#Stupid idea struck me so I had to scribble it out

[harpoonsnotspoons]

This shit flows through me like blood

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Chapter 12 Nemo dat quot non habet (No one gives what they do not have) - Benidorm part 2

Part 3 tomorrow

Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @jamesrifftapes @letsreadallday @sofasoap @mmyrrhh

Warning: Mild panic attack

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Soap found the first listening device not even five minutes after stepping inside the apartment, hidden inside the living room lamp. All three of them concluded, silently, just exchanging meaningful looks, that if that one had been so easy to find, it meant there were others better hidden.

Gabi, blissfully unaware, was joyfully planning their next steps during the afternoon and evening, but the three SAS operators were crowded around one of the kitchen’s counters, with Ghost writing on a notebook.

We’ll go turn the car in and rent another, then we’ll be back to get you and go to the new apartment. Try to find if there’s more listening bugs or cameras before you get frisky with your girlfriend, MacTavish

Soap nodded, completely serious, and grabbed the pen to scribble his own message.

How come ye write a whole fucking paragraph and then ye jus’ speak with grunts and growls?

Ghost rolled his eyes, huffing at Soap’s shit-eating grin, but it was Riot’s giggling that prevented him from answering harshly or whacking his friend over the head. Carefully, with elegant and exaggerated calligraphy, he wrote.

Fuck you

Soap gasped loudly, placing his hand over his heart as if he had been struck by lightning.

‘‘How dare ye hurt me feelings?’’ He pretended to wipe a tear off, trying hard not to allow his lips to curl upwards when Ghost just stared at him, fuming. ‘‘Thought ye liked me!’’

‘‘I said I liked you alive, but I’m about to change my opinion’’ Ghost grunted, shoving Soap’s shoulder without any force, thankful because the balaclava was hiding his wide grin. Stupid motherfucker. The only good fucking thing Shepherd had ever done was putting Soap in his life.

‘‘I’ll text you before we head back’’ Riot laughed quietly, grabbing her jacket, wallet and phone. Gabi decided in that moment to pay attention, seeing that Ghost was collecting his things too, after going into the bathroom to change his balaclava for a face mask.

‘‘Wait, where are you going?’’

‘‘To buy things for breakfast tomorrow and scout a bit for a good place for dinner’’ Riot explained calmly, writing something on Ghost’s notebook before tearing off the page and giving it to her.

We’re going to rent another car and turn this one in. The bags with the trackers will stay at this apartment, and we’ll come get you two in a couple of hours to go to another one. Have fun!

Gabi stared up at Christine’s radiant, uneven smile, speechless, before grabbing the pen and writing hurriedly.

But Johnny found a listening device here!

‘‘Have fun’’ Riot chuckled, and kissed lightly Gabi’s forehead before heading towards the door, where Ghost was already waiting for her. The redhead just blinked, watching them leave, and melted right into Soap’s arms when he hugged her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head.

Maybe a bit of time alone wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

*

It took just under half an hour to turn in the car at the same rental chain they had used at the airport, and then rent another SUV from another company just in case. And once that was done, both Ghost and Riot turned their attention to more important matters.

Knives.

‘‘Have you found anything?’’ Simon grunted a curse under his breath at some idiot trying to overtake their SUV, forcing him to step on the brakes harder than he would have wanted.

‘‘Mhmm… yes, one shop, not far. Turn right’’ Christine nodded, checking her mobile phone. ‘‘Best thing to know where to buy these things is checking online forums of military nutters. And there are a lot of expats singing praises of this shop so we can try… oh, park there!’’

Simon nodded and started the maneouvre, while she waited just until he turned the engine off to get out of the SUV, looking around with the phone in her hand until she got her bearings. Simon locked the car and waited, until she looked up at him, covering the lower half of her face with her own mask, and then showed him the screen.

‘‘That way’’

The street wasn’t really close to the city center, but it was packed. Crowds of people moving up and down the street, stopping to check the shop windows, stopping in the middle of the pavement to chat with other people. No one really bumped into the towering masked Lieutenant, preferring to move out of his way, but, in turn, crossed her path and forced her to move, or worse, straightly pushed into her.

‘‘¡Gilipollas! (twat)’’ Christine spat furiously at the latest idiot that chose to bump into her to avoid Simon. ‘‘¡Mira por donde vas, imbécil! (Watch where you’re walking, dickhead)’’

Simon bit back a laugh at her affronted face, and moved slightly so he’d be walking in front of her. He wasn’t having a good time either. The crowd was too loud and too rowdy, and he was getting fed up of being surrounded of so many people.

‘‘It’s busier than I expected’’

‘‘In this city it’s normal, it’s always full of tourists, but I swear to God, if one more stupid wanker…’’ Her words were muffled by the noise in the street, and her blood ran cold when suddenly, there was a loud bang coming from a building nearby, in the process of being renovated.

Without thinking, her hands shot forward and grabbed his arm, her fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath hard enough to make Simon stop and look down at her, concerned.

‘‘Lovie’’

Rubble, rubble everywhere, falling on me, falling on my team, impending impact, impending impact…

A warm, big palm cupped her jaw over her mask and tilted her face upwards, until her eyes met Simon’s dark brown ones, looking down at her.

‘‘You’re safe. You’re safe, lovie’’ His voice, the same scorching, low rumble that always grounded her, that helped in Belarus, that helped her in the solitude of her room or her shower when she needed something to calm her down. ‘‘You’re with me’’

Swallowing through the knot in her throat, she nodded, feeling the sting of the dust in her eyes. Or maybe it wasn’t dust at all.

‘‘I’m sorry, it’s… it’s pathetic, I’m…’’

‘‘I still have them, sometimes’’ He commented, completely calm. Both of them were still, in the middle of the pavement, ignoring the huffs and puffs of the people forced to go around them. Her hands were still gripping his arm, and he was still cupping her face, to prevent her from looking away.

‘‘You? But you’re always so…’’ She bit her lips underneath the mask, not knowing how to continue. He always looked so calm. So collected. Stern, reliable, disciplined, methodical. It was difficult to imagine the imponent Ghost as a crumbling mess like she felt.

‘‘Took a long time to get there’’ Simon shrugged lightly, and suddenly, somehow, he seemed closer, his massive body bending down to get closer to her, or maybe she was just standing on her tip toes again, or maybe it was both.

Their foreheads touched, and Christine couldn’t help but close her eyes and sigh, relaxing into the feeling of his warm skin and the soothing sound of his breathing.

‘‘You’ll get there too’’ He added, very low, feeling tempted, oh so temped, but with the firm self-discipline with which he managed his life, he restrained himself. It wouldn't be appropriate. Not there, in the middle of a busy street, when she was in the middle of a panic attack ‘‘You’re not pathetic. You’re human. I’d be worried otherwise’’

Christine just nodded, the pale, cold skin of her forehead dragging against his, feeling the hardened skin of a couple of his scars. God, if only…

‘‘I don’t know what I would do without you’’ She froze right after the words left her lips, with her eyes still closed, but she felt how his breathing hitched for a second. And then, the low rumble of his laugh and a calloused thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

‘‘I’m not going anywhere, lovie’’ Bloody fucking hell, how could he. How could he, after this. ‘‘Because I don’t fucking know what I would do without you either’’

Christine chuckled softly, opening her eyes again as Simon straightened up and let his hand fall from her face.

‘‘Knives?’’ She whispered, without releasing his arm. He didn’t seem to care, and both started to walk towards the shop.

‘‘Knives’’

[itzpris15634]

Take a Break (Sugar x Scarletta)

Scarletta pressed her index finger to one key on her keyboard. She let the note ring for a little, then she moved her finger to another key and let that note ring out for a little. Slowly, unsurely, she was piecing a song together. Sort of. Hopefully.

She had to come up with a new song soon. Doing the same few songs at gigs can only entertain people so much. They needed something new. Something fresh. Unfortunately for Scarletta, her mind was blank.

She looked all around her. Sheet music with messy scribbles all over, varying melodies and chords on each one. But none of them struck her as good enough.

Ultimately, Scarletta groaned and threw her hands up in the air.

“This is STUPID!”

Sugar Sprinkles, meanwhile, was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. She was doing some writing of her own. She closed her notebook and set down her pen, and she started talking to her girlfriend, “Scarlie, come on! You’ve been working on this for… uh… since… how long? 6 hours? 5? 4? 3? 2? Mmm… point is, you’ve been at it for-“

“Way too long. Yeah, I know,” Scarletta snapped, “Which is a fucking shame. Because even with all that time, I couldn’t come up with anything good. Or even decent. It’s not FAIR! Where is the creative inspiration when you NEED it?!? FUCK!!”

Scarletta started up an angry rant. Every few word out of her mouth was a swear or curse. She tugged and pulled at her hair. She grabbed a few sheet music pages from the floor, and ripped them apart.

She was close to slamming her fists onto her keyboard when she felt a pair of hands on her back, rubbing in slow, circular motions.

Scarletta felt the vibration of Sugar’s voice behind her, “Now now, dear. You’re a little tense, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine! I’ll, uh… figure it out! All I have to do it… start from scratch-!”

“That’s the strategy you’ve been trying all day, and where did it get you? Come on, join me on the couch! Because I think you could use a break-“

Sugar’s words fell on unfocused ears. Scarletta continued her own ranting, “…and that will be exactly it! Maybe it will finally give me some new ideas! I’ll finish writing this godforsaken song today, and-“

“Scarletta!”

Scarletta’s finally shut up to listen. Sugar sighed, taking a seat next to her girlfriend on the piano bench.

“Please,” Sugar started, “Take a break. You can always work on this later. When do you need it, again?”

“…Next week…”

“See? I’m sure you can handle a few hours without stressing over it.”

“I…” Scarletta paused, studying Sugar’s expression. Sugar’s bright blue eyes were pleading with her.

How could she resist?

Scarletta sighed, “Okay, fine. I’ll take a break.”

Sugar’s face lit up, a smile spread across her face.

“Good. And I know just what you need!”

===

🎶 I am on my way 🎶

🎶 There’s a little surprise, before supper, and it cannot wait! 🎶

Ahhhh Hamilton.

Apparently I can only write when its midnight or some other unholy hour that I’m supposed to be asleep at. Inspiration is weird like that, I guess.

Idk maybe I’ll polish this and post it to AO3 later. Maybe.

[babbling-idiot2]

Could you do a Hartley Rathaway x reader, they were childhood friends and the reader was one of the few people who understood him despite his attitude. The reader and Cisco begin to flirt as she’s waiting for Hartley to get off from work. They wore the same Star Wars shirt and Cisco is shocked that Hartley has a friend at all. During the explosion of the particle accelerator the reader gets trapped in a mirror after an argument with Hartley about who they are dating. Pied piper mocks Cisco in who the reader truly trusts and Hartley cares for them more. Cisco finds out why they disappeared and tries to get them out of the mirror.

Back when things were simple, life was easy. Sure there were moments where you thought 'Damn this can't get any worse.' The truth was that yes. Things can get worse and they did when the particle accelerator exploded. The last thing you remembered was arguing. Something stupid was said and the last thing you saw before everything changed was Hartley walking away. You regretted saying what you did and when you turned around to go after him it was almost as if you were being shoved into a room. A pitch-black room with no windows or doors. The light was something that you almost forgot about. But it was something you wished for. This blackness was unlike anything you had ever seen. Deep down you had this feeling this place would be your home now, pitch black and silence beside your own voice.

One day something changed in the dark. It was almost lighter. Something seemed bright in the distance. A light perhaps? You weren't sure but you weren't about to let it just go away. So you ran towards this light. The closer you got the more it seemed to look like a window. Walking towards it a bit slower than your original speed. You finally get in front of it. It's a room. This room looks like a room inside of an office. Going forward you put your hand out to, hopefully, see how far this view goes. Sure enough, your hand goes nowhere. It stops. You have no idea why or what is stopping you but you can't help but just stand there. Taking in the new view and the light. No more darkness. Everything seems so vibrant. It's as if you have been in the dark for years. But that can't be possible. Surely you had only arrived a day ago. Was it a day? You weren't sure, but it's definitely not any longer than a day.

That same view had been there for a long while. Every time you have taken glances you always feel as though you are missing something. Like a person walks through and you just miss them walking out of the door. You always panic when you see it, hoping that they can see you, but you never see anyone, just a passing shape or shadow. It's frustrating, to say the least.

An idea had struck you suddenly. Even if you can never catch the sight of a person, perhaps if you write a message on the glass, they might see it. So, you scavenged your pockets, and sure enough you had a marker in your pocket. You wrote on the glass. All be it a bit scribbled. It said, "Help me, I am trapped in here." Hopefully whoever was on the other side could understand what you meant by "in here" and help you.

The next few minutes were nerve-jolting. One second no one is in front of the glass and now you get more than a few seconds of face time with someone. That someone is Cisco Ramone. God you missed him. He was always such a good friend to you. He looks different now. He looks older, aged in a sense that's not so physical and more just in his eyes. He looks panicked almost. Looking at the barrier between you. The last memory you have with him is sitting and having lunch and then being stolen away from his company by Hartley. God, Hartley. It feels like forever since you thought about him. You really missed him. Your last memory of him was arguing. He had accused you of betraying him, like everyone else. When you asked why. All he said was Cisco's name. Nothing more, and when you questioned him on that he just shook his head and said that he could treat you better than Cisco. Of course not thinking about your words, you just said that you weren't Hartley's partner and that he can't feel this way. It was heartbreaking, to see his face after you said that. The change from anger to pure sadness and the look of betrayal was evident. There is not a second that goes by and you don't regret that.

The next few moments that passed were quite odd. You remember a sudden rumbling in the space you were in. Then the barrier is broken by a hand. Pushing itself into the space. You didn't think before you acted and you grabbed the hand. It took no time to grasp yours and you were being pulled through the barrier. You felt sweet relief but instantly started feeling sleepy.

Again, it felt as if no time had passed while you were asleep and you woke up. When your eyes opened they instantly hurt. The light, the colors the difference. When you did adjust to the room, you realized there were two people in the room with you. One was Cisco, he was asleep in an arm chair and had a gun in his hand. And right next to in an arm chair of his own, was Hartley. He looked so much different. You had only seen him a few days ago. He looked like he had physically aged and now he had a hearing aid in? When did that happen? Suddenly Cisco shuffles and then gasps, drawing your attention to him instantly.

"Y/n? You're awake!"

You smile and you hear shuffling again and this time it's Hartley. You look to him. You hear Cisco talking to you but you can't take your eyes off of Hartley. When he finally opens his eyes he looks to Cisco before finally trailing his eyes to you. He gasps at seeing your eyes on him. He composes himself and then sits up straight before speaking.

"So, you're finally awake huh? Cisco said he brought you here to watch your vitals. Now that you're awake, I think it's best if I leave."

You reach your hand out quickly before he can stand up. His hands are cuffed and you raise an eyebrow but shake it away.

"Don't go. Please. I have to apologize. What I said a few days ago, was wrong. I didn't mean anything I said."

Cisco and Hartley look at each other and finally, Cisco speaks, and this time you look at him.

"Y/n. You said a few days ago? Y/n, what's happening today?"

Furrowing your brows you shake your head.

"Dr. Wells is turning on the particle accelerator? How could you forget that, you couldn't stop ranting about it."

Cisco sighs and Hartley can't help but sit back down. The looks on their faces are quite concerning.

"Y/n. It's been six years since the particle accelerator was turned on. It exploded and it killed a lot of people but it also gave people some powers. It's what put you in that mirror."

Cisco says as he approaches you. Shaking your head you can't believe what you are hearing.

"No. That can't be! I was only in there for a few days. I just had that argument with Hartley and I was about to come after him and then I was just, pushed into that darkness, but it can't be six years. Not that long!"

Cisco goes to console you by putting his hands on you but you snap at him.

"Get out! Get the hell away from me. You're wrong. That's not right, it can't be."

Cisco presses his lips and leaves. He stops at that door but continues when he realizes he can't say anything. You breathe heavily and you look over to Hartley.

"Is that true?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Why ask me? He just told you."

"Because you have never lied to me. You don't keep things from me, leave me in the..."

You take a moment. You can't say it. Hartley looks over to you, the sassiness in his eyes once before is gone. He turns toward you.

"It has been six years since you disappeared. You've been in a Coma since you came out of the mirror for about a month. A lot has changed."

Nodding you blink a few times.

"What you said hurt. I know that it might have been a bit silly of me to even think you'd like me, especially if you compare me to Cisco. I'm not surprised you picked him. He's everything I'm not."

You had a look on your face. One that kind of irked Hartley. It frustrated him.

"Is that what you were talking about that day? You thought that I was picking him over you? Alright, I admit, Cisco is a nice guy, I flirted back, but I never accepted his advances because he was not what I wanted. He's more of what just a friend, would be like. And, It's hard for me to admit my feelings to anyone, especially someone I like. So when you said I picked him over you and you could treat me better, it confused me. Then you started walking away and I knew my feelings for you were real, I just never thought you'd like me like that, because you're, well, you're you. So, smart and handsome, I just didn't think that was a possibility. For me at least."

He smiles and looks down, a slight blush coming over his cheeks.

"So, with that being said, I am willing to forgive you, and perhaps."

He leans close, lowering his voice to a slight whisper.

"If I escape from here, I could take you out to dinner or something, we can catch up."

Smiling you agree but just as you are about to ask what he means by escape Cisco walks in.

"Come on Hartley, I gave you your time."

"Wait, Hartley what did you do?"

He smiles as he walks to Cisco.

"I didn't kill anyone, some injuries maybe, but I didn't kill anyone."

Squinting in suspicion you nod your head and he walks out. Yeah, there is a lot you're going to have to catch up on.

[my-own-walker]

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

4.

The rest of the weekend went fine. I spent the majority of it dreading class on Monday. For one, I did not want to see how badly I failed Friday's quiz. Also, I especially didn't want to see Kyle. Or Kyle to see me, for that matter. It was weird that he had gone from "just some guy" to someone I couldn't stand in a matter of a day. 

When I sat in the nearly empty lecture hall, I said a silent prayer that Kyle would find himself running early today. He could find a seat next to Archie and I would have a break from him. Instead, though, I sat through an excruciating fifteen minutes of watching people trickle in, filling up the classroom in the usual arrangement. I couldn't even look at the door any longer, for fear of Kyle thinking I might be looking for him. I began doodling in my notebook, idly drawing little faces and flowers while awaiting my impending social doom.

Within seconds, it seemed, a figure slid down into the chair next to mine, landing with a thunk. I didn't dare move a muscle. As if the universe were trying to reward me, our professor began the lecture quickly. I avoided any confrontation with Kyle, at least for the time being.

I took notes rather diligently. There was no way I could stoop as low as to cheat again. Each figure, equation, and concept got hastily scribbled into my notebook. I even threw on my glasses part-way through to see the board better. I didn't wear them often, instead opting to simply sit where I could see well enough. But I meant business.

The class started to go by quickly. The professor began to speak faster in order to cram the content in before the hour was up. I could hardly keep up with the break-neck pace. While flipping my pencil over to erase something I had written, it flew out of my hand and clattered to the ground. Before I could even react, a blonde mop of hair dipped into my periphery.

"Here," Kyle whispered, presenting me with the catapulted writing utensil. 

"Thanks," I replied simply, taking the pencil so I could return to trying to not fail calculus. He smiled genuinely at me, his gaze lingering for longer than I could believe. I returned to writing, but suddenly, it was hard to focus on the task at hand. My stupid brain kept replaying his smile. The way his eyes crinkled, their deep brown color striking me. Stop, Hannah, I scolded myself.

Professor Edwards finally finished lecturing and opened up the room to questions, with just minutes until we were due to leave. I looked at my handiwork in my notebook and found that I hadn't written anything down since dropping my pencil. I covered my face with my hands and rubbed my eyes. How could I let a boy, let alone Kyle Spencer, distract me like that?

I felt Kyle turn his attention to me. In my periphery, I could see that he was looking at me periodically. I tried my best to focus on the last seconds of class time, but it was to no avail. I started packing my things up in defeat.

Kyle was up and out of his seat as soon as our professor said we could leave. I was thankful for it. If he didn't want to chance speaking to me, I sure as hell didn't want to chance it either.

+

The apartment was eerily quiet. I couldn't stand it. 

I was up late, trying to finish a piece for my poetry class. Inspiration hadn't struck me yet and I grew frustrated. It wasn't due until Friday, but if I wanted to pass a calc quiz, I'd have to finish the poem as soon as possible to focus on math for the rest of the week. I stood and stretched, padding over to my bed. The old mattress springs protested as I laid my weary body upon them. 

I stared up at the ceiling, hoping some divine intervention would give me an idea. The poetry prompt was essentially to write about love. It was the first piece that would be due in class, so the professor started with an easy assignment. Well, at least, it was supposed to be. Love is perhaps the easiest, most cliche thing to write about. I think that's why I struggled so much with it.

Out of sheer desperation, I pulled out my phone to scroll through Instagram. Maybe getting the instant dopamine rush of social media would help me feel "love" somehow. I mainly followed other kids from school. My feed was full of party photos, quotes from famous authors, and some indie "aesthetic" accounts' posts.

While scrolling, a quote from Virginia Woolf came up. I was relieved, hoping her great, old words would give me inspiration. "Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I'm never not thinking of you."   I scrolled down, kind of unsatisfied with the quote. The next photo was one posted by my friend Leon. It was a group shot of him and his frat brothers at the TKE party on Friday. In the center of the shot, stood an unmistakable blonde boy. Kyle Spencer.

I threw my phone down onto the bed next to me and groaned aloud. Why can I not get rid of this guy? Why do I see him everywhere now? I thought. I sat up and stared off, wide-eyed, at the corner of my room. I knew what I needed.

Hopping off my bed, I was careful to not make too much noise. I grabbed my laptop and shoved it into my leather messenger bag. I slid the first pair of shoes I could find on, plugged my headphones into my phone, and slipped quietly out of my room. 

My plan was to hit up my favorite late-night coffee shop on campus. The night was dark and humid, smacking me in the face as I stepped out into it. After shoving my headphones into my ears, I put the hood up on my sweatshirt and set off to my insomniac paradise. It was aptly called "Sleepwalker Coffee Co." They knew their audience well. College students need caffeine at all hours of the day.

The walk was short. We lived rather close to the shop. I discovered the place my freshman year and fell in love. When Lily and I were searching for an apartment, I practically begged her, on my hands and knees, to move into the place closest to Sleepwalker. In three years, I essentially ate and drank my way through their entire menu. I walked along the campus streets until I reached the familiar brick exterior of the shop. The door was painted a dark evergreen and held a beautiful wreath of dried flowers. When I stepped in, the warm smell of cinnamon and freshly ground coffee beans calmed my senses.

I nestled into a small booth in the corner of the place. It was unsurprisingly packed in there. Tons of students sat getting work done while fraying their nerves with cups of liquid energy. It was dark and plush in the shop. Velvet seating and dark looming bookshelves surrounded me.  Royal purple drapes hung on the windows. I took the first sip of my chai latte and sighed, smiling softly. 

The world was better at hours like this, I found. No one bothers you. The coffee shop, as busy as it was, felt like my own personal haven. I could sit in peaceful bliss, working away steadily on my laptop. At hours like this, the sky is dark, sparkling with the ethereal promise of a new day. 

Sparkling. The word hung in my mind like how low smoke hangs and swirls around your head in a dark dive bar. What sparkles? I thought. How does love sparkle? It doesn't. But someone can. Someone you love.

That was all the inspiration I needed to get my poem done.

Previous Part | Next Part

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Acrylics | Headcanon

Requested? Nope

Warnings? None

CC's Included? Corpse Husband, Dream, Awesamdude, Wilbur Soot, Sapnap, BoomerNA, Punz, Quackity, Karl Jacobs

Word Count: 1,730

My first ever set of headcanons! Pls feel free to tell me if they suck or if you want more!! My requests are always open :)

Corpse

-you’ve had earrings for years now and didn’t think acrylics would mess you up

-you were definitely wrong

-you suddenly became notorious for dropping earring backs, losing them in the carpet, and fumbling around for minutes at a time

-corpse had noticed you had started to take longer and longer getting ready

-he knew you loved changing your earrings, matching them to your outfit, and making a whole outfit out of it

-and yet one morning you two were actually headed out to get breakfast together

-when you were taking a while he decides to check on you and see if you’re okay

-he walks into the room, watching you pout in frustration as you tried again to put in your earrings

-he can’t help the small smile on his lips that occurs, watching as you tried over and over to put the jewelry in your ear

-he walks over, placing his hands on your shoulders until they fall down over your hands

-“let me help”

-he takes the earrings out of your hands, nudging you to turn in his grip

-he brushes your hair back before focusing intently on putting the earring in

-he’s scared about hurting you but you’re too busy focusing on the butterflies in your stomach to even notice

-he fastens the earrings with ease and without a second thought he presses a kiss to your forehead before telling you to turn and look in the mirror and see if it’s okay

-you’re practically glowing and that alone make corpse smile

-from now on he puts your earrings in for you

Dream

-the minute you got your nails done you realized what a struggle opening cans was going to be

-you loved Redbull and soda and pretty much anything that came into a can so you were definitely struggling

-dream watches as you leverage the can tab with a knife and pop it open that way, an adoring smile on his lips

-he watches you do this for a while, finding the action absolutely adorable for whatever reason

-one day you head to the fridge and grab a can of Redbull and Dream takes it out of your hands instantly

-he pops it open without a word and hands it back, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he walks away

-you stand in the cold air of the fridge for minutes afterward, struck at how such a perfect boy could notice something so minute about you

-he always opens cans for you now

Sam

-having a difficult time typing never even occurred to you when you got your nails done

-you figured you’d either find a way around it or use text to speech if it got really difficult

-and it did get really difficult

-you had a 10-page essay due and the idea of ripping your extremely expensive nails off had crossed your mind more than once

-when you’re on your third page and can’t type one word without a mistake you let out a muted scream before dropping your head onto the desk

-Sam who had been sitting in the room the whole time offers a concerned look

-he makes his way over to you, rubbing your back slowly

-“what’s wrong baby?”

-“these stupid nails keep messing me up,” you whine leaning your head into his chest

-he picks your hand up, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before nudging you out of the seat

-“what are you writing about?” he asks as you plop down onto the floor

-“what?”

-“what are you writing about? I can type it,”

-you swore you were about to get down on one knee and propose to him

-“uhm it’s about the similarities and differences of an older text and a newer text and why it’s fundamental to use both”

-“alright. tell me what I need to write next”

-you spent the next few hours telling Sam your plans and thoughts about the paper while he typed, your heart slamming appreciatively in your chest

Wilbur

-you had done pretty well with your hair after getting your nails done

-brushing it out, pulling it up, even twirling it around your fingers caused no issue and all ease

-however, when you see a TikTok tutorial of a girl pulling her hair up with butterfly clips this is when the trouble starts

-you sat in front of your bedroom mirror, twisting your hair and attempting to clip it in place, and proceeding to drop the clip over and over and over

-the frustration is unreal, and at one point you almost start crying in annoyance

-Wilbur walks into the room clueless and stops in his tracks immediately

-he kneels on the ground behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders

-you lean back into his touch and let it calm you as you drop the clips from your hands

-”what’s wrong my love?” he whispers calmly while pressing kisses to your head

-”I can’t get my hair right,” an unintentional whine coming out of your lips

-Wilbur reaches down to where the clips lay on the ground and gather them up

-”what do you want me to do?”

-you’re practically crying for a whole other reason now

-”i’m just trying to twist my hair up and pin it back” you explain

-wilbur watches you pull the hair back before opening the clip and securing it into place

-he smoothes down the hair as if he’s done it a million times and presses kisses to your head

-he’s the first person you call now when you need help with your hair

Sapnap

-okay you’ve never been great at opening sauce packets before

-but now that you got your nails done it’s downright impossible

-the first time you tried you swore it took you 30 minutes to even get it a little bit open

-so when you and Sap go to Chick fil A and sit down to eat you’re already groaning in annoyance as you pull out the chick fil a sauce packet

-Sap watches with amused eyes and a slight smirk as you struggle even getting the plastic between your fingers

-he grabs it from your hands without a word, tearing it open before placing it back in front of you

-every single time you go to a fast food place now he does it subconsciously whether you have acrylics on or not

-your heart aches a little every time he does it, nothing but love for the sweet boy before you

Boomer

-alright so you’ve never been a huge gamer in life

-sure you played the occasional game when you were younger or when your older brother needed help beating a level but that was about it

-when you met Boomer you realized how little you knew about video games, specifically minecraft

-while you never played the game you listened to Boomer tell you all about it and explain

-however when he started playing Halo in his free time that’s when you became interested

-your dad used to play the game 24/7 when you were younger, beating it a multitude of times on the old PC in the computer room

-and when he saw your interest piqued, he knew he had to teach you how to play valorant

-similar shooting games, right?

-you sat on his lap, his hands on top of yours as you try to work around having the longest fingernails ever and learn a new game

-you swear instead of you actually playing Boomer was doing all of the work

-it made your heart happy anyway

-you joked with him that when the fingernails come off you’ll beat his ass in valorant

-��Whatever you say my love” he assures pressing a kiss to your shoulder

Punz

-okay but opening jars normally is hard

-how the fuck were you supposed to open them with long ass fingernails on??

-you did probably the most ridiculous tips and tricks from TikTok to try and loosen the top of the jar

-nothing worked

-punz watched you amused day in and day out whenever you tried to open any jars

-some days he even let the jar loosen before hiding it back again and watching as you cheer excitedly, opening it on the first try

-one day you’re having a particularly hard time opening a jar, going as far as cursing in frustration over the opening

-punz walks over to you, pulling the jar from your hand and popping it open with ease you watch admirably

-you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek and he flushes underneath your touch

-now every time you have a jar you can’t open you’re right by Punz’s side pouting and holding out the food

Quackity

-obviously, Alex has always opened doors for you

-he’s even gone as far as smacking your hand away when you try to open a door for yourself

-and when you get your nails done? Forget about it

-he barely lets you lift a finger, not wanting for you to ruin your brand new manicure

-he’s seen you pull off quite a few nails by missing the door handle and hitting it a bit too hard

-there’s no way he’s gonna make you lose more

-”i’m going to work!” you yell out to Alex as you walk out the door

-he rushes in behind you unexpectedly and out towards your car

-he already has the door opened and is offering a big grin

-you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, your heart surging at the idea that you had gotten the best boyfriend in the world

Karl Jacobs

-kinda like typing, you never thought you’d have an issue writing stuff down with your nails on

-however, this time around you got your nails a little longer than usual and it was a struggle

-as you’re scribbling down a grocery list you mess up practically every other word in sloppy writing

-Karl tilts his head when he tries reading the list and smiles

-”baby let me write the list,” he whines the next time you go shopping

-you tell him everything you need and Karl writes it down in perfect hand writing, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he gets up

-you’ll never not be shocked when he does something so simple but precious

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Can you do a story where Torino gets hit with an animal quirk and turns into a wolf but not an actual wolf he has ears and a tail and wolf instincts and he’s kinda fluffy ? And the quirk ends up going away in about three days? 💖

what did you mean by 'kinda fluffy'? he's always fluffy. wc: 929, and this ficlet's definitely leaning nanahiko.

Recovery Girl scribbled notes on her clipboard, but Sorahiko had by this point a long and extensive history of reading her expressions, and the pinched grimace she was sporting said it all: there was no fixing what had happened to Sorahiko. His only option was to ride out the Quirk effect.

“For someone who advertises herself as the cure-all panacea, you’re sure useless,” said Sorahiko sourly. He felt his new set of ears flick back on instinct, in reaction to the deadly glare Chiyo shot back.

“For someone who thinks he’s the fastest hero around, you sure get smacked with a lot of Quirk effects,” she snapped. “Ever think about dodging one every once in a while?”

“Last time I tried, I brought you Yagi as a weepy toddler. And he took two weeks to get back to normal. What am I looking at again?”

“According to the previous cases, three days,” said Chiyo.

“Really? That’s not too bad.” Sorahiko considered his situation. Nana would excuse him from the patrol listings, since Toshinori could fill in as the ambitious intern, but U.A. didn’t have a reserve of substitute teachers for the Hero course, and he didn’t trust Sound-Off to effectively run the new black-out drills for 3-A. Not when she was busy coordinating that PR event.

An idea struck him, and slowly, a wolfish grin showed itself.

“Recovery Girl,” he said, “do you mind clearing me for work? I wanna see if I can use this to scare the students. Wolves hunt in the dark, right?”

The scratching of a pencil came to a halt. Recovery Girl exhaled a long, resigned sigh, and set the clipboard down on her lap in an exaggeratedly calm fashion. Through the tinted pink glass of her visor, she gave him a look. It said, through the placid set of her eyebrows and unflinching stare, ‘You have got to be kidding me.’

“C’mon,” he begged. “I’m not asking you to clear me for the field. Just for U.A.. It’ll be funny.”

“You take one step out of this infirmary,” said Recovery Girl darkly, “and you’re going to be too distracted to run your stupid black-out exercise.”

“Distracted? By what?”

“New appendages, new sensory inputs, and what’s more, there’s a good percentage of campus that will want to pet your ears or tug your tail.”

Sorahiko scowled. “That’s harassment.”

“That’s curiosity,” she warned. “What does Nana know about this, again?”

“... Very little.”

“Why?”

His scowl deepened, and to his horror, Sorahiko felt his human ears begin to burn as they flushed with embarrassment. The trip from the office to Recovery Girl’s school infirmary had been blessedly short, but his short debrief with Nana over his furry little problem had felt like it lasted an eternity.

(He’d been shoving papers in his messenger bag, getting ready for either a long stay in the infirmary or his apartment. A memo had already been drafted and was sitting pretty on Nana’s desk, the words ‘GT - URGENT’ emblazoned on the header. Recovery Girl had been texted, and she’d responded with, ‘Again? Be there in 30,’ so Sorahiko knew he had plenty of time.

Then the door started to creak open. He Jetted over to kick it shut in a panic, and then felt a flash of ‘Oh shit,’ as Nana let out a wordless cry of outrage.

Sorahiko hastily announced himself.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You’re back from patrol too early - did something happen? Are you injured? Let me in!”

“It’s private,” Sorahiko said, holding the door with all his weight. Not that he stood a chance against Nana if she used One for All, but if he played his cards right, she wouldn’t resort to drastic measures. “There’s been a Quirk incident, and I contacted Recovery Girl already to deal with the effects.”

“A Quirk incident?”

“Not from All for One. More - egh.” Sorahiko wrinkled his nose, and his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. A floral scent hung heavy in the air, thick enough to stick to his throat, and oddly familiar - he wanted to name the flower, but all his brain could come up with was - 

“‘Egh’?” Nana parroted. The knob rattled.

“It’s not crippling me.”

“That’s not the relief you think it is!”

“Shimura, listen,” Sorahiko managed, and Nana fell silent at the sound of her name instead of her title. He flushed at his breach of protocol. “... Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just - you’re sure you can get to Recovery Girl from here without help? Toshinori’s a block away. I came back here for that patrol map…”

“I’m good,” he assured her, and glanced at her desk. The aforementioned map was weighed down by an assortment of office supplies, some of which he noted with fond aggravation, had been sourced from his desk. Quickly, Sorahiko retrieved it while Nana continued to chatter about Toshinori’s latest adventures in patrol. He slid the map under the door.

“... and of course, the little granny called him a sweet ball of sunshine - oh!” A brief pause, a crinkle of paper, and then, heard very clearly through the panel of wood: “Ah, you’re so good to me, Torino! Thank you! See you later!”

Sorahiko said, “Yeah,” in a belated response to her farewell, because there was - there was a weird swishing around his tailbone - no. Regarding his tail, Sorahiko noted with horror that it was wagging. The timing of its movement was clearly connected to Nana’s praise.

He fumbled for his phone and texted Recovery Girl, ‘HELP ME.’)

“There’s only so much my dignity can take,” Sorahiko deflected.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Just read your paranoid Bella post (it was awesome) and what stood out to me is that in these kinds of AUs the Quiletes seem to be kinda left out. If I recall, Billie actively tried to warn Bella that Cullens are bad news and even argued w Charlie about that. How do you think a scenario with Bella who’s not interested in Edward and instead rekindles her childhood friendship w Jacob from the get go (mb befriends Leah too? and is known as ‘the kid w her own company outside of school’) could go?

The post anon is referencing.

I guess I can answer this earlier than I would normally. Sometimes it's good to shuffle the posts around!

Why No Quileute?

Many of the AUs people ask about center around either the Twilight period (something about Bella is significantly different before Twilight begins), the New Moon period (New Moon changes in such a significant manner that Eclipse never happens), or very rarely the post Breaking Dawn period (Bella's off prancing in the woods and Jake is just kind of there).

With the first two especially the circumstances make it unlikely Bella will significantly cross paths with Jake let alone discover the secret of the wolves and meet the rest of the Tribe.

What Do You Mean Bella Might Not Find Out?!

Remember, Jake was not Bella's childhood friend, that was his older sisters. When Bella stops visiting Forks Jake, only a few years younger, seemed like light years younger than Bella Swan. He was not on her radar at all and was that annoying kid brother.

Even as a teenager, Bella's clearly bothered by the age gap between them, seeing it as much larger than it really is.

In the beginning of Twilight she's pleased to see Jake, is willing to flirt with him for information, but she's not at all interested. She only seeks him out in New Moon to work on the motorcycles with him as free labor. From that, the friendship we see through the rest of the series grows.

Before that, though, Billy was more on Bella's radar than Jake ever was. And Billy in canon is Bella's slight enemy as he tries to warn her away from Edward the vampire. Well, Bella certainly knows more than him! So, there, Billy!

As for the wolves themselves, they didn't want to tell Bella, Sam had Jake cut all ties. By happenstance Jake had happened to tell Bella this story and he happens to be able to jog her memory. Had that not happened, she would have assumed he left her just as Edward did and sunk even deeper into depression.

Likely, Charlie would have sent her to live with her mother.

She would never find out the mysteries of the "bears" in the woods, would never meet all the members of the tribe, would never truly develop her deep friendship with Jacob, and she and the Quileute would simply not cross paths.

Bella and the tribe very easily could have been ships passing in the night.

Why No Quileute in Paranoid Bella AU?

Now, this is a Bella who does not want to be with Edward but she's also a paranoid, terrified, wreck. Edward is sneaking into her room every night before Bella gets to First Beach

I imagine she likely does not go to the beach, or if she does, pointedly does not ask anyone about Edward. NOPE, SHE KNOWS NOTHING. Because for all she knows, Edward is hiding somewhere in the bushes watching her.

He, after all, has dropped hints that he knows everything that happens to her.

Bella doesn't know about the treaty at this point and that Edward cannot physically go to La Push.

When Billy gives her cryptic hints, she probably gives him deer in the headlights looks and debates scribbling "SAVE ME" on a sheet of paper, but for all she knows Billy is a human and stands no chance against Edward. In that moment, Edward is right outside her house, in his car, listening to every word.

If Bella tells Billy to get her the fuck out, she might very well be condemning him to be eaten.

"AHAHAHAHAHA BILLY, I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND. SO MUCH."

When Billy sends Jake to Prom, Bella is in Edward's arms, right at that moment. Worse, unlike Billy, Jake does think this is ridiculous and is utterly mortified at interrupting her date like this.

Bella wants to cry.

"AHAHAHAHA, JAKE, I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND. SO MUCH."

Point being though, Edward doesn't tell Bella about the wolves, and she likely doesn't know about them from the beach. So to her, the Quileutes are just humans who seem to know what she knows. Edward likely never expands on this as he never has to in this universe. So he also never explains things like the treaty. This means they are just normal people who stand no better chance against Edward than she does. She can't go running to them for sanctuary, screaming, and potentially have Edward eat the entire tribe as he would have Biology class.

Just as she wouldn't put her mother or Charlie in danger, Paranoid Bella will not knowingly endanger the tribe.

Paranoid Bella Rekindles Her Friendship with Jake (and Leah Comes Along for the Ride)

Let's say Bella does go to First Beach and notes that Edward says he can't make it for whatever reason. Bella's not sure she believes this but he does seem unnaturally disappointed.

Sam drops his "The Cullens aren't welcome here" ominous line and Bella stares at him long and hard. He seems to know something, might even know the same something she knows, in the first timeline she likely decides it's not worth the risk of Edward overhearing them.

In this one though... this may be her only chance to gather information.

Sam is intimidating and scary looking (which is too bad as he's the one who could actually do something in this situation). So she resorts to her "bad flirting with Jake" plan.

Once again, it works, but this time Bella's soul dies inside.

Oh yeah, the Cullens are vampires and eat people (Bella knew it, SHE KNEW IT) but Jake thinks it's all superstitious nonsense. The only way he has heard of to kill them are noble werewolf spirit warriors from the tribe. But they have the treaty with the Cullens because they don't eat people on purpose (Bella cries inside).

No, Jake's never heard of anyone being an actual spirit warrior, don't be stupid, Bella. It's just an old legend.

Bella leaves the beach miserable.

The Quileute Tribe clearly knows but it seems like there's nothing they can do about it either.

BuT EdWArD's StIll In HeR RoOm aT NiGHt!

Bella decides it's worth the risk.

She drives to Billy's, watching for Edward tailgating her at every moment, but sees no sign of him (thank god). Luckily for her, in this early Twilight period, Edward was trying to pretend not to be a lunatic. So he wasn't running down her car yet like he was in Eclipse.

He's very unhappy she's visiting land he cannot go on but will pretend everything's fine. THIS IS FINE. SHE COULD BE EATEN BY BEARS BUT THIS IS FINE.

Bella confesses to Billy that Edward Cullen, the vampire, is sneaking into her bedroom at night to watch her sleep and she is certain he will try to eat her.

This was not what Billy had hoped or expected to hear from Bella Swan.

Those demonic motherfuckers.

Billy likely debates calling Carlisle, the head of the coven (who genuinely would be appalled by all of this), but he doesn't trust any of these people. He assumes Edward is grooming Bella to be Dracula's Bride (he is) and that this is just a thing vampires do (it's not).

But the Tribe cannot go to war with the Cullens.

They have only one wolf at this point, Sam, who is at this point still a teenager and untried in combat. He would be fighting seven vampires alone, they would be condemning him, and the tribe itself to a massacre.

However, that they haven't come after Bella yet is perhaps a good sign. The Cullens may not want to break the treaty either (Billy doesn't realize it's just Edward out there who wants to break it).

So here's what they'll do, Bella will "rekindle" her friendship with Jacob. She'll come over every single day, immediately after school with no exceptions, and will live at their house every weekend.

No exceptions.

The Cullens cannot enter Quileute land and, if they do... Well then, I guess they prepare for war.

Jake is ecstatic, though weirded out, as Bella suddenly practically lives at his house. They get along very well and soon their friendship is formed. Jake keeps trying to date her though and Bella's not very interested.

As for Leah... Sorry anon, but Leah is at the most miserable point in her miserable life. She's been dumped by Sam for her cousin and she has no idea why this has happened and Sam offers no explanations. She's a ball of rage and misery and has no time for Jacob Black's jittery girlfriend from Forks.

Meanwhile Edward is becoming annoyed.

He accepts the explanation that Bella and Jake are childhood friends, that she knew his sisters growing up, and that they've struck up their friendship again but... He doesn't like it.

He goes from imagining Mike Newton's head exploding to Jacob Black's head exploding.

Every day he curses that treaty and thinks it's so damn convenient that Bella keeps running off to the one place he can't follow.

He sits and he seethes.

...

And I stop here.

Wherever this path leads, anon, it is not one we should follow.

[duckymcdoorknob]

The Fall of Red Riot

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: KiriBaku

The breakdown: Lee!Kirishima, Ler!Bakugo and Ler!Kaminari

Warnings: tickling, swearing, fluff overload

Prompt: The 1-A boys are hanging in the classroom during lunch and they’re stumped. They could not get Kirishima to spill his biggest secret: his crush. Bakugo rolls his eyes and volunteers his methods...

“There’s gotta be some way!” Kaminari whined.

“No way! I’m never telling any of you!” Kirishima barked in response.

“Tch, we’ll get it out of you at some point, shitty hair.” Bakugo noted coolly.

“OYE DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Kirishima yelled.

The boys groaned as they all ate their lunches. It was just them and Aizawa, who naturally was asleep, all alone in the classroom.

Kirishima was in a really fuckin’ bad place; he was being pestered by his friends. They all wanted to know who his secret crush was. Luckily, due to his quirk, the boy could withstand anything.

“There isn’t anything?” Midoriya questioned, “not even one thing?”

“Punch me, kick me, swirly, wet willie, draw on me, whatever you want. I’m not talkin’.” Kirishima answered bravely.

Bakugo let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes. “You’re all idiots”

“Well I don’t see you offering any ideas, Kacchan!” Deku grew defensive.

“Literally you’re all fucking stupid.” Bakugo was getting agitated; are they all really this dense?

Deku and Bakugo glared daggers at each other before Bakugo squeezed Deku’s sides.

The smaller boy yelped and leaped at least a foot in the air.

The blonde scoffed, rolled his eyes, then finally spoke up, “there’s your method. Try it out, I’m sure it’ll work.”

Kirishima, who had not been paying attention, turned toward Bakugo, “What method? What do you mean Bakubro?”

“Well now that you’ve got him wondering, I think that you should do the honors.” Kaminari chimed.

Deku grinned menacingly while Bakugo tackled Kirishima and straddled him.

“W-woah there! What gives, Bakugo?” Kirishima grew anxious, what the hell was this guy’s deal?

“Last chance to talk, shitty hair.” The blonde was smiling evilly, a side Kirishima had never seen before.

Red Riot sucked in a breath.

“Do your worst!” Kirishima cried preparing for inevitable pain, “what man can’t take a little pain?”

“Wh-Pain?” Deku asked with furrowed brows, “no-no! You got it all wrong. Kacchan is just going to exploit your body’s sensitivity is all.”

“Ohh!” Kirishima beamed. Then the realization struck, “oh”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Way to go shitty Deku, now he knows the plan!”

Nonetheless, the Katuski clawed his hand and started to lower it down to an already giggling Kirishima’s tummy.

The red haired boy used his summer camp training: act quick in heavy pressure situations.

The hero in training hardened his skin, adding an extra layer to his abdomen, causing Bakugo to groan.

“Seriously? Your shitty quirk!” Bakugo rolled his eyes, “well I can wait here all day. And when the girls come back, you get to say which one you like in front of her.”

“HAVE YOU NO MERCY?” Kirishima roared.

The sudden loud noise awoke Aizawa. He was not a happy camper when he was woken up, especially from a good nap like this.

“You know what Bakubro! I’ll be fine holding out! I can keep my skin hard as long as I wish!” Kirishima yelled cockily.

Oh this will be good.

Aizawa stood up and stealthily stood next to Midoriya. He put a finger to his lip and winked at the greenette.

“How can you interrogate me with no method? You really didn’t think this through Bakubro.” Kirishima was getting cockier by the minute, “can’t tickle someone with no soft skin!”

Aizawa grinned.

Midoriya clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from spoiling another surprise.

As Aizawa’s hair stood up in an instant, Kirishima’s rock hard abdomen disappeared into a soft, pudgy, tummy.

“YES!” Bakugo cried

“M-MISTER AIZAWA!” Kirishima whined.

“You’re the one who woke me up. Just thought I’d keep my quirk alert Incase if any villains attack.” Aizawa responded in a monotone.

Bakugo didn’t hesitate. He immediately started scribbling his fingers along Kirishima’s sides.

The red haired boy kept his composure, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Oh? Nothing’s working huh.” Bakugo lifted his attack, “I guess we’ll just have to stop then.”

“Man you really suck at th- EEP!” Kirishima squeaked as Bakugo raised his arm above his head and poked the hollow of his arm.

It all happened so fast, Kirishima couldn’t even attempt to hold in his laughter.

“waihihihihit. Bahahahahakuhuhuhgohohoho!” Kirishima’s bubbly giggles melted Midoriya’s heart. Normally, Red Riot would be rolling all over laughing, but the uniform definitely helped minimize the feeling.

“You ready for talk yet?” Bakugo asked with a cocked grin.

“Nehehehehehever! Ihihihihihihihi cahahahan lahahahahast!” Kirishima manages through his uncontrollable giggling.

“Midoriya I might need some eye drops. This could take a while.” Aizawa muttered.

Deku chuckled and grabbed drops from Aizawa’s desk.

“You’re getting boring shitty hair. I’ll find your death spot and you’ll never stand a chance.”

“Jokes on you! You can’t even access it!” Kirishima spoke without thinking.

“Oh? Why is that? Is it blocked by me or clothes?” Bakugo cooed as he started to untuck Kirishima’s uniform shirt.

“Waihihihihit Bakubrohohohoho!” Kirishima giggled uncontrollably before any contact was made with his hyper-ticklish skin.

“What happened to being unbreakable? Where’s the great Red Riot now?” Bakugo teased as he prepares an assault, “I wonder if you share your worst spot with the shitty Deku.”

Deku yelped with wide eyes as attention turned to him. He could kill Kacchan.

“W-where’s his death spot?” Kirishima asked, followed by a gulp.

“Nowhere special. Just-“ Bakugo drilled his thumbs into Kirishima’s hips, “here.”

“BAHAHAHAHAHAKUHUHUHGOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima cried out.

“Ohh maybe you do have the same death spot as Deku!” Bakugo teased confidently.

Kirishima’s bright belly laughter filled the room. All of the other boys gathered ‘round to see what was going down.

“Bakugo, you do know you just exposed Deku right?” Kaminari questioned with amusement.

“And I care because? I’m the only one who knows how to get him howling anyways.” Bakugo replied cockily.

A loud yelp was emitted from Deku’s side of the room after Aizawa took a squeeze at both of the boy’s hips.

“Well he’s not lying.” Aizawa said calmly.

“Come make yourself useful, Pikachu. Hold his arms up.” Bakugo commanded.

Kaminari obliged and soon Kirishima was under Bakugo’s mercy, meaning there would be none.

“Tell us Shitty Hair!” Bakugo spoke louder as he removed a hand from one of Red Riot’s hip, and added a scribbling hand to one of his underarms.

“NNGH- NEHEHEHEVEHEHEHEHER!” Kirishima cried.

The boys of class 1-A all shared the same look: fearful amusement. They now knew to never mess with Bakugo, especially after today.

Bakugo lifted his attack fully. “Alright Kirishima, you leave me no choice.”

Kirishima gulped nervously.

“Either you tell me your death spot, or I embarrass the hell out of you right now.” Bakugo said menacingly.

“Y-you. Fiend. You’ll get nothin’ outta me.” Kirishima barked in rebuttal.

“Suit yourself.” Bakugo said calmly, “Pikachu.”

Kaminari drew his attention to Bakugo. While this happened, Aizawa realized that Kirishima was too weak to use his quirk, so he retreated back to his sleeping bag.

“You might wanna sit on those arms, things are gonna get ugly.”

As Kaminari obliged, Bakugo began to pinch at the pudge right above Kirishima’s bikini line. This caused the hard-rock hero’s laughter to jump up an octave.

“Found it~” Bakugo purred in a low voice.

“BAHAHAHA! BAHAHAHAHAHAKUHUHUHUHUHUGOHOHOHOHOHO! MEHEHEHEHEHEHRCHYHEHEHEHE!” Kirishima tried to writhe from under the blonde’s evil clutches.

“Then tell us!” Bakugo demanded angrily.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!” Kirishima whined in response.

“Then die.”

Bakugo’s evil smirk was all that Kirishima saw before his eyes squeezed shut and he was a screaming, blushing mess.

The blonde continued to squeeze the boy’s worst spot. But, he also demanded Kaminari to spider his fingers under Red Riot’s arms. And to top it all off, Bakugo started blowing fat raspberries on Kirishima’s abs.

Red Riot moved into quiet hysterics, unable to bear the tickly feeling.

“Maybe you should stop soon.” Tokoyami butted in, “He doesn’t look too good.”

“Shut up bird brain! He’s done when he confesses!” Bakugo barked back.

Kirishima was trying his best to get out of his friend’s clutches, he was even squeezing Kaminari’s butt with his free hands. But, It had no effect on the electric boy.

“BAHAHAHAKUGOHOHOHO, KAHAHAHAHAMINAHAHAHAHRIHIHIHI STAHAHAHAPPIT! Q-QUIHIHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIHIT! I CAHAHAHAHANT TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHT!” Kirishima squealed as tears leaked from his eyes.

“Last chance to tell us before we get you to exhaustion!” It was Kaminari’s turn to interrogate now.

“OKAY- OKAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY IHIHIHIHILL TEHEHEHEHELL!” Kirishima cried.

The attack ceased, leaving Kirishima panting. After a few seconds of greedily gulping in air, Red Riot looked at his attackers, then his classmates. He had no dignity left, so why should he lie?

“It’s um... it’s...” shit. He needed to come up with a name quick, “it’s Mina.”

“You liar.” Kaminari said as he skittered his fingers once again.

“IHIHIHIM NOHOHOHOT LYIHIHIHIHING!” Kirishima cried.

“That’s enough Pikachu. He knows to tell us the truth.” Bakugo unstraddled Kirishima, Kaminari did the same. The blonde reached a hand out and helped Red Riot to his feet.

His classmates surrounded him in a circle, there was nowhere to run.

“Ah jeez. This is gonna be embarrassing.” Kirishima spoke softly.

“Just say it!” Kaminari commanded.

“It’s Ururaka!” Kirishima yelped.

“No! You’re still lying! I know when you lie because your quirk activates on only your hands!” Bakugo yelled.

“Mister Aizawa! The one time I needed you to erase my quirk!” Kirishima groaned bashfully.

“Just tell us dude we won’t judge you.” Kaminari said with a reassuring hand on Red Riot’s shoulder.

Kirishima looked at all of his classmates curious faces. What if they judged him? What if they didn’t want to be his friend anymore because of who he liked?

“W..well.. um...” Kirishima closed his eyes and sighed, “it’s.. its B-Bakugo.”

Bakugo’s eyes widened along with all the other boys.

“I.. I shouldn’t have said that...” Kirishima said before running out of the room.

“Kirishima! Stop!” Bakugo yelled.

The blonde went chasing after Red Riot, leaving the rest of the class dazed.

“What did I miss?” Aizawa asked with a yawn. He saw all of his confused students, “Jesus was it Mt. Lady or something?”

“N-no... Kacchan” Deku spoke quietly.

“Oh that was obvious.” Aizawa said with an amused breath of air. “Now I owe All-Might 200 Yen.”

[tinylittletv]

A Rift Between

Miraak/Blind!Reader.

I rewrote this because it’s been a few years and I don’t like the old one, and this time I plan on continuing it!

For as long as you could remember, it has always just been you and your father working on your farm. Well, for a while it was just you working on the farm. The labor wasn’t easy nor was it short but you enjoyed this life. Greeting your father with a smile whenever he comes home from his travels. He was never one to stay in one place for long, that only changed after you had been born. But, you’re an adult and very capable of taking care of yourself. It took some convincing but in your early adulthood you convinced him to return to the road while you stayed home. Happy to tend to the land and the animals.

Since the day you came into this world, you were blind. The world is a mystery to you in a way that only you will understand yet never really seek to change. You can see the world, albeit, in a different way. It doesn’t limit you or stunt your life. After all, you’ve never had sight, what on Nirn could you be missing?

The closest city being miles away had you living isolated, but you enjoyed it. No one to bother you or your animals.

And the walk to the city to sell your wares is always enjoyable.

Having enough to live comfortably and always saving up to prepare your father a fresh, large, home cooked meal for when he returns. Always with a tale on his lips to tell. Of course, he would exaggerate a few things, painting the world in a large and exciting light.

But…

His last trip...you didn’t like it.

He had come home, muttering and whispering to himself, you being but an afterthought and the food even more so. Picking at little as he flips through a book. He has come home with books and papers before. So, what is it about this one that had his attention? During the night, you’d hear him rummage for a pen and paper, scribbling away before ripping up the freshly used paper. Cursing and grinding his teeth.

This went on for days. You delayed your trip to the city to try and care for your father as you fear he is sick, or has been struck with madness.

These worries only seemed to confirm your fear of madness as this night he stormed into your room. Quickly you sat up from your bed, opening your mouth to say...something before you felt the book he had brought home being dropped on your lap. It was heavy and it smelt old and inky. You scrunched up your nose for only a second before you went to push the large, heavy book off. Only to have your muttering father grab the back of your head and force you to face the book. Being so close, you could hear what he muttered.

“Just look at the damn thing! Look at it speak! Those dark secrets that crawl through your brain. They know, they know too much! The words won’t shut up.”

He sounded mad.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to face him, letting you know that he was growing angry. At you, at the book. “Focus you stupid child! Look at the book and tell me! Tell me it’s dark, black words and promises of knowledge.” You didn’t try to get out of his tightening grasps as tears bubbled in your eyes. He was mad! Mind tossed about! You stuttered, “You know I can’t read what is written down.” You stated, placing your hands over his, hoping to bring some sanity back to him. But he pulled his hands away, scratching at his chin; Hearing his nails against the scruffiness of his beard. “I know, but maybe blind eyes can see what crawls through the pages and into the mind.” He got off your bed, mumbling about how you should stay put and read and he’ll go get something to write with. Wanting you to tell him what you’d see in the book.

Your tears fell, rolling down your cheeks as you shook with only worry.

He was mad, your poor father has gone mad!

And this book was to blame.

You face the heavy literature in your lap, the worry for your father only being matched by the quickly growing anger for this book. You may not know what is bringing him this madness, you will rip this book to shred to rid him of its burden. You tossed the book open, quick to grab a chunk of the pages before suddenly, something thick, warm and smooth wrapped around you before you felt a pull. One that was too strong for you to fight and to fast for you to fully understand what was happening.

You felt yourself falling, only given a moment to brace for impact. Hiting hard ground, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

Of course it wasn’t a normal book, of course magic had to be involved.

By the divines you will strangle whoever wrote that book and rip it to shreds once you have your hands on it. You got up, pushing yourself onto your feet, dusting off and straightening up your nightwear. Wherever you were, it smelled like an old library and fish. You could hear the faint sounds of books and paper fluttering. Taking a few careful steps forward, you had to think of a way out of here, knowing well that you were no longer in your room. But this place sounded rather vast and empty, it may take a bit to find the way out. Hopefully, magic wasn’t needed, you don’t know a thing about the arcane arts.

A few more steps before a voice boomed above you.

“Mortal”

You turned your sightless gaze upwards.

“You dare use your hands to try and rid Nirn of one of my...many black books?” The voice was masculine, deep, and slow. “I’d burn it if I must.” You stated, calmly as you spoke only truth. “Such written words have driven my father mad, if your book is the cause, I will leave only shreds of it behind. Hell be my punishment if I don’t.”  The being gave a chuckle, just as deep and as slow as his voice.

“Mortals cannot handle the pool of knowledge when they peek into my books. Madness will fall to those...who....are burdened with what they...are not meant to know” He sounded rather proud of that fact; and it made your blood boil. “Then I demand to know the owner of these books, so I can send you to an unwelcome afterlife.” here you do not stutter as you stand your ground. Ready to take on, whoever this was.

For a minute or two, there was no answer. This being thinking on if you should even know that fact, but seeing you so proud and determined, had him play with many plans and ideas into his head.

You hear him inhale, “Little mortal, I am...Hermaeus Mora.”

For a moment, you were taken off guard, not expecting to have this be the fault of a deadric prince. He seemed to catch your surprise, chuckling darkly as you shook your head and returned to just being angry at him. You don’t care who this was, he was driving your father mad, therefore, he’s going to pay. “Rid my father of your madness.” You demanded, not backing down as you kept facing him, an expression showing how you will not be intimidated. But it was all you could do, knowing that in this moment you are at a disadvantage and the prince of knowledge knew that too.

But he was more than amused by you, and there was little he could do that he normally would to any other mortal. After all, you are blind, anything written down here is useless to you and just killing you won’t be as fun. After all, not everyone makes such a...humble demand. Normally they beg or plead. For power, for knowledge. But you, you seem to be a bit of an oddity.

And Mora, he is such a collector of oddities.

Maybe he’ll keep you.

“Mind your tongue...mortal. I am the master of this realm...your life is in...my hands.” You could tell he was being smug. So very smug. “I will be loose with my tongue, you are no master of me.” Your voice echoed with challenge and determination. You will not watch what you say, nor will you be polite.

But, it seemed he plans on answering your challenge as you feel the ground under you disappear, sending you falling yet again. Landing this time, one a pile of books that you end up knocking over. That hurt. For a moment you were still, back aching from that sudden fall. Only slowly sitting up and rubbing your tailbone, moving to sit on your knees before you hear the sound of a book closing and someone getting up from their chair.

Footsteps moving closer to you before they stopped, just shy in front of you as Mora spoke again. “Keep an eye on this one...Miraak.”

[obutsuwrites]

crybaby (therapist!overhaul x f!reader)

summary: She nodded, too ashamed and drunk on her own high to function. 

Unsatisfied by her response, Chisaki grabbed her face. Her rosy cheeks squished in his grip. Chisaki realized she was cute like this. A little puffy fish. 

“You’re being such an annoying pig. My patience is growing thin. Tell me. Tell me you want my cock.” His sentence stumbled from him, in between heavy breaths. 

The woman buried her face in his chest, “Please fuck me, Kai. I need it -- please, please, please.”  warnings: boot worship, dubcon, light scalpel play, male masturbation, light medical play, praise, smut, overstimulation, yandere elements word count: 4,162 lil note: this was written as part of the bnha degeneracy 9 to 5 collab! also we like the banner?? i’m thinking of bein fancy with my posts now 👉👈 masterlist | tipjar | twitter | commission info | ask box is open (for requests)

"His eyes were lifeless. No light entered, no light left. I guess," the woman pauses and pushes out a gravely sigh, "no… refraction." Chisaki Kai notes she says the word with grief; as if it were painful. He scribbles a note: overemotional. Golden eyes examined the woman. Scanning and memorizing the imperfections in her armor. The woman that sat comfortably. It was like her little sad frame didn't bother her. Her body shook and a whimper escaped. 

'Fascinating,' he thought. She was a pathetic creature. Sobbing once a week into his fine leather. The woman was an ugly crier. Her face would swell; puffy and pink. Eyes glossy and red. Sometimes, Chisaki's pants would constrict from the display. Misery in it's finest form. A show just for him. 

Chisaki would be lying if he didn't think this blubbering woman would look better wrapped around his cock. Her squishy face smashed against his groin. Eyes watery and looking up, words of praise muffled. Latex gloves gripping her hair as he degrades her. 'A pathetic little crybaby.'

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first time she had cried, Chisaki sent her packing. His stern voice demanding she "fix her attitude" before returning. Yet, the very next week this weepy woman crumbles. Her voice was a howl. Low and haunting. She'd shake. Her tiny body unable to contain grief. It was disgusting. This was time for help, not fits. The second time, Chisaki only found it unsightly. 

But the third time? The third time she was able to speak, and her voice trembled. Words so sad and awful. She was lesser than him. She was pathetic. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eventually, Chisaki memorized her trauma; low self esteem and a lack of power from an event involving a roommate. Some days he learned more than others. Sometimes the woman would simply come to cry. No words, simply the sound of her wails. They bounced off the room like rubber. Her sobbing stuck in his ears like honey. Thick. Syrupy. Sweet. 

Nothing seemed to improve during their sessions. It was always one fit after another. No change. No spiral. This crybaby was the only constant for Chisaki. His patients came and went, conditions manageable. But this little crybaby of a woman was expected every Friday at 4. Punctuality was her only redeeming quality. There was something pleasant in appreciating Chisaki's time. 'Considerate' was the word. 

She stopped crying as the clock struck 6. 'Like clockwork.' Truthfully, Chisaki believed the woman allowed herself this insecurity. The two hours with him were cathartic. He circles the word in his notes. His canary eyes were glued to her file now. The woman's face was bland and uninteresting. 'You look so plain like this.' A scowl returned to Chisaki's lips. 

"Thank you, Dr. Chisaki," the woman beamed. She often pretended as if she hadn't wept. As if Chisaki were paying her a kindness. It enraged him; she was scum. Her position was beneath him. Her eyes wouldn't leave him. Glossy and wrinkled in a grin. 

'Sickening.' 

Chisaki suppressed a shiver, "I appreciate our talks," his lips twist into a smile, "Drive home safely." He always emphasized the talking. Her trembling lips and heavy voice were erotic in a way. Chisaki wondered what her tears tasted like. He envisioned himself atop her; fingers exploring her pussy, tongue lapping at her tears. 

He watched the woman leave. Golden orbs trained on her back. She took her time leaving; punishment for watching her cry. Chisaki’s cheeks grew hot. It was nauseating to think of bending her over the fine leather. Chisaki was convinced she’d be obedient, her ass waiting in the air. 

‘You’d be a soaking little crybaby, wouldn’t you?’

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His evening began with ritual. Chisaki slipped off his slacks, opting to keep his sweater on. He felt less dirty that way. His cock sprung from his boxer briefs. Heavy and veiny. Chisaki rubbed the tip before spitting on it. He rubbed the spit in, thinking of her. Drooling and sobbing on his cock. Chisaki wanted to rob her of oxygen, ‘Her face must be so cute when she chokes.’ The thought hit Chisaki as he stroked his length. He grunted, palm pumping his cock. His other hand cradled his balls, softly kneading. Orgasms felt so dirty. Unnatural. Viscous cum shot into the pillowy deepness of a tissue. 

He looked at it and groaned. Tossing the tissue away, Chisaki started preparation. 

The hum of a computer filled his bedroom. It was ancient, but Chisaki wasn’t picky. Besides, the rudimentary technology only served one purpose. This was Chisaki’s gateway into ‘hysteria and the female orgasm.’ A million and five hundred thousand results. Everything at his fingertips. He observed her enough -- watched her enough to realize what she needed. She needed his latex clad fingers. His cock buried in her seeping core. He’d stretch her, ruin her body for anyone but him. Her cunt was made for him. 

Chisaki sat in his underwear. Face focused on an order page. Recently, Chisaki found himself hyper focusing on this fantasy; his little crybaby overstimulated and mewling, begging Chisaki for relief. She’d pray for his cock. He was her only release. 

The plan was simple. Allow her to breakdown as usual until he could no longer handle it. Then, he’d offer the woman a glass of water. Claiming that she must be ‘so dehydrated.’ If she refused, Chisaki planned to persist. ‘It’s for my peace of mind, too.’ He could strike her vulunability. Show her someone cared. She was naive and too stupid, so clearly she would lap up his kindness. Insist on drinking every last drop, letting the ‘medication’ take full effect. This necessity was for his sake. Chisaki didn’t want his crybaby too loud. 

His mind drifted to her wiggling beneath him, his boot pressed against her cheek. Perhaps he would force her to lick it, if only to remind her of her place. 

“Beneath me,” he murmurs as a hand sneaks under his waistline. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His kit sits comfortably, tucked behind a bookshelf. Chisaki recognized he needed items. Physical means to make his vision into reality. He anticipated she would come into his embrace quietly… but a part of him hoped she’d fight him. Permit him to make an example of her. Chisaki’s chest tightened. The clock ticked slowly, as if chastising Chisaki for his plans. However, he knew she needed this -- needed him. 

In his kit sat latex gloves, rope, a scalpel, and an expensive vibrator. The personal massager took some convincing to buy; he hated the idea of a market for these… toys… but it was essential. Her face had to be flushed and sweaty. It was important she knew how inferior she was. Chisaki was doing her an injustice by letting the woman merely exist without him. 

A soft beep echoed; the beginning of his plan. Chisaki sat with his legs crossed. Leisurely. Slender fingers atop his notes. The little pile before him was a fraction of his observations. His little crybaby was interesting, to say the least. She was his favorite client. Chisaki was almost embarrassed by the sheer volume of material he kept. His closet was home to clothes and boxes; all filled with parchment. Their margins were adorned in highlight and sticky notes. Chisaki was nothing if not dedicated. 

Quiet foot falls marked her arrival. The woman would always stand outside until Chisaki welcomed her in. Even asking permission for her therapist appointment. There was something admirable about it -- something Chisaki had to break. 

“Come in,” Chisaki called. His voice carried an airy professionalism. Yellow eyes briefly looked up, but quickly returned to the floor. Chisaki held his lust by memorizing the carpet. 

She shuffled in, gently shutting the door behind her. Despite the miserable crybaby mannerisms, the woman was quite polite. ‘Very well trained for a mutt,’ Chisaki mused. Silence was heavy between them; this weeping woman was never consistent with greetings. Somedays, she wouldn’t choke out a ‘hello’ until deep within her misery. Her words obviously muted by her hands. She liked to cradle her face, Chisaki believed it was to stimulate intimacy. Something she was clearly lacking. 

Settling into a chair, she managed a meek ‘hello’ before salty tears brimmed her eyes. Chisaki snuck a glance; she looked in pain. Her bottom lip stuck between teeth. The woman nibbled at the flesh. Anything to alleviate her sadness. The sharp pain was a perfect anchor.

‘I won’t cry. I won’t cry in front of him today.’ She was going to will herself to hold back tears and actually talk. It was kind enough of Dr. Chisaki to let her openly bawl. In all honesty, the woman hated herself for it. At this point, she was only paying him to watch. The poor man was probably too shy -- too professional to ask her to quit. She was abusing his altruism. The woman bit back a shiver, puffing out her chest. Swallowing sadness. 

Chisaki looked up. Silence between them this early was… "Are you okay?" Her name comes out like a melody. Something he wants to say forever. Chisaki gripped his clipboard. He needed to ground himself. Find haven in reality. 

She stares back, "I come here bec--"

"Don't say it," he murmured. Hand resting comfortably on her thigh. There was an obvious barrier; her leggings. Plush. Almost like her pillowy thighs. Chisaki groped at the plump flesh; "You're so soft." His fingers wander to pinch, "It's disgusting."

The woman remained quiet. Debating with his hand creeping toward her thigh felt dangerous. Dr. Chisaki made her feel dirty; lewd, maybe? She wasn’t sure. The heat in her core was becoming overwhelming. Her mouth moved to speak, but nothing fell out. Empty.

“Silent now, are we? What happened to your big speech? Tell me about how you’re feeling… right now.” His words were a command. No trace of a request. Chisaki needed to hear her quake; wiggle against his clothed bulge. 

Saliva pooled in her mouth. Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety. 

“I want to go home,” She blubbered, voice strained and whining. Her vision was blurry at best. Everything was splotchy. Dr. Chisaki was an imposing shape of purple and black. She knew he wore a tie; simple deep purple. Shirt. His shirt is black. It takes her a moment to compose thoughts. His hand and her only time to weep were overstimulating.

Chisaki continued his assault, fingers violently rubbing at her covered slit. He wanted to see a tear before the gloves. Before her examination. His cock pulsated at the thought. Latex in her mouth, stuffing her with the cure his cock. A shock -- an orgasm (even this word was perverse to Chisaki) would dislodge any feverishness. Dissipation. Her cries for him. 

“You’re crying,” Chisaki commented; hand slow against her crotch, “Little crybaby.” 

The woman muffled a sob and instead bit her lip. Blood bloomed in the corner of her smile. The doctor was a curse. This was illegal. He shouldn’t be touching her like this. 

He sighed.

“Nothing just as I suspected.” 

“This... “ A heave interjects, “This is my time. I can’t express myself like this.” She motions to her tears. Honestly, the woman was high-strung. Revealing herself -- taking off a mask -- was cathartic. Liberation in its purest form. 

He pursed his lips and harshly removed his hand. The auburn haired man stood up; crossing the room to a benign black bag. Chisaki rooted around for his gloves. Latex, white, a barrier between them. Chisaki wanted to touch her briefly -- skin to skin was important. Necessary. Something unavoidable. 

A snap resounded through the room. Loud. Interrupting. Chisaki wanted to be heard. He wanted her to gawk; eyes glued to him. 

Her face erupted into confusion. Fear nestled into her veins. Too cold, too much. "What is..?" The woman's voice is quiet and still muffled from tears. 

'This is the cutest you've looked, isn't it?' Chisaki thought of pinching her cheeks, examining the damage. His pants constricted. It was a kindness to teach this wrenched woman her place. 

"Keep talking. This is a part of your therapy," Chisaki stated plainly. He rummaged in the bag further, producing something thin and shiny; metallic caught in the fluorescence. Uncomfortable by the sight, the woman shifted her gaze to his feet. His choice of footwear was odd. Polished, tar black boots. His footfalls were anything but quiet. Roaring. Really, she found it intimidating. 

“Please…” She didn’t know why she begged like this. Dr. Chisaki wasn’t supposed to be this cruel. He was a therapist -- her therapist. He seemed so balanced before. Normal. And yet the man before her stood with molten eyes and a scalpel. 

Slowly, the auburn haired man strode toward her. As if he were a lion savoring his meal. Inspection for prime dread. “Don’t be stupid and move. It’d be a shame if I,” Chisaki paues to taste the words, “hurt you.” Like any greedy man, Chiaski expected resistance. 

But like a good little doe, she stares into the scalpel. ‘So moronic shiny things distract you.’ In a way, he found it enduring. She was so pathetic, so useless without his sympathetic ear. Functioning without him must be a chore; he was her sanctuary. 

He stops in front of her, boot tapping against wood. “I think it’s beneficial you learn your place, don’t you? Society must be so pressuring for you. As your licensed healthcare professional, it’s my business.”

The woman gathered remaining courage. 

“I’ll call the police.” Before her threat was tangible, Chisaki grabbed her wrists. They fit perfectly in one gloved hand. 

“Stop being such a little crybaby bitch.” Cool metal touches her cheek. A warning from Dr. Chisaki. 

A shiver overtook her spine. The scalpel was new, shiny, and sharp. He could slice into her face right now, nothing was truly stopping him. Anxiety bubbled in her mind. This man was dangerous. Maybe, maybe monstrous. He listened to her, let her reveal such an intimate part, only to turn on her trust. Betrayal in the worst form. 

The woman doesn’t respond.

“Get on all fours,” Chisaki commanded. He punctuated his sentence with a shove. “You’re such a pig bitch, you know that right? It’s sad you think anyone would listen to you sob.”

Her eyes grew into shock. With trembling hands, the woman gets on her knees. Her palms were flat atop spotless wood. Dr. Chisaki was quirky like that. If anything, she admired him for it. He seemed so disciplined. ‘All lies,’ she thinks, melancholy stuck in her eyes. Her heart practically ached. Ached for herself, ached for him.

His lips curled into a smirk. Eyes genuinely wrinkled. Finally, this succubus learned. A jolt of excitement shot through his cock; the member twitching. 

“Kiss my boots.”

She blinked at his demand. Her mind had to catch up. She needed to absorb the sentence. Should she resist, kick him, and take off? Could she? Her mind swirled with violent images. Large hands wrapped around her throat. His naked body sweaty against hers. 

The woman decided to comply. Chisaki watched in anticipation as her lips made contact with glossy leather. Staying up to wax them was worth it for this. Every fantasy was drab compared to her. She was meek; placing light kisses. Her lips ghosted and left little spit puddles in her wake. Chisaki felt a certain hotness in his stomach. The act was so disgusting, and yet, Chisaki was grinding his bulge into his palm. 

Suddenly, the woman stopped and looked up at her confidant. “Can I -- please -- can I leave now?” 

Chisaki frowns. She doesn’t sound broken enough. ‘Fixed enough,’ he corrects. ‘She needs to be fixed. Cured.’

“Did I say you could stop?” The auburn man sneered. He stomped his boot, his patient mask falling. “Keep kissing them. Slobber on them, little pig. Show me how worthless you are.”

Her tongue whirled around, saliva dotting his boots. She sounded flustered. Huffs and soft squirming. “How are you feeling? You seem to be enjoying it.” 

Without meeting his predatory gaze, she whimpered in between sloppy kisses, “I -- I love this so much, Dr. Chisaki.” Such an obedient crybaby. 

“We know each other enough for Kai, you know that.” 

Eager yellow eyes watched. Excitement lit up inside his veins. Hot and unable to reject. 

Being complacent was her only means of survival now. She stopped, doe eyes boring into him.

Drool trailed from her lips, joined with his boot. “Kai, can I?” Her warm hand removed his and rubbed his crotch. Delicate fingers feeling his length, massaging girth and veins. A vibrating, rough groan escaped Chisaki. Something deep. Something feral. It was a sound the woman couldn’t fathom. 

And yet, she felt a tingle between her thighs. 

Chisaki stroked her face. Squishy and tear-stained; she should be embarrassed. How humiliating must it be to grovel and sob? It was pitiful in a way. Broken. Pathetic. “Let me see how much you want my cock, like the filthy pig you are. So greedy.”

In response to his harsh words, the woman graciously unbuckled his sleek belt, and quickly unbuttoned his slacks. His cock was constrained underneath boxer-briefs. The cut showed off his calves, toned and lean. Being this close to Chisaki reminded her how big he was -- he towered over her. 

She fumbled with the hem of his underwear. Unsure if he wanted her hand or her mouth. 

Noticing her confusion, Chisaki brought a gloved finger to her lips, “Suck.” 

The woman shook while she tugged down Chisaki’s boxer-briefs. His cock -- slick with pre-cum -- sprung from their cloth prison. She winced at his size; he would spear her. Shoving away lewd images, she gently stroked him. An experimental touch before she took him into her mouth. His cock was heavy in her mouth. The girth of Chisaki made her cheeks puff. Gently, she tried to work his cock to the back of her throat. His bulbous tip made her gag, a sensation that had Chisaki instinctively forcing his cock down her esophagus. Her walls contracted around him. In a panic, the woman tried to shove him away. The action was futile, which left her with one option: digging her nails into him. Piercing his thighs to get him to stop. 

“Don’t be so rough, piglette.” Chisaki tugged at her hair until she winced, an audible squeal was muffled by his violent thrusting. Spit dribbled down her chin, landing on her chest. Her face was awash with crimson, discomfort in her features. Chisaki took her in like fine wine. Delicious and sweet. 

Her wet tongue tangled with his cock, exploring every inch of him. Hot breath pistoned from her nose. Her nails were still pricking him. Pain mixed with pleasure, until the hot bundle within his stomach felt as if it might explode. Salty pre-cum flooded her mouth; the taste resulting in a sour face. Chisaki knew he’d cum if she didn’t stop. 

Chisaki pushed the woman away. Surprised and caught off guard, she lost balance, slamming her palms on the floor. 

Chisaki stepped out of his clothes and crouched down. The auburn man decided to instead examine her face, and allow his fingers free-range over her delicate body. 

“Stay still,” Chisaki advised, his fingers manipulating the doughy flesh of her breast. She was as soft as he imagined. He could easily bruise her; give her marks that screamed, ‘you belong to Kai Chisaki.’ But he resisted. “Take off your blouse -- slowly -- and tell me how sad and pathetic you truly are.” 

“I’m… I’m so sad all the time. I just have this -- oh god -- I have this deep sadness and it feels suffocating, Kai. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

Her body stiffened at his request. The words were too harsh. Too rough. She lifted up her shirt and tossed it behind her. She looked away as Chisaki’s monstrous gaze transversed her chest. 

“The bra too, piggie.”

Taking off her bra added another layer of awkwardness. This wasn’t the first time a man saw her like this -- exposed and sweaty… but his hungry eyes sent chills through her. An electricity of unease. 

Cruel hands fondled her breasts. His fingers were faint over her nipples. She leaned into his touch, back arched. Barely audible mewls flew from her lips. Her body betrayed her. It was degrading. She should already be out the door and dialing the police. But no, her body craved him. ‘A compliant little pig.’ Chisaki hands wandered to her hip and played with the edge of her skirt. His motions were playful. This side of him was tolerable. Chisaki was like a school boy; bashful and nervous.

“Now, how are you feeling?” Chisaki asked. His tone was condescending; he wasn’t asking out of benign professionalism, but hateful interest. 

Her mouth opens and then closes. Unable to compose a response, the woman simply places a hand over his. 

Slapping her thigh, Chisaki chides her, “Speak, pig. Use your idotic words and tell sir how you feel.” 

She gulps. 

“I feel sick. This is shameful, s-sir.” The lewd title causes her blush to deepen. Cheeks flush with embarrassment and delight. Chisaki saw his treatment was finally starting to take hold. 

Chisaki snakes a hand under her skirt, massaging her slit once more. Her arousal was still there, clinging wet panties to her cunt. The woman bit her lip trying to stifle groans. The mixture of his fingers on her breast and between her thighs was almost too much. Sweat gathered at her brow as Chisaki slipped a finger into her soaking core. His slender finger pistoned in and out; snapping against her lips. The auburn man had a lack of mercy, his mouth clasped over her neck. Hot mouth sucking at tender flesh. His tongue circled around the abused patch of skin, desperate to savor her. 

The room was an ensemble of depravity; their moans mixed with the squelch of her pussy. She bucked into his digit, her body hurting for the stimulation. Heat built in her stomach, like a balloon filled with fire. The sensation continued to expand until it peaked; a high pitched squeal marking her orgasm. 

There was a popping sound and then, “So excited you cum already, pitiful, and I was hoping you’d squirm more. You want my cock, don’t you?” His finger leaves her cunt. Spongy walls now empty and wanting. 

She nodded, too ashamed and drunk on her own high to function. 

Unsatisfied by her response, Chisaki grabbed her face. Her rosy cheeks squished in his grip. Chisaki realized she was cute like this. A little puffy fish. 

“You’re being such an annoying pig. My patience is growing thin. Tell me. Tell me you want my cock.” His sentence stumbled from him, in between heavy breaths. 

The woman buried her face in his chest, “Please fuck me, Kai. I need it -- please, please, please.” She broke out into a series of pleas mixed with crying. Her body was still numb, still too high to really anticipate more. Overstimulated and teary eyed. 

“On your back,” Chisaki breathed, his face slightly flushed. He maneuvered her bare body and spread her legs around his wiry waist. Her knees hooked at an angle, like a spider.

Chisaki lined himself up with her tender, violated hole. “You’re so fucking insignificant.” His first thrust was hard and without warning. She gasped and placed her palms on his chest. Carnivorous, gold eyes looked down at her, mouth open and panting. His hips snapped against the back of her thigh. The sound was sharp against their perverse moans. A chorus of vulgarity. His girth made her cunt ache, sensitive walls stretched and full. “Do -- do you know how miserable you make me, little crybaby?” Forming sentences was hard. Chisaki’s cock was sucked in by her cunt; stuck in a death grip. ‘Gonna milk me for every bit of cum, aren’t you, piggie?’

Her hands roamed his chest. His relentless pumping was too much. She needed to grab something. To ground herself back into reality and not a cum induced daze. His veins added texture. Something so stimulating the woman found herself atop another peak. Ready to descend. However, Chisaki hadn’t quite reached nirvana. The cool air desensitized him. The heat of her pussy was like a shock. 

“Focus on me.” His raspy voice brought her back into the moment. Squishy body jiggling from the force of Chisaki. Lidded eyes rolled over to gawk at Chisaki. Blissed out. “Honestly, your little crybaby face is cute like this, piggie.” A light slap smacked against her cheek, as if to further compliment her. 

Chisaki’s rutted into her sloppy cunt until the hot brand in his stomach exploded; a deep groan vibrated from his chest as cum squirted into her cunt. He milked each thrust, until his balls lazily slapped against her. Tears streaked her face. Eyes glazed over with ecstasy. He grabbed her face once more. A close up look of the damage, “You did so well for a stupid little crybaby.

[intheticklecloset]

Give Up, Deku! (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

I’m now halfway through season four of MHA and I STILL LOVE IT SO FREAKING MUCH. Gaaaahhhh!! I can’t wait to find out what happens AND write all sorts of fun tickle fics for this fandom! ^^

Note: This fic is not part of the 12 Days of Ficmas.

~

Deku didn’t really get into moods often. It was like he’d told everyone before: he didn’t mind being tickled, but he was so sensitive he usually couldn’t take it very long. But something had changed in the last couple of days. Ever since Bakugou had revealed his secret to everyone in the dorm, all of his classmates would randomly poke him, scribble against a ticklish spot, or tease him verbally about how ticklish he was. Everyone had gotten in on the fun of making Deku laugh at least once a day.

Everyone, that is, except Bakugou.

With every day that went by, Deku wished more and more that his old friend would join in on the fun, even if only for a moment. But the atomic blonde was grumpy as ever. Even when Deku was being tickled outright by someone, he’d just walk by like it wasn’t happening. It was confusing and honestly a little disappointing. He’d been the one to out him – so why wasn’t he taking part in any of it now?

Finally, one evening, he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t even focus on his homework, he was so hung up on why Bakugou wouldn’t tickle him. With a muttered apology, Deku left the others in the study circle and took the elevator up to the floor that housed his old friend’s dorm room. All the way to the elevator, during the ride, and even after disembarking he didn’t know what he was going to do. So when he found himself in front of Bakugou’s door, prepared to knock, he surprised himself.

He was even more surprised when Bakugou opened it before he lifted a hand.

The explosive teen stopped in his tracks, blinking once before a mask of annoyance flitted over his face. “What do you want?”

Deku was struck mute, suddenly. Not that he’d had any idea what he would have said before, but now, looking into the angry eyes of Bakugou, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He shook his head. “N-Nothing. Sorry.”

“Tch.” Bakugou shoved past him, walking down the hall toward the elevator. “Stupid nerd.”

Deku, for his part, remained frozen where he was, now in front of the door leading to an empty dorm room, wondering what to do next. His floor was below this one; if he wanted to go to his room he’d have to get on the elevator with Bakugou, and that wasn’t a great idea. So he stood there, staring at the closed door, frantically wondering what to do.

Bakugou reached the elevator, pressed a button, and turned around, confused to see Deku exactly where he’d left him, looking completely lost.

The elevator door began to close, but in a sudden move Bakugou thrust out his arm to keep it open. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Huh?” Deku blinked and turned to him. “Oh! N-Nothing!” He held up his hands and backed away from the door. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Bakugou growled, getting back off the elevator to saunter down the hall toward the green-haired boy. Deku, for his part, suddenly seemed panicked. For a moment he was a deer in headlights, then all at once he backed up against the wall between dorm rooms, watching as Bakugou approached him. “Why were you standing outside my door like a creep?”

“I-I…” Deku stammered, heart thudding in his chest. This was a perfect moment for him to tell the truth, to ask Bakugou why he wouldn’t tickle him. But he couldn’t form words. “I-I…I wasn’t…”

“Spit it out!” Bakugou roared, slamming his hands on either side of Deku’s face, trapping him against the wall. Deku yelped in startled surprise, flinching automatically, and when he looked into Bakugou’s eyes again he suddenly felt weak at the knees. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Bakugou would think he was even more of a moron, and they had finally started being on shakily decent terms. He couldn’t.

“N-Nothing, Kacchan, I…” Deku gulped and slid down the wall, his knees finally giving out. “I changed my mind. It’s nothing.”

“Changed your mind about what?” Bakugou growled, staying right where he was, towering over Deku with a menacing demeanor.

“I…I can’t!” Deku cried, hiding his face in his hands. “I can’t do it. I was going to ask you something but now that we’re here I can’t do it, Kacchan!”

To his surprise, he was met with silence. He stayed hiding behind his hands for a few moments before daring to peek through his fingers. Bakugou was still there. He hadn’t left. He was just…standing there. Then suddenly he was crouching down so he was at eye level with Deku.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice a little softer. Not much, but just enough.

This time when Deku met his eyes, he didn’t see anger or hatred. He just saw confusion and an oddly genuine interest.

“I-It’s just that…you told everyone that I was ticklish, and they’ve all been tickling me ever since.” Deku’s words came out in a quiet rush. He averted his eyes. “Everyone except you.”

Bakugou scoffed. “You don’t want me to tickle you. You know I put one-hundred and ten percent into everything I do. You would die.”

“But I do want you to!” Deku blurted before he could lose his nerve. “I do, Kacchan! I know you’re brutal. I know you’re merciless. But I want that.”

Bakugou was silent again. He watched Deku for a long moment, expressionless, eyes giving nothing away. Then he reached for Deku’s shirt collar and yanked him harshly away from the wall, shoving him down to the floor of the hallway and straddling his hips in one swift movement.

Deku’s eyes went wide. “W-Wait!”

“It’s too late for that, nerd.” Bakugou smirked evilly, sliding his hands under Deku’s shirt, curling his fingers into claws, and digging roughly into his ribs. “You said you wanted it. So here you go.”

“N-No! WahahaHAHAHAHAIT!!” Deku shrieked, limbs flailing as Bakugou tickled him ruthlessly. “KAHAHAHAHAHACCHAN!!”

Bakugou said nothing. He merely continued to dig his fingers methodically into Deku’s ribs and sides, making the smaller hero squeal and shake with laughter, a bright red flush coming to his cheeks as he shook his head.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku knew begging would be useless now, so for the moment he gave himself up to hysterical laughter. When the others tickled him here he usually only giggled unless multiple ticklers were involved. But the others held back because they knew how ticklish he was, how easily overpowered he was. Bakugou didn’t care about any of that. He was rough, precise, absolutely relentless. Which is exactly why Deku wanted him to take care of this rare mood of his. “GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! KACCHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!”

“Is that all you can do? Say my name?” Bakugou mocked, evil smile still in place. “Come on, Deku. Be more original than that. At least let me hear some begging.” He slid his clawed fingers down to his hips, and the smaller boy absolutely screamed.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NONONONONO NOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!” Deku pleaded, trying to push Bakugou off of him but too weak to do more than tap lightly on his arms. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“You did this to yourself, idiot.” Bakugou suddenly thrust one of his hands up to cover Deku’s mouth, muffling his screams and cries for mercy. “Tickle, tickle, little nerd. Heh.” His victim turned an even darker shade of red and thrashed harder than before, trying to pry one hand from his mouth and the other from his hip. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little teasing? I told you you didn’t want me to tickle you. I’m not stopping now. One-hundred and ten percent, remember?”

For a brief moment Deku managed to free his mouth. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP I CAHAHAHAHAN’T--!!” Then he was muffled again.

Bakugou smirked. “Can’t take it, huh? Too bad, Deku. I warned you. You asked for this. Now suffer the consequences.”

Deku was losing his mind. Bakugou’s clawed fingers tickled so much, and he was screaming and kicking and flailing desperately, all to no avail, unable even to beg for mercy. What had he done, getting himself into this mess? And Bakugou wouldn’t leave that spot, either! He just stayed hooked there, moving wherever Deku bucked and squirmed, merciless in his targeting of his victim’s weakest spot.

After another minute or so Bakugou finally let up, but only to grab Deku’s wrists and shove them above his head, towering over him as he gasped for breath. “Regretting this yet?”

“K-Kacchan…” Deku gasped, face bright red and still giggling slightly. He looked up at Bakugou’s evil smirk and shivered under that intense gaze. “Why haven’t you done this before?”

Bakugou scoffed again. “I knew you couldn’t handle it. You aren’t handling it. Look at you; you’re a mess. You’re ridiculously ticklish, and I knew if I ever had you like this I wasn’t going to go easy on you. I never hold back.”

“B-But I wanted you to do this, didn’t you see that?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bakugou shifted so he was holding both of Deku’s wrists with one hand. The other hovered dangerously close to his underarm. “Say you give up.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Deku protested seconds before being thrust back into ticklish hysterics. “GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“Say you give up, Deku!” The atomic blonde growled, going harder than before. “Let me hear you say it!”

“WAHAHAHAHAHAIT!! WHAHAHAHAHAHAT DO YOU MEHEHEHEHEAN IT D-DOHOHOHOHOESN’T MAHAHAHAHATTER?!”

Bakugou growled louder this time, releasing his hold on Deku’s wrists to plunge both hands into both underarms. Instantly Deku’s arms shot down, only further trapping his assailant, making his laughter reach new levels of hysterics.

“You push yourself beyond your limit all the time, Deku!” Bakugou shouted to be heard over the ruckus. “You always say it’s fine but everyone knows it’s not! You said you wanted this, but look at you now! You can’t take it! We both know you can’t! Give up already!”

Deku could only shake his head and cry, “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Bakugou did stop, once again grabbing Deku’s wrists and pinning them down, keeping him trapped. “Why won’t you give up, dang it?”

“Because…this isn’t…like the other times…I’ve pushed myself…” Deku gasped for breath every couple of words. “I’m not fighting…I’m not punching or…or kicking…I’m just being tickled.” He took a deep breath and looked up at Bakugou. “That’s all, Kacchan. You know this isn’t hurting me.”

“You’re losing your mind.”

“Sometimes it’s good to get out of your head for a while.” Deku smiled. “Besides, the truth is, I knew you were the only one who wouldn’t go easy on me. That’s why I wanted to you do it so bad.”

“You wanted to be completely helpless, laughing your guts out like this?”

Deku swallowed. “This time, yeah.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, then brought Deku’s arms down so he could pin them at his sides with his knees. He cracked his knuckles and grabbed the smaller boy’s hips, digging ruthlessly. “Fine. I’ll make you give up.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO NOT AGAHAHAHAHAHAIN!!”

“You wanted this.” Bakugou smirked, keeping up his steady pace, knowing it would break his rival eventually. “Now man up and take it. Tickle, tickle, tickle.”

“GAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Deku tossed his head back and screamed with renewed hysterics, his face going dark red all over again. “DOHOHOHOHOHON’T TEHEHEHEHEASE ME!!”

“Idiot. You just dug your own grave. Tickle, tickle, tickle!” Bakugou couldn’t help but smile at the shriek that ripped out of Deku at his words. “What’s wrong? The big, strong heir of All Might can’t take a little teasing?”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Hmm. All Might. I wonder what he’d say if he saw you like this, completely at my mercy. Oh, and wait until I tell him you asked for this.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! KACCAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!”

“That’s right. The wannabe hero brought down by just a little tickling. You’d better hope no villains find out about this little secret.”

Deku was laughing so hard tears had come to his eyes now. One spilled down his cheek as he begged for mercy. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, KACCHAN!! NO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE!!”

Something about the way Deku said ‘please’ in this scenario made Bakugou feel an extreme sense of victory. It was pure, unadulterated desperation, coming from his childhood friend turned enemy turned rival. It was all so perfectly satisfying.

“Say it again.”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!” Deku screeched, a red-faced, teary-eyed puddle of pure laughter. “PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Give up, Deku!”

“ALL RIHIHIHIHIHIGHT I GIHIHIHIHIHIHVE UP!! I GIVE UP!! PLEHEHEHEHASE!!”

Bakugou stopped tickling, grinning in satisfaction at having won this little battle. He climbed off of Deku as the poor hero gasped for air, curling into a ball on the floor.

“Happy now?” Bakugou muttered when it seemed Deku had finally caught his breath.

Deku nodded weakly. “T-Thanks, Kacchan.”

“Whatever, nerd. Don’t get used to it. I’m still going to take you down and become the number-one hero.” He got to his feet, smirking down at his rival as he shakily sat up against the wall. “Shouldn’t be too hard, considering that I know about this.”

“Y-Yeah, well…” Deku mustered a smirk of his own and looked up at him. “Don’t get cocky. You forget that I know you’re ticklish, too.”

“Shut up!” Bakugou yelled, turning on his heel and storming down the hall toward the elevator.

Deku laughed all over again.

~

Read the sequel story: Get Back Here, Deku! 

[plus-ultra-oof]

Guilty?? | Bokuto & Kuroo | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: Okay now is probably the time to admit that I’m lowkey obsessed with Kuroo. The number of stupid ideas I have for him on the daily is absurd XD

Disclaimer: Swearing ig

Summary: Kuroo’s kneepads are missing and there’s no way he’s letting the thief get away with it. Bokuto, his number one suspect, is not going to let Kuroo get away with accusing him.

——————————————————

“Is that a threat?” Bokuto asked, narrowing his eyes at Kuroo from his place pressed against the gym wall. They were standing nearly chest to chest, with Kuroo glaring at him accusingly. Normally, he’d smirk right back in his face, but he was in a bit of a predicament right now. His breath was coming in more shallow as he tried to subtly pull back from the weight of a hand resting on his stomach. The warmth of it seeping through his thin shirt made it very hard to ignore.

“I don’t know, Bo,” he purred, using his extra centimeters to loom over Bokuto as much as he could. Then the ghosting at his abdomen squeezed and a gasp slipped out against his will, “Did you or did you not steal my knee pads?” Bokuto groaned and squinted at him, wondering if all of that hair was blocking his ears. His friend had been asking him the same question over and over until they’d come to be in this position. A little too vulnerable in Koutaro’s opinion.

“Ugh I already told you n-nahahaha!” His denial was immediately met with scribbling fingers exploring the sensitive skin around his navel. Bokuto jumped back into the wall giggling up a storm. Kuroo hummed and shook his head.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” He chastised, the words losing their effect with the smug grin on his face. Bokuto ached to wipe it off, but with one of his only hotspots being targeted so quickly, his coordination was suffering.

When he couldn’t force himself to actually move from his fruitless effort to protect his middle and grab Kuroo’s wrists, he decided to try to reason with him.

“Whihihiy wo- ehe would ihihi eheheven dohOHO thahahat?!” He cried indignantly. Kuroo rolled his eyes hard, adding his other hand in to lightly scratch at his waistline.

“Because you’re a sneaky bastard who loves to mess with me!”

“Dahah- doho nohohot!” He yelled, his laughter echoing through the space as he shook his head vigorously. So maybe that was a lie, but Kuroo had no grounds to accuse him or torture him like this!

Kuroo gave him a flat look and dug in a little harder at that, getting actual laughter from his friend. “You literally snuck into my room last night just to steal my snacks to piss me off,”

“I was just hungry! That doesn’t count!” Bokuto panted out as Kuroo stopped just long enough to untuck his shirt and shove his hands up it like the asshole he was. “AHAH Kurohoho!” The scribbling fingers were far more deadly against bare skin.

“Give them back!” He commanded, sending a new wave of tingles through him as he vibrated the hand placed higher. The contact points of his fingers sent the sensations out into the rest of his stomach, and the urge to double over struck Koutaro almost as hard as the stream of boisterous laughter pouring or of him, “I just got them to replace my old ones!”

Bokuto willed himself to focus in on his friend’s words rather than his hands. The way his nerves were lighting up and his body was freaking out was definitely not helping. He felt oddly betrayed as he spoke.

“The ones yOu lohost?” He cursed the way his voice trembled, but the urge to fall apart was getting steadily worse as Kuroo’s fingers drew closer to the center of his stomach.

“Yeah so?” Kuroo asked, his voice suspicious as his hands slowed a bit again to let him speak. Bokuto took the moment to scoff between gulps of air.

“You probably lost them again!” He blurted out, once again, not fully considering his answer. Kuroo scowled and suddenly his lower stomach was receiving some extra unwanted attention. The rapid squeezing drew out some crazed cackles, “Shihihit, ahAHA!”

Kuroo didn’t respond to the guess, focusing instead on how his technique was impacting Bokuto. Upon seeing that he wasn’t looking very apologetic, he went in for the kill.

Bokuto finally did double over when a finger slipped into his navel, the swirling motion sending him over the edge into loud hysterics. Kuroo examined his face as he weakly pushed at his hands, looking for something.

“AhahAH KUROHOHO STAHAP!”

Kuroo sighed, but complied, removing his hands and placing one on his hip as he contemplated the situation. “But I know I didn’t!” He insisted, continuing the conversation like nothing had happened. Even in his annoyed and out of breath state Bokuto could tell that he was truly puzzled. “I put them by my bag before I came to practice with you and Akaashi,” He bit his lip, looking around the gym again. The blocker was far too distracted to notice the way Koutaro was looking at him now that his breathing had returned to normal.

“Well that sucks,” He licked his lips and stood up, leaning forward slightly. Bokuto smirked, and when Kuroo turned back to him, he realized what was going to happen just seconds too late to stop it.

“Bo-“ Kuroo barely got the nickname out before the air was being punched out of him by Bokuto’s solid weight. He’d lunged hard enough to send them both tumbling to the floor, Bokuto landing on top of Kuroo, limbs splayed out awkwardly.

“This is gonna suck worse!” he exclaimed, shifting so his weight pinned Kuroo down by his hips. Kuroo groaned loudly and pushed at his shoulders. When that didn’t work he propped his legs up and tried to use them to move him.

“Bo, c’mon! Get off you’re heavy!”

“Nuh uh, this is revenge!” He replied, his hands finding the hem of Kuroo’s shirt. A flash of skin showed where it’d ridden up and Bokuto’s fingers traced it easily, gradually pushing the fabric up further with each horizontal pass. Kuroo, to his credit, only flinched, managing to hold in a squeak before his struggling increased.

“For what?!” He asked, his voice breaking slightly as he tried to twist his hips away, “I was just- Ahah!” The rest of Kuroo’s sentence was lost as Bokuto moved further up, exposing his navel. He’d wasted no time in returning the earlier favor, wiggling his finger around to his hearts content. Kuroo wasn’t as sensitive as Bokuto there by a long shot, but it was still enough to get him giggling. Especially when his other hand switched to actually crawling up his torso.

“For tickling me for no reason, asshole!” Koutaro answered, pouting at the memory for a second. Then his smirk returned. He’d finally made it up to his ribs and Kuroo was trying to buck him off now, gasps mixing in with his giggles as he tried to anticipate the spiker’s movements.

“You- fuhuhuck!” Kuroo tried to answer but was again cut off by Bokuto’s antics. Finding that squeezing his way up Tetsuro’s sides got him some wheezy cackles, Bokuto doubled his efforts by finally ceasing his torment on his belly button.

Maybe the blocker wasn’t as ticklish on his stomach, but anywhere near his armpits was just as bad, if not worse.

Kuroo flailed, his arms caught between slamming down and coming up to hopefully remove the offending hands. Bokuto chuckled. He was over his momentary annoyance now, so he could admit that watching his friend thrash was thoroughly amusing.

“I didn’t take them Kuroo,” he stated, leaning up to flutter at his neck to make him squeal.

“Ihihi- I don’t belieheheve you!” Kuroo insisted, resorting to squeezing Bokuto’s lower stomach. The guy jolted, falling back slightly. Only Kuroo’s legs, still up behind him, kept him from toppling off of him entirely.

“Whihihiy wouhould lihihi?” Bokuto asked. Laughter bubbled up in his chest again and he chose not to resist it this time. Instead he used his little remaining brain power and self control to continue his attack on Kuroo’s ribs, slipping up higher in response to a particularly well placed grab.

“I dohohon’t knohohow!” Kuroo giggled, looking annoyingly smug for his situation. He even dared to poke at Bokuto’s navel again. When Koutaro doubled over with a gasp, he slipped his hands higher in retaliation. Kuroo’s laughter jumped in volume and he crumbled, “SHIHIHIT NOHOT THEHEHERE!” His arms glued themselves to his sides and his back tried arched off the floor in a last ditch attempt to escape, “STAHAHAHAP!”

Bokuto breathed out a few residual giggles, granted reprieve by his opponent’s weakness, “You first!”

Bokuto grinned openly. Kuroo’s movements were growing clumsier and clumsier. The tingly feeling was mild enough for him to regain control, but for the Nekoma Captain, they were only getting worse the longer they went on, “Y-yohou- AHA!”

“What?” Bokuto teased, drilling into Kuroo’s underarms with practiced precision. His self-satisfied smile said it all. Kuroo couldn’t take this forever and despite his desperate squirming he wasn’t getting anywhere. Bokuto was going to win. Or had already won depending on who you asked.

“FIHIHIHINE!”

Bokuto stopped in an instant, taking one last look at his friend before rolling off of him. His face was fully flushed red and there were even tears in the corners of his eyes. Koutaro snickered as Kuroo got a hold of himself again, earning a shove that only made him laugh harder.

Tetsuro pouted, but didn’t move from his place beside him on the gym floor, presumably too exhausted to get away from his asshole of a rival. He sighed and closed his eyes instead, taking deep breaths to calm himself. After a few seconds, Bokuto broke the silence.

“I swear I didn’t take them bro,” he said, the statement’s honesty finally apparent to Kuroo. He sighed again, the sound far heavier this time. Then he opened his eyes to stare up at the gym ceiling. He didn’t have to look over to feel Bokuto’s eyes on him as he frowned.

“Then where the hell-?”

The gym doors flew open, the movement announced by a loud bang noise, and both Kuroo and Bokuto sat right up in surprise. Kuroo’s eyes narrowed in confusion when he saw that it was his own teammate standing there.

“Hey Kuroo-san! I put your knee-pads back in your bag,” he shouted before turning and leaving with just as loud of an exit. Bokuto blinked as the door shut behind the lanky student and silence fell over the gym again.

Then he turned to Kuroo.

“You let him borrow them?” He asked incredulously. After all that, he’d simply forgotten that he’d loaned them out?

“No,” Kuroo said, his tone freezing over as his gaze sharpened in tandem, “No, I did not,”

Bokuto shivered as the other captain stood up. He knew that look.

Suddenly he found himself feeling a little bad for the first year, having incurred Kuroo’s wrath like this.

“LEV! Get your tall-ass back here!”

[writingwitharlo]

Sound of Comfort

Summary: Teddy isn't a happy bunny, but there is something that can always lift his mood. (tiny bit of angst, little bit of comfort, loads of fluff)

Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley

A/N: no idea what this is but it's whatever, enjoy, i like this idea, haven't really seen this much i don't think

The silence in the Hufflepuff common room was disrupted by the sound of footsteps descending down from the entrance.

Victoire looked up from the book she had been reading to occupy herself as she waited for Teddy to return from his evening's detention. Earlier that day, he had asked her to help him with a potions assignment and, of course, she wouldn't leave him hanging, even though it was already getting late.

Her mouth opened as said boy came into view, ready to ask him how it went, but seeing the dark and tired look on the Hufflepuff's face, her lips shut again. Victoire got to her feet, ready to greet him with a hug, or whatever he needed but before her hand could even made contact with the older boy's arm, he had already pulled away and muttered a low 'Don't touch me' as he headed straight for the boys' dorms.

Confused and concerned, Victoire exchanged a look with Teddy's best friend and fellow Hufflepuff, Caden, who had been lounging around the common room as well.

(Caden and Teddy were the only two Hufflepuff boys sorted into their year, meaning their dorm was only ever occupied by the two of them. This obviously contributed to both of them becoming very close friends, and essentially like brothers.)

Caden shrugged and jerked his head in direction of the boys' dorms, gesturing to Victoire that she should follow him. The Ravenclaw simply nodded and made her way quietly to their shared dorm room.

Carefully, she opened up the door and peeked inside. At first she was unsure if Teddy was even there; the lights were off and there seemed to be no sound. The pile of shoes and clothes next to the dresser, however, told her otherwise.

Victoire inhaled deeply before stepping inside, gently shutting the door behind her but with enough force so that Teddy was aware somebody else was present. With a quick flick of her wand she ignited a couple of lamps, flooding the room in soft warm light.

"Teddy?" she spoke softly, observing the lump underneath the covers on the far left bed. When it didn't move, Victoire approached slowly, settling down next to it quietly and resting a gentle hand on top what she could only guess was Teddy's shoulder.

They stayed like that for a little while until the lump moved, but only enough to lift one corner of the covers. Victoire didn't need to be told twice; she took the corner and scooted closer to the warm body underneath, draping the covers over the two of them.

Victoire's arms slid around his torso as she pressed herself close to the other's back, her nose burying into the back of his neck. Only their heads were now poking out from the covers. Teddy had stripped off his jeans and socks, leaving him in his boxers and the long-sleeve shirt he had worn all afternoon.

"What happened?" Victoire whispered quietly, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

"It's stupid," Teddy grumbled, his voice a little raspy.

"It can't be that stupid if it made you this upset."

There was more silence and Victoire almost accepted that she would not be finding out today, but with a huff Teddy began explaining the argument he had gotten into during his detention with a Slytherin boy.

It didn't sound like it had been a serious argument, but by the end of it Professor McGonagall decided to check on them, just as they reached the height of the argument. Of course the Slytherin threw him under the bus and Teddy got dealt another days detention.

Victoire couldn't help the soft giggle that spilled over her lips, causing Teddy to look back over his shoulder at her. She slightly released her grip on him, allowing him to turn over and fully face her. "Sorry," she whispered, placing a hand over her mouth. She didn't mean to be insensitive.

Teddy pouted at her, but he already seemed less upset than when he had first returned. Nevertheless, Victoire opened up her arms for him, allowing the Hufflepuff to snuggle close. His head rested against her chest, tucking itself beneath her chin as his arms snaked around her body instinctively.

Victoire's fingers found their way into the other's blue hair, combing through the soft curls. "Tell me, what can I do to chase away this grumpy-grump?" she asked softly, scratching the back of Teddy's scalp and smiling as she felt him melt into her touch.

Teddy didn't reply with words, only a soft groan.

"Is this helping?" Victoire asked with a chuckle, focusing the gentle scratches to the base of his scalp.

Another hum.

Victoire laughed, letting her head fall back onto Teddy's pillow. It would never stop being adorable how much Teddy's mood could be affected by physical affection, it was like dating a human sized puppy.

Teddy's arms tightened around her, drawing her closer by her waist. He had his arms placed between her cardigan and the vest top she was wearing, giving his hands full access to rub her back.

The Ravenclaw smiled to herself, letting her eyes flutter shut as she felt his warmth traveling up and down her back slowly before sliding back around her waist.

One thing Teddy inherited from his father was his lankiness. Built tall and lean, his arms could easily fully encompass Victoire in their grip. He held her so close, that his hand could reach the respective opposite sides of her waist.

Victoire let out a content sigh, planting a couple gentle kisses to the top of the other's head.

Teddy slowly lifted his head, looking up at the Ravenclaw with a face of innocence. "I think I know what might help," he mumbled quietly.

Victoire raised a questioning eyebrow, bringing one of her hands up to brush a stray curl out of Teddy's face. "Yeah? And what would that be, my love?"

Before she had even fully asked the question, Victoire knew she was in for trouble.

Teddy's eyes darkened slightly and a playful smirk tugged at his lips.

Only a sharp inhale of anticipation was heard before the poised fingers struck their target. Victoire let out a shriek of surprise at the meticulously executed attack before she was subjected to a peal of giggles. The fingers rapidly clawed at the softer parts between her lower ribs.

It wasn't often that Victoire found herself on the receiving end of these torments. Quite early on, even before they started dating, Victoire was aware of Teddy's persistent physical touches. A squeeze to the knee, an arm wrapped around the shoulders, a quick scribble to the back of the neck, it was Teddy's most frequent gesture of affection. So it only made sense that the Hufflepuff boy craved similar gestures in order to receive the same affection.

It didn't take long for Victoire to realise that Teddy would purposefully put himself into situations that would make him victim of a good tickle. Whether that was being extra sassy with his responses, or annoying Victoire when she was trying to study, or even just playfully tackling Caden to the nearest cushioned surface, it would always eventually lead to the same scenario.

Now that Victoire and Teddy had spent more time together and learned more about the other's ways, it almost came natural. Of course, this was one of the less common situations.

"You're mehean!" Victoire protested as she tried to push Teddy away by his shoulders. His grip was so tight, however, there was absolutely no chance she would be able to free herself.

"I'm just taking up your offer to help me," Teddy replied, the smile on his face much to smug for the Ravenclaw's liking.

Every now and again, Teddy would get into these moods where nothing but a squirming Victoire beneath him could quite satisfy.

Teddy let one of his hands climb higher up Victoire's ribcage, forcing her to clamp her arms down, which was futile since another set of arms was already in the way.

"Nooho! Ted!"

Teddy grinned and halted his attack. His grip loosened and his hands settled flat against her back where they wouldn't do any real damage.

"Merlin," Victoire panted, a few residual giggles still bubbling over. "Next time, give me a head's up at least." She looked down at Teddy's still smug face and rolled her eyes, planting her hand on his face and shoving him away. "You had planned this from the start, didn't you?"

Teddy chuckled as he flopped onto his back. "I didn't actually"

He looked back at her with sincerity. "After you laughed at my detention story, I was reminded that your laugh is actually really comforting."

Victoire wanted to roll her eyes at his sappy reply but from his face she could tell that he was actually being serious and the tips of her ears turned a little warm. "You couldn't have just said that?" she huffed also flopping onto her back.

Teddy shrugged, biting down on his bottom lip. "Where would be the fun in that?"

There was a moment of silence between them, with Teddy watching Victoire, unsure if he had overstepped some line and with Victoire staring up at the dorm ceiling, still a little breathless.

"You're really going to be the end of me, you know that?" Victoire suddenly spoke, sitting up and discarding her cardigan before laying back down.

Teddy's eyes widened in confusion and he propped himself onto his elbow, unsure what she meant.

"You get five minutes. Do your worst."

"W-What?" Teddy asked.

"You heard me."

Teddy got onto his knees, the covers now long forsaken as they slid off the bed onto the floor. "Are you serious? You are serious." He could barely contain the grin that split across his face as he straddled just one of her thighs, giving her enough freedom to kick him off if she really felt the need to.

"Don't eye me up like that, Lupin. Just get it over with already." Victoire wanted to squirm under his intense gaze and felt her body heat up slightly. Even with his disheveled hair and crumpled shirt, he could still express something menacing if he wanted to.

Teddy hovered over her, planting his hands on either side of her head. "You're the best girlfriend, did you know that?" he murmured, pressing his lips against hers for a moment.

As he pulled apart, he grabbed each of her wrists and slowly brought them together above her head where he pinned them easily with one hand.

Victoire swallowed, instinctively tugging at her arms but not surprised when they barely budged. "I hope you know that you'll be getting your share after this."

Teddy chuckled and took in the body beneath him, his eyes getting caught on the strip of skin now visible as the hem of the thin top had rucked upwards.

"Oh, god," Victoire whispered and Teddy looked at her with a smirk, his free hand coming up to lightly trace across the bare skin.

With a suppressed squeak, Victoire tried to suck in her belly as much as possible. Not that that was going to save her.

His hands were warm and gentle, but tickled nonetheless. Only when a finger dipped into her belly button and wiggled deep against its base did Victoire break, a loud clear laugh erupting.

The touch felt like it was coming from inside her body, causing the Ravenclaw to twist her pelvis from one side to the other but with no success.

Now that Teddy had begun he was not holding back. A claw formed over the center of the belly, the fingers twitching just ever so slightly and yet were enough to produce a completely new sound of desperate laughter.

As the tormenting fingers passed by her ribs and reached Victoire's armpit a little while later, she could feel that she was reaching her limit. There was no way of telling how many minutes had passed. For all she knew, it could have been 2 or twenty.

Teddy gave her the shortest of breaks to catch her breath before lightly tracing sloppy lines and circles from her upper arm to her upper ribs and back again.

"Ahaha, fuhuck!" Victoire snorted, making a move to bite at his hand.

Teddy gasped, retracting his free hand but keeping her pinned with the other. "Did you just try to bite me?" he asked accusingly, that certain look in his eyes that always left Victoire feeling giddy and hot.

"Nobody said... I couldn't," she replied factually while still trying to catch her breath.

Teddy licked his lip as his eyebrows shot up and he nodded slowly. "Very well. Nobody said I couldn't either."

Before Victoire could even process his words, Teddy had released her arms, using both hands to grab ahold of the vest top's hem and revealing her full stomach to which he pressed his face, playfully biting and nibbling at the skin.

Victoire shrieked. Not only were the gentle nips and the occasional swirl of his tongue torturous, the 7th year was also starting to grow in a decent amount of stubble, meaning with every movement, the prickly hairs sent tiny electric sparks through the Ravenclaw's nerves.

Said Ravenclaw trying her best to curl in on herself but it was no use. Teddy had found his new target, which meant the only defence was offence.

With her head thrown back in laughter, Victoire blindly searched for his open spots. One hand managed to find its way across the back of his shoulder and into his armpit while the other explored every inch of his exposed neck.

Needless to say, Teddy's attack did not last for much longer, interrupted by scrunched shoulders and shouts of protest. Victoire's revenge was quick to follow.

Only when Caden eventually returned to the dorm were they able to agree on a truce. As they collapsed next to each other, cheeks burning and stomach's hurting, both of them knew they weren't leaving that bed until the next day.

[cycwrites]

WIP Things aka Unofficial Fic Tease

In order to remind myself that I’ve left all of you hanging for the rest of my trilogy rewrite, I thought I would post my unbeta’d, unedited, good with the bad chapter 1 for the second movie. I also have hope that it will make me feel guilty for taking so damn long and get back to it. Especially since I’ve basically closed myself off from writing (and the muses) and I’m trying to pry the doors back open because I really do miss sharing my stories with you guys.

I wrote this well over a year ago, along with a 2nd chapter that deals with the Dean’s office, and really just hope you like it. 

--------

About Damn Time 

Chapter One: So That Happened

Word Count: 2600 -------- ~B~

At the end of Beca’s junior year, two things of note happened.

First: Chloe, once again, made the decision to stay with Beca and the Bellas and failed Russian Lit for the third time.  Beca had tried to talk her out of it, torn between wanting Chloe to move forward in her life beyond Barden and guilt that she was relieved they wouldn’t have to figure out how to work a long distance relationship. She wasn’t ready to try that and couldn’t imagine leading the group without her.  But Chloe had insisted this was where she’d wanted to be and she didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything.

Second: The Bellas were asked to perform at President Obama’s 50th birthday celebration at the Kennedy Center on August 8th.

Beca had laughed when the call had come through the never used landline at the Bella house.

“Good afternoon, this is Mack Johnson and I’m calling on behalf of the White House…”

“Yeah right. Nice try, Jesse.” She hung up and pulled out her cell phone as she walked into the kitchen. Pausing by the counter she typed out a quick message to him.

Beca: I’ve gotta give you points for originality though. You almost sounded like an actual adult.

She poured herself a glass of lemonade before he answered.

Jesse: I’m going to take that as a compliment and ignore the wound to my manly pride, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Beca: Whatever you say, ‘Mack.’ If you’d said you were calling from anywhere but the White House I might’ve let you keep talking.

Instead of answering via text, Jesse called her.

“Are you day drinking, Mitchell?” Jesse clucked his tongue. “Without your lesbro? I’m hurt, Becaw.”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Beca lifted her glass and took a sip. “What inspired your call today?”

“Uh, your cryptic and confusing texts to me, of course.” Jesse chuckled. “Want to clue me in?”

Beca sighed. “Man you’re committed to this.”

“To what?”

Beca set her glass on the counter. “Fine – you just called me and –” She jumped as the phone in the living room rang for only the second time in her years at Barden. “Pretended… to be… from the White House.”

“I thought you said you weren’t drinking?” Jesse laughed but it sounded distant as Beca watched Chloe answer the phone.

Her girlfriend’s blue eyes went wide and locked on Beca’s as she said, “I’m sorry, did you say you’re calling from the White House?”

“Jesse?” Beca said absently.

“Yes, Beca?” His voice took on an echo as all the blood drained from her face.

“I gotta go pass out now.” She swallowed dryly. “I’ll call you later.”

“Beca wa-”

Beca had remained frozen in the kitchen while Chloe became more and more animated, frantically scribbling down notes on the notepad sitting beside the phone, though her voice was carefully calm and collected. Then she’d run into the kitchen, screaming and jumping in excitement and talking faster than Beca’s shocked mind could process. Drawn by the commotion like a frat boy to a kegger, the rest of the girls soon joined the chaos while Beca still stood frozen by the counter as they swirled around her.

The school had allowed them to stay on campus through the summer so they could discuss songs and choreography. The time had been a whirlwind of security checks and practice and everything they planned needed to be vetted by the performance organizers. Of course, since they’d come to the Bellas after their third ICCA win in a row, there weren’t any real problems.

Until the night of the performance when one set of tangled silks and a desire for no panty lines wrecked everything.

No pun intended.

~B~ Sunday, August 24th, 2014

Beca lay on their bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to Chloe pace beside her.

“I’ve ruined everything.” Pace to the head of the bed. “Destroyed our reputation.” Pace back to the foot. “Made the Bellas a joke.”

Beca sighed and pushed herself up on her elbows. “Chloe. It’s a capella. It’s already a jo-” She stopped as Chloe spun to face her, outraged. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Beca tried a smile. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.” She let it slip when Chloe just stared at her and Beca dropped back down to gaze at the ceiling. “Won’t make that mistake again.”

“I’m the one who gave Amy the green-light to do ‘Wrecking Ball.’” Chloe resumed pacing.

“Because, despite most of her claims, she actually had done some training on the silks before coming to the states.” Beca countered, as she had for the past three weeks. “She was good on them and never once in our rehearsals did she get tangled up.”

“But-”

“No.” Beca cut her off and sat up, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged and face her. “We all agreed to let her do it. It was a group vote.” She softened her voice and held out her hand. “This isn’t all on you, Chlo.”

With a sigh, Chloe took her hand and let herself be tugged onto the bed. Beca stretched back out and Chloe settled against her side. “It feels like it.”

“That’s because you’re the one who looks out for us.” Beca gently rubbed her back. “No one could’ve predicted this, love.”

“No…” Chloe said grudgingly. “But…”

Beca cut her off again. “There’s no buts.”

“Except Amy’s.” Chloe huffed, tension that had begun to fade making her stiffen up again in Beca’s arms. “All over the news.” She groaned. “Why didn’t I just use the cloth I was freaking holding to cover her up?”

“Same reason I didn’t,” Beca said reasonably, having heard a version of this several times before. “My mind went blank and I couldn’t move. I just… kept waiting to wake up.”

“Same.” Chloe pressed her nose to Beca’s shoulder. “I still am. This is such a nightmare.”

“She feels bad.” Beca offered. “It was her idea to do that press conference.” She winced as Chloe snorted.

“Yeah, where she then tried to show her ‘silk burn’ to the entire world.” Chloe sat up and pushed herself off the bed. “Again.” She resumed pacing and Beca’s mind hunted around for anything she could say to defuse things.

“At least we saved Aubrey’s college legacy from Pukegate?” Even as the words were out of her mouth Beca knew they were stupid and wrong.

“And ruined ours with Muffgate.” Chloe snarled.

“I wish I could find the asshole that came up with that. Bet it was those podcast people and of course everyone else jumped on it.” Beca made a face. “It was an accident and eventually there will be another crisis for them to focus on.” She slid over to the edge of the bed and swung her legs over. “It won’t be forever, Chlo.”

Pace, turn. “But tomorrow we go see the Dean.” Pace, turn. “With those podcast people who are apparently actually part of the Collegiate A Cappella Association.”

“They’re still weird and he’s an ass.” Beca stood up and stretched as she heard the door open at the bottom of the stairs. “Think you’ll be able to enjoy yourself at dinner tonight?”

Chloe stopped by the small table they inherited from Aubrey and took a deep breath. “Of course. It’s Amy’s birthday. I’m not going to ruin it for her.” She flashed Beca a small grin, the first in an hour. “Why do you think I’m up here instead of downstairs?”

“Speaking of,” a new voice said from the stairs. “There’s maybe… A situation.” Jessica smiled apologetically when they both looked at her as she reached the top.

Beca sighed. “Of course there is.”

“Do I even want to know?” Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Probably not, but Stacie sent me to get you.”

“Coward,” Beca muttered. “She knows I can’t hit you because you’re too nice.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, quick like ripping off a band-aid.”

“Amy’s sitting on the couch. With a towel on her lap.” Jessica hesitated.

“That’s… Why is that a big deal?” Chloe asked, confused.

“She’s… commando. Because of her silk burn.” The blonde’s shoulders bounced once but she didn’t say anything else.

“I swear to fucking god I’m going to glue underwear on her,” Chloe muttered under her breath.

Beca was struck by a horrible thought. “Is she sitting on another towel?”

“We were afraid she’d show us if we asked.” Jessica looked at Beca. “That’s when Stacie sent me to get you.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Beca knew she was whining but couldn’t help it.

“Because you’re the captain.” Jessica shrugged again. “You can threaten her with cardio if she tries to flash us again.”

“Yeah but Amy doesn’t always listen to me and I don’t want to have flashbacks.” Beca reluctantly headed for the stairs as Jessica started back down.

“Birthday or not…” Chloe muttered as she followed.

“I’m sure Lilly has a hot glue gun you can use,” Beca mused, not surprised to find Ashley hanging out in the hallway when they left the attic.

“Don’t tempt me.” Chloe didn’t say anything else the entire trip down the stairs.

Beca rounded the corner, passing Jessica and Ashley who had stopped in the entry and came to a halt herself, Chloe running into her back.

All she could see was the back of Amy’s head but she appeared to be looking straight at Lilly who sat cross-legged on the ottoman and staring back.

“Do I even want to know?” Beca turned her head toward Jessica but didn’t take her eyes off the scene.

“I didn’t ask that either,” came the whispered reply.

Beca took a bracing breath then walked into the living room. Despite the reassurance that the covering towel existed, Beca didn’t relax until she saw it for herself. It was nothing personal against Amy, but Beca just didn’t want to see any of the Bellas naked, Chloe being the obvious exception. You never knew when the visual would pop back in your head and Amy had already shown up enough in the past few weeks to last a lifetime.

“Amy.” Beca looked up at a sound from the kitchen and saw Stacie leaning in the doorway with Cynthia Rose and Flo sitting at the center island.

“Captain.” Amy didn’t turn her head or avert her gaze.

“Are you guys in a staring contest?” Beca frowned, looking between the two women. “And if so why?”

“I don’t know,” Amy lifted one shoulder. “All I know is she hasn’t blinked since she sat down and why take the risk of losing.”

Beca felt her eyes twitch at the thought. “Jesus, please cut it out before my eyes start watering.” She stepped between them and Amy closed her eyes in relief.

“Thanks, Shawshank. That was starting to burn.” She started to lift one corner of the towel to wipe her eyes and Beca threw out her hand.

“Nope. That stays there.” Chloe said it before Beca could.

“Please tell me you’re sitting on another towel.” Beca sighed and ran her hand through her hair.

“Of course I am!” Amy actually looked indignant. “I’m not a heathen, Beca.” She rolled her eyes. “The pants I want to wear to dinner are tight, so I’m giving my bits time to breathe first.”

“Now that’s in my head.” Cynthia Rose muttered from the kitchen.

“That’s in all our heads,” Ashley said from the doorway behind them.

“You could always wear that blue skirt,” Chloe offered diplomatically. “That way you’re not uncomfortable for your birthday dinner.”

“I do look hot in that.” Amy thought about it while the rest of them made sounds of agreement. “Alright, you’ve swayed me. And as it’s almost that time, guess I’ll go upstairs and change.” She started to stand as Beca moved back then paused. “If you’d all turn around and give me some privacy while I wrap?”

Beca rolled her eyes as she turned to face the front window that, thankfully, had the curtains drawn. “That’s what you get for being half naked in the public areas of the house.”

“I got bored in my room.” Beca heard Amy stand up and the rustle of fabric. “Alright, I’m decent.”

“Hey!”

Beca jumped at the unexpected shout and looked over her shoulder. Stacie had come out of the kitchen and was pointing at the couch.

“That’s my favorite towel!” Outage filled her face. “I was looking for that for over a week!”

“It’s also the softest towel in the house.” Amy said as she picked it up, tucking the other firmly around her waist. “It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt when I’m sitting.”

A choked sound from behind her brought Beca’s eyes back around to Chloe, who was biting the inside of her cheek and trying not to giggle. “I’m sure she’ll wash it before she gives it back.”

Beca tried to choke back her laugh and ended up sounding like a pug with a cold as she snickered into her hand.

“I think…” Stacie sighed. “Happy Birthday, Amy. It’s all yours.”

“You sure, Stretch?” Amy threw the towel in question over her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll need it for much longer.”

“Yup.” Stacie nodded emphatically. “I’ll go get another one this weekend.”

“Thanks, Stacie.” Amy smiled at her before her lips twisted slightly. “Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“’S okay.” Stacie shrugged. “Now go get changed so we can celebrate your day.”

“Are you allowed to give me orders on my birthday?” Amy mused as she headed for the stairs.

“Probably not,” Beca said. “But I’ll probably do it anyway.”

“Bossy.” Chloe whispered behind her and Beca flashed her a grin.

“Alright.” Beca clapped her hands once. “Show’s over, let’s go get our party outfits on and get some grub. We’ve got a Bella to celebrate.”

Stacie walked past her, shaking her head. “Bossy.”

Beca let her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling. “I can’t with you two.”

“What?” Stacie paused in the door to the entry. “Did we do the thing again?”

“Yup.” Chloe pushed Beca toward the stairs. “I called her that thirty seconds ago.” She high fived Stacie over Beca’s shoulder when the tall woman grinned and held out her hand.

“Score one for us.” Stacie laughed and started up the stairs.

“I hate you guys.” Beca said weakly as she followed.

“Liar,” Chloe laughed and ran her hand down Beca’s back.

“Maybe.” Beca let Chloe go before her.

“Definitely.”

“Yeah yeah,” Beca waved her up the stairs, unable to help admiring the way Chloe’s muscles flexed as she moved. “But seriously, my stomach just woke up and if I don’t feed it soon it’s going to take over the world.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Stacie saluted as she stepped into her room.

“Smartass,” Beca threw back.

“And you love it.” Stacie closed the door with a laugh.

“Stop flirting with Stacie and let’s go change before you get hangry.” Chloe took her hand and tugged on it.

“She wishes,” Beca muttered but followed Chloe up to their room, ignoring the ‘Often’ that came from Stacie’s room behind them.

‘She’s got bat hearing, I swear.’ Beca thought to herself as she went to the closet to get her outfit for the night.

Tomorrow was still looming over them, but Beca pushed it all away, determined to think about Amy and the Bellas for the rest of the night.

It was one mistake and they’d just won three years in a row. Surely they weren’t in that much trouble.

Right?

[vanillasakura]

So idk if it was just me but the first time I had played rdr2 I misinterpreted the whole Karen becoming a drunkard because of Seans death for her becoming that because of Molly’s Death- I’m not kidding I had no idea about Molly and Karen’s arguments or Sean liking Karen. (I thought Molly and her were pals 😅) So I’m saying what if I wasn’t mistaken- you could even write Karen and Molly as frenimes to lovers potentially- 🐝

Ooh this was so fun to write! I've never really tried my hand at Karen before but turns out she's very fun :D I was spoiled before I played for the first time there wasn't much for me to misinterpret about Molly and Karen's relationship, but I suppose that it could happen.

Title: Like Paprika on the Tongue

Word Count: 2672

Pairing: Karen/Molly

Notes/Warnings: Mentions of Dutch not being the best s/o and its effect on Molly

ao3 link

--

Biting the inside of her cheek so hard that it was almost bleeding, Karen struck a match and lit the sheet of paper on fire, letting it burn and turn black, flaking off and falling to the ground in small chips of ash. Once the flame got near enough to her hand, she dropped it in the bucket she had used to clean the dishes earlier, watching as the last small remnants of the paper spread around the already-dirty water.

Did the paper really deserve this kind of treatment? Realistically, probably not, but Karen couldn’t help that she wanted to be a little more careful than usual. She could have just torn it up and scattered it somewhere in the woods near camp, but she really, really didn’t want to risk anybody finding it.

The paper, borrowed from Mary-Beth’s journal, had been scribbled on, both front and back, with a pen she had also stolen from the other girl while she had been out on a stagecoach robbery with Arthur. Normally, Karen wouldn’t do something this stupid and nonsensical, but she really didn’t want to go to anyone about this, and letting the paper and pen take the brunt of her anger was the only thing she could think of that would help get all of her pent-up feelings out into the open. In large handwriting, slightly straggly from lack of usage and from anger, were the words “I DO NOT HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR MOLLY FUCKING O’SHEA”, written over and over and over again until the entire paper had been filled, pen pressing so deep that it left indents on the opposite sides.

Karen was allowed to have a soft spot for exactly four people. The first two were Tilly and Mary-Beth, because they were her friends and the three of them practically moved as one much of the time. Next up was Jack, literally only because he was like four (Karen didn’t remember his exact age, but she didn’t really care to. all kids under the age of thirteen or so were exactly the same to her,) and because he was always so sweet to everybody. The final and most recent addition to the list was Sean, and that one had snuck up on her too. She hadn't expected him to be so funny prior to meeting him, and couldn’t remember laughing so hard before he had first started dancing drunkenly to Dutch’s gramophone, somehow managing to knock his tent over in the process.

But that was it, those were the only people that Karen was supposed to truly care about. It was a nice, low number, split evenly between men and women, and it meant that she didn’t have to waste her time worrying about people she knew were very preoccupied at best and pieces of shit at worst.

These feelings she was having for Molly just went against everything that Karen believed in. First off, she didn’t respect her, not at all. Molly had such a privileged life back in Ireland, and had voluntarily chosen to leave it behind. She had nobody to blame for that decision but herself, and if the transition to dirty and gritty outlaw life was hard for her, then she best keep it to herself. of course things were going to be vastly different than what she was used to! Besides, she still dressed as though she were a lady with a multitude of servants and a daddy she had to meet for dinner to discuss potential suitors and her role as the daughter of an influential family, and good God were her clothes the hardest to wash and care for. (Karen hadn’t even known people actually wore dresses like that regularly prior to meeting Molly, she had assumed that they were just for fancy occasions, but leave it to that Irish whore to show her just how wrong she was.) Molly was so obviously unhappy being with the gang, she did nothing but sit in her and Dutch’s tent and stare off into the distance, playing the most annoying and ear-grating opera music possible on the gramophone. She had come here for Dutch and stayed here for Dutch, but Karen rarely saw the two of them acting like a couple, if anything, Molly was left on her own most of the time. She supposed that the damn man must have an amazing dick, otherwise there was quite literally zero point in Molly sticking around.

And Dutch, don’t even get Karen started on him. She was thankful to him for providing her a place to live and people to be with, but she did not respect him whatsoever. Dutch Van der Linde was the kind of man who offered nothing to the world other than being really loud and arrogant. what had even drawn Molly to such an asshole in the first place she couldn’t even guess.

Karen did not get soft spots for people who liked Dutch Van der Linde.

But that evening, when she was the only person still awake and heard soft sobs coming from Dutch’s tent, she still walked over to see what was happening and if she could possibly be of any help.

The man himself was out on some job with Arthur and Hosea, sleeping in the middle of the woods somewhere (and probably horribly dirtying up their clothes in the process, because men never did seem to understand that you could sleep on a jacket and not get mud and dirt all over yourself), leaving Molly alone as a result. Without one of history’s most insufferable assholes around, Karen had no problem at all putting her hand through the closed tent flap. (okay, well maybe she did have a problem, but it was with herself and her stupid head rather than the presence of a loud-mouthed idiot.)

“Hey, you alright?” she asked softly.

“Karen?” Molly sniffed. “Am I being loud? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake, I just wanted to check on you.”

“I appreciate the concern, Miss Jones, I really do, but I'm fine, I promise.”

“You sure? you don’t sound fine, no offense.”

“You don’t need to trouble yourself with me.”

“Simple yes or no, Miss O’Shea. If you don’t want me here, no offense taken. If you want some company, well, I’m extendin’ the offer, so it’s obvious it ain’t a problem.”

Molly was quiet for a second as she mulled over Karen's offer. “Hold on, I'll come get the tie undone.”

She shuffled over to the entrance, untying the flap and holding it back for Karen. She entered quickly, maneuvering around Molly, who made no haste in taking a seat down the edge of the cot. No lights were on, making it a bit hard to see, but with the low flicker of lanterns from outside and the knowledge that her eyes would soon adjust, Karen wasn’t that worried.

She wasn’t quite sure where to sit (where were you supposed to sit with a woman like Molly that wouldn't be offensive or whatever?), but ended up just taking the spot next to her, the cot creaking with the added weight of another body.

Karen chose not to say anything, hoping that her presence would be enough to help calm Molly down, as it usually did the trick with Mary-Beth, whenever she was upset about something. Before she could decide against it, Karen wrapped her arm around Molly, stroking her back. Molly's soft cries didn't abate, but sometimes, you just couldn’t force tears to go away.

They stayed that way for a bit, before Molly took a shaky breath, speaking to Karen for the first time since she’d come in. “Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother with Dutch.”

“What'd he do this time?” Karen asked, not able to mask the annoyed and unsurprised tone in her voice. She regretted it as soon as she said it, knowing that in her worried state, Molly would most likely construe Karen's words to be full of malice towards her as opposed to Dutch. “Sorry if that came across as harsh,” she sighed, “forgive me, but just between us, I ain’t exactly the biggest Dutch supporter in camp.”

Molly laughed, turning to face Karen with a sad smile on her face. “I can't really blame you. He's not the easiest to get along with sometimes.”

“Could say that again.” Karen smiled back, patting Molly's back in what she hoped was a soothing and reassuring gesture. “Seriously, I'm still waitin’ on hearin’ what he did to put ya’ in a state like this.”

Molly clenched her jaw, squeezing her eyes shut. “I just wish he would be affectionate with me more than when he wants to show me off. unless it’s for being intimate, he never wants to act like two people who are courting ought to.”

Karen sighed, shaking her head. Not at all a surprise, in all honesty. Leave it to Dutch to let a wonderful woman like Molly O’Shea wallow in her own loneliness while he runs off doing whatever it is that he wants. He never had been a gentleman, but seeing just how deeply his actions were affecting Molly made her angrier at him than she had ever been in the past, and that was a feat in and of itself.

“As much as it pains me to say so, I don’t know if you’re ever really gonna get that with Dutch. I mean, I’ve known him for a while, and he’s much more preoccupied with looking big and grand than actually doing things that’re meaningful. Don’t think he understands that oftentimes, the most meaningful actions ain’t the most grandiose ones.” Why on earth was she speaking with such big words? Outside of asking Mary-Beth what they meant, Karen never spoke like this.

“You could say that again.” Molly bit her lip, a small, melancholic smile forming on her face. “I just want him to hold me, you know? I want to fall asleep in his arms when I want to, not when it’s convenient for him.”

“I wish he’d do that too. It’s so relaxing, y’know? Somethin’ about bein’ all wrapped up in a man’s strong arms, it just makes you feel safe.”

Molly didn’t respond right away, and Karen didn’t pressure her.

“Karen, could I ask you for something?” Molly seemed almost nervous, fiddling with her hands in her lap and trying to avoid Karen’s gaze.

“Of course, anythin’ I can do to help ya’.”

Molly took in a deep breath, blowing the air out through her nose like cigarette smoke. “Would it be presumptuous of me to ask for you to hold me tonight? I just need to feel… like somebody loves me.”

Karen froze up. Okay, okay, this was really happening. She hadn’t held anyone romantically since… actually, she couldn’t remember how long it had been. In terms of just having held people in general, she’d let Sean rest his head on her chest the other day when he had been drunk and really sad about something, but that was in a just-as-friends way. The way that Molly was asking her, it seemed a little more nuanced than comforting a friend. Technically, that was what she was doing, but… was Molly even really her friend? The two had never been particularly friendly with each other before, and the whole reason that Karen was even in this situation right now was up to pure chance. Would Molly ask this of anybody who came into the tent to echeck on her, or was this something that she was reserving for Karen and Karen alone? Was the way that she always acted towards her just a front to hide her true feelings? Or was Karen completely over analyzing the situation?

Well, at the same time, this was what Karen had always wanted, right? A chance to be closer to Molly? A chance to deal with these weird feelings she had towards her? In the end, shouldn’t she seize every opportunity that was given to her? Wouldn’t she just end up regretting it if she never took this chance?

Fuck it, Karen could always claim she was tipsy tomorrow if anyone said anything.

“Oh Molly…” Karen turned to face the other woman, fully wrapping her arms around her and letting her relax into her touch. “I’ve got you, don’t you worry.”

Molly clung onto Karen like a lifeline, pulling her down onto the cot so that they were cuddling. “Thank you, Karen. Thank you so much.”

Molly was a warm sleeper, Karen found out. The Irishwoman fell asleep within a few minutes, her breathing slowing down and her exhales fanning out over the exposed skin on Karen’s neck. Although she was embarrassed to admit it, it was calming, and something she could definitely get used to. Karen fell asleep not long after Molly and slept better than she had in months.

--

Ever since that night, Karen had forced herself to come to terms with her soft spot for Molly, letting herself spend time listening to the gramophone when camp was a bit slower, where she discovered that not all of the music the machine played was jarring and horrible. Sometimes, Molly would join her on guard duty, and the two would talk for hours about everything and nothing. It was relaxing, in a way that speaking with Tilly and Mary-Beth wasn’t. For whatever reason, talking to Molly was easy and relaxing, and when the two of them talked, hours would fly by quicker than the beating of a hummingbird’s wings.

Karen was so comfortable with Molly, in fact, that one evening, when the two had taken a small trip away from camp to get some peace of mind, she didn’t overreact when something big happened. Something that Karen hadn’t even realized that she may have been waiting for, even.

The two had been sitting in silence, enjoying the sounds of nature and the low hum of voices that drifted over from camp, when Molly turned to Karen, took her face in her hands, and kissed her. Not just a kiss that one would give a sister or a mother, either, but a kiss that one would give a lover. Molly was gentle and warm, wrapping her bottom lip around Karen’s top one, dragging her hands through her dirty blonde hair.

Karen was taken off-guard, but the kiss was nice, something she had been needing for a while. Molly pulled away first, a worried expression beginning to form on her face, along with an apology, but Karen stopped her in her tracks, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Took me long enough to do that.” Molly whispered.

“Yeah, it did.” Karen said, slightly louder.

“I just…” Molly trailed off. “You’ve always treated me so well, Karen. Just like how I’ve always needed, how Dutch never has and never will. I never intended to feel this way about you.”

“Believe me, neither did I.” Karen laughed. “Hell, I didn’t even know I wanted it until it happened, and then it’s like, something just felt right, like this is what I’ve been missing all my life.”

Molly lay her head on Karen’s shoulder, closing her eyes. “Thank you for being you, Karen. Seriously.”

“I should be the one tellin’ you that. You didn’t have to give me a second thought, I’m just some woman who’s nothin’ like you, but you didn’t push me away when I wanted to check on you.”

“Nobody else even offered. I’ll be honest, Karen, I used to not like you, not at all, but despite all the animosity I used to harbor for you, after you came in my tent that night, I realized that maybe, just maybe I had been wrong about you.”

“You’re goddamn right.” Karen laughed, kissing Molly’s head yet again. “But hey, now you have all the time in the world to prove yourself wrong, right?”

Molly nuzzled into her shoulder. “Right.”