#i just feel so genuinely uncomfortable like someone's about to do a 'gotcha!' moment on me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

giggleeclown · 2 years

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Laughust day 11: Magic Trick

(Disclaimer! The other clown in this fic is Bigtop’s mentor, Macintosh! He is not Bigtop’s father, but acts like a father figure to him! Any implication that they are father and son in this fanfiction isn’t familial by biological standards! Also… I know this fanfiction centers on foot tickling. Obviously this is all sfw. No fetish implied!)

The old ‘saw your partner in half’ trick is a famous classic. As much as you know about the old trick, there’s still a little anticipation when it comes to someone being seemingly split down the middle.

That’s why Bigtop was determined to learn how to perfect the trick. Excited to pull it off, Bigtop asked his mentor, Macintosh, for help with the trick. Macintosh, unfortunately, was not so eager. Despite being a toon and not being able to get too terribly hurt without bouncing back, it was in his nature to be scared. Even so, Mac didn’t want to restrict Bigtop’s performance skills. He was just as eager when he was his age. Reluctantly, the veteran clown anxiously got into the magic box.

“Hmmm… now let’s see here.” Bigtop whistled, grabbing the magic book and beginning to flip pages. Finally, he came to the page with the instructions on sawing. “PUR-FECTION!” Bigtop cheered, spotting the page. “Okay, step oneee…”

Suddenly, Bigtop heard a quick clicking noise. He looked down to see his mentor, looking anxious and chattering his teeth. “Oh, Mac,” Bigtop frowned. “I sure am sorry, I never wanted tah scare ya!”

Macintosh frowned more. “No, no, sport, I’m sorry. I wanted to teach ya everything everything you needed to know about performing. I shouldn’t be scared of this old trick.”

Bigtop went silent for a moment. He felt very guilty as Macintosh uncomfortably wiggled in his restraints, but he knew that Mac wanted to go through with it. Suddenly, Bigtop grinned, as his father figure’s bare feet were sticking out the end of the box. Mac had been barefoot ever since he became a clown. Having large and clownish feet regardless, he had always felt they were fitting for his look. When he was asked to have his most sensitive spot exposed when he joined the circus, (that being his feet,) he was even more enthused. Which is why Bigtop was carefully eyeing the spot in question, smirking playfully.

“Y’know, Mac, there’s only one thing you should be scared of right now.”

“H-huh?”

With a swift movement, Bigtop sneakily glided his finger down the sole of his mentor’s left foot. He yelped out in surprise, feeling his face become hot.

“N-now, son, there’s no need for tha-hA-HAHAHAT!”

There was no need for hesitation in Bigtop’s mind. He playfully teased Macintosh’s heels, switching up the sensation by tickling the top of his feet.

“Aww, kitchy kitchy! Yer just the silliest clown in the whole circus, ain’tcha? I got ya! I got ya!” He giggled.

“N-NONONOHOHO! CUT THAHAT OUT KIDDOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAH!”

“Aww, sorry, Maccie! No can do! It ain’t all the time when I’ve gotcha all restrained like this. Ya AAALWAYS have to win these fights, and I’m finally doin somethin’ about it!” The grin that Bigtop grinned was genuine and sweet despite the mischief hinted in it. He grinned even harder when he heard the honk emit from Mac the moment he pinched his toes.

“P-PLEHEHE- AHAHA! KIDDO, STAHAHA!” Poor Macintosh couldn’t do anything more than wiggle in his restraints. Bigtop knew that the old master was good, but he did have his limits when it was unexpected.

“Ohh, all right, old man. You got off easy this time!” Without warning, Bigtop clawed and scribbled his fingers all over Mac’s feet. Mac threw his head back, lost in his own laughter; nevertheless, just as quickly as he had begun to laugh did the latch to the magic box pop open.

“Y..yeheheh… uhm, kiddo, didn’t you want me to, uhm, practice with ya?”

“Are you kiddin’, old timer? I’d never make ya scared on purpose, or make ya go through somethin’ ya don’t really want tah. No good comes from all that!” He smiled, this time gently, patting his mentor on the shoulder. What he didn’t expect was for Mac to pull him into a hug.

“You sure are somethin’, champ.” Mac chuckled, feeling Bigtop melt into the hug. Bigtop rolled his eyes endearingly.

“Where do ya think I got it from?”

#tickling #ticklish #t content #t word community #t word #bigtop the clown #ler!bigtop #lee!macintosh #the primary circus

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ah0rmone · 3 years

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dazai osamu x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, minors, dni! dubcon if you squint because the reader finds dazai annoying but attractive, non-consensual touching (at first), enemies/rivals to fuck buddies I guess?, fingering, vaginal penetration.

there are literally two self-defence techniques from here and here

"Why it has to be you?" you grumbled looking at the person who stood in front of you.

"Oh, who else would you like to see as your teacher? Kunikida-kun who's doing everything according to instructions, even fighting? Ranpo-kun who won't lift a finger unless it's a murder case? Or Tanizaki-kun who's always followed by Naomi-chan?"

The obnoxious man in front of you was called Osamu Dazai and, to be fair, you'd actually prefer any other agency member over him. Sure, he definitely had combat experience and, probably, wasn't that bad at teaching, given that Atsushi was still following him. But something about him was off and you didn't like it. Nor that you had any choice, Dazai was there for a reason and that reason was Fukuzawa's order.

"Whatever," you sighed. "Can we get to it already?"

Today was the day when you were supposed to learn some self-defence techniques. Your ability wasn't really of a combat type, so you never participated in fights but it didn't mean that you had a zero possibility of running into problems. It was your own request to be taught how to protect yourself.

However, you didn't feel quite confident at all. You genuinely hated conflicts and tended to avoid people, so all of this was a somewhat essential but still itchy experience. Your sporty shorts and a skintight top wasn't helping the situation either. Especially, since a person with who you were going to get quite close physically was a rather attractive young man. You and Dazai weren't that close, just colleagues who barely communicated. For you he was just as attractive as he was annoying - you wouldn't mind having a fling with him but nothing more. Maybe it was the way he carried himself: overly cheerful, loud and noisy. Or maybe it was the things he was hiding: his true mischievous, manipulative personality.

Taking a deep breath you reminded yourself that it was your idea, something that your survival depended on and that you just had to get over it.

"Usually you're not the one who fights, y/n-chan. So what are we doing here?" Dazai asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

His eyes were gleaming with a vicious sparkle. Your power imbalance was uncomfortable to you. You shrugged, the feeling that he was a big cat and you were his meal strongly sat in your guts.

"I'm here to learn how to defend myself. Like some easy techniques. I'm not very strong, keep it in mind," you reminded with a well-controlled flat voice but some notes of irritation would have been apparent even to the densest person.

Osamu didn't answer, instead, he let his fake smile turn into a smirk. For a moment the room fell into silence and you could swear that your heart was beating too loud. Both of you just stared at each other for some seconds until the smile returned on Dazai's lips and the man joyfully clapped.

"Okay, gotcha! First of all," he took a step closer. "The most important thing in fighting is a stable stance. Stand like this," he put the left leg forward and motioned you to follow him.

Hesitantly you mirrored his stance, the feeling of embarrassment washing over you. It wasn't even the physical activity that you hated but the way Dazai was gazing at you. Predatory eyes were gliding over your skin like he was analysing your tiniest movements. Like he was about to pounce.

Just as you anticipated, once you've finished copying him, Osamu clicked his tongue and stood up.

"No, y/n-chan, you're doing it wrong."

You were about to argue but Dazai was already behind you. Suddenly painfully aware of the warmth of his body you tried to move from him but he was quick to put a hand on your hip.

"Let me help you," his hot breath ran over the shell of your ear making you flinch a little.

While you were contemplating whether you should allow him to be that close, Dazai had already brushed his palm down your leg. Now he was standing next to you, your bodies touching.

"There," he encouraged, moving your leg a little further by the back of your knee. His other hand was still placed on your hip and such a position was taking away any personal space you had before.

"Thanks," you muttered, feeling the light smell of his cologne.

"Now you're standing rather steady, aren't you?" he beamed with his hand still on your leg.

"Ah, yeah," you muttered, grabbing him by the wrist and pushing it off yourself then taking a step back. "Guess, we can move to the actual stuff now."

"Y/n-chan!" Dazai exclaimed. "The stance is very important, I didn't show it for fun!"

You saw the man's lips curl into a pout but either than that he didn't display any sign of irritation by you pushing him away. Keeping that in mind you decided that even though he might not have any ill intentions you should stay on guard.

Something dropped behind the door and as you inverted your gaze to the sound you felt your hair being grabbed.

"What," you didn't even have the chance to end the question instantly being pushed to the wall.

Your colleague's right hand was holding firmly your hair, the other one gripping your waist. You tried to push back, but to no avail - his whole body was pushing you to the wall.

"Dazai," you growled.

"Too bad, y/n-chan," he cooed. "How can you protect yourself when you have such a short attention span? Look at you - one move and you're helpless."

The sting of resentment piercing through your heart encouraged you to grumble through the teeth:

"I told you I'm weak."

"And stupid apparently," he gibbed.

"Listen," you tried to free yourself but instead just shook your hips clumsily. "If you came here just to insult me, let's end it, I'll ask Fukuzawa-san to send someone else," voice full with venom, you wanted to be as far from Dazai as possible but instead felt with dread as your hips bucked into his. You jolted forward fighting for the tiniest bit of space.

If Dazai noticed, he didn't show it as there was no reaction whatsoever. However, your little touch wasn't the only thing he ignored:

"Let me instead show you how to deflect it," he proposed, paying no heed to your words.

He backed up and you got a chance to glance at him with unhidden irritation. He met your gaze with a cheesy smile like he wasn't a person degrading you a couple of seconds ago. However, giving it a little bit more thought you exhaled and nodded. After all, you should've picked up something from this lesson, not just the revelation that Dazai was a total dick and you wouldn't want him to be near you ever again.

You moved from the wall and this time he gripped your hair slowly.

"What you want to do now is to grab my hand by both of yours, then stand back to the stance I showed you earlier, turn underneath the arm, so that you twist it and when the person lets go, just bolt. Got it?"

You hummed in acknowledgement. Perhaps it wasn't that difficult. Perhaps, at the end of the day, the lesson would be fruitful.

"Try it then," he prompted and then tugged at your hair lightly.

Following his instructions, you grabbed his hand and as you were about to go underneath his arm, he spun you. His arm was firmly holding your throat.

"No, y/n-chan, I've told you your stance was wrong," he whined. "Let me show you again."

"What just happened?" you asked confusedly but he already was spreading your legs.

Osamu didn't answer, too busy putting you in the right stance. And you tried your best to concentrate on how your legs were placed instead of his fingers brushing over your ass a couple of times, once getting a little bit too close to your clothed vagina.

"Just like this," he said and his hand slid up from your knee to your waist getting under the top a little.

From your point of view, the skinship was completely irrelevant but you decided to keep your sharky comments to yourself. For now, you were going to follow his instructions and maybe you could avoid the conflict.

Maybe not.

This time around when you were trying to deflect his arm, once again he outpowered you. You cursed as he said with disappointment in his voice (you were pretty sure it was the fake one, he was enjoying it, that bastard):

"You're too slow, y/n-chan. Do you think attackers would just stand there and watch as you crawl your way out of their grip as a turtle in slow-mo?"

"Dazai, I'd appreciate it if you-"

"Again," he cut you harshly, puppeting you around like you were nothing but a doll.

His attitude towards you was so demoralizing you were fighting the urge to end it here and there. Losing all the motivation and looking exhausted, you tried to go through the motion again but Dazai wasn't having it.

"Hm, y/n-chan, kinda feels like you're not trying hard enough. Should I give you a motivation boost?" he exclaimed cheerfully but before you could say that he should go fuck himself he had already pushed you to the wall. Again.

You were expecting harsh words pouring from his mouth, but instead, it was the kisses as he roughly pulled your hair baring your neck for him. The hot tongue travelled from your shoulder to the globe of your ear, prompting you to jolt. Once again you attempted to push him away but could barely move. His left hand was pinning your wrist and his right one was painfully tagging at your hair, cranking your head to the side.

"Dazai," you wanted to let him know that you understood his intentions but he needed to stop when a not so gentle bite quickly shut you up.

He was licking and nipping leaving hickeys at your poor neck. You were squirming and whirling under his touch not giving up yet, so he thrust his hips into yours. There was no way you could keep any sounds in, so a whiny moan escaped your lips. You felt Dazai stopping, a satisfied smirk on his lips, then without saying a word, he continued torturing your sensitive neck. Two things were clear to you: a strong lust was taking over your body which meant that you were slowly losing yourself and that Dazai had just started playing with you, there were more to come.

Dazai. Dazai! Realising who was the man behind you, you tried to gain back control. Osamu was just being a bully, whywere you letting him see you in such a state? He certainly didn't deserve nor your moans, nor your hips grinding his.

You were thinking this but it took everything in you to not just give in to his touch. While you were having an internal battle, Dazai pulled away with a loud pop.

"Five."

"Five what?" you mewled weakly.

"There are five hickeys on your neck," Dazai murmured. "You look so good, all red and moaning. When you can't even do anything. You've been definitely enjoying it, sure you still want to continue learning self-defence techniques?"

You widened your eyes at his words.

"Excuse me?!" you exploded. "What the hell are you implying?!"

With all force, you shoved him in the side with an elbow. Dazai hissed and even though the attack was fairly weak he let go.

"I mean, no kink-shaming," he put hands in the air surrendering.

"What's your problem?!"

It was hard for you to overcome your desire of slapping him but no way in hell you were staying in one room with him for another second. You bolted but Dazai was quicker, catching your hand.

"Where're you going? For a moment there I thought you didn't agree and wanted to continue," he quipped. "Come on, that was just one technique."

"Dazai, let me go," you growled yanking your hand free. "I've had enough of you today, I'm leaving."

You had already turned to leave when he pulled you to the ground. You snorted in frustration, your legs fiercely kicking but the lack of strategy played against you and there you were - trapped under him. Osamu was sitting between your legs with his arms pinning yours to the ground.

You felt unbearably hot and weak, your cunt throbbing against his groin. His face was hanging right above yours, so close you could feel his breath. Unintentionally your eyes focused on his lips then you looked up. Only now you noticed how lustful his gaze was. He clearly was a winner today and he was about to enjoy his prize. As you licked your lips, your recognised your mistake - now your eagerness was more than obvious.

"I'm just parched," you faltered but it sounded pathetic even to you.

"I'm sure you are," Osamu whispered, sitting back. "One more technique and I'll let you go." His fingers gripped your thighs.

Since his weight was off you now, you felt kind of cold. Not knowing where to place your arms, you were about to put them next to your sides when Dazai commanded you to keep them still.

That position was too sexy for your liking - arms are placed next to your head, legs spread. All of it without his control felt like you were offering yourself to him. Like you were submitting. The man was clearly savouring it because his gaze was so intense, in the end, you even had to avert yours.

Dazai clearly didn't like it, tapping your left thigh:

"Look at me, y/n-chan, how else are you supposed to learn?"

You slowly turned back, embarrassed as your eyes darted all over him until they abruptly stopped at his crotch. There was a visible boner in his pants. When Osamu followed your gaze and loudly chuckled you felt your cheeks grow hot and desire growing stronger.

"Concentrate, y/n-chan," Dazai said amusingly but the only thing you could concentrate on was the wetness between your legs. You feared it might start to be visible through your shorts.

"Look, if someone got you into this position," Osamu continued like both of you didn't want the same thing and that thing was to fuck. "You have to keep your arms straight and put them on your shoulders, like this," he gently took your hands and placed them as he instructed. "Then you should put your leg on my hip," he tried to do it for you once again but your leg was wobbly. All the strength you had was wasted on keeping your arms straight.

Dazai sighed theatrically but he couldn't keep a vicious sparkle in his eyes.

"Y/n-chan," he whinged. "You're such a bad student. Weak. Stupid," his fingers were slowly stroking your thigh. "Having a short attention span. Don't you think that you should have concentrated on learning some stuff instead of thinking about my cock?" With this question his arm groped your ass, pulling you closer.

He gripped your hips and you let out a moan. Now you weren't trying to hold back. You were already a loser, might as well enjoy it. Being a tease he was, Dazai wasn't ready to give you everything right then and there but you were having none of it. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer by his collarbone. Osamu certainly wasn't ready for such a force so he confusingly complied.

"Call me stupid one more time and I'm leaving," you warned him, a confident smirk playing on your lips.

Dazai's face quickly changed from surprised to a perverse one. He dropped down on you, pinning you with his whole body and slammed his hips into yours. As you moaned he caressed your face, lovingly brushing your hair, and then whispered:

"I'm gonna break you, pretty doll."

With one swift motion, he put your wrists in one hand pinning it above your head, his tongue running over your lips then dragging you into a deep kiss. As you two were hungrily kissing each other you felt his fingers crawling under your waistband. You jolted, an instinct of placing your hand over his acting up but he was still holding you firmly. He ran one finger over your cunt but you were already shaking, silently begging for more.

"Dazai," you moaned desperately asking him to get down to business.

"You're so wet, y/n-chan," he licked your earlobe making you writhe. "I wish I teased you a little bit more," he started to kiss your jaw getting lower and lower. "I said that I'd break you but it seems you're already at your limit," he chortled, helping you to take your top and bra off.

"You look so beautiful," he murmured once you were almost fully naked in front of him.

Suddenly his gaze turned soft and you felt even more aroused than you before. Gladly the man wasn't planning on wasting any time as he started to lick, nip and bite one of your nipples, playing with his fingers with another. Moaning lewdly and rutting your hips you put your hand into his hair, curling soft strands in your fingers.

When he finished playing with your tits, he wanted to go further down, to place kisses on your lower stomach, but you decided to get back at him. Placing your straight hands on his shoulders, you put a leg on his thigh just as he instructed and squirmed out of his grip.

"You talk about me but look at yourself," you shoved a knee between his thighs, pushing it at his boner. "You were hard even before I started to feel something else besides irritation."

Now it was Osamu whose breath hitched. You were savouring your little win when he looked back at you with a dangerous grin. That was when you realised you fucked up. He quickly grabbed your leg and turned you over on the stomach. Laying down on you, he harshly seized your hair and hissed:

"A+ for learning the technique, but your attitude towards you teacher," he took off your shorts with pants nearly ripping them. "Needs some correction."

That was when the sound of a loud slap broke the silence of the room. You jolted, a gasp leaving your lips. You tried to crawl from him but his grip on your hair was strong.

"Come on, y/n-chan, it was just one slap. Don't you think you deserve it?" The hand that hit you was stroking your bruised ass cheek.

"It fucking hurt," you spit.

"Was it?" Dazai chuckled. "Say that you're sorry."

"For what?" you raged but another hit was your answer.

"Dazai, stop," you sobbed.

"Wrong," he retorted slapping your ass again. "Plus, if you don't like it why are you leaking so much?"

You embarrassingly bit a lip at his remark.

"A little bit of masochistic, are you?" Dazai noted. "Well, if you insist, I can keep on going."

You knew that both of you were barely holding it, so you decided to submit. Just this once.

"I'm sorry!" You squealed after another hit.

"Good girl," Osamu placed a soft kiss on your back still not letting go of your hair. "Now it's time for a treat."

And with that, he finally pushed the first finger into you. Since you were so wet there was a little pool under you, Dazai successfully pushed another finger shortly after. You quivered and jerked your hips begging him to move. This time around your colleague decided not to tease you.

As his fingers were pumping in and out of you, you were trying to push your head down to steady yourself but Dazai didn't let go. You were completely at his will.

"'m close," you mewled, your eyes rolling back.

Dazai hummed in acknowledgement and withdrew his hand. You groaned offendedly but heard the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped and then felt something else rubbing at your entrance.

Finally, Osamu positioned himself behind you and pushed inside, your pussy stretching obediently. The fullness made you gasp pervertedly. As he started moving your mind went completely blank. The only thing that existed for you at that moment was Dazai and his cock inside of you. He let go of your hair, one hand now was holding your hips and another one was giving attention to your clit.

You had no idea how he was still holding on but once your sensitive bud got stimulated you quickly come undone.

"Once more," Dazai panted while moving and playing with your clit simultaneously.

Even though you were tired, you had actually felt desire growing again. Osamu was just way too good for you to resist. You thought that the only thing he was chasing was his high, but he didn't cum until you orgasmed again denying himself every time he got too close. That's why when you cummed for the second time you did it toghether.

He rolled off you, but you couldn't move even a finger, for a moment you've gone completely numb. Your chest was going up and down with heavy breaths, your heart was racing. None of you spoke because you didn't know what to talk about. Especially, since you, personally, felt way too embarrassed to admit that you had just cummed two times because of an annoying Dazai Osamu.

"Looks like we ended in time!" Dazai chirped after some time and you looked at the clock realising that you spent here one hour. Just like it was promised.

"Wish I had actually learned something though," you remarked lazily, trying to pull on your shorts back. You just had to make it to the shower room and then wear your casual clothes. However, your pants were completely ruined.

"Well, if you think that you need another one, just let me know," you looked back at Dazai and his smirk told you that he wasn't meaning the self-defence lessons. You felt your cheeks grow hot again.

"Yeah, sure," you muttered, awkwardly leaving the training room.

From now on you intended on avoiding Dazai whenever it's possible.

Little did you know he had other plans.

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #tw // dubcon

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staysaneathome · 3 years

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This Was Not A Dare, Reigen

Jon glares at each of the— the suspects traitors in front of him, tape recorder clutched tight in one hand.

Martin, wringing his hands uselessly, eyes wide and beseeching. Tim, fists clenched hard enough for his knuckles to go white and returning his gaze with a death stare of his own. Sasha, arms folded to form a barrier between Jon and herself, expression a perfect mask of concern. Reigen, radiating disappointment in every one of his gestures and quips. Elias, eyes weary, fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Some intervention this is turning out to be.

Jon wants to scream. Wants to reach out and shake someone, anyone, until they admit he’s making sense and it’s the rest of the world that’s gone mad.

Every single one of them (except Martin) could’ve killed Gertrude. He knows he has no proof that they did, but he has no proof that they didn’t either, can’t they see that? If they don’t want him to suspect them, it should be easy for them to actually give him proof of their innocence (like Martin did), instead of just repeating platitudes of “you know this isn’t acceptable adult behavior, Jon” and “you’re better than this, Jon”.

Who cares about knowing better or acceptable behavior when it’s your very life on the line? He’s half tempted to throttle the con artist, see how dignified or adult he is when he’s the one with a murderer on his tail!

…Not that Jon is a murderer. It’s just the principle of the thing, is all.

“Jon,” Elias says, tone soothing in all the ways he doesn’t want it to be. “This is absurd. This goes far beyond an unhealthy work environment. I’ll admit it’s partly my fault for letting it get this bad, I should have intervened earlier.”

Reigen cuts in with a hand gesture that is as effusive as it is dismissive. “That doesn’t make his behavior okay, Bouchard-san. It may be bad here, but Jon chose to follow me, Tim and Sasha, and yell at Martin, rather than going to the police or paying a detective, like Herlock Sholmes or something.”

Jon sputters. “Wh- It’s Sherlock Holmes, not—and he’s fictional!”

Reigen blinks sleepily, one eyebrow raised. “Oh? That doesn’t sound right. Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Jon all but shouts, rapidly reconsidering his stance on braining the sardonic little git with his tape recorder. “Don’t you even—an-and you’re deflecting again! Just like with your ridiculous ‘haunted gun’ nonsense!”

“I’m not!” Reigen says, clearly deflecting. “I’ve seen this kind of thing loads of times as the number one psychic. When a weapon kills lots of people over 100 years, the bad energy gets bigger and bigger until the gun grows an evil spirit and is hungry—”

“I refuse to believe Gertrude Robinson was murdered by a sentient blunderbuss!!”

“Be that as it may,” Elias interrupts, shooting them both a stern frown. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about, Jon. Given how badly it’s affected your work ethic, I will be taking direct action to ensure it does not continue.”

Jon can feel his shoulders hunch almost against his will, dread pooling in his stomach at the thought of whatever punishment is about to be unjustly inflicted on him.

Only Martin looks half as worried as he feels, glancing between him and Elias nervously. By contrast, Tim looks downright triumphant, smirk nasty and vindictive. Sasha’s somewhere between those two, not openly celebrating his soon-to-be-downfall, but not acting like she’d lift a finger on his behalf either, though he’s unsure why that feels like it should surprise him. She’s always been as neutral as Switzerland.

Reigen, oddly enough, has more in common with Martin than with Tim. He’s staring at Elias like he’s waiting for a bit of news he knows he won’t like.

Jon thinks he’d appreciate that more if he wasn’t about to be unfairly lambasted simply for trying to stop a murderer and bring justice for an old woman who probably died frightened and alone. Much like Jon probably will once he’s been hobbled by whatever Elias is about to say next.

“Such as by restricting access to the archives from members of the public who are ultimately doing you more harm than good.”

…Wait.

What?

“What?!” Tim, Martin, and Sasha echo.

Reigen glances between them all, blinking in confusion.

Jon shares the sentiment entirely. His punishment is…for someone else to be removed from the archives? Someone he doesn’t employ or even like that much, no less?

He must have misheard, surely.

Though maybe not, given how Tim looks aghast, glancing between Elias and Reigen. “Okay, no, Reigen’s clearly not the problem here—”

“I’m very sorry, Tim, but Jon has made several remarks about the disruptive nature of Mr. Arataka’s presence in the archives.” Elias sighs. “From the arguments like the one we just witnessed to the nonsensical purchases of oddities inspired by his presence, such as Duolingo subscriptions,” Meaningful glare at Jon who resists the urge to clutch his phone guiltily, “That are now billed on the Archives’ expenses, it unfortunately seems as though he is dragging down productivity for all of you as an active stressor.”

“But we’re much better equipped to take statements from people who don’t speak English because of that!” Martin protests, stepping forward. “Isn’t it an advantage to have a more, more international perspective for our work?”

“One positive in a sea of negatives does not an advantage make.” Elias says, sounding infuriatingly like he’s misquoting something. “And really Martin, how realistic is it that this would help in more than a few isolated cases? I expected better from you.”

Martin’s face crumples, and his shoulders hunch, making himself smaller.

Jon finds his own mouth opening to—what? Say something? What would he even say?

Luckily, Sasha intervenes before he can dig his own grave further. “That’s as may be, but he’s a wonder for morale. He and Jon are funny, not anything serious, and I don’t think we’d have come to you about Jon‘s behavior unless he encouraged us to—”

“Which only fits into the delusion where Jon feels an outsider is rallying his subordinates against him, which is not good for his paranoid outlook.” Elias replies calmly. “And it’s never a healthy work environment when one employee feels the others are making them the butt of a joke.”

“I’d say that’s not as bad as when the boss feels he has the right to violate everyone’s privacy whenever he wants to just ’cause he’s feeling sad!” Tim growls.

Elias begins to answer, before Reigen finally speaks up.

“Sorry,” The con artist says carefully. “But you are…«I know this one…» banning me from the Archives? Yes?”

“That is the long and short of it, yes.” Elias says, grudgingly

“Why?” Reigen challenges, eyes hard and searching. “What have I, personally, done that’s wrong here? What behavior do I need to correct?”

There’s a moment of silence. The whirring of the tape recorder sounds uncomfortably loud.

“Mr. Arataka, are you currently under the employ of the Magnus Institute?” Elias asks, brow furrowed.

“Ah, no, no, but—”

“Are you looking to become employed by the Institute at this point in time, as a prospective member of the Archival Staff?” He fires off rapidly.

“Su-Sorry, but if you could just go a little slower—”

“Then I am afraid that unless you’re looking to fill out an employment contract or a Statement form, we cannot help you, Mr. Arataka.” Elias spreads his hands wide. “We are an academic institution, a place of research and learning. The Institute cannot allow for social dalliances on company time, especially not when those visits are negatively contributing to the work environment and the wellbeing of our staff.”

Tim throws up his hands, “I-I cannot believe this!”

Reigen’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment.

“Arataka is my…what do you call it? First name?” He says, at last. “Using it in this context is…inappropriate. Please call me Reigen, if you would, Bouchard-san.”

“Of course. My mistake, Mr. Reigen.” Elias does have the decency to look somewhat abashed. “Though, regrettably, I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises within the next twenty minutes, or I will be forced to call security.”

Reigen nods, jerkily, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Jon almost wants to call out to the fraud as he turns to go, grab him by the shoulder, pick another argument, something. He knows he should be happy, be glad that this thorn in his side will finally stop bothering him, but instead he just feels—befuddled. Off-kilter.

What happened to the man who once spent three hours arguing for the “spiritual effectiveness” of entirely performative and useless rituals, saying that ensuring his clients left his office fooled and contented was better than actually uncovering genuine supernatural forces and learning all there was to know about them? Why is he going so-so easily now, when he’s made Jon fight tooth and nail in every debate he’s had with the so-called psychic?

At the door, the con man pauses.

“Bouchard-san. You said I could come back if I had a statement to give?”

Elias shifts in his seat, looking bemused. “W-well, yes. That is a service we do provide. Of course, the statement would have to be genuine, and verifiable as such before we let you back into the Archives.”

“We don’t even do that for most of the rubbish we do take,” Tim mutters under his breath, and though Jon is glad he’s not the one being shot a quelling look, he does have to agree.

The con man turns back.

He’s got that smirk on his face that immediately puts Jon’s hackles up on instinct, prepared to argue against whatever inane point he’s come up with now to defend his phony psychic title.

“Gotcha.” Reigen says, far too cheerfully. «Ja ne.»

Then he strolls out of the office, as cool as a cucumber.

Jon could even swear he hears him whistling as he makes his way down the stairs.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“I’d do him.” Sasha pipes up, unhelpfully.

“Sasha!” Martin hisses, scandalized. “D-don’t you have a, a—”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about that.” She remarks, far too blasé for someone in a newly committed relationship. “Tom’s heard about him too, and he agreed he’s just our type.”

“And I’m not?” Tim jokes, but there’s a hard edge to it that Jon’s found himself increasingly familiar with in the past few weeks.

Sasha shrugs with a mischievous little smile, as if that mattered very little to her.

Elias coughs. “Right. Well. Whatever your relations to Mr. Reigen are, please try to limit them to outside the workplace in future.”

The rest of the intervention is surprisingly subdued. Elias gives Jon access to the footage from the cameras in the rest of the Institute, and Tim bodychecks him on the way out of the office, muttering about how nice it must be to never face any consequences for his actions. Sasha follows, the way she won’t meet his eyes a condemnation in its own right.

Even Martin doesn’t say anything to him, just bites his lip and hurries past back down to the Archives. It doesn’t sting. It doesn’t.

Even as he settles in to watch and rewatch the CCTV records of Gertrude’s last week alive, Jon can’t shake the ridiculous feeling of foreboding that’s dogged him since Reigen left.

Most of him wants to say it comes from the fact that despite the fact that Reigen has not appeared in any of the camera records for the Magnus Institute before he started his term as Head Archivist in 2016, isn’t banning him from the Archives just letting the con man run around London with impunity, with no way for Jon to ascertain his movements or motives? That instead of solving a problem, Elias has just given a potential murderer free reign to escape?

But a small part of Jon, one that never could deny the sensation of being watched, that is frozen in second-hand terror whenever he reads a Statement, knows, Knows that it this stems more from the idea that the fraud will actually accomplish what Elias has unwittingly challenged him to do.

The illogical but pervasive surety that he will do so.

Jon’s not sure if he’s more afraid that Reigen Arataka will vanish entirely, another unfortunate victim become an unsolved mystery.

Or that he’ll come back, and bring whatever he’s managed to unearth on his insane quest with him.

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samsexualdeancurious · 3 years

Text

Little Silver Barbells (NSFW)

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Words: 1,545

Summary: Sam discovers the reader has nipple piercings and wants to find out what else is pierced.

Warnings: Nipple piercings, vertical clitoral hood piercing, naughty times

Written for CeCe's June 2020 request

Betaed by @manawhaat

---

She’s not wearing a bra.

Normally, Sam wouldn’t care either way. He’s heard from many women through the years that they’re uncomfortable and it’s her body, she can wear what she wants. She’s gone braless in the bunker before, but it’s been months since he’s noticed, and this time he really notices.

Sometime in the last year, Y/N got her nipples pierced.

He can see them through her thin grey tank top, two small balls on either side of her nipples that are extremely distracting. He’s been crushing on Y/N for about a year now and this is really not helping his predicament. Hopefully she doesn’t notice him staring.

… where else does she have piercings?

“Yo, Sam.”

She’s snapping her fingers in front of his face. He startles, realizes he’s been caught, and immediately feels his face burn. Y/N smirks knowingly.

“See something you like?” she teases, leaning forward on the library table and squeezing her breasts together between her arms as she does. The action emphasizes her cleavage and the additions to her nipples, and that’s when the realization sets in that she knows.

Fuck.

Sam stutters, tripping over his words. She lifts a brow at him and he blushes harder because he doesn’t even know what it is he’s trying to say.

“Sam,” she purrs, beckoning to him with one finger. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

He somehow gets to his feet and rounds the table without bumping into it or tripping over his feet, following her as she heads down the hall in the direction of the bedrooms. “Y/N?” he says as they walk. “What are…?”

She laughs, spinning to face him and offer her hand. “C’mon, Sammy. I know you don’t get out much but surely even you know what it looks like when a woman wants a man to do all sorts of naughty things to her.”

He stammers and she laughs again, a bright sound that sends warmth through his core. He’s always loved her laugh, since the very day they met and she saved his ass from a werewolf. Dean had said something snarky that Sam can’t remember now, but she’d laughed and Sam had been sold.

“Sam,” she says in a low, dangerous voice as she stops in front of her door and pulls him to her. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to see if anything else is pierced,” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

Y/N stares at him a moment in stunned silence and Sam’s sure he’s fucked this up. But then she grins mischievously and spreads her arms wide. “Come find out, then.”

Sam growls low in his throat and shoves Y/N against the door, finally - finally - pressing his lips to hers. She returns his passion, one hand digging into his hair and the other scrambling behind her to find the doorknob. Suddenly the door flies open and they practically fall through. Sam manages to keep them upright and kicks the door closed, gets it locked before Y/N drags him towards the bed. She’s already halfway through his shirt buttons and Sam doesn’t know when that happened; he was too busy marveling at the perfect pressure of her mouth against his.

“Why do you wear so many layers?” she complains, tearing their lips apart and frowning at his shirt.

Sam chuckles and gets to work on his belt while she finishes his buttons. Soon both his flannel and belt are thrown aside, and Sam pulls his t-shirt over his head.

Y/N immediately settles her hands on his waist with a soft, happy noise that sparks warmth in Sam’s chest.

“Fucking hell, Sammy,” she says, thumbs stroking the little divots above his hip bones. “That’s it. No more shirts for you. I want to be able to look at this all day long.”

She winks and Sam’s cheeks burn but he laughs all the same, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of her head. She comes easily when he guides her into a kiss and this one is soft, much softer than what started in the hallway.

“Oh, you’re good at that,” Y/N murmurs when they break for air. “We’re gonna do a lot more of that.”

“Of course,” he agrees, even though his heart is doing happy little flips right now. Bumping their noses together, his hands settle on her waist. “But someone here is a little overdressed, and it’s not me.”

Y/N smirks and takes a step back. In one smooth motion, she grabs the hem of her tank top and whips it over her head. Suddenly, she’s standing before him in just her leggings and all the blood in Sam’s body is in his dick.

“Oh,” he breathes after just looking in silence for the longest moment. “Oh, that’s… wow.”

Y/N smiles wide and genuine, confident in her partial nudity under Sam’s hungry gazy. “I guess you approve, then?”

“Hell yes,” Sam manages, returning his hands to her waist. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re stunning.”

Her smile softens, a little shy. “Yeah? Wanna see more?”

That’s all the permission Sam needs. He shifts his hands to her thighs and lifts, tossing her backwards onto the bed. She bounces a little on the mattress, laughing, and scoots up to the center of the bed while Sam sheds his jeans and socks. He hesitates over his boxers and Y/N answers the unspoken question for him by reaching out to yank them down herself. His cock bobs free and she groans, one hand curling around the base of the long shaft.

“Knew you’d be big all over,” she says. “I want that in me but first…” She releases his cock and lays back on the mattress, arms over her head in a loose stretch that gives him the most beautiful view of her peaked nipples and the little silver bars running through them. She shoots him a wicked smirk that speaks volumes about all the dirty things she wants to do to him and have done to her. “First you have a discovery to make.”

Sam’s brain stops functioning for what feels like a full thirty seconds at those words and the possibilities they hold. Y/N’s giggle gets the wheels turning again and he kicks off his boxers before climbing up onto the bed, kneeling on top of her thighs.

He has to kiss her first. He just has to. She welcomes his kiss, fingers sliding into his hair as she sighs against his lips.

“Such a gentleman,” she says with a soft, fond smile. “C’mon, baby, get to exploring.”

Sam is more than happy to obey. He’s usually a “wow the lady with pure brute strength and a big cock” kind of guy but something about Y/N and this whole situation makes him want to go slow, draw this out. He’s dying to get her completely naked and find all the secrets her body hides, between whatever piercing she’s teasing at and the many little spots he can use to make her squirm and whimper beneath him.

She’s vocal as he kisses his way down her body, but in a quiet, breathy way. Each sigh and moan he draws from her lips sends little shivers of pleasure down his spine. She’s so beautifully receptive and Sam is more than happy to linger when he finds a nipple and catches it in her teeth, the action spurring her to arch into his mouth. Hell, Sam will stay here forever if she wants him to, giving her breasts all the attention he’s been thinking of since he first realized what he was seeing through her shirt.

“Sam,” she finally manages, shoving at his shoulders and pressing her hips upward the best she can in her position. “Sam, please, I need…”

“I gotcha.”

He kisses down the valley between her breasts and leaves a damp trail over her belly, pausing at the waistband of her leggings to look up at her through his lashes. She gives him a little nod and he pulls the pants down, careful to leave her panties in place - just to draw this out a little longer. As soon as the leggings have been tossed aside, he turns his attention to her panties. They’re a simple blue cotton pair soft under his fingertips as he begins slowly tugging them down her thighs.

All he can see at first is a little glint of silver and his cock throbs at the sight, the knowledge of what Y/N is about to share with him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, lifting up release her legs.

She happily spreads them and Sam’s hand flies down to grip the base of his cock at the sight - a little barbell, similar to the ones through her nipples, running vertically through the hood of her clit.

“Oh, my god,” Sam groans, leaning down to rest his cheek against her inner thigh and just look for a moment. She’s fucking gorgeous here as well, lovely folds beneath the delicate piece of jewerly, and he wants her like he hasn’t wanted anyone before.

“Go on, big guy,” Y/N says, fingertips brushing his hair off his forehead. “Have a taste.”

And that’s all the invitation Sam needs.

---

Like this fic? Support me longterm on Patreon HERE or make a one-time donation on Ko-Fi HERE.

—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @manawhaat @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @emoryhemsworth @imsuperawkward @onethirstyunicorn

#my writing #sam x reader #supernatural #lemon

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pa-panda-heroes · 4 years

Note

Hey! Not sure if my previous request sent so I’m going to send it again, sorry. Can you do a scenario where Tomura, Tamaki, and Hawks have a s/o with thick thighs who often gets embarrassed about how big they are? And the guys just lay on their thighs and it’s super fluffy? You can obviously ignore this if you want

It did don’t worry, I understand tumblr can be a pain sometimes! Ah, i feel like i may have deviated from the specifics of your request, i’m sorry >< hope you enjoy nonetheless ^^” Also it’s pretty long so i put it under a read more :>

Tomura, Tamaki, and Hawks with a s/o with thick thighs who often gets embarrassed about them scenarios!

Tomura:

It was hard to complain - or say anything, really - when you could see the tall, thin-legged woman in the video game Tomura played while you sat idly to his left on the sofa. Almost as if through instinct you brought the blanket that sat wrapped at his back over your legs. You’d thrown it over him earlier, and after some time he’d shrugged it off as if he got too hot. Yet there he was, looking for all the world offended and downright robbed as you took the blanket.

“What’d you do that for?” he asked, clearly pouting at you for robbing him of such cuddly, fuzzy warmth. Apparently. It was getting late, and sleepiness coated his voice.

“I’m... cold.”

Tomura made a face - one that clearly called you a liar, before he actually did so. “Liar.”

You knew better than to lie to him, he’d coax it out of you somehow. “It’s just... y’know, my legs. They’re big...” Your voice was meek and tiny.

“So? Mine are bony.” He shrugged away.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the genuine confusion in his voice. It was cute in his own way, and he admitted to being bony so unabashedly you didn’t know how else to react. He gave a huff you couldn’t quite translate and tossed his controller onto the coffee table, then switching off the TV and literally plopping his head into your lap while he lay on his side. You thought about protesting, but you knew how childish and bratty he could be when you denied him comfort.

Forefinger rubbing circles on your thigh, Tomura dug his face into your legs like a cat begging for rubs, his hand then gently grabbing the thigh furthest from it. “Don’t be embarrassed around me. I like them,” he said plainly into your skin, though you knew he meant it. “This would be really uncomfortable for both of us if they were small, right?”

“W-well...” Getting the lump in your throat unstuck proved quite a feat, your cheeks and ears feeling like they’d been set aflame. You didn’t let him touch your thighs often, as it was just too... much, so for him to rest his head on them and caress them, it was unexpected. But pleasant and sweet nonetheless. You couldn’t help but brush his hair away from his face, and in doing so revealed serenely closed eyes and a sleepy pout that made your lips curl upward.

“Quite staring, it’s rude,” you hear him jut, before he moves his face to hide the fresh redness of his almost sickly-pale skin, and you stifle a giggle. A few moments of serene silence pass before he’s shifting to glance up at you again, eyes honest and ever-so-innocent somehow. “Hey, I like this. Don’t hide from me anymore, alright? I don’t care about something like that. I want to do this more often.” It’s not like he could tell you not to he embarrassed in general. But he at least didn’t want you embarrassed around him. Tomura brought a hand up to your cheek to gently glide along your cheek with three of this fingers. The touch was so gentle and sweet, it was almost like he was afraid you were made of glass and would shatter.

He turned on his side to adjust his legs across the sofa and settled in, and while you knew he couldn’t see it, you nodded a little. “Okay.”

“Stay with me forever,” you hear him mumble into your thigh. It was his own way of saying “I love you,” you’re well aware of that.

“I love you, Tomura.”

Oftentimes Tomura liked to fake being asleep, just for you to lavish him bu touching his hair - and you played into it anyway, happy to give - not that he didn’t appreciate your affection while he was awake. But this time, as you watched his breathing fall into a slow rhythm and quiet down, he fell asleep for real.

Tamaki:

Tamaki was no stranger to embarrassment himself, so he knew all too well what you felt. Maybe not exactly, but the whole “I need to hide from prying eyes or I’ll combust” shtick? Yeah, he had that down pat. Embarrassment, for Tamaki, is clearly no stranger. Neither is your embarrassment.

So when the two of you are out on your unexpectedly unison day off and you suddenly go silent, staring at the stick-statured women enjoying the cafe like the two of you, it’s hard not to notice. Most aren’t dressed in tight clothing as per Japan’s norm, but there are a few who wore long pants that seemed to elongate - and slim - their legs.

Tamaki’s first clue is when you shift in your seat and adjust your clothing. The second is when you seem to shrink into your seat while someone passes by. The third is when he asks you a question and you don’t hear enough of it to respond. He finds himself adjusting in his seat as he leans over a little. “Y/n, are you okay? You’re uncomfortable.”

“I-I’m sorry, can we leave and go home?” you sputter bashfully, while there is a hint of guilt in your voice, he knows it. For once you’re the one stuttering, not him. He leaves the appropriate yen notes and a few coins on the table, and the two of you leave to walk home. It’s evening by now, people on the streets sparce and the sky vibrant oranges and yellows. You walk hand in hand, arms swinging. The way the glow from sunset illuminated his face is gorgeous, and you almost wish you could take a picture when you get home, regretting that you didn’t as you plop onto the couch in the silence of your living room.

“You’re you,” he says, and you quirk a brow at him. Tamaki’s eyes are drifted off to the side, but there’s a strength within them and his tone. “You’re y/n. It doesn’t matter to me what you look like. As long as you’re still here, I-I’m happy.”

“T-Tamaki...” You’re quite shocked by how suddenly he brings this up, and how gingerly yet... firmly? You’re unsure if that’s the proper word. He’s not a nervous mess as he says it. It’s clear that he’s been waiting to say this, possibly afraid of your reaction - or because he’s just not confrontational that way.

Tamaki scratches the back of his head, slightly slouching over. “I know what other people may think bothers you. I feel that way about myself. Wh-what matters is what you think of yourself.” He finally looks back at you, and while you can tell he wants nothing more than to shove his forehead against the nearest wall, he doesn’t - for you. His hand rests on your thigh nearest to him, and gently rubs a line up and down it. “I care about you, and I want you to, also.”

“Maybe we can work on thinking better of ourselves together,” you say shyly, smile cracking your lips wide open.

He nods shyly and squeezes your thigh. Tamaki leans over and pecks the crown of your head, then quickly pulling away out of embarrassment. You grin and decide to do the same, save for planting a kiss to his jawline repeatedly, and he lets out a noise. Tamaki’s face reddens deeply and he covers it with his free hand bashfully before dropping into your lap and hiding his face into your thighs.

“Aaaah...”

Your fingers wander into his hair and you rub his scalp, receiving a jolt from him before he relaxed to your touch and you giggle.

Hawks:

Being the lover of the number two hero of Japan brought ita fair share of fun and love - and with it occasionally came grief. The public eye was constantly all over the both of you, some hoping to find some scandal while others just wanted to nose in on your daily lives together. Ah, and who could forget the entire, ridiculously long article written on what brand of shampoo you use. That itself didn’t piss you off; if anything, it was sad for them and funny and entertaining for you. What was aggravating was the fact that they were wrong!

Not aggravating, though, was the article written on your figure. It was insulting and almost inhumanely cruel. The comments were worse. But you were trying not to think about it on Keigo’s one day off since the last blue moon (seriously, did they not understand he was human, too?!). You wanted to be as cheery and bright for him as he always is for you, but there was no such thing as hiding something from him.

“What’s gotcha down, babes?” he chirps, sitting next to you on his couch with a drink in his left hand while his right was occupied with rubbing and resting on your thigh. “Did that last movie bum you out? Sorry, didn’t realise it was gonna be sad like that.”

“No, it was great!” You shake your head vehemently, ensuring he knows you weren’t unhappy with his cinematical choice. Lying to him was literally no option; those wonderful, beautiful feathers of his ensured that by letting him hear your heartbeat. “Always having the public fixated on my appearance and habits is frustrating, is all.”

Keigo downs likely half of the coffee he’d grabbed in one swig before nodding knowingly. It’s set atop the end table to be put aside. Then, he leans back on the sofa next to you, trying his best to accommodate his wings and you. “Yeah, I get that. It does take time getting used to,” he says, before making a face. He must’ve been reminiscing on times where something was said about him - or you - publicly that was hurtful or untrue. “You just have to learn to let it roll off your back. It’s probably not much help, but that’s what I did.” It’s not like he had much choice, but you don’t say that.

“You’re right, I guess.” You shrug. That just doesn’t make it any easier to think about, so you can’t help but pout sadly a little. You’ll just have to work with that mindset from now on.

“Hey, c’mon!” he beams with a toothy grin, leaning into your face until there’s a hand’s width between you. “I’m worth it, though! Right?”

You cross your arms and close your eyes with a cheeky smirk. “Hmm, no comment, Mister Reporter, sir!” you joke. Teasing him was always a treat when you felt down.

Keigo pouts immediately at your response, yet you know he appreciates the humour when he whines aloud. You crack open an eye at him, but both eyes are quick to jolt open when you see that impish grin that he only donned when-

“Guess I’ll just have’ta tickle it outta you, eh, chickadee?”

“Oh, no-!”

Before you could even finish that he tackles you into the couch, fingers working their way up your tummy and around your legs to torture your nerves. You laugh and cry at the same time, being so enveloped in it that you can’t find a way to fight back against him. You’re laughing so hard it’s almost hard to breathe when he uses his feathers to his advantage by increasing the area of his tickle-assault.

“W-worth it!” You giggle out, writhing underneath him.

“Me, or the joke?”

“B-bo- heheheh, both!”

#mha #mha scenarios #mha x reader #shigaraki x reader #tamaki x reader #hawks x reader #shigaraki tomura #amajiki tamaki #hawks #takami keigo #comfort / fluff #scenarios #roxybefab #may edit this later because im running on four hours sleep #:’>

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cml-san · 4 years

Text

Pretty much like the Kazoo kid

This request was taken from an anon in @equizona‘s blog (Got her permission, don’t worry mah dudes), follow her, her work is amazing!

"You 1-A scums feel like you're so special when you're just a bunch of troublemakers!" There he was again.

"You may have a flashy quirk but you barely ever get to do anything productive with it!" At least he wasn't saying anything to you, because why would anyone say anything to you.

"Hey! Did you hear me?" After all who would notice you anyways. "You with the headphones, are you even listening?"

Wait.

What?

"Man, you were talking to me bro?" You said, surprised by having someone besides Aoyama say anything at all to you. I mean yeah, you were the only one on the patio but that's how weird it was that anyone spoke to you.

"Oh I get it, you think just because you are in 1-A no one from the inferior groups is worth to talk to you" The blond guy kept on with the one-sided argument; it was almost sad, seeing him making all those exaggerated movements while showing that cynic smile of his... Honestly, it was such a mood.

"Nah man, I just think I'm not worth talking to" You retorted with a pose, grinning as if you had just told a great joke and that caught him off guard. "What?-" A heavy hand on the back of his neck cut him off before he could come with a- well he wasn't even sure if he was going for a clever comeback or with an 'are you okay?' but that's not the point here.

Now there was an unconscious body, being held by Kendo and you were still in an awkward pose, amused by what had just happened. "I'm sorry you had to deal with this guy, please don't mind whatever he said"

"Oh! No, it wasn't a bother at all" you said.

"Really?, this guy is such a pain sometimes, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to punch him." Kendo said jokingly.

"Nah, I'm worse to deal with" you said with that ridiculous pose and grin letting out a giggle.

Holy shit.

That was the cutest thing Monoma had ever heard in his entire goddamn life, but to hide the pretty obvious blush on his face he opted for acting unconscious.

"Well I gotta get going so, I guess I'll see you around?" Kendo said in an awkward tone.

You noticed how she was uncomfortable and quickly retrieved your pose "Y-yeah" you said shyly.

Just as Kendo had left, a friendlier face appeared "Sorry for the lateness" said Aoyama, his dazzlingness sharp as always.

"Don't worry dude, what did Aizawa want anyways?"

"Nothing, he just said my grades are getting worse."

"Welp that sure sounds like nothing." You said in a sarcastic but playful tone.

"What about you, anything happened while you were waiting for me? I saw Kendo dragging Monoma."

"Yeah, he just came at me saying the usual stuff, but at first I didn't know he was talking to me and-" Aoyama interrupted you.

"Hon, who else was he supposed to be talking to? The trees?" He said gesturing at the emptiness surrounding you, astonished by your stupidity.

"Good point" you said in an acknowledging manner.

"Anyways, the thing is he said something and I answered in the way I always do and so I managed to make two persons uncomfortable" You said in a somewhat sad tone.

"Don't give it too much thought" he said, his sparkling aura soothing you somehow.

"Yeah, maybe I shouldn't worry" You reached into your bag and got out a ball of cheese "I gotcha the goods"

Aoyama raised an eyebrow "It's Queso Oaxaca" you said with a smirk.

Later that night Monoma couldn't help but to think of you. Something about you seemed sad but you didn't seem to bother, he tried to sort out if you were just kidding or if you were a nihilist.

"What the hell was that?"

The following days he couldn't help but to observe you, he started noticing little things, for example; you were a god-tier memer and your personality was similar to Kaminari's but the reason why you didn't hang with him is that you were too shy to do so.

Aoyama was your best and only friend.

You had a strong quirk but passed unnoticed by your previously mentioned shyness.

You were indeed a nihilist. But not the usual kind, instead of getting depressed by all of your pessimism you would embrace it with humour.

Ironically you wanted to become a hero to make the world a little bit better, or perhaps so that you could talk about how everything sucks without having anyone telling you how you weren’t doing anything about it.

Monoma didn’t seem to realize how much he liked you until Kendo addressed the issue.

"Stop staring at her before she sues you"

"I'm not staring at anyone!" Monoma lied, his face growing redder with both anger and embarrassment.

"It's kinda funny tho" Kendo started speaking as she cut the meat on her lunch tray "You hate class 1-A yet you are head over heels for one of them" she said taking a bite of her food.

"Well I don't like her and I'm gonna prove it to you" Monoma said as he stood up and walked towards the table where Aoyama and you were sitting.

He leaned and was preparing an insult but how could he say anything like that to you, that's illegal.

"Anything I can help you with?" You said raising an eyebrow. That was his cue.

"Oh, nothing I was just wondering, how does it feel to belong to the oh so great class 1-A and yet be unnoticed by everyone inside and out of your class?"

Now he had done it.

He was scolding himself internally for saying that and was prepared to accept anything you would do next.

"Well I've been watching you and you have been staring at me, so I'm not really being unnoticed bro"

"And why were you looking at me?" Monoma asked genuinely confused.

"Well I just think you look pretty"

Monoma froze at your commentary along with Aoyama and Kendo who were watching the whole thing unfold.

That was pretty bold of you and Monoma's now usual blush came back to his cheeks, his chest tightening; 'well you're very pretty too' that's what he wanted to say, but the words didn't come out of his mouth.

"Pretty much like the Kazoo kid" you said abruptly.

"NICE ONE (Y/N)-CHAN"

You heard Mina shout from the table in front of you, you turned to see Aoyama's look of disappointment and Monoma was nowhere to be seen.

"You chickened out" said Aoyama.

You were back at the dorms and were currently lying face down on the floor of Yuga's room

"Dude I know, I just- I don't think I have the guts to do so"

"But you did!"

"Yeah but I remembered he definitely doesn't like me and saved my ass from suffering an embarrassing rejection!"

You felt Yuga grab your right foot and drag you outside his room. "What the hell Yuga?!"

"(Y/N) I'm doing this for your own good" The blonde boy said in a serious tone. "You are hereby exiled from the dormitories and are not to return until you have properly confessed to that Kazoo kid."

And then he slammed the door in your face.

You then proceeded to walk towards the 1-B dormitories.

You knew Yuga was right. You had been watching Neito for a long time now, and boy did you have the most gigantic crush on him.

There was something about him you couldn't help but to be attracted to.

Yes, he was annoying and he hated your class with a burning passion but when he wasn't attacking your class he was working hard to become a hero and helping his class.

He sure had leader material and you admired his determination.

You liked how kind he was.

How supportive he was towards his classmates.

How he was always giving his best and helping others to do so.

But then again, he hated your class and you by default, but that didn't make him any less charming to you, if anything more unattainable.

You had to apologize and tell him the truth, you had already accepted he would never like you back so you weren't going to 'give it a try' more like get it off your chest.

You were a pessimist because you were either right all the time or gladly surprised by being wronged. So it was more like a cushion.

You were almost arriving at the dormitories when you saw Monoma sitting under a tree reading a book. He was relaxed, something weird to see with how he acted around your class all the time. 'Freaking Avril Lavigne is right' you thought.

The sunset graced his features making his golden hair shine.

"What a cliché scenario" You said making Neito look away from his book.

"Oh it's you again, what do you want now?" His tone wasn't like all those times he would mock you and your class, it sounded dry and it hurt you.

"Sorry I uh" you were stammering, you weren't the best at apologizing, and apologizing to your crush was even harder.

"I wanted to apologize, for what I said earlier" You said fidgeting your fingers and looking at the ground.

"I didn't mean that- well I mean I did-"

"Don't worry" He interrupted you in that monotone voice that hurt you so much to hear "Just leave it like that."

"Y-yeah" Again you weren't able to tell him how you felt.

"Is that all?" Monoma said while staring at you.

"Actually, no" you said as you looked him in the eye with a determined gaze.

oh shit

"I did mean what I said earlier" shit, no.

"You do, look pretty much like the Kazoo kid" no, stop you dumbhead.

"But"

"Y-you also look very pretty. And I like you a lot Monoma."

...

He just stared at you with a surprised look on his face.

There was nothing but silence

"Andlikeyeahyou'rereallyhotandstuffandlikedamnbro" You just blurted out looking at the ground again.

This was the most embarrassing moment in your entire life and it only got worse as you heard that asshole burst into laughter.

Tears were threatening to fall from your eyes when you felt his soft fingers lift up your chin and you were suddenly staring into his blue gaze.

"You are weird, you know that?" His voice sounded so sweet and smooth which caught you off guard making you blush even more, which was a surprise.

"You are very pretty too and I also like you a lot" His gaze was soft and the way he spoke to you was enough to make you melt.

"And" he said leaning in closer to your ear "You also have pretty lips" he said in a low tone with what you could have sworn was a smirk but you weren't able to see it well because next thing you knew he was kissing you.

You closed your eyes and kissed him back, it was your first kiss as well as his; it was clumsy, a bit sloppy but it was beautiful.

You broke the kiss, your head resting against his chest, both of you breathing heavily and blushing madly.

"I think we're gonna have to practice on that" you said, a dumb smile across your face.

"Yeah, but only if you agree to become my girlfriend" Neito said caressing your cheek.

You planted a peck on his lips.

"I don't see why not, kazoo kid."

#cmlsan #CmlSanFic #oneshot #bnha #mha #monoma fluff #bnha monoma #monoma x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #aoyama yuga #itsuka kendou #bnha x reader

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thenexusofsouls · 3 years

Note

"I- I know." Carter swallowed thickly, still fiddling with her bracelet as the hair on the back of her neck prickled uncomfortably. She knew he didn't want anything happening to her, and... it somehow made her feel worse. Because she knew how hard he tried to do good with her. Knew how much he wanted to protect her from everything else that he'd seen despite how much she'd already gone through at no fault of his. But... she had already experienced how cruel people could be, and it had stolen most of her childhood. She wasn't a child, and she couldn't let herself live with the fear that had plagued her since she had been. But she didn't want this to hurt her father as well. Didn't want him hurting because of the decisions she made. She was still scared and she just... wanted to make this better somehow.

But the moment Obadiah's name left Tony's lips, Carter flinched - turning her head away as her jaw tightened, her face paling just enough to be noticeable. Her heart thudded before it picked up pace, and she did her best to keep her breathing under control. Did her best to swallow the rising panic in her chest as she forced herself to take note of everything around her. To take note of the feeling of her bracelet against her wrist and beneath her fingers. Of the fact her father was right there and wasn't lying on that couch with a hole in his chest--

She couldn't respond as she forced herself to remain as steady as possible. And she hated herself for still being unable to hear that name without having a panic attack. Hated that she couldn't seem to move on. But... even despite his apology, Carter was hurt that he'd remind her of that. As if she hadn't been there when Obadiah showed his true colors. As if she hadn't seen her father dying because of him. And she felt... angry. Because it was easier to deal with anger. Easier to distract herself from the panic that threatened to consume her.

"You- you don't need to- to remind me," she said quietly, a sharp edge to her shaky voice. "I- I know people lie. I- I know how- how terrible people can- can be. I've- I've been on- on that end, too." More times than I care to count. "And I- I wouldn't let him- him hurt you if that- that was his goal. I- I know I've- I've fucked up before, but I wouldn't- wouldn't do that to you. I- I wouldn't let someone get to- to you through me." Because... while she knew she hadn't been a good daughter, she wasn't going to let anything like that happen. Not if she could help it. And she trusted Pietro enough to be certain that wasn't even remotely a risk she'd be taking with him.

That frightened anger faded despite the panic still causing her heart to race, and Carter winced. She hadn't meant to snap at Tony. Not when she knew he was trying. Not when she knew he was looking out for her, and not when he was understandably worried about himself as well. And, slowly, she moved over to him before sitting down next to him - staying silent as he apologized once more and explained himself. She... wasn't quite sure what to say or how to react.

"You- you should probably see a- a doctor about that." Her gaze flickered towards him as he popped an antacid - humor weakly lacing her tone. But she turned her gaze away again and swallowed thickly, her hand going still as she stopped fiddling with her bracelet. "You- you could get Stark- Stark Industries to work on- on that. I'm- I'm sure your lot could- could find a- a way to make them taste better." She sighed, and pursed her lips before she reluctantly addressed the issue of... mistakes.

"Isn't that- that the thing, though? That I- I need to make mistakes to find- find my own way?" she sounded weary, and she rolled the beads of her bracelet beneath her fingers as her panic slowly began to subside - her shoulders slumping. "I've- I've already made enough- enough of them, dad. I- I wish I could change them, but... I- I can't." She wished she could say they were little things. Something like failing to hold a door open for someone else. But... they were things she couldn't speak about - especially not to him. Not when she had stayed quiet for as long as she had. But she didn't blame him - she couldn't. Not when it was her own fault.

Carter leaned against her father - resting her head on his shoulder as he promised she would never lose him. She believed him, she did, but... she still felt terrible. Still felt like she only managed to cause more harm instead of trying to mend things. "You're- you're not gonna lose me- me either, y'know," she mumbled, "you're kinda- kinda stuck with me."

Slowly, she lifted her head and finally looked up at him - staying quiet even as Tony agreed to speak with Pietro. She felt relieved, but... it didn't make her feel much better. "Thank you." She turned her head away once more - fidgeting with her bracelet. "I'll- I'll be there if... if that- that helps. Unless... it'd be- be easier if I- I wasn't."

Tony hadn’t meant to upset Carter with the reference, but that was just it. he hadn’t been thinking about her in the moment, he was only lashing out with his own emotion, his own trauma surrounding Obadiah. As soon as he remembered that she would have as bad a reaction or maybe even worse, he regretted saying it and wished he could take it back. But of course, no one could ever take anything back in life. “I’m sorry... I know, I’m sorry...” he said, feeling like the biggest dick in the world. “I don’t think before I speak, as you well know,” he said, self-loathing creeping in. “I’m less worried about someone getting to me than I am about them getting to you. You’re my daughter, my absolute responsibility, duty, and heart. If I fail myself, I can apologize to myself later, but if I fail you...” His face said it all. He’d never forgive himself. “How do I protect you without holding on too tightly?” he said, a strange sort of smile coming to his lips. It was the kind of smile one showed when they were at a loss, and have to show some humor or they might cry instead.

The topic of disgusting antacids was a welcome reprieve, however brief. “Been there, done that. You know what the doctor told me? Reduce my stress, don’t eat spicy foods, and don’t drink alcohol.” He laughed that special sort of high-pitched laugh he got when he found something genuinely hilarious. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” He looked at her. “What d’you think, honey? You wanna work with me on a little side project to create a tastier antacid? Could be fun. Quality time with your old man. Making the world a better place one bubblegum-flavored chewable at a time?” He chuckled, enjoying the light moment before they got right back into the thick of the conversation again.

“Yeah, that is the thing... but... I’d really rather you not have to live with regret. Take it from someone who has a ton of it, it’s not fun.” That wasn’t right, though, to shelter her so much that she never made her own mistakes. How was she supposed to learn anything that way? Knowing that didn’t help, though. “If I could fix all your mistakes and change everything and everyone who ever hurt you, myself included, to make your life better... I would do it in a heartbeat. But I can’t do that any more than you can go back and not make those mistakes yourself. Life sucks that way. It’s a constant game of gotcha.”

Tony smiled as she leaned her head against his shoulder, lifting his arm to curl around her shoulders. “How about... we’re both stuck with each other? The family that sticks together... sticks... together. Wow. That was terrible, I’ll... I’ll workshop that one and get back to you. That was so bad it wouldn’t even pass for a decent dad joke.”

So this was happening. Tony took a deep breath. It was probably better than it happened sooner rather than later. “Nope, I definitely want you there. We all need to iron this out somehow. Heh, get it? Iron it out. Because I’m... Iron Man? God, what is wrong with me and jokes that aren’t funny today? No, but seriously, let’s do it. Now. I’m game. Let’s just rip it off like a band-aid. Wait... is Wanda gonna be there? I don’t care, really. Well, I do, but... Mostly I just wanna mentally prepare for this event, so... just... to get an idea...” he asked awkwardly.

#ironxkid #muse: tony stark

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years

Text

Melanie

Thank you to @that-one-thespian for indulging my sick fic mood today.

TW: illness, medical setting and implied treatment.

They’re not sure how long they’ve been lying in the rain. The downpour hasn’t ceased or even wavered, and hardly any footsteps pass by. All the daylight was swallowed up in clouds, and now there are no indicators for whether it is gone noon, or gone three, or gone six. It’s a shitty summer. Northlight would have rolled into another time by now, but for their decidedly slippery control. They could end up somewhere worse.

The water feels like it has become them. It sits against their skin through the layers of their clothes, and runs rivers down the back of their neck and into their shoes. Their hair, normally a straggly, fluffy mess of black waves, is slick and flat against their skull and shoulders, heavy with liquid. It drips off their eyelashes with every blink like overrunning tears, but they’re not crying. They’re too cold to cry.

Under the ever-present white noise of the rain, Northlight can hear their own breathing. It sounds like a little set of bellows trying to ignite a fire. It is puffed and wheezy, and if they inhale slowly, they feel the faint shiver of a rattle in their chest. It’s not good.

In this era, at least they can hope someone will call an ambulance for them. They can hope there might be a concerned passer-by who will seek help. They won’t be expected to pay, either, when it’s over. It’s a good time to nearly die in.

They can’t die, of course. That’s something they can feel, through the everlasting breadth of time stretched around them. They permeate eternity. Death won’t come, no matter how long they lie, shivering, in the rain.

...and they open their eyes to softness. Soft sheets around their body, soft yellow light glowing off the walls, and a soft hand pressing lightly to their forehead.

“Sorry.” A soft voice, coinciding with the hand lifting from their skin. “Didn’t mean to wake you, darlin’.”

Northlight blinks heavily, trying to focus their eyes on the warm smile of the woman sitting on the edge of the mattress they’re lying on. “When...?”

“I found you a couple of hours ago, passed out in a heap in the rain. I hope you don’t mind me bringing you here. I’ve no patients right now, and you didn’t sound well.”

They blinked again, squinting at their saviour. She has a stethoscope around her neck over a strawberry patterned blouse. “Oh...doctor?”

“I am a doctor, yes,” she agrees. “But you can call me Melanie. I just run a walk-in clinic for this area. Do you have any allergies I need to know about?”

“No...” They squinted up at her again. More details emerged with each pass. She had cats-eye red glasses and a long, graceful neck.

“Okeydokey. Let’s get some water in you, if you can manage it. Careful now, as you sit up.”

Northlight found their arms and legs and half-pushed, half-pulled their aching body upright. They felt like they’d been awake for hours already, and yet at the same time, like they had still to fully wake up. As they leaned back again, a tightness in their chest alerted them to a coming cough, which wracked their bones in a shudder of convulsions.

“Mm, that’s why I brought you in,” Melanie said. “Not to worry, you’re in good hands now. As long as we can head off infection, you’ll be out of here in no time. Is there anyone I can call for you?”

They can’t remember if there is anyone, so they shake their head. Even if there is, it’s unlikely that anyone would come.

“And is there anything I can get for you that you like to eat? What do you like to do for fun? I want you to be comfortable here.”

Eat? “Anything hot,” they say, knowing full well how they sound. “Not - n-not fish, though. And um, I don’t...reading? History books.” That’ll be useful, at least.

“No fish, history books, gotcha.” She stood, patting her knees and smiling. “You’re okay to stay here until you feel better?”

“Yeah,” they say, because this really is exactly what they wanted. It might not be that easy, of course, given that their power is always fucking with them... But they want to try. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good!” She seemed genuinely thrilled. “So just get comfy, and if you need anything, you pull that string there, it’ll ring the bell I’ve got. Now just rest up, alright?”

They don’t mean to fall asleep as quickly as they do, but it’s much more comfortable here than they’ve felt in a long time, and it’s warm to boot. The air feels easier to breathe, maybe because she’s already treated them, but...it’s easier to sleep when they’re not fighting for every breath.

When he wakes, it’s initially with a sense of panic. Sleeping in a bed is dangerous thing, after all. If they fall asleep somewhere they’re not meant to be, they can wake up in trouble.

But today, slowly, they remember where they are. It’s a clinic, and there’s a doctor who looks up from a book at their bedside and smiles. “Evenin’,” she says. I hope your nap helped. Ready to get some food in you?”

They nod slowly, as the ache in their chest wakes up. They take the medication and drink the soup she hands them in turn. They try not to pull a face at the taste of her cooking, remembering worse. She chats a little, in a comforting way, like she’s just stopping the silence from getting too long. They try to reply, but their throat has hardened to something impossible to flex.

“Oh, lost your voice?” she asks. At their nod, she passes them a pad of paper and a pencil. “Not unusual for your kind of cough. If you could open your mouth for me...” She takes a quick peek inside, shining a little torch into their throat. “Mhmm. You’re okay. If you want to know more or have questions, fire away.”

They shake their head quickly. They’d rather not know, as long as they’re not at risk. It’s not like they can die - they just have to survive it, ride it out. And doctors can never tell you how long you’ll be sick for.

“Okeydoke. Anything else hurting or feeling off, aside from your chest and throat? Muscle pains, any open wounds or untreated injuries?”

Flu aches, they write on their paper.

“Ah, yes. I’ll get you a hot water bottle.” She gets up. “I’ll just be a minute.”

They lean their head back again on the pillows. The minute passes in a blink of their weighted eyelids, and they blink open again at the sensation of a warm sensation spreading over their chest. For a moment they think it must be blood, but when they open their eyes, Melanie is gently placing the hot water bottle over their blankets.

“Hey, thought you were asleep,” she whispers, smiling as warmly as the precious gift of heat she’s given them. “Where do you want this?”

They pick it up with weak hands and slide it behind their head, sighing in relief as it soothes the low pounding pain of their neck and shoulders.

“Better?” she asks softly.

They nod a little, and close their eyes again. They can’t have ever been this warm, or this comfortable.

Slowly, he takes off the shirt. She just wants to check them over. There’s no knife or scalpel or any kind of blade. Her hands rest, gloved, in the air. No sudden moves.

“It’s alright. I won’t touch you until you’re ready.”

He nods. He folds the shirt slowly, and then hesitates.

“Take your time.”

He pushes the covers down, exposing his bare chest. His ribs are lined with bruising from the coughs, but he doesn’t care about that. He doesn’t care about how his comfortable weight vanished, leaving only ugly bones behind. He doesn’t even mind that he’s filthy.

She can see the sigils. The one on his chest, the new one, and the old one on his shoulder. She can touch them, hurt him, burn him deep, copy them, bleed him, carve one into him again and trap him to this time...

“Look at me, Northlight. You’re safe. You’re in my clinic. Look at me, please.”

He finds her in the haze of flashbacks. Her gaze is steady and she smiles. “That’s it. When you’re ready, I’m going to put a hand on your ribs, and then on the other side. I just need you to keep breathing for me, okay? That’s all you need to do.”

He nods.

“Are you ready?”

She can see them. She can touch them. She can hurt him - but she won’t. He knows she won’t.

Nobody has seen this since Angel.

He nods.

“Alright. Any time you need me to stop, just say so. I’m dedicated to making this as comfortable as possible.

He watched her hands approach, but they stayed on target all the way to the edge of his skin, hovering just slightly above his ribs. He breathes slowly, and gives her another little nod before she lays her hands on him.

“That’s good,” she murmurs. “Keep breathing, nice and deep. I’m just feeling for damage. You seem okay, so I’m going to press a little. It might hurt or feel uncomfortable. Just keep breathing for me.”

She presses, feeling her way along the ribs. It burns coldly with the pressure of another person’s hands. The physical ache barely registers. She’s touching him. Gently.

“That’s really good. Okay, stethoscope time. Keep breathing nice and deep.” She places the ends in her ears and leans over him. “Here it comes. Shouldn’t be cold.”

It’s not, but he flinches anyway. It’s a different experience, and those are bad. New touches, unfamiliar kinds of touch, and he feels so vulnerable with the metal ring inches from the blood-beaded mark.

“Thank you, Northlight.” She takes the pressure away. “I can see the two wounds you told me about. Would you consider letting me dress them? I would be able to do it without touching them, although it would be better to clean them first. There’s a spray I can put on them that wouldn’t involve contact even from a swab.”

He shakes his head. He listens all the way through, because he respects her, but he shakes his head. If they get infected again, he’ll just wait it out. If they get bloodstains on his clothes, he’ll wash them off. It can’t be touched. They can never be touched. Every time mortal fingers press against them they burn like something carves them anew, and the contact from other sources is only barely an improvement. It hurts as though it is freshly cut, every second. It is only because he has multiple marks now that he can tell the pain does fade, eventually.

“I won’t give you any treatment you don’t want,” she tells him. She offers him his shirt. “Would you like a breather? I can give you space if you’d like. Or if you’re up for it, I can listen.” She gives him a serious, compassionate look. “I know you have nightmares.”

He doesn’t know why, but he nods. He thinks, if he talks about it, just a little...maybe they won’t hurt so much.

Northlight stays with Doctor Melanie for a week, recovering from whatever she said they had that they deliberately didn’t listen to. The cough gradually fades, and with it, the heaviness in their chest. The aches subside and they eat better than they have in years. Three times a day, always hot, with as much water as they want. Soup, stew, porridge and pasta, she was all about soft comfort foods that didn’t scrape their healing throat.

Besides that, the company. She watched television with them, laughing along with light-hearted shows. She played the guitar, and taught them a few basics, just for fun. She was full of stories about travelling to other countries, the kind of travelling Northlight had never been able to do, and could tell tales of growing up in America, of being a relief doctor, of her work in the community, and of her huge family. She enjoyed their comments and questions, and their evident interest in all that she knew.

They didn’t have to tell a single tale to earn their keep. She wanted to help them, and entertain them, and just - everything for them, for once, and it was stunning.

But they’ve healed now, and it’s time to leave. They’re better. They’re up and fed and washed. They’re ready to be sent away.

“Here,” she says, pressing a coin into their hand. “From when I was in Kenya. A souvenir of your journeys with me. Come back if you’re ever hurt or lonely, okay?”

They’d never told her that they were lonely. They hadn’t needed to. They nodded.

“Take care,” she said, seeming reluctant to see them off. Perhaps she hoped against hope that they could pay her. “I mean it, come back even if you’re hungry, okay?”

They nodded again. They slipped the coin into the pocket of their worn trousers. They’d refused new ones when she’d offered. She’d carefully emptied their pockets, washed their clothes, and returned them with the trinkets and scraps in a neat little pile.

She’d saved them. Barely a week after escaping from the cult, and they’d found someone so kind.

She closes the door. They aren’t sure if she’s still watching or not when they step to the side, coin still clutched tightly in their hand, and vanish.

#me: camp nano #also me: 2000 word sick fic #whump #sick fic #sickness #medical tw #comfort #recovery #aftermath #northlight #my fic #now go read outstayed welcome :)

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onceuponanotherassumption · 4 years

Text

All that I know is I don't know a thing (Jason Todd x Reader) Part 4

Masterlist

Summary: Reader is the daughter of Bruce and Selina, and is dating Jason. She used to work at the city’s hospital but had to quit when she found out that someone has been stalking her at work.

(A/N) I’m sorry for the long ass wait, I don’t know why it took this long but it’s here now—rising from the dead. Hopefully some people are still looking forward to the last of this series.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

It must have only been a few hours ever since (y/n) woke up in the basement and yet, she already has a perfect grasp of her captor’s unstable mentality. Depending on her choice of words, Jack was either civil or downright manic. As if his behaviour was always tipping on the precipice between normal and aggressive. But if the right cards were played, she could easily get herself out without warranting the need to maim anyone. Too busy with her thoughts, (y/n) doesn’t hear the door unlock until Jack crouches down in front of her with a frown on his face.

“I brought you a gift.” She slightly jolts at his sudden appearance, not expecting for him to show up. Jack tilts his head towards a certain direction, and (y/n) follows suit. She pales at what she finds. There was now a cork board hanging on the wall with numerous pictures of her pinned on it. Majority of them were obviously stolen photos, some even had Jason on them but his face was scribbled on with a marker. “I have a lot more photos, but those were the best ones. Do you like it?”

“Jack...” (y/n) tries to voice out a proper response but her mouth felt too parched to even utter a single word.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like my gift?” There was genuine concern in his tone, like he really did care about her well-being but (y/n) knew better than to trust him.

“I need to go home—“

“No! You’ll be staying here, you can’t leave! This is your home!” And there it was, his manic side taking over. Jack slams a hand on the wall as if to prove a point, a pained look on his face as he eyes (y/n). “Why can’t you understand that I love you?!”

(y/n) couldn’t help but flinch at the loudness of his tone. The cuffs were starting to chafe her wrists the more she tried to move her hands, and there weren’t any nearby objects behind her to help her get them off. What else could she do? Her eyes survey the basement once more, stopping at the sight of her pictures hastily pinned on the corkboard. A thought crosses her mind.

“Jack...?” She calls out, immediately getting his attention. “Can’t you just let me go?”

“No! You’re not allowed to!”

“Didn’t you say that love you me?” She tries again in the most pitiable voice she could muster. Jack recoils, face reddening from her words.

“I do...”

“But you know what would really make me love you?”

“What?”

“If you take these away.” (y/n) gestures to her bounded hands. “It’s starting to hurt my wrists, won’t you at least get rid of it?” She sees him contemplate his choices, a hesitant look on his face as he approaches her.

“Promise you won’t run away?”

“I promise.” (y/n) mutters softly, holding his gaze. A few seconds of silence pass by before Jack leans down on one knee in front of her, taking out a small key from his back pocket. With a surprising amount of care, he unlocks the metal cuffs open.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll come back in a moment with your food,” He gets up, still on guard in case the other tried something. When (y/n) remains seated on the ground, rubbing her reddened wrists, Jack backs away and heads for the door. At the sound of it being shut and locked, a breath of relief escapes (y/n). What was the best course of action for this kind of situation? Although Jack’s personality was bordering on the erratic side, he has yet to harm her nor take advantage of her vulnerability. The man had an obsession over her but (y/n) didn’t want to stay long enough to find out if it was harmless or not. While walking in circles to soothe her aching limbs, she spies a glint in the dim-lit room from her peripheral vision. She raises a brow in curiosity.

——

“I found her.” Selina immediately drops what she was doing and heads to where Bruce was seated in front of his many monitors, trying to make sense of what she was looking at. “She’s still wearing her necklace, so that made everything easy. Jack may have managed to take her but he isn’t smart enough to check for trackers.”

“There’s a chip in my daughter’s necklace?”

“Jason gave it to (y/n) on her birthday.”

“And he had it chipped with her permission?” Selina questions once more, not believing for a second that her daughter would willingly let herself wear a tracker at all times. (y/n) had a personal vendetta against them, she had a great dislike at the notion of her whereabouts being monitored and had made it absolutely clear to everyone. Even Jason, who was all for making sure that his girlfriend was out of harm’s way, respected her decision.

“Uh...Jason doesn’t know it’s chipped, neither does (y/n).” With squinted eyes, Selina urges him to continue. “I...may have replicated the original necklace and hid a tracker in it...”

“Bruce!”

“I did it in case of emergencies! And now we know where she’s being kept.” Bruce avoids the sharp glare directed at him, and moves away from Selina to grab an earpiece off the side to turn it on.

“We’re talking about this later.” She says with finality, a dangerous aura surrounding her.

“I know. But there are more important matters right now,” Turning on the earpiece, he hears two of his sons bickering back and forth. Bruce could already feel a headache coming. “Boys, stop arguing. I got (y/n)’s location.”

“Where?!” Bruce flinches at the sudden loudness, the sound making his ears rings.

“Jason, you need to—“

“Bruce, where is she?!” Jason exclaims, a combination of panic and impatience clear in his tone.

“Second house in Cremore Street, the one with the windows boarded up. You aren’t that far away.”

“On my way.”

“Jason, don’t go by yourself! For the love of—“ Before Bruce could say anything else, Jason had already disabled his own earpiece and evidently shutting off communication.

“Should’ve known he would’ve done that, Bruce.” Dick lets out a small chuckle, finally making his presence known. Bruce couldn’t help but groan in frustration. “Still need me to come there?”

“No, we can handle it.”

“Gotcha. Call me in case you do need any help, I’m just a car ride away.”

——

At the sound of a door lock being fumbled with, (y/n) mentally tries to calm down while hiding a rusty old wrench in the back of her jeans. She found the thing earlier behind a dust-covered storage box in one side of the room, relieved that she finally had something to defend herself with when the situation called for it.

In all honesty, (y/n) didn’t understand why she felt odd towards Jack. She knew how to defend herself, and her hand to hand combat skills weren’t that bad as well. She was a vigilante on the sidelines for the love of all that’s good. There was nothing to be afraid of. But...the man just exuded this uncomfortable aura around him that made her skin crawl. Then again, (y/n) couldn’t just attack him all willy nilly without a plan. The man was most likely armed and one wrong move could lead to her getting injured.

“(y/n), I brought you food.” Jack kneels down to her eye level and places a platter of food on the ground in front of her, only providing a fork for her to use.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Come on, just a couple bites. It would make me happy, sweetheart.” (y/n) so badly wanted to cuss him out for the pet name but decided against it. She stares down at the food in distaste. It looked as if he just chopped up some leftover vegetables in the fridge alongside a small portion of some kind of meat.

“I’ll eat it later—“

“Eat it. Now.”

“Jack, are you forcing me to eat when I just told you I wasn’t hungry? That’s not the way to behave if you want me to like you...”

“N-No! I’m sorry! It’s fine, you can eat whenever you feel like it.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” And with that, he turns his back on her. (y/n) keeps her eyes on his hand as he rummages for the keys in his pocket. Without making too much of a noise she creeps closer, pretending to be enthralled by the collection of her photos hanging on the wall. Once she hears the door knob turn, she purposely pulls the board off the wall and it ends up crashing on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I was just looking at the pictures.” (y/n) fakes a gasp, turning to the man with widened eyes. Jack shakes his head to tell her that it was fine, and goes to collect the board to hook it up again. When he bends down, (y/n) takes the wrench hidden behind her top and brings it down to the back of his head.

The rusted old wrench proved to be not so completely useless as Jack drops to the ground, knocked unconscious from the force of her hit. She didn’t feel an ounce of guilt at all, there wasn’t any blood nor did she whack the back of his head hard enough to cause potential brain damage. So excluding the sizeable bump on his head, he was practically scotch free. Heaving a long sigh, (y/n) takes the keys from Jack’s pocket and unlocks the door to the basement. She didn’t have any of her belongings with her. But then again it wasn’t like she was given a choice to do so, considering she was kidnapped in the confines of her own home. Jack should at least own a phone, the only problem was where he kept the thing. Luckily, she didn’t need to do a lot of searching when a familiar ear-piercing sound of a motorcycle echoes outside. (y/n) perks up, heading to the front door that happened to be carelessly left unlocked.

“Shit, are you are alright?!” Jason comes running up towards (y/n) the moment he sees her figure by the door. He pulls her into a crushing hug, ignoring the noise of protest coming from the young woman. As soon as he releases her, he starts checking from head to toe for any sign of injury.

“I’m fine, very much unscathed as you can see.”

“You can never be too sure.”

“Look, I’m absolutely unharmed. He didn’t do anything to me.” At the mention of her captor, a look of anger washes over Jason.

“Where’s that fucker?”

“Calm down, he’s knocked out in the basement.”

“How…how did you escape?”

“I just want to go home right now, I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

Jason relents with the questions, figured that the girl had enough for one day. He wasn’t oblivious, he knew that was (y/n)’s way of telling him that she didn’t want to talk about the incident anymore. It will eventually come up again sooner or later. With a hand on the small of her back, he nudges her over to where he haphazardly left his bike. All of a sudden a black car comes speeding by and abruptly stops next to them, tires skidding noisily on the road. Jason has half the mind to curse the driver out for being so reckless but the door to the passenger side opens as Selina comes bounding up to her daughter.

“Are you okay?!” She hurriedly lets out, almost suffocating (y/n) in her embrace.

“Let me breathe properly, and I will be.” (y/n) chokes out, tapping her hand on the woman’s shoulder. Selina doesn’t show any signs of letting go, and (y/n) glances at Jason for help. The latter only shrugs in response with a smirk on his face, and she couldn’t help but scoff. “I’m okay, mom.”

“Jack Summers, where is he?” Bruce closes the car door behind him and walks up to the two with a serious look on his face.

“In the basement—wait, dad!” With the amount of strength that she could muster to set herself free from her mother’s hug, she tugs his sleeve to keep him from walking towards the house. Bruce could only look at her with silent confusion. “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing but don’t be too hard on him. The guy’s harmless—“

“Harmless enough to kidnap you from home?”

“Look just…I’ll explain later.” When Bruce continues to look unconvinced, (y/n) heaves a tired sigh. “Dad, please?” She mutters in a small voice.

“Fine.” Bruce abruptly responds, before heading inside the house to presumably take care of Jack.

After a couple more minutes of fussing from Selina, she reluctantly lets her ride back home on Jason’s bike promising to meet up at the manor for dinner to discuss a few important things. Ergo, a certain tracker in someone’s necklace (but she didn’t need to find out about that yet). (y/n) tiredly smiles at the sight of her mother waving a hand at her and she reciprocates the gesture, watching the elder get inside the house in search of Bruce. Jason starts the engine of his bike, handing her a spare helmet for her to wear.

“I don’t think I’ll be working any time soon…not after what happened. A break sounds nice at the moment.” (y/n) belatedly sighs, running a hand through her hair before putting the helmet on.

“Well, in that case…”

“Hmm?” She makes an acknowledging noise from the back of her throat, taking a seat behind the other.

“You know, we never really got to go on our date.” Jason smirks when he hears the other scoff in amusement.

“How about…” (y/n) moves closer towards him, arms winding around his waist. With amusement twinkling in her eyes, she rests her chin on his shoulder, looking up at him. “We stay at home, cuddle, pass out from watching cliche romcoms, then have dinner with the family?”

“Sounds exciting, I’m down.”

#look who came back to life #mega oof #jason todd x reader #Selina Kyle x Daughter!Reader #red hood x reader #reader insert #reader #jason todd #red hood #dc reader insert #dc fic #dc #dc fanfiction #Selina Kyle #bruce wayne

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starscheme · 5 years

Text

With All My Heart

Disclaimer: This is a Stevinel Fanfiction! If you have a problem with this Ship, do not read it. Thank you.

Chapter One: Shifting Feelings?

“It’s done!” Shouted a joyous Spinel as she held up a carefully wrapped sky blue box tied with pink ribbon and pinned with a star. She turned her gaze to Pearl whom was sitting at the counter of the kitchen, watching as she celebrated. “Thanks for helping me to wrap it.”

“Of course,” replied Pearl with a smile. “I’m sure Steven will love it.”

“I hope so,” Spinel whispered happily as she hugged the gift box close to her chest. “I’ll go and look for him. I want to give him his present as soon as possible.” With a wave from Pearl, Spinel swiftly left the house and made her way down to the beach. It was already getting dark. Finishing up her gift had taken all day long.

As Spinel walked along the beach slowly, hugging the gift carefully to herself, she thought about the events that had brought her here today.

Like Pearl, Spinel belonged to Pink Diamond. However, she wasn’t a servant as Pearl was. Spinel was created to be Pinks playmate, to entertain and accompany her when she was sad. Spinel of course, was happy to do this. A garden had been created for just the two of them and Pink would visit quite often at first, but once she was given a Colony, Pink, Pearl, and Spinel left for earth.

Spinel was excited at the thought of a new place to play, but Pink insisted on trying to be serious so that she could prove her worth as a Diamond. Thus, Spinel would keep her silly antics to a minimum when they were around others and Pearl was put in charge of helping Spinel to behave. Because of this, Spinel began to find herself depending on Pearl for many things. She became something like a big sister.

When Pink decided to rebel as Rose Quartz, Pearl and Spinel followed behind her. To Spinel, she was still doing what she was made for, helping her friend. Even when she and Pearl were sworn to secrecy, Spinel felt like everything would be okay so long as Pink was happy. That was her job after all, to make Pink happy.

She didn’t like fighting Gems and she certainly grieved when the war ended with the diamonds final attack, but in the end, Pink was okay and that’s all that mattered. Wasn’t it?

As long as Pink was happy, Spinel felt she was doing her job. However, it was never enough. Pink never seemed truly happy, at least not until she decided to have a child. Pearl was beside herself, but Spinel didn’t truly understand what it meant to have a baby. Not until Steven was born did she realize that her friend, her entire reason for being, was gone forever.

It changed her. Her gem turned upside down and her grief was permanently scarred on her face. Her personality even seemed to shift. She could no longer cover everything with a smile and a laugh. It was harder to smile and the color seemed to drain from her world. Everything was so dark.

That is...until she finally met Steven. She had refused to see him with the others on their first visit, but when she came around and went to meet him, something else changed.

When she held Steven for the very first time and saw his smile, a warmth rushed over her and the light flooded back into her world. This wasn’t Rose, but it was her Gem. This meant that Spinel had a purpose again. It meant that Spinel had a reason to exist once more. That day, she promised Steven in tears that she would never allow anything to make him sad. She would be his friend forever and never leave his side. It was this day that Spinel was celebrating.

There was no way that Steven would remember this, but Spinel held that day very dear. It was the day that she regained something precious and ever since, Steven had become the most important person in her life. He was her favorite person on Earth and everything she did was for his sake. As long as he was smiling, Spinel was content.

With a happy sigh, Spinel thought of Stevens smile, hoping she would see it again once he saw what she had made for him. It wasn’t until she heard familiar laughter that Spinel was shaken from thoughts. It was Steven for sure.

“Oh! ST—-“ just as Spinel was about to call out to her friend, she caught sight of Steven, but he wasn’t alone. Standing beside him and laughing along was his friend Connie. The sight of this stopped Spinel cold.

It’s not as if she hated Connie, but something about the girl rubbed Spinel the wrong way. Ever since Steven met the girl, Spinel had been uncomfortable around her.

“Spinel?” Steven called out after spotting the Gem from the corner of his eye.

Spinel gasped and quickly hid behind a large rock. How long had she been standing there staring at them and why was she hiding now? She just wanted to give Steven his gift. Connie being there shouldn’t stop her from doing that, right?

It’s just...seeing Steven laughing with Connie, more and more recently it made Spinel feel...uneasy.

“Gotcha!!” Shouted Steven, peeking from behind the rock and shocking Spinel from her inner thoughts, causing the Gem to drop the gift she had been holding so tenderly.

“You dropped something,” Connie said apologetically as she leaned down to grab the gift box.

“Don’t touch that!!” Spinel shouted angrily.

Unfortunately for Spinel, her abrupt outburst had startled Connie as she was leaning down to retrieve the package. Connie flinched and attempted to back up, but her heel dig into the sand due to her shift in weight and Connie toppled over, her left knee landing firmly on top of the box, a noticeable crunch being echoed in everyone’s ears.

All three were stunned to silence for a moment before Steven quickly rushed forward and helped Connie up, taking the damaged box in his other hand and glancing at Spinel with sympathetic eyes.

“I-I’m SO sorry, Spinel!” Connie exclaimed nervously. “I-I didn’t mean to—-I was just trying to—-“

Spinel said nothing. Her vision had gotten a bit blurry as she stared in shock at the gift in Stevens hand.

Rationally, Spinel knew Connie was not a bad person. Steven would never hold someone dear like that if they didn’t have a good heart. Still, an anger was bubbling up inside of the Gem and she couldn’t be bothered to hear an apology.

Holding out her hand, Spinel kept her gaze down at the sand, hoping to hide her expression from them. She didn’t want to give Steven something broken like this.

Steven and Connie exchanged concerned glances before he handed the box back to his friend.

“...Spinel, I was just seeing Connie off. Will you wait for a second and I’ll be right back?” Asked Steven hopefully.

Again, Spinel said nothing. A lump had formed in her throat and it was all she could do not to have another outburst. So instead, she nodded slowly and turned her back to the two of them.

It was awkward to leave like this and Connie tried quietly to convince Steven that she should stay and talk with Spinel, but Steven shook his head and reassured Connie that it would be best to speak with Spinel tomorrow. It was late after all and Connie would miss her curfew. At least, that was part of it. Steven also knew that Spinel always had a rough time with Connie, so some time to cool off would be better.

With a defeated sigh, Connie finally agreed to head home, giving Steven a hug goodbye and offering one more apology to Spinel before warping away on Lions back.

Once she was gone, the silence only felt heavier. Steven turned to Spinel now and placed his hand on her shoulder from behind, knowing she didn’t want to be seen.

“She really is sorry. It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” muttered Spinel.

“...I can help you fix it,” offered Steven.

Spinel flinched and turned around now, masking her unsettled feelings with a smile.

“No need. I can handle it myself. We should head back home though. ...it’s dark out already.”

“Are you sure? I can just use my healin—“

“—I’m sure,” interrupted Spinel as she took Stevens hand and turned for the beach house to lead Steven home.

Clearly, Steven wasn’t buying Spinels happy act. She had done this all his life. Though he had tried to bring it up before and make Spinel talk about what was bothering her, she always smiled and said nothing was wrong. He hated it.

However, he didn’t want to upset her any further tonight. He simply squeezed her hand gently and sped up to match her pace so they were walking beside one another rather than Spinel pulling him along.

They walked in silence until they reached the door and Spinel swiftly stored the broken box inside of her Gem. She didn’t want Pearl to see it like that. She would have most likely scolded her for being careless with it.

Luckily though, no one was waiting in the living room when they got inside, giving Spinel a moment of relief. Pearl must have gone to fetch Amethyst at Little Homeworld.

“I’m gonna change for bed,” Steven informed Spinel as he slowly released her hand. “Call you up when I’m done?”

With that, the Gem felt lighter already. A genuine smile laced her lips and she nodded happily. “Of course!”

Spinel had made it a habit to sleep in Stevens bed since he was small. Even while he was living with Greg in that van. He was so small before, of course she was worried that something would happen to him while he slept. When he came to live with them here, she began to watch him sleep. Alongside Pearl of course. Though she would later just curl up beside him in his bed all the same.

As Steven was getting ready for bed, a chime rang out and a beam of light warped Amethyst and Pearl back into the living room. They seemed to be having a conversation, but once Pearl spotted Spinel, they stopped and the graceful Gem leapt towards Spinel with an anticipating smile.

“Spinel! Did Steven li-mph!??”

Spinel had extended her arm and clamped a hand over Pearls mouth with a ‘shush.’

Keeping quiet, Spinel shook her head, hoping Pearl would understand that the gift had not been given just yet.

Though she was startled at first, Pearl nodded her head and waited patiently as Spinel reeled back her arm to herself.

“Steven is getting ready for bed. I’m just waiting until he’s changed his clothes.”

Pearl frowned. “Now Spinel, you know I don’t approve of you sleeping in Stevens bed much anymore.”

“It’s not every night. ...anymore.” Finished Spinel with a blush across her cheeks. Pearl had seen to it that Spinel spend some nights in her own bedroom. For some reason, as Steven got older, Pearl got stricter about Spinel spending time with him. It was not something Spinel was happy about, but it was awfully hard to say no to Pearl. They had been together for so long after all. “...it couldn’t hurt to do it every once in a while, right?”

Pearl looked as though she wanted to argue this further, but simply exhaled in defeat. “Fine, but I don’t want you two up all night again reading or playing that card game. Remember, Steven needs his sleep.”

“I’m aware. ...but in my defense, it was a brand new game so it took us a little longer to learn the rules.”

Pearl growled in her throat and frowned. Which Spinel usually took to mean that arguing would only make Pearl angry.

“Spinel! I’m all done!” Called out Steven from his bedroom up the stairs.

“Goodnight, guys,” Spinel said quickly before turning on her heel and dashing up the stairs like a puppy that had just been called to its master. There was just nothing Spinel liked more than being with Steven.

When she got up the stairs, she looked around the room, but found that Steven wasn’t there. Confused at first, Spinel took a few more steps into the room until she was met with a something soft and sweet against the tip of her nose.

“Gotcha,” Steven laughed, floating slowly back to the floor. He had been hovering just above Spinel to surprise her, hoping to cheer her up a little with one of her favorite treats. He had tapped the large marshmallow to the tip of her nose to get her attention.

Spinels eyes lit up and she opened her mouth expectedly. With another light laugh, Steven placed the marshmallow gently into her mouth, feeling a sense of relief as he watched Spinel enjoy her snack so cheerfully.

“Only one though.” Steven insisted, knowing full well that she was sure to ask for more.

Looking slightly disappointed, Spinel swallowed her treat and nodded her head, “fine. Thank you, Steven.”

Though Spinel was still upset that she couldn’t give Steven his gift right away, the day hadn’t been a total failure. After all, any time she got to spend with Steven was enough for her.

Steven smiled at Spinel before yawning a bit. He then turned for his bed and get himself under the blanket. He had spent most of the day out with Connie and was actually pretty tired.

Spinel closed her eyes for a moment and changed her attire in a flash of light. Now wearing a pink shirt and pajama pants, she was ready for bed as well. The Gem jumped onto the bed, causing Steven to bounce a little, warning a laugh from the both of them.

Steven watched as Spinel got herself under the blankets. He had gotten so used to Spinel sleeping beside him that it felt off whenever Pearl would make her sleep elsewhere. The bed was too big without her it seemed.

Once Spinel got comfortable beneath the blankets, she noticed Steven staring down at her and her heart thumped against her chest to her surprise.

“Wh...what is it?” She asked bashfully, more confused over the pang in her chest than his gaze on her.

It wasn’t until Spinel spoke up that Steven even realized he had been staring. With a nervous flinch, he smiled awkwardly and looked away, feeling his cheeks begin to burn.

“N-nothing. Sorry. I was just uh...thinking about something.”

An embarrassing silence fell between them now and Spinel didn’t like it. This was supposed to be like any other night. Had she done something wrong? Perhaps Steven was still upset that she had raised her voice at Connie earlier.

“You should get to sleep,” tried Spinel, holding out her arms with a smile.

Steven blushed even further, looking down at her as she waited for him to lean down into her arms.

“You know, I’m a lot bigger now...” he replied before clearing his throat a little.

Spinels smile faded quickly. Clearly dejected, she brought her arms back to herself and tried to smile as is if to shrug it off.

“Oh, of course. I just thought you might...”

As her voice trailed off Steven took in a deep breath and cleared his throat once more, holding out his arms this time, his eyes fixed on the blanket to keep from meeting Spinels gaze. This was a little embarrassing now that he wasn’t so small.

Spinel perked up almost at once, leaning forward quickly and snuggling against Stevens chest with a smile. Perhaps he wasn’t angry with her after all.

Seeing Spinel cheered up once again, Steven smiled and sighed in defeat. Spinels moods always shifted so quickly and everything showed on her face. He just couldn’t win against her when she seemed disappointed or sad. Laying himself down a little more, he hugged her thin frame, resting his head just above hers on the pillow and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight Spinel...” breathed Steven quietly.

“Goodnight...Steven,” Spinel whispered in reply. Today hadn’t gone as planned at all. Hopefully she could get Stevens gift fixed quickly and try again. After all, it was something very special to her and she wanted him to have it. However, thinking about fixing the present brought her mind back to seeing Connie and Steven together. The image brought another strange feeling in her chest. More painful this time. It’s not like she hadn’t felt this before. The past year or so, it’s how she always felt when Connie was around Steven. It’s why being around the girl was so uncomfortable for her. She didn’t like the pain in her gut and she began to find...that she didn’t much like Steven smiling at Connie the way he did. These feelings...Spinel hated it. She wasn’t supposed to be like this. Steven cared about Connie and Steven was her friend. So that meant that Spinel should like Connie as well, right? Spinel didn’t want to be a bad friend.

Hoping to make the painful feeling disappear, Spinel snuggled in closer to Steven and closed her eyes tight. He always made her feel better. He always made everything heavy feel light again. Everything would be okay...so long as Steven was here with her. She was sure of it.

A/N: Thank you all for reading Chapter One. The next chapter will be out soon. You can follow the tag on tumblr or follow the story on Fanfiction.net

My username is the same on both platforms.

#steven universe #su #with all my heart #chapter one #stevinel #spinel #au spinel #cg spinel #steven and spinel #fan fiction

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narelleart · 3 years

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Book Review: “Why Fish Don’t Exist” by Lulu Miller

I know this isn’t really I thing I do, but I had a lot of feelings about this book so I felt the need to share them somewhere.

I do not recommend this book.

Or at least, not to anyone with any knowledge or interest in taxonomy, cladistics, or ichthyology.

If you want to read a book about personal growth and overcoming loss, and don’t care about scientific validity (everything is romanticized and interpreted to fit a narrative), this is a reasonably entertaining read.

I should also note though: Trigger warnings for this book include suicide and a fairly in-depth discussion of eugenics in America. (Neither are discussed in the review below though, just wanted to point them out for anyone that might try to read it anyways because both were surprises when they came up.)

I tried to keep things pretty vague, but there may be some amount of spoilers below the cut. It’s not a super organized review and probably longer than necessary, sorry, but I had a lot of feelings so trimming it down to a few main points was tough.

----------

So the book - its marketing implies its a lot more about David Starr Jordan, father of North American Ichthyology, than it is. There is certainly a substantial part of the book dedicated to recounting his life, but as I alluded to above, everything is filtered through the lens of the story the author wants his life to be. It is unclear how much of the biography is fact and how much is fiction because of this. There are passages where she imagines what Jordan thinks that are presented alongside what should be the actual facts of the situation. Its all muddled together.

The author explores Jordan’s life in the making of the book to try to find answers to fix the problems in her own life, so every glimpse we get of Jordan is through the perspective she is forcing. The book is really about her, all discussion of Jordan is a vehicle for her own story. In the beginning of the book, when she thinks his writings somehow hold the key to solving her own personal struggles, he’s idolized and romanticized. When she realizes what she’s looking for isn’t there, she turns on him and chooses only then to share the (genuinely horrible!) aspects of his life that she must have already come across in her research. But they didn’t fit her narrative until she felt scorned by his inability to fix her life.

The title of the book isn’t addressed at all until the very end, and is only brought up as a “Gotcha!” to Jordan, to give the author some smug satisfaction that on some level his life’s work is invalidated by newer science. (Though not really, she just doesn’t understand cladistics.) To make her feel better for idolizing what turned out to be a kinda terrible person (or rather perhaps to feel better about feeling betrayed by a person from history for not holding the magic key to improving her life).

BUT! She has no understanding of taxonomy, of cladistics, and so blows this and other topics way out of proportion and tries to turn them into transcendental epiphanies that all humans must experience to better themselves or something. Every time she describes something about these sciences, she completely misunderstands how any of it works, and slaps on flowery prose to try to paint it into whatever her narrative of the moment is. It is, frankly, infuriating to read. Yes, a taxonomist seeing their life’s work in a jumble on the floor would be horrifying, but do you really think they couldn’t visually identify species they thoroughly examined every inch of, externally and internally, in order to describe? And that they wouldn’t have notes to check against? Ridiculous.

The book tackles interesting topics for sure, but it leaves me wishing I’d just read the works she referenced instead. She used David Starr Jordan’s autobiographies to write her book and quotes them frequently. She seems to have only really referenced the book “Naming Nature” by Carol Kaesuk Yoon to learn anything about cladistics (and didn’t understand anything beyond the point she thought it made for her), which she also quoted extensively. The autobiographical inserts of Miller’s life included were interesting enough, but nothing I personally would have wanted to seek out were they separated from the topics I am interested in (that she so thoroughly muddled).

Ultimately, the mistreatment of serious topics in science (forcing them into philosophical truths based on a horrible misunderstanding of the actual science) and the cringey romanticized reimagining of a historical figure (in the beginning, before he betrayed her by being a human being and not some savior figure) made me angry. Perhaps offended? Its clear by the end of the book that David Starr Jordan held some horrible beliefs that are very much worthy of criticism and more, not denying that or anything, but before I arrived to the part of the book where she revealed his less than holy history, I was exceptionally uncomfortable by how she wrote about someone that was a real live person. Not a character. Not a Jesus figure. A dude, who just lived his life. Everything was romanticized, even his mustache. She has a weird thing about describing his “virile tusks” that was super uncomfortable to read every time it came up.

This book was purchased for me as a gift, and it seemed like an excellent choice. The description implied it would be a book about David Starr Jordan. The title wasn’t referenced in the description, so it made for a tantalizing hook to get me invested. I am familiar with cladistics, so I knew what it was alluding to, but I was curious how it would be related to Jordan and be important enough to his life to make the title. Nothing about what the book advertises itself as is accurate, except the tagline - “a story of loss, love, and the hidden order of life.” Its a book that is half fiction by the time the author is done spinning every bit of information she gets a hold of, that follows her loss, love, and imagined secrets to life.

#book review #if you arent familiar with cladistics and want to know why fish dont exist #or as i prefer to put it why all vertebrates are fish #shoot me an ask or something id be happy to explain #i would definitely not read this book to have that answered #it does a terrible job of addressing the concept #and as i mentioned repeatedly the author really doesnt understand

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theatresweetheart · 5 years

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Desperate Measures [ Finale ]

Fandoms: Sanders Sides, G/t

Warnings: Swearing, over-exhaustion, depressive thoughts, traumatic flashbacks, brief injury mention, fainting. (If I missed something, please let me know!)

Pairings: Romantic/Parental Logicality, Platonic Logince, Platonic TLAMP

Word Count: 2960 words

Taglist: @isle-of-gold @anonymous-bean @sandersships @kaytikitty @picklesandbeyond @minty4green

Chapter Navigation: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Epilogue.

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

It was an odd scenario, he could say that, but to know that this was possibly his chance to get home was what was giving him peace.

Logan cleared his throat after a moment, gaining both Roman and Thomas’s attention again. “I must ask, how long will I be in your company? Even if you do plan to assist me in getting home.”

The two others shared a look, almost unsure of how to proceed from here. Looks like the plan hadn’t really been thought all the way out and Logan’s safety may have been the main priority.

He was…mildly flattered, to say the least.

“We were sort of leaving that up to you,” Thomas said, clasping his hands together, almost wringing them. “We’d be more than willing to host you. Help you replenish your strength and offer some rest and time to recuperate.”

They were offering to give him a safe—so far—place to stay the night? It was almost unheard of. The fact that they were being so kind as to allow him to stay without really knowing anything about.

For all they knew, Logan could be lying about having a family waiting for him.

While that wouldn’t really do him any good except get him unwanted pity, he hadn’t exactly given them a reason to doubt him.

Nor a reason to trust him, either.

If he were truly being honest with himself, he was exhausted. So much had been happening in these past months and Logan had hardly had a moment of peace to himself. There was always something happening, something to think about, someone to snark back at. Something to push or throw. Logan had spent a lot of his downtime during the night planning. He slept, yes, but there was always something greater to be doing.

Always something more.

Always trying to find a way to escape without creating too much of a stir.

He was exhausted from the long nights staying up, sleepless while trying to find another way to annoy the shopkeeper into letting him go. Into finally getting so fed up with his childish shenanigans that they would have opened the cage and let him find his way back home.

Logan had never been so lucky.

Not until now.

To find now that he could have peace of mind and possibly get some sleep that would replenish what little strength he had left. It was necessary. The longer he went without sleep, the worse off he would be, Logan had learned this from many all-nighters. Which never stopped him from pulling them. Never once did he stop. Not when he needed to do something.

While the other borrowers that had been in the cage with him had always been so willing to go to sleep at decent times of the night, Logan stayed up.

The young woman that had been with him a couple weeks prior had tried to soothe him. To get him to go and lay down with her, if not for the coupling, then for her own comfort. She had been uncomfortably touchy, especially when she was trying to get something from him.

He would be sitting by himself late into the night and suddenly her hands would appear on his shoulders—which had successfully startled him a few times—and she would let her hands rub into them, trying to ease the tension that he had built up over the months.

Logan had come to learn that women preferred when a male was around, as that stronger presence would make them feel safer.

While he had understood initially that having another person near you could comfort you in times of need, there were only two people that were able to comfort him. The young woman, as kind and naive as she had been, was not one of them.

“A night here would be appreciated,” Logan finally spoke his mind, shaking the unwanted thoughts away, his eyes glanced between Roman and the other borrower again, his weariness finally showing through the colder facade. The action was trusting and such an action truly revealed what Logan was underneath the indifferent mask; a young man that was tired of the world’s constant demeaning. A man that wanted nothing more than to get back home. “If it really isn’t too much trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Roman’s voice was softer than it had been, “it would be no trouble at all. I can get some soft cloths together for you.” As the human moved to stand, he seemed to pause for a moment and reconsidered, offering a small—almost reassuring—grin over his shoulder. “I know this isn’t really ideal, for anyone really, but thank you for at least a little bit of your trust.”

And just like that, Roman left without giving Logan a chance to even register what he had said.

So, the bespectacled borrower stood there a moment looking like he wanted to formulate a coherent sentence. When that failed, he instead turned his attention to the other borrower, who had his hands tucked into his pockets comfortably.

“I know he can be a bit much but he means well,” Thomas spoke up, a soft look on his features. Understanding and trusting. “His heart really is in the right place.”

“How did you know I was in that pet shop?”

While the question may have seemed a bit brash and out of the blue, Logan couldn’t say that he wasn’t interested.

“I wasn’t there,” he said, offering a small shrug of his shoulders, taking the sudden question in stride. “I remember Roman coming back from classes one afternoon ranting about someone like me. He had been talking so fast that I hardly had time to really understand what he was talking about. For a bit there, I thought he had found someone.” He grinned, laughing a bit as if lost in a memory unseen to Logan. “Went on like that for a good ten minutes before I was able to manage to say anything to him. It didn’t take long before he said that there was another like me, except one that had been caught. Roman said he had overheard some other students talking about you in the hallways.”

The thought made Logan shudder, in all honesty.

Thomas continued after a brief pause. “So, he went to the pet shop after to see if the rumours were true and lo and behold, there you were with another.”

“Arthur,” Logan stated after a moment. “His name was Arthur.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, a genuine look crossed his features. “That you had to go through all of that at all.”

Logan shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “It really wasn’t that bad.”

Except it was. Sometimes worse than one could imagine. To be mocked daily for being caught or for how small he was. All those rude remarks came flooding back and he winced as if he had been physically hit.

He tried so hard not to let it impact him, but sometimes, in the dead of the night, the harsh words were all he could hear.

“Can’t believe they actually caught one. Look at it. Little pest.”

“They should just put the poor thing out of its misery. Not like it has a life to live anyways.”

“Borrowers don’t have families. It’s just an excuse to make people pity them.”

“Vermin like you should be exterminated.”

“I bet there’s a cat out there that’s already gotten to your family. You’re better off here anyways, normal people are probably much better company.”

Logan knew not to take any of those words seriously, but it was sickening to know that there were humans out in the world that would kill a borrower if they were to get the opportunity.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder suddenly, Logan gasped and jolted away from him. Blinded by the fear of his memories.

His gaze drifted downwards to his forearms and he could see bruises littering them. The pain in his left shoulder when he had been handled so carelessly by children and adults alike. The tight grasp of a child who didn’t understand how fragile his body was compared to the strength in just their hands. Or the knowledge of the power that the adults had over him, that had used that over him.

“I finally gotcha, ya little runt,” the janitor’s voice echoed loudly in his head like bells, a laugh that could have shattered his eardrums followed. “Took me long enough, huh? You were a tough catch. Shame I wasn’t able to get the other two, but I s’pose you’ll have to do.”

Logan could hear the voice, shaking him to his core. The way it rumbled through his bones.

“Though, I s’pose just one of you will still be a steep price for any buyer.”

When he looked up, Logan wasn’t in a new place anymore. He was back in that damned cage, green eyes staring back at him looking smug and gleeful. He felt his heart sink.

His hands were shaking, he realized belatedly.

No, he was shaking all over, it wasn’t just his hands.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re alright,” the gentle voice of the other borrower broke through into Logan’s conscious and he looked up to him, but he wasn’t really looking to see him. “You’re not there anymore. You’re with me. You’re safe.”

It took a moment of fighting with his consciousness to really register that he was safe. He was safe for the first time in a very long time.

It still didn’t feel real.

When Thomas reached out this time, Logan didn’t flinch away and was instead slightly more relaxed when he felt the warm touch of another person his size. After being around humans for so long, being with one of his own kind was refreshing.

When he looked back down to his arms, the bruises were non-existent. His skin was clean, save for the scars that lined his forearms from his first failed escape attempt.

His hand brushed down the length of his forearm, feeling the scarred skin. It was almost a reassurance. There was no pain when he touched it, so the bruises must have been some sort of hallucination. Maybe he was overtired. He was probably overtired.

Logan then shook himself, before clearing his throat. “I—I apologize for that, I seemed to have had a relapse.”

“That’s okay,” came the gentle response, “you’re allowed to feel, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

He hadn’t known that freedom in the past six months. If Logan had shown any emotion whatsoever to a human captor, he would have been punished for it. He had only ever safe comfortable showing emotion around Patton and Virgil because no matter what, they were always there. Patton with a caring touch and Virgil, while so young, trying to assist in any way he could.

The other sighed quietly. “I think you staying the night is a good idea,” he said after a moment, taking a step back from Logan, not wanting to overwhelm him with too much attention at once. “It would probably help you really understand that you’re going home.”

Home.

Logan finally got to go home.

It was then that everything he refused to feel flooded forwards and water immediately brimmed his eyes. He laughed hoarsely—a helpless noise between joy and overwhelming emotion—after a moment, pulling his glasses off to rub at the wetness. He refused to let any tears fall, but the true relief was there. It was no longer a dream to see them again, Logan had that chance. The chance that he had been waiting six months for.

Almost as if Thomas could feel it, he stepped closer again but this time was a bit more startled to find Logan reaching out and grabbing onto him. Physical displays of gratitude were not something he was used to, but he needed it. He needed that sort of reassuring touch.

“You’re alright,” he soothed him, just as Logan’s hands tightened in the back of his shirt, his shaking began to increase as everything really did register with him. It was hard to believe, in all honesty.

Six months of suffering were over because of a human that actually seemed to genuinely care. A human that had his heart in the right place, even if his motives were a bit odd.

“Breathe with me, okay?” He started off, sinking to his knees as Logan slowly began to drag him down. “In for four seconds, hold for seven and out for eight. I can count with you, if you’d like.”

It took a moment, but Logan was nodding. His mind was in a frenzy and counting himself was not going to help.

“Stop throwing things, Logan, for God’s sake. You’re only going to drive more people away like that.”

“You tell me that as if I don’t know it,” he had snarled back, a sharp glare over his shoulder. “I want to go home.”

The shopkeeper sighed, shaking their head. “This is your home. At least, until someone comes along and actually wants you.”

“No. This hellhole is not my home.” He had paused at that, sharing a look with the shopkeeper standing above him, watching him between the bars of the metal cage, looking weary. “I want out of this cage. I want out of this pet shop. I want to be treated like a fucking person. Do you understand me?”

“You’re not a person, Logan,” they had said back. The sentence had winded him as if he hadn’t expected those words to come out. It had been a sharp and cold reminder of his future if he didn’t find a way out of this mess. “You’re a borrower and everyone knows that a borrower is not a person.”

“You’re safe,” Thomas’s voice shattered the memory that had demanded all of his attention.

He was far too tired for this.

Logan kept listening to the steady counting, the reassuring words. It almost made him feel better, hearing such a steady rhythm. Something he could predict and follow, without a surprise in the mix. The exhaustion began to settle in like a heavy blanket. It weighed over his shoulders, dragging him further down and he allowed himself to be held. At the moment, he could have cared less that he was with a stranger, he just needed to sleep.

After a few more rounds of slow and soft counting, Logan was drifting off—without meaning to, of course—and the young man slumped fully into the other borrower’s arms, who was then shifting his weight to hold Logan a bit more steadily, without the worry of him slipping and waking up again.

He didn’t deserve that. If this was the most sleep he had gotten in a while, there was no reason to wake him up. Certainly not by accident. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

It was a sight that hurt his heart, he admitted. Seeing the male so emotionally and physically exhausted. Roman had made the right call—of course he had—to get Logan out of that place, especially if this was the aftermath. How long had he been separated from his family? It probably would have been a question to ask before he had passed out, but stuff like that could wait until the morning.

As soon as he was sure Logan was out like a light, Thomas was able to stop his counting. But now he found himself in a bit more of a position.

This wasn’t the first time he had had someone fall asleep on him, but the other times he had been somewhat alright with disturbing them, even if for a little bit. Logan was a different case altogether. It didn’t exactly seem as though he slept. At least, not a lot.

Possibly not enough.

It was easy to believe that being stuck in a pet shop for God knows how long would leave someone sleep deprived and mentally scarred.

A couple minutes later and there were the telltale sounds of a human returning to the room. Though, before Thomas could even say a warning, Roman was already speaking.

“Alright, so I found some—”

“Shh!” The hush was certainly a bit sharper than he meant it to be, but it was enough to gain Roman’s attention. Without saying anything, he was then motioning to Logan, who was now fast asleep against him.

It took a moment before he realized what was wrong before it hit him. ‘Oh,’ he quietly mouthed back to the borrower who had apparently been dubbed a safe enough person to fall asleep on, stranger or not.

It wasn’t hard to get to the table without making a noise, but there was the worry of accidentally nudging it and causing the table to shake.

‘Tired?’

Thomas nodded. This was probably the most exhausted he had seen someone his own size before. The way Logan had just seemed so ready to slump over and let his exhaustion take control. It was discouraging.

Whatever he had been through had taken more of a toll on him than they had been led to believe at first. Especially with how distant Logan seemed to be—for the most part, at least.

It also proved to him how much better a person Roman was compared to a lot of other people.

The others he had managed to help since the two of them had started working in tandem had been weary all the same, but not to the point where they gave up on consciousness. Like this, there was only so much they could do to help him, but there was still hope.

There always was.

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inactiive-shit · 4 years

Text

Eventually

Masterlist

Sanders Sides Fic

Warnings: implied rough past

Pairing: Logince

Words: 2,121

~~~~~

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” were the words Roman had uttered at the start of the night with a GameCube controller in hand, ready for a relaxing, easy win at a game that no one had ever beat him at. Logan had said, “Please. I was raised on Mario Kart. You wish you could beat me,” and aimed a rare smile just short of vicious at Roman. It had made his heart speed up and stumble, but he had shoved that whole mess back and grinned back as best he could before selecting a character.

But that had been a couple hours ago. Now, Roman finds himself the sore loser of a game that he thought he had in the bag. “Double or nothing!” he declares, throwing up his hand and almost losing his controller.

“We have not bet anything,” Logan says, but he doesn’t seem the least bit confused by Roman’s assertion. He leans back in the bean bag chair (he insisted he hated it but he had let Roman talk him into buying it, so really, who was the liar?) and smirks in that damn infuriating way that he always has. “But if you would like to figuratively lose more of your dignity, the choice is yours.”

Roman gasps in outrage and immediately selects his best character: Princess Daisy. “Oh, it is on like Donkey Kong,” he mutters. Logan snorts and selects his own favorite: Luigi. Not the worst choice he could make, but to ever imagine that Luigi could match Daisy in any way was, is, and always will be ludicrous.

“Which track?”

“It’s time to taste the rainbow,” Roman says. It’s his secret weapon, but when he was young he would play Rainbow Road for hours, over and over again. He can do this in his sleep.

“I don’t - ah. Rainbow Road,” Logan says. “Interesting choice.” He settles into his seat as Lakitu drops down and the countdown begins. He looks far too smug for someone who is about to be dropped a couple steps down the totem pole, but Roman figures that will be rectified shortly. He doesn’t need to rub his imminent win in Logan’s face.

“Get ready to eat my dust,” Roman snarks anyway. He accelerates at the perfect moment and gets that extra boost of speed, but so does Logan. They are side by side for first place but it won’t keep up for too long. They speed around the bends like there’s no tomorrow, and for Logan’s Luigi, there isn’t. Roman swervs his car to the side and hits Logan. They bounce apart, but Logan flies off the track and has to be retrieved by Lakitu.

“Fuck you!” Logans exclaims, mashing the buttons on his controller despite knowing it won’t get him anywhere faster. Roman cackles and hits a speed boost, leaving Logan as far behind as he can. Logan continues to cuss as he finally gets dropped back on the track and promptly gets hit by a shell. Roman starts laughing so hard he almost drives over the edge of the road. He finishes the first lap in first place while Logan is still slowly working his way up the ranks from where he’d fallen to fifth.

Roman lets his eyes flit back and forth from his half of the screen to Logan’s, keeping a careful eye on where all the NPCs and his competition are. It’s only this that keeps Roman alive to the third lap. He sees when Logan hits an Item Box and gets a Spiny Blue Shell. As soon as he deploys it, Roman stops driving just long enough to be passed up by the Bowser in second place. The shell Logan threw takes him out and lets Roman begin his final lap still in first place with Logan muttering angrily under his breath.

“Get ready to taste defeat, nerd,” Roman says, smirking. Logan doesn’t respond, but he does hunch over his controller even more, eyes laser focused on the screen.

Logan climbs the ranks as they race toward the finish line, and he hits a speed boost that Roman missed. Suddenly, he’s feeling a lot less secure in his win. In the end, though, it doesn’t matter. He makes it barely a second before Logan does and nearly throws his controller down in his sheer excitement over winning.

“Fuck!” Logan exclaims. “You are a dirty cheater.” He is pouting, as much as he might say he’s above such juvenile expressions. Roman laughs outright at him.

“I am a squeaky clean winner, and-” He cuts off and hits Logan’s hand out of the air as it nears him. Logan flinches back, eyes wide and obviously stung. He pulls his hand to his chest, cradling it and Roman realizes that he hadn’t really softened his blow at all when Logan had most likely just been trying to be friendly.

“Shit,” Roman says, face flooding with heat while Logan stares at him, hurt. “I am so sorry, Logan. I didn’t even think, I’m-” He forces himself to stop talking. He’s not going to make any sense if he just keeps going without knowing what he’s trying to get across first.

“Maybe I should go,” Logan says stiffly, setting his control on the ground. It’s a ridiculous thing to say because Logan lives here, too, they’re roommates but it makes Roman’s heart stutter and stop for all the wrong reasons for just a second.

“No, no, please,” he says desperately. “That was on me, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just wasn’t expecting it. I was-I was surprised.” He holds Logan’s eyes, as uncomfortable and embarrassed as he feels because he knows it means a lot to Logan when someone will look him in the eyes.

“I do not believe that was the only problem,” Logan says slowly. He examines Roman intently. “If you wish to explain what the real problem is, I am more than willing to listen and talk. If not, I will be going on a walk. The choice is yours.” He waits for a moment.

“I…” Roman hesitates, flounders. He can feel the heat in his cheeks increasing. “My family was never...never the touchy-feely type,” he offers haltingly. “In fact, it was quite the opposite. And you’ve seen my brother. We were never very...nice to each other. I’m not quite used to...friendly contact.” Roman hopes that is sufficient enough for Logan to drop the topic, for Roman to change the subject before he gets so embarrassed that he melts into a puddle of unattractive goo or Logan makes some scathing remark as he is so wont to do and Roman has to deal with this moment of vulnerability being betrayed and crushed as has been the case so many times before.

Though he can’t help but feel that here and now it might be a deserved reaction.

“Oh,” Logan says, looking surprised then regretful. Roman doesn’t know how to explain why that reaction jolts him. “You act so much like my brothers that I just assumed-well. That is an oversight on my part. I apologize, Roman, for not considering that you may be comfortable with a different level of physical contact than I am. I will adjust my behavior to accommodate you, if you wish to touch less.”

“I don’t want to bother you,” Roman starts. He’s thoroughly surprised but that is not the priority and neither is the way his heart stutters with every word Logan says. It is not relevant to this conversation (but he can’t help but hope that it might be relevant to them eventually). “You shouldn’t have to-”

“Nonsense,” Logan says. He ignores Roman when he tries to speak again and says, “You are not bothering or inconveniencing me at all. I like to know how to make my friends comfortable, and for you, if that means you would like us to maintain a less tactile relationship, that is fine. You are under no obligation to me to be, as you put it, touchy-feely, for any reason. Or to anyone else, for that matter.” Logan smiles one of his rare, genuine smiles. Roman feels his breath catch in his throat at the look, but just as quickly as it’s there it’s gone. “Okay?” he asks quietly.

“Uh, yeah, Specs. I gotcha. Thanks.” Roman drops his hand back to the controller in his lap. He plucks nervously at the button for a moment before picking it up. “Again?” he asks softly.

“Of course,” Logan says. “But this time it will be you who eats my figurative dust.” Logan eases himself back into the bean bag chair and Roman gets so distracted by watching him relax so fully and replaying all the things he just said in his head that he misses the start of the race and is immediately off to a disadvantage. He laughs though, and Logan does too.

They banter for the rest of the night, and it does not matter to Roman that he does not win another race. Logan doesn’t mention that it is two a.m. and that they have classes the next day and Roman knows they will both probably sleep through their alarms.

“I will see you in the morning,” Logan says, nodding to Roman. He places the controllers carefully back where they go in the entertainment center and stretches, shirt lifting to reveal a thin strip of his stomach. Roman blushes and looks away hurriedly, but he clears his throat as Logan starts to walk away. They are only standing a couple feet apart, and Roman feels oddly present. Maybe it’s the exhaustion talking or maybe it is that Logan saw him and did not look away, but there is something Roman has to say that he can’t stop from coming out.

“Hey, Lo?” he says.

“Yes, Roman?”

“I think I’d like to be able to touch you,” he says. He can’t quite meet his eyes this time, so he focuses on Logan’s lips instead. “I like you and-and I really think I’d like to kiss you.”

“I like you, too,” Logan says, and those lips twist into a tiny, almost invisible smile. “And I’d like to kiss you, if it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. You do not have to push yourself for me.”

“Oh,” Roman says faintly, but still he takes one step closer so that he is in Logan’s space. Logan is barely taller, but it’s just enough that Roman has to tilt his head a little to look into his eyes, this close. “I’m not, I promise. Just once…?”

Logan slowly closes the small distance between them, giving Roman every opportunity he could ever want to say no, to back out, to realize that he was not ready for a kiss yet. But it’s something he has wanted for so long, wanted and not quite believed he could get, and he does not pull away. He lifts to his toes and meets Logan’s lips with a chaste kiss that cannot last the eternity that it feels like. Roman smiles at him when they pull away.

“Maybe,” he says quietly, “we can do that again, eventually.”

“I would really like that,” Logan says. He pauses and Roman can see the gears turning in his head, the nerd. “Perhaps, if you wish, I could assist you in becoming more comfortable with touching. Only if you want.”

“I think I’d really like that.” Roman says the words, but he’s not expecting Logan to hook his pinkie around Roman’s in the sweetest expression of emotion he’s ever experienced. It sends a jolt of fireworks up his arm, and it’s scary but sort of pleasant. He definitely does like it.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Logan says. He moves slowly and rests his forehead against Roman’s for just a second. “Good night, Roman. I hope your dreams are deserving of you.”

“Night, Lo,” Roman echoes and they go to their separate rooms. Roman is sure that in the morning they will talk more and possibly even hold hands if he wants to, but for now he is still riding the high of being touched so tenderly, of being so seen, of getting so much from someone he has always wanted. It is with a smile that Roman falls asleep that night, and with a smile that he greets the next day, and with a smile that he and Logan brush hands through breakfast and talk about them instead of going to class. It is with a smile that Roman will eventually hold hands and kiss and hug Logan, and eventually, it will not be such a feat. But for the next day, Roman smiles and knows that eventually can wait.

#sanders sides #ts logan sanders #ts roman sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts logan #ts roman #ts logic #ts creativity #fanfic #fic #logince #eventually #my writing

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ilcaeryx · 4 years

Text

Tenacity: Chapter 10 - Kingpin [Bakugou Katsuki/Reader]

SUMMARY: You should not have challenged Katsuki to a snowball fight. What did you expect? To win? LUL

TAGS: Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, reader-insert, comfort, soft, fluff, romance, reader being a crazy bitch, snowball fight, cheesy

NOTES: Part of the Tenacity reader-insert compilation! I had fun writing this.

Taking a shortcut through the still and untouched forest sucked, Katsuki veering off from your usual route into it without a word. Like a baby duck struggling after mama duck, you followed his literal footsteps. You bounced from leg to leg, fitting your boot inside the larger imprints he left behind. Snow had fallen during the night, evident by everything being covered in white powder. It could have been the secret palace of a drug lord, snow adorning the branches and dead vegetation causing gentle billows beneath the matte glow.

“Do we have to walk through the snow? We could’ve taken the normal way,” you complained, glaring down at your burning thighs. Even with Katsuki paving the way, it was quite the workout.

“Why are you complaining?” Katsuki said, white breath trailing after him as if he were a dragon exhaling smoke. He shuffled through the thick snow layer with powerful strides and arms reinforcing the motions. “You’re not the one plowing the way.”

His dumb answer fired you up. In short succession, you trampled into the indentations until he was half a step ahead. You smacked his behind with whatever force you could muster, the glove softening the slap. “I don’t care, you brute. This is a workout routine I did not want.”

Katsuki had the nerve to send you an indignant glare over his shoulder, nose bridge scrunched. “Don’t follow next time then, dumbass.”

“You know that’s not an option.”

If he went somewhere, you’d tread in his footsteps regardless of where you would end up. Whether he knew this or not, you would never let him out of sight. As long as his back was visible, you’d keep moving towards it.

“Everything’s a choice, quit bitching.” Katsuki grasped a low-hanging branch obstructing the way and bent it to the side as he continued onwards. He waited until you were past it to release it, branch swooping to its original position. Without breaking a sweat, he kept going.

Your lungs sparkled with pain, every inhalation bringing raw, crispy air through your airways. You hid your mouth and nose beneath your winter jacket’s collar, alleviating the pain by breathing out hot air.

Katsuki hadn’t noticed that you had stopped, so you scooped up snow and hardened it between your fingerless mittens into a nice ball. Aiming carefully, you threw it and hit him square between the shoulders. It left traces of white on his black double-breasted jacket. He stopped in his tracks and ditched his hands into his pockets.

“Stop walking so fast,” you said, voice muffled behind cloth. “I’m about to die.”

He turned around, his cheeks reddened from the cold. “Power through it.”

You bent down and created yet another snowball, padding it within your palms.

“If you throw that, I’ll return the favour,” Katsuki warned, eyebrows shooting up in a quick display of aggression.

Yeah, yeah… Whatever you say, blondie. You’re bluffing, you thought. He genuinely did use everything at his disposal whenever he felt someone challenged him, including you, so you could be on thin ice depending on his mood.

“Your aim is trash,” you outright stated in a matter-of-fact tone, deadpanning through the cockiness inside you.

Once he started moving towards you, you instantly regretted everything and screamed, because his full-toothed grin and low posture exuded confidence.

Fuck this shit, he was going to kick your ass to outer space. You backtracked your footsteps in a frantic dash, ducking beneath branches and sliding across icy parts.

“Why are you running?” he bellowed. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you! Die!”

His taunts caused your screaming to increase in pitch and you didn’t turn around to see whether it amused him or not. This game made you feel thrill and actual fear.

“Fight, Y/N! Fight me, you coward!”

“NO!” Your screaming caught in your throat as your body jerked backwards, reflexes trying to keep you upright. You flailed around and hit the ground, fall broken by your thick jacket.

The crunchiness of footsteps ceased and a pair appeared in your field of view. Katsuki slid down onto his knees and snatched your hands, joining them behind your back in an automatic, trained movement.

“Gotcha.”

“I’m sorry!” you pleaded through your nervous laughter, thrashing your arms against his solid grip. It didn’t hurt but you wouldn’t get away without his approval.

“I’m sure you are.”

The pressure from your wrists eased and you drew your arms forward, pressure replaced by him collapsing his upper body over your back, your bodies forming a T. You groaned when he put one elbow on your lower back. Your breathing was somewhat constrained.

“Heavy!” you complained, clumsily hitting him with an open hand on his side.

Katsuki barked out a laugh. “Should’ve thought of that before you hit me with a snowball, lightweight.”

You heard him dig around in the snow behind you. His glove presented a handful in front of you and you attempted to shield your exposed neckline with your arms.

“Sucker,” he said and forced his hand between your chest-bone and shirt, snow spreading across your chest and into your bra. You shrieked in surprise from the cold and you instinctively brought your hands up to dig out the snow. That earned you another fistful in the nape, Katsuki pressing it down between your shoulder blades, the snow absolutely burning against your warm skin. He didn’t relent as you struggled beneath him, howling and shrieking. At last he rubbed snow all over your hair. When he felt like he’d had enough retribution, he pushed himself off you, breathing suddenly a simple task.

“It burns,” you said, throwing off your gloves to remove whatever snow hadn’t melted. “You got snow into my bra, Katsuki.”

He settled down again, his knees digging into the ground.

“Next time, I hope you’ll think twice before trying being a jackass,” he said, roughly brushing snow away from your hair.

You crawled up into sitting position, sneering at him. He scoffed at you, scooting closer.

Katsuki flicked his index and middle fingers in an inward motion, his gloves making the movement seem graceless. “Sit up, Y/N. I’ll get it out for you.”

You bent your head towards him and he untangled the snow clumps from your messy hair. Soon the water was absorbed by your clothes and your hair gathered into a terrible looking mess.

“It’s unfair that I can’t fight you on equal terms,” you said, trying to comb your hair with numb fingers.

“That’s what everyone says.”

You opened your mouth in mock surprise, drawing your brows together. “Such hubris.”

Katsuki lowered himself onto his back, contemplating the sky above.

“One day I’ll let you win,” he said and shut his eyes. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want your pity win.” You gave up on your hair with a sigh. Once you got home, you’d have to brush it properly or it’d be a bitch to untangle later.

“That’s a good attitude.”

“I get enough pity from everyone else by dating you, so I don’t need any from you.”

You squealed when he thrashed up towards you and clamped his teeth on your thigh, delicately biting down. He let go, resting his cheek against you. It was impossible to resist giving his hair a few light tugs.

“Pity, huh?” he said and rested a hand on your opposite thigh. “The peasants can say all they want. In the end, I’m the one who got the girl. They can stay salty for all I care.”

“If I had by chance ended up with someone else, would I have been a peasant too?”

“Don’t kid yourself.” Katsuki’s hands slid around your waist, joining together behind your back. “That would never have happened. I’m the only one that can handle you; you’re too damn crazy for just about anyone else.”

Your body bloomed in pangs of heat, your chest and the pit of your stomach aching in a pleasant way. Hoping he wouldn’t see your giddy smile, you brushed some snow off his back. “Same goes for you.”

“Damn right, baby.”

Your waist protested when he released you and you felt like this moment had passed by too fast. The wet cloth rubbed uncomfortably against your skin as you also got up. “I’m cold.”

Katsuki eyed your front, snow lodged everywhere.

Yes, that was all you, you napkin, you commented inside your head.

“You should head back home,” he said, grasping your cheek with his fingers and tugging gently. Reluctantly, he added, “I’ll get the stuff we need myself.”

“I told you before, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

His face became blank, an empty mirage reflecting your own serious one. For some reason, you perceived glow of admiration in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice slightly thicker than before, “I know.”

I hope you all enjoyed it, please like and/or reblog if you did!

I listened to Baby Don't Stop by NCT U while writing the draft, which worked tbh, and Pied Piper by BTS during the re-write.

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #ilcaeryx.tenacity

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wazzupmrstark · 5 years

Text

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Thirteen || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: it’s midterm week!! bro I’m straight-up not having a good time

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst, smut

What I listened to while writing: this late night playlist

Word Count: 2.5k

“What happened last night?” a familiar voice asked from behind you and you and Tom both whipped around to see Harrison standing there, eyebrow raised and jaw clenched. You were fucked.

Harrison’s normally bright blue eyes were cold with suspicion, making you shrink where you stood as he waited for your answer.

“Last night, uh...” You wished Tom would swoop in and save you, but Haz was looking directly at you and you didn’t know how to answer. You knew Tom was at least a little bit smug standing behind you because now it was your turn to lie to your best friend and you were threatening to crack under the pressure. The longer you fumbled the more you were making it look like you had something to hide so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I, um- I slapped Tom last night.” Harrison’s jaw dropped. “And I’m afraid I’ll get fired for it.”

It was silent and you knew neither of the boys knew what to say. Harrison looked torn between disbelief and laughter, as if he couldn’t decide which was more appropriate for the situation.

“What?”

“I, um feel really bad about it,” you added, shifting uncomfortably.

You were a hundred percent certain that behind you Tom appeared completely composed even though he actually wanted to strangle you. But he knew you were a bad liar, he shouldn’t be surprised.

“You hit him?”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Tom insisted, coming to your defense finally. “I deserved it.”

Suddenly Haz was zeroed in on Tom. “What’d you do?”

Tom cocked his head slightly, seeming unsurprised that his best friend would take your side so quickly. “You tell the story, y/n.”

You figured you deserved that, you had just unintentionally made Tom look like the bad guy to his best friend, again.

“I was totally out of line,” you started, trying to buy yourself some time. “But he can be such an asshole and he just drives me insane and-”

“The details aren’t important,” Tom cut you off and turned to you, glaring. “Are we even now?”

The question caught you off guard and for a second you thought Tom was being sincere. You couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to put the bad blood between you to rest and start over. But you knew better, and you knew there were things both of you had done that the other couldn’t forgive. But of course, he wasn’t really asking you, it was just a part of the act.

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, hoping Harrison wasn’t looking at you too closely. “We’re even.”

The ride to set was an awkward one. Harry had missed everything that just happened, but could tell something was obviously up by the way no one was talking to each other. He had been taking pictures with his 35mm Canon like he did every morning, but stopped when he realized no one was smiling or posing for him like they usually did.

He’d snapped one of you and you just knew you had to look absolutely miserable: hood up, hair in your face, deadpan even though you were in on a boat in the middle of Venice on a beautiful day.

Everyone else on the boat was chatting and actively soaking up the sunshine, trying to enjoy the last few days left in Venice, but you were ready to get the fuck out of this city. You couldn’t see yourself ever coming back to Italy after all this, except for maybe with someone you really loved, someone who could replace all of the bad memories with good ones.

You avoided eye contact with all three of them, especially Tom, and focused on the emails in your inbox. The cup of coffee he had made you had long gone cold by now and the chilly weather wasn’t helping, but you still sipped it anyway hoping the caffeine would wake you up.

“What the fuck was that?” Tom whispered to you as soon as you were alone together in the makeup tent waiting for the hair stylist to arrive.

“Did you want me to tell him what you actually did?” you whispered back, knowing anyone standing outside could probably hear you if you spoke any louder.

“You could have said anything else!”

“I panicked!”

“Obviously!”

“I wouldn’t have had to lie if you hadn’t-“

“Oh so this is back on me?”

“Are you trying to say that this isn’t your fault?” you hissed.

“Please, like you didn’t play any part in this!”

“I am so tempted to actually slap you right now.”

Just as Tom was about to retaliate, the hair stylist stepped into the tent and he shut his mouth. He even smiled politely at her and asked her how her morning was. You gave him the finger behind her back before slipping outside.

As soon as you were outside you turned around and ran straight into Harrison, literally, who caught you by your shoulders as you stumbled into him.

“Woah, you okay?” he asked, steadying you.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“You sure?” he asked. “You look awful.”

“Thanks, Haz.” You rolled your eyes. This was the last thing you needed right now.

“No, I mean you look really exhausted. Did you sleep at all?”

You sighed. You must’ve looked worse than you thought if everyone was suddenly worried you might pass out at any moment. “Not really, but it’s not important.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, crossing his arms like he did when he was worried.

“I was up all night wondering if I’d be fired,” you admitted. It was the first time you were being honest with him in days.

“I wouldn’t stress too much about that.”

“Why not?”

He looked away and took a deep breath before saying anything. “Tom needs you more than he lets on,” he said finally and you waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “You should go back to the hotel, get some rest.”

You shook your head. “That’s not going to help, trust me.”

“Well, take it easy then, please. For me.”

You smiled, genuinely this time. “I’ll try.”

They were filming some big action sequence today which meant it’d be a long one, and they’d most likely go over schedule. On one hand it was good because it’d keep you busy and you needed the distraction, but on the other, you hadn’t slept in twenty-seven hours and you didn’t know how long you’d make it before you had to tap out.

“How many cups have you had today?” Zendaya asked nodding at the paper cup of coffee in your hands. She was on deck for the next part of the scene and liked to keep you company by the monitors when she had spare time. In the time she’d been standing there you’d already refilled your cup twice.

“Is it bad if I say I lost count?”

“Yes, it’s bad, y/n!” she scolded, eyes wide. “I’m going to tell craft services to cut you off.”

“No, please don’t!” you begged. “I didn’t sleep last night.”

“Why not? What kept -” she stopped mid-sentence and her face lit up “or who kept you up?”

You laughed and nudged her shoulder. “No, it was nothing like that. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Gotcha, well slow down on the coffee anyway or it’ll just keep you up again,” she advised then looked down at the pager on her hip. “That’s me. I’ll meet up with you at our next break?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she took off jogging towards the bridge where they were filming.

“Yeah, sounds good!” you called after her, unsure if she could even hear you.

“I’m serious about the coffee, y/n, I’m watching you!” she shouted back and you rolled your eyes through a grin even though you knew she couldn’t see you.

As soon as Watts called wrap you nearly collapsed with relief on the pavement. You’d been standing for hours and you couldn’t wait to just go back to the hotel and sleep. Everyone around you was making plans to go out to dinner or the club and you couldn’t believe any of them still had energy after the day they’d had.

Just when you thought you’d escaped being invited out Haz caught you packing your backpack and asked if you wanted to go to the bar with the cast.

“I wouldn’t be any fun,” you said apologetically. “I haven’t slept in thirty-eight hours.”

“Really, because I think watching you do karaoke on no sleep would be a lot of fun,” he argued. “But you should get some rest. We can go out another time.”

“Have fun, though,” you said with a smile. “And make sure Tom doesn’t drink too much.”

“I’ll try,” he promised.

“You better do more than try,” you threatened. “Production isn’t going to be very happy if Peter Parker shows up hungover tomorrow morning.”

Harrison scoffed. “Have a little faith, y/n. He’s English, he was born with high tolerance.”

“Uh huh, just keep an eye on him for me, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah whatever.”

“Thank you,” you said and hoisted your backpack up onto your shoulders.

“Anything for you.” He smiled cheekily and pulled the strings on your hoodie down, making the hood close around your face.

“Asshole.”

As soon as you were back in the room you ordered room service, showered, and changed into pajamas. You weren’t very hungry, but tried to eat your pasta anyway before surrendering to your exhaustion and climbing into bed. You pulled out the book you’d been reading throughout the trip and started to flip through it. You hadn’t had a chance to read in what felt like forever.

You were lost in your book by the time Tom came back. You were actually glad he was back because the story was getting a little spooky.

“You look cozy,” he observed as he shucked off his jacket.

“I am, but this book is stressing me out.”

“What’s is about?”

You looked up, surprised he was interested. “It’s a thriller about a cold case,” you explained. “This guy’s sister was murdered, it’s supposed to be based on a true story. I think the ex-boyfriend did it.”

“You’ll have to tell me how it ends.”

“No way, that defeats the whole purpose of reading it!”

“Well I’m never going to read it,” he protested, coming over to sit on the bed with you.

“Why not? You might like it.”

“We both know I’m not going to,” he murmured softly and you suddenly remembered how you used to constantly nag him about reading the bulletins you sent him because he never, ever did and how he used to mix up the times for meetings on the schedule even though they were printed right under each other.

“Then I’ll tell you how it ends,” you promised. “How was the bar?” you asked, changing the subject.

“It was alright. Harry got pretty pished, he and Harrison did some karaoke.”

“Man, I would’ve paid money to see that,” you groaned, suddenly wishing you had gone out.

“I’ve got plenty of videos,” he assured you and leaned over to show you on his phone.

“What song did they do?”

“Songs,” he corrected “and they started with a classic Celine Dion and ended with The Greatest Showmen.”

“I’m sure Zendaya loved that.”

As you leaned over his shoulder to watch your friends make fools of themselves, you were minimally aware of how his eyes stayed trained on you rather than the screen.

“How did they not kick you guys out?” you asked and looked back up at him when he didn’t answer. “What?” you asked.

“I meant it.”

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” you chuckled, trying not to get lost in the darkness of his eyes.

“The kiss, I meant it.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh.”

“Is that all?” he asked, wanting, needing you to say something else.

“I’m glad,” you heard yourself say, surprising yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded and leaned towards him, eyelids fluttering shut.

Hesitantly, Tom pressed his lips to yours, gently this time, and you kissed him back finally, with a little more urgency. He moaned when you slipped your tongue into his mouth without warning and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Clumsily, Tom pulled you onto his lap, tossing your book across the room in the process.

“My page!” you broke away and exclaimed.

“You can worry about that later,” Tom laughed and tilted your chin back up to kiss you again.

Tom paused to lift your t-shirt, technically Harrison’s t-shirt, over your head. He kissed you chastely on the lips once more before beginning to pepper kisses down your neck. You turned your head to the side, giving him access to your collarbone and shoulder. Taking initiative, Tom turned and laid you back on the bed, now on top of you. He took a moment to drink in the sight of you with a wicked grin on his face.

Tom resumed kissing your neck and you took the opportunity to work on the buttons of his shirt, finding concentrating on the task at hand more difficult than you would have thought. Your fingers trembled as he whispered your name in your ear.

He made his way down your body, pausing to place breathy kisses on your skin wherever he felt led, paying special attention to your breasts. You wound your hands in his curls and reveled in his moans whenever you tugged at them.

“Fuck, darling,” he groaned as he situated himself between your legs and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts, wasting no time in pulling them, and your panties off of you. “You’re soaked,”

“All for you, Tommy,” you panted and locked eyes with him. The sight of him smirking between your legs was one you wished you could photograph and frame. His hair was a mess, thanks to you, and his lips were swollen and pink. His eyes were nearly black in the dim light and full of lust.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, licking his lips.

You nodded, afraid of how your voice would shake if you spoke, but that was all it took for him to bury his head between your thighs. His tongue teased you deliciously and you moaned out, hoping the people in the next room over couldn’t hear. You arched off the bed as he circled your clit with his tongue and he held your legs down firmly in response. His grip on your thighs was almost definitely going to leave a mark, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You threw your head back and shut your eyes, wanting this to last forever. Feeling an odd nudging at your hips you opened your eyes again and gasped like the life had been hammered back into you. Blinking, you realized you were still in bed underneath the covers, drenched with sweat, hair stuck to your forehead. Your book was still on top of you, open to the page you must have fallen asleep on. It was dark outside and Tom was beside you instead of on top of you, hovering over you with concern all over his face. It had just been a dream. A very realistic dream.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked. “You were crying out,”

“Yeah,” you panted, trying to convince not only him, but yourself too. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Nightmare?”

“Something like that.”

okay technically there was smut!! but I may have misled you a *little* bit :) anyway I hope you guys are having a good week!! lmk what you think, I always appreciate feeback!!

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