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countrymusiclover · 2 years

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4 - Henry's Theory About Fate

Part 5

His Golden Princess

@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @alanaangie24

Wrapping my coat tight around me I entered Granny's seeing Henry already waiting in a booth with two hot chocolate on the table. Handing Granny the money I slide in the other side to face him. He immediately reached into his bag pulling out the storybook he always carries around. Along with some folded up pieces of paper that looked like they came from a different old book. "So why did you want to talk to me. Do you believe yet?" He asked egaer to have just one person not call him crazy even though Regina wants him to forget the book all together. "I uh - I wanted to talk to you about some - dreams I've had. Or at least I think they're dreams." He nodded picking up the new story pages flipping two of them over so I could see the drawings. Sucking in a breath I felt a chill run down my spine because they looked exactly like the dream worlds I have seen with Rumplestiltskin. "I couldn't understand how these just suddenly appeared in my bag after you radioed me. Until now I think the curse is trying to point you in a direction." Running a hand through my hair I sighed slumping my shoulders. "In the direction of what exactly. A ticket to crazy town or something...ugh I didn't mean to say that kid." He gives me a small smile snapping his fingers seeing something. "Where'd you get that necklace?"

Lifting it out from my coat I show him the necklace I was given the day we arrived here by Mr. Gold. "From Gold. Why is there a picture of it?" He shakes his head no flipping through pages of the storybook he finally lifted it around so I could see another picture. He was right on the money because the picture was a detailed dagger with the name Rumplestiltskin engraved into it. "Your necklace is in the exact same shape as his Dark One dagger. So I think the curse must have created the jewelry for some reason. Do you remember where he got it from inside his shop?" Henry eyed me sternly hoping for an answer while I tapped my fingers on the table trying to think back about a few months ago. "He pulled back a painting from the wall. I think it was the one near the register." Henry slides out of the booth grabbing his things. "Come on we've gotta check it out." Jumping to my feet I grab his backpack holding him still. "Woah hold up. That would be trust passing. You're mother's the sheriff now and I don't think she'll want to lock you up. Besides you have school." He dropped his head when I squeeze his shoulder walking him to the bus. "Hey we can talk about this later. Just have a good day at school okay." He waved bye getting on the bus.

"Oh how nice of you to walk him to school, Ms. Astrid." Turning my head in the direction of the voice I see Mr. Gold walking up wearing some sunglasses holding something behind his back. Putting my hands in the pockets of my coat I saw a man selling flowers chasing after his truck down the street glaring at our direction. "You don't have a weapon behind your back do you, Gold?" I asked taking a step away from him when he moved his sunglasses up on his head and I met the same brown eyes of the Rumplestiltskin inside my head. He chuckled giving me a smile revealing a rose I'm his other hand. "No, no, weapon. But a question. Would you allow me to take you to dinner tonight. Unless you already have plans I completely understand?" Tonight was Valentines day and I wasn't really planning on do anything. I take the rose from him with a small smile. "I'd love to. I do have a question for you though. Why me, exactly?" Gold started walking back towards his shop calling over his shoulder. "I like you, Astrid. There's a light in you and I need a little in my life. I'll pick you up tonight at the inn." Turning on my heels I kept doing my morning walking until I felt a headache coming on for no reason. "Trust in your instincts, Lady Astrid. Trust in your instincts." Grabbing my head I heard the voice of Rumplestiltskin speaking to me. Stopping in my step I try and grasp onto something but I black out outside of Granny's diner.

I squinted one eye barely open to see I'm laying on the couch the next morning in the police station. Mr. Gold is inside a prison cell as Regina came to sit on the arm not noticing that I was awake because he doesn't give her a sign that I am. Closing my eyes I see flashes of me and Rumplestiltskin staring at each other longly leaning in about to kiss until Regina's voice broke me from the trance. "Tell me your name." Mr. Gold answered her finally after seconds of silence. "Rumplestiltskin..." I heard her foosteps leave the room where he whispered under his breath. "She's gone now dearie. You can stop playing dead." Lifting my head up I hold myself up by my elbows glaring at the man or should I say Beast I have no clue at the moment. "You lied to me or at least I think you did. I mean you honestly can't be - Rumplestiltskin..." Suddenly pain shoots through my head again where I flopped back on the couch seeing those enchanted woods again with the declared Dark One.

"Back so soon, dearie." He giggled when I shot up awake laying on the dirt ground. "Not by choice. Why does my mind keep doing this!" I shouted up to the man wanting to stop losing my mind. Rumplestiltskin seems to not be fazed at my outburst when he just offered me his freehand. Reluctantly I let him pull me up to stand on my feet. A light white dress with a golden trim at the bottom falls down to my feet. My hair is loose as I spun in a tiny circle having to admit I like this dress more than the golden one. "Yep I am losing it because there's no way I would own a dress like this. My mind is letting me pretend to be a princess as a 28 year old woman." Rumple clapped his hands slowly together shaking his head. Whipping my head around I get pulled up against his chest like I saw in an earlier vision. My eyes flickered to his lips and he does the same starting to lean in. Jerking my head back I push my hands against his chest stopping him. "This isn't real. I'm going insane that's it. I mean I hit my head on the sidewalk so I have a concussion right?" Rumple reached up resting a hand to my cheek leaning finally pressing his lips onto mine.

I gasped clutching the fabric of his leather jacket in my hands. Every instinct in my head is telling me to kick him between his legs and run. Yet I felt myself slowly kissing him back. His other hand rests on my waist until I broke the kiss bending my head down blushing. "No. No I shouldn't have done that." Rumple moved hair from out of my eyes giving me a gentle look in those deep brown eyes of his. "You're not crazy my dear. You're much smarter than your sister because you still hold onto belief like that boy." Rolling my eyes I pull myself out of his hold but he holds me still intertwining my hands with his. "You Astrid are destined for more than your sister." Raising a brow I don't understand what he meant. "What destiny. The curse Henry always talks about?" He nodded yes revealing the dagger necklace from my shirt. "Go searching for this dagger and it all will become clear. Now please dearie follow your instincts this time." He waved his right hand knocking me out onto the ground softly.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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daddy-ari-levinson · 3 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/daddy-ari-levinson/741241021702324224/httpswwwtumblrcomdaddy-ari-levinson740720241?source=share

*I look at you, and lean into your hand*

Honestly, Daddy... I can't decide...

*I wrap my arms around you and lay my head on your shoulder again*

Part of me just wants to stay here. In my favorite place of all, in your arms. The other part of me, wants to enjoy a night out with you.

Dress up. Paint the town red. And be able to show off, that I've got one caring and gorgeous guy.

And one adorable, doggo who's well-trained, and such a good boy...

*I point and look to the other side of the room where a big ball of brown floof, was curled up on his bed, sleeping not really minding anything else that's going on*

Plus, those kisses really are something, Daddy... I really enjoyed seeing you get dazed because of them.

*I lower my gaze, cheeks turning red, as I bite my lip. Fingers, drawing little patterns on your chest. Bashful, but loving the image of you breathless*

Both are really good options, Daddy.

*I try to contain my grin, by continuing to bite my lip*

- 🌌

(I don't know what it is. But receiving your replies, Daddy, gives me the biggest smile... It's why I look forward to the day when I notice that you're replying. They make my day better ❤️

And thank you, for encouraging me to read. Little by little, and just enjoy it... Not forcing anything, just letting myself get immersed, and really loving books for what they are, again 🥹

Also, it's a few days before Valentine's, Daddy. Got any plans? 🤭🫠)

*I can't help but chuckle at how cute you are. I move your beautiful body closer to mine, making you sit on my lap*

Well, I have an idea. Why don't we go out for dinner, then we can get dessert and eat it here at home. That way we can do both things *I lean near your ear* And you get to show me off and I get to do the same. *I lean back and smile at you* And we can get something for AJ too *I smile* What do you say?

(Oh beautiful. Thank you so much for your words, I'm happy to know that I get to make you feel happy. That's the main goal of this. To build a comfortable and happy place when you can have a good time. 🤎

Exactly beautiful, It can feel like it's impossible but it's not. We need to do things that makes us feel happy in life. Sometimes it can happen that one gets carried away but never think for once you are not worthy of doing things that make you feel good. 🤎

Ahh well, I have a surprise to all of you, it won't be a lot but it's something that I hope makes all of you smile... What about you sweetheart?)

#ari's inbox #🌌

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toxiccrybabymatureart · 1 year

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I posted 18 times in 2022

That's 18 more posts than 2021!

10 posts created (56%)

8 posts reblogged (44%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@toxicfucksaround

@toxiccrybabyart

@y0ur-beta-b0yfriend

@aghostisdrawing

@toxiccrybabymatureart

I tagged 15 of my posts in 2022

Only 17% of my posts had no tags

#nonbinary artist - 11 posts

#artists on tumblr - 10 posts

#y0urb0yfriend - 8 posts

#no minors - 8 posts

#minors dni - 8 posts

#digital art - 6 posts

#digital artist - 6 posts

#oc art - 5 posts

#mc - 5 posts

#macey kane - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 27 characters

#your boyfriend (game/day 3)

My Top Posts in 2022:

This is Haeres, a demon lord of the shadows, having an affair with his servant Cresil (the one doing most of the seducing, Haeres usually is far too embarrassed to ever try seducing Cresil.)

Haeres is married to a lesbian demon lady named Hiroko, who only has eyes for her rather flirtatious servant Melros. The two agreed early on into their arranged marriage that this arrangement was for the best, having already asked their love interests first.

Context out of the way, here’s my demon lad rocking a new design, hopefully I can get into drawing them all more and sharing the art with you all.

Now I know you might be wondering, why is this marked as mature?

That’s because the story is, 80% smut and 20% plot so, yeah these Ocs are used for only the horniest of reasons and as such can only be shared on a mature blog.

8 notes - Posted January 22, 2022

Welcome to part 2 of my YB Art collection. Yes I’m posting this right after part 1, I have a lot of shit to post here and it’s my blog I do what I want.

Anyways here’s a redraw of a scene from the Your Boyfriend game.

Here’s some outfits I made for my interpretation of Y/N

See the full post

10 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

Late but MC and YB enjoying a sweet Valentine’s Day milkshake date together.

I started this like, weeks ago and just forgot to finish it so, my bad.

17 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

Highschool YB and MC.

Started as a doodle but then I got carried away.

22 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Here’s the man himself, the redesign I said I’d share.

He’s called Wybie, because Coraline was MC’s favorite movie in highschool.

He looks kinda like a scene kid I’m not sure how that happened but it’s fine because alt people are muah, chefs kiss, Easily the best fashion style, fight me.

So what’s the difference between this Peter and in game Peter?

Quite a few things. For example, Wybie actually respects aromantic and asexual people. Don’t get me wrong he’s still a weirdo he just, you know, doesn’t invalidate your sexual or romantic orientation. Same with lesbians, even official blog Peter was weird about lesbians. Wybie is not. Your a lesbian, he respects that, but he’s your best friend and you can’t have a partner with him in your life, obviously. That being said he’s still very much a “I’m the only person in your life, regardless of if we’re friends or lovers” kinda yandere, though he can be, helped to be less obsessive of that but it’s a long road.

He also would rather die than use any violence on you, at all. None. Your his beloved, after all, only scum hurts their partners.

He’s mindful of your consent, as well. You don’t consent to something he’s not gonna do it. Well, aside from obviously the stalking, maybe taking a few things you no longer want or need but, sexual wise, nothing is done without permission.

If you don’t like any of this that’s fine, I’m not shaming anyone for still liking Peter. I just personally don’t like the way the game is going and so spite fueled me to make a version for myself and anyone else who feels betrayed by the game. Others have done this better, like @y0ur-beta-b0yfriend who is phenomenal honestly. I just wanted to try my hand out making a yb design is all.

24 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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fumikomiyasaki · 3 months

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hope this ask goes through!

💝 with any of our ships!

A Valentines kiss

on the neck

With a firm step the priestess walked past many of the Valentines couples with a judging look... how can they just openly show off so much? This should be reserved for closed doors only... she scoffed at this whole display of affection and marched towards her usual place where she spoke her prayers and kneeled down... however as she finished and got up she felt some hands on her shoulders.

"Hello, Darling~"

Alice looked down at her with this usual amused look as Elvira blushed... she had one weakspot for sure where she could let it slip that she herself was going against her rules... she often grew weak for the Vampiress... but moreso she noticed her showing a light pout.

"Do you have to always wear turtleneck, sweety? I would love to eye your pretty little neck."

"Its to stay dilligent to my duties. I would never show too much."

To her surprise Alice picked her up in her arms and stroked a bit over her neck revealing a spot.

"But today being Valentines I would know a good gift you could make me, my dear?"

"My blood... well... its a small offering for my personal object of devotion... as you wish, my beloved."

The priestess tilted her head feeling Alice sink her teeth into her flesh... holding onto her shoulders a little to brace for the slight pain of it all... but feeling her lick off the blood and stay kissing the spot a little made her feel warm inside... something she couldn't get by prayers and her duties alone... as the Vampiress drank their last she carried Elvira with her on one of the benches of this place and sat down with her.

"Maybe well you can hide my mark on you now but... I do want to claim you more this day, do you have the time for me?"

"Of course... my prayers are done... I am all yours for today...I swear to god on it."

"Good one~ Then lets go out together for now, my dearest."

Even if she judged the other couples she was also a hypocrit... her own happiness was enough to forget her own rules as she held the Vampiress hands firmly.

__________________

on the back of the hand

Even if Amore wings day put him under stress, He eventually sneaked out to meet up with Astrid in heartslabyuls rose gardens... bringing her a whole box with treats, a small drawing notebook and two dolls that looked like her and her sister.

"Emil, I can't thank you enough for this. I will cherish these! I can't wait to show them to Isfrid."

He looked away with a light blush.

"It was the least I can do for... keeping me sane in a way..."

"Emil... alright its settled... in return lets do something fun together so we get you distracted from stress and such thoughts... I want to see a smile on you today."

"You know thats hard to acheive right."

"I can at least try."

With a smile at him she offered her hand and spinned him into a small dance... she noticed his thoughts where still distracted so she told him some stories to keep his attention but eventually He broke away and took her hand...

"I am still... glad you want to stay close to me... despite knowing what I am capable off... thank you."

He placed a kiss on the back of her hand as she blushed slightly.

"You really are a sweetheart Emil."

A small smile escaped him which she quickly pointed out as he tried to hide his red face again... he really did love the times she got him out of his school... it was like a soft spring breeze giving him that hope of a better life... and he would do anything to keep her that happy.

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ocs #twst #disney twst #twst ocs #twistedwonderlandoc #twistedwonderland #elvira parena #elvira x alice #emil puppnella #emil x astrid

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nix-writes-mcyt · 2 years

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I would like to request an Impulse x Reader where the rest of Boatem is trying to get them together? Hope you enjoyed your little break!

I accidenally got carried away, heh~ P.s happy valentines everyone!

At Long Last

Oneshot Contains: Fluff, A Couple Kisses, Boatem causing mischief ---------------------------------------

Today had started like any other, you woke up, got ready for the day and got to work on the giga base. Unlike most other days you found yourself surrounded by all but one of the other Boatem members.

They had dropped in around you all at once from who even knows where and demanded your attention at once. You had been presented with a book written in code, one you couldn't fully decipher, and told to sign it.

Without much of a choice you had done, Pearl taking you by one arm and Mumbo by the other. They had walked you to the boatem hole, taking you down and shutting you in a large empty room, aside from two chairs, with a tinted glass window.

"Take a seat." A voice calls from the window. You recognise it as Scar's, he and the others must be behind the glass. You do as you're told, sitting in one of the two chairs.

"Bring him in." Scar's voice calls again. It's an eerie command, a hidden door at the other side of the room sliding open. It reveals Impulse, the only boatem member to be missing from the start. Pearl pushes him into the room before the door slides shut.

At first he doesn't notice you're there, trying to see if he can open the door from the inside of the room. He's good at redstone yes but Mumbo matches him and that's without the others for building. The room would not open that easily.

When he finally notices you you cast your eyes down, hoping he didn't notice you staring. You hear him walk over, the chair opposite you scraping along the floor, an indication that he's now sitting across from you. Which turns out to be true when you look up.

The two of you share a glance, an expression of confusion. But it doesn't last long before you both draw your eyes away.

Silence falls, you steal the occasional glance at Impulse but spend most of your time staring at the tinted glass. What were the others thinking?

You know they're there watching. Why wouldn't they be? They brought you here and locked you in a room with the devilishly handsome Impulse.

Only now does it dawn on you why you're here. Why Impulse is here too.

You look in the opposite direction of your friend, face turning red as you realise. But how can you say anything?

Sure you have deep rooted feelings for the man but how can you tell him that? You've spent the entire time you've lived in Boatem trying to skate around your feelings.

Now you're here, locked in a room with no sign of escape. You're here because they know, the others know. But just telling Impulse isn't that easy.

You shift, suddenly uncomfortable with how you're sitting in the chair. Changing position is the only option. As you glance over at Impulse you find your eyes meeting his. He's the one to look away first.

But he's also the one to say something. "So, what now?" You can tell he's thinking, the usually bubbly tone he speaks with replaced with a lower more casual voice. One you've heard a few times, one that will never get old. His natural voice.

"I don't know." You say, only to be corrected by a disembodied voice. "Yes you do." Grian's quip catches the attention of the man inside the room with you, who now stares at the glass.

"What do you mean?" He asks, only to be met with silence. Which turns his attention to you.

"I can't tell you." You look away in an effort to not let him see the blush making its way onto your face. "Come on, if you know the way out of here why don't you just share and we can leave?"

The glass catches your eye, the light bouncing off of it. In its reflection you can see yourself and you can see Impulse. It's just the two of you, his head turned in your direction, his focus on you.

If only it were under different circumstances, you'd find yourself flushed either way. You wish that the image that was reflected, the one created in your mind was reality. That you would find yourself sat beside him somewhere nice, just the two of you.

Your mind races with thoughts and possibilities, all the things you have wanted, all the things you do want. You do want those things, those romantic scenes you've thought about, being able to spend time with Impulse and be open about your feelings.

You want him to know that you love him. You want to tell him. You will.

You stand, pulling your eyes away from the glass, from the imaginary world, and turn to the very real Impulse who is still looking at you. Why you decided to stand up, you're unsure, but it would be awkward to sit back down now.

"I know why we're in here. At least why I'm in here. It must be so obvious to the four other members of out little community." "Boatem is a business move-" "Not now Mumbo." You send a stern look in the direction of the glass, hoping you've looked at the former CEO of Boatem.

"Boatem may be a business move, it may be a community, I don't know and I don't care. But I am grateful for it. I'm grateful because I get to spend so much time with you." Impulse looks a little baffled for a second, but he seems to quickly cotton on to where you're headed with your little speech.

"Y/n, you don't have to do this here." He states. "Yes you do." Scar's voice fills the room. "No they don't." Impulse stands now. "Y/n I love you."

Your attention is on him in a second. Did he just?.. Surely not.

He takes a hold of your hands. "I love spending time with you, being around you. I only ever joined Boatem because I knew you were here. I never said anything because I didn't think you felt the same-" Silence.

His words are cut off, mainly by your impatience. You've waited so long for this moment, for this kiss. It's short, but it says more than you ever could.

Impulse smiles, still holding your hands he pulls you closer to him. "I love you too." You finally say, although it's been more than proven at this point.

"Be mine?" All that's needed is a nod, the two of you sharing another kiss, which is unfortunately interrupted.

"Interesting show." Grian snickers. You turn around, seeing all four other Boatem members in the door you had originally come through.

"At long last." Scar sighs, "it only took the two of you.. two seasons?" He smirks. "Yeah this has been going on since Season 6. I thought it was never going to happen." Mumbo adds, which is the final straw for you.

"Oh that's it, you're all in for it." Mumbo's eyes widen, Scar shifting to stand behind Grian and Pearl, the two of whom share a knowing look and a giggle. You start to march in their direction, the cheek of the lot of them.

But you're stopped. "Me now, them later." Impulse says, his voice soft, calming. You relax as he pulls you back against his chest, but gesture to the other Boatem members that you're watching them.

They all back out of the room, leaving the door open this time. You and Impulse leave the room, surprised to find that it was built into the company sports horse garage.

Once out in the open with no other hermits in sight he takes a hold of your hand, the two of you enjoying your first moment outside in the world as a couple.

It's nice, the world seems a little more vibrant than it did before. Your base, Impulse's base next door which then connects to all the other Boatem hermits.

Noticing your focus being drawn to the others' bases Impulse leans toward you. His voice is a whisper as he tells you "we'll get them back soon." "Yes we will," you reply with a small laugh, "yes we will."

#impulse x reader #impulsesv x reader #hermitcraft x reader #oneshot #hermitcraft #impulse #impulsesv #request #fluff #boatem #hermitcraft season 8 #grian x reader #pearl x reader #mumbo x reader #scar x reader #mutual pining #mcyt x reader

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hawnks · 3 years

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Party Attire

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

r18 (mdni)

wordcount: 1,600

my drabble for the valentines day exchange uwu. for @some-kindofgnome hope i did your wants justice. smooch.

warnings: dom/sub undertones, oral s** (giving & receiving), edging, spit, size kink

.....................................................................

He’d warned you about that skirt.

In the hall outside the bathroom of the four star restaurant his parents invited you to. Crowding you against the posh wallpaper. Fingers digging into the skin just below your hemline. Admittedly, it was pushing the boundary between business chic and let me get railed on my five break and then meet you back here to talk about the budget requests. A cute, pink pleated number you’d thrifted a few months back. The weather had just turned right to wear it with some knee socks. It was fun and flirty, you thought. A little daring, sure, but not enough to draw any attention that was too salacious.

Katsuki had other opinions.

“We get home, I’m fucking you so hard you won’t be able to form a coherent thought for days.”

He made good on his word. And after pampering you a little bit (no thinking required with your boyfriend literally carrying you wherever you needed to go), Katsuki passed his final judgement on your dinner attire.

“No.”

You put on your best pout, waggling the (now very stained) skirt at him. He slapped your hands out of his face, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the swish of the fabric, or how they fell to the marks he left on your thighs.

“Throw that shit out,” he groused.

You know he would never actually dare to tell you what you can and can’t wear. You also know he had a soft (and inexplicable) spot for that particular outfit. So you don’t feel bad about tucking it away for a rainy day -- after a very thorough washing, at least.

Now seems like the perfect occasion to break it out again.

Your boyfriend hasn’t been home in three days. The two of you keep up a constant back and forth over text, but you could tell the stress is beginning to wear on him, his responses getting pricklier and shorter the longer he’s away.

Finally, you get the message you’ve been waiting for. Home in ten.

Just enough time to get ready.

You hear Katsuki pull into the garage. He likes his cars fast and loud, which has never bothered you -- but the sound of the motor cutting out has your heart thundering in your chest. You’re seated on the plush couch in the den. You’re not sure if you should arrange yourself pleasingly or just plant yourself. You try several poses before you hear the front door open and shut, and Katsuki appears in the doorway, peering at you through the dimmed lighting as you struggle with one leg on the floor and one off.

It’s an uncomfortable position, and you can’t extract yourself without doing a bit of an awkward shimmy, which you suspect is endearing but not exactly seductive. Finally you end up with your legs hugged against your chest, your eyes trailing over to your boyfriend as he watches you, not moved from his spot by the entrance.

He’s in civilian clothing, sweats and a dark t-shirt, both perfectly fitted. It’s the first time he’d changed from his hero uniform in days, and the loungewear feels strange on his skin. Unnatural.

He leaves his coat on the floor in a heap, forgotten as he finally starts stalking toward you. His expression is bland, impassive -- but you catch a glimpse of interest in his eyes before your gaze darts, landing on his thighs. They’re massive, just like the rest of him. Sometimes you catch yourself watching him on slow days, as he leans over the stove, or grabs something from the top shelf from you, just marveling at the sheer size, the strength of him. It’s like he was designed with you in mind. Like he was made to make you feel small.

You can feel the divine heat of him as he stops before you, knuckles brushing your chin up until you meet his gaze. “Cute.”

You lean into his touch, and he cups your cheek, thumb petting the soft skin. “Missed you,” you say.

“Oh, yeah?” He stares at you for a second, the arches and slopes of your face. His thumb continues stoking, moving ever so slightly until he’s rubbing your bottom lip, dragging it down until he can see the dark color of the delicate inner skin. His forefinger creeps in, prodding against the soft point of your canine before finding your tongue. He presses down, a gentle pressure, but one that won’t let you ignore it. “Prove it.”

Your tongue presses back against his finger, licking around it, sucking. You do all of this without modesty, groaning when he presses back, gagging when his finger sinks deeper, edging toward your throat.

Katuski has big hands. You know that -- how could you ever forget that every part of him is a mountain -- but it’s moments like these that remind you just how big. How much bigger than you. How well he can fill you, in any way he chooses.

Your teeth are held open against his knuckle, and strings of drool begin to trail down your cheeks, land on your chest. Katsuki takes all of this, you, in with red eyes hooded, his other hand clenched at his side until he can’t hold himself back any longer.

With one arm he picks you up by the waist and repositions you, laying on your back beneath him as he straddles your midriff. He wipes the spit from his index finger off on your cheek, peering down at you as you let out another low whine.

“Impatient, huh?” he murmurs. At your eager nod, he grins, all teeth. “Guess I gotta show you who’s in charge here.”

One hand on the arm of the couch, the other cradling your chin, he crawls up your body until his hips are hovering over your face.

He lets go of you for just long enough to rip down his sweats, cock hard enough to tap his stomach, just from playing with your tongue, then his fingers are back on you, teasing open your mouth. He grits his teeth as you so willingly let him tap himself against your tongue, a dab of precum already budding at the tip.

You’re caged in by him from all directions, his thick thighs framing your temples, his hand stroking his cock in slow jerks just above your face. You should feel smothered—instead you feel intoxicated, drowned in his and his domination, and your lips continue to part further and further as he teases you, until you’re gaping and he’s grinning down at you.

“That’s it baby,” he hisses, nudging his cock in (finally in) to the warm cavern of your mouth.

He’s too big for you to take all of him like this, laying down, his legs splayed over you, but he continues to prod at the back of your tongue, his hips rolling in a firm, shallow rhythm. He edges himself in your mouth, pulling out and letting his cock smack gently against your cheek, smearing precum and your own spit across your skin.

“Yeah,” he says, voice worn thin, self control fraying. “So goddamn cute.”

Twice more pulls out just before cumming, smearing your face with your combined slick, groaning as his hips jerk against your jaw.

With a hiss he crawls off you, goes to his knees on the floor. In less than a second he’s manhandled you into the position he wants, hips hung off the couch, your whole body supported by his strong arms. With a wicked growl he flicks your skirt up, then he lowers his face.

Nothing Katsuki does could ever be considered sloppy. He’s perfect, sometimes maddeningly so. When he’s between your thighs he does things with a brutal finesse, one that you appreciate to the fullest extent. But what’s happening right now can only be described as messy.

He still knows how to treat you right, the exact pressure to make you buck, the spot inside to stroke with his index and middle finger while his other hand squeezes the meat of your thigh just this side of painful. But all of that is interspersed with split seconds of ravenous mindlessness. There are moments you don’t know what’s happening because it’s all so much, before he pulls you back in with a perfectly timed tweak of your clit, a particularly firm thrust.

And when he pulls back, just before you reach your peak, once, twice, three times, his praise is gravely and soft, his eyes have that mean glint that you hate love.

“Too soon, princess?” he says.

Or, “I told you to be fucking patient.”

Or, “Look at you, so fucking fucked. Just let me take care of things baby, I got you. Fuck that look on your face. So good for me—“

And when he finally (finally) let’s you cum on his tongue, he’s quick to follow after. You didn’t even know he’d been jerking off while he was eating you out, but you watch him rise up onto his feet, keeled over as he spends right on your pretty pink skirt.

He takes a moment to just look at it, you, all fucked out, a loopy smile on your face. He doesn’t think about what does it for him, how he likes how delicate you are compared to him, or how sometimes he just wants to fuck you up a little, how the urge lives closer to the surface when he’s stressed. Like today.

He runs an index finger through the cooling puddle caught in a pleat of your skirt, brings his wet finger up to paint your swollen bottom lip.

He says, “Was thinking about Italian for dinner tonight.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x y/n #im sorry i know we said like 500-800 words but i like talking abt messy stuff aklalkgjaerlkgj;aefgkllaadfg

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daily-escuella · 3 years

Text

Honest Day's Living - Platonic Javier Short

Javier x GN!Reader

Today I wanted to write a little feel-good thing! You and Javier go into town to make an honest day's living :)

Word count: ~3000

Warnings: none, this is just fun happy fluff

It had been a rough few months for everyone. The massacre in Blackwater, fleeing to the mountains, the disaster that unfolded in Valentine. Finally coming to a rest at Clemen’s Point felt surreal.

The air was humid but quiet. The lake was always calm and the wide open expanse of water helped everyone feel a little more free, while still thankfully hidden away from the public eye. The stress of recent events could still be felt throughout the gang, but there had been a small collective sigh when usual life picked back up following the most recent move.

You’d been able to ride into town a few times, accompanying supply runs or the odd small job but nothing that shook any feathers of the townsfolk surrounding the area. After speaking with a local, you’d been lucky to score some work that utilized your favourite hobby: painting.

There was only one small problem. You didn’t feel comfortable going alone.

Working around strangers didn’t bother you. If you could have your back against a wall and set your canvas up to face something pretty, you were right as rain, but where you’d be working for a few hours with your back to the world, you were concerned passersby might try to take advantage of your vulnerability. Not to mention being a lone person in a new town was always a little nerve-wracking in its own way.

Despite being with the motley crew for as long as you had, you were still intimidated by the man who you’d been lucky to call Boss. His broad chest and imposing figure, deep voice and the way he commanded respect with just a look. You needed to take a breath to steady yourself before seeking him out, art supply bag in hand. You knew you could ask one of the gang yourself, but it didn’t feel right to go behind Dutch’s back like that. You knew he’d be happier giving his blessing, and he’d be able to point out which person was most available to piss away their day watching over you.

You approached the large canvas tent that stood as the crown jewel of the camp. Adorned with fine rugs and furs, at least the finest that outlaws on the run could get their hands on, it was a striking contrast to the shabby fabric tents and makeshift shelters that boarded it. Sweet sounds of opera crooned from the gramophone and the smell of a fine cigar flooded your nostrils. Carefully peeking around the corner you were relieved to see you weren’t interrupting anything important. The tent was often home to discussions of upcoming jobs or knowledge you weren’t deemed privy to, thankfully this time all was quiet. Your boss was simply relaxing on his cot with an Evelyn Miller book in hand.

“Mornin’ Dutch,” you said, gaining the older man’s attention.

“Yes, what is it?” he responded, not wasting time on greetings. He was acutely aware you were there to ask him for something.

Your heartbeat pounded rapidly from your growing nerves. You’d spoken to him from time to time about your art and his literature, but almost never to ask a favour. His curt assumption at your presence did nothing to help. “Well,” you began as you adjusted the leather carrying case in your hands to draw his eye to it, “as you know... I do paintings. Sometimes... -and I was talking to someone in town, they got talking to me about it and he said his brother has this little place in the east end of town and-”

“Cut to the chase, I’m a busy man!” Dutch cut you off gruffly, growing quickly impatient at your disjointed ramblings. Your face flushed bright red as you floundered dreadfully in the face of someone you respected so much.

“Someone asked if I would paint their shop sign,” you explained quickly, adding “they’re not paying a ton but I thought it might be worth the work… I’d just uh… rather not go alone...”

Dutch considered your words for a moment before he sighed, leaning back on his bed with his book again. “Take Javier with you.” He turned his attention away from you. “Maybe if he brings his guitar, both you clowns can make a dollar entertaining the masses.” he joked humorlessly, possibly disappointed that you’d be spending so much time on so little cash. You bowed your head in embarrassment though you hoped it looked like respect.

“Yes Dutch, thank you Dutch!” You said as you scurried away, more than happy to be done with that awful exchange. Dutch had been joking, but as you approached Javier, standing at the lake’s edge enjoying a morning cigarette, you considered asking him if he’d play for you while you worked.

Of all the men Dutch could have directed you to, Javier was actually the one you were most comfortable with. He often spent his breaks nearby while you worked, enjoying the company as he practiced his songs.

“Good mornin’ Javier,” you called cheerfully as you approached his side.

He looked over his shoulder at you and smiled, before groaning through a small stretch. “Buenos días amigo.” His voice was a little hoarse, like he hadn’t used it yet that morning.

“It’s a nice day.” You said before letting silence fall between you, trying to formulate how you were going to word your question.

He glanced at you, aware you were being unusually quiet. “... It is,” he began suspiciously, “I feel like you’re gonna ask me something…”

“Could you come with me into town to keep an eye on things while I paint?” You blurted, your words tumbling out with little tact. “...Dutch told me to take you so you don’t have much choice,” you added sheepishly.

Javier laughed, then moaned in fake despair, “You’ve gotta be kidding me, a babysitting mission?”

“Oh come on, it’s an excuse to put your feet up all day,” you insisted playfully, knowing he was already on board. A little shyly you added, “you could bring your guitar too… If ya want…”

He dropped his smile for a moment as he considered it, “That could draw unwanted attention.”

“It’s not like I’m robbing anyone. A man in town wanted me to repaint his shop sign. He’s paying me a wage and everything!”

He took a pensive drag on his cigarette and blew it out slowly. As you waited for an answer you realized he might be nervous about playing in front of strangers. You’d only ever seen him practice in camp after all.

“Y’know, sometimes I’m nervous painting in front of folk, I get it if you’re shy-”

“I’m not shy.” He asserted, then laughed in spite of himself realizing how his quick response came across. “It’s just in Rhodes right?”

You nodded.

He rubbed his chin a few times while he gave it some real thought, “You know what? I will bring it. I don’t care what those cabrones think.”

You whooped gleefully and he shook his head at you with a mock eye roll. You followed after him as he walked to pick up his guitar. It was small, the perfect size to wear while horseback. Though he would never risk taking it on a normal job, you were so happy to see him finally play it outside of camp.

~~~

The two of you rode into town side by side. The sun had barely burned off the morning fog as you crossed the train tracks and turned your mounts towards the town’s main street. It was a short trip from where you were camped, thankfully for Javier. You’d been unable to contain your excitement, informing him of your plan for the sign, the notes you’d taken last time you were in town, trying to describe the sketches you’d made and recreating the conversation you had with the local man who got you the job. You knew Javier wasn’t a big fan of incessant chatter, but you couldn’t help yourself. Instead of looking annoyed however he seemed fairly content, as if the sound of you buzzing in his ear was some nostalgic thing.

You smiled at him when he glanced your way as you finally fell silent. He shook his head as he couldn’t help grinning back. You exuded happiness that morning, it was infectious. “I’ve never seen someone so happy to work before,” he joked at you.

You just laughed as you pulled your horse up to the small shop front and dismounted. You walked up the wooden steps and pulled open the front door, with Javier quick to follow.

The older man behind the counter looked up at you and smiled warmly, “morning folks, how can I help ya?”

“Hello! Good morning!” You said a little loudly, you cleared your throat and started again, “I’m the person you hired to paint your shop sign.”

“Oh! Yes, that sign’s been lookin’ so awful it’s scaring my business away.” The man said as he ducked under the counter, pulling out some old cans of paint for you. “These are the colours I used before, you’ll do a sight better ‘an me I’m sure,” he laughed. He turned his attention to Javier, looking briefly apprehensive as he took in his intimidating presence. “Uh, and what can I do ya for sir?” The man asked, trying to keep the same lighthearted tone.

“Wha-” Javier started, seemingly snapped out of a daydream, “oh, I’m just here with them.”

“You don’t mind if he plays guitar while I work, do ya?” You asked, flashing the man your excited smile, adding, “he’s really good.”

Javier snorted at your praise but the man agreed with, “of course, I trust you’ll draw in customers for me with that.”

“I believe so!” You nodded and scooped the can’s of paint up, Javier picked up one you missed and followed you back out.

You set to work mixing the old paint up and assessing the sign versus your notes. You moved quickly about, gathering your tools from your horse and setting things up in a way you felt comfortable, while Javier stood by. When you were settled you glanced to see what he was doing and noticed he had found a spot near the opposite corner of the front porch to lean, arms folded over his chest. He looked uncomfortable.

“Are you alright?” You asked quietly.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.” He replied, shifting his shoulders as if he was stretching.

“Okay,” you affirmed before turning to start your work.

~~~

The sun rose lazily in the sky as you painted. You’d laid down a basecoat of the main colour before switching to the next one to start your detailed work. Javier had gone through several cigarettes in silence as he monitored the public around you. He seemed so out of his element. Guiltily you spoke, “I’m sorry Javier, I didn’t mean for this to turn into an actual babysitting job.”

He shook his head, as if snapping out of a thought, “oh it’s fine, it’s nice to have an excuse to rest.”

“But… you’ve been standing.” You pointed out.

He shrugged.

“I’ll… probably be fine on my own if you wanted to lea-”

“No amigo, don’t worry about me,” he said with a smile, but it looked forced. He lit yet another cigarette.

You looked at your work for a moment before getting an idea. “Ya know, if you played something it might pass the time…,” you glanced up at him with your eyebrows raised, he scoffed. Slyly you added, “but if you’re too shy-”

Javier huffed. “I’m not.”

“Sure, whatever you say!” You laughed mischievously. “It takes guts, doin’ what I’m doin’, letting my art be a spectacle for the people! It’s not for everyone!”

Javier flicked the half finished butt to the ground, walking over to the side of the porch where you were painting, his spurs ringing out dramatically with each step. He said nothing, but grabbed the guitar from Boaz’s saddle and climbed the ledge to sit next to you against the building. He strummed the strings once defiantly looking up at you. His attention was drawn forward when a group of townsfolk walking by stopped momentarily to seek out the sound. He pulled his hat a little lower and you heard him let out a small sigh. Your smile couldn’t be bigger.

Finally he collected himself and began to strum a small tune quietly. You sighed in satisfaction at the sweet music. His playing never failed to relax you. As you swiped more paint onto the sign you felt your hand flow a little more freely, the swirls and adornments you were adding to the edges were just a little more playful. When the last note of his song rang out, the gentleman reading his paper on the balcony next to you gave a thankful clap. You beamed at Javier.

He just groaned. He didn’t look so tough and scary with the guitar in his lap. You figured that might be why he only played in camp, because he felt comfortable enough to let his guard down a little. Your smile faded to a look of concern.

“You don’t have to keep playing if ya don’t want to,” you said softly so only he could hear, “I’m sorry I forced the issue.”

He pushed his hat up and glanced at you through his eyelashes. “It’s alright. It was actually kind of fun.” He shrugged before assuring you again, “I’m not shy.” You couldn’t be sure before he pulled his hat back down but you thought you caught a little redness on his cheeks.

You smiled again. He could be so sweet. “Could you play El Coyotito?”

“Sing?” he exclaimed, looking up at you sharply before catching himself and adjusting his posture to examine his guitar, “Ehh, not yet.” he added, trying to recover his cool composure.

He took a deep breath and began to strum again, this time louder. You loved the song he’d chosen. It was one he practiced at camp fairly often but the melody never got old for you. You softly hummed along, painting away until suddenly he stopped with a scratch of his strings. Glancing up you saw a coin sitting at his feet. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at you with an amused look on his face.

“I told you! You’re really good!” You cheered for him, glancing back at the passerby who’d tossed the coin. They looked a little bewildered that Javier had stopped but carried on their way.

“I guess so,” he mused, picking up the coin and pocketing it.

“If you place your hat in front of you maybe it’ll happen more often,” you suggested with a shrug. You knew he took excellent care of that hat so the likelihood of him doing that was low. He just chuckled in reply before plucking away with another tune.

You smiled peacefully as you enjoyed the music.

~~~

Evening took hold before you two had realized it. With the last swipe of the brush you completed your work for the shop owner. You stepped down off the deck and into the street to examine your work. Javier joined your side, guitar in hand.

“You did a great job,” he praised, adding, “your hands must be exhausted.”

“Speak for yourself!” you laughed. Javier had played by your side for hours, taking a break to eat lunch with you and to smoke but otherwise strummed most of the day away.

“Eh, I was glad to have the chance to practice,” he said with a content smile. You loved the way music changed his mood. He was like a different person when he played, brighter and happier, like all the stress of the outlaw life melted away with the melodies.

“The folks around here seemed glad for it too,” you said, motioning to the coins in his pockets. Around midday you had placed your spare hat down for him, and it worked as you hoped. Folks milling about admired the music with both praise and cash. By the end of the day you’d both earned a tidy sum.

He just shrugged, grinning.

You both walked back to the shop together to collect your payment. The shopkeeper was thrilled with your work, and grabbed Javier’s hand to shake, leaving him with a tip as well. “Ya’ll brought me more business today than I’ve had in weeks, if you’re ever back in town you’re welcome to stop by and play again!”

You both bashfully thanked him for everything before walking back to your horses. The sun was beginning to set when you mounted up again. You turned your horse to head back to camp when Javier stopped you.

“Before we go… could I buy you a drink?”

You looked curiously back at him, you were covered in stray splotches of paint and not really dressed for going out. You figured if he was asking though he didn’t mind all that. “Sure, but what for?” There was playful suspicion in your voice.

He was still grinning happily when he said, “celebration for our first honest day’s work.”

You both laughed as you pulled your horse alongside his and made your way merrily together to the nearest saloon.

#Javier Escuella #Javier Escuella x Reader #GN!reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #my love #daily escuella #fluff #dutch van der linde #vdl gang

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cryptid-killjoy · 2 years

Text

Bastien never had a Valentine’s Day where he had a real girlfriend before much less a wife, so this felt like it should be special. But, he wasn’t sure what he should do. He thought of roses, chocolates, and hearts, all the usual things in stores. But, despite having a debit card deeply lining his wallet he sat there brushing all that aside.

He looked up periwinkle. He couldn’t get the color out of his head. He felt transfixed on it, obsessed. It was a flower. Maybe he could find those instead of roses? Those, it turned out were very hard to find even in very esteemed gardening centers right now and florists. He’d have to special order. He wasn’t into that.

But, he sure was into what he was reading the deeper he delved into the history of the plant. It had several off shoots depending and most sites went off on some purity of hope blah blah blah pretty things symbolism. But, this plant had richer history than that and when he found it he thought it was destiny yet again.

Kismet. Maddy was the periwinkle god damn reaper. He knew it. He felt it in his god damn bones. Everything he was reading now gave him goosebumps. The hair on the back of his neck rose as he read along.

So, he got out his sketch pad and folded a page in half like a card. He tried to draw the periwinkle flowers on the outside of it since he didn’t have any real ones. He put a few hearts in there to round it off with the V-day theme. So, she’d see that’s what it was for when he gave it to her.

On the inside he’d write down the gist of the information he just found out for her.

The Periwinkle Flower has also been known a long time ago as the Sorcerer’s Violet. It was known as the Flower of Death.

This was because of an old ritual of placing periwinkle flower crowns on the heads of condemned people. There was even a very odd rhyme that referred to it.

“Crowned one with laurel leaves hye on his head set other with pervink made for the giblet.”

When carried is used to keep away poisonous snakes and evil spirits. When gazed upon they restored lost memories.

Periwinkle is the “something blue” referred to in the original wedding rhyme knotted in the garter and used for marriage fertility. Periwinkle symbolizes immortality and love between a man and wife.

Seeing Kismet on our first Valentine’s Day,

I have a feeling I’m going to keep seeing it again and again because you are made of this and we were meant to be.

Love, Your Bastien

But, of course before he gave this card to her he was greeted with his gift and he sat there with his folded page in his hand. He almost passed it over to her as he opened up the book. But, when he saw the first page his hand froze mid pass. Then it slowly started to drop back down to the table and just held it. The flower side was up. So, she’d be able to see it was a card for her. But, he just hadn’t quite managed to get it to her yet.

That initial seeing how she was dressed when he first sat down and looked up nearly knocked the wind out of him.

Now, he was trying to figure out how to function again.

He didn’t know about pancakes yet. But, just seeing her like that was causing the best malfunction he’d ever felt. Walking malfunction entered his head.

Then he suddenly popped back on. “Um. Woah. Real is so much better.”

He pointed down at his lap. “Y-you should sit here and look with me.” Yeah. She should sit right there and go through the book with him where he could reach her. He started to lift the card again.

#bastienxmaddy

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ninzied · 3 years

Photo

that which we call a rose

based on the prompt: a hello/goodbye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

happy valentine’s day, kastle fam!

On the second Thursday of every month, Karen can’t help the extra spring in her step. There’s no point in trying to hide it—she does have an office adjacent to Matt’s, after all—but until she knows what it even is, she’ll let her friends draw their own conclusions.

This month is no exception.

“So…hot date tonight?” asks Foggy, precisely ten minutes after Matt’s said goodbye. Though Foggy’s doing his best to sound nonchalant, he’s clearly been waiting all day to spring the question on her. “You haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in this morning. And that was before we even had coffee. What gives?”

“Not a date,” says Karen lightly. “But a something.”

“Wait.” Foggy looks up from his briefcase, dropping every pretense now. “Yeah? That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Karen.”

She looks a little bemusedly at him. “Thanks, Foggy, but it’s not a big deal. Just takeout and whatever’s on TV tonight, probably.”

“Hey,” says Foggy. “Not gonna lie, but that sounds pretty appealing right now.”

Karen lets out a laugh. “Why? What’s stopping you and Marci?”

“You know how she gets about this kind of thing.” Foggy glances at his watch, and groans. “Shoot. I still have to pick up flowers. I can’t afford to be late—literally. This place had like a five-month wait list for tonight, and I think there’s a surcharge if we hold up one of their tables.” He throws her a rueful smile. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” says Karen, in a tone that she hopes will come across as commiserating rather than slightly confused. Was there some memo about today that she missed?

“And you have a good ‘not a date but a something,’” says Foggy, practically beaming at her. “You can”—he gives a comical wag of his eyebrow—”not tell me all about it tomorrow, sound good?”

“Sure,” says Karen, smiling distractedly. She waits until Foggy has gone, the door closed securely behind him. And then she picks up her tiny desk calendar, which she’d forgotten to flip over to February, and looks down at today’s date.

Oh. God.

…

The signs are everywhere, on her walk home from the subway.

For the life of her, Karen doesn’t know how she could’ve missed them before. Paper hearts plastered on storefront windows. Floral shops spilling out onto the sidewalks. Restaurants boasting their two-for-one specials. And the couples. All the couples, wherever she turns.

By the time she’s at her apartment, Karen is nearing levels of genuine panic.

She hangs up her work clothes as if on autopilot. She pulls on a worn pair of leggings and a soft, oversized sweater before pausing to reconsider, and then she changes out of that too. This isn’t just any second Thursday of the month anymore.

She checks her phone, in case Frank has canceled.

She does have a text from him, but all it says is that he’s running about a half hour late—his latest demolition site is all the way up in the Bronx, and traffic is a bitch right now—but how does she feel about Vietnamese for dinner?

There’s no doubt in her mind that the day has not occurred to him either.

Perfect. I’ll be ready with the wine, she sends back, and immediately wonders what has come over her. Beer would’ve been the more appropriate choice for this very much not-a-date, and besides that, they never drink wine together. Whiskey, sometimes, but they’d finished off her last bottle of Maker’s the last time he was here.

Wine is different. Wine means something. Right?

What was she thinking?

And what on earth is she supposed to wear?

…

Karen answers the door an hour later, back in her sweater and leggings. She breathes a small sigh of relief to find Frank there in his typical attire—jeans, with a faded black henley, and a crooked half-grin as he steps over the threshold into her apartment.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he says back, like it’s just another day. Like this is just another dinner for them to catch up. He holds up a bag and says, “Hungry?”

“Starving.” She reaches for the food so he can get out of his coat, but he waves her gently off.

“’S’okay, I got it.” He looks at her, his gaze going warm. “Think you said there’d be wine?”

And just like that, the rest of her anxiety melts away. There’s still a light flutter of nerves in her stomach, but that’s something else.

Something that she’s always going to feel whenever she’s around him, whether it’s Valentine’s Day or not.

…

Despite how casually Frank is dressed, there’s always a sense of formality to the way he moves around in her place. Like he’s not quite sure whether he’s intruding or not.

He carefully folds his jacket over the back of her couch before taking the food to her kitchen, unpacking each dish as she pulls out the wine.

She tells him about work—minus Foggy’s theories on how she planned to spend her evening—and Frank doesn’t say much, but she knows that he’s listening, attentive to her as ever.

Somewhere between the first and second glass of wine is when he starts to loosen a little, leaning his elbows onto the counter, swiping the last bite of spring roll from her plate.

He tells her small stories about how work has been going for him, and each time she laughs he ducks his head down, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

They end up eating half the food before realizing they’re still standing in her kitchen.

Frank takes their wine to the couch, and she turns the TV on at low volume, flipping aimlessly through the channels.

They settle on a cooking show, which would’ve surprised her one year ago, before these Thursday night dinners. Before he teased her for the one frying pan that she owned and resigned himself to eating takeout from then on. Before they learned to laugh about things like what Matt said at work that day, or the fact that Frank hasn’t had to kill anyone with a sledgehammer. Not recently, anyway.

“All right,” he says, pointing at the pasta on her TV screen. “Next month, we’re doing this at my place for a change, and I’m making you that.”

She doesn’t know why she does it.

Maybe it’s his casual reference to next times. Maybe it’s how closely they’ve wound up sitting together, with her thigh snug against his, the arm he’s draped warmly over the back of the couch right behind her.

Maybe it’s the way this not-so-random Thursday in February feels as though it could become something like every day, for them.

“Deal.” She puts a hand on his knee without even thinking about it, smiling as she tells him, “All right, I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.”

“Okay,” says Frank, turning to smile back at her.

It happens so fast, so instinctively that before she knows what she’s doing, she’s leaning in, and pressing her mouth briefly to his as she stands from the couch.

Like this is an everyday kind of thing for them too, kissing each other before one of them’s about to leave the room.

Karen makes it down the hall without any memory of how her legs have carried her there. Oh God. Oh God.

Her cheeks are flaming when she shuts the bathroom door behind her.

…

After splashing water on her face, and dabbing it dry with shaky hands, she looks in the mirror and wills every last part of her being to get a freaking grip. This is Frank, and she can be honest with him. Even if it means being honest with herself.

She knows what this is. She knows what she wants it to be. And she’s done letting either of them think that anything less is going to be enough for her.

Karen takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom.

…

She hadn’t been gone long, but apparently it was long enough.

The TV’s shut off, their wine glasses cleared from the coffee table. He’s not on the couch.

He’s not—anywhere in her living room.

But as she moves closer, she sees his coat still folded there, and then she hears the sound of movement in the kitchen. She doesn’t know whether she’s more relieved or apprehensive at the prospect of facing him right now, but she supposes she’s grateful she even has the option to decide between the two.

Frank’s clearing the counter, so she can’t get a good read on his face. He’s quiet, though, brows creased together even more somberly than usual, and the fact that he won’t meet her eye should tell her everything he’s not saying out loud.

Their leftovers are stacked neatly next to the takeout bag. He slides the bag out of her way as she picks up the food containers, storing them in her fridge. There’s a six-pack of beer on one of the lower shelves, the bottles clinking together as she closes the door.

“Frank,” she says, careful not to look over at him, “I think we should talk about what we’re doing here.”

He swallows audibly. And then he says, “Yeah. I know.”

She glances at him, wishing she weren’t as surprised as she feels. She’d expected more resistance from him, if not outright denial. It’s unfair of her, she knows; Frank’s abysmal track record notwithstanding, he’s still here, despite the fact that she’d just snuck a kiss out of him without his permission. That has to mean something.

Right?

God love him, though, but he can’t seem to keep his hands still. He grips the edge of the counter, and then reaches into the takeout bag, a rustle of paper and plastic that echoes overloudly in the silence between them.

Karen presses her lips together, biting back a refrain about how now is probably not the time for dessert.

Instead, Frank pulls out a small bouquet of white roses.

She stares as he sets them down on the counter. When he looks up at her, it’s with an intensity that nearly knocks her off her feet, and she grips the counter edge too in order to steady herself.

His gaze is unwavering on hers. “I’ve been thinking about this day for a while.”

She blinks at him, a part of her still wondering if it’s wrong of her to hope. “You have?”

“More than anything.” He shifts closer, and now she can see the last of the fear in him too, how he’s finally reached past it for something—for more. The edge of her own fear starts to soften, giving way to that fluttering lightness only Frank can make her feel.

Karen steps forward, marveling at the shared heat between them without their bodies actually touching. “And what, exactly, have you been thinking?”

Frank brings his hand up to the back of her neck, and she closes her eyes as he pulls her in.

He kisses her, and it’s everything Karen has wanted, everything she could only pretend that she hadn’t been waiting for all this time. He kisses her, and she knows how long he’s been wanting, and how hard he’s been waiting for this too.

He draws in a hoarse breath when they part. “I wanted to get this right,” he murmurs.

“Well,” says Karen, trying—failing—not to smile, “you want to know what I think?”

He tightens his arms around her. “What?”

“I think this is a good place to start,” she says, and leans in to kiss him again.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork

190 notes · View notes

we-love-imagines · 3 years

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Sunday Sniffles

Valentine’s Event: Day 4

Prompt: Rohan + Domestic

Ao3 Link

Author’s Note: Hi! This one is a bit of a sick fic, but it isn’t very gross, just a little fever. I’m so excited for the Rohan ova to go to Netflix, I haven’t gotten the chance to watch them on my own so I’m super excited. I love Rohan so much, he’s so fun to write for! Expect a lot more Rohan content soon!

As you opened your eyes, groaning softly as you woke up, you noticed the man that was beside you when you went to sleep was long gone. To most people, waking up to an empty bed would be upsetting, but you had grown used to it. You and your fiancé, Rohan, were busy people, and there wasn’t much time for early morning cuddles. There was coffee to make, pages to draw, and work to be done.

However, you both had the tendency to run yourselves ragged. As you rolled out of bed, your legs felt like jello, and your sinuses were extremely sore. As you headed to the bathroom, chills ran up and down your spine as you sniffled and coughed, your head pounding as every step felt like a mile. Realization hit you, however, when you entered the bathroom and flicked the lights on. Your paled cheeks and reddened nose gave it away- you had gotten sick.

After washing up a little, you hoped the icky feeling that coated your body would disappear so you could get some work done; alas, it did not. You slung a blanket over your shoulders, wandering down the hall to your fiancé's office on shaky legs.

“Rohaaaaaan,” you called, your voice hoarse, before opening the door, “I’m coming in.” He always got a little miffed when he was interrupted, but he was used to you stopping in around this time to say ‘Good Morning.’ Not noticing the weak warble of your voice, he didn’t think to take his eyes off his work.

“What is it, (Y/n)?”

“Babe, I think I’m sick,” you told him, before sneezing, “I don’t think I’ll be able to look over your pages today, I’m sorry.”

Setting down his pencil, he turned to face you. The moment he laid eyes on you, he could definitely tell you weren’t bluffing- you looked like death. While Rohan could certainly overdo it at times, your job as a manga editor had you working yourself to the bone a lot. You not only checked for continuity and general errors in a multitude of mangakas’ manuscripts, but you also were their main consultant, bouncing around ideas with them whenever they seemed stuck. While you were the editor for Pink Dark Boy, Rohan was very self-sufficient, so he never needed much from you. However, as of late, the other mangakas under your care were getting quite needy, putting a little too much on your plate for the past week or so.

“Let me take your temperature,” Rohan stood up, taking your hand and dragging you into another room. He pulled out a little thermometer, placing it in your mouth- just as he expected, the temperature rapidly rose.

“You have a fever, my dear,” he sighed, looking over your weak form, “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” To most people, Rohan seemed like a heartless bastard; Hell, when you first became his editor, you thought so too. However, after getting to know him better, you quickly found that he could be rather sweet if he wanted to. After years of going out, you discovered that said kindness seemed to only be extended to you and a few close friends. Whenever he’d call you little pet names, or hold you like he was right now as he walked you back to your shared bedroom, you reminded yourself of why you fell for that heartless bastard in the first place.

Tucking you back in under your covers, he sat you up on some extra pillows, grabbing some extra blankets from the closet to warm you up even more.

“Tea?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves.

“Babe, you don’t need to baby me,” you told him, prying off some excess blankets, “Go back to work, I know you’re busy. Besides, I have a few calls to make-”

“No, no (Y/n). You’re not doing any work today,” he protested, taking the blanket you were trying to get rid of and putting it back on top of you, “The more you try to do today, the longer your fever is gonna last. You’ve been working too hard lately, anyways. It’s probably the reason you’re sick.”

“But the other mangakas need me, at least let me call them-”

“Dear, they’re creative people, they can manage for a few days while you recover,” he cut you off, making a snide face. He never liked how busy those other mangakas made you- they always seemed to rely on you too heavily for ideas.

“Until then, you’re staying right here. I’m going to make you some hot water for your throat- would you like to read something?”

“Again, babe, you don’t have to fuss over me,” you chided, shooing him away, “I won’t go into work today, but I can make my own tea. You have pages to finish.”

“I know I have pages to finish, but I’m ahead of schedule. Is it wrong of me to ensure my fiancée is well taken care of?” Rohan rolled his eyes, a cocky little grin on his face. He knew you hated when he was right. “What if I wanted to fuss over you anyways, hm? We’re both so busy, I don’t have the time to properly spoil you like I should.”

“You sly dog,” you smiled back at him, sniffling in between words, “You’ve been waiting for something like this, haven’t you?”

“Guilty is charged,” he chuckled, rolling up his sleeves before placing a box of tissues on your nightstand, “I’ve been wanting a nice, easy day with you for awhile. While your condition isn’t optimal, I’ll take any chance I get.”

Without another word, he rushed downstairs to fetch you some warm water as you reached for the drawer in your nightstand, pulling out a book you’ve been meaning to finish. Rohan came back to your room, not only with some hot water and a variety of tea bags to choose from, but with a large breakfast, too.

“You’ve got to drink lots of warm water and eat right so you can get better, okay?” he instructed, setting the tray of food deftly on your lap. You also noticed his ‘go bag’ of art supplies slung over his shoulder. He always carried that bag around when he was out of the house in case inspiration suddenly struck him, so he could draw whole pages of manuscript then and there. He set it down, gently, in the corner of the room; if this bag was with him, it meant that he was staying by your side all day.

Sitting on the bed next to you, Rohan made conversation with you while you ate, cleaning up soon after you were done. He spent the whole day like that, lying beside you, making sure you were okay.

“Rohan, you shouldn’t cuddle me,” you weakly argued, trying to push the man currently spooning you away, “I could get you sick!”

“I don’t care. It’s been too long since we’ve gotten to just lay around together, Dear,” he shot back, nuzzling into you. While you wanted to protest further, the warmth of his body and the endearing pet-name made you complacent. Soon enough, you found yourself drifting off in his arms.

Seeing as you were ill, you had a hard time staying asleep, but Rohan would always lull you back down, comforting you like a mother singing to a baby. While part of you wished he was getting his work done, it felt so nice to finally spend some quality time with your future husband. Your little chats in between naps actually included a lot of wedding planning- something you were both too busy to think about since he popped the question. Also, even though you felt a little bad about it, it felt really nice to be doted on like this. Rohan was being so sweet and gentle with you, which was a very nice change of pace compared to his usual prickly personality.

Suddenly, you found yourself waking up, the electric clock on your nightstand showing that it was the early evening. Did you just spend all day in bed? Despite the frail feeling in your limbs, or how gross your face felt, it was so nice to lounge around all day.

Behind you, you heard a little snore coming from Rohan. Carefully, you turned over to face him, making sure to go slow enough not to wake him. As you settled back in, you saw how peaceful his face was, all of the tension in his body gone as he slept.

It felt nice to wake up to his face again. From here on out, you two would make sure to save some more time for each other.

#jjba #jjba x reader #rohan x reader #rohan kishibe x reader #rohan #rohan jjba #jjba rohan #rohan kishibe #jojos bizarre adventure #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken #Valentines Day event

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unsettledink · 3 years

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Worth the World - Fluffuary Day 23

Prompt: Flowers

Words: 5463

Summary: Valentine’s Day is not Peter’s favorite holiday by a long shot. And it’s not just because he’s a little jealous of everyone else showing off gifts from their partners.

But it’s still really nice that an unknown someone sent him a gift this year. Or two. Or— okay, this is getting out of hand.

Valentine’s Day.

Ugh.

Peter sighs. Without a doubt, this is his least favorite holiday. It’s just…

It’s not, as MJ would say, because it’s an over commercialized performative display of heteronormative romance (or something like that; he might have gotten it jumbled up a bit). It’s not even that he doesn’t have—and never has had—someone to spend it with, like Ned tends to suggest. Though that sucks too.

It’s watching his classmates get flowers and silly singing telegrams and cakes, watching them wander around the rest of the day with balloons trailing behind them and juggling their gifts, everyone seeing it. He’d said as much to Tony—Mr. Stark—a few days ago when he’d apparently been too mopey to be ignored. Which is kinda embarrassing.

He hadn’t known how to really explain the difference between being sad not to get anything and not being sad he didn’t have anyone. It— he would have been just as happy if May sent him something silly; it was about people knowing. It was— kind of selfish, really. No matter how he stumbled around trying to say it, it just sounded bad. In the end, he’d settled for saying it was about wanting to feel normal again, for a little bit.

He knows Tony doesn’t think much of that.

It doesn’t really matter. Peter’s never gotten anything before, and it’s not like that’s going to change just because it’s his senior year.

Most of the teachers have given up on getting anything real done during Valentine’s Day, with all the interruptions, but not Mrs. Powell. She’s right in the middle of drawing on the whiteboard—and as far as Peter is concerned, first period is too early for trig--when someone knocks on the door. First delivery of the day, looks like. He stares out the window; at least he doesn’t have to think about math for a few minutes.

“Peter Parker?”

Honestly, it doesn’t even register for a moment. It’s not until Ned pokes him in the side that Peter’s brain stutters back out of shocked white noise and starts running again. “Uh,” he says. “That’s me? I mean, I’m Peter Parker.”

Someone giggles.

The lady delivering just smiles at him though. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she says, and hands him a tall, slim vase, with just one perfect, dark red rose. Peter stares at it.

Ned elbows him again. “Who’s it from?”

There’s no tag, no note, nothing. “I don’t know,” Peter tells him. “It doesn’t say, so…”

“Oooo,” Flash says. “Parker’s got a secret admirer. Yeah right; you probably sent it to yourself.” Peter can feel how hot his face is and it probably just makes him look really guilty, but he didn’t. Not that he can prove it.

“Back to the reason you’re actually here,” Mrs. Powell says sharply, “maybe Flash can tell us the formula we need to use here.”

Peter has no idea if Flash gives the right answer or not, because he can’t stop staring at the rose. Can’t stop thinking, his mind spinning too fast.

Someone sent him a gift.

Part of him is still running through possible gift givers; not MJ, surely not. He can’t even imagine that. Ned’s heard him sigh about getting nothing plenty, but there’s no reason he’d do something now. May? Maybe, and he can totally see her forgetting to even include a note.

Maybe, he thinks with a sudden swoop of his stomach, it’s a prank. Please don’t let it be a prank. Maybe— maybe there actually is someone who likes him. Maybe there is.

But even with all that running through his mind, it’s background noise to the single, enormous feeling of actually getting a gift for Valentine’s Day, in front of everyone.

It’s really nice.

No one pounces on him in the hall between classes to yell ‘gotcha!’; he gets a few looks and a few smiles, but nothing suspicious. Maybe it really is for real.

Second period, Mr. Jackson doesn’t even try. Just puts on a movie and grades papers while everyone gossips as other deliveries start arriving, flowers and a teddy bear with candy and a singing telegram, and Peter is no longer the only one drawing attention, thankfully. It was nice getting it early in the day, though.

“Mr. Parker?”

It— it can’t be. He misheard. Right?

He raises his hand, slowly.

A gold box is deposited on his desk, all fancily embossed and no label. No note.

“Well?” Peter looks up, startled; he hadn’t even heard MJ scoot over in front of his desk. Well, it’s not like Mr. Jackson is paying attention, though it feels like everyone else is. “Are you going to open it?”

“Um,” Peter says. “Yeah, I— I guess? What if it’s like, a glitter bomb?”

MJ looks at him like he’s lost a few marbles. “Ooookay,” she says. “You’ll still have to open it eventually.”

True. “Well, here goes,” he mutters, and lifts off the top.

It’s chocolate covered strawberries. Really fancy ones, all decorated and different colors and some are even rolled in stuff. They smell amazing, not kind of artificial like a lot of strawberries do. Not that it’s something he noticed before the bite, but—

“Not glitter,” MJ says, and Peter laughs a little. This is crazy. “No note?”

Maybe they are from her? “Nope,” Peter says. “Uh, you want one?”

They taste pretty amazing too. He ends up sharing them with a couple other people; there’s at least two dozen of them and while he probably could eat them all before they got mushy, he’s pretty sure he’d feel sick.

He catches Ned in the hall after class. Gives him a strawberry too and takes a couple minutes to freak out at him before third period, because neither Ned or MJ share it with him. “Are you really, really sure it’s not MJ?” Ned asks him.

“I mean, does it even seem like something she’d do?” He doesn’t think so, but then— he might be wrong.

Ned barely considers it before he shakes his head.

Third period brings reading Hamlet out loud and a dozen roses.

They’re lighter than the first one, with a dark yellow center. Really, really pretty, and he gets a couple people ‘awwing’ over them. He still has no clue who is sending these. This is nuts. It’s just— it’s straight up crazy. No one else has gotten more than one delivery yet, and he’s gotten three. Who is it?

He pulls the first rose out of its vase and tucks in the center of these roses, trying to ignore the way a bunch of his classmates are looking at him and giggling. It stands out against the lighter ones; Peter bites his lip.

Please don’t let this be some elaborate prank, he thinks. He can’t really imagine why someone would put this much effort into it—and money, roses aren’t cheap for Valentine’s Day!—just to make fun of him, but then he doesn’t really understand why people started making fun of him in the first place.

Maybe it’s Flash. He wouldn’t care about the cost and he’d probably love to humiliate Peter in a big, showy way.

Ned’s mouth drops open when he sees Peter carrying this newest gift. “Wow,” he says. “This is crazy.”

“That’s what I said!”

He can’t concentrate even a little bit during fourth period. Ned keeps looking over at him every time Peter’s leg starts jittering again, but he can’t help himself. He feels nearly sick with nerves, waiting for whatever is next. Because three times— three times is a pattern. Three times means there’s almost definitely going to be a fourth.

There is.

This time it’s a box, a little bigger than his hand. He’s pretty sure this one isn’t a glitter bomb either, but he still hesitates.

Stares, once he’s opened it. “Dude,” Ned says, craning over. “What is it?”

“Uh,” Peter says, tilting the box so Ned can see too. “It’s a watch.” A really fancy looking watch; it’s not flashy, not like some of the really crazy watches Peter’s seen Tony wear, but sleekly elegant. Slim and dark and just— pretty. Something Peter could actually see himself wearing.

“Is that a Piguet?” Flash says behind him and Peter startles. “Seriously? When did you nab yourself a rich sugar daddy?” He eyes Peter, a slow once over. “How? I mean, come on, Parker.”

He says it all loud enough that people are staring, of course, and Peter’s face is so hot it hurts. “That’s not—” he says, “I’m not— I don’t! They’re not that kind of gifts!”

“Like you know anyone that could afford something like that,” Flash says before he saunters off. Why is he such a dick?

“You’re not though, right?” Ned says, much quieter. Peter gives him a betrayed look and Ned holds up his hands. “I don’t think you would!” Ned says. “It’s just. Really weird, that’s all.”

“I know,” Peter says, staring down at the watch, and a little of the excited, pleased shine has been rubbed away by Flash making things all… sordid. For second, he almost just closes the box and shoves it in his backpack, but— no. No, he’s not going to do that.

It fits like it was made to measure, and it looks good on him too.

MJ shares fifth period with them; “So?” she says. “Was there more?” Peter holds up his wrist and MJ’s eyebrows rise.

“Wow,” she says. “That’s actually really nice looking. I was kind of hoping for something flashier.”

Peter glares at her. “This whole thing is flashy,” he mutters, but even if he’s feeling pretty embarrassed… he’s kind of enjoying it too.

“Bets on what’s next?” MJ asks Ned. Ned shakes his head. Peter doesn’t say anything, but he’s pretty sure it’s going to be flowers again.

Maybe he should have bet, because he’s right. It’s roses again, two dozen of them, a slight lighter red than the first, and every single petal is edged with gold. Not like, yellow flower color gold, but literal gold foil or paint or something; it actually shines under the light.

Ned and MJ stare at them in silence right alongside him. “Well,” Mj says eventually. “That’s— flashier.”

“But like, classy,” Ned says. “I wonder if that’s real gold. That’d be crazy, right? Can’t be.”

Peter would almost be willing to bet it is.

He’s really, really wishing he had the first clue what’s going on.

He needs help carrying them to lunch, so Ned takes the smaller vase. (Okay, he could have carried them all but he would have had to sticky something and it might look weird.) He’s already getting plenty of attention; the glances and smiles from earlier have turned into stares and whispers, and in the cafeteria there’s all the other grades that haven’t seen things delivered. Peter kind of wants to hide out in the library for lunch or something, but he’s hungry. At least he can have a little break, right?

Wrong. So wrong. Because it seems like the second they set Peter’s flowers down, there’s a polite throat clearing behind him.

Peter turns, and there’s a guy with a bunch of bags. “Um. Hi?”

“Are you Peter Parker?” When Peter nods, the guys nods too and steps past him to put the bags on their table. They stare as he starts pulling out container after container after container, and there’s a noticeable hush at the tables around them, more and more people watching.

“This is a new one for me,” the guys says, casually. “Never thought of doing something like this for Valentine’s? But I might steal the idea for myself, next year. Anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day; enjoy!”

Peter pries open a container and the most amazing smell wafts out. His stomach straight up growls. “I… I guess this is lunch?” he says. Takes another look at the pile of containers. “Lunch for all three of us, actually.”

“I am dying to know who is doing this,” MJ says, opening another container, and Ned’s not wasting any time either.

“You and me both,” Peter says.

“Seriously,” Ned says and passes him a tray. “You don’t have any ideas at all?”

Peter shakes his head.

The food is good; scratch that, the food is amazing. Somehow everything is hot and nothing is soggy and every single thing is something Peter likes. There’s a soup in particular that Peter makes Peter nearly moan when he takes the first bite.

It’s… familiar? How— why does he know this dish? Where has he had it before?

He closes his eyes when he takes the next bite and tries to stop thinking for a second. Not very successfully, but it doesn’t matter because the memory hits him like a brick.

He’s had this in Tony’s workshop.

Peter doesn’t know the name of the place—though he’s pretty sure it’s a lot closer to Stark Tower than it is to his school—but he knows this dish. Tony orders in food for them pretty often and this had shown up once and Peter had eaten every bit of it. Had been really obvious in how much he liked it, because it showed up several more times without Tony ever saying a word about it.

No one else would know that.

“Peter?”

He looks up; Ned’s frowning at him. “You okay?” he says. “You were just staring at your food for ages.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, his mouth dry. “Yeah, uh, I’m fine. I’m— yeah, fine.” He makes himself start eating again, but as amazing as it tastes he’s barely registering it, because Tony sent this. Tony had to have sent this. There’s no way someone else would just choose this out of the way, definitely does not deliver here restaurant, or this specific meal. And if Tony sent this, it means Tony sent everything else too.

Peter’s doesn’t know what to do with that fact. Theory. No, fact.

Tony sent him— why? Why would he do this? What possible reason could there be? It’s just— it’s crazy. Peter’s pretty sure it’s not a joke, even if Tony finds it funny, but that only makes it harder to understand.

Is it pity? Did he hear Peter complaining about not getting things and decide to fake someone being into him so Peter wouldn’t feel left out? Does he feel sorry for Peter?

Was he ever going to tell Peter it was him, or just let him keep wondering forever?

He can’t wait for school to be over now, because he needs answers.

Fifth period, he knows exactly what to expect, and Tony—probably Tony, 99% sure Tony—doesn’t disappoint. Roses, more roses, over two dozen for sure but Peter’s not counting, white with dark, dark red edges. Roses, and every time Peter ever smells roses again he’s going to think of this; he doesn’t know if that makes him want to cry or not.

Because even if Tony isn’t doing this for a laugh, or out of pity, he’s not doing it because he actually is interested in Peter like that.

And Peter desperately, desperately wishes he was.

By the time sixth period comes around, everyone in class knows that Peter Parker is (supposedly, thanks Flash) getting a gift every hour from his sugar daddy, and everyone is watching him, just waiting for what’s next. Peter hunches his shoulders and puts his head down and gets more and more tense as the minutes tick by and nothing appears.

It’s not until the last ten minutes of class that the gift is delivered, late enough that Peter had started to hope that maybe that was it. This gift comes in another box, about the same size as the watch box but slimmer. Peter takes a deep breath before he opens it.

Snaps it shut a minute later, before Ned’s even had a chance to lean over.

Oh, god.

“Peter,” Ned hisses. “What is it? Come on, man. Why do you look like that?”

Peter shakes his head; leans over and whispers in Ned’s ear. “It’s a key,” he says. “A— a car key.”

Ned’s just as wide eyed as Peter feels. “They got you a car?” Ned whispers back.

“I think so?” Peter says. He doesn’t know what else to think about the key and fob in the box. Or the little card tucked in with them: Don’t worry, FRIDAY has the wheel until I get the chance to show you some real driving.

He guesses Tony isn’t trying to hide after all. Oh my god, Tony got him a car. Probably a ridiculously expensive, ridiculously fast, ridiculously flashy car, and Peter doesn’t even know how to drive. Not really. Stealing Flash’s car doesn’t count for much. What is he going to do with a car? Where is he going to keep a car?

What is Tony thinking?

He knows what he wishes Tony is thinking, as impossible and hopeless as it is. Because it is. It is, utterly and completely, no matter how Peter wishes this was Tony wanting to… to court him, in his usual over the top way. No matter how much Peter wants to think that this might actually mean something, it doesn’t. He knows that.

“You still don’t know who it is?” MJ whispers, and it’s really unnerving the way so many people are staring at them.

“Uh,” Peter says. “Actually—” He sighs. “It’s Tony.”

For a minute, she doesn’t get it. “Tony— wait. Are you. You mean. Really?”

“Does that mean you’re, you know,” Ned says, making vague gestures. “Together?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

“So he just… does this sort of thing?” MJ asks.

“I don’t know,” Peter says. “I guess? I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

“Does he even get that it’s super weird?” Ned says, and Peter shrugs. Everything Tony has been involved with that included Peter has been pretty weird. Where is this supposed to fall on that scale?

Seventh period lasts forever, Peter resenting every second. He’s almost free. He’s so close to escaping and being able to ask Tony what the fuck is going on. Just half an hour. Just twenty minutes. Just—

“Peter Parker?”

No, no no no.

He puts his hand up and his head down, and when he lifts it again, there are roses everywhere. Dozens and dozens and dozens, every one of them the dark red of the very first one. How many are there? Did Tony buy out an entire florist? What is he thinking? What is Peter going to do with all of them? He doesn’t even know how he could get them home.

This is a nightmare; Peter puts his head back down and groans.

MJ laughs softly, and when he looks at her she’s sort of petting one of the roses. “He’s really going for some grand gesture thing, isn’t he,” she says.

If Tony was— if Peter was— if they were actually together, or if Peter believed for a second this was leading there, this would be incredibly romantic. Really, really excessive and ridiculous, but still. Really romantic too. And Peter would still be blushing so hard he almost thinks it’s never going to fade, but he’d also be so—

So happy.

Instead, he just wants to cry.

Miss Ahuja gives him permission to leave most of them in her room for a few hours, until he can figure out what to do with them, so Peter just takes the gold tipped ones and the yellow and red ones and the very first one with him.

And almost runs right into Happy when he comes out of the classroom.

“I— Happy?” Peter says, because this day just keeps getting weirder.

“Hey, Peter,” Happy says. “I was told to help you carry stuff to the car. What kind of stuff are we talking about? Why can’t you get it all?”

“Um,” Peter says. Leans back and pushes the classroom door open; Happy pokes his head in and sighs. “Wait, the car?”

“So it’s like that,” Happy says, whatever that’s supposed to mean. “Alright, kid. Got any friends to help out?”

“Yeah, um, Ned, can you—” and Ned’s already grabbing a vase, MJ right behind him. “Seriously though, the car?”

“The car,” Happy says. “Which I need the keys for. What?” he says when Peter frowns. “Tony had the thing dropped off, I guess.”

“Right,” Peter says. “Because that makes perfect sense. Why would he—” He sighs. “Right. Keys.”

“Could be worse,” Happy says while Peter digs out the box and hands it to him. “Could be a giant bunny.”

“A— a what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The car is not what Peter was expecting. Okay, he’s sure it’s incredibly expensive and fast, but it’s not flashy. At least, not overtly so, like a lot of the cars Tony drives. It’s silver and sleek and a convertible, so at least there’s still something wholly impractical about it. It takes them three trips to bring out all the roses and they completely fill the backseat, Peter having to stick a vase down by his feet as well.

“Where am I taking you?” Happy asks. “Home? May’s going to have fun with this.”

Oh no. No. “Actually,” Peter says, “could you maybe take me to the tower? I, uh. Think I need to talk to Ton— Mr. Stark.”

Happy snorts. “Going to read him the riot act, huh? Good luck with that. Not that he doesn’t deserve it,” he adds, looking over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Peter says, weakly. “Yeah, that.”

It festers inside him on the drive, this awful little fragment of hope that’s been growing ever since lunch. This tiny voice that keeps saying, what if he does? What if he is? What if he feels something?

It a really stupid voice and a stupid idea, but he has to ask something. Even if he can’t come out and ask it straight up, he has to at least ask something.

“Good luck,” Happy says when Peter climbs out. Pats him on the back. “Keys’ll be in the side pocket when you’re done.” Peter nods, not really paying any attention.

Tony’s in the workshop. Of course he is.

For a minute—for two, three, four, and FRIDAY doesn’t say anything so it’s okay—Peter just watches him, and wants.

Tony notices him eventually, like he always does, even when he’s in the middle of something. “Hey!” he says. “How’s it going, kid?” He grins, slow and obviously pleased with himself. “Have a good day?”

Peter walks a little closer to him. “I— I had a really weird day,” he says. “Um. I mean, thank you? That was— really—” Words fail him and he waves his hands around vaguely; he doesn’t even really know what he’s trying to say.

“Oh, you’re wearing it,” Tony says. “Good, here— lemme show you something. Right, so, tap the face three times and then turn the outer ring clockwise.” Peter does, because at this point, why not.

There’s a click, and then a moment later the watch is unfolding itself, spreading up his arm and down his palm. Is turning into a variation on his web-shooters. Peter stares at it.

“It doesn’t pack quite the punch your usual ones do,” Tony says, “but it’s easier to keep on hand all the time. Hopefully you can wear this anywhere without raising eyebrows, and it’ll be closer to hand then the nano ones even.”

Everything Tony has done today has been excessive and over the top and way, way too much, but this— this is the thing that breaks Peter. This is the thing that makes it obvious, makes it so, so obvious, that Tony put thought into this. That Tony didn’t just do this on a whim or for a laugh.

Right?

“Tony,” Peter says, slowly. “What— what exactly did you mean, with all this?”

“What did I mean?” Tony says, just as slowly, confused.

“Was it— was it a joke? Or—”

“No!” Tony says, cutting him off. “God, no, it’s not a joke. Peter— shit. I just. You sounded so down about being invisible for Valentine’s, and I thought— that, that you could have something nice for it. Should have something nice for it. And I could fix that? I—” He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “I wanted to give you a nice day. And— a little flex, you know? Since you have to hold yourself back so much already, I thought— why not show them someone thinks you’re worth the world?”

“Oh,” Peter says.

“I fucked up,” Tony says, “didn’t I. I’m sorry. I should have just— was it awful?”

“You didn’t— no,” Peter tells him, and he means it. “No, it wasn’t awful. It was nice, I did have a nice day. It’s just…”

“I know,” Tony says. “Too much.”

Yeah, but. If they were—

Peter liked it.

“So,” he says. “It was because you wanted to be nice,” and it’s so, so hard to force the next words out. “Was… was that it? All it was?”

Tony hesitates, looking at him. “Yes?” he says. “Was— is there something else it should have been?”

He was wrong. He knew it, he knew it and yet it still felt like a weight sinking right down though his chest, into his stomach. “No,” he says. Shakes his head.

“Peter,” Tony says. “Was there something else you thought it was?” And, a moment later, when Peter can’t quite bring himself to say anything but can’t quite manage to leave either, “Was there something you wanted it to be?”

He should say something. He should say something, because roses and watches that turn into web-shooters and Tony wanting people to think someone loved Peter. He should— “It’s just,” he says. “It’s. You know. Valentine’s Day. I thought— I hoped—” No, that’s not right.

“I wanted it to actually be because you—” God, he’s so terrible at this.

“Kid,” Tony says so softly, and this is where he tries his hardest to let Peter down gently, isn’t it. “Come here, will you?”

There’s no point in saying no, so Peter goes to him. Comes even closer when Tony gestures him forward, and then Tony reaches out and sets his hand on Peter’s hip and pulls him a step closer, until Peter’s standing between Tony’s legs. There’s a faint flutter of hope trying to rise up again, and Peter tells it to fuck off. This isn’t that.

“I’d be lying if I said that hadn’t occurred to me,” Tony says, and Peter stares at the casing on Tony’s chest, unable to look higher. “I’d— I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t on my mind while I was deciding what to get you, that I haven’t— haven’t thought of you like that. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

He’s not hearing this right. He can’t be.

“I couldn’t do that to you, Peter,” Tony says, and he sounds tired. “It’s more than a little fucked up for me to even be interested, much less act on it. I don’t— you’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and I don’t want you to end up damaged in the ways this sort of shit can. You don’t need that living in your head forever, don’t need me dragging you down.”

He is hearing this right. What the fuck. He is— and Tony is—

“Why are you so sure it’s going to go so wrong?” Peter asks. “It doesn’t have to?”

“It does,” Tony says. “It will. It— it always does, Peter. There are some gaps you just can’t bridge. And when it’s your first, it doesn’t ever really fade. It just. It doesn’t. I don’t want you to end up like—”

He sighs, and Peter finally looks up. Tony looks as miserable as Peter feels. “I want you to be better than me, kid.”

Peter thinks. Chews on his lip and takes his time because he has to do this right, he has to say this right, and Tony gives him that time. Just waits, quietly watching him, his hand burning on Peter’s hip.

“You keep saying what I don’t need,” Peter says finally. “And what you want, and like. I know you don’t think I’ll make smart decisions, and I know you want to protect me, but… why can’t I know what I need? What about what I want? For once, can I get to choose what happens to me?”

Why does everyone always think they know what’s better for him than he does? Maybe he’s still a teen, but he’s not stupid.

Tony’s pulled back a little, looking at him closer. “Alright,” he says, after what feels like ages. “What do you want?”

Maybe— maybe he can hope. “Can we try?” Peter asks. “For a little? At least see what happens? Because—” He swallows, hard. “Because I really want this, even if you think it’s a bad idea.”

“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll end up regretting.”

“Well,” Peter says, “that’s kind of already happened. A lot. So.”

The silence goes on and on and on, neither of them moving, and Peter doesn’t know what else to say.

So he ends up just blurting out the next thought in his head, like an idiot. “Would you— would you kiss me? Please?”

He doesn’t think it’s going to happen, even when Tony’s hand settles against his cheek, even when Tony leans in, even when Tony’s lips are almost on his. It doesn’t seem possible that it’s happening, but it is, and oh, fuck, it’s so good. It’s soft and barely more than brushing their lips together and even so, when Tony pulls back Peter sways after him, this tiny noise catching in his throat.

If the first one was good, this kiss is mindblowing, Tony’s lips opening under his and his tongue against Peter’s and his arms around Peter, pressing them together. Peter wraps his arms around Tony’s neck and clings, moans into Tony’s mouth and wishes he didn’t have to breathe.

“Jesus, Peter,” Tony whispers. “You can’t make noises like that, or I’m not going to be able to control myself.”

“Don’t,” Peter says, trying to tug him back. “Don’t bother. I don’t even want you to.”

Tony laughs and while Peter could make him get closer, he doesn’t want to use his strength like that.

“Okay,” Tony says, “so I knew it was a bad idea the second I bought it, and I didn’t think I was ever actually going to be able to give it to you, but I got you another gift.” Peter kind of doesn’t care all that much, but if Tony’s telling him now, there’s probably a reason.

“It’s over there,” Tony says, nodding at a different desk, and when Peter—very reluctantly—steps away to go there, Tony’s right behind him.

There’s a flat, rectangular box on the table, black, about as big as Peter’s laptop; it’s surprisingly light when he picks it up.

Inside, there’s this— this pale, pale pink, almost white, thing. This thing that’s all mesh and lace and a lot of straps and Peter’s not even really sure how it should go on, but his breath catches anyway with how hard and fast the want hits him.

“Please,” Tony says, pressed right up against his back, his chin on Peter’s shoulder. “Please tell me if this is too much, too fast, but I’m thinking you could go upstairs and put that on, so I can take it right back off. Yes? No?”

Peter can’t breathe. He nods, over and over, vigorously, and Tony laughs against his neck. “You want to try that in words, baby?”

Baby, Peter thinks, his brain completely short circuiting. “Yes. Yes,” he manages eventually, “I could absolutely do that. I would really really like to do that. I would love to do that.”

Tony sucks in a breath, and Peter can feel how he shudders, clinging a little tighter to Peter for a moment. “Okay,” Tony says, so softly Peter’s not even sure it was meant for him. “Good.” He steps back. “I’ll see you soon.”

Peter picks the box up; makes it halfway to the door before he gathers enough courage to stop, to turn back and say “Tony?”

Tony’s head snaps up, and he looks worried.

“Don’t take too long.”

There’s a second where Tony’s eyes just go wide, and then he’s smiling, grinning, growing slowly across his face. It’s so much happier than he’s looked since Peter showed up, and it feels— it feels incredible to know he made Tony smile like that. He made Tony happier.

He’s going to make Tony feel a lot of things. He’s sure of it.

AO3

#fluffuary #starker #ironspider #tony x peter #peter x tony #tony stark x peter parker #mcu #spiderman #posted a little late whoops #that got completely out of hand #my work #fanfiction

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denkamis · 3 years

Text

hq characters as cheesy valentine’s day tropes.

masterlist. | valentine’s day event masterlist.

warnings: none! aside from some swearing, it’s just some fluffy valentine’s day scenarios for you. reader is gn.

characters: keiji akaashi, kenma kozume, yuu nishinoya, koushi sugawara.

notes: dedicated to @koushisun,, for being an exceptionally kind individual and having immaculate taste in 2d men. i hope we can get closer the more we talk, kris. thank you for being my first friend here on da tumbz. <33

keiji akaashi

confessions behind the school building

were you nervous about finally confessing your feelings to akaashi on valentine’s day of all days? absolutely

he was one of, if not the prettiest, impressively athletic, and overwhelmingly intelligent boys in your class

he probably got at least ten confessions on the daily

and valentine’s day simply doubled the number

and here you were, with your tiny valentine’s day card and box of chocolates in hand

you had heard from all the girls that he had been turning down confessions left and right, only adding onto your mountain of nerves

little did you know that he was waiting for you

cherry blossoms bloomed above your heads, falling gracefully like something right out of a shoujo anime. you tapped the tip of your shoe against the pavement, a nervous tick you had garnered that helped keep you grounded. this was it. this was the moment today was leading up to. you and akaashi were standing behind fukurodani, stealing away a bit of privacy. you didn’t need the prying eyes of the other girls watching as you confessed to your year long crush.

akaashi waited with a patient gaze, unmoving from his spot a few feet ahead of you. he gave you space, and didn’t force you to talk right away. it was as if he already knew the intricacies of your thoughts, the way your mind spiraled if you were suddenly put on the spot, especially when it was as intimate and open as confessing your feelings.

“i wanted to tell you, i mean- what i’ve been trying to tell you for years is that i, well,” your tongue felt like it was two sizes too big. your fingers fidgeted behind your back, holding onto the tiny note and chocolates you had made for him yourself. “i like you a lot more than i really let on. you’re always so thoughtful and considerate. you listen to me when i ramble, and you help me with homework or even small things i don’t completely understand. that’s um, that’s really nice of you. i know you’ve probably received a lot of gifts today, but if you could spare a bit of your backpack space to accept mine, it would mean the world to me.” you bowed towards him, eyes glued to the floor as you held out the small box of chocolates and the note you had written.

you didn’t catch the way a smile tugged at his usually stoic features, or the way he tilted his head in thought while wondering how much courage you mustered up to confess like this. still, you felt nimble fingers brushing against yours, the weight of your gift leaving your grip.

“thank you, y/n,” akaashi told you gratefully as you stood up to your full height, “i’m glad that you feel the same as i do.”

“... wait what.”

kenma kozume

heart shaped candies

kenma rarely has plans for valentine’s day tbh

he treats it like any other day because it’s just a day to play some animal crossing and farm more on stardew valley

however, when you waltz into his life, he panics a little bit as the date draws closer

he wants to make you feel special on valentine’s day

he settled for those tiny heart shaped candies, knowing that you had quite the sweet tooth

he wasn’t gonna leave you hanging on valentine’s day, sweetheart

kenma held your hand in his as the two of you walked home together. the day was rainy, small droplets of water pattering against the shared umbrella the two of you were situated beneath. you were talking about school, something or other about the clubs you were in and how passionate you were about starting your very own this year. kenma listened tentatively, an easy smile on his face as he watched your eyes light up and your free hand gesture and fly about as you spoke.

you were adorable.

the two of you soon arrived at your house, and you promised kenma that you would call him tonight so the two of you could play games or watch some netflix together over the internet. you two had been particularly invested in some k-drama that always left the two of you at the edge of your seats. you planted a gentle kiss to his cheek, his face erupting in crimson right to the tips of his ears. giggling quietly, you wished him goodbye, your hand beginning to slide from his as you went to leave. to your surprise, he held on tighter.

with his gaze cast down, you watched as he pulled out a tiny bag of heart shaped candies from his pocket. “i know it’s not much, but i saw everyone else getting their partners gifts and kuroo said that it would be good if i got you something too.”

you accepted his small token of affection with shaky hands and flushed cheeks. peering inside the clear bag, you saw a whole collection of multi-coloured candies reading cheesy phrases such as ‘b mine’, ‘true love’ or even a ‘cutiepie.’

“kenma, i love it. oh my.. haha! i thought you forgot since you didn’t mention anything about gifts for today.” kenma’s hand squeezed yours, his eyes lifting from the wet ground to meet your own with a small yet confident smile.

“i wouldn’t forget something as important as you.”

yuu nishinoya

big teddy bears

an absolutely chaotic mess on valentine’s day

he’s so excited that he finally has someone to spoil, so he wants to go all out

he figured that the best present to get you was the biggest teddy bear he could find

he went to 6 stores and dragged asahi and tanaka with him

he saw a teddy bear that was literally twice his size and went “I’LL TAKE IT”

mans has no chill, he spent literally his entire allowance on it

his grandpa didn’t even bat an eye PFFT

when nishinoya showed up at your doorstep with a chunky teddy bear in tow, you had no words. truly. it had been at the stroke of midnight when he texted you to come outside and see the valentine’s gift he had gotten you. you had said that this could wait until morning, but he insisted that this could not wait another moment. it was technically valentine’s day, after all! this resulted in you dragging yourself down the stairs of your home to greet him at the door. to your surprise, yet at the same time not surprising you in the slightest, was noya carrying the largest teddy bear you had ever laid your eyes on. not only that, but tanaka and what appeared to be a very exhausted asahi accompanied him.

“y/n-chan!” nishinoya shouted boldly and triumphantly, getting down on one knee which instantly made you panic. he wasn’t going to propose, was he? no he wouldn’t. would he? oh god. your words got caught in your throat, trying to formulate some kind of response to his sudden and incoming declaration. yet, a proposal never came. he held up the teddy bear as if it were simba from the lion king, the entire stuffed animal basically shielding his shorter form from your view. you suppressed a snort with your hand.

“i searched far and wide for this gigantic teddy bear for you, please accept it this valentine’s day!” nishinoya said loud and clear from behind the bear. you were having trouble stifling your laughter because from your angle, it looked like the bear itself was saying these words to you. you attempted to take the huge bear from his arms but it ended up being a lot heavier than you anticipated.

“noya, really this is-”

“take the picture!” noya whisper shouted to tanaka, who was holding up his phone camera with a thumbs up. noya posed beside you with an arm tossed around your waist, throwing up a peace sign and sticking out his tongue. leave it to yuu nishinoya to spoil you with the biggest bear he could find. it was incredibly endearing, especially when you found out from asahi that he nearly got kicked out from a walmart after knocking down the entire teddy bear display. he could be the biggest dork sometimes. but you wouldn’t trade him for the world.

koushi sugawara

baking together

he saw the idea on pinterest and he had to try it out with you

they were cupcakes red velvet with pink, buttercream frosting

easy, right? it would be a cute little date, you could even stay over at his house while you watched a romcom or something of the sort while they were baking

turns out it wasn’t easy

at all

“shit fuck, oh god- shit!” koushi mumbled to himself as he was spilling some of the red cupcake mix over the side of the bowl. you were trying your best not to laugh too much but you couldn’t help your giggles when koushi shot you a playfully annoyed glare, his nose powered with sugar and flourmaking him look straight out of a victorian magazine. baking with koushi had gone just as well as you thought it would. there was a lot of flour being thrown around, a few stray chocolate chips and sprinkles now on the floor serving as reminders of past quarrels. koushi had always been a rather chaotic individual behind his “soft boy” demeanour he liked to flaunt. he could be so goofy and fun. he could be your greatest hype man but also the person you knew could be in your corner when it counted. and here the two of you were, making a mess in your shared kitchen at nine at night for a valentine’s day date.

“honey, you’re mixing it too fast!”

“i’m mixing it just fine, see look! it’s supposed to be this thick,” his ahoge bobbed back and forth atop his head as he mixed with quite literally his entire torso. his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused hardcore on the making sure the mixture was abolished of any and all chunkiness present. you rolled your eyes, a wide smile on your face despite his stubbornness. “the oven’s been preheating for thirty minutes now.”

“well the oven can wait,” he huffed, tapping the neck of the whisk against the bowl to remove the excess mix before grabbing a ladle to begin scooping all the mix into the muffin tin. not without another mess, of course.

“kou, stop moving the—”

“i’m not moving anything, you’re just making me laugh!”

“hand me the spoon, hand it over.”

“it’s not a spoon!”

“it’s a big ass spoon.”

“y/n!”

you were bickering like an old married couple as your hands reached greedily for the ladle that already had some cupcake mix in it. koushi held it out of your reach, causing him to back up into the counter while you hopped in an attempt to get it back. in your desperate attempts, you slipped on the flour from your little past war and caused the two of you to collapse to the floor in a heap of giggles and laughter.

yeah, you two would definitely never be touching any sort of recipe after that day, you absolute menaces.

tags:

@meilbox

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#hq scenarios #haikyuu!!#akaashi x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #nishinoya x reader #yuu nishinoya x reader #sugawara x reader #koushi sugawara x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #denkamis.scenarios

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