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hobie-enthusiast · 11 months

Note

totally real req and totally not based off anything you just said but you should totally write hobie making out w a trans male reader and calling them pretty boy totally mhm

totally an actual req mhm mhm it fs isn’t based off anything you just said nope that would be crazy

-🫓

PRETTY LITTLE KISSES !

— hobie brown x transmasc!reader

— comfort and fluff, making out, transmasc reader, dysphoria, kinda suggestive, petnames (sweetheart, love, my boy, pretty boy, handsome), hobie asking for consent cuz he loves that, hobie has a tongue piercing, hobie also calls reader a boy, reader has self-image issues

— a rather dysphoric day prompts hobie to let you know just how he sees you

— 🫓 anon giving me an excuse to write whats on my mind 🫶

You had a long day.

Of course, you always had these days. But this one was particularly harsh. Nothing looked right about yourself in your eyes. You nitpicked at every little feature you despised, that made you look feminine.

And even when you weren’t criticizing yourself in the mirror, you lied in bed, crying about those features. Curled up in a ball with your legs to your chest, alone in your bed.

You voted against messaging Hobie about it. He probably was out saving the city like usual. He was the most amazing guy in the world, and he happened to be your boyfriend. You really couldn’t understand why.

Someone as charming and as cool as him could get anyone he wanted. You knew that.

Night fell, and you were lying in bed, staring at the wall in front of you. Your face was dried with tears by now. But any other thoughts of it would definitely make you cry again. Any reminder would push you back over the edge.

Hobie, meanwhile, opened the door to the apartment, walking in and setting his guitar to the side. “[Name], swee’heart, ‘m back.” He called out.

He expected that to get your attention, as it normally did. But it didn’t. Confused, he walked towards your shared bedroom, opening the door to see your body curled up in the corner. His eyes widened for a moment when he sees the state you’re in. And he feels terrible.

“Oh han’some..” He cooed as you turned over and sat up, face a mess. He made his way to you, sitting on the bed as his thumb runs over your cheek. “Wha’ happened?”

You glance down, sniffling. “It’s nothin’. I’m being stupid.”

“No no, tell me what happened.” He insists, holding your hands in his own.

You debate on if you should explain your troubles. You knew Hobie would never judge you for it, but you felt weak. Would he even know how to help? This isn’t something he has to experience.

“I feel.. horrible.” You start, body drooping down. “I don’t look exactly how I want, like a boy. Maybe I was stupid for transitioning, I don’t know. But I feel like I’m pretending. Undeserving. It sounds stupid, I know..”

Hobie shakes his head, rubbing your shoulder. “Hey now, ‘s not stupid. ‘s okay..” He whispers in a comforting tone. “Those are valid feelin’s. And ‘s okay ‘f tha’s got ya down.”

His words go through your head, but you still feel terrible. He was kind enough to comfort you. You appreciated that. It just didn’t feel like it was helping.

But he continued his words anyways.

“But you are a boy, swee’heart. ‘s how you feel and that shows. You’re so bloody han’some, and ‘m sorry that ya felt this way all day.” He says.

You sigh, glancing up at him. “But it’s pathetic. The way I let this get me down. It shouldn’t.”

“Love, ‘s normal to feel this way.”

“It just.. doesn’t feel like that to me Hobie.” You whisper, body slumping down against the headboard.

Hobie took this as his moment to climb above you, raising your chin to meet his eye. He knows you need reassurance right now, you feel terrible. He had to be the one to give it to you. And boy would he.

“This okay..?” He questions gently. When he sees your nod, he leans in closely. “I think ‘ur the mos’ han’some boy in th’ world. Ya don’t think ‘m a liar, do ya?”

Before you could protest, he closes the gap between the two of you, capturing your lips in his own. Hobie Brown has a way of captivating you, distracting you from any bad feeling. And this was it. Pulling you close to him as he lets his lips dance with yours.

One kiss turns into two, which turns into Hobie pulling you into him, to a more heated session. His hands roam your body as his lips work wonders on yours. He’s got you right where he wants you, and is not going to let you go. Working to help you forget all your previous worries.

He pulls away for a moment, noticing the red tint decorating your cheeks and swollen lips. He takes his thumb, running it down your lips. “My pre’ty boy.. so fuckin’ han’some.”

Hobie’s words make your cheeks even redder, embarrassment flushing through your body. He knows how to reassure you, that his words go above and beyond for you. That much is shown in how shyly you glance away, avoiding his gaze.

“Ah ah, eyes on me when ‘m takin’ to ya, han’some.”

Well shit. He’s got you now.

And he knows he does, the smirk on his face growing. “My han’some boyfriend.. such a pre’ty boy.. can’t ‘ave him thinkin’ he’s any less, yeah?”

Without time to respond again, he dives back into your kiss, this time asking for entrance into your mouth. His piercing already feels so cool on your lips, quite the contrast to your hot cheeks. He loves this feeling, it’s so insanely addictive.

Once you let him slide his tongue in, you’re in absolute bliss. Hobie knows what he’s doing. His movements are meticulous and calculated, allowing your mouth to feel the smooth metal of his tongue piercing. He was driving you insane on purpose. And he’s eating up every moment of it.

Hobie wanted you to forget any doubts you had of yourself. If he could take them away, he would. But for now, he settles for making you forget, giving you something else to obsess over. It’s the least he can do.

Large hands find home on your hips as he rubs circles on them, drawing out any sounds he can get from you. Drawn out whimpers and moans that show you’re enjoying this. To show that he’s doing something right. That you felt amazing right now.

And you give him just that.

“Mm.. there it is.” He muses, ego through the roof. “Such a pre’ty boy, makin’ pre’ty sounds.”

“Hobie..”

He shushes you quietly, hands continuing their motions. “‘s true. You’re s’ han’some, ‘m so fuckin’ lucky. You know that?”

You fein silence, embarrassment seeping through you with Hobie’s words. He always thought so highly of you, you couldn’t see what he did. But hearing it from him, the effortlessly cool punk who chose you, was so insanely comforting.

Hobie was the best thing to happen to you. All your insecurities seem to come to a halt whenever he reassures you, using his words and voice to remind you of how valid you are. He has a way with words, one that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

“C’mon swee’heart. You look like ‘ur thinkin’.” Hobie pulls you from your thoughts, planting gentle kisses on your jaw. “Wh‘s on your mind?” He questions.

You smile softly, hands placing themselves on his arms. “Just thinking.. ‘bout how grateful I am for you.”

“Oh? Are ya now?” He smiles as he brings his head back up to stare at you.

Your hands move to his cheeks. “Yeah. With everything you do for me, ‘m the luckiest person in the world.”

Hobie couldn’t help but smile softly at your words, ruffling your hair. “Of course. You’re my boy.” He said in a loving tone, caressing your cheek. “Neve’ gonna le’ ya think any less, ‘kay?”

You nod carefully as you plant another kiss on his lips. After, you leaned your head on his shoulder, basking in the comfort of his presence. Yeah, Hobie would never let you feel like this without some sort of comfort.

Not on his watch.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie

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real-kastek · 2 years

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Darkened Drabbles: Chapter 18

I'm Okay

(No prompt, just third-person perspective practice.)

The world burns for a moment, screeching back into place and time.

A single blink, then back to darkness, then to light once more, the cycle repeating until shapes come into form.

”…ris?”

Even the sound hurts. Sound shouldn’t hurt, should it? That doesn’t seem right. Whoever was making that noise needs to be quiet. They had to know they were too loud. Maybe someone just needs to tell them?

”…you are! Oh, thank goodness! We we’re all worried sick, and-“

The noise wasn’t stopping. And now there’s something…fuzzy? Brushing along their face, itching, burning.

”I-If I had known you two were training, I would have dropped everything! Running the kingdom certainly takes up much of my time, b-but…”

A clammy hand slinks out from underneath the bedsheet, waving away the offending sights and sounds. In a flash, the human’s arm slumps back down atop the blanket, energy spent. That will have to do. Words would likely be better when communicating, ‘Please stop everything in the world right now,’ but a bit of flailing would have to suffice.

”…u-um, Kris?”

The pale blue Lightner opens their eyes, blurry shapes blending and bleeding together, until a white fuzzy face comes into view.

”…hi…sei…” The words barely slip from their lips.

A look of worry softens, forming into a relieved smile as the Darkner prince rises from the bedside, brushing his hands down along his robe. He sighs, linking them back together behind him, “W-Well, I erm…I’m glad you’re okay Kris.”

Lifting their head up for a moment, they fall back into the soft pillow, exhausted from the first movement.

”Ralsei? Where…?”

The mage clears his throat, “You’re safe. I-I believe there was a bit of an…accident, during you and Susie’s training this afternoon…?”

Kris squeezes their eyes shut, blurriness finally clearing, “…uh…y-yeah.”

”I…” Ralsei shakes his head sullenly, “If you had simply told me you two were training, I could have been there to ensure everything went okay. I know Susie has started to learn the basics of healing, but training so intensely has…risks.”

The human rises once more, barely able to make it a few inches up the headboard, “…she okay?”

The prince blinks, frozen for a moment before stuttering back to life, “W-Well, yes! She’s quite alright! Just…erm, tired?” A whisper of a smile pulls at his lips before immediately falling away, “B-But Kris! Come now, you were the one that was injured today! I know you two are quite apt with your abilities and techniques, but…” Ralsei sighs at the thought once more, “Susie said she wanted to practice her axe’s magical capabilities? That you were helping her when-”

Kris stretches painfully, finally sitting up in the bed. The blanket clumps and twists along their arm as they attempt to shove the cover away, only for a fresh agony to bloom in their shoulder. The pain freezes them in place, a cold sweat streaking down their back. The deafening wave of suffering begins to slowly calm; their once blue face having turned a searing crimson in the moment.

”P-Please be careful! I mended the wound itself, but your shoulder will still be inflamed and sore for quite some time. There shouldn’t be any true danger, but your body is likely reacting to the shock of it all and-“

”I-I’m okay…” They mutter, pressing a hand to their shoulder tenderly, “…she’s okay?”

Ralsei’s lips hang open for a moment, lost in worry, soon falling back into a soft smile, “…yes. She’s…well, actually-“

He steps away, emerald robe flowing around him. Squinting through the floating colors lingering in their vision, Kris watches closely, spying a quietly snoring dragon in the corner of the room, her arms linked tightly around her knees as she rests upon the floor.

”She…she hasn’t left.” Ralsei clears his throat, “…I think she wore herself out after carrying you here.”

”…wha…” A wave of dizziness slams into Kris as they shake the feeling away, desperate to be present and awake.

”I was still in the castle with Queen, discussing…erm, ‘possible acid pool functionality within the kingdom’…” Fuzzy hands squeeze the edges of his robe, “We were in the middle of a conversation when Susie burst through the main doors with you in her arms. She was…panicked, to say the least.”

Kris’ eyes scan the dragoness, still curled into the corner, the wall seemingly having become her pillow by this point. Stringy bits of mane stick to her face, pulling across her maw and twisting along her leather jacket. Her axe was tossed to the side, soaked bits of her shirt and jacket sticking to her scales with a crimson hue. Beneath the streak of crimson were paler, sickly-looking scales, her cheeks and face especially muted.

”…looks tired.”

Ralsei’s eyes bounce from the bedridden human, to the quietly slumbering dragoness.

”I…would imagine both of you are.” He bites his lip, “Kris…you didn’t look okay.”

A knot forms in the human’s chest.

”Susie didn’t either. She was…yelling. Screaming. I…haven’t seen her like that before. She must have carried you from the training field all the way to the castle. She said she…”

Kris sighs, slumping back down on their side, eyes still glued to the rise and fall of the girl’s form, “…didn’t block it fast enough. I said I would. She was worried, but I was…” They swallow sharply, “Wanted to help her practice. Guess one got through. Think I remember it hitting me before hitting the ground.”

A soft hiccup erupts from the girl as she nuzzles closer to her knees, her breaths quietly shuddering. Kris’ eyes narrow, watching her from afar, tracing the streaks of glimmering scales under her eyes. The light catches, the sight causing them to wince.

They pull their gaze away. The streaks were still fresh, the dampness under her eyes yet to dry.

”She’s been here for hours.”

Kris takes a deep breath, holding it for long enough for their chest to hurt, the air flowing from their lips.

”I’ve been checking on you every once in a while, but…” Ralsei’s fingers loop underneath his glasses, squeezing his eyes, “She wanted to be here.

”…I’m okay.” Kris mutters, burying deeper into their blanket.

The prince nods solemnly, “That’s…I’m glad to hear that. But, she told me…w-well, she said that, if you were to wake while she was asleep, that-“ Ralsei’s lips twist into a pained smile, “She said she’s sorry.”

The knot tightens.

He presses a finger up along his glasses, straightening them, “…I healed what I could, but there will still be lingering aches and pains I would imagine. I know you will need to return home soon, but perhaps it would be best to remain here for just a bit longer?”

Kris nods silently.

”Good. Well, I am going to inform Queen and the others that you’re awake. Despite her…eccentricities, she was noticeably concerned upon Susie’s arrival.” Ralsei grimaces, “I would imagine she may have told Lancer as well, so I should make sure they both know you’ve awakened.”

As silently as possible, Ralsei makes his way back to the door, the entryway creaking open as he slips past the threshold. He turns back for a moment, glancing from Susie to Kris, a concerned look twisting in his fuzzy features.

”You’re not…angry, are you?”

Kris’ eyes go wide, “W-What?! No, no! It was my idea, and she didn’t do it on purpose!” A wave of agony sweeps along their shoulder, barely noticed in their exasperation, “She didn’t…she doesn’t think that, does she?”

Ralsei smiles from behind the door, “…quite the opposite. She…well. You should perhaps speak with her when you two have a moment. Just…just the two of you.” His fingers tap along the doorframe, “Some of the things she said, what she was…yelling…”

Kris rises from the bed, fighting down the sickening pain, twisting and turning to find the prince’s expression.

”…she doesn’t want to lose you Kris.”

”Wha-“

”I’ll return soon. Until then, please get some rest, okay?”

With a click, the door closes back to silence, only the dragoness’ rumbling snores echoing into the room.

Kris’ eyes dance along the bed’s cover, pink and blue stripes blending together in their hazy vision. With one last huff, they fall back into the pillow’s embrace, eye twitching from the wave of pain blooming in their shoulder.

Another sharp snort breaks the quiet, Kris’ gaze turning back towards the bundled dragoness, her amber eyes burning through the darkness across the room.

They stare at her, words failing them, ”…hey.”

Susie freezes, staring back.

”I’m okay.” Kris mutters.

She tries to smile. For a moment, she does. Fangs form into a simple grin, her eyes filled with the usual energy, one normally followed by a snide comment or mocking jab.

But it drops away. All that’s left is shaking, her lips quivering as she tries, and fails, to calm her breathing.

The blanket is tossed to the side as Kris swings their legs over the edge, stifling the agonizing wave of pain in their shoulder. Fumbling for a moment, they meander across the room, slumping against the wall and down to her level. Susie draws her arms and legs close to her chest, the shaking worsening.

They fall into her, leaning their head on her shoulder.

”…I’m okay.”

Kris closes their eyes, the shaking beneath them dying away, a weight soon resting back against them.

#fanfic #deltarune #krusie #kris dreemurr #susie deltarune #ralsei #kris x susie #romance #angst #friendship

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tranquil-turbulence · 10 months

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SS Month ‘23 - Day 24

Day 23 | Day 24 | Day 25

Prompt: Heroes

WARNING(S): Non-graphic injury, AU-typical violence

A pounding on her door in the middle of the night startled her awake from a very dim slumber.

Sakura turned, squinting in the darkness at the alarm clock and its bright-red glare. One in the morning. Grumbling to herself, she rolled her eyes and swung her feet over the side of her bed and into her slippers.

The pounding started again as she yanked the robe she’d tossed carelessly over her computer chair on the way to the door. Irritably, she called, “Hold your horses, for heaven’s sake, I’m coming!”

By the time she made it and cracked it open, glaring tiredly at whoever was disturbing her much-needed sleep, whoever had woken her had slumped against the side of the doorframe. She could hear their shallow breaths from behind the door.

She took one look at him and heaved a sigh. “I thought I told you I don’t do house calls anymore.”

The taller man standing before her, arms folded, face creased in concern, answered, “This is urgent - and it’s not my fault this time.”

“Whatever. Just-- just bring him in. And be quiet about it, will you? I don’t need a noise complaint.”

She could hear the old hero scoop up his protégé in his arm and make his way into the apartment after her, shucking off his shoes as he went. When she turned, she noticed him yanking the younger hero-in-training’s boots off, and the sight was so unexpected it actually made her crack a smile.

Gesturing towards the living room, she slid the hair tie off of her wrist and messily pulled her hair back, brushing some stray hairs out of her face as she knelt before the couch. The hero obediently lay his student down, the blond’s pinched expression of pain making her frown in sympathy.

“Okay, so, first off. What the hell happened to him.” She gave him a pointed look as she got to work, healing green light hovering over his chest.

“One of his friends ran into a villain and called for backup. I got the distress signal a little too late.”

Clearly, she wanted to snark, but held her tongue. Sasuke was stressed out enough as it was, and the little blond boy’s hitched whimpers of pain as she inspected the shredded material of his sleeve was only making it worse.

"Mild lacerations to the abdomen and right bicep," she muttered to herself. “Did he break anything?”

“Just his brain, if he thought not telling me first was a good idea,” he groused under his breath. “No, I don’t think anything’s broken. He did mention it hurt a little to breathe.”

“Potential rib fracture,” she noted in that same quiet tone, brow knit together as she finally got to his legs. She paused, then added, “fracture along the tibia.”

The little hero gave another groan, and with a start, he cracked his eyes open.

“Wh…at…?” He breathed, searching until he landed on Sasuke’s face. “Oh… Mr. Sasuke, where are we?”

“You’re at a very good friend of mine’s place,” he answered tersely. “She’s gonna fix you up, and then you’re grounded from patrol for a week.”

“What?!” That sure woke him up. Sakura had to push on his chest to keep him from sitting all the way up, earning a wheeze.

“Make that two,” she added, casting the youth a frown. “You really roughed yourself up, y’know that? You fractured your leg and you’ve got a cracked rib.”

“B- but…” he helplessly stumbled over his words as he turned to his mentor for sympathy.

Sasuke gave none. He was no doubt wearing his “extremely disappointed” face, and that got the boy to wilt back against the couch.

“What happened out there, Boruto?” She finally asked, leaning back to wipe the sweat from her brow.

“W- well, Shikadai was walking home from the convenience store and this guy just-- he told him he was gonna rob him,” he explained, a little shaky. “So he texted me and I… I just wanted to help.”

“You should have alerted me,” Sasuke scolded.

“I didn’t think about it!” Boruto protested. “I’m sorry!”

“Well, what’s done is done.” Patting his good leg, she got up from the floor with a grunt - as well as a few popping noises from her limbs. “Do your parents know you snuck out to save your friend from a villain attack?”

Boruto’s wide-eyed gaze slowly went down to the upholstery, and that was enough of an answer for the both of them.

With a sigh, she shook her head. “Sasuke, do you wanna drop him off?”

“Yeah, I got him.” Nodding, the one-armed man scooped up the teenage boy, earning a tiny yelp of surprise, and his gaze swept over her with something soft. “Thank you for taking him so late.”

“Yeah, well, don’t make any habits of it,” she groused, cheeks going pink as she planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve got a shift to make in less than three hours.”

With a hum, he turned - and Boruto waved with a meek goodbye - and after the door shut with a soft click, she heaved a sigh and leaned against the wall.

“Damn it, so much for a good night’s rest,” she mumbled to herself as she pushed off and headed to the kitchen. “Might as well get started with my morning.”

----------

“Doctor Haruno, you’re needed at the front desk,” a nurse called out to her as they passed each other.

“Thank you, Morino,” she answered, scanning the clipboard in her hands before handing it off to the worker at the desk and making her way towards the elevators.

It was a rather busy shift, as she’d feared - but the power-nap she’d taken during her lunch break had proven enough to help her get through the rest of it. Now all she had to do was make it through her last few patients, and she was home until someone inevitably needed an emergency procedure.

The elevator let out a soft chime and the doors slid open, and she powerwalked through the hall to the front - and stopped short.

“What in the world are you doing on that leg?” She fussed, rushing over to the blond boy holding a bunch of flowers in his hand. She looked him up and down before poking his mentor in the chest. “Sasuke, you know he needs to be taking it easy. Does Naruto know about this?”

“I made a point to head over when they woke up and explained everything,” he answered, a slight amusement to the crinkling of his visible eye. “Hinata isn’t happy, but I promised her I wasn’t taking him out for training any time soon.”

“You’d better not. If he fully breaks that leg I will personally see to it that you keep a wide berth of the Uzumaki residence.” With a warning glare towards the adult, she turned to the child with a more calm demeanor. “What do you have?”

“Flowers, for, uh, last night.” The teenager’s cheeks were bright red with embarrassment, something that reminded her amusingly of Hinata’s own flush around her then-boyfriend, now husband at that age. “And- I’m sorry. I should’ve checked with Mr. Sasuke before running into danger.”

Taking the flowers, she looked them over with an appreciative hum and handed them to the receptionist at the counter, who hurried off to find a vase. “Well, thank you. They’re lovely. But you take it easy after this, okay?” She wagged a finger at them both. “I don’t want to have to see you walking out of here with crutches and a cast!”

“Yes, Dr. Haruno,” he said, chastised. Above him, Sasuke nodded his head.

“Good.” Then, with a smile, she folded her arms over her chest. “Make sure you say hello to your parents for me.”

“I will.”

“We’ll see you after your shift,” Sasuke added, scooping the kid up. Thankfully he didn’t hoist him over his shoulder, instead letting him sit on his arm.

“It better not be for new injuries.” She narrowed her eyes. "If you really wanna say sorry, you'd have an easier time if you bought me lunch!"

He chuckled, the only answer she’d get as he turned to walk out of the hospital.

#sasusaku month 2023 #mha au #bnha au #hero au #unresolved tension #mutual pining #tsundere sakura #minor injuries #sasusaku

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queenofdenest · 2 years

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Title: (how am i) to forgive myself for doing nothing Fandom: Hetalia Warnings: no archive warnings apply Relationship: est & liet & lat Characters: hws liet, hws rus, hws lat, mentions of hws prus & hws est Tags: Soviet Union era, Historical Hetalia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Missing Persons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma, Implied Disturbing Content AO3 Link: CLICK RIGHT HERE

Summary: Tolys knew that he couldn’t force Ivan to help locate Eduard, but he knew he had to try – for his brother

A/N: It has been 84 years - okay not really but this fic has taken me over a month to complete, which is not counting the time it took to research some of the things mentioned. Really, Liet just gave me hard time with his thoughts; I was continually rewriting parts of it and the re-rewriting those parts. I can't exactly blame the fictional character though, this is a very uncomfortable story - my beta put it as "spiraling on one side, denial on the other" and that is probably the best description possible. This fic is lighter than the previous two even though it takes place in the same universe, but I still say, please read the tags, read the tags on the previous fics, and recognize that just because it's not as dark, doesn't mean it doesn't have some disturbing implications laying under each word. If you can't handle that, please watch saf.iya get a 1950's make over.

Lastly, title is from, again, "Pocket Sized Feminism" by Blythe Baird. It's actually in the same stanza(i think it's called that?) as the title of the entire series and the previous fic. I feel like it fits with Liet's thoughts. This is for Febu.whump 2022, prompt 21, "help them" (obviously I changed it to "help him.") A huge thank you to my darling beta, TinyTeddy878, and a thanks to my family for listening to my rant(s) about how I would personally fist fight literally everyone in history I do not like, and a huge thanks to everyone who's been reading this series, either silently or not, it brightens my day that you guys like this little thing I got going on.

If life was a novel, it would be quarter past midnight when he entered Mister Russia's study. The other nation would be bathed in half shadows, leaning against the old leather desk chair, drinking from an unidentified glass of alcohol. The soft glow of moonlight drifting in through the half opened curtains would pay lip service to the aesthetics of the room, and most importantly, Mister Russia would have the information that Lithuania wanted.

But life wasn't a novel, and when he entered Mister Russia's study, it was a few minutes past the 15th hour, the other was slumped languidly down on the old green couch that sat between the two bookcases on the left wall, and most importantly, when Lithuania asked, "Did you see him?" the whole room fell into stony silence.

It wasn't that Lithuania had high expectations for the personification of Russia; he had lived with the other nation for far long enough, but he did expect the other to know what his government would do with one of their fellow nations.

The way that Mister Russia seemed to glare towards the ceiling at his question though spoke far louder than he would ever need to.

It was worrying.

It had been over a year since those officers had paraded into the manor, government signed pages shoved towards Mister Russia before they had made their way up the stairs and towards the bedroom that Lithuania had shared with the other two Baltics. Two of the police officers had grabbed Estonia from wherever he had been in the manor – most likely the library – and marched him out of the house right into a car, while the other two had raided the Estonian's few belongings and grabbed several random papers from there.

His heart had seized when he saw them holding the pages. While he had no definite clue as to what was written on them, he knew that Estonia had basically joined the ranks of those who were dissatisfied with the way things were and who were not quiet in that discontent. Once he had overheard the other talking with Prussia about a man who had written a pamphlet discussing the government and it's abuses – which Lithuania agreed with, he’d be hard pressed not to with what was being done with his people, but he still believed that everything was far too uneasy to be so outspoken about it. Mister Russia’s moods were just the tip of the iceberg, there was more under the surface that they had no idea about, he was sure of it, and the other's outspokenness with the way the world had turned out after the war had him worried.

They had even argued about it.

But, according to Prussia, spoken several days after Estonia had been grabbed, the pages were nothing of the sordid type, just jokes that they had passed back and forth to pass the time. Lithuania wasn't sure if he believed that. If they weren't anything too bad, then where was his brother? Why had the other nation been unable to contact them since month four of this whole debacle?

It was, again, worrying.

Oh, Lithuania tried to keep calm, especially when they had been receiving the short calls from the other for the first three months. Even when the other sounded horrid; his voice scratchy and watery, tired and strained, he’d kept his worry buried, but after the calls suddenly stopped, and instead was replaced by one letter, he started having trouble doing so.

He had asked Mister Russia once, a week after Estonia had been grabbed, if the other knew what the reasoning was and when was his brother going to be coming back. Mister Russia had said that Estonia was being useful, helping the government with it’s new filing system that was being implemented and was getting to work on the computers that were now becoming commonplace in many of the government buildings. He was told that the papers were just taken to help them determine if his handwriting was well enough to be useful.

“Nothing unpleasant was happening to Estonia, he’s fine,” Mister Russia had said and then preceded to ignore any other questions that Lithuania had.

He regretted ever allowing himself to be bought with such obvious lies – even knowing that it was in a desperate need to believe that Russia’s government was not so far gone as to ignore well defined rules did nothing to assuage the guilt that sat deep in his stomach.

None of that mattered though, all that did was that it had been a year since anyone had seen Estonia; Russia admitting that he had attempted to ask his bosses if he could see the other briefly several months after Estonia was grabbed but had gotten nowhere on account of them not wanting to disturb the work that Estonia was supposedly doing – and that was worrying.

No, it was more than worrying: it was sickening. It was sitting awake every night for hours on end listening to Latvia breath in and out slowly, all while knowing that someone was missing from the room. It was watching Prussia look out the front windows every day for several minutes on end with a look of regret on his face. It was meeting with Mister Russia every chance he got to see if the other had ran into Estonia at all, and it was knowing that the answer was always the same.

“No,” Russia finally said, his voice rough.“According to my bosses, he is currently in Leningrad working on their filing system.”

“Leningrad?” Lithuania stared, trying to figure out if Russia truly believed them or if he was just trying to lie to himself. “Filing system in Leningrad?”

Russia lifted his head, angry eyes meeting his. “Yes,” he replied, his face going blank as he continued, “By time they had told me though, the last train had already left and the time between us and there would have left me out far too late to meet him at the office.”

Ah, Lithuania could understand what was being said in between – that Russia had asked and been denied after having to wait an entire day to even be told anything, It also spoke of the trickiness of the situation; by saying that Estonia was so close, yet so far away meant that they couldn’t exactly assume that the other had been sent to a gulag or something that horrid. It was meant to be a warning as well as to placate any worries.

It did neither.

“I find it surprising that Leningrad has so much paperwork that Estonia can’t even call us for a minute or two,” Lithuania replied after a moment, “I know he’s a hard worker but to not even spare us some time is unlike him.”

Russia hummed, dropping his head back down against the couch. “It is odd, isn’t it?”

And that would be the last of their conversation, the simple dismissal in the other’s words would have Lithuania scurrying to go find something to do while he fretted to himself, but he couldn’t just -

It had been a year.

There was no amount of paperwork that Estonia would have to help file away for Russia’s government that would take a year to do. No amount of anything that was not being tortured that would keep the Estonian from calling, writing, or somehow getting word to them of where he was and what he was doing. The other was respectful like that, always letting Lithuania know of his status even when he didn’t need to. Like when Lithuania had lost custody of him and Latvia to Sweden and had sent a monthly letter until they met again under Russia’s rule.

With that thought in his head to steady him, Lithuania forced himself to stay calm as he spoke again. “Perhaps tomorrow we can -”

“I’m busy tomorrow.” The dismissal was sharper than before, cold eyes snapping to meet his own and for a second, he was willing to back down.

But -

On Friday, August 31 st of last year, a group of secret police had barged in and taken his little brother and Lithuania was anything but willing to continue to not know what was going on. “But perhaps it’s something that can be put off a bit?” He asked, his voice soft as he kept his eyes on the other. “I mean, Estonia’s been gone for quite a long time and surely he’s important.”

“My work is important,” Russia snarled, rising quickly from his position on the couch. Hands hung at his side, clenched in fists, eyes darkening as he continued, “Some people have countries to take care of.”

Something inside Lithuania snapped.

“And some people have friends to take care of,” he hissed, watching as the other recoiled slightly. His heart pounded inside his chest. Far from it, he wasn’t a weak nation, but he was also much smarter than this normally – arguing with Russia was reserved for idiots and those who counted as a superpower, not for nations already forced under his iron fist. He just couldn’t care anymore. “My brother was taken from your manor by your government and we have no idea if he’s okay!”

“I know that,” Russia started, scowl on his face. He seemed to loom as he clenched his hands over and over again. “I am looking for him – for you! – but I can’t just skip important nation meetings, you know this: they will think something is wrong.”

“Something is wrong!” His voice rose quickly, bordering a yell. The urge to continue to yell pulsed through him but Lithuania forced himself down before he spoke again, “Something is very wrong, Mister Russia.”

Why did the other not see that?

Something had been wrong for the last year - longer in Lithuania’s opinion, but it had steadily grown worse as time went on. Boundaries had been pushed beyond all belief, governments had overstepped far worse than he had ever seen. His people – all of their people – were being taken from their homes, families were being ripped apart; there were extermination squads and massacres, and assaults and the mass graves filling up quicker than he thought they could. And that was just the information they could get personally; he was sure more was happening that just didn’t make it’s way across Russia’s desk long enough for them to spot it while cleaning.

This was just the latest in all the horror that had been going on.

“Nothing is wrong,” Russia said blandly. His eyes darkened as he moved closer, right into Lithuania’s space, soft air from the other’s breath pressing against his skin. “Repeat it, Tolys.”

He shook his head, “Help me, help him.” His words were soft, eyes making contact with the other, “Please help him.”

Russia stared, his movements paused. The whole room felt oppressive and for a second, Lithuania was sure he was going to be punished. Instead, Russia huffed a sigh, speaking as softly as he could, “Nothing is wrong, Tolys, he doesn’t need help,” before pushing past him and out the door, slamming it behind him as he went.

Lithuania closed his eyes, breath held in his chest as he waited. Steps stomped down the hall followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Still, it wasn’t safe – he’d be back. Nonetheless, he breathed out, collapsing on the couch. Never before had Lithuania ever felt like so, a hopelessness so heavy sitting on his heart.

A knock at the door sounded and he jumped slightly in place. His thoughts a disjointed mess as he watched the door creak open gently.

“Lithuania?” Latvia peeked his head through the door, worry on his face.

“Raivis,” he greeted, straightening his back and forcing a small smile on his face, “What do you need?”

“Are you… alright?” Hesitance separated some of his words and Lithuania could see a soft tremble to the other’s body.

Closing his eyes once more, he nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry – I was just talking with Mister Russia about Estonia, they say he should be finishing up doing whatever it is they have him doing soon.”

It was a lie and they both knew it, but it was a lie they both needed to believe until they got their brother back. At least, from the little nod that Latvia gave, Lithuania assumed so. Still it was all either of them had without falling into the despair of wondering what was going on and where was the other of their trio.

And if that was all they had, then that was all they had until they could help Estonia themselves.

Additional Notes: So if you liked, please leave some form of nice interaction. Sorry that last time I said it'd be happier and instead you just get more sad shit. Especially since I know the next two fics won't be happier. Anyway, read on for some notes.

The historical notes:

*Few minutes past 15th hour = few minutes past 3pm, for my non-military clock using people. *There was so much going on in the Soviet Union regarding crimes against humanity that I doubt that the annexed countries living with Ivan even knew half of what was going on until afterwards, if only because miscommunication, triangulation, and lying was the name of the game the Soviet government was using when dealing with things like this. *I can't get an exact date on when computers were being installed in government buildings during the Soviet era, which I think is just rude, but based on when this fic takes place and when personal computers became commonplace, I just guessed - I mean in the end does it matter when in truth it's just a lie being used? I don't know, you decide. *Leningrad = Saint Petersburg. Lenin was a two faced bitch but whatever, name your cities after him i guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ *It's a 6 hour drive between Moscow and Saint Petersburg, taking in account that they would've told him at like late afternoon/end of work day, it would've been too late to go there, visit quickly and then go back home. Again, it's all a lie so don't look to closely. *I just always head canoned this: I like the idea of Est just writing Liet and Pol letters of "hey we're doing good promise". *August 30th 1963, the Moscow-Washington hotline (the red phone commonly depicted in media, which it is not, we were lied to okay!!!) was set up; this fic assumes that Ivan spent Saturday there working on that as well, since in the U.S, test messages were sent hourly in the beginning to make sure that it was working. I just assume the Soviets were doing the same. *The Soviet government continually pushed the boundaries of what a government should do (at least in my opinion) and you can look, especially in the Bal.tic states, that people were taken from their homes for being anti-communist/anti-soviet, or even for being assumed so; there were extermination squads (known as istrebitels, they were an organization from 1941 to 1954 that terrorized anti-soviet partisans and used scorched earth tactics while also brutalizing civilians and killing people/destroying areas/being all around horrifying to read on) and secret police basically acted as one; massacres were common place as well, literally type in "massacres during soviet union" and you get an incomplete wikipedia page with sources, and that's of course ignoring the fact that there excess mortality during Stalin's reign; physical assaults and sexual assaults were common, especially those who were victims of the KGB; mass graves were common as you needed a place to bury those who were either massacred in one of the many massacres/government sanctioned mass killings. Literally the Soviet Union sucked. *We talked about this last notes I wrote, there is enough evidence in the manga/web comic that Russia has been violent/volatile towards the Baltics; and with Lithuania, we have (tentative) evidence there was physical violence. Unless otherwise stated, I'm keeping it. *Personal headcanon that using human names are generally reserved for family/close friends and Russia's use of it is a power play in an effort to get Liet to back down. *And we know that it'll be half a year before they do get to see him, whoo, sorry babies I love you.

#hws lithuania #hws russia #hws latvia #historical hetalia #ii. character;; aph lithuania #ii.character;; aph latvia #ii.character;; aph russia #iii. story;; mine #iii. story;; series #iii. story;; complete #i. au. historical hetalia #i. era;; soviet union #iii. story;; one shot #iv. series;; in the mouth of trauma #iii. genre;; angst

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rikilouvre · 2 years

Text

trip

a/n : AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA i can't stop thinking about this when i was trying to fall asleep yesterday so i'm gonna write it before i forget to

characters : those 3 goofballs above ( ´◡‿ゝ◡`)

(though, bangchan is mostly the one talking so yeah)

genre : pure fluff & crack, delusional prompt but everything was funny in my mind so idc LMAO

visualization pics :

you walk out of a convenience store located on a street corner, where you saw hyunjin, lino, and bangchan passing by with chan holding a selfie cam. your stay heart screamed airily due to nervousness and shakiness, "hey!" you decided to cross the street where they are but your legs failed you and you... you tripped infront of the 3 members.

...

hyunjin covered his mouth out of reflex and lino got startled, following with an 'oooooh' while bangchan was the only one to actually help you get up. "miss, are you okay?" he asked. you didn't even care you fell infront of them, you looked happily at bangchan, "i'm fine!" squealing and jumping, you didn't know what to do next. "can we, can- can w- picture," you panted out of nowhere. gosh, handle yourself, PLEASE. "oh..." bangchan paused and looked at hyunjin and lino before continuing, "i'm sorry, but we're not allowed to take pictures with fans in public." he apologetically explained. "oh, really?" your hopeful tone made him slump down even more 'cause of it "yes, i'm really sorry miss."

your hopes did NOT go and will not disappear any second now. "but can you guys give me a pictograph? paragraph? i mean an autograph?" you laughed at yourself. hyunjin bursted out laughing so loudly and lino was chuckling at your flustered sight. "you're funny." hyunjin wrapped his arms around his belly and lino just looked at you adorably, honored that the group was loved by wonderful people like you. while you on the other end, you were fighting for your life for an autograph, literally. you couldn't breathe, you were all red, you couldn't even speak right. "an autograph? sure! you have your paper and pen?" bangchan excitedly asked.

for the first time in your encounter with them, you frowned abruptly. "no, i have none." you looked up at them with doe eyes, testing them if they would do anything else for you. you were clearly wasting their time 'cause of your fangirl crisis, but they're idols – it's part of their job ;). "okay this is gonna be weird but, can i atleast just hug you guys? for memories." you hesitantly smiled at them. the 3 members stared at you for a second then gave you the heartwarming smiles they give stays during their lives, for their selcas, just the usual stray kids behavior on and off cam. "aww, sure!" lino answered. "ofcourse! it's not like we're both gonna lose something if we hugged. that's the case only if we don't get seen by sasaengs." bangchan laughed at hyunjin's statement. you squealed quietly and hugged lino first, the biggest hug you think you'll ever give anyone. you hummed under their hold, "aww, you guys are really sweet! i love you guys." they took turns in hugging you, "anything for stays." bangchan rested his head on yours shortly before pulling away. "you go, funny girl. always be this wonderful and happy for us, alright?" hyunjin told you, squeezing you tightly – which let out a breath and a laughter from you.

"wow, i have a LOT to tell my friends for today." you looked at them once more. "and we three have a LOT to tell the other members as well. oh! wait," bangchan paused and whispered something to lino as lino answers him with a whisper as well, he whispered the same thing to hyunjin who responded with a nod. bangchan bent his knees to be the same height as you, "you can go to the chicken restaurant up this street if you only live nearby and bring your pen and paper with you, everyone else is there. but," there was a but. "but you can't tell anyone else to come with you, okay? promise?" he lifts his pinkie finger for you to see. "i promise." you bind your pinkie finger with his. "thank you so much for this, guys. i'll see you later!" you waved at them goodbye, "goodbye, little stay!" before rushing to your home to bring with you the first pen and paper you find inside your house.

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Idk If you have rules cuz I can't seem to find it but Osamu(Haikyuu) as mafia(if ur not comfy then you can ignore this part) who Kidnapped u and is obsessed(the "I'd rip out my heart for you" type of obsessed) who would literally do anything for you😋and puts you always first before anyone else🗿a soft yandere but will k!ll anyone who gets near you type so Osamu being possesive of you🤩

Nope! No rules, there aren’t enough people who care for them and I don’t want to stress about it anymore. If I don’t like a request, I just delete it. I prefer Yakuza over Mafia, hope you don’t mind! Thanks for requesting, enjoy ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Even the careful Osamu couldn’t keep you from stirring in your sleep as he opened the door to the apartment. This was probably the first night ever you had been able to fall asleep in peace, and yet, you sat up while he tiptoed through the hallway towards the only room you two shared. Rubbing your eyes, you heard a soft gasp, making you look up.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya...” Osamu grumbled before stepping into the room fully, walking over to the mini-fridge he kept stocked with basic food like rice balls and ice cream in the freezer compartment. The light briefly illuminated his body, showing you a sight you didn’t want to see while he restocked some food in the fridge, either unaware or indifferent about his looks.

You looked away, biting your lips. It had all started out innocently enough, your father paying a Yakuza to keep you safe while there were some even worse guys after him. Even if the arrangement had been strange, especially after he - Osamu - moved into a small, one-room apartment with you, basically just sticking around and rarely leaving, by now, it was more than just a nightmare.

How long had it been since you last left the apartment? Almost a month now? Osamu took you for a walk once or twice, returning after mere ten minutes and stating it was too dangerous. However, whenever he did leave, he returned bloody and dirty. Frankly, you were too afraid to ask what happened, but the secrecy between you two wasn’t helping in soothing your mind.

In the beginning, you still had been hopeful that the matter would resolve quickly and you could go back to your normal life. But apparently, it just kept dragging on, Osamu only ever stating that it wasn’t over yet. Even your dad stopped responding to your messages, asking if he was okay, by now, and you were nothing but worried about him. Now, you just wondered how many more days you’d have to spend with this guy that you still considered to be a total stranger.

Gripping your blanket tightly, it took you a lot of courage to speak up, but the situation was awkward as it is, there was nothing you could do to mess it up more. “Are you okay?” you asked carefully, hoping you weren’t overstepping your boundaries. His hand stopped, and he glanced back over his shoulder at you, simply staring for a moment before turning back to finish his task.

“Yeah, just a rough night.”

“Then... are you hurt?” you continued, feeling relieved after hearing his casual answer.

“Why? Ya worried about me?” Only being able to see his side profile over his shoulder, you noticed him smile - presumably for the first time ever that you knew him. “I-I mean!” you stuttered, twiddling your thumbs as you felt flustered. It wasn’t actually that bad talking to him; he actually had a hint of a joke in his voice as he spoke with you, even if you only ever perceived him as a mean-looking fellow with a bad career choice.

“It would be bad if something happened and you were injured...”

A soft chuckle fell off his lips, and you presumed he must have been tired if you actually managed to make him laugh. Either that, or you had to admit he wasn’t half as bad as you thought him to be. Closing the fridge - and with it, the only light in the room - you heard him groan as he stood up. However, even if he tried, his footsteps were audible because of his muscular build, especially as they drew closer.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he assured you, plopping down on your bed. “I got it all under control, promise.”

“If you say so...” Pulling in your legs, you made some space, prompting him to lean back, and the smell of blood and dirt made its way to your nose. “So... not your blood?”

There was a certain risk in asking this, but you were awake now and, for the first time, had a conversation with him. “Nope,” he casually admitted, and it brought back some of the fears you first had when he was introduced to you. Mainly that he had already become numb towards violence. “Hey...” Osamu tore you out of your thoughts quickly as he spoke up first, noticing your silence.

“Has anyone been bothering you lately? Talked to some bad eggs on your phone?”

Blinking a few times, you delayed your response, nervously glancing at your phone. It was true that after you had to go undercover, you had quite a few arguments with your boyfriend and friends. They wouldn’t understand why you’d ghost them and avoid their questions about your whereabouts. “Not really?” you mumbled, unsure if he’d be interested in that kind of complaint from you. After all, they were more or less just relationship problems, and you two weren’t close in any way.

“I see,” he curtly replied, silence falling between you two until he sighed, sitting up straight again. “After you fell asleep, there was a guy outside to room. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the knocks, but I guess you were tired for a change.”

Immediately, you tensed up. Worried about the sudden revelation about a visitor, you didn’t even mind his last comment, revealing he had been aware and watching you as you had struggled to sleep the last few weeks in his presence. “W-Who was it?” you questioned, scared of hearing that you had been found out and you’d have to leave soon and hide somewhere else.

“Don’t know him. He got very agitated when he saw me and tried to get into the apartment, but I couldn’t let him, of course.”

Ears peeking up, you almost jumped out of bed as you leaned forward, intrigued by what Osamu was telling you. “And? What happened?” you pushed for a continuation.

“Nothing special. Told him he can’t get in and to leave. But he was one persistent bastard, yelling weird stuff like he was your boyfriend and he loved you and should be able to see you. These things.”

“W-Wait! What do you mean it was my boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me! I could have confirmed it! I’d really have liked... to see him...”

Shoulders slumping in disappointment, any fear of being found out was now turned into sadness, knowing you had been asleep while a vital piece of your life and of ‘normality’ had been so close. “Ridiculous, as if I could just let anyone come and claim he knew ya,” Osamu grumbled, and the heaviness of your situation returned back to you. Of course, he couldn’t allow the risk of someone hurting you after everything you two went through already.

“He did ask me to give you something, though,” Osamu seemed to suddenly remember, contemplatively. “What is it?” you inquired, hoping that maybe it really had been your boyfriend after all, and perhaps he brought you something to help you through these challenging times.

But instead, you were met with two fingers around your chin, pulling you in closely until you felt Osamu’s breath against your mouth. Much too late did you understand the intention, his lips kissing yours gently yet longingly. You felt an immediate gut-wrenching response, tearing away repulsed by the actions of your guard. Pushing him away, you rubbed off the feeling of his lips on yours with the back of your hand, spluttering, “What are you doing?!” while you tried not to feel sicker as the smell of iron reached your nose.

“Ya know,” Osamu continued, his tone indifferent, but you could hear the smile on his lips. “I’m just repaying my debt to him. There’s no ‘being too safe’, but I guess you really did matter a lot to him. He kept crying and telling me he loved ya.”

“Why didn’t you just wake me up to confirm it then?” By now, you felt the pain of your boyfriend, worried sick about you, and then faced with someone like Osamu as his only clue. “Are you kidding?” was all that the Yakuza responded. Getting up, he stretched audibly.

“I beat him to a pulp and took care of him and his phone with the tracking app.”

What?

“H-How could you...?!” was the only thing you could stutter.

“Yeah, he won’t bother you anymore. I know you two have been fighting lately.”

“Excuse me?”

Walking over to the entrance to the bath, Osamu flipped on the light before looking back at you. Dreadful splatters of blood were all over his face, even more than you had seen before. His knuckles seemed to be straight out of a horror movie, and the black clothes he wore had dark, firm spots on them.

And yet, he smiled at you affectionately.

“As if I’d let anyone put a frown on ya cute face, Babe. Doesn’t matter who, I’ll protect you from anyone trying to get close and hurt you. I told ya, didn’t I? I’ve got everything under control.”

With that, he entered the bath, and you heard the familiar sound of the shower. Confused but mostly worried, you threw back the blanket and hopped out of bed with unsteady feet, racing to the front door. Sliding off the door chain, you pushed the handle, expecting it to open, but it wouldn’t budge.

The faint sound of a chuckle echoed from the bathroom, the walls thin as paper, much to your dismay. You didn’t want to believe it; even more, you wanted to see it. See that what Osamu described didn’t happen to someone so dear to you. You wanted to know that everything was okay. Know that the man you shared this locked apartment with wasn’t some kind of maniac going around killing people on ‘your behalf’.

But when you looked at your phone, you saw a message from your boyfriend, saying he tracked you down and would be coming to get you now. It had been read before you, even replied to, but you didn’t remember ever seeing it or replying to it at all. Especially not when the last message eerily read:

<< Waiting for you (:

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hartigays · 3 years

Note

rafebarry prompt: not canon compliant but rafe and barry are trying to get away from ward but barry gets hurt so rafe begs sarah + pouges (not on good terms w each other) to help them escape bc he loves barry<33

just a little something i thought about! totally up to you on how this all goes down if you decide to write it, anything you write is amazing !!

this was a stupid fucking idea. stupid, stupid, stupid. rafe knew from the beginning, he should’ve never agreed to this.

there aren’t many things that he and barry don’t agree on, surprisingly. even if they start off disagreeing about something, they generally always end up on the same page. but this plan had been something they’d gone back and forth on, never settling on a definitive decision.

in the end, barry had simply manhandled rafe over to the place he’d formerly called home - before ward booted his ass out - and waltzed them through the front door like they owned the place.

all to steal from ward, to get more money for coke and groceries (re: booze and hot pockets) and whatever other fleeting indulgences they could think of.

rafe had disagreed with this plan throughout its development and execution, not wanting to cross the one and only person in the entire world who scares him: ward cameron. and he’d been right to, because now barry is gasping for air, holding his side while blood spills from between his fingers.

they’re racing through the woods, trying to get as far away from ward’s long-range hunting rifle as they can.

rafe doesn’t know if ward knew he was barry’s companion in this little venture. he’d insisted they wear bandanas over their faces, but rafe is pretty sure ward would know his son in a heartbeat regardless.

he doesn’t even want to think about it. about the fact that ward shot barry, or that he probably would’ve shot rafe too if rafe hadn’t had the presence of mind to shove both barry and himself out of the nearest window, plunging into the bushes below before ward could get off another shot.

another shot on the person he more than likely knew to be his son.

ward had continued taking shots as rafe dragged barry across the yard and into the treeline, disappearing from view.

now, they’re back at the main road, barry collapsing against a tree as he clenches his hand around the wound in his side.

“let me see,” rafe demands, kneeling down and peeling up barry’s shirt despite barry shaking his head.

“ain’t got time, country club,” barry wheezes, trying to push rafe back so he’ll stand up and keep moving.

rafe doesn’t budge, just swipes at the blood with his shirt sleeve to get a better look at the wound. the bullet just grazed him, but it’s enough to warrant stitches at the very least.

“you’re not going to make it to the emergency room like this,” rafe comments absentmindedly, pulling out his phone a firing off a text to topper letting him know he’s going to need to borrow his car.

barry manages to push rafe back an inch this time, shaking his head furiously. “ain’t no way i’m goin’ to no damn hospital. i ain’t got insurance and your daddy done cut you off months ago. how you gonna pay for my little siesta in the ER with them empty pockets?”

and okay, he has a point. rafe will admit that. not to mention, ward has people all over the OBX, and if he sends out word about looking for his son, they’ll surely be caught if they’re trapped in the emergency room.

there’s only one other place rafe can think to go. one place where ward won’t know to look, one place where barry can get some medical help without having to shell out a fortune.

rafe may have to grovel a bit (or a lot), but he’ll do it. damn it, he’ll fucking do it because barry is going to bleed out if he doesn’t and that would really fucking suck because rafe was just starting to sort of like him.

he must’ve said that last part out loud, because barry manages to glare at him and say, “quit that shit. we been dating for a year, dickhead.”

then barry sort of slumps to the side, and rafe has to all but carry him to topper’s place.

rafe has just gotten the keys topper keeps in the cupholder into the ignition when he looks at his phone, seeing a text from top.

can’t let u borrow the car tonight, have a thing in the morning. srry bud.

rafe glances over at barry, who’s blacked out in the passenger’s seat, fresh blood still seeping out of his shirt.

“sorry about this, top,” rafe says to himself, turning the key and hearing the engine roar to life. “i’ll get you back later.”

he peels out of the driveway, speeding down the familiar streets until they become more and more unfamiliar, figure eight bleeding into the cut.

he zooms past more and more unfamiliar houses, searching for the only one he knows, starting to feel hopeless, starting to really worry that barry might actually die in the passenger’s seat of his car.

or topper’s car, rather. it’d be super annoying to have to apologize for that on top of having to apologize for stealing it in the first place, to be honest.

then suddenly, rafe is idling outside a house that is both familiar and unfamiliar. the few times he’s been here before, he’d been fucked up beyond belief and fueled by violent anger. it seems almost foreign to him now, while he’s sober as a judge (only due to his current circumstances, mind you) and fueled by nothing but pure adrenaline.

rafe practically drags barry to the house. there are all sorts of lights on, both inside and out, and rafe can hear the sounds of music and laughter drifting out from an open window nearby.

he only hesitates for a moment before circling around the house and banging on the door.

john b answers the door with a smile, a small wad of cash in his hand, clearly expecting some sort of food delivery. his smile fades instantly when he realizes it’s not his pizza or what the fuck ever, and is in fact rafe cameron and a half-dead barry.

“no,” is all john b says before trying to shut the door. rafe kicks his leg out, foot jamming between the door and the frame, preventing john b from closing it.

“fuck off, rafe,” john b grunts as he tries to shut the door. rafe can hear concerned voices from inside the house. “you’re not dragging us into whatever shit this is! literally fuck. off.”

“sarah!” rafe shouts, ignoring john b’s protests. “sarah!”

footsteps, and then sarah is pushing john b out of the way gently, looking at rafe in confusion, then at barry in horror.

“rafe? oh my god, what happened?”

sarah ushers them into the house, and rafe is literally dragging barry at this point. still, no one helps him get barry onto the couch. he manages regardless, but he’s panting when it’s all said and done, sliding down onto the floor with a grunt.

“i need you to help him,” rafe says, and he’s looking at pope, who’s seated in the corner beside jj, a guitar that he’s no longer strumming still sitting in his lap.

but john b is the one to answer, shaking his head. “no. besides, we can’t even help him. we don’t know how to do shit like that.”

“he does,” rafe says, still looking at pope, who’s now looking at barry thoughtfully.

“what?” kie laughs, looking bewildered. “pope may be smart, yeah, but he doesn’t have a medical degree. this guy needs a doctor.”

“i know how,” pope sighs, and rafe suppresses a smug smile. “i volunteered at the hospital last summer, remember?”

“and you knew this how?” john b asks rafe, accusatory.

“he was on my rounds once,” pope says calmly, leveling rafe with an unreadable look. “alcohol poisoning and a drug overdose all in one night.”

rafe fights the urge to look away, choosing instead to shrug nonchalantly.

“just another night in the cut, right?” rafe asks, arching one brow. “look, we can dredge up my poor life choices later, if it’ll make you all feel better and get your fucking panties out of a wad. but right now he needs help, so are you going to give him that or are you going to let him bleed out on your ugly ass couch?”

“i say let him bleed out,” john b snaps, clearly irked by rafe’s demands and insults.

rafe wants to knock the guy’s teeth down his throat, but he just breathes steadily through his nose. just like barry has been teaching him. “we can’t go to a hospital. no insurance, and ward’s hunting us down as we speak. so do i want to fucking be here? no. but i have to, so name your fucking price and we’ll pay it.”

“besides,” rafe continues, turning his eyes to sarah, challenging her, “you’re not just going to let someone die, are you?”

sarah narrows her eyes, hands perched on her hips. “no, that’s more your style, isn’t it?” then, she looks at pope. “come on, help him. he isn’t dying on john b’s couch. that’s way too creepy for me to deal with right now.”

pope nods and disappears from the room as sarah and john b bicker quietly. kie and jj glare daggers at rafe, while also eyeing barry, lying on the couch looking far more dead than alive.

when pope reappears, he has a first aid kit in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. he shoos rafe out of the way. rafe just scoots a little further to the left to give pope room, but stays close to barry.

“rafe, we need to talk,” sarah says after a moment. “outside?”

rafe shakes his head. “not until i know he’s okay.”

the room falls silent, and rafe looks around, glaring. “what, it’s illegal to care about people now? fuck off.”

“so do you want us to like… give you a room, or something? maybe some champagne and rose petals? we could get some ambient beats going, really set the mood, you know- ”

kie throws a pillow at jj, effectively shutting him up. “gross, jj. don’t put that image into my head.”

“look, whatever,” sarah interrupts, rolling her eyes. “but once he’s patched up, we’re having a conversation.”

rafe puts his hands up in mock surrender. “your house, your rules.”

he’s only trying to irritate john b, and it works. rafe smiles to himself when john b starts grumbling about it being his house actually, storming off to his room, undoubtedly to pout. sarah follows, and kie and jj trail after them a moment later. jj is the only one to look back, throwing a concerned look in pope’s direction before inevitably disappearing into john b’s bedroom.

rafe looks back at barry, all smugness disappearing from his expression when he sees just how bad the wound really is now that pope has cleaned it up a bit.

he really doesn’t care if he has to talk to sarah later - all he knows is that if barry dies, he’s sure as hell not going to be outside listening to sarah bitch at him when it happens.

rafe takes one of barry’s hands, ignoring the way pope’s eyes flicker down to the movement before returning to his work, remaining silent.

“you love him,” pope says suddenly, still not looking at rafe. he’s began sewing up the wound, his hands surprisingly steady.

“what’s it to you?” rafe asks defensively, but he curls his fingers tighter around barry’s, a little possessively.

pope just shrugs, like he doesn’t really care one way or another. “just an observation.”

he ties off the thread and cleans up the remaining dried blood from the wound with a rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton ball before applying a bandage and tugging barry’s shirt back down. it’s a lost cause, the shirt, but rafe appreciates the gesture anyway.

“it’s good to know you care about someone other than yourself,” pope says, finally turning towards rafe and giving him a hard look. “maybe there’s hope for assholes like you after all.”

rafe opens his mouth to say something bitchy back, but pope just claps him on the shoulder, stands and cracks his back, then leaves the room.

it’s just rafe and a passed out barry now. at least this way he can openly worry about his boyfriend, gnawing on his lip as he thinks about what it’ll be like if barry doesn’t make it.

rafe has been living with barry for some time now, ever since ward kicked him out. it’d started with sarah - she’d ran away and no one had known where. rafe ended up finding out through topper, but never seemed to get around to telling ward. don’t ask him why - he really doesn’t fucking know.

after sarah’s disappearance, ward’s temper reached its peak and rafe was kicked out mere weeks after his sister had gone missing. he stayed with topper for a while at first, often making trips to the cut to harass the dirty pogues who’d whisked his sister away from their supposedly happy family and her happy relationship with one of rafe’s closest friends.

when topper’s mother got sick of rafe loitering around her house, the only place left to go was barry’s. it’d helped that they’d already been screwing around for a while, initially so rafe could get discounts on coke, then turning into a full blown something over time.

their relationship has a definition now. barry had manhandled rafe into bed one evening and declared them to be officially official. meaning a relationship, meaning a bunch of figuring shit out as he goes because rafe sure as shit has never done any of this before.

he’s also pretty sure other relationships don’t involve hard drugs and robberies and shootings, so he thinks he’s got a few more obstacles to overcome than most when traveling the rocky road of a first relationship.

“rafe?” sarah calls, suddenly re-entering the room. “think we can talk now?”

rafe looks at her for a long moment. she looks different - happier, maybe? rafe wonders if he looks the same. maybe not right at this moment, with barry’s limp, clammy hand resting between his own, waiting on bated breath for barry’s eyes to blink open.

the need to hear barry’s slow drawl of coUnTrY cLUuUb is almost too much to bear, so rafe cuts his line of thought off, nods at sarah in answer to her question, and follows her outside.

they don’t talk for a long while, just staring out across the yard in silence. it’s not uncomfortable, per se, but rafe still wishes she’d say what she wants to say so he can get back inside. back to barry.

“this is a one time deal, you know,” sarah finally tells him.

when he looks at her from the corner of his eye, she’s staring directly at him, her expression serious. “i know,” is all he can come up with.

“i expect a thank you, just so you know.”

“i’m not thanking you,” rafe says immediately.

sarah actually smiles, just a little bit, then parrots back, “i know.”

“what did you want to talk to me about?” rafe asks eventually, pulling a cigarette from the pack he keeps in his pocket and lighting up.

sarah doesn’t answer for a moment, then shrugs, looking down at her hands. “i hate you, for the way you’ve treated me. and my friends. but sometimes i miss you. i miss my brother. what happened to you?”

it’s almost like she’s just thinking aloud, but rafe knows it’s a genuine question. one he doesn’t have an answer to. because he doesn’t really know where he went wrong - just that he could never seem to get anything right. not as a kid, not as a teenager, and not now as an adult.

“i don’t know,” rafe answers honestly, for the first time in a long time. he doesn’t know what else to say, so he tells her, simply, “but thank you for helping anyway.”

yeah, yeah. he wasn’t going to thank her, blah blah blah. whatever, shit happens.

the back door swings open, and rafe and sarah turn to watch barry stumble out of the house, still clutching his side but finally looking like a living, breathing person instead of a corpse.

“ain’t i tell you them things gonna rot your lungs?” is the first thing he says, plucking the cigarette from rafe’s lips and taking a drag.

rafe rolls his eyes, but lets barry rope him into a hug, careful not to bump into his wound.

“ugh, gross,” sarah huffs, making fake gagging noises before going back inside. rafe doesn’t miss the small smile that’s playing on her lips, though, and he’s suddenly filled with warmth.

it’s disgusting, and he’s surprised that he’s missed it. and that maybe, deep down, he’s missed his sister, too.

she said this is a one time deal, but maybe there’s a possibility of reconciliation. it’s a thought to revisit at a later date, rafe decides, wanting to focus on this moment right here, where barry is blessedly alive and safe.

so rafe just leans down a bit and buries his face in barry’s neck, taking a deep breath, feeling barry inhale and exhale around his cigarette as they stand in each other’s arms, companionable silence falling around them.

“you done saved my life, country club,” barry says, the first to break the silence.

rafe smiles against barry’s neck at the nickname, pressing a kiss to barry’s pulse point before pulling back a bit to look at him.

“yeah, you’re the only one who knows how to empty the septic tank,” rafe replies, deadpan.

barry throws his head back and laughs, one hand coming up to cradle the back of rafe’s head, pulling him down gently so he can press a kiss to his forehead.

“damn good thing you saved my ass, then.”

“sure is.”

when barry kisses rafe, he tastes like tobacco and blood, sour and metallic on his tongue. rafe should think it’s gross, but he just kisses barry harder, trying to scrub all the thoughts he’d had about barry dying from his memory.

it helps to have barry here, real and solid in rafe’s arms, lips soft against his own.

“can we get outta this shithole and back to our shithole?” barry asks when they separate, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “‘m pretty sure them shits would object to us christening their couch.”

rafe, for a moment, is tempted to try just to see what kind of reaction he’d get. but instead of following the urge, he lets barry guide him back to topper’s stolen car.

“who’s ride is this?” barry asks when they’re both buckled in, backing away from the routledge property.

“topper’s,” rafe explains, smirking to himself. “i, uh. borrowed it for the time being.”

“for the time being?” barry questions, and when rafe looks at him, barry is looking right back, brows raised and amusement written all over his face.

“mhm,” rafe confirms, matter-of-factly.

barry just glances around the car, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “sweet ride. think ol’ topper’d object to a little christening, too?”

rafe starts the car, letting his own smirk grow. “as a matter of fact, i think he would.”

barry blinks at him, then stares at his nails casually.

“so where we gonna park her?”

rafe just smiles, peeling away from the routledge house, cruising into the night.

“i know just the place.”

#rafebarry #outer banks #okay so the place they park and (redacted) is literally the figure 8 country club #also this leans more towards fanon!rafe and somehow both follows canon and doesnt #it’s all over the place tbh #lastly hope u all can spot the jjpope crumbs 🥰#my fics #ask #anon

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

A Good Tickling (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

This one is a direct sequel to “Wardrobe Malfunction,” as requested above. It’s also officially the longest fic I’ve ever written for any fandom, clocking in at 3,000+ words, so buckle up! I really had fun delving into this one and exploring Kirishima and Bakugou’s friendship on a bit of a deeper level while still turning it into a tickle fic by the end. I sincerely hope you enjoy! <3

6: “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”

8: “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

20: “Stop resisting!”

19: “I see that smile. Come on, laugh!”

25: “Let’s see how long you can go without laughing.”

You’ll notice for some of the numbered prompts I didn’t use the exact quote, but a variation thereof. This was to help prevent repetitiveness as well as maintain believable story flow. They’re still in the fic, just perhaps not word for word.

Warning: Slight angst.

Kirishima was quiet. Like, really quiet. Too quiet. And Bakugou was extremely aware of it.

The silence had come on gradually, over the course of a couple of weeks. At first it was just small pockets of time during which the redhead seemed to shrink in on himself for no discernable reason, but he’d soon bounce back when someone started talking to him, Bakugou included. But as time went on, those pockets of silence became entire hours, which became days by the time two weeks had gone by.

Then Bakugou noticed something even more disconcerting.

Kiri would only be silent around him.

He’d walk into a situation in which Kiri was his normal self, having a good time with their other mutual friends and classmates, and boom. Instant shutdown. It was impossible to ignore after the second time it happened that Kirishima was going silent because of his presence, and Bakugou was actually getting worried about it.

It all came to a head one night when Bakugou went downstairs for dinner, where Kiri and some others were already starting to eat. As soon as he entered the room Kiri’s face went dark and he stopped speaking, which was already bothersome to the atomic teen before the redhead then stood up, put his practically uneaten dinner in the fridge, and left the room.

That was the moment Bakugou realized he’d done something wrong. Somewhere along the line and without knowing it, he’d upset Kirishima so much that his closest friend couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him anymore.

No, he thought. I have to fix this. So he turned right back around and followed Kirishima to his dorm room.

“It’s open,” Kiri called when Bakugou knocked, and as soon as the door was open enough for him to see who was visiting, he turned his back and didn’t say anything.

Bakugou felt awkward closing the door behind him as he entered the silent space, but he’d resolved to find out what was going on. He hated this rift that existed between them now. He wanted to close it up. To be close with Kiri again. He missed him, dang it.

For a long while words failed him. How was he supposed to approach this when he didn’t know what was wrong? Finally Bakugou cleared his throat. “Hey. Are you mad at me?”

Kiri’s shoulders slumped. “No.”

Well, that was a relief, at least. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Bull. Bakugou fought back an angry retort and said in his calmest voice, “You can run from me all you like, Kirishima, but at the end of the day you can’t hide that you’re upset with me about something. It’s written all over your face every time you look at me. So…” He sighed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kiri still wouldn’t look at him. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to you,” Bakugou shot back, “and I don’t like that you aren’t yourself around me lately. Where’s that loud, obnoxious, spiky-haired idiot I usually hang out with?”

“I don’t know.”

Bakugou’s irritation was rising, but he used every ounce of willpower he had to fight it. He tried to think rationally. When had this all started? Not long after that day in the locker room when he called Kiri’s costume stupid. Was that it? “Is this because of what I said about your hero costume?”

Kirishima tensed, but shook his head. “No.” His voice was quieter now. “It’s not that.”

“Well, you started being really weird around me after that, so what gives?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The redhead got up from his seat at his desk and finally turned to look at him, and the look in his eyes – the upset, lost, desperate look – was like a sucker punch to the stomach to Bakugou. Guilt washed over him, and he still didn’t even know why.

“Yes, it does.” Bakugou felt something inside him soften. He dared to take a step closer. “Please, Kiri, tell me what I did wrong. I want to fix it. Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

Kirishima seemed to have some kind of struggle within himself. He grabbed onto the back of his desk chair and gripped it so hard Bakugou thought it might splinter. Finally he muttered, “It’s just…I’ve tried everything I can think of. Nothing’s working.”

“What isn’t?”

“I’ve tried tickling you,” Kiri continued, his eyes everywhere but the blonde. “I’ve tried outing you to our friends, I’ve tried tickling you in public, teasing you in public, saying things I thought would make you angry enough to retaliate…nothing!” He shoved his chair into his desk so hard it made Bakugou jump. “And then when you finally tickle me and call it revenge, we’re in the middle of class so I can’t even enjoy it because I don’t want to get in trouble. And I try challenging you openly and still nothing!” The redhead was on a roll now that the words were finally coming. “Even Sero has tickled me nearly to death, and he almost never does that kind of thing. Everyone seems to get it. Everyone can tell when I want it. But even when I outright tell you to do your worst, you do nothing!”

Bakugou was stunned.

“Why is it,” Kiri continued, voice rising, “that all of our friends know that I love being tickled and will tickle me when I want it, but my best friend just stands there even when I’m practically begging him to destroy me? I don’t understand!”

This time, the silence was on Bakugou’s end. He had no idea what to say. He’d never seen Kiri so openly upset, and over something that could have so easily been avoided if he’d just pulled his head out of his butt long enough to see how much damage his apathy was doing.

A long minute passed before he was able to speak.

“I…” Bakugou cleared his throat. “I didn’t know…I mean, I knew you liked it, but…I didn’t realize how much…” He frowned. “You want me to tickle you that bad?”

“Ugh!” Kirishima covered his face with his hands and cried, “Yes!”

“I’m…I’m sorry.” Bakugou took another step closer. “Kiri, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. It…it means a lot, doesn’t it?”

“It’s so stupid,” Kiri growled, but Bakugou could tell even before he turned his back again that his friend was on the verge of tears. Another sucker punch to the gut. “It’s so stupid. It’s just tickling. I shouldn’t be so upset over this, right? It’s so dumb of me.”

“Oh, heck no.” No way was Bakugou letting him go down this path with his thoughts. He strode right up to him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around. “Do not feel bad about this. This is my fault. This isn’t because you weren’t clear enough. I knew what you were asking for and I just stood there, like you said. Like a complete and total jerk. Do not apologize for my mistakes. Let me do that. Kiri, I’m so sorry.”

Kiri said nothing, but he swallowed thickly, and Bakugou pulled him into a hug before he could think twice about it. He held the redhead close and waited, hoping that his apology would be accepted. The silence stretched on for what felt like forever. Then, finally, Kiri wrapped his arms around him, too, sighing heavily into his shoulder.

“What is it?” Bakugou asked softly, genuinely, trying not to disturb the moment. As much as he hated sentiment, he didn’t want to screw this up any more than he already had. “Why is it so important to you? I want to understand.”

“That’s just it,” Kiri mumbled in reply. “I can’t put my finger on it, exactly. It’s just…it’s so much fun, and it makes me feel good, and when it’s with my friends I know I can feel comfortable and be open about it without judgement, and even when I’m getting absolutely destroyed I know I’m safe and they’ll stop when I really need them to. But until then I can just…laugh until I can’t breathe.” The redhead pulled away from Bakugou, keeping his eyes averted. “I don’t know. It’s just so much fun. And with you, I know you’re good at tickling; I’ve heard Midoriya talk about it, I even experienced it a couple of times. And you’re my best friend, so more than anyone else I want you to tickle me into next year. So when I openly asked you to and all this time has gone by and you’ve had lots of opportunities and you didn’t, I just…” Kiri bit his lip. “I felt like maybe you really didn’t care. You act like it a lot, but this time…this time I wondered if you—”

“I care,” Bakugou said quickly, desperate to bring an end to that train of thought. “I care, Kiri, I’m just a complete jerk.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “God, I really screwed things up. I’m an idiot.”

Kiri offered a weak smile. “It’s okay—”

“No it’s not okay!” Bakugou snapped. “Are you kidding me? Look how upset you are over this! How is any part of this okay? No.” He shook his head. “No. I have to fix this. I want to fix this.” He thought for a moment, then met Kiri’s eyes. “Do you still want me to?”

Kirishima stared at him. “W-What? Now?”

“Or later,” Bakugou said quickly. “If I haven’t ruined everything. But – but yeah, I’ll do it now, if you want.”

Kiri took a step back. “Talk about whiplash.”

“I know I’ve been a jerk, and I know you’re upset, but if you’re okay with it I’d much rather make you laugh right now—”

“Bakugou,” Kiri said, “I want you to tickle me. But only if you want to. Don’t do it just because you feel obligated. Do it because you mean it.”

Bakugou nodded once. “I mean it. I’ll tickle you into oblivion now, and then later I’ll do it again and again and again. I do want to make you laugh, Kiri. Really.” He dared to smirk. “But even more, I kind of want to see how much it will take for you to beg me for mercy.”

Kiri frowned. “It will take a lot. I’m not kidding about that.”

“Then bring it on.” Bakugou tackled Kirishima onto his bed, making the redhead yelp in surprise. He swung a leg over to straddle him and paused, just once. “You sure this is okay right now?”

“For the love of god, Bakugou,” Kiri groaned, “if you don’t make good on your promise right here and now I swear I will end our friendship and then end you!”

“Good enough for me.” Bakugou grinned wickedly, shoving Kiri’s arms above his head. “All right, then. When you really can’t take it anymore, tap out. Until then, I will not stop. Got it?”

“Prove it,” Kiri spat, but his eyes were hopeful.

“Keep those arms up there.” Bakugou growled, releasing his hold and sitting back. “Move them and I’ll make it worse.”

“All bark and no bite?”

“Hah.” Bakugou smirked. “One more thing. I want to make you laugh so hard you forget your own name. But before that, I want to see how long you can go without laughing. Bet you’re not going to be very good at that part.”

Kiri smirked back. “Bring it on already.”

Bakugou did, lightly trailing his fingers from Kiri’s underarms down his ribs and sides to his stomach, watching the redhead twitch a little but – surprisingly – do very well in keeping himself in control. “Hmm,” the blonde mused. “Should have had you take your shirt off. That would make this easier.”

“Want to enjoy the view?” Kiri teased. “I told you I look good in my costume as it is.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Give me a break.”

“The shirt stays on. You made me wait this long. Now I’m going to make you work for it.”

“I don’t think that will be hard, considering I can just do this.” The blonde shoved his hands up under Kiri’s t-shirt and raked his nails down his ribs roughly, making Kiri choke on a startled yelp. “Giving in already?”

“No way!”

“We’ll see.”

Bakugou got to work, starting very lightly and increasing the pressure with every pass, making sure to focus on the ribs when he circled back to them each time, knowing that was Kiri’s worst spot and very likely the place that would break him and make him laugh first. Kirishima kept his arms above his head as instructed and his smile widened more and more, but he did better than Bakugou was expecting at keeping his mirth at bay.

“Dang, you’re stubborn,” the blonde muttered after a few minutes of this. “Stop resisting, already.”

“Y-You’re the o-one who wanted m-me to h-hold out,” Kiri stammered. If nothing else, he sounded close to breaking, and that was satisfying just on its own. “I’m c-c-committed n-now.”

“Well, knock it off. I see that smile, but I want to hear you laugh, spiky hair.” Bakugou decided to be a little mean and press his thumbs into Kiri’s bottom ribs, kneading gently. “Come on. Let it out.”

“Agh, n-no,” Kiri’s voice wobbled as he tried to stay in check, his grin splitting his face. He squirmed a little. “That’s cheating!”

“Oh, is it? Too bad. Playing dirty is kind of my thing when it comes to tickling. Ask Deku.”

“I k-know all about that. He’s t-t-told me how r-ruthless you ahare.”

Bakugou kneaded deeper. “Was that a giggle?”

“Ah! N-No, no!”

“It sounded like a giggle.”

“It w-w-wasn’t!”

Feeling evil, Bakugou kept up his kneading pace and began to tease. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

Kiri whined. “Oh, y-you so don’t p-plahay fair!”

“Now that was a giggle.”

“You s-s-suck so much--!”

Bakugou dug his fingers in deep to Kirishima’s ribcage, and with a shriek of surprise, the redhead finally broke.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHERK I WAHAHAHAS DOING SO GOHOHOHOHOHOOD!!”

“Too good,” Bakugou corrected over Kiri’s laughter, impressed his friend’s arms were still above his head, albeit flailing now. “I was getting tired of you showing me up from such a helpless position. Forget resisting. It’s time to make you laugh your guts out.”

“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU SOHOHOHOHON OF A--!!”

Bakugou slapped a hand over his mouth and tickled wildly with his other hand, enjoying the look of sheer panic that came over Kiri’s face. The redhead started to bring his arms down. “Ah-ah-ah! What did I say? Keep them up.” Kiri whined, fisting his hands into his hair while his legs kicked wildly, the sounds of his distress muffled. “Well now, this is satisfying. You look hilarious, all freaked out like that. Didn’t think I’d pull out all the stops, did you?”

Kiri screeched when Bakugou started pinching his bottom ribs.

“I mean, I suppose I could also tie you up if I really wanted to be mean. But that’s your call, and you can’t talk right now, so I’m not going to assume anything.”

Kirishima started to bring his arms down again, then settled for covering his face with them. His laughter was loud and crazy, even behind Bakugou’s palm over his mouth. The blonde smirked down at his friend, marveling at how much he seemed to enjoy this, despite the obvious ticklish distress he was in.

“You’re probably thinking, ‘I thought you said you wanted to hear me laugh? Why are you covering my mouth?’ Right?” Bakugou chuckled. “I do want to hear you laugh. But it’s so much fun to make you desperate first. You’re just dying to let it out now, aren’t you? No more holding back?”

Kirishima managed a split-second glare in the midst of his muffled hysterics before nodding frantically.

“That’s what I thought.” Bakugou finally pulled his hand away and used both hands to rake up and down Kiri’s ribs.

“SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMEWHEHEHEHERE ELSE!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, PLEASE GO SOHOHOHOMEWHERE EHEHEHEHEHELSE!!”

Bakugou laughed. “What’s wrong? Can’t take it here anymore? But I want to hear you laugh, Kirishima.”

“I AHAHAHAHAHAHAM LAHAHAHAHAHAUGHING!!” Kiri screamed, his arms flailing wildly above him. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKUGOU!!”

“Honestly, I’m just trying to find the technique that will make you bring your arms down to stop me,” the blonde said with a shrug. “So I can make it worse.”

Kiri’s laughter was wild already, and they were only a few minutes in. He squealed and shrieked and thrashed and kicked but – somehow – kept his arms above him the entire time. Bakugou was impressed. That had to take serious effort on his part.

Now, how to break that concentration?

He’d tried kneading, pinching, and raking – all obviously effective forms of ticklish torture. But nothing had made Kiri’s fight-or-flight instinct kick in the way he’d hoped it would. What was he missing?

“Oh, I think I know what will drive you nuts.” Bakugou laughed, suddenly leaning down to blow the longest raspberry he could manage on Kirishima’s bottom ribs. Sure enough, not a whole second had gone by before he felt Kiri’s hands grabbing at his hair frantically.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DOHOHOHOHOHON’T DO THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!!”

“Well, well. I told you to keep your arms up.” Bakugou smirked, grabbing Kiri’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress by his sides. “Now I’ll have to punish you.”

Kiri gasped for breath while he could, his eyes wide and cheeks pink and hair wild, but behind it all, it was obvious to Bakugou that his best friend was having the time of his life. He couldn’t believe he’d made him wait this long. Made him practically beg for something as simple as a good tickling.

“Y-You’re gonna…b-break me,” Kiri stammered between breaths of air, sounding surprised. “I w-won’t be able to…to take it at this rate!”

“That’s the idea, isn’t it? You wanted me to destroy you, right?”

Kiri beamed. “Yeah.”

“Still good to go?”

“Yeah!”

Bakugou took a big breath, then blew another raspberry. Then another, then another, then another. Then he got to work absolutely destroying Kirishima with tickle torture, digging into his underarms and sides and hips and knees and feet, but especially his ribs, until the minutes added up and added up for nearly an hour, and by the time they were done Kirishima was laughing so hard his voice was giving out and tears streamed down his cheeks and he was pounding the mattress as desperately as he could to gain some shred of mercy from the tickle monster that was Katsuki Bakugou.

And when it was all over and Bakugou finally relented, Kirishima kept giggling even without the tickling stimulation, shaking his head in disbelief and gasping for oxygen. “I c-can’t…breheheathe…”

“You asked for it,” Bakugou reminded him, but he couldn’t help but grin at the mess he’d made of his closest friend. “And I promise, the next time you ask for it, I won’t hesitate to do this to you again. And again and again. As many times as you ask for it, I’ll destroy you, Kiri.”

“W-What about…playful tickles…?”

“Those, too.” Bakugou nodded. “I swear I’ll stop being an idiot about this. You ask, I’ll answer. I promise. I won’t ever let you give me the silent treatment again. I’ll be a best friend worthy of the title.” He wanted to cringe at himself for saying it, but it was all true, and besides that, Kirishima’s response was more than worth it.

“You were already a great best friend,” the redhead replied tiredly, lifting his head off the pillow to grin at him. “This just makes you that much better. Thank you, Katsuki. Seriously.”

Bakugou swallowed, feeling a little awkward due to all the sentiment in the room. He nudged Kiri’s leg. “Thanks for putting up with me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Sure you do. You’re a little rough around the edges but you’re a cool dude, King Explosion Murder.”

Bakugou’s lips twitched. “I told you if you called me that again there would be consequences.”

“Yeah?” Kiri chuckled. He leveled a clear, challenging smirk at the blonde. “Prove it.”

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #katsuki #bakugou #eijirou #kirishima #angst #fighting #friendship #fluff #wholesome #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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star-spangled-steve · 3 years

Text

His New Partner

Chapter 48: The Final Mission

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 2096

Warnings: Some anxious!Reader, pregnancy.

A/N: We’re getting closer and closer to the finish line, I can’t believe it!

Steve placed a hand on Y/N’s lower back as she pushed A.J.’s stroller, the family approaching the treed area around Tony’s, well, now Pepper’s cabin. It was the day after Stark’s funeral, and finally time for Steve to do the job that Y/N was dreading: returning the Infinity Stones to the moment they were taken.

She had asked him if someone else could do it, but the man had insisted that because of his eidetic memory, he was the only one who could execute it flawlessly. So alas, the woman agreed, though she still felt uneasy.

The last time there was time travel involved, her best friend didn’t come back. Who’s to say her husband couldn’t be next?

Steve, sensing her worries, pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. The look in his eyes said ‘everything is going to be okay’. She hoped that he was right.

“Hey, Cap. N/N.” Sam greeted as he and Bucky approached them. “Little buddy!” He bent down to get a look at Anthony in the stroller, smiling brightly at him. The toddler squealed happily in return.

“Hey, Sam.” Y/N responded, voice not entirely confident.

“You ready, pal?” Bucky questioned his best friend, earning a nod in response from the man.

Steve and Sam headed over to the desk that Bruce had set up, all of Bruce’s technological things on top of it, as well as the stones. Bucky decided to hang back with Y/N and A.J., knowing that she probably needed the support right now. He sensed her worries and gave her a reassuring smile, and she tried to give one back; the best she could.

“Now, remember, you have to return the stones to the exact moment you got them. Or you're gonna’ open up a bunch of nasty alternative realities.” Banner instructed Steve, opening the briefcase that held the Infinity Stones themselves.

“Don't worry, Bruce.” The Captain said, closing the briefcase back up and grabbing it. “Clip all the branches.”

“You know, I tried.” Bruce suddenly grew serious. “When I had the gauntlet, the stones, I really tried to bring her back.” His thoughts were lost in the memory that was Natasha as he glanced down at Steve. “I miss her, man.”

Rogers nodded, “Me too.” He quickly looked over at his love, knowing that she felt the exact same way.

He and Sam started to head over to where she was standing with Bucky. “You know, if you want, I can come with you.” Sam volunteered, always happy to help.

“You're a good man, Sam.” Steve stopped walking and stated. “This one's on me, though.” As he approached Bucky, he smirked, excited for the line he was about to say. “Don't do anything stupid 'till I get back.” Oh, how the tables had turned.

Barnes chuckled and shook his head. “How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you.” They gave each other a quick hug, and the brown-haired soldier sighed as they separated. “Be safe, buddy. I mean it.”

“It's gonna’ be okay, Buck.” The Captain reassured before stepping over to where his wife was standing, giving her a tiny grin. “Now you, little lady, better calm down.” He watched as her shoulders slumped and brought a hand up to cradle her face. “I promise you it’s going to be alright, doll. Not that difficult of a mission.”

“I-I know it’s just...” she paused, looking him deep in the eyes. “Please be careful, Steve. I can’t stress that enough.”

“I will.” He answered her in a very serious tone. “I promise.” The man watched as she bit her bottom lip nervously, and brought his thumb to her mouth, taking the lip out from between her teeth gently. He then leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss, knowing that he’ll miss her as he’s on his journey.

Her hand settled on the chest piece of his Scale Mail Suit, wanting to feel more of him and relish the moment. She gave him a soft smile as they separated, and nudged her head over to where Mjolnir was placed on the Quantum Tunnel. “You know, it’s a shame you have to bring that thing back.” She spoke quietly, not wanting Bucky, or even worse, her son to hear her.

“And why’s that?” Steve smirked, thinking he already knew the answer.

“Well, it’s, um... quite sexy that you can wield it, actually. Just like... you know, the power you hold? It’s... hot.” Y/N fluttered her eyelashes, and the man chuckled.

“Don’t tell me you’ve found it sexy when Thor’s done it all these years?” He teased, raising his eyebrows.

“No, no.” She laughed in response, moving in a bit closer to him flirtatiously. “Just you.”

Steve, really wanting to drive her crazy, simply held out his right hand and watched her expression as Mjolnir came flying into it automatically. Her eyes lit up and he grinned cockily.

“Oh boy...” she murmured. “Looks like you might be getting some toni-”

“Steve?” Bruce called out, cutting her off. “You ready to get moving?”

“Yeah.” He responded back, not taking his eyes off his girl. “Sorry, guys.” The man placed on last peck on her lips before crouching down to give her almost-six-months baby belly a kiss, then one to A.J.’s cheek as well. “Dad will be back very soon, buddy.” He told the boy, stroking his cheek, before standing up straight and walking up onto the Quantum Tunnel, giving Y/N a confident expression. He wanted to show her that he wasn’t worried, so she shouldn’t be either. He then pressed the button on his hand that made the Quantum Suit appear on his body.

“How long is this gonna’ take?” Sam questioned.

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds.” Bruce answered.

“See, sweetie?” Steve spoke out to his wife. “You only have to wait five seconds and I’ll be right back here.”

She took a shaky breath. “Y-Yup.”

“Ready, Cap?” Banner asked, making the blond man nod in response. “Alright. We'll meet you back here, okay?”

“You bet.” The helmet then appeared on his head, sealing his body up completely.

The green man began counting: “Going quantum. Three... two... one...”

Then he was gone. He disappeared into thin air, and Y/N gave Bucky a nervous look.

Bruce spoke up again. “And returning in, five... four... three... two... one...”

Just as quickly as he had disappeared, Steve was reappearing on the Quantum Tunnel, looking almost the exact same as when he had left; the only difference maybe being a couple hairs out of place. As the Quantum Suit dissipated off his body, his wife let out a huge sigh.

“Honey. Thank goodness.” She rejoiced, running over to him as he walked down the stairs, and they met halfway in a hug. The man just ran his hands up and down her back, breathing in the fresh smell of her shampoo. “How long were you gone?” She asked.

“Longer than five seconds.” He responded, pulling her face out of his chest to look her in the eye. “I missed you.” A kiss was then pressed to her forehead, and a small giggle from A.J. interrupted the pair.

“Cool trick, dadda!” The boy smiled from his place in the stroller, prompting Y/N to take him out of it and hold him in her arms.

Steve just chuckled at his son’s words, pressing a kiss to his head too. “Thanks, bud. I missed you as well. So much.”

“Hey, you got your shield back.” Sam smiled. “And it’s in one piece this time.” He joked, slapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Captain America can serve another day.”

At Wilson’s words, Steve shared a look with Bucky, the brown-haired man already knowing what was coming.

“Actually, uh...” Steve began, glancing at each of their faces, ready to see what their reaction will be, “I don’t think I will be.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped as Sam and Bruce grew confused as well.

“What are you talking about?” She questioned.

“If this whole battle and journey has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t keep putting my life on the line like this. Not when I have a family.” The man looked into her eyes, still seeing confusion in them. “I was once told that I couldn’t live without a war. And maybe I couldn’t then, but I can now. There’s nothing more important to me than you and our kids, Y/N. I’m not going to jeopardize that.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” she spoke, “you’re done fighting? For good?”

He gave her a nod. “For good.”

She covered her mouth with her free hand and began to cry, Steve pulling her into his side instantly.

“Are you... sad?” He asked, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“Not at all.” She sniffled. “I’m so happy. I don’t have to worry anymore.” She looked up at her husband, and they had matching smiles; smiles of contentedness, safety, and security.

“Steve...” Bruce released a breath, “good for you, man. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Sam agreed. “It’s just... the only thing bumming me out is the fact I have to live in a world without Captain America.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Steve glanced down at his shield one last time, trying to savour the exact feel of it, before holding it out slightly. “Try it on.”

Wilson furrowed his eyebrows. “W-What? Me?” He glanced over at Bucky, who nodded, signalling that he knew about this all along. Sam carefully took the shield from Steve and adjusted it on his arm, staring down at the red, white, and blue pattern. He was so confused; Steve was trusting him with his legacy? This couldn’t be right.

“How does it feel?” Rogers inquired.

“Like it's someone else's.”

“It isn’t.”

“I-” Sam tried to hold back his tears, still in a state of shock. “Thank you. I'll do my best.”

Steve grinned. “That's why it's yours.” He shook the man’s hand, the reality of what this means suddenly hitting them all.

Y/N passed her son over to his dad before giving Sam a big hug. “I’m so happy for you.” She smiled through her tears.

“You too.” Sam replied, referring to the fact that half of her anxiety would now be alleviated from this moment forward.

She walked back to her husband and wrapped her arms around his waist, both Bucky and Bruce and congratulating Wilson.

“So what are you gonna’ do now, Steve?” Banner questioned.

The blond man smiled at the thought of his future plans. “Be a dad. And a husband. I can help make plans for the new Avengers Facility, help train the newbies. Do charity. Teach an art class. Anywhere this new path takes me.”

The woman sniffled, a big smile never leaving her face. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Me too.” Bucky added, happy that his friend could finally live in peace.

Steve just smiled at them, pulling his son closer towards his chest.

“Dadda, I’m hungwy.” The toddler stated, making everyone chuckle at how clueless he was about what was going on.

“Me too, buddy.” His father agreed. “Hey, how about you all come back to ours and we can order a pizza, just hang out?” He suggested.

“Ooo, pizza!” Y/N grew excited. “Yes, please.”

“I’m in.” Bruce added.

Bucky nodded. “Me too.”

“Sounds delicious.” Said Sam. “Considering you’re going to be feeding two super soldiers, the Hulk, and a pregnant woman, you might want to order a lot, Steve.” He joked, and the blond laughed.

“I’m plenty used to it by now.”

“I just need to take down all the equipment.” Banner stated. “You guys go ahead, it shouldn’t take me long. I’ll be there in 45.”

“Sure you don’t need help?” Y/N asked.

“It’s pretty complicated. I could probably do it faster on my own.” He chortled.

“Alright.” The woman spoke. “We’ll leave you two full pizzas.”

The group laughed as they began to walk out for the treed area and to their cars.

“So... does this mean I’m the new boss?” Sam broke the silence, his words hopeful.

“Not of me.” Steve stated with a firm, yet playful look.

“I’m not an Avenger.” Y/N giggled.

“Right, right. Only the people who are part of the team.” Wilson spoke, a huge smirk beginning to build up on his face. “So that means... I’m in charge of... Bucky.”

The brown-haired soldier let out a huge sigh. “Only during a battle.”

“Oh ho ho, this is gonna’ be great!” Sam cheered.

“See,” Steve chuckled, “you two are getting along already!”

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!❤️

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

163 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 3 years

Text

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment w/c; 3.3k a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse and @woozisnoots for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right.

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right.

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right.

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?”

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get.

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right.

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left.

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out.

Billiam has Super-liked you!

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam.

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick.

Billiam is typing…

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment.

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.”

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!”

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!”

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly.

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!”

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep.

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.”

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?”

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen.

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky.

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder.

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask.

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer.

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off.

He’s getting an incoming call. From you.

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard.

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up.

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this.

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up.

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?”

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it.

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.”

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.”

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity.

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?”

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?”

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.”

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit.

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?”

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.”

“Good night.”

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence.

The waning starts today.

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time?

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep?

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe.

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night.

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal.

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies.

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.”

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy.

“Who is it?”

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.”

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard.

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder.

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?”

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship.

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.”

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you.

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.”

Liar. He’s a liar.

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.”

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?”

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—”

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s.

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—”

“Uji?”

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm.

“Uh, hey?”

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement.

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!”

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away.

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?”

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together.

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down.

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?”

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him.

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.”

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look.

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?”

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch.

“It’s—”

“Complicated.”

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly.

“There’s things you’re not telling me.”

“Right.”

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add.

“Yes.”

“Then what are some things you can tell me?”

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.”

“Paperwork?”

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life?

“Okay,” you finally say.

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens.

“Really.”

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease.

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.”

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle.

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #svtcreations #jihoon fic #woozi fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios

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thedeathdeelers · 3 years

Note

Okay just because I fucking love your writing unmm something about Julie maybe reflecting on how Luke was brought to her, by the universe or her mom etc, and just fucking soulmate fluff. I loved your religion drabble btw!!

thank you so much!!!🥰

sorry for the delay :$ but i hope you like it!! (ps it turned out to be way longer than i anticipated, so, ya)

pps: you can now find this on my AO3 🤗

——

i think i dreamed you into life

It was a Julie & Luke writing session, just like any other. They were sat, hunched over their shared journal on the faded black couch, too absorbed by the words and notes scribbled on the pages in front of them to pay any attention to anything else.

Julie had just had an epiphany, finally finding the right words to lead them into the chorus following the first verse. With a stiff neck and a cramping hand, Julie stretched her arms over her head, sitting up for a second before collapsing back onto the back cushions of the couch. She heaved a large sigh, looking around and only just registering the low setting sun. They had somehow managed to lose track of time, again, spending well over what she assumed was 4 hours working on this one song. She shook her head, a small smile on her lips as she looked back at her writing partner, still fully focused on the journal in his lap.

They were so alike sometimes, it scared her a little. How could they be so perfect for each other when they were never meant to meet? Cross paths? She often found herself wondering about the way they were brought together, the reasons they were in each others’ lives. But then as soon as her mind wandered towards the mysteries of the universe and its guiding powers, she always ended up spiraling - no matter how she looked at it, Luke and her were somehow meant to be. Fated. Star crossed....whatever.

Her train of thought would always start off innocently enough - she was part of a ghost band. She could see ghosts (well three particular ghosts, at least) - the only lifer who could without Caleb’s help (as far as Willie could tell). She had never really been one to believe in the supernatural, but she was now so intrinsically involved, that she frequently wondered whether everything about her life wasn’t just a dream. Maybe after years & years of practice, she had managed to hone in her daydreaming skills to a point that allowed her to create a world that sounded a little too much like she was the protagonist in a movie or a show. This couldn’t actually be real life, could it? Her life?

The couch shifted, Luke reaching over to grab his guitar, testing out a line before placing his guitar back on the ground, and crossing out a whole section. No, she doesn’t think her mind could have ever managed to dream up Luke.

Don’t get her wrong, there were definitely moments where Julie felt just as normal as she used to. She’d forget that the boys were anything other than her lovable, goofy bandmates. Normal teenage boys, messing around and playing music in her mom’s studio. But then she would look up and see bright hazel eyes staring back at her, and she‘d unexpectedly be hit again by the storm of emotions that washed over her the first time she had accidentally walked through Luke. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She had felt cold, then warm, and then this peculiar feeling of being....whole. Like she had just come home after a long tiring trip. She couldn’t describe it properly even if she tried, but the only thing that came close to summing it up was home.

Julie closed her eyes, trying to recreate the feeling, bringing it back up to the surface.

Her logical side knew soulmates was just a term used to romanticise romance, she knows that, but whenever she remembers that feeling, just like she is now, she wonders whether she had somehow felt his soul in that kitchen - sneaked a peek before latching onto it. These thoughts made it harder to hold onto logic.

Ugh, she was spiralling again. Julie lifted her hands to her face, rubbing furiously at her eyes, trying to dislodge some of the thoughts clouding her mind. She could feel a headache coming on, and that was the last thing she needed right now. She rolled her head back, resting against the old cushions, and looked at the floating chairs on the ceiling.

Her mother. Didn’t her mother always tell her that there was more to the world than meets the eye? That it wasn’t always wise to think only with one’s mind, but to trust your gut, your heart?

It used to be comments like those that led Julie to believe that her mother was more than just her mother. Could Rose have been an angel in disguise all along? Fate, Love, personified? Julie would be lying to herself if she said she had never thought about her mother being the key instigator behind the boys’ presence in her life. She just somehow knew that Rose had handpicked these boys, and sent them to her. Sent Luke to her. She had known that Julie would need divine intervention to pull herself out of her slump, and who better to do that than the one person, the one soul in the universe that perfectly aligned with hers?

Julie rolled her head to the side once more, staring at Luke’s profile, his brows drawn, deep in thought. If he hadn’t died all those years ago, if he hadn’t eaten that unfortunate hotdog, this never would have been possible - they never would have met. Julie shuddered at the thought, her heart and soul aching in protest.

A connection of heart, mind and soul, her mother had told her. “They really do exist, mija” she‘d say, but Julie would only smile and nod, never truly believing that soulmates were real, that they were part of the universe’s grand design. But now-

Oh. Soulmates.

“Did you say something?”

Startled, Julie blinked herself out of her daze, realising too late that she was thinking out loud.

“N- no, no, nothing. Just uh- just thinking of the next verse, you know,” she chuckled awkwardly, avoiding Luke as she tried not to fidget. “Always working!” She pointed to her temple, immediately regretting the movement, cringing at her awful attempt at a cover up.

She could feel Luke’s unwavering gaze, focused on her as he sat up, pushing the journal onto the seat next to him. He shifted, turning towards her, even as she continued to face forward. Her cheeks were definitely getting warmer. Not good.

“Did you-” she saw him tilt his head to the side from the corner of her eye, “did you just say Soulmates?”

A lie was on the tip of her tongue, ready to burst, but as she reflexively slid her eyes to meet his, the words died out before they could be vocalised.

He was looking at her with a peculiar look in his eyes, a slightly awed expression etched on his face.

“I- I was just thinking...” She stuttered, unable to take her eyes off of Luke’s, even as her fingers fiddled with the loose threads of her jumper.

“About?”

“You know,” she lifted her hands, gesturing at the space around them, trying to be as vague as possible. “Life.”

Eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his orange beanie.

“Life? Really?”

“Yes. Life. Just..you know, how things change. Like the way you grow up thinking one thing but then something happens and it completely changes the way you see the world around you, the way your beliefs...shift.” She shrugged, trying and failing to seem nonchalant.

“Hm, deep thoughts for a Saturday afternoon.” He studied her for a second, before cocking his head to the side. “Any reason this led to the conclusion of Soulmates?”

Julie shifted uncomfortably, trying hard not to look away even as she felt her cheeks somehow growing even warmer.

“I...I was just thinking about my mom. And things she used to talk about and believe in with a certainty that always...confused me I guess. How could she believe in something so easily, when she couldn’t even see it? Feel it?” Julie diverted her gaze, choosing to look at her mom’s piano instead. Her voice took on a quieter tone, almost reflective as she continued with her new train of thought. “What if she wanted me to believe again? What if she had somehow found a way to not only get music back into my life, but to believe in love and fate and-“ Julie stopped short, her eyes darting back to Luke - his face was now frozen, showing her nothing of what he might be feeling.

Julie suddenly felt very silly.

“Never mind,” she laughed awkwardly, trying to play it off as just silly musings. “My mind was just wandering, but now I’m back and maybe we should just get back to that second verse...” Her voice trailed off, Luke��s face still giving nothing away.

Crap. She just made it weird - this is what she gets for letting her mind go down the rabbit hole that is the universe and its misguided mysteries. Way to go, Julie.

Just as she was about to jump up and flee to her bedroom, hoping that maybe her floor would do her the courtesy of swallowing her up, Julie felt the couch dip further down to her right, Luke’s knee pressing up against her thigh. Resisting the urge to look at him, her eyes flickered to her fingers, to their journal and then back to her mom’s piano.

“You know,” Luke spoke up, voice soft, almost a whisper, “I never gave fate much thought back when I was alive. I always figured a person forged their own fate by believing hard enough in what they wanted and then working even harder to get there.” He reached over, grabbing hold of her right hand, ceasing the fidgeting motions of her fingers. “Even when it came to my soul, I only ever considered it when thinking about music and the power it had over me and my life. If music was so important, wouldn’t it mean my soul was constantly connected to it? My instrument, an intrinsic part of who I am?”

He went quiet for a few seconds, prompting Julie to turn her head back towards him, as his calloused thumb started rubbing gently against her knuckles. His gaze, which had been glued to her face the entire time, was now locked on their hands.

“So I always figured I was “fated”, I guess you could say, to follow that connection I had with music, and just see where that took me.” His fingers were now tracing little circles on the back of her hand. “But then we died, and became ghosts, and it changed the way I think about things, but at the same, my core beliefs remained the same. I’m still not sure about fate, and the role it plays in how things are dictated in my life, but I know that music is still such a major part of me. Because, I mean, if that wasn’t the case, how could you have possibly pulled me back from the dead and down to earth by playing our song? How could you, a lifer 25 years after I died, have been the one to pull me back, and make me feel alive again?” He shook his head before he continued. “And every time I ask myself these questions I just come back to the same conclusion,” he stops for a second, lifting his eyes back up to hers. “You embody music to me. You, Julie, have always been what my soul was connected to - not my guitar, not just music in general - but you, my own personal musical goddess.” His lips tilted up at the corners at his last words, his eyes boring into hers.

“So yeah, I know what you mean about not necessarily wanting to believe in something unless you can see it or feel it. But at this stage, how could I not believe in soulmates when you’re right here, somehow a part of my life, 25 years after I’ve died?” He shook his head again, his smile getting a little sad. “We technically never should have met, would have never crossed paths, but fate....fate had other plans for us I guess. Our souls just couldn’t bare being separated, and the universe just....found a way to rectify that.”

Julie could do nothing but stare at the beautiful boy in front of her, her mind trying to process the prose he just recited to her. Almost as if by reflex, Julie slowly lifted her hands up, cupping his face and held onto him like he was the most precious thing in the entire world - because he was.

Luke mirrored her actions, his eyes soft, as his fingers traced her cheeks, wiping away tears she didn’t even know were there.

And just as she was about to let loose the words that had been rattling around in her mind ever since he had stumbled into her life, Luke beat her to it.

“I think we might be soulmates, Jules.”

FIN

#ask #jatp #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fics #my fics #ask fics #luke patterson #julie molina #luke x julie #julie x luke #thedeathdeelers fics

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Note

If it’s okay, how about “You always do that. You always warm me up.” and/or “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” with jontim for the soft sentence prompts? your writing is some of my favourite of all time and your jontim especially is just *chefs kiss* mwah. Incredible.

Some soft JonTim for one of my favorite artists! Always happy to have another friend to spread the good word of this pairing, a particular favorite of mine. Hope you enjoy!

“Jon, you look wrecked.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” replied said wreck. “I’ve just got a cold, that’s all.”

Tim fixed him with an incredulous look. Jon stumbled through the doors of the library this morning looking for all the world like the equivalent of ‘hammered shit’ (Sasha’s words). Jon’s usual vibe was tired and harried on a good day, but this was pushing it. He only managed to get about half of his hair into a bun, the rest hanging limply around his face. He’d thrown a chunky cardigan over his clothes to hide that they were the same ones from yesterday. It did not work. Complete with red cheeks and bleary eyes, the man was not fit to be in a workplace.

Jon begged to differ. “I’m fine,” he said, burying a cough in his elbow. “I took medicine. Look.” With that, he dug a crushed box of liquid capsules out of his bag and threw it haphazardly in the direction of Tim, who caught it in startled hands.

“This is expired,” he replied after one look at the box. “It’s also not meant for daytime. When did you take this again?” Jon frowned uncomprehendingly as he attempted to parse out the words and Tim would’ve gathered him up in his arms right then if it wouldn’t embarrass him.

“Hmm.” The question should not be difficult. “‘Bout an hour ago, maybe?” Jon listed dangerously to the side, grabbing at his desk to keep steady and in the process knocking an overflowing cup of pencils to the ground. “Oops.” Jon was occasionally a man of few words, but ‘oops’ was not one of them. Tim immediately got to his feet, rushing over to steady him.

“‘Oops’ is right.” He gently managed to get Jon to his feet, leaning most of his body weight against Tim’s side. “You’re going home.” Jon just slumped further into his arms, barely managing a nod. His sudden compliance worried Tim; usually, Jon would put up way more of a fuss, getting snippy and slapping his hands away. This easy submission, while appreciated, made him more nervous than reassured.

“G’bye, Sasha,” Jon attempted a wave on the way out that looked more like a vague swatting of the air. “Tim’s takin’ me home.” She smiled indulgently, giving the two of them a wave in return.

“Take care of your man, Tim! And that’s an order.”

Tim would’ve saluted if he didn’t have an armful of Jon. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Your man?” Jon mumbled as they made their way down the hallway, sinking further into his side. He said it as if the words were foreign, confusing. Tim couldn’t help his laughter.

“Well, yeah.” He nodded in thanks to Rosie, who held the door open on the way out with a pitying look at Jon. The air outside was cold, bracing- Jon’s ridiculously chunky cardigan still wasn’t enough against the wind. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t help you in your hour of need?” In a stroke of luck, he managed to snag a cab as soon as someone exited at the building next door. The less time outside, the better. “In you go!” He managed to gently extract Jon from his side and maneuver him into the back of the car. He rattled off his own address to the cabbie- if all Jon had at home was an expired packet of night-time medicine, he didn’t have much faith in the rest of his medical supplies.

He shut the car door and turned to find Jon staring at him in a sort of wide-eyed, loopy wonder. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so concerning. “What is it?” he asked, running a comforting hand over his arm. “Are you okay?”

“We’re...boyfriends?” Shit. Tim realized they hadn’t used the term before and here he was, just casually slipping it out. It was not unlike him; Sasha always teased him at how easily he fell in love. But he was trying to take it slowly with Jon, do things right. Jon deserved that.

“I mean...yes?” It came out more nervously than he’d like, Jon was really doing him in with those giant, hopeful eyes. Damn him. He tried for familiar, easy ground. “I’ve been wining and dining you all around town. Do my forehead kisses mean nothing to you?” He put a hand to his chest, dramatic and exaggerated. “I’m wounded.”

“No!” Jon exclaimed, grabbing at the hand on Tim’s chest with an unexpected strength. “I like those. Please don’t stop.” His face was a blazing fever-red and filled with concern, not unlike when he was drunk and oblivious to teasing. “You won’t stop, w-will you?”

Tim’s heart melted without his permission. “Course not.” He took the small hand and squeezed it with his own. Jon sunk into a similarly sappy expression; he had no right being this adorable on expired cold medication. God, he loved him.

Shit.

Jon continued to talk, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “Iz’zat why you got me those Valentine’s chocolates?”

Shit.

“And the bear?”

Love? The big ol’ ‘L’ word? What if he’d sprung that on Jon like this, in the back of a cab when he wouldn’t remember it?

“And the balloon?”

How embarrassing for him. Truly.

“And the card?” Tim had forgotten Jon was still talking.

“Yes!” He choked out against Jon’s interrogation. “God, I didn’t realize how much of a sap I was.” Jon giggled in response, a high, happy sound incongruous with his usual sarcastic snorts.

“Yeah, you are.” He snuggled into Tim’s side; he could feel the heat radiating from the man, even through his jacket. “You gotta tell me these things. Else I won’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.” Jon was a literal man, Tim knew this. But he hadn’t exactly been subtle in his overtures.

“Boyfriends,” Jon sighed dreamily. “I like that.”

Hopefully he would remember this conversation.

__________

“This is not my flat.”

“Got it in one, Sherlock.”

He shuffled Jon through the door, depositing him as gently as possible on the couch and wrapping a fluffy blanket around his shoulders. He looked ridiculous, eyes at half-mast and a confused look on his face. “Gonna wait on the paracetamol, at least until the shit you’re on wears off.”

“Hnnh.” Jon leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes in contentment like a particularly lazy cat. “Kay.” Tim puttered about in the kitchen, getting a glass of water and wetting a rag; he should at least attempt to get the fever under control, Jon’s insistence on layers wasn’t helping. But he couldn’t say no to him, shaking and shivering as he was. Jon deserved a blanket burrito if he wanted one.

Tim pushed the glass of water into Jon’s hands, urging him to take a couple of sips before he set it back down. He plopped himself down on the couch, maneuvering Jon so that he was laying against his chest and placing the damp rag on his forehead, despite his protests. “We’re going to watch some crap telly and you’re going to take a nap. Sound good?” He should’ve probably gotten the remote before he laid down, but now that Jon was snuggled against his chest he was pretty much immovable.

“You’re not going back to work?” Jon asked the question as if Tim staying home was uncalled for and strange. He snorted in response. Typical Jon.

“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.”

Jon managed to lift his head a few precious centimeters, though he was straining with the effort. He looked as if he were going to say something very important, but he instead just collapsed back against his chest and buried his face in Tim’s jumper with a lazy purr of contentment. I can’t believe I’m dating a literal cat.

“God, you’re really burning up,” Tim rearranged the towel so it was back on his forehead, having fallen off during Jon’s attempt at conversation.

His next words were muffled against Tim’s chest. “You always do that. You always warm me up.”

Tim almost audibly cooed at the sentiment before seeing an opportunity for a joke and taking it. Let it never be said that Tim Stoker missed an opening.

“Why Jon,” his voice took on an unbearable, teasing tone as his smile grew. “Are you saying I’m so hot I made you sick?” Jon groaned at the words, as expected.

“No.”

“How does that song go, again? You’re givin’ me fev-aah-”

“Shut up, Tim!” He let out a quiet chuckle, giving Jon a light squeeze in apology.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you rest.” Jon sighed, curling up in his arms. They stayed like that for some time; Tim rubbing a gentle hand up and down his back. Just when he thought Jon had been lulled to sleep, he spoke up in a quiet tone.

“You...you actually have a nice voice.” The words were slurred and Tim tried not to take offense at the ‘actually’ addendum. “But maybe just a bit quieter. And just a hum. Thanks.”

He snickered. “Will do.”

“Love you.” Tim froze, his hand stilling in its movements. He doesn’t mean it, he told himself firmly. He’s just tired and loopy. He won’t remember this when he wakes up. Still, he responded and the intensity behind the words was surprising even to him.

“Love you, too.”

Jon slept and Tim ran his fingers through his hair, listening to his soft snores. In an hour or two, he’d make him soup and insist on a dose of real meds. And that night, when Jon was curled around him in bed, with clear eyes and a lucid voice he’d repeat the words he mumbled earlier. And he would mean them.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977733

#my writing #prompt fills #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #sickfic #fluff #just two boys in love here #cinnamoniic

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happyandticklish · 3 years

Text

Clumsy Giggles

Notes: This is something I’ve been working on ever since I first watched Weird Science. I finally went through and finished it, because I wanted to have it out before the buttload of requests I now have (which btw, thank you so much for all the requests, I love you guys???)

Summary: Gary comes home drunk one day and Wyatt attempts to help him while nursing a burgeoning crush on his best friend.

Gary was drunk.

The second he stumbled through the oak doorways and into Wyatt’s startled arms, he knew. He circled his arms around him, pressing his face into his neck and mumbling something that Wyatt couldn’t hear.

“Woah, hey,” Wyatt said, squirming as Gary nuzzled into his neck. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I got—I got…” Gary tried for a moment to form words, breaking off into a silly grin. “I’m drunk, Wy.”

“I know,” Wyatt agreed, trying to hold up Gary’s slumping form. “Where on earth did you get alcohol from?”

“I got it from Deb. She said it would… she said it would be fun. And I!” Gary exclaimed suddenly, whirling around before falling back into Wyatt’s arms. “Am very fun! Woo!”

Deb. His girlfriend. Of course. Wyatt shoved down his growing resentment and raised an eyebrow. “Oh are you now?”

“I am.” Gary grinned proudly. “Did you know Wyatt…” he broke off suddenly, lost in a fit of giggles. “Did you know… that you are very pretty?”

Wyatt blushed, knowing that his friend probably didn’t mean the words. Whenever Gary got drunk like this, he grew very clingy and affectionate with everyone, though mostly Wyatt, before passing out and forgetting everything the next day. Gary didn’t often get drunk, as he didn’t actually prefer the taste of alcohol or the hangover the next day, but each time Wyatt would have to remind himself that it was just the liquor talking.

“I can’t say the same for you,” Wyatt informed him dryly, glancing down at his bedraggled state. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

He slowly maneuvered Gary over to one of their divan couches, bending over to lay him down on it. As he did however, the former grasped Wyatt’s shirt, tugging it suddenly and taking the other boy down with him. Wyatt yelped, barely catching himself on the other’s shirtsleeves. Gary glanced down at him, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hey.”

“You are a massive nerd,” Wyatt informed him. “And drunk and tired and going to hate yourself in the morning for drinking that much. I think you should have a glass of water and go to bed.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Gary cried, offended.

“Then don’t get black-out drunk and show up on my doorstep.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gary shushed, pressing a finger against his lips. Wyatt stared down at it, unimpressed. “Don’t be like that. You know what I think you need? A kiss. I’ll kiss it, make it better.”

Butterflies exploded in Wyatt’s stomach at the words he had longed to hear (albeit more coherently) for so long. Usually in his head, though, it was in a much different context than this. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could Gary was already leaning forward. Being drunk and out of it, however, his mouth entirely missed the other boy’s and ended up somewhere near his jawline. Gary evidently decided that that was good enough and started pressing silly, quick kisses all over his jaw and neck.

Wyatt squirmed underneath him, the kisses far too light for his taste. “Wait, no, stop!”

“Why?”

“B-Because!”

Wyatt was hoping that maybe Gary wouldn’t pick up on the reason. Unfortunately for him, Gary decided then to have a moment of clarity, and leaned back just slightly to grin down at him. “Oh I get it! You’re ticklish.”

Shit.

“N-No, I’m not,” Wyatt insisted, but it was too late as Gary slipped hands under his shirt, wiggling fingers against his bare skin. It was clumsy and drunken, but even the unfocused touch managed to drive the other boy up the wall as giggles fell suddenly from his lips.

“Wahahait,” he protested, shoving weakly at his shoulders. “N-No tihihickling!”

“Yes tickling,” Gary insisted stubbornly. “I like seeing you smile. And laugh. You don’t laugh anymore.”

“I-I doho tohohoo!” Wyatt squeaked, shrinking under him. “M-Make mehe laugh ohother wahahays!”

“No,” Gary refused, his hands climbing quite suddenly under the other boy’s arms. That was the last straw, and Wyatt easily flipped their positions, spidering more precise tickles all over the other boy’s sides.

However sensitive Wyatt may have been, Gary was ten times worse and drunk. The two facts when combined with Wyatt’s fingers, which were well-acquainted after years of friendship with all his tickle spots, resulted in a mess of flailing limbs and hysterical laughter from the other boy. He couldn’t even gather enough coherency to push his hands away, collapsing in a giggly puddle into Wyatt’s arms.

Wyatt quite possibly was going to be dead by the end of the night.

“Nohohohoho fahahahahahair!” Gary squeaked, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sensations. “Y-yohohou cahahan’t gehehet mehehe bahahack!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t win,” Wyatt answered with a shrug. “It’s your own fault for being so ticklish all the time. Now, where was that spot you always liked?”

“Nohohohoho,” Gary cried, eyes widening, but it was too late as hands latched suddenly onto his hips, sending the boy into another level of sensation. “Nahahahaha, stahahahap! Ahaha, wahahait, ihihihihit tihihihickles!”

“I know,” Wyatt said, rolling his eyes with an affectionate smile. “That’s sort of the point.” After another couple seconds of torturing his friend, he did back off, letting the other slowly regain his breath. “There. Have you learned your lesson?”

To his surprise, Gary shook his head, grinning impishly and grabbing his hands. He placed them on either of his sides. “No. I haven’t.”

Wyatt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Are you asking me to tickle you?”

Gary nodded, beaming. “It’s fun!”

Wyatt’s heart stuttered in his chest at the sheer honesty of the statement, the kind of honesty Gary would never reveal sober. There may also have been a part of him that was more than happy to reduce his friend to a mess of giggles again if that was what he wanted.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Wyatt asked, teasingly running his fingers over his sides so that Gary was squirming under him. “I’m not gonna easy on you.”

“Bite me,” Gary answered, sticking out his tongue. The obscene phrase was as close as he was going to come to answering him, and thus Wyatt got started.

Gary burst into giggles anew as Wyatt slipped his hands under his shirt, crawling his fingers up his sides. Gary attempted to pull his hands away, but each sluggish attempt was easily avoided. Inebriation, it seemed, served a form of bondage all in and of itself. “Ehehehehe, wahahahait! I-Ihihi cahahahan’t!”

“You can’t what?” Wyatt taunted, raising an eyebrow. “You have to use your words Gar.”

Gary flipped him a shaky middle finger and Wyatt pinched his hips in retaliation, prompting a hiccupy squeak from the boy.

Every giggle, snort, and whine from Gary fueled Wyatt on in a mission he didn’t quite understand himself. He couldn’t deny that his friend was quite cute like this, and the fact that he was reacting like this under his fingers made him happy in a way he couldn’t explain. Before he knew it, almost fifteen minutes had passed like this and Gary had reached a final point of desperation after Wyatt rediscovered how devilishly ticklish his armpits were.

“EhehehehEHEHE, WyhahahaHAHAhatt! Ahahahaha, nohohoho mohoHOHOHohore!” Gary arched against the couch, desperately trying to pry his hands away.

“Okay, fine,” Wyatt agreed, removing his hands and allowing Gary a chance to breathe. Gary opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get any words out Wyatt suddenly squeezed both his knees, causing the boy to nearly fall of the couch from his sudden flail. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re mean,” Gary accused, leaning his exhausted body against Wyatt. “And evil, and a jerk, and I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Wyatt froze as the airy words floated from his lips, Gary’s eyes already fluttering close into a contented sleep. “W-What did you say?”

“That you’re mean,” Gary repeated dutifully, sighing as he snuggled in against Wyatt’s shoulder. “Evil jerk….”

“No, no, the last thing,” Wyatt clarified quickly, needing to hear a confirmation, needing to know that he hadn’t simply imagined the words. “What was the last thing you said?”

Gary looped an arm around his shoulder and sloppily turned Wyatt’s head to face him. “That I’m hopelessly in love with you.” He leaned in suddenly, kissing him gently. Gary’s lips were soft, unbelievably soft for a boy. It lasted maybe five seconds, too long to be an accident or drunken mistake and too short for Wyatt’s satisfaction. After he pulled away, Gary dropped his head back onto Wyatt’s shoulder, exhaustion catching up him with. “I love you, Wy….”

“I—”

“Nighty-night.”

The words were murmured softly into his sweater before Gary was asleep once more, his gentle snores echoing throughout the expansive house. Wyatt closed his eyes, pressing a hand over his face as Gary’s warmth mixed with his own.

“God Gary,” he groaned. “You’re killing me here.”

#tickle fic #weird science #wyatt donnelly #gary wallace #gary x wyatt #fanfiction #fanfic #tickling #80's movies

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inksmellsnice · 3 years

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Title: The Tour Guide Rating: General Audiences Words: 1577 Pairings: Bumblebee/Blades Summary: With Earth and Cybertron finally safe, Bumblebee officially joins the Rescue Bots Academy as a full-time mentor. Naturally, Blades overthinks everything except how much he may mean to his old friend. External Reading: FFN , AO3 Author’s Notes: @secretsolenoid for @toraokami303 !! So sorry it’s late. ;u; The prompt was Blades helping Bee unwind by taking him somewhere scenic on Griffin Rock. In the end, it ended up being more about how they got to going somewhere scenic than the actual scenic location, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! I also included a reference to one of the other prompts of Optimus relaxing, because I almost did that one instead. Yes, absolutely, Optimus needs a vacation. Let this mech rest.

“…And that’s the plan to get Bumblebee to stay at the Academy full-time when he comes to visit tomorrow!” Blades said with a flourish, gesturing once again to a map of Griffin Rock, pinned haphazardly to the wall of his quarters and absolutely slathered in sticky notes, looking to Cody for a reaction.

Blade’s map included the site of every daring adventure Rescue Team Sigma-17 had gone on (that Bumblebee hadn’t accompanied them for). A variety of other dangerous locations were also noted, and Blades seemed a little too hopeful something bad would happen at one of them during the tour… not that there was any way said tour could really be completed in a day; it had taken the copter-bot all afternoon just to explain it. Cody smiled, concerned but amused. “I thought Bumblebee already agreed to teach full time?”

Blades straightened up and stammered. “W-Well, I mean, technically yes, but I need to show him just how exciting Griffin Rock is so he doesn’t even think of changing his mind!”

Cody leaned forward in his seat on Blades’ berth. “But what happened to all of the things you said you wanted to do with him when you had time? You never got to sing karaoke together, or play video games, or just… take a walk and catch up without some disaster cutting you o-“

“Booooring.” Blades waved his hand dramatically. “I told you I wanted to do those things years ago¸ Cody! You were like… half your height!” He crossed his arms and took a dignified stance. “I’ll have you know you’re not the only one who has matured since then.”

“Uh huh.”

It only took Cody staring his old friend down for a moment for Blades to sink on his pedes. “…And, well… Bumblebee is a war hero now. I mean, he already was, and of course even before that he was my hero, but now he’s saved Earth and Cybertron twice! Which means his tour has to be twice as impressive! I still can’t believe he’s going to be coming here to teach with us when he could be signing autographs or going on late-night talk shows, or… or…”

Blades’ started pacing. Once again, Cody knew, Blades was overthinking things, but saying that would just make him overthink more. He frowned and tried to choose his words carefully. “It just doesn’t seem like you included much time to be yourself and spend time with your friend.”

(And obvious crush, Cody thought, but he wasn’t going to open that can of worms when Blades already looked like a single additional atom of anxiety could make him shatter like glass. Now was not the time to meddle.)

“Whaaaaat, of course I did! I’ll be giving him the tour and being my whole, extremely cool and heroic self the entire time!” Blades looked at the map again, perplexed. “Was something in my pitch not clear? Do I need to go over it again?”

“N-No!” Cody shot up from his seat with placating hands. “No, I got it the first time, buddy, and I just remembered I have… a thing. In a place. Somewhere el-”

Cody was saved from thinking up an elaborate excuse by a knock at the door.

“Blades? You in there?”

It was Bumblebee.

Blades squeaked and looked at the wall clock. 6:30! Bumblebee arrived half an hour ago and he wasn’t there to welcome him! The medic scrambled to the door of his room, Cody all but forgotten, smashing the button to slide open the door. “B-Bumblebee! You’re here!”

“Is everything okay? Figured you’d be outside when I-”

“When you got here! Right! I meant to be and then I just…” Blades put his hands on his helm in a panic. “I am so sorry, I-!”

Bumblebee stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Blades, cutting his flailing friend off and chuckling. “Easy, pal. I was just worried is all.”

“…Oh,” Blades responded meekly. Bumblebee pat him on the back and Blades sunk into the reunion hug, returning the embrace with a tight, long squeeze before backing away. “Yeah, I was…uh…” He rubbed the back of his helm sheepishly.

Cody smirked. “Blades was just telling me about the elaborate tour he was going to take you on, all over Griffin Rock, just the two of you.”

(Okay, maybe now was the time to meddle just a little bit.)

Blades’ fans clicked on and he glanced at Cody with equal parts betrayal and flusterment before turning his attention to the map that had looked brilliant up until the moment Bumblebee entered the room and now looked like the rambling mess of a crazed fanbot. But Bumblebee had seen it, no turning back now. “Right! Exactly!” Blades scrambled over to the map and gestured to it. “There’s so many places I wanted to show you and so many stories I haven’t told you yet! I figured tonight you’d get settled in, and then tomorrow we could start at Old Canyon Road. One time, Jerry was transporting a truck full of chattering teeth and uranium, and…”

Bumblebee stared at the map with a flat expression and drooped optics.

“…You don’t look excited.” Blades frowned.

“Oh, uh, it looks awesome Blades,” he said with a forced smile, “and we should totally go check all of these things out, but…” Bumblebee chose his words carefully – Blades had clearly put a lot of effort into this, no matter how casual he tried to act about it now. As it was, he felt bad for not putting on a face for his friends’ sake sooner. “Was the plan to do all of this in one day?”

“…Too much?”

Bumblebee smiled, amused, much like Cody had before. “Maybe a little.” The helicopter sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Hey,” Bumblebee put a hand on Blades’ shoulder. “I’m not shooting it down or anything, but what’s the rush? I’m here full time now, remember?”

“I know, but…” Blades looked away from Bumblebee, to Cody, who coaxed him to keep going. “Bumblebee, you’ve gone on so many amazing adventures and saves worlds and I’ve just… I can fit nearly everything I’ve done on this map. I just thought if I didn’t show you how exciting life with us can be right away, you might change your mind and go find something cooler to do.”

Bumblebee stared at Blades for a moment. He always knew Blades looked up to him, but how long had he been feeling this down on himself? “Blades,” Bumblebee closed the distance between them, smiling softly. “I didn’t agree to teach at the Academy because I thought every day would be some big adventure. Heck, if I’m honest, I’m kind of glad that I can finally relax a little, you know? Even Optimus has been taking it a little easier.”

Blades blinked at the idea of Optimus relaxing, momentarily distracted by the strange mental image of the idolized titan chilling out with a data pad in an oil bath with a cup of high-grade. In a less serious discussion, he wouldn’t have been able to keep a straight face, but they could talk about that later.

“None of us wanted to be fighting a war forever,” Bumblebee continued. “Besides, Griffin Rock is a nice place and all, but I didn’t come here for the island…”

Bumblebee took Blades’ hand in his with a gentle squeeze, and Blades’ optics instantly locked onto his incredibly soft ones.

“…I came here to spend more time with the people I care about.”

Blades almost fainted right then and there, because when did the bot he admired more than anybody else come to care so strongly about him in return? “O-Oh… In that case… maybe tomorrow we could take a walk and catch up…?” Blades stared at their hands for a moment, and found himself emboldened to interlace their fingers, but once he had he didn’t have the nerve to look up at Bumblebee’s reaction.

(Cody smiled and quietly made his exit while the two bots were focused on each other. Now was definitely the time to meddle.)

But, after a moment that felt like an eternity, Bumblebee bent down into Blades’ field of vision, smiling.

“Why not now? You can’t tell me you don’t know a great place to watch the sunset around here. Then after, maybe we could finally get around to that karaoke session you always talk about?”

And with the way Bumblebee looked at him, the way he said that – his hushed voice and piercing optics - it almost sounded they were discussing a date.

Or maybe Blades’ imagination was getting away from him. Either way, he knew his answer.

“That sounds perfect.”

#bumbleblades #maccadam #rescue bots #rescue bots academy #tfrb #transformers #tfrba #secret solenoid #secret solenoid 2021 #beeblades #aligned continuity #one shot #bumblebee #blades #cody burns

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what-the-fic-khr · 4 years

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is this really an Among Us AU?? fucking maybe

character/s: gokudera hayato and sawada tsunayoshi (lambo, sasagawa ryohei and yamamoto takeshi make an appearance in the bonus bit)

word count: 1,214 (main: 923, bonus: 291)

warnings: death, blood, weapons, violence, mentions of a possibly deformed human ish, yeah. bonus part is not any of that and points out that it was just a game lol

prompt: Tsuna was so, so nice. He was their kind captain. (it’s an Among Us AU y’all I’m so sorry lol)

“Stupid fucking wires, stupid fucking suit...”

Hayato let out a soft grumble, eyes narrowing when he felt wires slip out of his hands again.

“God, I can’t see fucking shit...! Fucking...”

Wearing a suit for his safety on the ship was naturally understandable; anything could happen and if he didn’t have it on he’d be in danger. But, that meant he couldn’t wear his glasses and he couldn’t see through the thick glass shielding his eyes on his helmet.

It was bullshit.

“Fuck this!”

It meant things like connecting messed up wires became ten times harder than it had to be, and he was tempted to remove the dumb helmet and gloves just so he could do it properly. The ugly colours didn’t help him at all.

His scowl deepened when he heard a soft meow, but he didn’t bother looking down at his feet knowing well his helmet gave him limited vision. Uri could rub against his legs impatiently as much as she wished, but it didn’t get the job done any faster.

“Oh, Gokudera-kun!”

He jumped a little at the sound of a voice, but relaxed when he recognised it as Tsuna’s.

“Are you doing the wires?”

He nodded once, eyes narrowing as he strained to see the colour. It had to be blue. They were definitely blue.

Tsuna shuffled around behind him quietly, blinking his big brown eyes slowly. He wasn’t really fond of the wires, either.

“Do you need help?”

Hayato huffed loudly, and Tsuna couldn’t help his small laugh at his frustration.

“I’m fine, Tenth... It’s just being difficult.”

They’re wires, Gokudera-kun, Tsuna thought in amusement. He wouldn’t bother upsetting him further, though.

He took a step closer, humming when he heard the pattering feet of Natsu running in after him.

He watched Hayato continue to struggle, wondering if he should even talk. He was trying to focus, after all.

“You shouldn’t do tasks alone, you know,” he spoke up softly.

The imposter hadn’t escaped Hayato’s mind; not for a second. He would’ve heard anyone else walking up behind him. However, Tsuna has been surprisingly light on his feet.

Huh.

“Don’t worry, Tenth. I’d be fine if the bastard showed his face to me, anyway.”

His gaze shot to the side for a moment when he heard Natsu and Uri run off, his sight catching up a second after. They were always running around; they were awful at staying still.

At least Roll stayed still.

“Ehh, but still... They’re an imposter for a reason, aren’t they?” Tsuna asked. “They could be anywhere. It’s awful. Hah, it gets me nervous doing anything...”

“Oh, if you’re worried, you can stay with me!” He waved his momentarily free hand before carefully picking up the last wire. “Then we can move on to the next task together.”

Tsuna smiled widely at this, shoulders slumping in relief. “That’s good! Being alone is kind of scary, so I wouldn’t want you to be on your own, either.”

Tsuna was so kind. Hayato smiled a little at this, nodding in agreement. He was always so wonderful to everyone; he’d become the captain of the crew for a reason. He was so warm, and welcoming. He was lovely, with such a soft heart—

Cold. Cold.

Olive eyes widened for a moment before his gaze started to blur, a harsh breath tearing from his lungs.

“Hah...?”

His gaze moved around frantically, and he shifted his foot when the item in his back was removed– it was so cold, so sharp, sharp, sharp.

His voice was muffled by blood when he hit the wall of the ship, feeling the blade get shoved in harder the second time, the third, fourth, fifth.

It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, so bad.

He slid down the wall with a croaky gasp for air, and vaguely felt hands lower him onto his back and then remove his helmet.

Olive met chestnut, although it was all so blurry.

“T... Tenth...?”

Tsuna blinked slowly, so very slowly as he watched Hayato’s expression blank.

“Sorry, Gokudera-kun,” the brunet murmured softly. He spun his knife around before wiping the blood off of steel and onto a red uniform.

“W-Why?”

“Ah? I just... really don’t want to be a captain, you know?”

Tsuna cracked a grin so wide that it could’ve split his face in half, and with teeth so sharp that they could crush bone if he tried.

“I also don’t really feel like playing with humans, either.”

His eyes had shut when he grinned, and Hayato wished he had never reopened them, watching slitted amber stare down at him.

“For what it’s worth, Gokudera-kun, you were a pretty good friend while it lasted,” Tsuna cooed, petting his head gently with his clean hand.

Hayato couldn’t make out much at this point, but he did see the glint of silver lifting above him.

“Please... Don’t...”

He was so kind. He was meant to be so, so kind. Had he been the one who had killed the others? In cold blood, while shedding fake tears at the meeting table?

They were fake. Why?

It hurt.

Tsuna’s tongue pressed against his cheek to stop himself from laughing, a sharp point hidden by pearly white.

“Sorry.”

Hayato felt steel for barely a second in his chest before a searing pain burst up into his throat, trying to come out in a cry but only croaks and gasps took its place. He couldn’t breathe. It was cold. What was cold?

He couldn’t feel anything, he couldn’t see anything.

It hurt.

———

“H... Huh?”

Hayato stared at his computer screen blankly for a few moments, taking in his little character, sliced in half, dead on the floor and a pet mulling about.

What the hell?

‘Defeated’.

Oh. He’d been the deciding kill.

Suddenly he could hear everyone over his headset, and his eyes narrowed. It was just everyone yelling about the imposter.

“Tenth, it was you?!”

Light laughter echoed into his ears, and he slumped back into his chair as they all returned to the waiting room.

“Sorry, Gokudera-kun!”

“I didn’t suspect you for a second! Are you serious?!”

Tsuna had played the imposter -they’d decided on one so the newbies could get a grasp of the game at first- and he’d played them all like fools.

“You’re so good at this, Tsuna!” Takeshi chimed. “I believed every lie you told us!”

“Ehh, I don’t feel good about lying, but...” Tsuna would get yelled at by Lambo, of whom was watching, if he messed up while the imposter. Lambo was pretty picky about games.

Hayato was quiet, listening to the others praising his apparent skill at the game that Lambo had taught him about. He tapped a knuckle against his thigh, pursing his lips.

Tsuna was a very, very good liar.

God, he was so glad Tsuna was actually a good person, and they were on the same side. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if they weren’t.

“Oh, Lambo wants two imposters...?” Tsuna spoke up. “Is that okay? He’s on my phone so he can join.”

Ryohei snorted lowly. “Sure! It’ll be way better with teams!”

“Feh, as long as we aren’t imposters together,” Hayato grumbled. “Anything is fine, Tenth!”

“Ah, okay! Let’s play, then!”

Tsuna was very, very good at lying.

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