched tracks in the middle, looking confused.

“I do chin-ups in the Room of Requirement. And I’ve got a punching bag.” Her biceps and triceps weren’t bad, actually. She could deadlift Asteria no problem.

Snape seemed to be thinking about something else. When she reached out to grab the vine, he came back to life and plucked it out of her hands, looking flustered. “You’re not climbing anywhere. Stay on the ground. Right there.”

“It’s just climbing a damn tree, it’s hardly more dangerous than being in the forest in the first place.”

He pressed his lips together, looking steamed because he knew she was right. Not that he ever let a little thing like a reasonable argument sway him.

She jumped up and grabbed the tree root over her head.

“Harriet!”

“It’s fine!” She hoisted herself up and then swung her legs around until she was straddling the root. Below, Snape was fluffed up like an angry owl; he had his wand out, as if preparing to keep her from pancaking on the ground. “C’mon, Quidditch is more dangerous than this.”

“And I’m so happy you play it!”

“Thanks, that means a lot.” She scooted over so she could reach out and pick the blossoms. “How were you doing this?”

“For starters, I was standing on the ground!”

“And you’re really good at it, too,” she said kindly. He replied with an angry owl noise. “Taking the petals but not the stem, right?”

He chuntered under his breath while she gently extracted a petal and held it cupped it her bare hand. “Gimme the basket, ey?”

“I’ll give you a. . .” she heard him mutter, but he floated it up. He probably wanted to yank her off the branch but had realized this would defeat the purpose of protecting her from a fall and was reduced to hovering beneath the root and puffing out little swears that floated up to her as she worked.

“All right, that’s enough,” he said after maybe two minutes of this, which showed, for him, laudable restraint. “Come down.”

“Fine, okay.” She’d carried her point, at least. She handed the basket to him and then prepared to swing down.

She was dangling from the root for a second, gauging the distance to the ground, when something brushed at her legs. Startled, she kicked out with her foot, heard a grunt and then a light thud.

“Ah shit--” she said as she realized what had happened, and staggered when she hit the ground, falling onto her rear.

Snape was sitting sprawled out in his cloak, knocked for a second time to the ground, a very exfoliating glare knifing past his messy hair. The petals had spilled out of his basket.

“Sorry! Did you -- try to grab my legs?”

There were bright spots of color on his high cheekbones; Snape did not blush prettily. She wanted to pat his face. “I thought you weren’t sure how to get down!” He tried to brush his hair out of his face, straighten his cloak, and right his basket at the same time, and just ended up worse off than before.

Harriet found this behavior both cute and worrying, and silently helped him scoop the petals back into the basket. She hoped they weren’t ruined but didn’t dare to ask. When he got to his feet and stalked around the root to get to more petals, she followed and hovered without speaking, just watching him.

It occurred to her, finally, that if Snape was distracted, there must be a reason. He wasn’t a spacey person, and around her, his focus was normally laser-searing. And suddenly, the strangeness of him inviting her into the deadly Forbidden Forest, when he regularly fretted at her even getting up on a broom, begged to be noted.

She’d almost think he was an imposter, if it weren’t impossible for anyone to act as precisely peculiar as he did.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

He stilled, staring at the tree, nothing of him moving. Strands of hair hung around his ear, which was bare to the cold and a little red. His profile, always forbidding, was harsh and remote, but she thought for a moment that something like sadness flickered in his eye before he turned his face away.

“What about our lives right now is easy?” he asked after a long moment. He extracted another flower from the vine, delicately, as if maneuvering fine glass.

“Something’s bothering you,” she said, as slowly as he was picking the white petals off the tree. “Is that why you asked me out -- here?”

She’d almost said asked me out but realized just in time that this would make him clam up from embarrassment. If Hermione ever found out about this strange limbo of affection between them, she’d have a stroke and then report Snape to Dumbledore; but the truth was that Snape was more skittish than a cloistered maiden. There was a reason Harriet had spent all of last night and today plotting just to hold his hand for two seconds.

Snape paused with a petal in his fingers on the way to the basket, and then dropped it and lifted his hand to the next one.

“I merely thought. . .” he said, still delicate, and Harriet was almost amused that they were having this conversation in slow motion. “That time. . . doesn’t wait. For any of us.”

She frowned. “What’s that mean? Wait.” She took a step closer, trying to peer up into his face, but he turned away as if very interested in a patch of petals to his left. “Is something going to happen soon? What’s going to happen?”

“It’s merely a general observation,” Snape said tightly, picking up his flower-picking pace, his shoulders tight like a shield.

Bullshit. “Is this about you taking the Defense position? Is something going to happen to you?”

“Who knows what will happen?” he asked stiffly. “I’m done.”

He spun, a little clumsily, having retreated quite close to another root to hide, and ducked underneath it to stride off. “Come along,” he threw over his shoulder, and picked up his pace when she jogged after him. She broke into a run, knowing he wouldn’t do the same even to get away, and caught up.

“Then why are you acting weird?”

“I am a weird person,” he said waspishly, walking faster with his damn long legs. Well, she didn’t have a lot of dignity, so she skipped to keep up. His face flickered with something that may have been amusement or dismay.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re being a pest, that’s what’s going on.”

“If you told me,” she said, unperturbed, “I wouldn’t have to pester you.”

They were about to get to the rock path, which wouldn’t be wide enough for her to follow beside him. He was about to speed up --

Fine.

She reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Severus,” she said.

He froze at the touch of her hand, and then calcified at the sound of his name. The clearing was silent, the forest dormant and indifferent.

“If you’re in danger,” she said quietly, “I want to know.”

Snape’s hair fell in his face, and he stood as if any movement was too much to bear.

“Who is safe right now?” His voice was barely louder than the silence. “The two of us. . . are in possibly the most dangerous positions in our world. I’m a double agent, and you’re. . .”

“Public enemy number one?”

His hand shifted slightly in hers as he inhaled, as if he was taking a fortifying breath, or sighing.

“My tasks. . . are my burden to bear. Literally. It’s -- ” She imagined his mouth twisting, though his face was still turned away. “My job.”

She was quiet, processing this. She knew better than to think she could force him to tell her what was really going on. Getting any admission out of him, even one as simple as There’s something going on but you’re not going to know what it is, was a lot. “I hate your job,” she said at last.

“Really? I love it. It’s almost as enjoyable as grading.”

She smiled, though she didn’t feel like laughing.

“Come.” Snape took a tiny step forward, as if testing that he wasn’t going to break apart if he moved. “We’ve been out in this cold long enough.”

Gently, Harriet pressed on his hand, keeping hold of it. He could easily pull free if he wanted, but she tried to convey that she didn’t want him to.

At the pressure of her hand, he went still again, but only for a moment. When he started walking, he left his hand in hers, his fingers slightly curled around her palm

For now, that was enough.

#tner tag

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reynauldapologist · 3 years

Note

Beau + 99? Or maybe Vvulf + 17? 🤔

@nandashibs i did both! hope that’s okay :) also, i’m seriously beginning to think that you’re a psychic. how the hell did you know which songs would fit them the best??

apologies for any weird formatting or typos. i wrote all of this on my phone. putting it under a readmore bc this got a bit long.

Beau - Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga

(for anyone who’s unfamiliar, Beauregard is a HWM oc from one of my fics)

Hieromania, but make it silly:

Love is just a history that they may prove

And when you're gone, I'll tell them my religion's you.

Beauregard felt like he was breaking in. He knew he wasn’t - the Sisters had made it clear that the abbey was open to all, at any hour - but he couldn’t help but feel as though he was invading a sacred place, tainting it with his mere presence. It didn’t help that he had decided to visit so late at night. He’d been in churches before, sure, but the small stone chapel of his childhood seemed almost blasphemous next to this lofty place.

Big fluted pillars and a ribbed ceiling stretched above him, so high that the light from the fluttering lanterns posted at regular intervals along the walls couldn’t reach it. His breath caught in his throat. Small. He felt so small. Like a mouse scuttering along beneath a moonless night sky, waiting for the harsh scrape of an owl’s talons against his back. The altar rose at the end of the sanctuary, old and opulent, surrounded by hordes of lit candles, framed by blood-red tapestries. Beauregard crept forwards, hardly daring to breathe, unsure of what he even meant to do there. Statues of saints lined the small alcoves between the grand stained glass windows. Some wept, some stretched their hands out like beggars, some clutched at weapons, and others cradled their dismembered body parts.

Beauregard shivered. How could anyone relax in a place like this?

A door squeaked open at the end of one of the transepts. Beauregard stopped, frozen, crouched low before he could think of what he was doing. He slunk down one of the rows, as silent as a shadow scudding across an open field.

Great. As if you didn’t already look like a robber…

Heavy footsteps coming closer. His eyes darted around the sanctuary, searching for a more permanent hiding place. They fell on a statue of a man without a right hand and a knife in his left. If there was space behind it...

A shadow stretched along the far wall, made grotesque by the weak lighting.

It’s now or never!

He slipped into the gap between the statue and the alcove. It was a tight fit, and it was dusty, but it was doable. His nose was less than a hair’s breadth away from the back of the statue’s neck and his arms were twisted oddly to account for its form. Awfully intimate…

The footsteps echoed strangely off of the stone walls, making it difficult for him to pinpoint exactly where they were heading. Beauregard focused on his breathing. Slow and steady, in and out through the mouth. Beauregard couldn’t see what was happening around the statue’s head. Surely it was just the abbot, or one of the Sisters, there to check on the candles… No worshippers came here this late. Right?

Wrong.

The footsteps stopped. Directly in front of his alcove. Out of all of the alcoves in the abbey...

Now, Beauregard was certain that the Light must truly exist. There was no other explanation for such a cruel joke.

The rustle of clothes. A deep sigh.

“O Saint Dismas…”

Beauregard knew that voice.It was Reynauld, the old crusader.

...Saint Dismas?

“...patron of repentant thieves, I humbly beseech thee for thine guidance.”

Beauregard’s nose began to itch.

No. Oh, gods, no. Please.

“I have faltered once again. Forgive me for my weakness, my repeated transgressions.”

His eyes were watering. His mouth was opening.

I’ll do anything. I’ll convert. I’ll become a monk. I’ll never so much as glance at a tavern again, please, don’t let me-

“I have taken-“

“AH-CHOO!”

It was like he had fired off his flintlock. The sneeze echoed for far longer than it had any right to. The silence that followed was deafening.

Light, if you’re out there, have mercy and strike me down now.

As the seconds trickled by and it became clear that Death would not be paying him a visit anytime soon, Beauregard forced himself to break the silence.

“I…er...” Beauregard swallowed. “...forgive you?”

“Beauregard? Is that you?”

“Who’s asking?”

Another heavy sigh. A groan and a rustle of clothes as Reynauld got to his feet.

“Come out, lad.”

“A-Alright, listen, I can explain-“

“Now.”

Beauregard disentangled himself from the statue. Reynauld had his arms crossed over his chest and a severe expression on his face. Beauregard ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“I… Well, y’see, I was on a walk anyways, and it’s awful cold out there, and windy too, and I thought-“

Reynauld held up a hand. Beauregard shut his mouth.

“No. What are you doing hiding behind Saint Dismas?”

“Uh… I was… Trying to get closer to the Saints?”

Reynauld stared at him. Beauregard hunched his shoulders, ready for a lecture.

Reynauld started to say something, paused, and cleared his throat. He let out something like a rolling grunt, his shoulders bobbing up and down.

He was… laughing? Beauregard relaxed and allowed himself a cautious smile. Reynauld shook his head and covered his eyes, little hints of teeth peeking out between his bristly beard. He inhaled sharply, then broke out into full laughter, leaning his head back. It bounced off the walls, low and hearty, but cracked around the edges, as though his throat was unused to making the sound.

Beauregard chuckled along, equal parts relieved to have avoided being chastised and delighted by this new side of Reynauld.

“It’s an unorthodox form of worship,” Reynauld said, still grinning, “but better than nothing.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your prayer. I just… I heard someone coming and I… panicked.”

“All is forgiven.”

“I’ll… um... leave you to it.”

“Are you headed back to the barracks?”

Beauregard nodded.

“I’ll accompany you. My heart no longer feels so heavy. Contrition can wait until the morning.”

As they left the abbey together, Beauregard turned over the statue in his mind. What an odd coincidence. Had Dismas’s parents named him after the saint on purpose? Who would name their child after a mutilated man who oversaw thieves?

“Reynauld?”

“Hm?”

“Who was Saint Dismas?” he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. The cold air nipped at his cheeks.

“Oh, that’s quite a story,” Reynauld replied. “One best told in front of a roaring fire, I think.”

—

Vvulf - Take You Back (The Iron Hoof) by Orville Peck

uh oh it’s self-indulgent modern au time 😳

I've been around this world and now everything's a bore

I don't know that much, but I know about keeping score

And if there's one thing I know for sure

It'd be a long cold day in Hell when I take you back

“I knew you’d come crawlin’ back.” Vvulf blew smoke out through his nostrils. It formed a hazy wreath around his face. He leaned back in the ratty chair. “Sure as the sun rises…”

Dismas was sweating. And not just because he was stuck in the cramped, windowless backroom of a bar, in the dead of a sticky summer night, with a man nearly twice his size. It was one thing practicing his speech in front of a warped motel mirror, it was another thing entirely to face the real thing. He sucked in stale air between his teeth.

“I’m not crawlin’.” Desperate for something to do with his hands, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket. He flicked it open and pushed one between his lips.

Vvulf smiled, cool and thin. Dismas repressed a shiver.

“Bit late for pride, ain’t it?”

Dismas lit his cigarette with trembling hands. He puffed on it slow to get it going. He sucked down a burning lungful, held it, then blew it out of the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t have to come here, y’know.” A lie. He wouldn’t be here if he had any other choice. “I’m doin’ this as a favor to you.”

“A favor to me?” All traces of humor left his face. “You got a lotta nerve showing your face around here and talkin’ like that, boy.”

Boy. Dismas bit back a snicker. He was pushing forty.

Dismas shrugged. “If you don’t wanna hear what I got to say, fine. It’s your damn funeral.”

“What do you want?” Vvulf tapped ash off the end of his cigarette.

“You could stop puttin’ hits out on me. That’d be a start.”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about...”

Dismas raised his eyebrows.

“...but I’ll see what I can do.”

Dismas nodded. Alright. He might actually swing this.

“That all?”

Here we go.

“I want protection,” he said plainly. Beating around the bush would just make Vvulf angry, and even less likely to grant his request. “He’s after me, too.”

Vvulf stared at him. Then he laughed. Harsh and mocking and gravelly. Like hail drumming against a tin roof. Sweat trickled down Dismas’s back.

“Don’t act like I ain’t ever put my neck out for you,” Dismas said, raising his voice to be heard over Vvulf’s laughter. “I’m just askin’ to borrow a safehouse for a couple weeks, until all this blows over, that’s it.”

“You got some serious balls on you, boy, I’ll give you that.” Vvulf took a hard drag off of his cigarette. He spewed the smoke at Dismas. “You dumb son of a bitch. What makes you think you’re leavin’ here alive at all?”

Dismas’s gut hardened. This had been a mistake. But what other choice had he had? It was either this or give up the ghost and turn himself in at the nearest police station. Anything was better than getting collared by the Widowmaker. He eyed the door over Vvulf’s shoulder. His gun weighed heavy at his hip.

“Now, here’s how I see this playin’ out.” Vvulf batted aside his denim vest, exposing a holstered pistol. “You can either tell me everything you know right now, and I’ll end things quick, or I could take you out back to the shed and get you nice and acquainted with a car battery, and then you tell me everything you know. Right before I gut you like a pig.”

“You know… Neither of those options are all that appealin’ to me.” Dismas shifted in his seat. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken Vvulf head-on in a fight. In a tight space like this, though, he didn’t like his chances.

“I had a feelin’ you’d say that. Which is why, as an acknowledgment of our long history together, I’ll open up a third option.” He grinned. “Just for you.”

Dismas clenched his jaw. He should’ve expected something like this…

“On one condition.” Vvulf stubbed his cigarette out on the sole of his boot. “You gotta beg for it.”

“Go to hell.

“After you.”

#wyrdposting #writing #please god let the readmore work correctly #darkest dungeon

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wireless-art · 4 years

Photo

For the @gerrymichael-bigbang event.

(Click for best quality, this pic is big).

Adjacent to Human by @prentissed

It’s Michael who gets the idea, when they happen to pass by an old, inexplicably terrifying dentist advertisement on the road.

It stretches across a faded billboard, lone in the stretches of desert that surround them, featuring a gargantuan set of grinning teeth being poked and prodded by metal tools. Text overlaid above reads, ‘Every tooth has its end. Eckleburg & Co.’

“Oh, look at that,” says Michael, like he’s just seen a particularly cute cat picture. “I can’t remember the last time an actual doctor examined me.” He sighs. “I wonder how many teeth I have now.”

Gerry looks up briefly from the magazine he’d been peeling through to circle job offers. “Huh.” He wonders why an advertisement would deliberately make itself so existentially horrifying. “Well, I dunno, we could always take an x-ray of you or something. That’s not impossible, right?”

Michael makes an excited noise that briefly removes all sound from Gerry’s right ear. “It might be!”

So that’s how they get the idea to quote-unquote ‘borrow’ some medical equipment. It’s more simple than Gerry thinks it’ll be. Michael just pops them in and out of an empty lab and they take the x-rays before anyone notices. (And for the record, they aren’t careless. Gerry has a fair bit of medical knowledge, in fact, left over from the long-forgotten years when he’d been studying for a doctorate. He’d had dreams once.)

As Michael lies back on the examination table, twiddling his thumbs, Gerry asks, “Why’re you interested in this kind of thing, anyway? I thought you didn’t like having… knowledge about yourself.”

“I don’t,” he lilts, “but sometimes I get curious, you know? Anyone would. No one in the world knows how I work. Not even me.” One of his hands waves fingers just a touch too long. “Besides, there’s no guarantee this will even give that information. Or maybe it’ll be knowledge man wasn’t meant to know.”

“I see,” Gerry says flatly, starting up the machine. “Hold still for a sec.”

After all x-rays have been scanned (and equipment hastily abandoned at the startled screams of returning doctors) Gerry sits with Michael on the couch back in their apartment, rifling through the pictures they managed to snag.

Truth be told, he can’t help but be curious too. Whatever Michael’s insides look like, they definitely count as some sort of once-in-a-century medical anomaly… and maybe, maybe it bothers Gerry a bit that he doesn’t know what’s going on in there either. Don’t judge him. It’s his fucking boyfriend.

“Where do you wanna start?”

Michael hums from where his head is pillowed on Gerry’s lap. “In the spirit of Eckleburg, how about teeth?”

“I hope you’ve been flossing,” Gerry mutters.

The average person has 32 teeth, including incisors, canines, molars, and premolars. Michael has upwards of two hundred and forty-seven. No discernable categories between any— some are almost normal-looking, some are ingrown and nubby, others sharp as blades and spiraling out in jagged hooks, occasionally doubled up like emerging baby teeth. They’re jammed into the vague space where the mouth cavity should be.

“I hope it isn’t a turnoff.” Michael grins. In the flesh, he doesn’t have nearly that many. Well, sure, it’s more toothy than any human-adjacent thing has any right to be, but 247? Gerry counts and recounts. The number remains surprisingly consistent.

“No, no. You’re fine.” It’d be pretty hypocritical if Gerry went around judging someone for the state of their dental. He’s gotten a few knocked out himself— there are some gaps he’s never filling back in.

Besides, Gerry’s long since gotten used to Michael’s smiles. Even if he agrees with the general consensus that they look like “puncture wounds with molars”, they’re all part of Michael’s distinctly unnerving charm. He’s gotten used to a lot these past years.

“Okay, okay, what about the rest of my skull?” Michael claps his hands like a kid about to go on a roller coaster. “I wonder if I still have one.”

“You do,” Gerry confirms. “It’d be pretty wild if you didn’t and still had the capacity to carry teeth.” He squints as he pores over the pictures. “No eye holes, though. And you have a few more nose cavities than usual.”

“Of course, of course.”

Every human has 24 coupled ribs (12 pairs total). Michael appears to have missed the memo, because the x-ray of his torso displays something so distended and crooked it barely looks like a real extension of a creature’s anatomy.

Gerry loses count after around 20 and he’s not even halfway down the left side. Looks asymmetrical too.

Again, when he glances over at Michael’s torso, it really doesn’t look like all that twisted bone is in him. When one gets to know Michael (as much as that’s possible) it’s actually the normalcy of his appearance that becomes weird after a while. It’s easy to forget Michael doesn’t look monstrous to 90% of the general population.

But in a way it’s kind of nice too. When Michael sheds that skin around him, Gerry’s getting a look at something more real— not real, probably not even comprehensible, but truer.

“Let’s take a look at those hands…” Gerry flips the next picture over, does a triple take, and scoffs. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“What? What?”

“These look normal.” Eight carpals, five metacarpals, fourteen phalanges; all lined up neatly in little rows. No unusual curves or even crookedness in the joints. It’s a perfectly ordinary, human-presenting hand.

Michael seems to find this one particularly amusing. He muffles his laughter into his fist, which Gerry glares annoyedly at— like a camera fading in and out of focus, it goes from regular to the inhumanly distended appendage he knows it is. Most people are lucky (or rather, profoundly unlucky) to get even a glimpse. Gerry suspects maybe it’s because he’s spent so much time around Michael; still, the cognitive dissonance gnaws at his brain the longer he looks at it. He doesn’t like his eyes lying to him.

As if to placate him, Michael reaches out and touches his wrist. Now this is a feeling Gerry really knows— something much larger than a hand, heavy, alternately soft and sharp, settling like a sack of stones into his grasp. The skin rasps against his. The texture is more akin to that of a sandbag. Now, that’s something uniquely Michael. It’s an oddity that has become a signature of their shared life between each other.

“Now come on,” Michael croons up to him, not unkindly. “You knew an X-ray couldn’t reveal everything, right? I have my secrets to keep after all.”

“Yeah. But I wanted to see you,” Gerry pouts, letting his face be held between too-large, too-scratchy, too-long hands. He runs his own fingers over one of them absentmindedly and Michael sighs. “Sometimes it just frustrates me that I can’t know you better.”

“There are things that you, nor humanity, aren’t meant to see. Besides,” he adds, nuzzling closer, “wouldn’t you say that knowing someone isn’t the same as understanding their anatomy? I could study textbook upon textbook and still never really grasp why you humans are the way you are.”

“Don’t get started on that,” Gerry rolls his eyes.

Michael gets insistently coy about these things, leveling little jabs implying humanity is some alien race to him when Gerry knows damn well he didn’t always used to be this way. He lets Michael have this because bringing it up tends to make him upset, and Gerry’s content letting him be a bit of a shithead if it makes him comfortable.

Still, though. Sometimes he’d like to ask what exactly’s so bad about being human. Maybe it’s perspective— there was never a time when Gerry wasn’t human, so how could he make that call?

“You know me well enough,” Michael says, smiling up at him softly with those wretched teeth. He takes one of Gerry’s wrists, one of his scarred and tattooed and utterly ordinary human limbs, and kisses his pulse point. “Be sated with this, darling. Don’t be like one of those Beholding folk, hungering for knowledge you can’t have.”

“But sometimes I like knowing things.” Gerry combs his free hand through Michael’s hair. It’s stiff and sharp at the edges, with the faint smell of straw. “Did you know there are over 7,000 nerve endings in the hand alone? Our fingers contain some of the densest areas of those endings in the body.” He watches Michael’s eyes slide shut. “Say what you will about us, but human beings have amazingly complex bodies. Like. It’s a wonder we’re here at all, with how easy it is for them to malfunction— and you have all that, compiled with the fact that it’s a statistical improbability for us to exist at all in the first place.”

He brushes his fingers over Michael’s cheek. “It’s terrifying being alive. The fact that we are alive is pretty astounding, though. That knowledge keeps me going sometimes.”

Michael has such a worn face. So close to human. Almost adjacent.

He sighs in Gerry’s lap. “Hm.” A pause. Then: “Gerry?”

“Yeah?”

“All that being said…” It’s not that Michael’s voice wavers, exactly, but the usual smile isn’t present in it. “Is there any part of this you would like to change if you could, then?”

“Nah,” Gerry decides, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “It’s all part of your charm.”

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