#this is all to say. when my nerves start going i get really panicky really easy. because my brain always goes What If It Happens Again
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More Hearts Than Mine Part 7
In which you meet Jake’s family and things turn out even worse than you imagined.
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Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x afab!reader
Word Count: 3.9k
TW: swearing, violence, brief mention of blood, toxic family, angst, I believe that's it
A/N: Did this turn out how I was expecting? No. Am I mad at it? Also no. You guys are going to go feral over this. Also this was supposed to be Christmas but this is a Christmas fix the way Die Hard is a Christmas movie lmao just based in that time frame but not actually about Christmas
It's the week before Christmas and you're sitting in Jake's truck anxiously bouncing your knee. The two of you are only about ten minutes out from his parent's house now, and the nerves are starting to get to you. It's not that you're afraid his family won't like you. Based on what you've heard, their opinion doesn't matter much to you. You're already not a fan of them.
You're more-so afraid that you're not going to be able to bite your tongue. From what little Jake has told you, they don't seem like the type of people you exactly get along with, and keeping your thoughts to yourself has never been your strong suit. Especially when it comes to protecting the ones you love. And you love Jake a whole hell of a lot.
The two of you are staying at a nice hotel about thirty minutes away and that speaks volumes in and of itself. You can't wrap your head around his parents not wanting their child to stay at home for the holidays. Then again, from how Jake talks, it doesn't seem like much of a home to begin with.
You look over and almost don't recognize the man sitting next to you. He looks small and scared, a shell of his usual cocky and bright self. Your eyebrows furrow deeper the closer you get to your destination as you notice him get more and more panicky. He looks pale and clammy, and he's gnawing on his lips so hard you're sure they'll start bleeding soon.
Your hand reaches out for his and you lace your fingers together, squeezing gently. "Whatever happens, just know I'm right here. I can't promise not to start shit if they get out of line, but I'll try to be on my best behavior." You half-joke with a smile.
Jake doesn't respond, his breathing only quickens as you turn onto what you assume is the street he grew up on. You don't say anything else, giving him space to cope how he needs to. That's one thing he loves about you. You never push him, always allowing him to process and come to you when he's ready.
He pulls through a gate that says "Seresin" onto a private road surrounded by acres of land and your eyes widen. There are horses to your left and the driveway looks to be about a mile long. You pass a few more horses and stables, completely taken aback. It's absolutely beautiful, and you almost gasp when the home comes into view.
The house is huge, and you think it looks like something out of a magazine. The driveway turns into a roundabout and Jake parks the truck in front of the large French doors. You knew Jake came from money to a certain extent, but you weren't expecting this. This is old money, the type that's passed down from generation to generation and you're shocked Jake never mentioned it.
He's the only son and you silently wonder if he was ever meant to inherit all of this, or if it was decided long ago that he wasn't worthy. The idea makes your heart ache. Your thoughts are interrupted when Jake comes around and opens the door for you. A man comes out of nowhere and nods to Jake before climbing into the truck and driving off.
Your forehead wrinkles and you look at Jake for an explanation. "Ranch hand. He's going to park it in the garage. Mom doesn't like cars in the driveway." This only furthers your confusion and your eyebrows shoot up. "Your parents have a valet?"
Jake looks genuinely surprised for a second before his features settle back down. "Huh, never really thought of it that way, but yea. I guess they do." You shake your head in disbelief and grab his hand. He looks over at you and gives you a kiss before leading you to the front door.
He knocks three times and you can already tell he was serious when he said his family is nothing like yours. You've never once had to knock at your parent's house. Usually, your mom was waiting for you at the top of the porch but if she wasn't, you had always just walked right in.
It takes a couple minutes for you to hear the lock click and the door opens to reveal a woman that looks to be a couple years older than Jake. You smile at her and she ignores you, instead turning around and walking back inside. "Jacob's here." She yells, already halfway up the stairs.
You frown and look at Jake but he doesn't say anything, only squeezing your hand three times. I love you. It was your guys' way of communicating when you were unable to talk, but you can’t fathom why he won’t just say it out loud. Nonetheless, you squeeze back and he brings you further into the entryway before closing the door behind him.
Once you're fully inside, you look around completely awestruck. As big as it looks from the outside, somehow the inside is even bigger. There are high vault ceilings with antler chandeliers and a large staircase leading up to a second floor that overlooks the space.
It looks exactly how you would imagine a house on a ranch to. Your attention is pulled back when you hear a man's voice. "Nice of you to finally come home." Your eyebrows furrow and you turn to where the sound came from.
Your eyes land on an older man that shares the same handsome features as Jake. You realize it must be his father and quickly replace your confused expression with a smile. He glances at you but doesn't say anything before looking back at Jake.
You've only been here three minutes and you're already starting to get pissed off. There's no warmth to the man and you silently question how he could be related to Jake at all. They share the same eyes, but his aren't sweet like Jake's. Sure Jake can be an asshole and have a closed-off personality at times, but once he trusts you he's the kindest person you'll ever meet.
You look over at your boyfriend and notice his posture has completely changed. His face is emotionless and his shoulders are back, if he wasn't holding your hand you're pretty sure he'd be standing at parade rest. He doesn't even look like your sweet and caring Jake anymore, he resembles the irritating Hangman that you first met at the bar.
"Nice to finally be home, sir." Sir? You glance between the two men, trying to figure out what the hell this dynamic is. The pieces are starting to come together and you understand why Jake is the way he is. If this is the man who raised him, it's no surprise he's competitive and hides behind a dickish facade.
You get the vibe that Jake was never able to please the man, no matter what he did. You glance at Jake and feel like you're watching a little kid waiting to be yelled at. You feel a protective instinct wash over you and step forward, moving your body to partially block the blonde pilot.
Your voice is strong and unwavering as you introduce yourself. "I'm Y/N, Jake's girlfriend." You don't add that it's nice to meet him the way you normally would because so far, it's been anything but pleasant. His father turns to look at you and gives you a once-over before speaking to Jake.
"She's quite bold, Jacob. Don't know how you landed yourself a live one like that." His voice is cruel and mocking and you feel your face grow hot. You don't like the way he refers to you and you're not sure what about you introducing yourself makes you bold.
You're starting to think the women around here are used to being seen and not heard. It seems as if there's a 'don't speak unless spoken to' rule in place and you're itching to test the waters.
You can see Jake mulling over a response, but he doesn't get the chance to answer. "You can speak to me directly." You try your best to hide your attitude, but there's still some venom in your tone.
His father's gaze turns to you and you can immediately tell he's not used to being confronted. You know his type, you meet them in the Navy all the time. Men who demand respect instead of earning it and get off on holding power over you.
You see Jake's eyes widen slightly in your peripheral but you maintain eye contact with his father, daring him to say something. It's obvious that he's used to people submitting to him, especially women. You're not sure what type of woman he was expecting Jake to bring home, but you're guessing he wasn't anticipating meeting his match in the first two minutes.
You're all too familiar with men trying to intimidate you. Being a female pilot doesn't come easy and if this asshole thinks he can unnerve you, he should meet the 200 men that tried and failed before him. You see the corner of his mouth quirk slightly and you're not sure if he's amused by your fearlessness or taking it as a challenge.
You stare each other down in silence, waiting to see who establishes dominance. At this point, you don't care if your eyeballs shrivel up into raisins, there's no way in hell you're letting this man think he's won. You smirk slightly when he breaks contact first, looking back to your boyfriend. You can practically hear Jake's heart pounding and you move a couple steps backward so you're touching him.
"This is my father, Jacob Sr. He prefers to be addressed as sir." He finally says and your head whips to look at him. "You're not serious." You stare at his face and notice there's no sign of humor. No wonder he hates being called Jacob.
You turn back to his dad and chuckle. "Yea, I'm not doing that. Sir is a title that's earned and so far, I'm not seeing any reason that you deserve to be called that." You watch his dad's face turn red and you almost laugh at how he looks like a petulant child about to throw a tantrum.
Before the situation can escalate any further, a woman comes into the room and walks over to Jake. She gives him a short, polite hug before turning to you. "You must be Jacob's latest. I'm his mother, Catherine." Your eyebrow quirks but you let it slide.
"Y/N. It's nice to meet you, ma'am." You shoot his dad a look as you say it, making sure he hears the formality you just denied him. You give him a shit-eating grin when you see his eye twitch, satisfied that you were able to get under his skin. He already wasn't going to like you, might as well give him a reason.
The woman nods her head curtly before leading you into a living room. It's been less than ten minutes and you've already broken your promise to be on your best behavior. What's that saying? If your parents terrorize you, terrorize them back? Yeah, something like that.
You observe the room and instantly understand why Jake was so taken aback by your house. The environment is stiff and sterile, there are no pictures or signs of a life lived. Everything is meticulous and you feel more puzzle pieces slide into place. It makes sense why Jake is so adamant that everything has a place and can't stand mess.
You remember when Jake was at your apartment early on in your relationship and spilled some food on your carpet. You had laughed it off, insisting that it was fine and accidents happen. He was frantic as he tried to clean it up and apologize. He was genuinely baffled by your calm response but you'd never questioned it.
Now, you understand why he had been so scared. You can imagine it was probably a blood bath if he ever made a mistake and marred the pristine appearance of the house in any way.
You notice that there are no decorations or Christmas tree and you can't help but be surprised. Jake told you that they didn't really celebrate, but you didn't fully believe him. You expected there to be at least some sign of the holiday season.
You sit on the couch next to Jake and look across from you. There are two other women on the opposite side of the coffee table that you assume are his sisters. You look them over briefly, noting how they sit up straight with their legs crossed elegantly. They look like perfectly posed dolls. Even Jake is sitting with perfect posture and you stifle a laugh at the formality of it all.
You briefly consider copying them to avoid stirring the pot more, then decide against it. Why pretend to be someone you're not? If they don't accept their own son, you know they won't accept you either. You've never been in the business of trying to get people's approval and you don't plan to start today.
Besides, these people traumatized Jake and it breaks your heart to see him look so fragile and insecure in their presence. Fuck them. You lean back with your legs spread and cross your arms. You see Jake trying to fight back a smile and you know he's not mad at you.
If anything, this just confirmed that you're the one he wants to marry. You take his small gesture as permission to continue. If Jake showed any signs of being upset with you or said anything, you'd backtrack and grovel for forgiveness so fast your head would spin.
His dad comes into the room and gives you a disapproving glare. "Men and women sit on opposite sides." You can tell by his tone that he's not so much suggesting you move, but rather demanding it.
You glance up at him and smile. You see in his eyes that he thinks he's regained control for a split second and your smile only widens.
"No thank you, Jacob. I'm good right here next to my boyfriend." You watch as his face falls and you fight back an evil grin. He sits in an armchair and looks at his son for a moment before facing you.
"I hear you're a pilot like my son. Graduated top of your class?" He asks and for a second you think this evening might be civil.
You nod and smile to yourself. "You heard right." The man hums in acknowledgment and continues. "You also have more confirmed air-to-air kills correct?" Your smile falters and you frown.
"I mean yeah, but I don't see what that matters. There are only two active duty members with air-to-air kills and he's one of them. He's one of four pilots in the last forty years to hold that honor, so I'd say he's doing just fine."
He ignores you and looks to Jake."So you're telling me a woman was able to beat you not once, but twice?"
You sit up and your eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
His father doesn't falter in his answer. "It's just not typically a job for women and you still manage to do better than him. It's disappointing."
You hear his mother's voice through the blood rushing in your ears. "Honey let's not do this tonight." You ignore her comment and decide at that moment that you can say whatever you want because you're pretty sure both you and Jake would be content to never come here again.
"Your son is one of the best pilots in the world and you're disappointed? What exactly have you done?" You ask with pure hatred. He folds his hands and answers with a smug expression. "I'm a distinguished politician and oilman."
You hum and sit back. "So you sit on your ass behind a desk while your son protects your right to do so. How disappointing." Jake stays silent and you want nothing more than the mouthy and quick-witted man you love to make an appearance.
One of his sisters, who haven't even been introduced, diverts the conversation. "So tell me how California is, Jacob."
The next couple of hours goes as smoothly as they can given the circumstances. You and Jake are only staying today and tomorrow, and while you initially thought that it wasn't long enough, you're beginning to wish you hadn't come at all. You don't blame Jake for never coming back here, you can't imagine what this would be like for him to face by himself.
He's quiet most of the evening, only chiming in when he's directly spoken to. You on the other hand speak every chance you get. You make a point to only call his father Jacob when you address him, taking pleasure in the way his jaw ticks each time.
Jake feels himself wind a little tighter every time his dad hurls an underhanded comment your way. He's allowed his father to treat him like shit his entire life, but the idea of him trying to break you in the same way makes Jake feel sick to his stomach. Despite his better judgment, he stays quiet, playing the role of the obedient son he was raised into.
He's lost in his thoughts when he hears your raised voice. "What the fuck did you just say?" He didn't catch what his father said to prompt you to say that, but he hears his response loud and clear. "You heard me you little bitch."
Jake looks up to see that you're both standing face to face with his mother trying to intervene. "He means well. Please, can we all just calm down?" She pleads and you scoff. You lean in towards his dad and your voice is deadly when you spit out your next words.
"I mean this as disrespectfully as possible, you're a piece of shit father and Jake is a better man than you could ever hope to be." Jake watches his dad's body language change as he shifts into an all too familiar stance.
That's all it takes for him to snap. Jake launches out of his seat and pushes you behind him, now standing toe to toe with the man who's put him through hell. "You touch her and I swear to God I will put you in the ground where you belong." You've seen Jake in his fair share of fights, but his voice has never held such malice and conviction.
You suppress a smile when you realize the Jake you know and love has finally found his voice. Shock covers his dad's face momentarily but he quickly recovers with a laugh. "This girl is bad news, Jacob. Look how she has you acting. I don't even recognize you."
Jake's body tenses and he maintains eye contact with his father for the first time in his life. "Good. I don't want to be a man you recognize. You've tainted everything good in my life, and I won't allow you to ruin this too. I'm going to be the best goddamn husband and father and it'll be no thanks to you."
His father chuckles darkly and gets in his face. " So what, you want to hit me, tough guy? If I'm such a terrible father, then do it."
Jakes just shakes his head and backs up. "Nah, you're not worth it." He glances over his shoulder and meets your eyes. "Y/N, get you're stuff. We're leaving."
You nod your head and immediately turn to gather your belongings. "Don't have to tell me twice." You mumble and Jake smiles. He takes your hand and the two of you head toward the front door.
You only get a few feet away when his dad starts taunting him. "Fucking pussy, just like I've always said. You don't have the balls to hit me."
Before Jake can even respond, you whip around and put your body weight into your swing. Your fist collides into his nose with a sickening crack and he falls to the ground.
Catherine screams as blood starts pouring down her husband's face and you stand over him. "I do." You say simply before turning on your heel and returning your hand to Jakes. You falter for a split second and look back at the man. "Oh, and his name is Jake. He fucking hates Jacob."
You start walking and shake out your throbbing hand. "God I've been wanting to do that all night. Someone should've rocked his shit a long time ago." You say and Jake has to fight the urge to propose right then and there. The two of you ignore the wails of the women behind you and continue outside.
His truck is already in the driveway with the ranch hand from earlier standing next to it. "Pulled it around when I heard yelling." He explains while handing Jake the keys. He turns to you and gestures his head toward the house. "Did you just hit his old man?"
You look to Jake for help and hesitate. "Yes, sir." You answer honestly and the man breaks out into a wide smile. "Well hot damn! I've been waiting for someone to do that for years and it only took you three hours with the son of a bitch!"
You laugh at his reaction and he turns to Jake while pointing at you. "Marry that one, Jake." He shakes his head as he walks off and Jake laughs while opening the door for you.
He helps you climb in and rounds the front of the truck to the driver's side. The ride back to the hotel is silent and all you can think about is what you did. Was Jake going to be mad at you? What if he leaves you?
Your thoughts are interrupted when Jake opens your door and leads you inside. Neither of you says a word until you're in the hotel room. You break the silence first. "So I guess we're not going back tomorrow?"
Jake looks over at you with no emotion for several seconds before he bursts into laughter. Not a giggle, but side clenching, belly aching, doubled-over laughter. You watch him carefully trying to figure out of you just broke him.
He calms down after a second and tackles you onto the bed. "I love you so much darlin'." You smile sheepishly and Jake leans down to kiss you.
"You're not mad at me? I punched your father for fucks sake." You frown. Jake looks at you completely bewildered and kisses your cheeks.
"Mad? I've never felt this free. You just did what I've wanted to for years without a moment's hesitation. If anything, I love you even more than I thought possible."
You finally relax and let out a giggle. "It was pretty badass wasn't it?"
Jake rolls off of you and plops onto the bed. "Badass and hot. I knew you loved me but I didn't think you would hit someone over me." He admits and your eyebrows pinch together.
You reach over and cup his jaw, turning his head to face you. "I would do anything for you. You deserve to be protected too."
Jake's eyes soften and he brings your bruised hand up to his lips. "Just for that, we're ordering room service. Whatever you want." You smile and kiss him softly. "I love you." He presses your foreheads together and ghosts his lips over yours. "I love you too."
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#more hearts than mine#Jake seresin#Jake seresin imagine#jake seresin top gun#Jake seresin angst#Jake seresin x reader#hangman#hangman angst#hangman imagine#hangman top gun#hangman x reader#Jake seresin series#Jake seresin wip#hangman series#hangman wip
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Heyy could u write for gib❤️
How he'd React When You're on Your Period | Aneson Gib
Uhm ofc I can write smth for bae??? Req from the lovely @awhoreforhim , feel free to request more HC's or other oneshots from me!
Quick photo check:
Cutie. Alright, enjoy the rest of the story anyways:
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-I think you'd be quite nervous sort of saying and admitting it at first because you wouldn't know how he'd take it and whether he'd be helpful or kinda mean about it... He'd keep pushing and asking "What's wrong", laughing every time you came close to saying it before backing out and turning your back to him to hide your embarrassed laughter. As soon as you admitted it, all he'd say is "Oh." and laugh about the fact you found that so hard to say.
-Wouldn't know really how to help but wouldn't be panicky about it, just sort of suggest everything that came to his mind
-Goes to the fridge, opens it and asks whether you want anything. Like, he'd literally start listing off things in the fridge and checking whether you wanted each individual thing. Carrot? No. Yoghurt pot? No. Seeded bread? No. Olives- I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T WANT ANYTHING-
-Teases you a bit by getting on your nerves- never enough to make you actually annoyed or unhappy, just to mess with you. And he'd easily laugh away any hard feelings afterwards. "I bet cuz I'm a boxer I could firm period cramps better than ninety percent of women," He'd brag, and you knew fully well he was just messing with you, but feel obligated to roll your eyes either way.
-Man never cooks but when you're on your period he always tries to cook your own food instead of ordering it on Uber eats. He read somewhere that greasy fast-food makes cramps worse and so he always tries to make things at home when your on your period so you aren't eating any preservatives or other fast-food chemicals either
-Bought you a candle smelling of your favourite scent (imma say vanilla teehee) from Amazon to add to your candle collection and try to cheer you up because your on your period. Mf forgot to order on Amazon prime though, and as it came a week later when you weren't on your period, so he just kept it as a little gift for himself.
-Randomly begins shadow boxing your stomach when your sat together watching a movie or doing other menial tasks. Then starts joking about the fact he's so powerful he didn't even need to touch you and you was already bleeding.
-Literally so annoying but you can't genuinely get annoyed at him because you just find yourself laughing whenever he starts pissing you off.
-He bought a bag of literally every period product he could find at Sainsbury's the one time you asked him to get you some products, then demanded a visual explanation of how a tampon worked when you took the box. You had to take a bottle of water and show how it worked by inserting it in there, and he was shocked as he watched the tampon absorb the water and almost triple in size, shaking his head in disbelief. "THAT CANNOT GO INSIDE YOU!" He would declare in sheer disbelief, marching around the flat in horror. Never a dull time with Gibbo.
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#aneson gib#big gib#big gibber#gib#boxing#youtube#youtube boxer#headcannons#fluff#cute#period#request#requested#requests open#youtube boxing#sidemen#beta squad
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Is it too late to have a coming of age experience at 39 after two kids, a husband, and a career in Real estate?
I had the most amazing 40th birthday weekend. I thought I would write all my friends and see if anyone wanted to go to Esalen with me- this is a hot springs in Northern CA that I've been wanting to go to for my whole life! Just a massage is pricey and to go for the whole weekend was over $750 but I thought I would throw it out there. I didn't really care who I saw while there. I just knew I wanted to enjoy it with friends. I didn't have the nerve to go to a spa where everyone swims naked without any friends or family. I had 4 takers. Several good friends committed. We tried to decide which workshop to do. I was thinking to do one on songwriting and bhajans when my friend Tess suggested the creativity workshop. At first I thought that one was so ambivalent...I know about creativity and my own process. I've been doing TM my whole life after all and I know how to tap that place. The truth is I rarely do any creative writing anymore which is what I have my degree in though. I wasn't looking for a revival though, but more than anything a chance to soak in the hot springs next to the crashing pacific waves in good company. Tess suggested this Josh Radnor workshop, "he's the guy in ‘How I met your mother!’"
"Oh," I said. Yes I remembered him...I actually didn't know which character at first but my favorite was Ted Mosby and was delighted that is actually Josh Radnor. She also said that David Newman was teaching it with him and was famous in LA for his amazing yoga studio. It sounded like this was the course to do! So I called up Esalen and managed to switch workshops and got two of my friends to switch with me. Tess had known of Josh also because he'd been on ER and her husband was a writer/director of the show. Unfortunately she didn't end up coming on that special weekend because her hubby had a intensive writing weekend planned and she needed to be in back up support with the kids but I'm forever grateful she intervened and tipped us off on where to go!
I worked until the minute I left practically- emailing and tying up loose ends on a real estate deal. I was concerned my client would miss me for two days being off the grid and not reachable by phone. I assured her it was actually only one day that I would be totally gone since Friday and Sunday I would be travelling and could be reached. I could tell she was a little panicky about it but luckily her daughter had the same birthday as me and she had also planned to go and visit her in Portland. I felt a little foolish going to this workshop without knowing too much about Josh Radnor other than his role in HIMYM so I did a little homework late at night before I left and read some reviews and interviews with him about his movies. I decided to download the first one he did- ‘Happythankyoumoreplease.’
The trip to Esalen was loooong! I thought I would fly- only an hours flight- and get there early with time to relax and enjoy the facilities. I was expected to arrive at noon and my friends were going to pick me up. We'd have lunch somewhere glorious along the ocean enroute. I was so excited! I left my house at 9:30am but my flight was postponed and postponed. I called another friend to pick me up who was also driving down from the bay area and let the other two go ahead and have lunch etc. Danielle somehow got lost en-route though and then stopped somewhere for directions and left her handbag, so had to go back, and finally got to me around 4pm. No worries, I sat in the airport watching the rest of Josh's first movie, ‘Happythankyoumoreplease.' I had started it on the airplane and I was savoring all of it. He wrote, directed and acted in it. It felt like a first movie yet it was so sweet and I was excited to see Malin Ackerman in it as well. I just knew when she said this line about how an Indian taxi driver told her if she got something she liked in life to just say, "more please," that there was a spiritual message and I was in for a treat but still no idea how special Josh Radnor would be.
Danielle arrived when I had 20 minutes left and I kept pausing to tie up loose ends up on my Real Estate deal back home too. Last conversations with my transaction coordinator, my client and broker before I checked out for two days. I was so excited and didn't want to be chatting or negotiating on one of my favorite coastal drives down to Big Sur with a dear old friend that I hadn't seen in several years. No, we had fabulous talks about sex and caught totally up. My magical girls' weekend had begun and the smells of eucalyptus trees and ocean was intoxicating. We couldn't resist stopping at Nepentheon- one of the great restaurants of Big Sur- even though we were only a half hour away and had paid for a wonderful dinner at Esalen. The sun was setting the view was spectacular! We indulged in some tapas and a glass of wine, I got the last of my messages before my phone died and we were on our way out of reception.
We arrived into a pitch dark place. The guard keepers of Esalen said they couldn't tell us where our other friends were staying- some strange policy and that we'd have to leave a note on the bulletin for them. So we thought we'd quickly check in and get to our workshops. We were given flashlights and navigated halfway across the resort to our different classes. Danielle was trying out some metaphysical mind over matter one but later switched to my course on sat after I told her how great it was. I showed up late and felt a bit battered from my long and harrowing day. I wished I was fresher for this first meeting but was too excited to lose any more time. Our meeting was in a yurt next to the ocean and we all introduced ourselves that night. I didn't say where I was from but David and Josh seemed interested that I did TM and they both had learned too but seemed to be onto other things. I mentioned what a great tool it had been for me and they agreed while others in the group expressed their curiosity. That first night was intimate- with only 20 or 30 people in the yurt. I didn't know where my other friends were but I enjoyed sitting there alone... I told the group that we were there celebrating my BIG birthday. For me this was so special. It was such a treat to be there whereas I felt like many of the people who were there had no idea how special Josh was and were even further behind than I was in watching his shows! Many didn't even know about HIMYM! They were just simple folks, many once hippies, coming to enjoy Esalen. Although one woman was an editor from San Francisco with a big publisher and had read his biography! Oh, how I would love to get my hands on that book! She said it was really good and Josh shared his reasons for not publishing it. He said he did things that he'd rather not go public on- he takes his role as a leader and role-model very seriously and doesn't drink, swear or go to strip clubs and is super into his shakti and spiritual path.
We did some chanting and bhajans after the introduction and my heart felt open as I set there on my cushion with no backrest rocking to the music, my spine unwinding and kept accidentally catching Josh's eye. It was a magical evening!
When I got back to my room Danielle said her meeting was OK and that she'd switch to my class because I was very floored and excited about the weekend ahead even though I hadn't planned to do too much of the workshop in my pursuit of hot water. As we were talking Hollie and Mona popped up! It turned out they were in the room next to ours! This seemed like such a gift since the stern Esalen Heralds had not been willing to share their location. We laughed and talked all giddy to see each other but they were tired and had been enjoying the grounds for hours- they'd had their massages, soaked, a divine vegetarian dinner and walked the grounds. I was a little jealous but didn't want to miss out on lost time so Danielle and I headed to the pools and decided sleep was not the priority. We soaked until about 11;30 in the waxing moonlight. We tried the silent Roman pools and enjoyed the meditative atmosphere but Danielle wanted to chat so we went to the other pools. Each pool was so completely glorius. We moved to these pools outside but under the verandas that were open to the crashing waves below. I'd never been in such a beautiful spring in my life and my heart was soaring with the experience. I felt so completely blessed. I couldn't stop smiling. This was the best present I'd ever received and I was savoring every moment of it- I couldn't believe that 3 dear friends were willing to share this with me too! Danielle and I had lovely talks and had a lot of privacy with only a few others there. We tried several different pools and finally were too tired to soak more so showered and headed up the dark paths home. The hills and stairs were a work out and we arrived to our room out of breath and exhausted but in a fantastically good delicious way. I knew my itunes movie was going to expire and I hadn't finished it but I was too tired, and only had about 20 minutes left, so just hoped I'd find time the next day.
Saturday we had a plan to meet HOllie and Mona for breakfast. We had a lovely meal in a corner and I had to sample every food they had so took tiny portions- all was glorious and different for me- I had miso soup- which I've never had for breakfast with kim chi. Mona said the granola was unreal so I had a smidgeon of that with yogurt. They had stewed prunes- which I thought was genius since hot springs for some odd reason are constipating. We enjoyed a couple of cups of coffee and tea and every turn I took around the dining room, Josh seemed to appear next to me in his hoodie with bed head- which is his signature look. God, it was unsettling. I tried to smile and be casual but he has a grumpy morning face. I must have almost bumped into him about 10 times! I couldn't believe it and wanted to yak about the crazy experience with my girlfriends but the lunchroom felt too small for such indulgences. They didn't even know who he was or had seen his shows so they weren't very excited in the same way. Although they appreciated how cute he was! This seemed to be my magical universe.
Mona said I must get a massage- that they were glorious and I owed it to myself to get one for my bday. Her and HOllie were getting theirs for the second day in a row! Danielle and I headed into the reception to make our reservation and guess who was beside me also requesting something? Josh. God I had butterflies. I get funny around celebrities and very excited so this was all just a bit too much! I wished I had someone who could relate. The most my girls could offer was that he was cute.
Mona was super excited to see my message on the board and instagrammed it to Facebook.
Then we all walked joyously up the path to class. It was like a dream...gorgeous flowers blooming everywhere...my friends looked so beautiful and I just wanted to hang out and take photos but was also very excited about our workshop which we were rapidly late for. Esalen is like a '60's commune though- it radiates love and peace and it's hard to believe this magical place still exists in this day and age! We wound our way up to our class and it was sparkling in the day light. I had gotten lost winding up there the night before passing houses and walking through forests but in the light of day I could see the school garden, the school bus converted into a class and granted myself a few pictures of the girls. One of Hollie under an arch of metal she wanted to recreate in her garden. I felt proud to have my friends in class with me that morning. We all sat in the back row and they didn't get the proper introduction but I did whisper that Hollie was a Scorpio since we'd all shared our signs the night before.
Holl's and Mona don't have the best backs so even though they got back jacks their backs were suffering by the end of the lesson. I felt like this yoga energy was coursing through me and I didn't mind not having the support. I was really getting into the Bhajans. I felt like my heart was opening wide and those silly feelings of catching Josh looking at me, like a girl in school- like my sparkle must be on and my inner light shining out. Hollie, Mona and I were giddy that day laughing and giggling catching each others eyes just thrilled to be on our retreat! After class as we were walking out I mentioned to Josh that I'd love to see Liberal Arts and asked if we were going to watch any of his movies. He said maybe. That afternoon I arrived a bit late after my gorgeous massage- this was one of the best massages I'd ever had- I lay naked with one wall open to the pacific, the warm air and sunlight glowing in and felt the feathery hands of a woman perform some Asian combination massage indigenous to Esalen. I could see why HOllie and Mona had to get one of these two days in a row and felt like this massage I almost stingily didn't get might have been one of the best I'd ever had. She cocooned me afterwards in towels and I could've slept there all afternoon but only allowed myself a few minutes because I didn't want to miss a moment of Esalen. I was hoping to soak with Hollie and Mona after but they were just heading into their massages. As I was walking out of the roman bath I saw Fillipo Francini in the dressing room- he's an Italian composer that is a client of mine. I said hi, but he looked so inward and puzzled with his towel draped over his privates, like a man from roman times- I thought maybe it's not the best time to be social so let it go.
I was late for lunch and Danielle had already finished so I took my food to this nook under a tree at the bluffs edge. It was such a perfect place to journal. I felt so awake. I could've written for hours but there was little time to take in so much. So then I dipped in the cold swimming pool in the verdant green bluff and appreciated the paradise.
As I was walking to class I saw HOllie & Mona- they said they weren't going since they were late to class and wanted to hike and enjoy the sunset etc. so I went ahead. Danielle was sitting by the door but I thought I would sit where I had been and Josh was sitting in the seat next to mine so I just went with it and enjoyed his company as we sang Bhajans.
At the break Danielle told me the good news that we were going to play a movie that night. Josh put on some scenes from his movies HTMP and it was so cool to have him share his favorite scenes- one of them I hadn't seen yet and it was so fantastic the way this man who wasn't attractive in the beginning of the movie suddenly became gorgeous as the light of love dawned in the leading ladies heart. He really captured this well in the movie and this was a feeling I'd had before and enjoyed the way he'd painted it. He was so humble sharing all these scenes with an audience that had no clue how brilliant he was. He didn't seem to mind and I felt like a bit lame that I hadn't even finished his movie before the workshop, but was very excited that he'd listened to my cue to show Liberal Arts, and it just felt like my birthday couldn't have been any better. Danielle had a bit of a laugh at me for parking myself at the other end of the room from her near Josh but I just explained that was where I'd been sitting before.
That night when we arrived all the back jacks and pillows were gone. Many people had several under them and there was a fresh batch of popcorn. I didn't mind and sat in the back of the room with Hollie and Mona. We found some blankets and they laid down. I was just in bliss and still feeling this yogic kundalini which somehow kept my spine strong even with no support. Josh put on Liberal Arts and plopped down next to me in the back row (again!!! I couldn't believe my luck!)
I found a couple of small pillows and rolled one over to him. I couldn't believe that Josh; the workshop leader, whom I thought was the guest of honor, was lying on the floor with no support and none of the patrons had offered him some of their comfort.
Hollie thought it was rude no one offered us their pillows either but I didn't care. Her and Mona finally couldn't take it though and left to go soak and I stayed and enjoyed this surreal experience of watching Josh on the screen while laying next to him. This was the most unbelievable thing! Sometimes he'd jump up and stop the movie to share some interesting tidbit about it and I felt like this was one of the most creative things to partake in- I could tell he felt vulnerable sharing his art and was listening for our laughs and peeking at our expressions for feedback. It was such a magical night and it made me realise what was possible for myself as an artist too. He gave me such a great gift by sharing his movie with us that night- it lit a fire of inspiration and creativity that I still feel strongly though I still struggle finding time to express it and do my own work. I'm writing this story now on notepad and my novel is buried in files I still need to wade through on this laptop. Nevermind though.
It was one of the most stimulating and exciting evenings even though it was a quiet and rustic setting off the grid in Big Sur. Danielle felt the same way but I think neither of us could put a finger on it. She also confessed that Josh had been staring at her. I guess he was like Krishna that weekend and probably many of the girls had that experience. The music kept taking my heart to new levels too- David had us singing these gorgeous bhajans and even Josh sang with us- not above it at all and often he referred to David to answer questions about creativity and things even though I think most of the class was more interested in his creative process.
At the end of each evening David would play some bhajans so we'd end on a high note and he’d say he'd see us in the pools as if both he and Josh would be there. That night the pools were busy and Danielle and I squeezed into the one by the oceans edge after trying a few and looking for our place. It was exciting to think that Josh might be in the other pool but it seemed like a lot of men were over there so we stayed away. We did have a run in with David in the co-ed bathroom that was embarrassing- saw a little more than we would've liked! Ha ha!
We got tired again around midnight and decided to head home. The magic of Esalen was more important to me than sleep. Normally I love my rest but on this occasion I just wanted to absorb as much of that atmosphere as I could.
Sunday morning was still high. Danielle finally asked her question about creativity. David and Josh said they work in the morning best after a cup of tea. I longed for the discipline to get back to that place. I used to work daily and my creative process flowed around my routine and energy levels but since my 2nd child it seems to flow around the family with little time left for energetic creating. I felt like I'd lit a flame that I would tender though. And I made a commitment to work on my book and finish it once again. I told Josh about my town in Encintias and he and David were familiar with it. David invited me to his concert at the Kirtan Castle- Phillipo Francini's house- and I laughed and told him about seeing him in the dressing room and that he was my client!
I normally don't go visit because it's also a Tantra center but decided I would go to see them the following month. Danielle took a photo of Josh and I after class and I gave him a small crystal ganesh and a card in case he wanted to show his movie HTMP in Encinitas or Fairfield- He said he wanted to share it in towns of yogis where they get it. I also met with the agent from the famous publishing house and got her name and gave her my card over lunch. We had one last special meal out on the deck. By now, everyone was quite comfortable with Josh and he seemed to have many dates for meals; I no longer felt like we were two lonely ships colliding in the lunch room as frequently but was still very aware of his presence.
I was wishing I could stay. As I went to reception to check out after lunch- I overheard that Josh was staying another day. I asked if there were rooms to stay in; it would've been half price to stay another day without a retreat and I was sorely tempted but my friends were already in the packed car and waiting to get to the airport.
I couldn't stay but I long to do another retreat at Esalen again. I don't know if it will ever be that great- this was a birthday treat of a lifetime. I felt like the Gods were shining down on me. Josh had his shrine set up in that yurt and David was singing mantras- it was a very high weekend. I felt a lot of ecstasy and very excited that my creative spark had been lit. Yet it was time to get home. Back to my clients, my family and my other world. I don't have the luxury of unlimited time delving into those creative windows but that weekend with Josh at Esalen will stay with me and has lit my fire. Now in the evenings, when I have a few minutes, I play music from his play list, I follow his twitter, see the interesting articles he shares or writes, and sometimes it seems like my imagination- did I really become friends with Josh? Or was I just a stranger he obliged with a photo and a few words. It doesn't really matter. He moved me with his presence, stories and movies and I felt like I got a really unique experience on my last weekend being 39. I felt really blessed!
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you're so golden (corpse x reader)
Summary: You're a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?
Author's Note: Don't hate me! This was gonna be a cute chapter but then I decided against that. Credit to @moontwinkles for the spilling scene idea. Let me know what you think!
Masterlist
The sound of your alarm wakes you from your slumber with a suddenness. Bleary-eyed, you roll over to turn it off, letting out a small sigh as your body and brain start to awaken. You’re going to meet Corpse. You’re going to meet Corpse. It bares repeating in your mind; the prospect still not quite registering.
You haven’t had the greatest sleep, your mind racing most of the night; skittish little thoughts that had you tapping your toes on the mattress in agitation as you struggled to turn them off. Sunlight streams through the cracks in your blinds, a warm glow painted in stripes on your wall. It was going to be a good day, tiredness be damned.
You get up, stretching your arms out as wide as possible and relishing in the relief as your muscles unclench themselves. There’s a little spring in your step as you walk to the bathroom, to wash your face and brush your teeth. You aren’t nervous as you pick out your favourite outfit, instead you feel excited. It’s funny how little scraps of fabric and thread can impact your mood so much, but you smile at your reflection, the feeling of confidence is nice, albeit rare.
The rumbling in your stomach signals that you need to eat something before you leave. Nothing too fancy, just some toast and a glass of juice. You can feel the nerves start to grow a little, the food sits heavy on your tongue, forcing you to swallow it. You grab your phone, scrolling as you chew. You go onto Corpse’s twitter, smiling at the picture he’s posted.
Out of curiosity, you go onto his likes. You always find his likes interesting; the random things he’s added gives you more of an insight to his thoughts and feelings. You chew the inside of your cheek as you scroll down past girls with perfect skin and bodies; your previous confidence now feels a little misplaced.
Deciding against letting it ruin your mood, you close the tab and go to grab your bag before locking your door and heading to your car. You text Rae to let her know you’re leaving and she replies almost immediately to wish you luck. Sitting in front of the steering wheel, you exhale as you start the engine and begin to drive. This was really happening. When Corpse had asked to meet, you were shocked. While you had discussed it, you had been under the assumption it would be a while before it happened. You just hope you don’t make an idiot of yourself; a tendency you had when you were nervous.
While you love the city, there’s something about driving on the open road. No noise, just the sound of tires on concrete. The scenery remains the same; nothing but trees and the occasional house far in the horizon. You’re meeting him in Santa Barbara; a place you’ve been to once in your life, so it might as well be brand new. It’s halfway between both of you, and while it’s still a few hours drive, you’ve got good music and some sunshine to keep you happy.
The drive flies in and before you know it, you’ve arrived. You’re meeting at a cafe that sells bubble tea; it was Corpse’s recommendation. It’s a charming little place, with white table and chairs on a cobbled patio area. The building itself is white brick, plant pots decorate the window sills and there’s a small crowd of people waiting in line. You turn off the engine, and grab the perfume out your bag, the smell of peaches invading your nostrils. With one last look at yourself, you exit your car and make your way to the cafe.
You’re not sure how you’ll find him, being faceless and all. A quick scan of the people around you, your eyes zero in on a figure dressed all in black, leaning against a wall that’s slightly in the shade. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you look at him from afar, your feet apparently unable to move on their own accord. He stands out amongst the brightly coloured outfits of everyone else, and you can see the sun glint against the chains on his jeans.
“Hi,” you greet, your hand going up to half-wave at him. He’s handsome; pale skin and cheekbones that disappear under the fabric of his mask. A mop of black curls are atop his head, falling out in different directions, and he brushes one off his forehead as he looks at you.
“Hey,” he replies and you smile a little. There’s a thick fog of awkwardness between you as you both take each other in, though trying not to look so obvious about it. You feel under scrutiny as his eyes move over you, and you meet his gaze before you both look down at the ground, a faint blush on your cheeks.
“How was the drive?,” you ask at the same time he does, causing you both to laugh. “Oh. Uh yeah it was good, thanks, how was yours?”
“Yeah it was good,” he replies, his eyes still on the ground.
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
You scream internally as your eyes dart around, looking for something, anything to break this awkwardness. It shouldn’t be like this, you have such great chemistry on the phone and online, but there’s nothing right now. Is it you? There’s a niggling in your brain that says he was fine until now; until he saw you.
“We could go, uh, into the cafe? Get some food?” he suggests, breaking you from your self deprecating thoughts. You nod and you follow him to the door. He opens it and you dodge out the way as it narrowly escapes hitting you in the face. Corpse mutters an apology as he walks in, his eyes glued to the ground.
You order together; you get yourself a boba tea and a burger and Corpse does the same. He pays without saying anything to you, and while the day’s isn’t going quite as you pictured, the gesture makes your cheeks warm. You desperately hope it gets better. Maybe you’ve misread the situation and the chemistry you felt you had was just friendship on his part. Friends flirt all the time, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.
Your food arrives and you sit in relative silence as you eat. The times you do speak is stilted, full of one word answers and obvious observations. You go to reach for your boba as Corpse goes to grab salt, and the movement of his hand plus the crampedness of the table pushes your own hand back towards you, knocking the cup all over your neck and chest. Corpse shoots up in a speed that shouldn’t be human, his hand full of napkins as he comes towards you. The liquid is cold against your skin, and you look down to see your outfit now ruined, the fabric sticking to you in wet patches.
“I’m such a fucking idiot, I’m so sorry,” Corpse says, his tone panicky as he dabs at your neck. He continues to dab, his hands pressing at the neckline of your top and if this was another time, you’d feel all fluttery at his hands on your skin. But it’s not, you’re uncomfortable and the day has sucked so far and all you want to do is go home. He discards the napkin onto the table and grabs another, his fingers warm against your collarbone as he presses the tissue. He doesn’t realise that he’s travelling downwards to your chest before he presses once, twice, before retracting his hand back like he’s been burned, the napkin falling to the floor. “Uh fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I - “
“It’s fine,” you reassure him. “I’ve always wanted apple scented boobs, guess I can check that off my bucket list.” It’s a failed joke but humour is a defence mechanism for you, even if it’s not very funny. Corpse widens his eyes a little, his gaze fixed on the napkin that’s on the floor.
He hands you some more napkins and you clean up a little more. Your skin feels sticky, and you smell of artificial apple; but the apple isn’t sweet, it’s bitter and slightly unpleasant.
“Uh, I should probably go home and get a shower, I feel like I fell into a vat of sugar,” you say, standing up and grabbing your bag.
“Oh, yeah, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so clumsy,” Corpse replies. You can tell he feels awful, and while you sympathise, he’s not the one that’s just had almost a full cup of boba spilled on him.
You shake your head, “It’s fine, really. I just feel really gross. Don’t worry about it.” You smile in what you hope comes across as reassurance.
“Let me walk you back to your car,” he says. You nod and walk out together in silence; something you had gotten used to throughout the day.
“Have a safe drive back,” you say as you get to your car.
“I will. Let me know when you get home?” he asks, and you nod.
“Shall do. Goodbye Corpse,” you say, opening the door and waving at him through the window. He waves back and you watch him through the rearview mirror as he disappears out of sight. You feel like an idiot for believing this was going to be good, like you ever had a chance with him. You’d been saying it since the start; that it wouldn’t work, you had nothing in common, nothing to talk about. And you were right. Sometimes you hated being right.
You turn the engine on and sit there for a second, your head pressing against the steering wheel. What a waste of time this was. Grabbing your phone, you tweet quickly.
“Oh well, let’s go wallow in self pity,” you whisper before driving off.
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Compulsion
Pairing: Mafia!Dabi X Reader
Warnings: dubconish themes, flirting with Hawks, blood, murder, blackmail, fingering. NSFW, quirkless AU!
Word Count: 4.4k
A/N: Alright! This piece is for The Smut Pile Mafia Collab
I have to give my wholehearted thanks to @hisoknen @some-kindofgnome , @pleasantanathema, and @ever-enthralled for reading this over the last couple weeks, and making sure it reads well! I am so happy to have you beautiful souls! Also a special shoutout to Raph for brainstorming with me when I was stuck at the very end. 💕
Edit: This has fanart! Beautiful @maewoahoah created a Mafia!Hawks piece right here and a Mafia!Dabi piece here! She’s very talented! ;)
On this ominous winter evening it begins snowing.
You readjust your peacoat and step through the frosty glow of the street lamp to your front door. Your muscles ache a little more than usual, your steps a little heavier. It’s been a long and tedious day at work; far less stimulating compared to Toga’s position working for a bootlegger named Tomura. But both jobs pay the rent. You push papers and withhold your scowls towards clients. Now, you want a bath.
The sound of a muffled radio plays on the other side, and it floods your ears as you walk in with warmth and an iron smell wafting your chilled nose.
“Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary...
Seeeee, my baby there;
She's stretched out on a long, white table
She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair.”
Toga’s playing blues again. It’s a routine she has before the graveyard shift across town. At this time, she’s in the kitchen making something before she goes, but you’re having trouble figuring out what food smells like copper.
“He-e-e-y,” you call lazily, a sing-songy tone in your voice.
She doesn’t answer, though you hear the clacking of stiletto heels on wood, which makes you amble down the hall to see what she’s doing.
“Think you can smuggle some whiskey tonight? I thought we had some, but Keigo probably polished it off last—“
You stop in the doorway.
There’s a poor bastard lying flat on his back, head twisting too far towards the sink. Ribbons of blood streak down his colorless skin, pouring out from a dark and glossy hole just beneath his jaw. You see it puddle and stain the edges of his hair a sticky red, the only sound besides your heart thudding is the soft thrums from the parlor.
“ When I die please bury me in my high top Stetson hat
Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain
So the gang'll know I died standing pat.”
You’re in a daze, one where you’re not sure how long you’ve been staring. It doesn’t seem real. Is it real? But it’s not until you hear the sound of heels clicking against the wood floors that you drag your gaze to the noise.
Toga’s standing near the stove, her features vacant, shoulders slouched, and she’s holding a knife that’s still wet.
What the fuck?
You want to scream, berate her, seethe what the fuck was she thinking, or if she was thinking for that matter. But the blonde speaks up before you do, with a voice above a whisper.
“He was going to leave me. Said he was too dangerous.” Toga doesn’t look in your direction, moving to the rim of pooled blood which has stopped spreading out, “I told him I wouldn’t let anyone come between us, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Your jaw goes taut, staring incredulously at her steely face. The lack of emotion gives you a sinking feeling in your stomach.
The man wasn’t a random suit who bled out on your floor, this moron was seeing Toga on and off for months and had been trying to be more present.
Nights spent arriving at your door with flowers and sweets, and driving her to work was becoming a staple in his routine. He preferred staying in Toga’s room if they had the day off, and he always slipped out when the morning frost dusted the grass, a soft bluish hue painting the streets before sunlight.
But that’s not the problem. See, he was a core member inside the Mafia running the northern side of the city, ‘The League’ they like to call themselves. The only men above this guy was his boss Tomura, and the underboss Dabi. You don’t know the former, but you’ve spent time with the latter.
You’re aware of his sadistic nature that flashes behind those teal eyes, and he doesn’t try to hide it, either. The sideway glances during a poker match before he fucked someone over , the smile he wore when you asked about the purple bruises on his knuckles.
So fan-fucking-tastic, the broad has some nerve.
You curl your lip, already shrugging your shoulders from your coat. You toss it over the table and start rolling up your sleeves to the elbows.
Toga finally turns towards you after catching movement by her side, brows raising confused, “What are you doing?”
“You’re gonna grab his feet and we’re gonna move him onto the rug in the hall.”
You step in the blood, grabbing him by the rusty black colored jacket and dragging him from the puddle. Of course it leaves drag marks, your heels making tracks alongside, but you can deal with the clean up later.
Toga hurries over to help, carrying him by the legs and letting you guide the body to the floral rug.
“You don’t want to know what happened?”
You stop. Immediately dropping the dead weight, his blond head lolls off to the side. Your palms sheen with red, but you straighten up and push a beach curl from your cheekbone with the back of your hand.
“Not really. All I want is this fucker out of my house.”
It’s her turn to stare at you incredulously. This is completely out of nowhere for you to be assisting in hiding a dead boyfriend, even if you two are roommates. You’ve only been living together for four months now.
“Toga, I need you to listen, okay?” you say, a bit mockingly, “I can look past the murdering business by pretending you acted in self defense, but if you don’t have the goddamn brains to realize this idiot has friends, then I suggest you don’t stab people!”
Toga flinches slightly at the lilted pitch in your voice, already suggesting panicky, “We can take him to the woods and hide him there?”
“That’ll work.” You don’t think Twice about it.
Working together, you both hoist him a couple feet onto the rug, refusing to look at his face. You didn’t need to be feeling a pang of guilt. It doesn’t take long for you to roll him towards the front door, as the material wraps around his figure.
The hardest part is retreating to the car. The moment you push through the door, you see the distance from where you stand and the car parked a little down the sloping street. You both give a hard look to the powdery snow dusting the ground, quiet and enchanting. It would be beautiful...had you not been carrying a corpse.
“Stop being a little bitch and heave!”
“I can’t! You’re making me hold all the weight!”
“He’s off the ground! How the fuck are you holding all the weight?”
“But my arms hurt!”
“Fucking hell, Toga. What if I had stayed at my sister’s tonight? What then?”
“Stop yelling at me! I get it, alright? I shouldn’t have done it in the house!”
Your bickering toils through the winds, muffled by the falling snow. The burst of cold air is running through your buttoned blouse while crossing to the 1929 Chevrolet causing a shiver to roll down your back. When you reach the car Toga plops the rug down onto the snow first, then you. Your wet fingers feel numb against the metal handle.
There’s one entrance on each side, which likely will make shimming the body to the backseat much harder. You pause, looking at the front in thought.
“I’ll go first,” you say, “when he’s in, you go and grab our coats.”
“Are we burying him?”
“Think the lake’s faster.”
“What if it’s icy? They’ll see the hole if we throw him in.”
You both ponder your options for a little while, this isn’t exactly something you’ve done before...You can’t say the same for Toga, but she seems just as puzzled, almost clueless on how to get rid of her ex.
Meanwhile, the rolled corpse behind you starts to slip downhill, little by little. The slanting street gives speed and the rug starts to roll.. Red droplets trail behind in its wake.
You just happen to see it first.
“Toga—Toga, the body! The body!”
Toga cries out, taking off after the rug as best she can on a frozen sheet. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
The graceful snowfall flutters with pain and chaos.
Toga skids against the fresh ice, feet stumbling under her navy blue dress. She falls to the ground with a hard thud, and you see she isn’t stopping. She keeps going alongside the body, sliding until the two disappear under another parked car.
You don’t have time to think, a chill strikes up your spine in your panic.
“Toga!” you call out, taking off after her. Unfortunately you find yourself abruptly on your back, pounding hard on the stones and stealing the breath from your lungs.
If you could sigh right now you would. Or rather, if you could punch Toga right now you would, as rage twists with a throbbing pain in your chest. Was all this worth having a mobster roommate? The odds were piling against her. You have a mind to push her in the lake when you get there.
Several silent minutes go by with you staring up at the cloudy sky. It’s brighter from the illuminating white snow, and despite the icy powder prickling your flesh, you have no choice but to wait for the ache in your chest to fade.
“Enjoying the view?”
You hear a new voice, male, and the suave tone tells you who it is before he treads near. He looks over you with half lidded eyes of honey gold.
He’s very pretty. The drifting snow flakes above his wheat coloured head manage to enhance this, though the uplifted eyes lined in black, and nicely sharp features are the last thing you want to see. You’re nowhere near ready to start lying out of Toga’s mess.
“That can’t be too comfy down there,” Keigo says, bending forward with an outstretched hand,“C’mon, upsy-daisy.”
You take his hand, feeling another leather glove hold your waist and lift you onto your feet. When you settle, he starts brushing the caked snow off your back. Mobster or not, he’s at least a gentleman.
“You alright?” he asks, giving you a once over for any fresh scratches.
You give a slow nod, crossing your arms over your chest. Fear’s got the better of you, and you look anywhere but him., “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight.”
“Oh I am! You could say I’m on patrol, need to pick up a few things.”
Your gaze stills to your left, heart skipping. Keigo’s not alone. Standing nearby, a slim figure dressed in black from head to toe is watching you two lazily. A thread of smoke seeps from his parted lips, clouding a handsome face and spikes of black hair. Keigo keeps talking, but you can’t take your eyes off the ghostly presence you know to be Dabi.
“Unfortunately that includes loverboy. He was supposed to be back hours ago, but we figured he’s still fooling around,” a little smirk tugs at his mouth, suggestively “He’s still inside, right?”
You blink, turning back to face Keigo, “I wouldn’t know, I just got home,” you lie.
“Look at you! You look like you’re about to freeze to death.” He starts suddenly, swiftly slipping his arms out from his heavy coat, revealing a black three piece with pinstripes, and a brighter crimson tie. In one smooth motion he twirls the long, beige coat over your shoulders, letting it rest over your figure.
“Thank you,” you say, before your eyes catch something.
Dabi moves towards the clumsy skid marks, head tilting down to the red dots in the snow near his polished shoe. You stiffen.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Your gaze flashes from Dabi’s retreating back to a politely smiling Keigo, “Yeah, I’m fine! I’m really cold is all.”
“Well, we should get you inside. You know you left your door wide open?” Shit, the door. You forgot about the stupid door—
(Dabi looms across the indents in the snow and follows down the hill like a dark shadow against crystals illuminating bright.)
“Ah yeah, I thought I left my purse in the car. It was just for a second, and then I slipped,” You force a smile. Relax. You need to relax. Keigo doesn’t seem convinced, reading something off in your features.
“Is that right?”
(He gets the edge of the old Ford, and notes the specks of red soak wider here. The spots lead underneath.)
“I know, it’s pretty foolish. It’s um...It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, or...”
Your eyes drift over Keigo’s shoulder. The underboss starts to crouch low. Your pupils shrink, a new wave of panic tingles the back of your neck. Damn him, why was he so clever?
“Dabi, wait!” you shout, pushing past Keigo’s shoulder. In your hurry you kick up the snowy crystals, rushing to the taller mobster in his long obsidian coat. Dabi quickly turns, standing up.tall before you hook onto his upper arm like a lover. “I saw an animal go under there that looked hurt. You shouldn’t mess with it.”
A smirk that breaks into a grin spreads on his face, a look of amusement blooming from your look of fright. You want to glare at him, though that could be dangerous. Why does he like seeing you scared?
“An animal, you say?” he parrots back, adopting the same mocking pitch you gave Toga earlier. He’s not in the least bit on edge, and you really don’t like that. He flicks his teal eyes up to look behind you just then, “Good thing I have the city’s best exterminator right here.”
As if on cue, you hear the crunching boots of Keigo walking to the car. “Give me a break with the dirty work, will ya?”
“What, scared of a little pest?” Dabi taunts back coolly.
“I’m not too fond of getting my knees wet, actually,” Keigo returns quite dryly, sharp eyes studying the long pattern marks. He places his gloved hands on his thighs and drops himself to a crouch in front of the vehicle.
You desperately hope Toga proves you wrong. Maybe she had the common sense to bail while no one was looking. It’s all you can do at this point, while Keigo dips his head underneath. You don’t realize, but your grip on Dabi’s arm presses tighter into the wool.
Keigo inspects below for a moment. There’s a long pause like a winter evening should be. Silent. Calming. You can almost believe in the soothing little lie. Then Keigo coughs a laugh that echoes through the street. Bursts of manic giggles grow louder from the mobster, leaving you tilting your head at his pushed back hair, confused.
“There’s a pest, alright! I think I caught something—“
Keigo reaches under, and with an impressively strong yank, Toga’s head pops out in a doe eyed stare. Her arms are wrapped around a bundled rug with a fairly familiar head sticking out.
“Hey there, Toga!” Keigo exclaims, “When did you become a rat?”
Dabi tips his head down, drawing the lit cigarette back to his lazy smile. He’s shockingly calm which does nothing to ease your shivering panic. Toga however, seems fine. In fact, she’s moved on to livelier feelings.
“Hey! Does it look like a rat could’ve done this?!” she snaps, shaking the body in her arms. It bangs against the bottom of the car sending loud echoes through the nearly empty street. Specks of blood dribble on the white ground, and a couple more drops spray her cheeks.
You stare up at the clouds, rolling your eyes. Goddamnit Toga.
“Yeah, I guess a rat can’t hold a knife, huh? Ya got me there.” Keigo turns and beams you a smug look, eyes half lidded in an expression that reads, nice try, but you failed.
You scrunch your nose, quietly shooting him back a glare. Asshole might’ve caught you both red handed, but he didn’t have to be so fucking cocky about it. It’s only charming when he has a winning hand at cards. Beside you, Dabi’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, though you don’t have the guts to flash him the same glower. He is second in command after all.
“Yeah, see? That’s what I thought!” Toga says in victory.
You blink very, very slowly at Toga when she finally meets your vastly unamused gaze,“...Nice work, Toga.”
It comes suddenly. A fiery warmth ghosts the dip in your waist as Dabi leans in. It’s not unwelcomed, raw and soothing even, but it hardly lasts. His hand curls around Keigo’s coat collar and pulls it off your shoulders. The crisp wind rushes to your exposed arms.
“You got any rat poison on you, Hawks?” Dabi tosses the coat to Keigo.
He catches it mid air as he rises to stand. “Nah, fresh out. But we have some back at the house.”
“You want to take care of our rat problem then?”
“Can do, boss man.”
Before you can figure out what they mean–what they have planned for Toga–Dabi’s pristine leather glove presses at the small of your back and directs you toward the pouring light of the open door. “Don’t wait up.”
It’s barely there, but as you shift your eyes to Keigo, his features take on a darkened look toward Dabi.
“Play nice, now,” you hear Keigo say. This time though, the joyous tone is gone.
A new song hums on the radio when you’re pushed through the threshold, you listen to the richly solemn blues as Dabi closes the door. He turns the lock with a click and pockets the key.
“I forgive you
'Cause I can't forget you.
You've got me in between the devil and the deep blue sea”
He doesn’t give you a passing glance, instead he turns and strolls down the freshly bare hall. He hasn’t removed his coat, and each room he passes he tilts his head in to search for something, stopping by the parlor. With a twist of a knob, he shuts off the radio.
“Where’d she ice him?” he asks, still not looking at you by the stairwell.
“In the kitchen.” You return. No point in hiding it now.
His steps creak the wood as he ambles further down, knowing full well where to go. He’s been here a handful of times; of course, those were happier evenings filled with drunken laughs.
You watch him stand by the doorway, staring at the vibrant mess of a crime scene. He pops the tip of his cigarette in his mouth before slipping from your line of sight. Dabi’s got the key to the door, so it’s not like you can run away—especially with Keigo just outside. It’s too risky to try and you know it, but it does cross your mind.
Summing up the courage, you decide to follow Dabi with measured steps, “What are you going to do with Toga?”
When you face the kitchen, Dabi’s near the table where you threw your coat. He has a hand in one of your pockets, and he’s fishing for something inside. It jingles in his grip as he stuffs it into his own pocket. Your car keys.
“Are you going to kill her?” you try again, a little irked he’s swiping your things left and right. He doesn’t release your coat either, laying it over the crook of his elbow.
He draws a final inhale from the dying bud, and crosses to the sink to snuff it out. An exhale of smoke blows out from his lips, “Killing her seems like a favor, don’t you think?”
“I thought it was the other way around.”
He turns, flicking teal eyes sheening with energy at you, “That lunatic’s no longer your concern. Right now, you ought to be more worried about yourself.”
Your features go taut, which in turn makes Dabi’s sadistic smirk return.
“I didn’t help her kill him.”
“No,” he agrees, taking a few strides around the blood to approach you,“but you were willing to stash the stiff.”
“Yeah, for this very reason. I didn’t want you coming after me!”
Dabi draws dangerously close, mere inches apart as he glances down with lidded eyes, the smell of tobacco perfumes from his shirt collar nestled under a violet tie. He crooks his index finger, embellished with a silver ring, ghosting it under your chin. “How’d that turn out for you, babydoll?”
With a ruthless smile, he breaks the fixed stare and rounds you to the hallway. He seems to be making his way towards the parlor again, but the swish of your peacoat in his arm, set you off.
How dare he? You don’t like how he’s walked inside, claiming what’s yours. You might have your life screwed over, but at the very least you want your coat back as some semblance of control.
You stalk after him, picking up pace to aim for his arm. The clacks of your heels are loud, but you currently couldn’t care less about being sneaky, “Give it fucking back. You’re not keeping that!”
You lunge for the black wool, but as your fingers brush the material on his left elbow, Dabi whips the coat, rotating arms. You’re not fast enough, but you try a second reach for his right arm, huffing out a growl at his stealthy reflexes.
“Dabi, I’m serious! You’re such a—”
In a twirling motion his newly free palm shoves at your shoulder, pinning you against the stairwell’s wall. He’s close, so close, the blue flames in his eyes are absurdly intense.
“That makes two of us. You’ll get this back when I say so.”
His voice is low, soft lips almost connecting to yours. You tilt your chin up, glaring at him with fearful, tentative eyes. His gaze flashes with mirth, and he huffs a small laugh at you.
“I’ve always liked this about you. That spark inside you.” He muses. The peacoat spills to the floor. Dabi lifts his slender fingers, pushing back a loose curl from your cheek.
Your stomach flips, as shocks tickle your skin. There’s been subtle flirting between you two before. You just wrote it off as overthinking the moment. Even though he only called you, babydoll, and he sat next to you at gatherings. How he filled your glass with water instead of booze as the nights waned. Now, you feel foolish for denying the little signs.
“You have a horrible way of showing girls you like ‘em,” you counter back, your voice’s quiet but leveled.
“Yeah?” he asks. The arm holding your shoulder tightens, while the other lowers to collect your long skirt. He traces his knuckles on the soft flesh of your thigh. As his hand trails up, his eyes remain fixed on your facial features. “Maybe this will help.”
His slim fingers reach the cotton slip, and it’s easy to pull off to the side, exposing the lips of your warmth. He tests the waters, sweeping the tips of his fingers across your folds. Your mouth parts in a breathless hitch in your throat. Dabi parts his own lips drawing near, ‘til his lips touch yours but not quite pressing together yet. His pierced nose bumps yours.
“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts, just before sinking two fingers between your folds, pumping deep and slow inside. “You’ll go upstairs and pack what you need. When you come down—”
He thrusts particularly hard into you, sending a gasping moan to fall from your open mouth. His voice remains calm, a hint of glee can be detected. Fucking bastard.
“—You’ll be leaving with me. You’ll work for me...Live with me…And you’ll do everything I say. You got it, babydoll?”
He adds a third finger, soaking his knuckles deep with your slick. He’s hitting the right spots, the perfectly deep pressure. Your attention turns hazy as wakes of pleasure tighten just below your stomach. Your hips buck against his thrusting hand, yet still, you manage to nod your head.
Moans flutter from your lips and vibrate onto his smiling one. To heighten the pleasure he begins swirling your wet clit. “Ah, Dabi...Oh god, Dabi—”
He slows his fingers suddenly, which makes you cry out. He pretends to ignore it. “If you try to escape me...I will hunt you down and hurt you in ways that will marr that pretty skin of yours. I’ll make you scream so loud, and no one will be there to save you. Tell me you understand.”
He curls his knuckles, pressing into a rough spot at the top, pumping fiercely against your slippery, muscular walls. You cry out, squeezing at his shirt collar and coat. “Fuck—I understand, I understand! Baby, right there, ah!”
Dabi gives you no mercy. He tugs and twirls the bud of sensitive nerves, swirling with driven circles that clench your walls in wonderous pressure. You’re close, he’s so close to sending you in high bliss. Your moans get heavier, and your clenching more and more and—
He removes his fingers. Another cry of protest sobs from your mouth only to be swallowed by Dabi’s lips on yours. His tongue massages the moans from your breath, his scent of cigarettes and smoke immerse your senses as you drown in the kiss.
He slowly breaks apart with a wet sound, looking deeply in your lust-glossed eyes. His voice is low and arousingly husky. “Now get your things.”
Before you know it, Dabi pulls away from your shoulders, and turns for the parlor. You try catching your breath, watching his slim, muscular back...Did that happen? Did he rob you of everything? Your home, your life, your orgasm?
Eventually, with light steps you do as you’re told, and turn to climb up the stairs. What choice do you have? He has your life in the palm of his hand. And right before you make it to the top, your hand drawn on the railing, the spinning clicks of your house phone perk your ear.
A long pause. Then finally, Dabi’s rich voice speaks up from the parlor,
“Hey, I’ll be needing a few guys at Togas...Yeah, we found him….Toga did him in pretty good...No, we’ll need the good bleach for cleanup.”
***
P.S, this might be a mini series 👀
#dabi x reader#touya todoroki x reader#bnha fanfiction#mha fanfiction#dabi#touya todoroki#my hero academia fanfiction#boku no hero academia fanfics#mafia!dabi#tw blackmail#tw blood#keigo takami#bnha x reader#the smut pile#tw dubcon#shadow tales
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As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.
Read on AO3
He can’t remember the last time waking up was a remotely soothing experience. Geralt’s sleep muzzy mind has no other word for the body plastered against his front from shoulder to hip, the steady heartbeat against his palm where his hand is splayed out across someone’s chest. His nose is tucked against the nape of someone’s neck, and the scent is far too familiar to be jarring.
“Jaskier,” he rumbles quietly, his mouth miles ahead of the rest of him. The quiet, absent pleasure of waking up tangled with someone who smells sleepy and content and like they’re his leaves no room for reason. There’s no room for anything really, except to press a kiss to whatever patch of skin he can find, savoring the soft sigh it earns him.
Jaskier is… The night before rushes back to him, and Geralt almost jerks away, even though it would be entirely pointless to bother with that now. He cracks an eye open and is met with the disaster that Jaskier’s hair, mussed in the night by sleep, and by Geralt’s fingers buried in it before that. Even as worry begins to creep in, he sort of wants to do it again.
This isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed. This probably isn’t even the hundredth time they’ve shared a bed. This is most definitely the first time they’ve done so with so little clothing between them, none to be exact. There’s only the blanket tucked around them both, warm and lovely and unexpectedly distressing.
Geralt isn’t sorry, per se. Jaskier’s chest rises and falls under Geralt’s palm in the slow rhythm of sleep. It’s the loveliest thing Geralt can remember waking up to, and therein lies the problem. An emotion fed only grows, and this unruly, sprawling affection is the worst offender. Stupidly, Geralt had thought getting this out of his system would quell it, but the longing reaches a fever pitch instead.
Jaskier is beautiful, all the more so for the way he shifts in his sleep, closing the gap Geralt has tried to put between them. Geralt could happily wake like this every day for the rest of his life, but it isn’t a fair thing to ask of someone who flits from one love to the next like a butterfly between flowers. He will not trap Jaskier in this just because he happens to be besotted. Somehow, the resolve not to try to keep this does nothing to ease the guilt welling up that he wants to in the first place.
Nothing Jaskier said the night before conveyed meaning beyond a playful desire to tumble into bed together. Moving the target now would only be cruel. He should be rolling out of bed, hastening them back to normal. He should be proving that this has done nothing to harm their friendship. It isn’t Jaskier’s fault, after all, the way Geralt wants to breathe him in and kiss him senseless and forget the rest of the world until the innkeeper boots them out.
“Geralt?” Jaskier startles the witcher from his worries, wriggling impossibly closer and laying a palm over his knuckles. “You okay?”
“Thinking,” Geralt replies vaguely.
“Well, don’t hurt yourself,” Jaskier teases, still warm and lethargic with sleep. Geralt almost manages to take advantage of the levity of the moment and extricate himself, but before he can, Jaskier rolls over so they’re nearly nose to nose. His fingers cradle Geralt’s cheek and any attempt to escape now would just be graceless. “What about?”
Geralt doesn’t know how to answer, so he only hums noncommittally and hopes Jaskier will let it lie. Of course, Jaskier being Jaskier, does no such thing. He takes advantage of the change in positions to tangle his legs up with Geralt. “I can’t tell you to knock it off if you don’t tell me what it is.”
“We should get going.” Geralt tries once more to escape, frowning when Jaskier shows no sign of releasing him. It’s silly of course. Jaskier couldn’t hope to hold him here if Geralt was set on leaving. He just can’t actually make himself do it.
“Was it that bad a night?” It’s an easy opening, an invitation to stray back to their usual banter, but Geralt gets no further than a raised eyebrow before Jaskier is clasping a hand over the witcher’s mouth. “Wait. Don’t answer that or I might have to smother you with a pillow and that’ll just be unfortunate for both of us.”
Right there, with Jaskier smiling at him, Geralt can almost believe they’re going to survive this. Almost, but almost still leaves a distance he cannot cross. As soon as Jaskier pulls his hand back from Geralt’s mouth, the witcher opens it. “They’re not going to let us sleep in forever.”
“They might if I convince them to let me play again this evening. We could move on tomorrow,” Jaskier ventures, but something in Geralt’s face must give him pause. “Oh do not look at me like that. The world isn’t going to end just because you stop to take a breath once in a while, Geralt.”
“That’s not…” Geralt starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish. There are no words that convey the razor wire sensation of facing down the impermanence of Jaskier’s affections, of realizing how deeply his own feelings run far too late.
“Shh.” Geralt knew what to do with impulse, with Jaskier’s mouth crashing into his, with Jaskier’s hands scrabbling at him to shed his clothes. He doesn’t know what to do with the tender, intentional way Jaskier regards him this morning, lips pressing to the witcher’s brow and lingering afterwards. Does it mean something, or does Jaskier grant all his lovers this subdued, aimless devotion? Lust was so much simpler than this aching sort of affection that puts down roots even as Geralt tries to burn it away.
Geralt doesn’t precisely surrender, but he resigns himself to the lazy attention Jaskier is so determined to lavish on him. If he lets Jaskier turn him away later instead of now, there will be at least this one pleasant thing to remember. So he doesn’t complain at Jaskier’s fingers combing through his hair, or the bard’s body pressed warmly to his. If every touch feels like a harbinger of their demise, it’s still hard to let go of.
He almost passes things off as okay, he thinks, until Jaskier kisses him. It’s a brief thing, immediately withdrawn. “Geralt?”
If realizing the hopeless situation he’s stumbled into was uncomfortable, the idea of talking about it is nothing short of torture.
“Well, you haven’t shoved me out of bed yet, so you’re not mad. Talk to me,” Jaskier coaxes, his expression so openly concerned and affectionate, Geralt could scream.
“It’s no-” Geralt starts, but Jaskier shut him up with a theatrically sour look.
“I swear if you say nothing,” Jaskier threatens aimlessly, an easy smile on his lips, but underneath, Geralt can hear the way his anxious heart threatens to vibrate right out of his chest.
“I don’t know what this is,” Geralt admits because that, at least, is safe. It’s nothing about how he feels in relation to anything. It’s nothing about the want that simmers under the surface despite his guilt.
Jaskier’s brows scrunch in a way that would be endearing if the entire ordeal didn’t feel so fraught already. “I don’t think I follow. I mean, I know having a conversation isn’t your usual wheelhouse, but it’s not exactly a foreign concept.”
“Not. That.” Geralt bites the words out, tight and clipped while he gathers his frayed nerves enough to explain. “You’re not in the habit of keeping people. I don’t know what you want.”
For just a second, Jaskier looks like he’s been struck and Geralt wants desperately to take the whole thing back. But the bard’s expression smooths out and then twists up in a wry smile. “Of course I don’t. What would I even do? Drag someone else along on our travels?”
There’s a point Jaskier is making. It’s right there. He knows it is, but it eludes Geralt anyway. “You could have stayed somewhere if there was someone you wanted to stick around for.”
Jaskier laughs, just a giggle at first, and then so hard that even his efforts to bury his face against Geralt’s shoulder do nothing to stifle it. “You are absolutely right. I could fall completely and utterly in love with someone and choose to stick around.”
“I don’t see how that’s funny,” Geralt says flatly, staring at the far wall of their room. The urge to curl around Jaskier and forget the whole stupid conversation in strong, and maybe he’d have been better off doing that in the first place, but he doesn’t surrender to it.
“Well, you’re one of the smartest people I know, so these moments where you decide to be an absolute idiot happen to be hilarious,” Jaskier teases. The bard must take pity, because his palm slides to cradle Geralt’s jaw, and Jaskier puts himself right at eye level where the witcher can’t look away. “Don’t you realize? I fell in love with someone, and I chose to stick around. It happened ages ago.”
Geralt has long since given up on trying to anticipate what Jaskier will say to any given prompt, but that is… somehow not even on the same continent as anything he might have expected. “What?”
“You really are determined to make this as difficult and stressful for me as possible, aren’t you?” Jaskier asks. There’s a tightness around his eyes when he looks at Geralt, leaving the witcher with the awful realization that Jaskier must be flying as blind as he is. He’s probably as unsure of Geralt’s intent as Geralt is of his. And yet… “I chose you, you ridiculous man. I always choose you.”
That… that explains a lot, actually. Geralt swallows thickly as Jaskier’s nose bumps against his. “Why didn’t you ever say?”
“Ah yes. ‘Hello my very dear emotionally… hampered witcher who will sometimes, on a very good day, admit that we are friends. Would it it complicate things overly much if I also happened to be completely, utterly in love with you?’” Jaskier huffs out a helpless, almost panicky sort of laugh. “Tell me Geralt, is there any time in the last few years where that would have gone well?”
Years? Now, confronted with the full force of it, Geralt isn’t sure how he even missed it last night, let alone for so long. Now that he knows it’s always been a bit painfully obvious. And much as he’d like to, he can’t really argue against Jaskier’s point that it probably wouldn’t have gone well to say so. “What changed?”
Jaskier sighs in that dramatic, overdone way he tends to when he’s being asked what he thinks is an exceedingly silly question. “You did.”
“Hmm.” Geralt doesn’t comment and Jaskier doesn’t press for further conversation. It’s peaceful, this thing blossoming between them, now that his most immediate concerns have been silenced.
That Jaskier laid his heart on the line and asked for nothing back isn’t lost on Geralt though. The words catch and stick on his throat, so Geralt writes them into the tender way he traces the curve of Jaskier’s spine with his fingertips. He presses them against Jaskier’s lips, jaw, throat with lazy, lingering kisses.
“So tell me-” Jaskier starts, the words interrupted by a soft sigh as Geralt’s thumb skims the divot of his hip. It’s an unmistakably promising sound all by itself, even ignoring that delightful way Jaskier presses into the touch. He finishes his thought, but it’s unmistakably breathless. “What are you thinking now?”
The recognition that this isn’t some fluke settles warmly around him. This could be always. There are so few things a witcher really keeps, but for now he’s willing to entertain the notion that this might be one of them.
“I’m thinking…” Geralt mumbles against the side of Jaskier’s neck, delighting in the way the bard’s fingers tangle in his hair and tug. “That maybe we’ll leave tomorrow.”
#geralt of rivia#Jaskier#geralt x jaskier#geraskier#gerlion#the witcher#my fic#They're both dumb and I love them#They may not have been remotely related to what I meant to write this month#But hey I posted stuff three days in a row and it's not even Nano month yet
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Room to Breathe
Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Gender Neutral Reader
Word Count: 4,297
Summary: You're out at a crowded bar with the boys and start to have a panic attack from all the sensory overload and your crush Josh helps you through it
Warnings: swearing, alcohol use, general angst, detailed descriptions of sensory overload, anxiety, and spiraling negative thoughts. If you find any of these things to be triggering or otherwise upsetting, please proceed with extreme caution!
A/N: So I haven't written a fic in like... God, six years maybe? But this idea popped into my head the other night and just wouldn't leave so I figured what the heck, why not give this writing thing another try? I had an absolute blast writing this, and I hope you all enjoy it!
You held your head in your hands, trying your best to steady your breathing as you took refuge in the bathroom stall. The pounding, brain-rattling music of the honky-tonk was slightly more bearable in the relative quiet of the restroom, but you still found yourself grinding your teeth as the noise was beginning to get to you. Densely packed places were always a challenge; you weren't necessarily afraid of crowds, or claustrophobic, or anything like that, it was more that the combination of the overbearing noise and the feeling of being packed in like a sardine tended to make you a little... Panicky, to say the least. It didn't help that just getting into the bar in the first place nearly gave you sensory overload either. But you weren't about to bail early if you could help it, and you weren’t about to let a little creeping panic ruin a night on the town with the guys of Greta Van Fleet, especially not when Josh was the one who'd invited you to come along. Besides, you could handle a crowded, noisy bar for one night, right?
The sudden slamming of the bathroom door made you jump in your stall, the rowdy voices of drunk patrons shattering whatever peace you'd had up to that point. You let out a heavy sigh, figuring it was for the best as you'd already been in there for at least five minutes. Any longer and the guys might've started to get worried, or worse, come looking for you. You emerged from your stall, ignoring the drunk people and their slurred conversation to your left as you washed your hands, and then taking a moment to splash some water on your face. Just the thought of going back out into the noise and crowd was enough to make your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help but feel a little pissed off at the current situation. You’d been looking forward to this night out for over a week; a chance to properly spend time with the guys outside of work after doing odd jobs around their studio for the last few months, and you’d especially been looking forward to spending some time with Josh. As much as you hated to admit it, you’d developed a little bit of a crush on him over the course of working at the studio, but you figured there was no harm in dreaming as long as you kept things platonic and professional. He seemed to enjoy your company and laugh at your jokes, and you definitely enjoyed his in return.
You let out another shaky breath, taking a few more seconds to steel yourself before heading back out there. You knew this place would be packed, and you’d been ready for it, honestly you had. But today had just been one of those aggravating days, the kind where every little thing seemed to go wrong and rub you the wrong way. And when that happened, the panic would tend to creep in more easily, and with greater intensity. Still, you resolved to hold yourself together as best you could and not ruin the evening, glancing at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were presentable, before turning around and reentering the bar.
All at once, the blaring music and roar of the crowd hit you, and you couldn't even hear yourself think. There were flashing neon lights hung up on every wall, a few TVs scattered here and there playing some sports channels, and people zipping about all over the place. It felt like your whole head was ringing, your eyes and ears begging for mercy already as you made your way back to the far corner of the room where the boys’ table was. You could eventually pick out Josh's boisterous laughter through the mayhem, and the four of them came into view just in time for you to see Josh lob a pretzel about 4 feet into the air, only for Jake to expertly and effortlessly catching it in his mouth. Danny and Sam both cheered at once, each of them swiftly downing a shot of tequila as Josh shared a high five with his twin.
"Hell yeah Jakey, ten in a row, that's a new record!" He exclaimed in triumph, grabbing his glass and finishing what was left of his salty dog in one gulp. When he was done, he noticed you approaching the table and his eyes immediately lit up, though whether that was because of you or the sudden rush of alcohol you weren’t sure. Still, it was always nice to see him smile, even when you felt like you were on the verge of losing your mind.
"Heeey, Y/N's back! Now we can get this party going again!" He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side as he grinned from ear to ear. In any other situation your hopeless crush on him would make you nervous if he got this close to you, but after your perilous trek to the bathroom and back a little contact from someone besides a total stranger was more than welcome.
"Yeah, what took you so long?" Jake teased, popping another pretzel into his mouth. "We were starting to think you'd fallen into the sewers or something!"
"No, that's what you thought Jake, me 'n Sam were betting they'd run off and joined the circus!" Danny added with a grin, his words slightly slurred from the tequila at this point.
You swallowed tightly, flashing them a half-forced grin as you shook your head. “Guys, c’mon, be reasonable here, it was nothing like that... What really happened was an alligator popped up out of the toilet and we had a riveting conversation about quantum physics and string theory.”
The guys erupted into laughter; Jake covering his mouth so he didn’t accidentally spit out his pretzel, Josh cackling to your left, Sam almost choking on his beer, and Danny holding his face in his palm as he snickered drunkenly. Even in your heightened state of anxiety, you couldn't help but genuinely laugh along with them in the moment. After all, even in a stressful situation the guys were still a hoot to be around. They each had their own oddball sense of humor that made you, a fellow oddball, feel right at home with them. And the fact that Josh's arm was still wrapped around your shoulder was pretty nice too. It was almost enough to make the blaring noise and packed-in-like-sardines feeling of the bar bearable... Almost.
You were able to keep it together enough to have another round of drinks with them, finding solace in a simple vodka cranberry as the guys got drunker and more boisterous. Danny and Sam decided to have an arm wrestling contest, which Danny won quite easily given his drummer's arms, though that didn’t stop Sam from challenging him to a rematch, and still losing, five more times. Then Jake ended up slipping into his Oliver Reed impression, made all the more credible in his intoxicated state, and he began to ramble on about how wild and wonderful the filming of Tommy had been. Josh of course piped in when he could, commentating on Danny and Sam’s contest like a sports announcer and slipping into his own goofy voice as he ”interviewed” Mr. Reed. If this were happening anywhere else, literally anywhere else besides an overcrowded bar in the most overcrowded part of Nashville, you would've been having the absolute time of your life. But instead you found yourself getting more and more tense with each moment that passed by, the pounding noise and mass of shifting bodies behind you making your pulse race and your head ache. Your drink had done absolutely nothing to calm your nerves, and not even the continued feeling of Josh's arm on your shoulder seemed to help, and you were starting to resent the fact that you couldn't even enjoy that.
You finally hit your limit when you felt the sharp point of someone's elbow jab into the middle of your back, and you flinched hard away from the source of the sudden contact. You could feel Josh’s arm tighten around your shoulder slightly, and everyone's heads whipped around to see a young woman, clearly drunk and looking very apologetic.
"O-oh shit, I'm so sorry sweetie!" She slurred out, steadying herself on her feet. "Didn't mean t'hitcha! Jus' tryin' to get s'more drinks for my table!"
The guys all nodded, assuring her it was and honest mistake and she gave them all a smile and a wave as she staggered off towards the bar. You, on the other hand, couldn’t even bring yourself to look at her, your eyes locked on an empty glass on the table as the ringing in your head became unbearable, every nerve and muscle in your body suddenly taut like a bowstring. The guys kept talking, though what about you had no clue, unable to make out what they were saying as your own pulse pounded in your ears. In the back of your mind you thought you could feel Josh's thumb rubbing gently against your shoulder, almost in a soothing kind of motion, but you honestly couldn't be sure right now. Every molecule in your body was struggling to keep it together as you quickly spiraled into a frenzied panic, and the only thing you were absolutely positive was true was that you had to get out of there fast.
"Hey... You alright?" Josh's voice was suddenly clear and crisp in your ears like a bell, and it was enough to snap you out of your spiral for just a second and address the table. Though the way Jake, Sam, and Danny were looking at you expectantly made you feel like you wanted to run and hide under a rock. If there was one thing you hated more than having a breakdown in public, it was people knowing you were having a breakdown in public.
"O-oh yeah, I'm good! Sh-she just startled me is all..." Your voice trailed off, and you swallowed dryly as you fought back tears. "I... I'm just gonna s-step outside for a second and get some air, yeah?" You said with a plastered-on smile, doing your best to not let them know anything was wrong as you reluctantly wormed your way out of Josh's grip and made your way towards the nearest door. You pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the protests as you bumped into several people along the way, struggling to focus long enough to make it to your goal. You could feel your throat tightening, hot tears stinging your eyes as shame and embarrassment crept into your panic stricken mind. ‘Seriously? You couldn't even handle one night out in a crowded bar? You just had to let your sort-of-crappy day get to you and ruin everyone's night, didn't you?’
Finally reaching the door, you stumbled out of it, desperately trying to catch your breath as you welcomed the sudden rush of fresh air. Unfortunately, in your panic, the door you ended up choosing wasn’t the one that led to the bar's outdoor area like you thought, but the front door, and you suddenly found yourself adrift in the churning tide of rowdy, drunken humanity that was the Broadway strip on a Friday night. You didn't even bother trying to hold the tears back at this point, completely overwhelmed and hyperventilating as you found the quietest spot in sight, an empty doorway on the other side of the bar's front windows, and sank to the ground. You hugged your knees tightly as you brought them up to your chest, shaking as you buried your face in your arms, the blaring noise, blinding lights, and sheer presence of the crowd causing you to shut down on the spot.
The feeling of a hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your stupor, and you scrambled away from the touch as fast as you could with a startled scream. You were fully prepared to yell at whatever stranger had just touched you, because the last thing you needed right now was some rando putting their hands on you. To your mix of shock and relief, it was Josh's face that you saw, his eyes a little wide as he held up both of his hands in a defensive manner.
"Easy Y/N, it's just me, it’s Josh!" He said as softly as he could while still being audible over the throng of the crowd. You couldn't find it in you to respond, just staring at him like a deer caught in a car’s headlights as your body started to shake uncontrollably. You suddenly realized there was, in fact, something you hated more than people knowing you were having a breakdown in public, and that was your goddamn crush knowing that you were having a breakdown in public. In the back of your panic-stricken mind you wondered, if you just stayed still long enough, whether Josh would just turn around and leave you alone. You realized just how futile that thought was when he did quite the opposite and extended a hand out to you.
"It's pretty intense out here. Let's go find a quieter spot, alright?"
The rest of your body still shaking, you nodded your head eagerly, accepting his hand as he pulled you up off the ground. Once you were standing, he let go of your hand and wrapped that same arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side as he cocked his head in one direction.
"You're ok, just stay close to me, I'll get you out of here."
You hastily nodded again, unable to make words or maintain eye contact as you turned your gaze to the concrete below you and let Josh guide you through the sea of bodies. It felt like you were in there forever, the crowd shifting all around you, and any time you felt someone get too close, your body began to lock up and freeze. The only thing that kept you upright and moving was Josh's arm curled around your side, keeping you grounded as he led you away from the worst of the crowd. Eventually it dawned on you that the number of people around you were thinning out, the noise getting less and less intense as Josh led you up a street and then some kind of steep ramp. A cool rush of air and the sudden smell of water hit your nostrils and you glanced upwards to get your bearings just in time to realize that Josh was leading you over the river on the pedestrian bridge, towards the eastern side of the city and away from the bedlam of Broadway. You were about three quarters of the way over the bridge before he pulled you off to the side, leading you right up to the railing where you could clearly feel the breeze. The cacophony you'd just escaped from was still very much audible from this distance, but you found its volume to be much more bearable now. There was also plenty of room out here, as well as far fewer people, and for the first time since you'd entered the bar earlier that night, you felt like you could finally breathe.
You leaned forward, bracing yourself against the railing as you took deep breaths in through your nose, before slowly exhaling through your mouth, and you could feel your body ever so slowly start to relax more and more with each one you took. Josh was quiet for the time being, his hand moving from your side to your back and rubbing up and down in a soothing motion while you caught your breath. Despite feeling calmer, the tears were more difficult to stop, anger and embarrassment at yourself nagging you in the back of your mind, unable to shake the feeling that you'd just ruined whatever fun he'd been having that night.
You felt something soft touch your arm and you looked up to see a packet of tissues in Josh's other hand as he offered them to you, still silently rubbing your back. You happily accepted them, tearing the plastic open and grabbing a couple before reaching up and wiping your face, your breath still hitching here and there as you tried to steady yourself mentally. After a few more moments of quiet you finally heard Josh speak up, his voice soft and concerned.
"How're you doing? Any better?"
You bit your lip out of nerves, nodding as you finally worked up the courage to look him in the eye for the first time since leaving the doorway by the bar. You were expecting to see anger, annoyance, judgement; honestly all the things you felt about yourself right now reflected back at you in his face, but instead you saw nothing but sympathy and concern painted across his features. In any other situation you'd be positively swooning over how he was looking at you so tenderly. It was another couple moments before the ability to speak finally came back to you, and you let out a heavy, shaking sigh.
“Y-yeah I… I’m alright now…. Thanks.” you trailed off, trying to swallow down the shame that had been slowly creeping into your mind. “I… I’m so sorry about this… I d-didn’t mean to ruin everyone’s night.”
“Ok, first of all-” Josh said in a calm but firm voice, his palm on your back pressing into you a bit more and pulling you closer to him. “We’re not gonna do that tonight, alright? You didn’t ruin damn thing, you had a panic attack and that’s not your fault.” It took everything in you to not star crying again when he said that, though at least this time it would've been because you were touched by his concern and not because you were upset.
“And second, I should be the one apologizing to you. That street can be really intense if you’re not ready for it, and I should’ve checked with you ahead of time that you were. I never would’ve picked such a crowded spot if I knew that was gonna be an issue for you.”
You sniffled a little bit, shaking your head as you slowly pulled yourself together. “I-it’s ok, really... Like, normally I can handle crowds and loud noise, but being packed in like that, with everyone bumping into you and all the noise and lights on top of it... that can just be too much for me to handle sometimes, you know?” You watched as Josh nodded along to what you spoke, indicating that he was listening, and knowing that he wasn't going to judge you for how you reacted was helping the residual panic and shame you still felt fade away.
“And then on top of that, today just like.... kind of sucked, in general. I mean, nothing terrible happened or anything, but it was a whole bunch of little things, one after the other. I totally fucked up making breakfast, my cat threw up on my favorite pair of shoes, I got a parking ticket for a really ridiculous reason, and I have some other work deadlines coming up that’re stressing me out, so I already wasn’t in the best headspace to deal with all of...That tonight.” you gestured your hand back towards the direction of Broadway.
"Then when that chick jabbed me in the back it just... snapped something inside me. I-I know it was an accident, and I don’t blame her for what she did, but it honestly startled me so bad, and I just lost it..."
"I don’t blame you,” he replied sympathetically “That’s entirely too much shit to deal with in a single day.”
"And like... I-I know I could’ve asked for a raincheck, but I didn't wanna like, be rude or have you guys think I was blowing you off. Because I didn’t want to blow you guys off! Especially not for something so stupid..."
"Hey, it's not stupid at all." He replied adamantly, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Those kind of crappy days have a way if wearing you down way harder than you’d think."
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d been so, so worried that Josh was going to be angry, or that he wouldn’t have understood what had happened, as had been the case for you so many times before. His hand began gently rubbing your back again in a soothing motion, and the two of you slipped into silence for a moment, letting the cool breeze coming off of the river wash over you. Even with the music still pounding in the distance, you could hear the sound of the river rushing under you if you listened closely enough, and so you did, finding the sound incredibly soothing. It was almost hypnotizing in a way, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed before Josh spoke again, but when he did, you were a little surprised by what he had to say.
“I know a couple smaller clubs on the outskirts of the city we could check out next time. They've still got all the good drinks and music, but they aren’t nearly as intense as that one was.” he suggested, flashing you a warm smile.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, those definitely sound like my kind of place. But you seriously want me to hang out with you guys again after that whole mess?”
“Of course! So you had a bad night, it happens to the best of us. We aren’t gonna hold it against you. Besides, why wouldn’t we wanna hang out with someone as awesome as you?”
You let out a small chuckle, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as nervous blush crept onto your cheeks. “Well, I’m not sure about awesome... but I’m glad to know you guys enjoy my company.”
“What, are you kidding me?” he retorted enthusiastically, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the bridge. “You’re absolutely awesome! You’re so nice and welcoming to everyone, you’ve got an incredible sense of humor, great taste in music, and you are delightfully weird!” You were glad the lighting on the bridge wasn’t the best where you were standing, because your face was rapidly turning red as he kept showering you with compliments.
“Well, thank you.” You replied somewhat shyly, a grin spreading across your face as you found Josh’s good mood infectious, feeling much more at ease now than you had earlier. In a sudden streak of boldness you struck a small pose, with one hand framing your face dramatically. “But what, no mention of my flawless good looks?”
You were just kidding around, of course, and Josh knew you were too. But even still, you couldn't help but notice the way Josh’s eyes widened and his smile twitched ever so slightly when you said that, or how he seemed to be blushing if the way his cheekbones suddenly appeared darker were anything to go by.
“I mean...” he began with a small shrug, his smile downright sheepish at this point “That’s so incredibly obvious that I kinda figured it went without saying. But they’re definitely a bonus!”
You let out a nervous laugh, feeling your face burn from the sudden rush of blood to it, and you turned to face back towards the river. You couldn’t keep looking at him when he said that, not when he said it while he had his hand on your back, not when he was blushing while he said it, not when he said it so... so earnestly. You pressed into his side a bit more firmly, and you swore you could feel his heart beating faster in his chest.
“Yeah, well... don’t sell yourself short, you’ve got a face that could give Errol Flynn a run for his money.” you half-teased, nudging him affectionately in the ribs with your elbow. He let out a small chuckle beside you, his arm still firmly wrapped around your shoulder and he gave your arm a soft, affectionate squeeze in return. The two of you said nothing for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company and touch as you both gazed out over the river, watching the lights of the city twinkle and glimmer on it’s dark surface.
“Is... is it cool if we just stay up here for a little while?” you asked, suddenly feeling very physically tired after this whole ordeal. “I hate to just ditch the others and leave them in that bar, but I honestly don’t think I could handle going back in there tonight.”
“Oh don’t worry, a bar is the best place we could possibly leave them.” Josh said with a chuckle. “But seriously, we can stay out here as long as you need.” he assured, giving you a firm hug from the side and flashing you a soft, reassuring smile. “We don’t have to go anywhere.”
A sudden surge of warmth and fatigue washed over you, and you found yourself leaning more heavily into Josh’s frame, which he seemed to welcome, finally letting your head come to rest on his shoulder. Your eyes slipped closed for a second, and you took a deep breath before letting out a soft, contented sigh.
“Thank you so much for everything you did for me tonight. I seriously can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” He hummed softly in reply as he leaned back against you, the weight of his cheek suddenly pressing into the top of your head.
“Anytime, Y/N. I’ll always have your back.”
#greta van fleet#greta van fic#greta van fleet fan fiction#josh kiszka x reader#sidecut fics#because I guess that's a tag I need now x'D#I still can't believe I actually wrote something again after all this time. I had so much goddang fun!
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be my festival date! (asahi)
word count: 2,353
pairing: azumane asahi x fem!reader
warnings: literally all fluff and asahi being a panicky little cutie lol
a/n: hello lovelies! thank you for all the love on the series so far haha i’m really glad to see you guys liked the idea! i surprised myself with how long this one was so i’m sorry it’s already longer than the first chapter lol i hope you guys like it though!! enjoy :D note: the following gif is not mine - credits to the original creator
haikyuu masterlist | be my festival date masterlist
Asahi had actually been relatively calm this morning, given the circumstances. He had spent his time getting ready also praying to any gods that would listen, hoping they would grace him with the ability to make you happy. That’s all he wanted from today, after all. He just wanted you to be happy. His eyes crinkled into a soft smile as he thought about the giggle that erupted from your lips, the smile on your lips, the passion in your eyes as you talked about your interests - you were such an extraordinary person and he was lucky enough to get to spend part of the day with you. So of course he wanted you to be happy.
He had pulled his hair into a loose bun behind his head, tugged on a nice sweater that was nice but not too nice for a festival, wanting to look his absolute best for you because today was going to be a great day, he reminded himself over and over again.
He was completely calm. That is, until his eyes met yours. There was something about the way the excitement lit up on your face as you caught his eye, the way that your hand shot up in the air to wave at him, the excited skipping over to him - it just blew him away.
And suddenly, Asahi couldn’t remember how to breathe properly. Was it… was it through his nose? His mouth? Should he be taking in more oxygen? Should he be breathing out more? Was he breathing too loudly now?
There must’ve been a sort of panicked look in Asahi’s eyes as you came over to him because you started laughing the moment you saw him, “You doing alright, Asahi?”
He nodded eagerly, swallowing down his nerves as he tried to seem as calm as he had felt this morning, “Y-Yea! You just… you just take away a guy’s breath so easily ya know?” It would’ve been such a smooth line, if Asahi’s voice hadn’t been cracking while saying it out of nervousness.
You seemed pleased by it regardless, just by the way you smiled and laughed, reaching up to give him a hug, “Thanks Asahi! You look very nice today.”
Asahi’s cheeks were already burning warmer than he would’ve liked, stammering out a thank you before trying to clear his throat, “S-So! The games!” He blurted out, as if remembering why the two of you were there. “I figured out where all the games are - most of them are around here, which is why I asked you to meet me here. But if you’re up for trekking around with me, there’s some other games across the festival grounds.”
You were beyond excited, your smile stretching even wider as Asahi showed you the map that he had received of the festival’s activities, “Sounds good!” You had been thrilled when Asahi had asked you to play some of these dumb games with him - it didn’t really matter to you that people always insisted that they were rigged and were just a waste of money. You found them entertaining to play regardless.
“I’ll be keeping my promise too,” Asahi told you with a firm nod, a determined look crossing his eyes. “Any prize you want, I’ll win it for you!”
“Any prize?” You asked mischievously, teasing him with your tone. Asahi swallowed a little nervously, chuckling at just how easy it was for you to tease him.
“Any,” he repeated, nodding again. “Now come on, you can pick our first game!” He told you happily, his eyes glancing around at the growing number of people joining the area. “If you want,” he said, offering out his arm to you. “I just don’t want you to get lost,” he admitted, a rosiness to his cheeks.
You beamed up at him, needing no excuse to take his arm, “Lucky for me, you’re so tall, I’d be able to spot you if I got separated from you,” you pointed out happily, your eyes scanning the games around you. Bright flashing lights and the sounds of people laughing and talking with each other made you smile, trying to find something that drew your eye.
You and Asahi spent a lot of time laughing at each other, stupidly spending too much money on games that were definitely way too difficult. You both did happen to win some prizes, small little children’s toys and small chocolates at the balloon popping station, little goldfish at the goldfish scooping station (which you both ended up gifting to kids nearby since neither one of you thought it would be good to carry them around with the plans you had ahead of you), and even some cute masks at a stand where you got to pick a ball with a number in it.
Asahi kept nudging you about prizes you may want, eager to be able to gift you something to bring back home with you, “There has to be something you’re looking at,” he smiled, patting your head gently when you insisted that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. The two of you walked some more, your hand soon finding its way to his and your heart trying not to leap out of your chest because his hand was just so soft and calloused at the same time, fitting perfectly with yours. As the two of you walked to other stations, your eyes widened as they noticed a cute plushie stand, “Oooh! I found it! The prize I want!” You laughed, pointing up to the dangling plushie of a cute bear.
“You got it!” Asahi’s face lit up now that he had a target to win. The game was simple enough (or so it looked) - aim the water gun at the target and try to get your bar filled faster than the timer could run out. The first two games that you and Asahi had paid for, you ended up splashing each other a little, and running out of time to hit the target. Giggling like children, you each paid for one more turn and Asahi seemed determined to win this one.
It took a few more tries but Asahi was brimming with pride as he finally got to win you a toy. “I’m starting to think I should’ve just taken you to a toy store and bought you something,” he teased as he helped you put the plushie in your backpack. You giggled as you whirled around a little, still smiling up at him as you posed playfully with the little bear’s head poking out like he was a companion pet.
“Aww but then I wouldn’t get to see how competitive you get,” you joked, poking his arm. “I know you play a competitive sport, Asahi, but honestly, I expected you to give up a long time ago!”
“What? Give up? Pfft,” Asahi waved the idea dismissively, smiling to himself shyly, “Who could give up when you’re smiling at me like that? Totally worth the money.”
“Oh ya?” You laughed, hugging his arm as the two of you started to walk around again. “Well I’ll be extra loving to this plushie, since you got it for me. He’ll have an honorary place on my bed!”
Asahi tried his best not to be jealous of a plushie because it’s not appropriate for you to think like that Asahi, omg please stop thinking like that, he scolded himself internally. But still. Even just seeing how happy you were as you stopped to look at yourself in a nearby mirror, checking out how the bear stuffy looked in your backpack - you were. Adorable. Asahi’s heart was fluttering so bad, it was like a better version of his panic before a volleyball game.
“We’ve still got those chocolates if you’re in the mood,” Asahi remembered suddenly, nodding towards a quieter space of the festival. “Would you like to sit and just eat them?”
You nodded eagerly, the two of you sneaking away from the bright lights and loud sounds, sitting on a park bench and unwrapping tiny chocolates for each other.
“Asahi, isn’t your hair getting annoying?” You asked, noticing how his bun was slowly starting to fall from its original placement.
Asahi blinked, having not even noticed. His hand went to the back of his hand, groaning a little as he realized he must look like a caveman with the way his hair was feeling, “Damn. I think I stretched this one out too much,” he mumbled, tugging the rubber band from his hair.
Your eyes widened as you noticed the elastic that was very much so not meant for hair that he had pulled out from his locks, “Asahi, have you been using office supplies for your hair?” You gaped, snatching from his fingers.
“Y-Yeah? I didn’t have anything else at home,” he admitted sheepishly, feeling like he had committed some sort of a felony the way you were looking at him.
“Asahi! You’ll rip out your hair like that!” You scolded him playfully, tugging your backpack into your lap and digging into one of the smaller pockets. “Here!” You handed him a hair elastic, smiling up at him. “You can keep this one. And here’s another for emergencies or if it stretches out, okay?”
Asahi stared at the black hair ties in his hands like they were gold coins, eyes wide, “Oh… thank you, Y/N!”
You giggled as you watched him swiftly put his hair up, a smile on his face as he wiggled his head and his hair seemed to stay put. He happily wore the other one on his wrist, running his fingers over it slowly. “Now you look extra handsome,” you teased him, laughing at the way his cheeks tinted pink. He shoved your shoulder playfully, bashfully looking away and tugging out the little bag of candies and chocolates the two of you had won.
“I never thanked you for coming with me,” you said suddenly, opening one of the chocolates.
“Thanked me?” Asahi repeated in surprise. “There’s no need to thank you - why wouldn’t I come with you?” He chuckled, plopping a candy into his mouth.
“Honestly? I didn’t think you liked me,” you laughed, watching as Asahi almost choked hearing you.
“What?! Why? How could anyone not like you?”
You giggled as you looked up to the sky, thinking about the first few times you had encountered the big tall third year, “Well when we first met, you would barely look at me. And Suga told me you were scared of me,” you admitted, laughing some more as Asahi groaned.
“Of course he did. I wasn’t… scared of you,” Asahi grumbled nervously. “You were just… you have such a presence around. It was almost too easy to start falling for you.”
Your face was slowly starting to warm up as Asahi admitted these things to you, his cheeks going red, “F-Falling for me?” You repeated in surprise.
“Are you that surprised?” Asahi asked, laughing at your expression this time. “You’re always so supportive of the team, you’re funny, and smart, and you’ve got an incredible smile… could you blame me for falling?”
Your face is more than warm now - it’s burning. You can feel your whole chest tightening as you pinch your arm slightly, surprised that Asahi is saying all this because you can’t deny your feelings for him either, but also because you never expected him to be so upfront about it.
“I’m sorry if I’m being too blunt about it,” he apologized quickly, noting the continued stunned look on your face. “But I can’t let the rest of the team show you just how they feel about you without telling you how I feel about you too,” he smiled, reaching over to pat your head gently. “Is that alright?”
You nodded eagerly, smiling nervously into your lap as you tried to think of what to say, “It’s more than alright, Asahi,” you insisted, taking his hand in yours and playing with his fingers nervously.
Asahi’s heart felt lighter hearing you say that, smiling to himself as he watched you some more because you were just too pretty to take his eyes off of you. The two of you started to walk again, fingers intertwined as you walked down the paths between the festival, talking about what he was thinking about doing after high school, if he wanted to continue playing volleyball, and all the life aspirations you had for yourself down the line.
As the two of you got down to the photobooths station, both of your steps slowed as if both of you were trying to spend just a little bit more time with each other. “I really liked spending time with you, Y/N,” Asahi smiled, reaching down to press a quick kiss on your cheek. “I hope when you look at that bear every day, you’ll think of me in a positive way.”
You smiled up at him, squeezing his hand gently as you tried not to immediately faint at the feeling of his soft lips on your skin, “I don’t think I could ever think of you negatively, Asahi,” you told him, your hands slowly separating. You walked a little ways backwards, the two of you just waving at each other and laughing like little kids at a park before you were swept away in the crowd and Asahi couldn’t see you anymore. He smiled to himself as he felt the ghost presence of your hand still in his, trying to seal the feeling into his memory. His eyes grazed over the hair elastic of yours that was still around his wrist, vowing silently to never take it off unless it was for volleyball practice or a game because you had given it to him and it was probably the best gift he could’ve asked for.
As he walked around the festival to meet up with the others, he decided maybe Daichi had been right - if you had asked him to leave everything behind and just spend the whole day with you, Asahi would’ve left with you in a heartbeat too.
taglist going to be in a reblog because apparently it didn’t work the first time lol
#asahi x reader#azumane asahi x reader#haikyuu x reader#asahi azumane#haikyuu!!#hihqnetwork#karasuno x reader
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Gotham’s Ticklish Prince
This started out as a headcanon, and then it spiraled out of control. You’re welcome.
~~
One day Bruce Wayne makes headlines. This isn’t surprising, or even noteworthy. He’s always making headlines for some silly nonsense he does as Bruce, to draw attention away from Batman. What is surprising is when he walks into the Hall of Justice and sees his face smiling back at him from about 10 different magazines strewn all over the meeting table.
Specifically, he sees himself curling inwards, eyes crinkled, nose scrunched, mouth stretched into a wide surprised smile as Mike, his date to last night’s gala, stands behind him. Thankfully, Mike’s hands are out of frame so no one can tell from the picture that he’s squeezing Bruce’s sides from behind.
“Oh look.” Arthur says, coming out of nowhere with a shit eating grin on his face. “Gotham’s Ticklish Prince decided to show his face.”
If Bruce didn’t have years of training and self discipline under his belt he would have flushed.
A Different magazine comes flying at him and smacks him in the stomach before he can even blink. Bruce catches it on reflex and looks down, only to be met with the headline “Gotham’s Ticklish Prince Has A New Squeeze” and, to his internal horror, it shows a picture snapped about two seconds after the first one. Bruce is clearly laughing in delight as Mike squeezes his sides, in full view of the camera. Several smaller pictures are beneath it, catching Bruce as he latches onto Mikes hands, turns and leans in close to tell him to stop. He didn’t have to flip to page 4, where the story apparently continued, to know what other pictures they surely got. Mike hadn’t stopped after one squeeze, and Bruce was too into character, and for once too unaware of any paparazzo nearby, to make him stop.
He knew he should have skipped the gala last night. Getting only 3 hours of sleep over the course of 4 nights and then slipping into his Bruce persona was always risky. Normally the two whiskies he had wouldn’t affect him at all, but the exhaustion plus the fact that he liked this Mike guy and was feeling comfortable and loose, clearly created a perfect storm. He remembered Mike sneaking up on him, he remember his guard being down just enough for it to catch him unawares and cause a reaction. He remembered how good it felt, but he won’t be letting himself go there. No. No thank you.
What he didn’t remember was the paparazzi being right there.
Or what would happen when those pictures surfaced at HQ.
Bruce finally looked up from the front cover of the Gotham Globe and was met with identical smirks from Arthur and Clark. Well, that explained the newspaper smacking him in the stomach earlier.
“It’s a character.” Bruce said, voice flat as he tossed the magazine onto the conference table. It wouldn’t help his situation if he tried to throw it out or look like he was hiding something.
“Right.” Clark didn’t sound like he was buying it at all. “So you knew you were being recorded. That’s why you put on such a convincing act.”
Recorded?
Recorded?!
Again, Bruce didn’t outwardly react at the news, but inside he was curling into a ball, ready to wither and die at any second. They fucking got that on video?
Naturally, the huge screen on the wall clicks on at the moment, showing a video of Bruce doing something on his phone. He had actually been playing some asinine game as he waited for Mike to come back from the bathroom. Bruce Wayne couldn’t be caught doing anything more than slicing up fruit on his phone, after all.
“I see Victor’s here.” Bruce says dryly, as though his eyes aren’t glued to the screen. His face remains impassive, but inside he’s once again screaming for his past self to turn around as Mike comes into frame behind him. He’s so busy watching Mike smirk and start sneaking up behind him (and, really, how did he not notice this last night? The guy is being so damn obvious about it.) that he doesn’t notice Clark and Arthur inching closer to him on either side.
Bruce feels a hand latch onto either of his sides just as Mike reaches forward and does the same on camera. Thankfully, Bruce’s guard has been up since he first saw his goofy face smiling back at himself when he walked into the room, so he does nothing more than cock an eyebrow and look at first Arthur, and then Clark.
“It’s a character.” He repeats, ignoring the staccato squeezing at one of his worst spots.
“I’m not going to react like he does, even though this tickles like hell. Bruce Wayne is an airheaded goof ball. Batman might be ticklish, but he doesn’t let it show--what the fuck?!” Bruce looked down to see a glittering gold rope wrapped innocently around his ankle. “Diana! What the hell?! I’m going to--” He cut off, clamping his mouth shut as he felt words trying to spill out. Words he most definitely did not want to say in the present company.
“Going to what, Brucie?” Diana asked, smirking as she held the lasso of truth in her hand. Bruce glared daggers at her, lips clamped tightly even as the squeezing on his sides turned to wiggling fingers and, to his horror, he felt his resolve breaking.
“I’m--” Bruce huffed, biting his lower lip to keep from both speaking and laughing. “--I’m going--” His mouth was trying to curve into a smile, but Bruce was nothing if not stubborn and refused to let it happen.
“We’ve almost got him.” Arthur smirked, venturing a little lower and pinching just above Bruce’s hipbone.
Clark noticed the jolt that caused and immediately followed suit on his side.
“I’m-Going-To-Pretend-To-Hate-all-of-you-to-keep-up-my-image.” Bruce was forced to say, as he finally caved and latched onto Arthur and Clark’s hands. Not that it did him any good. He might be The Batman, but outside of his suit he didn’t stand a chance against Superman, Aquaman and Wonder Woman, if she decided to get more hands on.
“You don’t actually hate it, do you.” Clark marveled, giving that spot above his hipbone another gentle pinch. Thank God for his super hearing, because without it he probably would have missed the squeak Bruce let out.
“I-” Again, Bruce was trying to clamp his mouth shut, but it wasn’t very effective since his mouth was stretched into a wide grin. “I have an image to maintain!” It was supposed to come out as a growl, but instead it sounded more like a whine as Bruce’s dam broke and laughter started pouring out of him.
“Well, if you’re trying to maintain the Ticklish Prince of Gotham image, you’re doing a fantastic job.” Arthur mocked him, now fluttering his fingers up and down Bruce’s side rapidly.
Bruce was lost to the laughter, something that hasn’t happened to him since he was a kid. He began backing up, trying to back away from the tickling fingers flying furiously up and down both sides of his body. Absently, he noted that Diana must have let him go because he didn’t trip over the lasso as he tried to get away. He did, however, back himself into the wall without realizing it since his eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to contain the wild laughter pouring out of him.
“Fahahahack!” Bruce cursed himself as Clark and Arthur boxed him in, each still tickling away. Clark was now experimenting with Bruce’s stomach while Arthur, the bastard, was worming his way under Bruce’s arm.
They let him try to defend himself for a minute, wordlessly taunting him as they both danced around his arms with half-hearted attempts to get at his armpits. Finally, Arthur spoke up. “Clark, do you mind doing something about these?” He asked, tracing his fingertips gently up and down Bruce’s forearms. Bruce was well and truly gone if even that tickled like hell.
“Wha-” Bruce asked, laughter starting to die down as he got a short break. He cracked his eyes open, realizing for the first time he had been hunched in on himself, arms clamped down tightly, trying to protect as much of his sides as he could.
“Oh, it’d be my pleasure.” Clark grinned. Lightening fast, he grabbed up Bruce’s wrists in one strong hand and pinned them to the wall above his head. Bruce’s eyes widened comically, too far gone to have any hope of controlling his facial features.
“Hey now.” He said, voice breathy as caught his breath. “You’ve had your fun.” Instead of the gravely voice they’d come to expect, Bruce’s voice was closer to that of his alter ego Bruce Wayne’s now. Nearly high pitched, and just short of panicky as he flexed his arms against the steel grip they were in.
“Tell me Bruce,” Arthur started, fingers slowly crawling up his ribs towards their destination. Bruce’s nerves immediately jumped to attention because they were already so worked up. “Are your armpits ticklish?”
Bruce tried to glare at him, even as his muscles twitched beneath Arthur’s fingers and his mouth started curving into another grin.
“Diana left.” Clark added, grinning at the man he had pinned to the wall. “And she took her lasso with her. I guess we’ll have to find out for ourselves.”
“Fuck.” Was the last coherent thing Bruce said for quite a while.
When Clark and Arthur finally let him go, he slumps to the floor in an exhausted heap and marvels at the last time he laughed that much (The answer: never.) or the last time he felt this exhausted without getting his ass whooped, or whooping someone else’s.
Once he’s regained some of his dignity, Bruce goes to the security feed with the intention of deleting the last hour of footage. He surprised to find it’s already gone, the tapes spliced seamlessly, with only a minor blip to show anything is missing.
Victor, naturally, saved the entire thing to his personal servers. Just in case.
#ticklish!batman#ticklish!brucewayne#tickling#fanfiction#tickling fanfiction#ticklish!dcu#superman#aquaman#batman#wonder woman#cyborg
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Monster
2x08 SPOILERS AND ANGST IM SORRY IM A MESS
~.~
The bars are cold between his clenched sweaty palms. The metal clangs against his throbbing head as his heart pounds and the breath shakes out of him like fresh air will never make it down his lungs again. Blooded hair flicks over his face and the vision of Courtney and Pat’s face doubles before him.
Courtney runs to the bars separating them. Her fists resting on top of his as they cling hard on rust. Panicky promises of help and reassurance she doesn’t know how to give ring in his ears. It’s just noise. Rick doesn’t want to hear it.
“Beth-” She says and Rick freezes. Her name slaps him hard like one of Matt’s hits.
“I don’t want to talk to Beth!” His shout rattles the entire room. “I don’t want to talk to anyone!” Courtney spooks. Pat’s hand yanks her from his reach in the cell. Rick didn’t mean that. He didn’t mean to scare Courtney, he didn’t mean to scream like that. He didn’t mean to get to this bleak point. He didn’t mean to screw his life up like this. He didn’t mean to get close enough to people for them to hurt when he snapped at them. He didn’t mean to develop anything towards Grundy. He didn't mean to try this hard. He didn’t mean to start to forgive. He didn’t mean to destroy his uncle. Not at that moment anyway. Except for the fact he always secretly did. He didn’t mean to ever love anyone enough to disappoint them like this. To care about what he’d done tonight and what it really meant. To feel the hollowness in his chest when he thought about tomorrow. Or the day after. Or every year next.
It’s too late to take that back.
His life is over. His hourglass is smashed to pieces. His dad’s legacy in a rash fit of anger. Gone. Any chance of a future. Gone. The only house Rick ever tried to feel at home in. Gone.
His body shudders as his back meets the far cell wall. His legs go weak as he slides to the ground, hands in his hair. He pulls at it and dry heaves.
It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t real. That girl was real in the lake. Dead eyes up at the grey sky. Bow in her hair. Mud seeped into her skin. Water in her mouth. His parents were real.
Rick hisses in another laboured breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight and fights against the bile that rises from his stomach. Maybe he’ll just let that choke and drown him.
“The kid’s losing it,” an officer rumbles into his walkie talkie, watching him from the corner of his eye.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs and he means it as vomit lands on his worn dirt-stained shoes. And then that’s all he can say before throwing up again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” His uncle’s smashed unrecognizable face flashes fast. The same dark eyes as Mom and the same shade of her hair that tumbled down her shoulders splattered with red gunked blood. Rick’s struck a sudden dose of terror. “I can’t ever go home.” The whisper tumbles out in a shock numb. “I can’t ever go home. Pat! I can’t ever go--” His voice breaks. “I can’t go back there again!”
“Rick, son,” Pat’s voice cuts in. “We’re not going to worry about that right now. We just want-” It distorts out. Rick can’t hear him no matter how hard he strains his ears. The metal bars greet his hands again, he rocks forward. His nose is blocked and his head rages with a migraine so bad his skull is about to split. “I can’t--” Why is he talking about going back home? There is no more home. It’s done. It’s over. There’s no second chance for people like Rick. Each dizzying realization spirals into another. He’s sinking into desperation, and it’s a different kind, a more feral anguish that runs through him like blood. Rick can’t go home. He can’t get his stuff. His uncle is going to take his car. They’re going to rip him out of school. He’s going to get expelled. He’ll have nowhere to live. Nobody is going to want him. Nobody is going to care.
“Rick-”
Rick does want Beth. The force of the need tears up his insides. He does want her. He wants her so bad he can’t even walk straight. Can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t blink clearly. Courtney passes him a towel and clean shirt through the holding cell bars. What is he supposed to do with it? He can’t even think straight. His nerves are shot. His entire world is over. There’s nothing left. He can strip off the shirt and the shoes and wash the mess and grime and evidence of his crimes. But it won’t strip Rick from the truth. Of what he really is. What he’s always been capable of. Who he was always meant to become.
“Rick!? Rick!? I heard what happened, I’m on my way.”
The phone in his hand is Pat’s. He’s not sure when it got there. Or how long she’s been talking in his ear.
“Beth?” he croaks.
“Rick. It’s me. My dad is driving me to the station. I’m almost there.” Rick looks up at Pat and Courtney. The curious police officer as they mirror back his helpless shocked-blank face. “I’m almost there,” she says again.
His heart rips out like a cord.
He can’t let her see this. She can’t be here. After what she thought about Yolanda? Beth’ll take one look at him and change every positive thought she’s ever had. Stop ever sending one of her smiles his way.
Please stay home, he almost begs. But the words get lodged, stuck in his acid-burnt throat. What’s the use. Beth already knows. He can’t change anything now. Beth will see what he’s become. She’ll see the ugliness he truly is.
Her voice is scared but firm. Strong. She’d always been. Beth was always and Rick was not.
“Rick? Please. Please say something. You can talk to me.”
The exhaustion attacks him. The thoughts scatter and it gets too hard. He can’t process, can’t function. Can’t fucking live.
The side-door moves. A red checkered shirt blurs in front of his eyes. Two hands clasped over his hands again, squeezing warmth and life and hope he doesn’t deserve through jail bars. He blinks and focuses. The sliver of relief vanishes in thin air.
It’s not even Beth’s eyes. The green goggles lit up between them. Beth’s too scared. Too afraid to even be fucking face to face with the monster he’s become.
Rick sobs.
#hn talks#stargirl#stargirl lb#stargirl spoilers#hn lb#dctv#2x08#s2#hn fic#hournite#rick x beth#hournites fic#tkv fic
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Prompt! After seeing that ball gag in the basketball hoop in their room, I’m hilariously imagining Franny wandering downstairs with it during breakfast or something and everyone freaks out about it, or something similar lol
Forewarning: As you could’ve guessed, this one is pretty dirty. In fact, I’ll probably never recover from writing some of these words. You’ll know which ones I mean. Damn it, Shameless, why are these things canon?!
---
They were talking again. Loud, like they didn’t give two shits who could hear them, even though the house was full of people.
Lately, it’d become almost nonstop, and Debbie had just about enough of it – and them.
“Take it, you insatiable slut!”
“Yes, fuckin’ impale me with your monster cock!”
As she stood behind the closed accordion door, which frankly did nothing to silence all the bizarre exclamations and assorted sex noises, she scrunched her face in disgust. Thankfully, her ears only felt like they were bleeding, and the real damage was happening just to her inner calm.
This time, Ian and Mickey were going at it at half past seven on a Sunday, throwing around words that would make even the creators of bad pornos cringe.
They’d been on her shitlist ever since she found several dried come stains on her lilac bath robe, and really, her frustration with them only grew stronger from there. It was one thing that they apparently made sex into a full-time hobby; sounding like absolute perverts throughout their daily (and nightly) numerous rounds was another.
Debbie could take it no more. She was long past the point of finding it funny. There were now very specific, lewd details about her older brother forever embedded in her mind – and she fondly looked back at the days when Ian was still behind bars and dearly missed.
Checking that her palm was covering Franny’s eyes, she squeezed her own eyes tightly before getting a blind hold on the accordion door. She yanked it open, immediately causing the verbal vomit to stop.
“The actual fuck, Debbie!”
She heard scrambling and annoyed groans and, eventually, to what sounded like a fight over the comforter, the bed creaked as someone got off it. She took that as her cue and secured her hold on Franny, who started to dig her little fingers into Debbie’s palm.
“I’ve had it with you two assholes!” she raged, using her free hand to gesticulate wildly. “I was fine with the exaggerated moans and the fact that seeing your ugly naked asses around on a daily basis was now a given, but if I have to hear the words uber-masculine slut and dom top daddy one more time, I’m gonna make sure you won’t be able to stick your dicks anywhere. For a long time.”
She paused, becoming faintly aware that someone was hurriedly trying to get dressed somewhere to her left.
“Now, I’m gonna go back to bed,” she continued, much calmer, satisfied that her case was being heard without protests, “and you’re gonna watch Franny because you both owe me. Big time.”
The room was silent, the atmosphere tense. Debbie let out a frustrated huff.
“Just tell me when,” she prompted, too scared to open her eyes.
For a second, it seemed like Ian and Mickey argued without saying a thing out loud. Then, settling on whatever, Ian cleared his throat.
“Yeah.”
Debbie immediately regretted not leaving without sparing them another glance. Because while Ian was at least dressed, standing in front of her in his boxers and a T-shirt that was both too tight and inside-out, Mickey sat on the bed only with the comforter bunched in his lap.
They were both sweaty and out of breath, and Debbie felt herself flush when she noticed the visible handprints on Mickey’s neck.
Still, she recovered fast, piercing them both alternately with a hard stare. “Can’t believe I even have to say this, but no fucking in front of my kid!” she warned, pointing her finger at them.
---
The slam of Debbie’s bedroom door successfully burst the strange bubble they got themselves caught up in. Their eyes instantly snapped to each other.
“I call shower,” Ian announced plainly.
“Fuck you, I call shower first,” Mickey countered. “I was about to bust a nut anyway.”
“What’s bustanut?”
It was the first thing they heard Franny say, and, yeah, Debbie was definitely going to break both of their dicks after this, wasn’t she?
“Well, Franny,” Ian started as he leaned down to her, maneuvering her a little so that she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of Mickey’s naked form as he untangled himself from the comforter, “that’s a thing adults say when they have to brush their teeth. And your Uncle Mickey has a really stinky breath this morning.”
“Like you’re one to talk, bitch.”
Ian looked up to Mickey poking his tongue in his cheek, his loosely curled fist moving in front of his face in a rather obvious motion. He shot him a glare, but Mickey just pulled his boxers up and left the room, chuckling.
The good news was that Franny seemed content with that. Shrugging her shoulders, she hopped on their rumpled bed and started jumping on it. Ian decided it was better than having to crack the ol’ concept of male ejaculation to her on an early Sunday morning and went about his routine as usual.
It didn’t take long until something else caught Franny’s attention and she started making low frustrated noises.
Putting on his deodorant, Ian watched in the mirror as she struggled with the cap of their lube.
“Is this a special sauce?” she asked, all bright-eyed and curious.
Ian snickered. Franny knew all about special sauces ever since Liam started experimenting with making his own in the kitchen a few weeks ago.
“Yeah, I guess it kinda is a special sauce, in a way,” he replied amusedly. “Uncle Mickey says he doesn’t like it, but he’s a filthy liar.”
“Smells like strawberries.”
“Yeah, it does.” He turned, grinning at her. “Nice, huh?”
She held the tube out for him. “Can I try?”
Instead of opening it for her like she probably expected, Ian took it from her and shoved it in the closest drawer.
“Maybe in a few years.”
Franny sighed dramatically, and Ian observed in real-time as he started losing his fun uncle points with her. But it didn’t matter how pouty she got; he couldn’t actually let her play with their lube. Mickey was right – that shit was expensive.
It only took about a minute this time before she got bored again. Kicking the bed involuntarily with her feet hanging over its edge, she scanned the messy room. Finally, her eyes fell on a black leathery thing laid on top of the laundry basket by the bed.
“What’s that?”
Ian pursed his lips as he thought of the best answer, but before he could give her any, he got interrupted.
“It’s a ball gag,” Mickey supplied as he strode into the room with only a towel around his hips. His hair was wet, and the unashamedly self-satisfied smirk on his face had Ian roll his eyes.
“What’s a ball gag?”
“It’s—”
“A toy!” Ian said, a little panicky. “A toy that Uncle Ian and Uncle Mickey like to play with. Especially Uncle Mickey.”
Pausing on his way to their closet, Mickey smacked Ian’s ass. Waggling his eyebrows, he then leaned in to lightly peck his cheek.
“You betcha.”
Franny’s eyes widened with excitement. “Can I play, too?”
She got her hands on the contraption at the same time as Ian, who at first tried to scare her off with a stern look. Failing that, he started pulling on the strap, giving out a somewhat tentative laugh.
“Really not a good idea.”
“I wanna play, too! Please!”
“Franny—”
With an ear-splitting screech, she slipped the ball gag from Ian’s grasp and set off running out of the room.
“Crap,” Ian muttered, slapping hard at Mickey’s arm when he had the nerve to chuckle. “Dumbass, your dick’s on the line here, too, you know?”
In the kitchen, he found Franny making rounds around the table; the sex toy held over her head victoriously like a golden trophy. Thankfully, the only person sitting there was Lip, who seemed genuinely entertained by the sudden spectacle.
“Uncle Lip, Uncle Lip, do you wanna play with my ball gag?” Franny asked mid-run.
“Uh, maybe later?” Still smiling, Lip shot his brother a look, pointedly raising a brow.
“Franny?” Ian tried playing nice with a sing-song voice. When the kid slipped past him over and over again, he decided to change his tactics. “Franny! Gimme that!”
“No!” she yelled stubbornly as she took off toward the living room. Unluckily for her, that’s where Mickey, having come down the other set of stairs, caught her.
As he walked back with her, he held her under his arm so that her tiny legs kicked the air behind his back as she tried to wiggle free. “Sorry, kid, but Uncle Mickey doesn’t share his toys,” he told her as he settled her down in the kitchen.
Lip sniggered into his mug.
“So, breakfast?” Mickey suggested after he passed the ball gag to Ian. “I’m fuckin’ starving.”
While Ian hid the sex toy upstairs, Mickey made Pop-Tarts. And Franny, being the good girl she was, sat there through all that and quietly sulked.
Then, after nibbling on her breakfast for some time, she stood up resolutely.
“I’m gonna go bustanut,” she stated loudly, nearly prompting Lip to choke on his coffee.
He watched as Mickey cackled, and shook his head.
“Debbie’s gonna kill you both, you know?”
Mickey just smirked. “Can’t wait to see her try.”
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How about a lil overhaul? Maybe his s/o is just someone from america on a trip and cant speak japanese. But he is like. Mine. She was quirkless and was coming to visit Japan to see a family member. Maybe that family member sold her to overhaul to pay off a debt? She is just so confused and cant understand most of the people here, she wants to go back to America.
So I kinda went a little off track with this request, but I hope you like it!
Overhaul x Reader
TW kidnapping, murder, minor blood/gore
Collateral
It’s a bit of a surprise the day that you get your ticket in the mail. You’ve never been particularly close with your uncle. It’s not that you don’t like him or anything, it’s just… you don’t really know him. He’s lived on the other side of the Pacific Ocean since long before you were born, and you’ve only met him face to face a handful of times.
And now he wants you - just you - to come stay with him for a little while. As long as you want, the return ticket’s flexible, the email says.
Your family’s just as flummoxed as you, he and your dad have never exactly been close - something about a big fallout when they were younger, but he’s the one to convince you to go.
“Your uncle hasn’t exactly had the easiest life, sweetheart. He’s all alone over there, has been for a long, long time and he’s made a lot of bad decisions in the past but… you’re his only niece,” he sighs, cupping your cheek with a sad smile. “Maybe he wants a fresh start, to build a relationship with you - he’s missed so much of your life.”
It’s not so much his words that get to you, but the wistful look in his eyes as he says them. Your heart aches for him, for them both, and you find yourself nodding along.
A trip to Japan sounds nice.
Getting to know your uncle sounds even nicer.
A week later, you’re on the plane flying over the Pacific, the nerves in your stomach growing with each mile that passes beneath you.
It’ll be fine, you reason, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from your skirt as the plane starts its descent into Tokyo. Things might be a little awkward at first, but your uncle wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t want to make a genuine effort, and your parents were only a phone call away if anything went wrong.
Not that anything would. He’s family - that means something.
“If it gets too much, you can always come home,” your dad had whispered as you bid him farewell at the gate.
But when you get off the plane, grab your luggage and make your way out through the gate, there’s no sign of your uncle standing in the crowd. You frown, scanning the arrivals hall again - he called your parents yesterday to tell them he’d be picking you up from the airport.
A flutter of uneasiness teases at your gut, but you force yourself to keep the smile on your face as you continue to scour the throng of waiting friends and family. You did land a little ahead of schedule, and getting through customs had taken less time than you thought, maybe he was just running late, or trying to find a park. Your uncle had given you a phone number to call if anything went wrong but… you don’t want to come across as panicky. It’s only been a few minutes, after all.
You’re so focused on trying to find him that you almost miss the crisply dressed driver holding a sign with your name just by the sliding doors. He doesn’t say anything when you approach cautiously, eyes still darting around like you’re expecting to see your uncle behind him. He doesn’t look like what you expected - not that you were expecting a driver at all - but the clearly expensive black suit and blank stare as he regards you are a little… off putting, to say the least. From your understanding your uncle wasn’t exactly made of money, so why send a driver at all?
“Um, hi… I’m Y/N, did my uncle send you? I-is he not coming?” you say, praying that the man understands English and you’re not making an idiot out of yourself.
The driver nods sharply, “He was unable to collect you himself.”
Oh.
Your smile falters just a touch, but you find yourself nodding out of politeness. It’s fine. You have all the time in the world to spend with your uncle. “Oh, alright. Um-”
The driver grabs the suitcase from your side before you can stop him, turning abruptly on his heel and walking away, leaving you to rush after him, cheeks dusting pink.
Except the driver doesn’t take you to the small apartment on the outskirts of the city your uncle had told you about.
***
You’ve never been more terrified in your life.
It’s been a week, you think - it’s hard to tell when the room they keep you in doesn’t have any windows and the food they deliver doesn’t come at regular intervals.
A week since the driver pulled you shaking from the back seat of the black and manhandled you inside a dark warehouse. A week since you met him.
You still don’t know his name.
He’s the boss - you’ve figured that much out at least. He was the one whose feet you were tossed at when you arrived - shaking, crying and pleading.
You can still remember the chill that crept up your spine as those impassive gold eyes stared at you, his mouth hidden behind that ridiculous plague mask. Sitting on an old, worn leather couch, dressed in all black save for the grey tie around his neck and the white surgical gloves on his hands, what startled you the most (aside from the mask) was how young he was - he couldn’t have been more than a year or so older than you at the most, and yet every single person in the warehouse was staring at him with the utmost respect.
He’d ignored your tears and the trembling questions that had fallen from your lips as he’d stood and walked a slow circle around you, eyes running you up and down like a vulture eyeing off its prey. He hadn’t touched you, only gesturing once for his subordinates to wrestle you back up into a standing position before he finished his apparent appraisal.
When he’d spoken it was an order barked coldly in Japanese, but his eyes had flickered back to you as hands had gripped your arms, and in the split second before you were tugged from the room, you could have sworn that there was the faintest hint of dark pleasure shining through.
He’s come to visit you a few times since. He always keeps his distance, sitting on the sole chair in your sterile room as you huddled up on the bed like a frightened kitten, putting as much space between the two of you as possible.
He seems to enjoy that; your fear.
It’s the second time he comes to visit that he starts to talk to you - not in English, no, despite you making it abundantly clear you had absolutely no understanding of the language beyond a few conversational phrases, he only ever speaks Japanese.
He seems to enjoy that too - the blank, nervous look in your eyes whenever he starts to speak with you. His tone could be considered light and friendly, conversational almost, if not for the cruel edge to his words that transcends the language barrier - with every word he’s mocking you, and he wants you to know it.
The first time you leave your sterile room it’s when two of his masked entourage come to take you up into what looks like a surgical suite. There’s a man strapped to a gurney under a bright operating light sobbing, thrashing fruitlessly against his binds and immediately there’s a wave of dread that floods your stomach. The two men who took you hold you firmly in place by your shoulders, but you can’t help but jump a little when that familiar voice starts to speak.
He comes out of the shadows, golden eyes fixed solely on you. It’s a speech of some sort, though whether it’s for your benefit, his followers’ or the now screaming man’s before him you honestly don’t know. Sweat builds at your temple as the masked leader lifts his hands and slowly tugs off the white surgical gloves.
You don’t know what’s about to happen, only that you desperately want to stop it. One of the men behind you chuckles and you bite your lip to stifle a cry - there’s no point, you can’t move, you can’t escape this - whatever it is that’s about to happen.
The screams reach fever pitch, the man thrashing hard enough to make the gurney shake, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference. Your heart skips a beat as the auburn haired leader stares dispassionately down at him and with a sigh - places his bare palm against his flesh.
The result is instantaneous.
The scream cuts off. Blood splatters over the walls, over you, as the man is simply, brutally, torn apart by the Quirk.
And all the while, the monster simply watches you.
You understand him perfectly this time. It’s a demonstration, a reminder of why one so young sits at the head of an illicit organisation and what exactly the punishment might be should you fail to remember that.
They take you for a shower afterwards, and you’ve never been more grateful for it. You scrub at your skin until it's raw, desperately trying to wash the taint of blood from your skin. It doesn’t seem to make a difference, it stays with you every time you close your eyes.
You cry yourself to sleep that night, clutching tightly at the thin, blanket you’d been given and thinking desperately of home and your family.
He’s sitting in the same plastic chair when you wake up, except this time it’s been pulled up right beside the bed. He regards you silently for a moment, watching as your eyes widen and fear slowly creeps across your features, but you don’t flinch, you don’t try and scamper away. You only pull the blanket up slightly, as if to protect what last vestiges of modesty you have from him.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asks in flawless English.
You jerk back in surprise. He-
What?!
Of course he speaks English. Of course his continued insistence on speaking a language you didn’t understand was nothing more than a ploy to make you feel vulnerable and inferior.
Utterly isolated.
A spark of anger flashes through you, but you quickly tamp it down, the memory of blood and disassembled body parts all too fresh in your mind.
He seems to be waiting for an answer to his question, so you give a minute nod. You’ve been here long enough to put the puzzle pieces together.
“Your uncle managed to rack up quite the impressive debt from us - a debt he couldn’t pay when it came due. He offered us you, his niece, instead. A pretty, young American girl, Quirkless… pure,” he sighs.
Each word hits you like a slap in the face and you can feel the unshed tears stinging in the corners of your eyes. It’s nothing you haven’t already figured out, but to be confronted with the truth, that your own flesh and blood (however estranged) had sold you out to save his skin, hurts more than you care to admit.
Oblivious to your internal suffering, or maybe just indifferent to it, your captor continues. “I had planned on selling you. You’d be surprised what some of the degenerate filth in this city would be willing to pay for some beautiful, defenceless, foreign doll for them to stick their cocks into.”
Something close to amusement flickers in his eyes and he laughs as your face blanches in mute horror. He leans forward, gloved hands reaching for your face and you freeze with a choked gasp-
But he merely brushes at your cheek with the back of his knuckles, collecting a single stray tear that had slipped from your eyes without you even realising. “You don’t need to look so worried, Y/N. I thought you would have realised by now - you’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, and I’ve figured out a much better use for you.” It’s hard to tell with the gaudy mask obscuring half his face, but you could swear that beneath it all, your captor’s grinning. “My pretty little pet.”
#yandere bnha#yandere overhaul#yandere overhaul x reader#yandere chisaki kai x reader#yandere chisaki kai#yandere mha#my writing#overhaul#yandere fic#tw kidnapping#tw murder#tw minor blood/gore#request#zombi-vomit
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the right moment
spencer reid x reader
summary ↠ for months, spencer has waited for the right time to propose to the reader. before he gets the chance, he gets in trouble in mexico.
category ↠ angst/fluff
warnings/includes ↠ prison reid arc,
word count ↠ 2.4k
“but if I sit in the rain, maybe I can drown in something other than my thoughts.” — j.w
For 8 months now, Spencer had been carrying the little velvet red box in his pocket. It was near enough always with him, almost weighing him down. For 8 months he had waited for the so called ‘right’ moment to propose to his long term girlfriend. Y/N was none the wiser, not even realising her boyfriend was even considering proposing, let alone had carried the ring around in every pair of bottoms he wore.
Before meeting and falling in love with Y/N, Spencer thought all this talk about there being a ‘right’ moment to propose was silly. Wasn’t it just as easy as getting down on one knee and asking?
Spencer liked to remind himself he once thought that way. How wrong he was. He couldn’t have guessed just how damn nervous he would get. Palms sweaty and breaths heavy, he was just so fucking nervous and he couldn’t figure out why. A big genius brain and he couldn’t pull it together long enough to ask the woman he loved to marry him. The ‘right’ moment never seemed to come. Sometimes he looked at her, looking so beautiful in whatever dress she’d worn to date night and he thought, “Okay, this is it, I’m gonna do it” but his nerves got in the way and when he could finally breathe normally, the moment was gone.
As if he didn’t feel like enough of a coward, the relentless teasing from the team didn’t help.
He’d walk in to the bullpen in the morning and be immediatley bombarded with questions.
Garcia would be first, nearly choking on her morning coffee in excitment as he walked in. “Dr Reid!” She exclaimed, making Spencer wince and prepare himself. “As you know, I got lunch the other day with your gorgeous girlfriend, and couldn’t help but notice there’s still no ring on her finger.” She questioned.
Spencer had simply chuckled, shaking his head. “Im working on it, Garcia. I promise.” He hoped that his response had satisfied the team enough to leave him alone, but no. Derek emerged from the meeting room, a shit-eating grin on is face.
“Hey there, pretty boy. You made that stunning lady your fiancee yet?”
Spencer just shook his head and huffed.
“You do plan on proposing sometime this decade, right Reid?” He teased, as JJ came up behind him.
“You’ve still not done it? Come on, Spence!” JJ laughed. “Y/N will say yes, I’ve told you a hundred times!” She was the one Spencer had asked to go with him to chose the ring all those months ago. “That ring is too beautiful to sit in a box forever, so get on with it!”
Whilst he pretty much always carried the ring with him, the only exception was in the field. It was much too precious to lose while chasing an unsub. Although as soon as they were on the jet on the way home, he would fumble with the box in his hands as he stared out the window. The team would share a look. As much as they teased him, they were really just trying to persuade him to do it. Though, they could clearly see how nervous the young doctor really was. It was sweet, as much as it was silly. Spencer feared rejection, but the team all knew Y/N well enough to know that she wouldn’t waste a second saying yes when he asked.
He planned to make it a big moment, a fancy dinner, ending with them back at their apartment, with rose petals scattering the bed, the room lit with candles. But if it wasn’t his stupid nerves getting in the way, it was his work.
First it was him nearly dying at the hands of Cat Adams. That night, he just felt lucky to be able to go home to Y/N, who was waiting with her arms open for him to crash into. Then it was Morgan leaving the team to be there for his son, which Spencer wholeheartedly understood. He knew that if him and Y/N had a baby, he’d definitley consider making the same decision. But again, after effectively losing his best friend, Reid figured it wasn’t the time for a proposal.
Finally, the time came where he finally thought he’s was going to do it. He set a date, making preparations a week in advance. He ordered a dozen red roses and vanilla scented candles for the occassion, he planned their entire evening to a T. It would be perfect. Nothing could go wrong.
but then everything did.
His mother was only getting worse, and he decided to make one last trip to Mexico before he proposed. Y/N knew where he was going, and whilst she understood it was for his mother, she couldn’t help but worry. He’d soothed her worries with a kiss to the forehead, promising he’d be back in a few days.
Next thing he knew, he was being held in Mexico on murder and drug charges. Emily was there and he could see how hard she was trying to help, the rest of the team were aswell, but Spencer was clueless as to how he got there, missing periods of time from his memory. He was appreciative of the teams attempts to help but he knew how these things went.
As he stared at the greying walls of the holding cell, he couldn’t help but regret not proposing when he had the chance. Now he might never get one.
She was there to meet him when Emily managed to bring him back to Quantico, tears rolling down her cheeks as she hugged him tightly. He hated how the cuffs over his hands prevented him from holding her. He tried to soothe her, and Emily promised that everything would be okay. All he could think about was the little red box sat in his bedside table drawer at home.
He didn’t get to see her again until they were at the courthouse and he was denied bail. He watched how her face fell and the tears spilled as he was dragged away. He called out to her. “I love you so much.” and then he was gone.
He let her visit him in prison. At first he thought it might be selfish, he didn’t really want the men in there looking at her. But he needed to see her, she was the only thing holding him together, keeping him from completely giving up and falling apart.
His eyes connected to hers through the glass that separated them as she took a seat, offering a smile that she hoped would reassure him she was okay.
“Hi.”
“Hey, baby.” He murmured, and his arms ached to hold her in any way, to even just graze his thumb over her fingers.
“I miss you.” She whimpered, and he could see how strong she was trying to be for him. He thought she was so incredibly strong. He knew he’d break down if the shoe was on the other foot.
“I miss you too sweetheart.” He said it as a promise. A promise he would get out. When he sat in his cell at night, he promised to himself every night for three months, that should he ever make it out he would waste no time getting down on one knee.
When he was finally free, she waited anxiously outside the prison, Garcia holding her hand comfortingly. He walked through the gates and it was mere seconds before she was running to him, throwing her arms around him. He’d held her so tightly, the light of his life, the first light he’d seen or felt in 3 months. When they pulled apart he’d kissed her lips, just a peck that was over just as it started, but it was enough for the moment.
“I love you,” He whispered, again and again like a mantra for only her to hear.
He wished they had more time, more time to be together and love one another, but right now they had bigger problems. Later he would kiss her for hours and hold her to his hearts content, but his mind was plagued with worry for his mother, his only focus was making sure she was safe. Spencer didn’t stop touching Y/N the whole ride to the BAU building, always touching her in some way. He’d been so starved of touch in that prison and being able to hold her was something he would never take for granted again. His arm was around her shoulders and he held her hand as they rode in the back of the SUV. She tried desperately to calm him, as she could see how panicky he was getting at the thought of losing his mother. She just kissed his hand reassuringly, and he was thankful for the gesture, kissing her forehead in return.
After they saved Diana and won Cat Adams little game, Spencer finally felt at home when he stepped through the front door of their home, Y/N by his side. It was late, but he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to just be with her. He insisted they lay together in bed, and she told him everything he missed in prison that she couldn’t talk about during her visits. He just wanted to listen to her talk, to engrain the sound of her voice into his brain and hope he never had to go without it ever again. They laid there, her head on his shoulder and his arms around her as she rambled about nothing in particular. He didn’t pay much attention, instead watching her face. He reacquainted himself with the features he’d missed, the blush of her cheeks and the curve of her Cupid’s bow, her beautiful eyes and perfect smile. Spencer was convinced he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life and before he could even think about it-
“Marry me.”
Y/N had stopped rambling mid-sentence, shock covering her face. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide.
“W-what?” She asked, her voice a tiny whisper.
He smiled, moving himself from underneath her. He turned to the side, and began rummaging around his bedside drawer.
She sat up, hands coming up to cover her mouth when she saw him. Spencer was on the floor beside the bed on one knee, red velvet box open in hand, showcasing the most beautiful diamond ring Y/N had ever seen.
“Y/N. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time now. I’ve been sure I wanted to marry you for a long time as well, ask the team, they’ll tell you I’ve carried this ring with me every day for nearly a year, waiting for the right moment.” He chuckled to himself. How stupid of him was that? “If prison taught me anything, it’s that time is so precious. In that cell I replayed every moment with you, every time I wish I’d got down on one knee and asked you then instead of waiting. I was so scared I would never get the chance. Which is why now that I have it, I’m taking it.” He finished, and tears were beginning to well in his own eyes.
“So, Y/N Y/L/N, Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” She whispered, nodding frantically, and only once he’d slipped the ring on her finger did he realise he’d been holding his breath. He stood up as she moved to the edge of the bed to hug him. Her arms went around his neck and he held her securely at her waist. He lifted her from the bed, spinning her as they laughed. He noted that this was the most happiness he’d felt in months now. They pulled back as he set her down and she had tears running down her cheeks but he knew they were happy because of the smile on her face. She looked up at him, and he slowly leaned down, capturing her lips with his.
He realised that it was the first proper kiss they’d had in months, and in response his hands gripped tighter on her waist as the kiss got more passionate, her hands coming to trail down his chest. She could tell that he wanted to go further and so she pulled away.
He pouted, and she smiled at him but he could see the concern on her face.
“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly.
“As happy as I am right now, Spence..” She trailed off, trying to figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. “You just got out of prison. I know how difficult it was for you in there, and we’re going to have to talk about it sometime. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you right now, it’s all still so fresh.”
He nodded his head. “I know we have to talk about it, just not tonight please.” His voice was tired and pleading. “But you’re not taking advantage of me, I promise. I missed you so much in there. Let me show you how much.” He murmured as he began to place kisses down her neck.
“Are you sure you feel up to doing.. this?” She asked one more time, she had to be absoloutley sure. She’d missed him too, of course. Though the last three months of his life had been downright horrific and she needed him to be certain.
He smiled against her neck at her concern, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. I know you’re worried and I’m so grateful that you’re so concerned but right now, I just want to make love to my fiancée. ” He mumbled, kissing her forehead in a sweet, reassuring gesture.
She smiled, satisfied with his answer. Detatching herself from him, she sat on the bed again, moving backwards. “Well then, Dr.Reid. Get on with it.” She smirked, laughing a little as she laid on her back. He shook his head with a chuckle, moving to hover over her.
“Anything for you, future Mrs Reid.” He smiled at the name.
“Oh, ‘Mrs Reid’, I like the sound of that.” She giggled, placing her arms around his neck.
As Spencer looked down at her, his heart swelled with pride and happiness. He was finally getting his happy ending, and it was a well deserved one. He’d go through all the pain and suffering all over again if it would lead him to that moment.
“So do I.”
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#matthew gray gubler x reader#Matthew Gray Gubler#mgg x reader#mgg#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#bau
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BirdMonster? (Quincey) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)
(I don’t have a species name yet for my lovely weirdo bird-ish shadow babies-- but I hope you enjoy the story!!)
You look down at your phone, chewing on your lip, reading and re-reading the text message that lay on its glassy screen.
“Hey! I heard you moved to the city, how have you been? =D I wanna hear all about it!”
You didn’t have the heart to respond this morning when you first saw the message. And you felt even less sure of yourself as you looked at it now. “It’s going okay,” You finally type out, you type a bit more, but then thinking better of it, you hastily start tapping your thumb on the 'x' to delete it.
You run head first into someone's back and you blink, backing away quickly, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” The shadowy figure turns around and his wide multicolored glowing eyes peer at you. A cigarette wiggles in his beak like maw. “Ey Nicky, look who it is! It’s tha hooman!” You wince and put your hands up nervously, as they lean forward curiously, their four hands resting on his waist and hips. “I’m really, really sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you--” “What have I told you about that!” You blink looking to the one beside him, they were short and chubby with a shorter beak that was slightly hooked on the end. Their hand flying up to swat at the taller figure. “Whatta keep tellin’ ya about them manners! You don’t say that! It’s rude!” “Ey! Ey! I’m sorreh! Jeeze Nicky!” The taller one complained in their high voice, “Why ya gotta slap at me! They were the one that ran inta me first!!” He jerks his thumb back at you before blinking and scratching his head with a hand, “Eh. . . they were right here. . . where’d they go?”
You had made a quick escape around the corner, breathing heavily before you looked down at your shoes and bit your lip. There weren’t that many humans around here, and you have been stared at enough by the residents to beat a hasty retreat when you were afraid of causing a scene. You shouldered your bag and continued down the path, your eyes peering around as you stuffed your phone into your pocket. It was a small city and many of the residents here, were these shadowy bird creatures. They had four arms and 4-6 eyes depending on their mood, covered in a very dark fluff that you weren’t able to discern if it was fur or feathers. With their luminous eyes and slick shadow like silhouettes, you stuck out like a sore thumb around them. At first you had been excited to live here, learn about them, but when you realized you were the one being stared at, you began to lose your social resolve. You stop walking, pausing in front of a walk sign and waiting for the light to turn as you shove your hands in your pockets. You had come here to make a new start, get away from your old town and the memories you had there, but with a new town came new problems. You hurry across the road, walking down the strip to turn into a little bookstore.
You can see faint wisps of lilac smoke in the air and you give a little smile, you were able to make one friend so far, and you rather liked him. He sat at the front desk reading a book, his legs propped onto the countertop. His luminous eyes looking up. “Hey angel, how’s the city life treatin’ ya today?” You sigh and slump your bag onto the floor, “Horrible,” you mumble, “I ran into someone today Quincey, like actually. . . RAN into them. Way to go me. . .” “Ey, don’t say that.” Their cool voice replies from behind their book, “You were probably lost in your thoughts, and that's one of your best qualities.” You look at him, before giving a little smile. “You think so?” “I know so sweetheart. You’re a really deep thinker,” You stepping around the counter to put on an apron with the book store's logo stamped on it. “Has it been busy today?” Quincey chuckles, “Nope. ’S been dead all day.” You peeked at the stack of books sitting beside his crossed feet on the counter before you gave a little laugh, “I can see that. . . it looks like you’ve been reading your books more than selling them.” “Mmhm, if you want to, you can go home if you want.” You think back to the two others you ran into on the street and you shake your head, “No. . . I think I need to get out of there for a while.” “Feel free to hang around as long as you want, then. I could use th’ company.”
You watch him read, his face buried in his book. You give a soft smile and nod appreciatively, you take a deep breath. “ Ah. . . Hey Quince, I was wondering, what are those things you smoke all the time?” Quincey looks up, “It’s a cigarette sweetheart. Don’tcha have them things back home?” You give him a look and smile, “Yeah. . . but they have rat poison in them and they smell awful, and they don’t give off purple smoke either.” Quincey’s eyes shift in number, as he blinks, taking the cigarette out of his jagged mouth and looking it over appalled, “Rat poison?” You giggle and rest your elbows on the table, “Yu~p! And they cause lung cancer and--” “Quincey waves his hands, “Urk, yeh, I’ve heard enough. I don’t wanna hear no more.” You giggle again as he hastily stamps it out. “Well, the ones back home do anyway, I don’t know what they make those kind with. It smells different. . . almost floral” You say thoughtfully, “I dunna sweets but I’m gonna look that up, I don’t wanna be killing myself with no rat poison,” You smile, collecting the stack of pre-read books into your arms and wandering further back into the shop to put them away. You scan the shelves, carefully sliding them back into their homes.
You breath in the dry air with a smile, you were so thankful to work here, and thankful to find a friend. Quincey was kind, and understanding. When you first moved here, you had a moment of feeling distraught and panicky about the stress that was piling up in your life. You had started crying while you were working up front at the register and Quincey had been quick to send you to the backroom and tack over while you could sit in peace and cry it out. He had popped his head around the corner with a mug of tea. Sitting down to speak with you, his legs crossed as the two of you talked. You told him everything, why you left home, how hard everything had been and how desperate you had been to start anew. You spilled everything that had been warring inside your heart, going a mile a minute as your nerves had skyrocketed. But he listened through everything, nodding solemnly as he watched you with concern. You had felt guilty about that, just exploding your life worries on someone you just met, but Quincey had been someone you felt treasured to have now. He didn’t judge, he didn’t even really question. He didn’t ask for anything in return, and he didn’t try to make you feel like you had to act a certain way. You could just be. . . you. Having such a sturdy positive force in your life wasn’t something you were used to. You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you smile softly to yourself.
You finished putting the books away, grabbing a broom to start sweeping the floors. Your mind slowly turns towards work and what needs to be done. Since it was slow today, you could focus on cleaning all the things you had been neglecting. Moving around the shelves and pulling out chairs so you could sweep underneath them. As you head up towards the front desk, you hear Quincey get up from his chair. Stretching his four arms as he bows backwards. “I see ya already grabbed my books, thanks for that.” “Oh,” you respond offhandedly, “No problem, I was already up,” “I was thinking about closin’’ up th’ shop earlier, it doesn’t look like anyone will be coming through.” You perk up cheerfully and beam. “What time were you thinking about closing?” Quincey eyes the clock on the wall, and squints. “Eh. . . Soon, I’m thinking, about an hour or so, no use wastin’ electricity if no one comes in.” You hum in response, keeping your head down as you sweep a pile of dust onto the dust pan. “And. . .” He began hesitantly, “I was wonderin’ if you would like to have dinner with me.”
You freeze, your head jerking up to look up at him. “Me?” You hug the broom shyly, Quincey rubs the back of his neck, his eyes winking closed, “Hey, if it makes you uncomfortable you don’t hafta--” You blink and look down, “I--” You stammer, you voice dropping to a whisper, “I’d really like that, actually. . .” You shuffle your feet, in embarrassment, you peek up at him, Quincey mirrors your shy posture, shifting from foot to foot as he rubs the back of his neck. You let out a soft giggle and take a deep breath. “I would love to. . . did you have a place in mind?” Quincey’s bright eyes dart in your direction before he gives a small jagged smile. “I know a few little hole in th’ wall places. One I’ll think you’ll really like, s’ nice an quiet. You nod, returning his smile, feeling your heart flutter. “That sounds great. . .” You stand their for a moment dumbly before you fluster and grin in embarrassment, picking up the dust pan and carting it and the broom into the back. When you are out of his line of sight you can finally let your heart to it’s erratic somersaults. Putting a hand over your heart and swallowing hard. A date. . . a dinner date, tonight, and you don’t have enough time to thoroughly panic because it’s going to be after work, which in an hour! You take a couple of deep breaths, easy, steady there! You busy yourself with scrubbing the tiny break room, your mind feeling like it was composed of marbles. Every thought you had rolling around and bumping into each other. There was no doubt you liked Quincey but oh gosh!
It was like, now you knew, he knew, how you felt? Or was it, he knew, you knew how HE felt? You squish your face with your hands. Okay, you’re panicking, again, stop panicking-- just breath!! You let your eyes close tightly and you shake your head. You grab the bucket of soapy water and throw your sponge into it, hobbling out of the breakroom to start washing down whatever else you could find. You still had an hour to occupy your mind-- and in the meantime you needed to keep pep-rallying yourself! It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, it was just the things in life, made you feel like you had to be guarded. . . Or like you didn’t deserve it. You sigh, squeezing out the sponge and sitting on your knees to clean the dusty bottom of the book shelves. You keep yourself a buzzy bee, cleaning shelves and tables, until the very last minute. Your name is called and you lift your head, you can already feel your cheeks tingling with warmth. You wobble to your feet and give Quincey a shy smile. “Just let me dump the soapy water out! I’ll be right back.” You steal yourself into the break room, watching the water swirl down the drain, and turning to peer at yourself in the mirror. You give yourself an awkward but encouraging smile. Leaving the bucket and sponge on the counter as you join Quincey by the door. “I’m ready,” You say, feeling unsure, but when Quincey gives you his own crooked smile, your heart flutters. He holds the door open for you, and you step out together into the lamp light sidewalk.
It’s going to be okay, you tell yourself, hesitantly reaching for one of Quincey’s hands and holding it. He perks up and looks towards you, and you give an embarrassed smile and laugh in spite of yourself.
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wip...monday
Ugh, so, before this last week, I think I hadn't written anything in...three or four months. My state started opening up again, things were looking good, all I wanted was to be with my friends, outside with my kids, all day, every day, with all my free time. COVID numbers are on the rise nationally again though, so I find myself pulling back in, keeping my kids at home, and...back at my laptop, honestly.
It feels good to write again. Have a very rough first draft of something I've been working on for...years XD
“Are you sure you don’t want to see if I fit into your suitcase again?”
Veronica hates that she’s resorted to the most banal of bad jokes, but…this is apparently where they’re at. Taking a last minute stroll away from the hustle and bustly of the Kanes’ imminent migration from suburban villa to vacation villa, Duncan does the polite thing of not responding, his mouth tightening as he squeezes her clasped hand.
But she can’t seem to help herself.
“Duncan?” she adds.
He stops walking, which is something. Something more than he’s said for the last few hours, after they got up together, suffered through a cold, awkward breakfast while Duncan’s parents wandered in and out of their kitchen, seemingly always surprised to see Veronica still sitting at their kitchen counter nibbling toast with their son.
She and Duncan have known this day was coming for a while, okay? Veronica shouldn’t be feeling such a lump in her throat. She shouldn’t be working so hard to untangle a jumble of nerves sitting low in her gut.
It’s only six weeks. Maybe eight, if the weather is good and the Mannings can join them, but…
“Well?” she prompts, feeling truly pathetic.
Duncan turns to face her, takes her other hand in his own. Why doesn’t he look…okay, well, she doesn’t know how he looks. He looks as if there is something on his mind, like he’s working through a really difficult math problem, or something. But final exams were last week – he shouldn’t have – well – no – okay, Veronica is just trying so hard not to imagine the worst, she’s really grasping at whatever alternate reality is presenting itself. Maybe it really is math. Maybe he’s about to talk to her about math.
Veronica wets her lips. “Seriously, Duncan, I can get pretty sma—“
“I think we should break up.”
In retrospect (well, later in retrospect. Not now. Now she has no spect at all to retro) she will realize this is not at all a surprise. That a hundred clues presented themselves to her over the course of the last 48-odd hours, and that this is merely a culmination of all of those things.
Now, however, the ground does a really awful job of opening beneath her feet, and she gets the horrifying feeling of missing a stair.
“What?” she manages, and her voice is small and fragile.
Duncan is frowning, staring at something in the vicinity of her navel.
“I said, I think we should break up.”
It’s really no better to hear it a second time. She feels like she drops an extra six inches into the dirt.
“But – why?”
He squeezes her hands, and Veronica remembers to take a big, giant, shaky breath.
An awful, horrendous, horrifying thought occurs to her.
“Wait, is this about la—“
“It’s not about…” he cuts her off, and then glances at her quickly, “that.”
She exhales, feeling the belated sting of tears. Her skin is going hot and cold. Oh god. Oh god this is happening.
“Duncan I don’t understa—“
“It’s just,” he says, and he drops her hands to look away. “It’s just that I’m going to be gone all summer, Veronica, and, well, after that it’s senior year, and then college, and, well, honestly, I just think that it’s a lot to ask of us, okay? Just a lot to ask, when we’re about to go start our lives.”
“But, Duncan,” she hears herself say, and she already knows she will hate herself for this because it feels far too close to groveling, “Duncan, I can make the time, I can probably afford a fli—“
“Look, I’ve thought about it a lot,” he insists, turning back towards her. He’s a bit taller than her (fuck, everyone is), and he’s standing between her and the sun, and she has to squint to make out his features. “And – this is the right decision. I’m sure if you think about it, after I’m gone, you’ll realize the same.”
The burn of unshed tears is really pressing upon her now. Oh god – she’s pathetic, she thinks, except it’s with this panicky, oh my god, oh no, oh no, oh no mantra looping through her insides –
He takes her hands again, but Veronica barely feels his touch in her clammy hands, because she’s submitting all her energy to not losing it (don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry) in front of him.
“Seriously,” he says, and he leans forward, pressing cold, dry lips to her forehead. The tears she doesn’t want to cry spill over on one side, dripping down her cheek. “This is the right decision. Good bye, Veronica.”
Good bye, Veronica.
The reality of the moment comes crashing down, and Veronica’s hands drop to her sides like dead weights as Duncan steps away, steps around her, and begins his walk back to the house. Veronica can’t move. She can’t move, and she needs to, because her car is back at the Kanes’ house, and she needs to move it out of the way so that their cars can get out of their driveway and they can catch their private jet to Tampa. To Tampa, for crying out loud –
Veronica scrubs at her eyes, furiously willing the tears to stop. Her wet mouth drops open as she looks into the sky, hoping the sun will dry out her tear ducts. Not here, she begs herself. Not now.
Oh my god it’s really over.
She hugs herself in the sun, feeling suddenly cold. Clenching her jaw together, she inahles through her teeth, wincing as she listens for Duncan, turning halfway to ensure he’s gone. Her face crumples again as she follows his path back to her car. No, she reasons, desperately, foolishly, this can’t be it. This can’t really be it. Duncan will change his mind when he’s on the plane. He’s going to call her tonight, because this is just the separation anxiety talking. They’re Duncan and Veronica. They’ve been dating for most of the last year…more or less…well, sort of off and on, really, but definitely they were more on than off, and this was just going to be another one of those off periods, right? Right?
Veronica comes to a stop right outside the Kanes’ driveway gates. Oh god. Her keys. Her bag – they’re inside. Except…
This is surely a new low.
One of the Kanes’ housekeepers is making her way down the driveway, looking polite while she carries Veronica’s shoulder bag. Veronica can manage all of two steps to meet her.
“I’m so sorry,” the housekeeper whispers, offering a tight smile before hurrying back inside.
Veronica is going to cry again. Seriously, she can feel it, and it’s only with a surge of icy hot rage that she grasps her bag to her body and lurches for her piece of shit car.
It’s already unlocked because hello who would steal this car here, and she is sure she leaves a skid mark on the pavement she reverses so quickly.
Tears blur her vision before she’s down the massive hill his house is on.
She knows what this is about, actually.
Oh god. She’s known since she was sitting next to him eating toast, while he pushed scrambled eggs around with his fork.
It was her stupid idea.
Her stupid idea.
He hadn’t even wanted to – oh god he hadn’t even wanted to – memories are spilling through her mind, one after another, and she wants to scream.
Lighting a bunch of stupid candles in his room while he finished packing in his walk-in closet.
Draping herself over his duvet, rearranging her limbs, double checking her cleavage in the stupid bra she’d spent so much money on. It didn’t fit her well at all, but it was 50% off when she bought it, and, well, it was lingerie wasn’t it??
Seeing the look of shock on his face when he walked back into his room.
The awkward conversation that followed (are you sure? We don’t have to – no we really don’t have to) she’d had to convince him, and then it had been…it had been…
Veronica really had nothing to compare it to besides, well, movies and porn.
And she knew sex wasn’t supposed to have so much accidental hair pulling.
That things weren’t supposed to be so…dry.
And painful.
And…
Tears sweep over her face, fresh hot peals of it as she opens her mouth at a stoplight and sobs.
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