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callistoscope · 7 months ago

Text

a healthy venture

Summary: As most know, sexual experimentation is all apart of a healthy relationship! It just so happens to coincide with a very awkward relationship for a couple like Harvey and Clarice, however.

Pairing: Cringefail(Clarice) x Harvey. (if you know you know.)

Word Count: 7.4k. I know, it’s ridiculous.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. AWKWARD smut. Takes a hot minute to get there, but when it’s there, it is THERE. The sexual experimentation in question is PEGGING with not much else, so….

a/n: this is silly and very crackfic-adjacent but also So Serious to me. also, yeah I guess they’re in a relationship, but early stages? probably had sex before this? Idk, whatever makes the most sense. sorry if the writing style comes off kinda cringe sometimes!!! I really tried to connect the writing style to what I imagine cringefail’s thought process would be like. and it might generally come off more amateurish since it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written. have mercy pls I swear I was so much better at writing like a year ago I’m getting back into the swing of things </3. If you have no idea who cringefail is or why’s she being paired with Harvey, she’s from @clarisinne ‘s comic!!! check it out!!!!!!(peer pressuring you). also @cowboyweevil since u asked me to tag u!

——

Clarice will be the first to admit that her life is consistently in tatters, and more often than not, it's her own hand that tears up that life the most. She had never been the type to have a sturdy head atop her unsteady shoulders— more the type to awkwardly headbutt into every problem and success that dared to beseech her. Both intentionally and unintentionally, sometimes simultaneously.

One thing she does know, a tidbit of information carved so deep into the recesses of her mind that even dementia wouldn't rob her of this simple fact— her sister was a fucking menace.

Clarice could have given her sister some semblance of underserved grace, could have said she wasn't so bad, if only that's where her bad qualities stopped. But Mars's abhorrent behavior was made all the more pesky by how relentless she was.

Her sister was as relentless as the damn splinter still wedged into Clarice's foot, a recent injury she had been careful to make sure Harvey wasn't privy to.

Harvey.

This was all his fault, really. For such a highly respected doctor, for whom which his town had only the most upstanding of opinions of him, beholding him as kind and responsible, Clarice feels safe in saying that her health had went down a steep decline since the moment. . . this happened. Since the moment this strikingly warm, gooey feeling coagulated in her heart, not unlike that of a fatal blood clot. Her life is effectively cut in half from the amount of stress she's experience since moving to this town. Her life force is visibly draining away, day by day, she's sure.

And her darling sister has the nerve to kick her while she's already down. Escalating the gradual deterioration of Clarice's health like the terminal illness only Mars can be like.

Even now, her sister giggles behind her hand in midst the autumn wind, brimming with an audacity that makes Clarice seethe. She has to bite back the urge to chuck her full watering can at her.

Casually, her sister leans down to pluck a pumpkin from the ground, holding it proudly in her arms. A smile plays on her face, one Clarice does not like one bit. "You know... I've been thinking—"

"Stop doing that."

"I've been thinking—" she trots along, happy as a clam. Content as a mischievous cat might be more apt. "If Harvey doesn't step up more, you might really have to take the reins. In a way you don't expect."

Stubbornly, Clarice stays off to the side. She crosses her arms, clutching the watering can high up in protest. Her job this morning was to water whatever crops weren't already covered by their sprinklers, and she was feeling like her labor wasn't deserved the more this conversation carried on. Nothing of substance had been said yet, but Clarice's ears pick up on the lilt in her little sister's voice.

Said sister finally shoots her a cursory glance over her shoulder. "Really! I'm just trying to help you out!" The laughter in her voice says otherwise. "Because, honest to God, the more I think about it— the more plausible it becomes."

Clarice's eyes narrow, body tense in anticipation for the nearing punchline. "... What?" However hesitant, the word ebbs out all the same.

Clarice can see her sister's figure trembling already, frame wracked with inexplicable mirth, and she already wants to sink into the dirt. "Because—" she starts, unhelpfully, voice warbling, "I'm sorry, but that is the exact kind of man who'd wanna get pegged."

Mars's voice grows high-pitched, wavering, and the cackle she lets out would rival a witch. Clarice can hardly focus on that sound, her ears ringing so loud it blocks everything else. Pegging. What the fuck?

Her face grows hot, and it takes conscious effort to not pass out right onto the dirt ground. Whether it be from the thought alone or merely from the fact that her younger sister thought this made for acceptable conversation, Clarice can't be sure. Before Clarice can even hope to respond, the other is rattling off like she's finally been given an excuse to.

"And— and listen! I'm not judging! Good for Harvey! Good for you! As long as everything is safe, sane, and consensual, right?" She bites the words out a bit, trying not to laugh too hard, nearly dropping the pumpkin.

"Stop." Clarice chokes, half plea half threat, blood rushing through her ears. Her mind is fraying at the edges, her brain rotting in record time. She's just starting to stomp her way over to her bastard sister.

"All I'm saying is— I know an online shop that'll ship here, yeah? Sells strap-ons, and has good variety. Pretty quick, too! Poor Harvey won't have to wait very long."

Clarice's free hand just reaches up to claw at her scalp in mortified agony, freezing for one sickening moment. She's on the path to getting her bearings and cursing Mars out like she never has before. Her mind is just on the verge of rewiring itself into proper working order. Like most things in her life, however, Clarice's life never stops at one bad thing.

"Um."

Harvey's voice is small, but the effect it has on her body is not. Clarice's body goes stiff as a rod, and the awkwardly loud clearing of his throat finally coaxes her into snapping her head back to look at him. So hard that one of her braids whips against her throat. Harvey stays where he is, loitering around the entrance of the farm with an odd rigidity to his face.

Clarice's body proves untrustworthy, and the hand holding the watering can goes limp. It's the moment after the tepid metal slips from her fingers that the gravity of her mistake hits her.

It really does hit her— the hefty watering swishes loudly as it lands straight on her foot with the accuracy of an Olympic gymnast.

"Fuck!" Clarice all but howls, stumbling back and promptly tipping back onto the dirt with an equally pained shout. It's a hard fall that ends with her gaze blearily aimed up at the blue sky, her ears picking up the sounds of two pairs of shoes scuttling up their respective pathways.

Of course. Of course it was the foot she had the splinter in.

——

Of all the sexual escapades both her waking and unconscious mind liked to torture herself with by envisioning… Clarice will admit that pegging isn't one of them. Not to say that her thoughts are incapable of running along the more adventurous paths she catches herself pointedly trying to ignore, but it simply had never come up.

Until now, at the violation of her coveted free will, at her sister's hands. She wishes all the terrible things for Mars, sometimes.

And she really shouldn't be mulling over her sister's words seriously, but her mind is deliberately caught on the thought.

... How does Clarice even feel about the concept? Even vaguely, if she just distantly ponders over what exactly that would entail? Maybe she feels some sexual curiosity she'll get to sating one of these days, should Harvey give it the okay?

If Clarice lets her mind do more than skim over the topic, however... the honest reality of what such an activity would bring is enough for her to be content to shelf it out of sheer mortification, never to see the light of day. Harvey, as always, is a different case. Adds integers into the equation that forces Clarice to reconsider everything, to reach for a different conclusion she otherwise never would have. She's forced into growth with him, sickeningly enough.

More annoyingly, she's forced into tending to herself in areas where she usually would shrug and walk it off. As soon as the hard, metal, heavy watering can had crashed onto her foot, the strange tension dispersed throughout the farm had vaporized on Harvey's part. Harvey had been painfully normal to her for those few minutes. Fussing over her, taking her carefully by the arm and coaxing her into her own house, insisting he check her foot for any major damage.

Mars had the social grace to stay outside, and Clarice prays she has enough to feel ashamed. She's knocked out of that thought when Harvey cautiously presses down on the top of her foot, and she promptly hisses.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, mouth flitting to a little frown. Harvey looks up at her from where he's taken a knee in front of her to closely inspect her foot, those brown eyes of his more like puppy dog eyes. "Just want to make sure nothing's fractured." Despite his words, he presses down at a different area of her foot, and Clarice's leg twitches with the instinct to kick him.

Her mind continues to fluctuate between nauseating panic and increasing irritation at Harvey's continued poking and prodding. It all culminates when he leans back, seeming satisfied with his work, meeting her eyes another time.

Abruptly, his eyes widen and his gaze scatters back to the floor, and that's all the confirmation Clarice needs to know exactly what place Harvey's mind goes back to. She'd had hope he'd forgotten about it, but that hope is thoroughly dashed and thrown back to drown in the river.

"So. Um..." he trails back into silence just as rapidly as he starts to speak, a palpable tension fracturing any temporary peace that had settled. Harvey shuffles, a stiffness settling over his body that she notices. It's the soft blush that peeks over his ears that does Clarice in, an innocent seashell pink that makes her eyes dart to the opposite direction of the room in deflection. Her hands claw shakily at the leather of the couch.

"Listen... I know it's technically none of my business, and it wasn't exactly meant for my ears—" Harvey lets out a labored breath. From the corner of her eye, Clarice can see his head tilt up, before hesitantly bobbling back down. He seems torn on where he should be looking. "And, uh— I didn't exactly hear everything? So, uh..." he says, voice wavering at the end. Clarice chances a glance, only to see a bright red blooming over the slopes of his cheeks, hands clenching at the pant leg of the knee he's supporting his weight on.

"I'm really sorry if I'm misunderstanding, but... how exactly did that topic come up?" He squirms a little from where he's kneeling, as if even just saying such vague words wired a shot of adrenaline straight through his nervous system. Clarice can relate, even if she knows what he's feeling is infinitesimal compared to the amount of adrenaline coursing through her.

Steam might start coming out through her ears if her mind ponders on any of this any longer. "... My sister brought it up." she mumbles, voice strained. Clarice brings her hands up, rubbing her temples, her cheeks nearly scorching her palms. Apologies, insults directed at her sister, humiliated blubbering, all sit at the tip of her tongue, but she just can't manage it. It's more like there's a stone in her mouth, on the verge of suffocating her, and her lips feel dementedly stitched together. "She thought you'd— I don't know. You know." It feels like flames lick up her cheeks then, and she winces with grief at the bitter loss of normalcy regarding their relationship. Who is she kidding? That ship had long since passed.

"Ah," Harvey actually scratches at the back of his neck, and something about that makes her want to scream in pain. It's such a stereotypical display of anxiety, and it makes those gooey feelings spring up like unwanted weeds along the sidewalk of her heart. It's endearing, damn him. "So, you're not...?"

Harvey eyes trail back up, she can feel them on her body before she can see them. Her eyes meet his in quick succession, and she feels herself jolt as if she's touched a live wire. He himself seems a bit frozen in comparison, but there's a glint in his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, looking uncertain yet decidedly... curious. Flustered and nervous, but not disgusted.

Clarice jolts again, eyes going wide, hands falling from her head. She probably tears a few red hairs out in the process, but doesn't have the presence of mind to care when her mind is racing a mile a minute. "Oh God, you are into it." she blurts, bewildered for a multitude of reasons.

Any bravado Harvey seems to have procured promptly breaks from under him, his head bowing down as he's left to pick up the pieces. "I didn't say that!" he insists shakily, sweeping a hand through his hair.

"It's just— if that was something you were into, I wanted to..." Harvey's voice dies, swiftly fishing his hand out of his hair. "I... didn't want you to feel ashamed about it, is all. Or like you couldn't talk to me about it." he finishes with an exhale, his face brimming with a vibrant red.

Clarice swallows, shifting on the couch with an antsy energy. "... How do you feel about it?" she forces out, more stiffly than she'd like. Her methods of communication were never as smooth or clear-cut as she envisioned. Moments like these only exacerbated that flaw. "You can... talk to me, too." She cringes. She sounds a little robotic.

Yet, Clarice had promised herself to try and be more... open, about any such topics with Harvey. To be considerate and hold his feelings with higher priority than following through on her track record and waving them away. Instead of regressing into the skittish fawn she is at heart and dashing away.

Harvey fidgets before slowly rising to his feet, face still red as a rose. "I haven't thought about it much, until now. But honestly, I don't feel negatively about it." Something shifts in his expression, fills his face with unyielding tension, and his eyes shyly flit to the other side of the room.

"Morbid curiosity is probably the most accurate emotion for what I'm feeling." It's said with a weight, as though he's confessing some grand sin to a noble higher priest. "It was clearly just meant to all be jokes, though, so the last thing I'd do is expect anything out of it! Not to say I even really want anything out of it."

She sucks in a deep, steadying breath.

"It's okay if you do." Clarice's face flames as soon as she dares to utter such words. She gestures awkwardly with her hands, body more akin to lifeless metal than flesh and blood. "Haha! Sex—" she chokes, abruptly restarting the sentence.

"Sexual— Sexual experimentation is just a part of a healthy relationship! And we're healthy!" Smiling tightly, the inflection of her voice comes out more manic, a little frantic. She bumps her elbow against him, harder than she means if the wince that stretches over Harvey's face has anything to say about it.

"And it's normal! We're normal, and we can do this! Right, doctor?" Clarice grits her teeth a little, elbowing him again, desperate.

"Y- Yeah! Hah, definitely!" Harvey laughs nervously, rubbing the side of his stomach. "But, we should probably discuss this more, if you're really being serious—"

"— Harvey," Her face is promptly buried in her hands, unable to even cast a glance in his direction. "I'm at my limit. Please."

Another anxious little laugh bubbles out of him, pulling at a loose thread hanging from his coat. "Of course. Yes, that's, whatever makes you comfortable. We can talk about this later."

——

The simple fact of the matter is that they do. It's a verbal scuttle that seesaws back into Clarice conversationally dragging her feet, as most conversation between them winds up being on her end. How Harvey puts up with it is beyond her— hell, Harvey himself is beyond her.

Kind, wonderful Harvey mystifies her as much as he begrudgingly enchants. He is some strange, glittering galaxy that perplexes her with his intent to be swept into her chaotic gravity. Terrifyingly considerate, practically falling over himself with every other word when he insists that they don't have to do this, he wants her to be comfortable, he only wants what she wants—

And... What does Clarice want? The question echoes in her mind, the answer echoing in kind.

To be sated.

This curiosity, it stifles her in its attempt to persuade her. It sits in her chest, leaves residue when it attempts to glue itself in her head. Clarice had waved it off, tried to ignore it, but the remains fester there. The rot of the idea is only fertilizer, and ultimately, it only grows. She's curious, and she's always been one to explore what springs that emotion in her. For the most part.

And when she finally wrings out that honesty out of herself, Harvey flusters, but moves with the natural pull that such a confession swings a conversation into: what now? What's the plan?

There's a list of questions that are steadily answered, ticked off the mental list she's sure Harvey had conjured up in his head. Where? Definitely your apartment, I'd kill you and myself if my sister heard. Okay. Uh, how would we get the... equipment? Ship it to your apartment. My sister would never let me live it down if she got even a hint of it.

Many similar questions and answers filtered out amongst them. Harvey makes some timid remark about doing his own personal research regarding how he should prepare himself, and the conversation is effectively capped off for a few weeks. It's the persistent elephant in the room, one that grows inexplicably bigger one day in later Autumn. Finally, after some surface level digging that more exposed how deeply it burdened Harvey's mind rather than exposed any real concern from Clarice, he admitted that that the equipment came. 'It,' he'd referred to it so aptly.

It. It came. There wasn't much more to plan than the main event itself. Not much more to do other than biting the bullet and doing it. With the grand exception being thinking about it, a crime which Clarice finds herself exuberantly guilty of. The last few weeks had given her heartburn, her thoughts becoming expertly nomadic in the way they traveled from normal and innocent to salient and crude. Stray thoughts that clustered rapidly in one great moment of imagination before popping and deflating like a balloon. Leaving her flustered in midst her daily chores, normalcy strained for the rest of the day.

What would Harvey say? What would he sound like, how would it feel? How would Clarice feel, really, to be the one giving in such a way?

She didn't have to wonder much longer. Even still, her curiosities still ring so loud in her head as she stands at the door of the clinic, heart running at such a magnitude that a hummingbird's would pale in comparison. She clutches her to go bag in an iron grip, the reason why she had a to go bag making her body all the hotter.

Clarice's mind whirrs when the door opens, and it doesn't stop until they reach Harvey's humble apartment towards the top, and even then, it only dulls. She isn't even sure what sort of pleasantries they exchanged, too strung up in her thoughts to be in anything other than on autopilot.

"We don't have to do this," Harvey drills the notion yet again into her head as he is bending down at the side of his bed, hand grasping blindly at the space under the bed frame. "Really. We could just sit in for a normal night. I wouldn't mind any."

Clarice gathers herself, though her efforts are futile when it's like trying to keep water in her hands. "I would." she bites out, sucking in a breath through her teeth with a whistling sound as she gracelessly lets her bag drop to the floor. "I want to. We're doing this." she says, surprising herself with the shaky, albeit no less sincere, conviction in her voice.

"... As long as, you know, you're still down with it." she falters, twiddling with the sleeve of her jacket absently. Her gaze returns to Harvey when she hears a sliding sound, like something being dragged across the floor.

"I am!" Harvey breathes, voice wavering. He isn't looking at her, instead looking at the box he'd apparently stashed under his bed. "... I just like to be sure about these sorts of things." He stands back up with the box in tow, presenting it to her as he steps closer and closer. His face is already flushing, though it's a soft dainty pink that she finds all too fitting on him.

As her gaze roves over the box, it is not a dainty pink that seizes her face. On the white box is an understandably crude picture of a dildo, a strap-on she thinks belatedly, with words in varying fonts spewed around it. Reviews, the technical name of this model, the brand. Interestingly enough, it seems Harvey bought a set, her eyes pick up. A strap-on and a harness.

It hits her all at once, and she makes a sound that is part laugh and part cry. She's incredulous, unable to conceive everything that is happening, the things that click into place. "God, you hid it? Under your bed?" she mumbles, the humor of the situation washing over her as she lets out a raspy laugh. Harvey, the highly respected doctor of Pelican Town, hiding a strap-on under his bed.

Harvey makes an affronted noise, though his voice trembles a little with laughter when he weakly replies, "Yes. It— I didn't have room for it in my drawer." Bashfully, he gestures to said drawer, the one next to his colossal bookcase.

Clarice snorts, and the tension eases. Where this is all going, where the current is taking them, doesn't seem so scary for a moment. Harvey smiles, still a little timid, and starts to open up one of the flaps of the box. "Is it really that funny?"

"I don't know. Probably not." Clarice admits in a weak voice of her own, swallowing as he moves back the layers of the box. It's one of those types, weirdly shiny and like plastic more than the traditional brown box. That tension fills back in slightly when her eyes catch sight of it. Well, not yet, it's in a protective pouch— but nothing can really hide the distinct shape that the fabric really only enhances.

It only takes a moment for Harvey to grasp it, holding it in a limp grip as he pointedly looks at the other contents of the box, ears tipped in red. "And, ah, hm," Awkwardly, he moves the pouch into the curve of his elbow, the back of his arm holding it against his body. His free arm fishes out the harness more preparedly, touching it less like a dead fish. "Here's... the harness."

It takes a moment to realize that he's holding it out to her, waiting for her to take it. Clarice shuffles with nervous energy, taking it and holding it stiffly away from her body. As if any making any further contact with it will scorch her. She already burns, and it's in the most humiliating way. An uncomfortable heat bread-crumbing its way lower and lower, with plenty of pauses. "Should I... put it on?"

Harvey makes a sound, lips parting as if to say something. They only close again, and she can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. He only nods, abruptly turning around. Only then does he find his voice. "Probably, yes."

Respectively, both parties begin to disrobe, Clarice starting with her shoes and socks and whittling away at the rest. A part of her tries to be neat about it, wants to be, but quickly loses that train of thought as soon as she has it. Anxiety gnaws at her the whole way through, until there's a messy pile of clothes sitting next to her and a weight in her chest. And the harness tightly in her grasp. Clarice rubs the fabric between thumb and forefinger curiously, sighing as she starts to journey of putting it on.

And a journey it is, anxiety quickly becoming secondary to the frustration that shuffles to the forefront of her mind. Trying to figure out what could be adjusted, how to hold certain parts of the harness while she slides it further up her body, it was a bit of a nightmare. Clarice adjusts the position of the O-ring when she's decently certain it's secure enough, pulling the adjustable straps against her body tighter afterwards just for extra security.

Clarice exhales a slow breath as she turns, wiping sweat from her brow. Only to find Harvey watching, naked from the waist down, his dark eyes a little wide and glazed, clutching the hem of his shirt. He jolts, hand fidgeting with the hem, as if unable to decide if he should take it off or not. "I'm so sorry, I just—"

"Were you staring at me?" Clarice asks, mortification budding at every nerve in her body in hot sparks.

"I wanted to make sure you weren't struggling with the harness!" Harvey says defensively, slipping his shirt off in one bold movement. "Because, if you were, I did look into it. I... should have mentioned that." His voice grows calm again, face ripening to more of a raspberry pink. Predictably, he folds his shirt up with practiced ease, almost more of a nervous tic than him actively wanting to.

Her eyes absently wander over his body, only to trail down harshly even at something as simple as the look of his bare chest. Clarice catches blurry snapshots at every other part of his body, but her mind is too scrambled to attempt to study the details.

"Should I..." she hears Harvey swallow this time, him almost making a gurgling noise at the back of his throat. "Should I get onto my back?" he continues, voice edging on squeaky.

"No," she blurts, shaking her head frenetically. She can't. There's many things she can do right now, is willing to, wants to do, but having Harvey on his back under her during this, helpless and pliant... she just can't do that right now. It stirs something in her, sure, something she may want to get to know more intimately in due time. Maybe. But not now. "I'm getting on my back. You're going to have to just— figure it out."

She hugs her body, wobbling over to his bed with the intention to plop down in a show of dominance, only to pause. The pouch lays on his bed, the fabric still doing absolutely nothing to disfigure the phallic shape. That's all it takes to make her sweat again, that anxiety of hers rising from its grave as she picks it up much like he had carried it previously. Underlining it all is that tailspin of anticipation, lying snugly under any negative emotions that threaten to impede the event.

"I mean you can just, you know," she stammers, eyes bulging at her own thoughts. "You know." Her eyes avoid him, digging her fingers into the opening and tugging it open, looking away when she grasps at the flared base. Clarice has no hope of keeping her eyes open as she slides it out of the silk, immediately fluttering closed just upon seeing purple. Prying her eyes back open, she forces a study session of sorts, discerning any texture she can make out by sight. It seems... smooth, not sculpted to be very indicative of an actual dick besides the base shape. More like an artist's under drawing.

Harvey is staring at it just as intently, with bated breath, hands clenching into fists. "That's okay, I can do that. I just, before that, I'll need to... prep myself. I can't just—" His hand lurches up to adjust his glasses shakily, that scarlet Harvey has been valiantly fighting off spilling on his cheeks like paint. "I-I need to use my fingers first."

Clarice's eyes aren't beckoned away from the toy at that, but her brain fizzles. It flickers and flames, a part of her screaming to watch and another pleading to cover her face the whole time. You'll never survive if you watch, it pleads.

"... Okay." she chokes, because what other response is there? "I'm also going to... prepare." Her voice sounds so small, even to her own ears. With a trembling hand, Clarice twists the toy in her grip, carefully holding the flared base awkwardly to her pelvis, trying to figure out how to thread the base into the O-ring. Harvey tries to pipe up helpfully, blabbering nervously about what to do, but shuts up when Clarice begs out, "Please shut up."

Harvey is fumbling with something, and once Clarice ensures the strap-on is slotted in correctly, she turns to see him drawing out a little bottle of what she can only assume is lube. He opens it in a diligent twist, coating his fingers quickly and wincing. She notes how he seems to focus on covering two fingers above all else, and that flame stirs again. More like a spark, hesitant but hungry for a chance to ignite.

She stiffly sits and lays on the bed, in such a way that her legs splay out over the side of the bed, soles of her feet touching the wood. Harvey passes the lube to her, pressing it to her stomach. "You're... You should probably use this, too." he says, face flushing a red that Clarice's own rushes to imitate. Harvey sits, but does not lay, in the same way she does. Except he props a leg up on the bed, spreading himself open, pressing that knee to his stomach as he settles next to her. She decides to be grateful she can't see anything from this angle, only his back, everything else too far in her peripheral to make anything particularly lewd out.

That gratitude is a fleeting present, for she is suddenly made intimately aware of the moment he must edge a finger into himself by the way his breath hitches. Clarice can't not notice, it's such a sharp sound that resonates in her ears— the leg up on the bed twitches. The bed creaks, and the spark ignites like a firework.

She brings a hand up to her mouth as her eyes betray her, her own thighs twitching with want for relief as she scours his back. Sees his shoulder blades flex when he must push in deep, loosen when he pulls out shallow. Harvey's very breath is trembling, his hips attempting to buck, but only succeeding in a meek roll with the way he's scrunched up.

"I'm so sorry if this is weird," he says, voice muffled and breathy. He must be covering his mouth with his free hand, too. Clarice can't say anything, especially not when he sighs as a tremor wracks through his body. His hips give another pitiful roll, his head lolling back for a brief second.

"H-Have you done this before?" she asks, perhaps too banally. It's just too practiced, he falls into each motion with too much ease. Experience. Her ears are reacting that way to sound again, any noise muted, as if underwater.

Harvey whines quietly, though the sound reeks more of humiliation than bliss. Clarice's body reacts the same regardless, shifting on the bed fruitlessly. She can feel herself pulsing, and she thinks she's gonna pass out if she focuses on that facet of this situation any more than she needs to.

"... Not before any of this came up. Just over the past few weeks." he manages shakily, "Just... just to see what I thought. To see if I liked it."

The bed creaks particularly loud with one swipe of his pelvis, and the sound he makes does sound more pleased. "Didn't want to make you go through any of this if I didn't even like it."

"... And you like it?"

Clarice buries her face in her hand then, when the silence stretches out a bit too long. Every part of her burns. Every nerve is roaring fire, and it's suffocating. What could even relieve her, she doesn't know.

"... Yeah. It was— it's nice." Harvey gasps out, a flurry of panicked breaths escaping him. He's trying to catch his breath, body going tense as wood. He tries to exhale, some other noise laden in it. "I think— I think I'm ready."

Harvey's arm looks disfigured as he moves it from this angle, the movement sputtering to a quickness that slows just as soon. His head tilts as he wipes sweat from his forehead with his free hand, seeming to completely pause. it's confirmed when he rests the other hand on his leg.

Her mind is caught in a constant loop of What do I do? and I don't know for a few seconds. For once, Clarice's body is dependable and rational, a hand grabbing for the small plastic bottle on her stomach. It's like all sentience has seeped out of her ears, her mind going blank as she pumps the strap-on absently, making the toy nice and slick. Apparently, she’s already poured it out on her hand.

The blankness in her head abruptly swirls into color, thoughts, visions, when Harvey turns his body. He gets onto his knees, ushering himself closer to her body, but not bridging any actual distance. His warm skin and body sit plainly out of reach.

Harvey hums plaintively, and Clarice can't even begin to explore what that could mean.

"You're really sure you're okay with this?"

A deep sigh reverberates throughout the room. Clarice leans back on the bed, pressing her hand harder against her face. "Yes," she groans out, agonized. "I'll tell you if I'm not feeling it."

Harvey lets out another heavy breath, though it sounds less burdened. "Alright. In that case then, I'll, uh, I need to..."

"Okay." Clarice says, high pitched, pulling her hand quickly away from the strap-on. It's weird, wearing this thing. She can feel the phantom sensations of where it tilts, now that her hand isn't there to direct it straight.

"Okay," Harvey echoes her, similar down straight to the tone, the almost squeaky way he says it. "I'll... try not to put too much of my weight on you."

"Thanks." Clarice merely whines, wilting into the mattress.

Harvey shuffles over, bed creaking with every new placement of his knees jutting into the bed. There's a moment where the anticipation builds, becomes something tangible and unbearably thick. The tension squeezes against itself, then loosens, like a heartbeat. Like it's a real, pulsing thing.

Harvey places a hand on the bed, around her side, gripping his covers tight as he murmurs apologies. Throws a leg over her waist as his other hand braces near the other side of her, releasing a shaky breath. He keeps himself up on his knees, looking down at himself and grasping at the strap-on feverishly by the base, holding it more in a line. Clarice doesn't know what expression he's making, what expression she's making, all too busy covering her face. Risking glances through the spaces of her fingers. It's all happening simultaneously too fast and tortuously slow.

"Alright," Harvey exhales, adjusting his knees one more time, face wrought with anticipation. "... Alright."

With a steady gaze downwards, Harvey slowly lowers his body down. He jolts as if struck with electricity when the tip presses against his rim, lips parting with a slow breath as he inches down further after a pause. There's a start of a whine in the back of his throat every time the strap-on slides in deeper, but he always staves it off. Always sucks in more air, and keeps going dutifully.

Harvey keeps to his promise and carefully holds himself up even as the strap-on fills him, an occasional shake winding from his face to his legs. Those dance aerobics classes seem to be paying off, in any case.

This seems to be one of the rare circumstances where Harvey is considerate of his boundaries and limits, hips undulating up and down with a careful air. It's a process he treats delicately, gives himself plenty of time to relax in between motions, and Clarice can appreciate that solely because he deserves to be treated gently. Even if she's horrible at doing it, he deserves that much. That sort of growth is something she owes him, one of these days.

That day will come, but today is a different one, a different milestone. Harvey doesn't contest these thoughts of hers, moaning softly once the gentle treatment becomes unnecessary. Unwanted, if the gradually increasing speed of his rhythm could have any thoughts on the matter.

Through the slits of trembling fingers, Clarice watches. Everything is magnified, all the emotions breaking some impossibly high dam despite the odds. There's shifts in Harvey's expression every time he effectively bounces, lips twitching with effort to keep himself quiet. Sweat glistens along his forehead and neck— he shines in the low lamplight that sits glowing only about a foot away.

The heat between her legs is unbearable. Clarice can't remember the last time she had gotten so wet and hadn't tended to herself. Hadn't been able to. It's humiliating, but that emotion is so weak and malleable in the current of pure arousal her body is getting lost in. Her head is foggy, yet her vision is vibrant with clarity, with Harvey.

Harvey, who's working himself down harder with every passing second. Instead of that lost, cloudy look catching in his eyes, he only looks all the more searching. Harvey sits back further on his heels, letting out a moan that sounds frustrated. Unthinkingly, Clarice's eyes glance downward at the dick between his legs. Straining and flushed against his abdomen, with him close enough that she can see the pearl of pre-cum beading at the very tip. It moves with every motion he makes. The bead drips over, trailing over every bump and ridge.

"... What's wrong?" Clarice dares to speak, voice containing a rasp that floors her.

"... I can't," Harvey whines, back arching as he sculpts his hips into a particular rocking motion. "I-I can't, I need—" he chokes, leaning far enough that he has to grind his hips forward and back more than up and down for the strap-on to stay inside.

Then he jolts at a particular thrust he implores, gasping sharply. His brown eyes go wide, glasses jumping with every movement that he makes, suddenly speeding up. "Oh! Oh, please, please—"

His thighs tremble with effort, and suddenly he's sliding right down. Harvey's weight presses right into her as he essentially sits on her lap, making her let out a grunt of surprise rather than one of any meaningful discomfort. He's straddling her completely, and the whimper he lets out is downright pitiful.

Harvey blinks with wet eyes, his eyes searching for hers, face twisted with embarrassment. Need laces it, need seems nestled into every frantic little movement Harvey attempts to make. Only for Harvey's body to slump back down, clearly too exhausted to keep doing all the work. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I can't— can you—?"

He suffers through the moment for air, face red as a strawberry, thighs still shaking even as he's seated. ".... Help me," he breathes, air whistling through his teeth a little. "Please."

The blood in her body is torn between two places. Clarice feels light-headed, her chest heaving for air she hadn't realized had dissipated. She's sweating before she's even doing anything, before she warily places her spare hand on his hip for support. Harvey groans with relief before she even properly helps him out. "Thank you, thank you." he chants.

He starts to move up again, more uninhibited thanks to the added momentum of Clarice's hand moving with him. Harvey lets out a hoarse cry when Clarice gathers enough courage to start rolling her hips up, meeting in a messy pace where neither is sure who should follow who.

Clarice shudders at the sudden increase in sounds, and more importantly, the volume. Face flaming, her mind wails to reprimand him in some way, to remind him of his neighbors who know him, but more importantly her. It's here where input and output scramble uselessly in the recesses of her brain. "Harvey! You— You need to quiet down." she hisses from her hand, on the cusp of a grand mistake. Her mind aims for swatting at his arm, but seeing as both hands are busy with equally important tasks, an easy pair of dots are connected.

Clarice raises her hand for a brief moment, smacking his ass lightly. Absently.

Harvey downright squeaks with shock, jerking on her lap. "I'm— I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

She could die right that moment, but thankfully, Harvey seems too out of it to make a comment on it. She cowers further into her hand all the same, body as hot as a furnace, eyes watering.

Clarice is just as quick to look through her fingers again, her other hand gripping his hip tightly, heart stopping in her chest when Harvey bites into his palm, muffling yet another cry. His eyes are lidded behind his glasses, breathing unsteady against his palm.

Harvey shakes his head, babbling around his hand as his body starts to tense up. "Clarice. Clarice. Feels good." His voice catches, bed creaking. An embarrassed pride stings her chest, hand clawing into his hip with her nails.

Despite the strain her voice, she forces what she knows he needs out. "You're doing so good, Harvey."

Harvey trembles, eyes squeezing shut, head tipping back. "... Clarice, 'm gonna..." he's nearly incoherent, too weak to keep riding the strap-on even with Clarice's guidance. Her moving hips seem to be enough to suffice, his teeth visibly digging deeper into his skin.

He blinks, once, then twice, then again, each one more rapid than the last. Harvey's body seizes, Clarice can feel it down to his thighs, his head bolting back forward. To her surprise, his other hand goes to cover the one holding his hip, his hips rolling in sporadic little bursts.

Harvey holds her hand to him tightly, dragging in one more ragged breath as the tension crests and drops with an abruptness entirely expected. He wheezes a little, sounding almost pained as his body quakes through the orgasm, cock twitching with little spurts.

All Clarice can do is watch with wide eyes, hiding them behind her hand again when it gets too much. All of this has been too much, really, but the feeling really implodes in the aftermath.

Soon enough, Harvey manages to haul his body to the spot next to her, sluggish and sated when he lets his body collapse. The bed squeaks in protest. Clarice's eyes burn more and more with unshed tears by the second, face hotter than the sun. She is half convinced that when she pulls her hand away, there will be burns staining her fingers and palm.

"Do you..." Harvey suddenly pipes up, lungs still audibly fighting for oxygen. "... want me to return the favor?" he asks, managing to sound as timid as he was breathless. "I mean, I know you didn't... finish." he coughs as quiet as a mouse.

Clarice makes a strangled sound, rolling on the side that turned her back to him. Tears spill out of her eyes, though she can't say any part of her regrets the experience. She's just... overwhelmed, mortified, and irritatingly horny. "No."

"Are you crying?" The bed dips as Harvey's voice pitches higher up in panic. "Oh, I'm so—"

"Harvey, it was hot," she sputters through tears, not giving him the chance to piss her off through his relentless apologies yet again. "Shut up. I'm just overwhelmed."

A hand tentatively reaches for her shoulder, Clarice's body tensing when she feels him stroke her shoulder assuringly. She hates him a little for it, hates it more when she actually relaxes.

It takes a moment of deliberate silence until the feeling soothes in her chest. Wiping away a few tears, she reluctantly rolls onto her other side, facing Harvey. “… Hi.” she says, voice a little muted.

“Hi.” The sentiment is mimicked easily, breathlessly, though he tacks a hesitant smile onto his flushed face. Clarice bursts into a giddy giggle for a reason she can’t quite pin down, giving him a watery smile. Harvey’s smile brightens, looking relieved. Some sexual exploration is healthy in the long run, she supposes, if it feels this freeing at the end.

#sdv harvey #sdv harvey smut #stardew valley harvey #stardew valley #sdv harvey x farmer #yeah fuck it I’ll put it in the main tags #sorry if the ending is anticlimactic idk how to end smut 😔#cringed my way through editing this but it’s done #I DID IT ✅✅✅#it’s almost bittersweet #feel nauseous actually posting this but!!!#(something something the mortifying ordeal of being known)#throwing up

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elicypher · 4 months ago

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Hey Vin, what’s up?

I hope that you are doing well. Anyway I wanted to share an idea that got into my head.

Imagine a situation where William somehow ends up in the modern times and meeting you. And like, you introduce him to everything in our times and at some point you end up introducing him to video games (mostly because he caught you playing a video game and ended up getting curious about what that is, lol)

But anyway, I found the idea of introducing him to video games and teaching him about how to play them and even letting him try to play really adorable.

Now, I don’t really see him as someone who would be much of a gamer but I do see him play video games from time to time. I see him being more into board games to be honest.

Ah btw, this isn’t a request (which you definitely can tell I guess. But I thought it would still be good to make it clear.) I just thought I could share my idea cause I found it really cute

Anyway, have nice day/night ✨

AUDJDJ i'm sorry that this is rather later, i was planning on answering it but i forgot. anyway, i can imagine the culture shock he'd experience. but he's someone that can adapt to situations, that's practically all he's done throughout his life 🗣️ you have a great mind

one day, william notices you engrossed in something. something fast paced, or a story driven game with deep strategy? (idk, whatever type of game you like playing) either way, his curiosity would get the better of him.

william's interest piqued when he heard the clicking of the controller in your hands. he silently approaches, standing close behind you, breath warm against your neck as he leans in —ncasting a shadow over your screen.

"what is this?" william asks, voice low. you can feel him studying not just the game, but also you.

ever the observant mind.

"it's a video game," you try to explain. "you can control characters, go on adventures, solve puzzles... people play them for fun." it'd take some time explaining how a glowing screen could take you on adventures and whatnot.

he'd watch you curiously, like a child mesmerized when going to an aquarium for the first time. it's new to him.

"fascinating," he whispers softly. "may i try?"

as you hand him the controller, your fingers brush against his in the exchange and you watch as he attempts to navigate the game. william's deliberate — calculating in his every move, but there’s something endearing in his concentration. he's so bewitched by it, trying to take all of the information in, flinching when a jump scare appears.

it's cute.

"i'm not sure this is my kind of challenge," he admits after a while, lips curving into a small smile. he places the controller aside, turning to face you. and his gaze softens.

“but i can see why you enjoy it, (name). i, however, prefer strategy with a bit more… direct engagement. perhaps a more traditional game would suit me better," he continues. "chess, for instance. do you still have that in this time?"

"yes, they're on here, too." you nod, tapping the screen. "but i could always pull out the board game from my.." you trail off. "i think i kept it in the closet? i can try finding it."

"really?" william blinks. he's surprised. perhaps it's because so many things have changed, but he's not sure why he thought chess was no longer available during this time. "oh, no, please. i wouldn't want to bother you. we could try the...'video game' version of chess, as you call it."

"i could teach you." unable to help yourself, you smile. there's a childish excitement in him that you're finding adorable. "… or challenge you.”

william's smile changes to something deeper, and there’s a flicker of something more in his eyes, "a challenge, then."

no matter how much time has passed, william is still, at his core, the same william. though he sometimes struggles to adapt quickly to the modern world we live in due to the drastic changes, his sharp mind remains as keen as ever.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x you #william james moriarty x reader #—moots.al #—anons.al

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lazypanartist · 2 years ago

Text

Hobie Brown x Artistic/DIY Reader

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Warnings: maybe spoilers for ATSV, IDK. Reader's in the punk scene and from Hobie's universe. Whole lotta projection.

Features personal Hobie HCs I guess. It's just self indulgent. Also! Roommate Gwen?

Please RB, likes alone don't do anything for the algorithm!

-----

"Who's she?"

You barely whisper the question to your boyfriend, peeking past the dividing wall between kitchen and living room. He glanced up from whatever he's cooking - eggs, probably - to look at the girl flopped across your couch.

"Oh. That's Gwen. Spider-Woman from another universe - she needed somewhere to crash, so I offered her our couch."

Our. The word still made you fuzzy inside, even after he dragged his stuff into your life a month prior.

Even with the warm and fuzzies, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was a bit.. off.

"The new recruit you took a shine to."

He hummed a quiet affirmation, his eyes meeting yours after a second.

"There's nothing going on, I promise."

"You don't have to promise." He wouldn't do anything stupid, that much you knew for sure. Still.. "You don't normally trust people so fast. Not enough to bring them here."

He turned back to you, handing you a plate with a pancake and silently gesturing for a clean plate. "She's.. cool. I dunno. Not like the rest of the people in the Spider Society. Reminds me more of you, actually."

You blinked.

"Home life trash, emancipated at fifteen, got a lot of stupid jobs to stay afloat and support an artisan hobby?"

He chuckled, bumping your hand gently with his own as he takes the plates - plural - from your hand. "Not quite. Her old man tried arresting her." You suck in a breath, and he nodded. "Thinks she killed a family friend. That's why she joined up - the dad, not the friend."

He fans the plates slightly. "Two?"

You shrug, head tilting towards the couch. "Well. She probably needs to eat when she wakes up."

He smiles, and you can't help but return the gesture.

"She's already wearing off on you."

"Yeah, well, I've only heard good allegations."

You lean forward to land a peck on his lips before opening the fridge, and you hear a huff when you turn from him.

"I hope she can help with groceries or something."

He laughs full heartedly at your grumble this time. You feel him approaching before he's actually touching you, his chest - finally healed - pressing gently against your back as he helps you search for pancake toppings.

You lean back into him before grabbing a container of fruit, and he helps you pull away and shut the door before he's back at the stove, flipping the next cake over.

"Well. She might be able to help at the next show."

You nod, grabbing a spoon and scooping some of the fruit onto your pancake.

"The one with the sale?"

He nods with a quiet hum. "She might have patch ideas or something."

You look her over from the distance, her vest catching your eye.

"Yeah.. she has good style."

You can almost feel him look past you before he's laughing, eyes catching the same piece you had been looking at.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.. if she's stealing my stuff, she's gotta."

You can't help but laugh with him again, looking at your new guest-slash-apparent roommate.

"You steal my stuff all the time."

You nod gently, smiling. "Yeah.. she'll fit right in."

---

Part 4

#hobie #hobie brown spider punk #spider punk hobie brown #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #spider punk hobart brown #hobart brown #hobart brown x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #x reader #xreader #spider gwen #roommate gwen

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icallhimjoey · 1 year ago

Text

Define Close

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, afab!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot, mentions of reader having hair long enough to be played with

Author’s note: last one! i hope this non-plot fic was all right! it doesnt feel like it fully counted as a five-part story just because it doesn't feel like anything really happened besides... you know, a lot of hugging. anyways. enjoy!

Wordcount: 3.9K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

When Joe woke up the next morning, all promises he made to himself the night before had vanished. Like promises people made late at night in bed were wont to do.

I’ll start on Monday.

I’ll wake up early, do it in the morning.

Thing’s will be different when the sun rises.

They never were.

He didn’t know why he thought it would be different this time. Sure, he still thought it wasn’t exactly normal to wake up with his flatmate’s face pressed into his chest, but why would he risk doing anything that was going to change that?

You kept his bed warm. Satisfied his tactile nature. Filled something hollow within him which he didn’t realise was empty before. And in moments like these, he could tell it was spilling over. Making mess inside his chest.

Joe wanted to know why it never felt invasive.

He tried to think back how he got here.

Where it all began.

How it had evolved.

And why it never felt weird. Why you never needed to talk about any of it, words completely unnecessary. Why the only two words ever spoken about it, your wild and insane “Thank you.” felt like the most disgusting overkill of verbal communication Joe had ever experienced.

The two of you were just bad with words, he decided.

Joe felt how you stretched a leg, one that was still stuck between two of his, and carefully held you a little tighter until he felt you fully relax again.

Good.

You weren’t allowed to wake up yet.

Morning sun softly lit Joe’s room through the cracks in his curtains and, Joe knew it was a Sunday, but it also felt like a Sunday.

Nothing planned for the day. Hours of nothing that stretched out before him, time he got to fill with whatever felt right in the moment.

And right now, delaying waking up felt right.

He could pretend to ignore all the things that stirred inside. The questions. The uncertainties.

He could pretend to ignore the bodily reactions you were responsible for. He had done so for ages. Had gotten real good at pretending.

But he wondered if you knew.

If you felt the same stirring he felt.

If you could see it.

If you also sometimes blew off your friends, just to hang out at home. If you also wished the friends you had over would just fucking leave already when you’d feel drowsy after a big meal. If you also sometimes had a hard time falling back asleep after waking up at random hours, just because you had to deal with a lot of disappointment at being alone.

He shouldn’t ask for more.

He was getting plenty.

Right here. Right now.

Joe pulled a blanket of appreciation all the way over himself, and he felt full. Logically understood he wouldn’t have it forever, so he best really focus on the right here and the right now, and push any other thoughts aside.

He tried to focus on every part of your body that touched parts of his body until he located your heartbeat, and then focussed on that until he fell asleep again.

When he woke up about 45 minutes later, it was to your fingers lightly stroking his face that slowly tickled him awake.

You trailed a finger tip down his nose and when you pulled away, Joe tipped his head back a little, chasing your touch. It drew your eye to a little red patch underneath his chin.

“You’ve got a…” you started, voice barely there, throat full of sleep still. Joe felt how you scratched at his skin a little, and stuck his chin out more to help give you a better look.

“Does this hurt?” you asked all innocently before pressing a sharp nail into the soft flesh just past his jawline.

“Ow,” Joe cried, flinching away into his pillow more, immediately far more awake than he wanted to be. “Jesus Christ, good morning, what the...” Joe huffed a laugh, and you hid your face into his armpit to hide your own smile.

Just for a second.

When you moved your head back onto his chest, Joe rubbed at where you poked him.

“You’ve got an ingrown hair,” you used a finger to move his aside and pulled the skin taught for a better look. Joe’s hand moved to hold you by the wrist, making sure he could pull you away the second you’d try some of that bullshit again.

But instead, you took hold of his chin and moved his head to the side, inspecting the whole area closely.

Your intense attention made Joe grow shy, and you saw how a blush crept up his neck from up close. He tried to brave through, tried his best to not tuck his chin in and trap your fingers there.

But then you did it for him, moved his face by the chin and let your eyes trail up his jaw, over his sideburns and up into his hair.

Joe felt a little timid, not sure if he was mentally even fully awake yet, face heating up under your soft gaze.

He realised you’d never done this before. Usually, when you’d wake up next to each other, you’d blink your bleary eyes, have a look around his bedroom and get up and out. Leave his room without another word shared. Leave him alone, all by himself. This was the first time you’d stayed in his bed a little longer. Lazed around and woke up slow.

It was nice.

Your chin pressed into his chest felt nice.

The weight of your thigh that rested over his hip felt nice.

All this innocent soft attention in your shared warmth felt nice.

“Hmm, you’re so warm,” Joe whispered, because you were, and it felt nice.

It was all so nice.

Your eyes roaming his features was maybe a bit much, seeing as you were quite literally able to count his pores, you were so close.

But it was still nice.

You’d created this bubble of blissful contentment together and Joe let himself drown into the right here and right now of it all.

Joe loved it in the bubble.

Would trap you in this bubble with him forever, if he could.

But his cheeks were blushing so hard, and he stared up at the ceiling in hopes of making it stop. In your next move, you let go of his chin and raised a hand up to his hair where three fingers disappeared into his hairline for a second.

Just for a literal second, though.

“You need to wash your hair.” you said dryly and moved to sit up.

Joe groaned a little.

You’d popped the bubble.

Just like that.

It was like reality got shoved right into his face as you sat up and he almost went and pulled right back in. Right back into his chest, into that bubble, where everything sparkled, and tingled, and went fuzzy around the edges.

But alas. You were already gone.

When you later met in your living area, everything was sort of back to normal. All casual. Like you hadn’t just spent another night wrapped up in bed together, parts of bodies close to other parts of bodies that they had no right being so close to.

You were flatmates, for fuck’s sake.

And sure, you were a different kind of flatmate to each other than your average run-of-the-mill flatmate. But still, how were you only just flatmates to each other still?

No lingering awkwardness.

Never an embarrassing moment.

Just a, “We’re out of dishwasher tablets,” as you grabbed the last one and showed him the empty cardboard box.

Followed by a, “Do you want some coffee?” and a neutral face thrown his way.

Like you were talking to your mum.

“Yea,” Joe answered, and tried showing as much indifference as he could in return. “Coffee sounds lovely.”

And that was that. Once again. Just flatmates.

Joe pretended all was fine. Pretended it was fine how you never talked about any of it.

He didn’t really have the right to complain, he thought. Because he still got to reach hands across and squeeze your arm in thanks when you passed him a drink, and you weren’t weirded out by that.

He still got to sometimes come home and see your charming little pouty face and know he’d get to hug you all night long, and you didn’t deny him the snuggles.

And still, if it got really bad, you’d cry and he’d find you and comfort you until you stopped crying, and then he’d make a stupid joke and you’d laugh and, are you fucking joking, he’d be left on cloud nine for a days.

To be able to get you from tears into giggles with just a couple of wrapping arms, and stroking hands, and silly comments?

Did you even know what that did to him?

Joe thought he’d gotten a weird sort of sixth sense for it now. He could snuff out your mood just from the sounds of how you’d walk in after work. Knew exactly what the evening was going to look like from the way that you were breathing. Could sniff it out like a bloodhound, he was that tuned in.

Unhealthy?

Maybe.

But he loved it too much to really do anything about it.

Even when you started pulling away a little again, like you’d done before. Would walk in sort of happy and pleased and would just make yourself a large salad for dinner before you’d go for a quick drink with friends.

It sent him down that same fucking spiral.

Why was he upset his flatmate was no longer upset so often?

How in the world was he even going to begin to unpack that?

Joe didn’t want to admit to anything, because you didn’t talk about anything, but it affected him plenty. He still got to squeeze your shoulder, and poke you in the side, and sometimes massage a socked foot when you did end up on the sofa together, but... fuck it. Joe wanted your body pressed all up against his, every night, and if he had it his way, not just on the sofa but then also in his bed right after.

He let it build.

He let it build up far too high until, one strange afternoon, it all tumbled down.

He’d been moping around since earlier that morning. Had to get some work done but just grew more and more annoyed and he didn’t really know how to articulate what it was. Was it you? Or was it him? Or was it something else entirely, and was this just easier to be upset with because it was on his mind so often?

He kind of didn’t even want to figure it out.

Just wanted to be annoyed.

And then you’d walked in, and he could hear. He frowned and listened and... yep. That sounded just about right.

Joe was stood in the kitchen when you stepped into the room and for a moment, you just looked at each other.

You expected things to go how they usually went when you walked in the way you’d just done.

If Joe was in, he’d find you and hold your face to make you look at how he empathetically mimicked your pout and knitted eyebrows before he hugged you tight and whispered all sorts of things about pizza toppings into your ear.

If Joe was in, he never even needed to take a proper look at you to know you’d needed tending to. Which is what he’d then always do.

He’d find you, and tend to you until you no longer needed tending to, and yet, now...

Now, he wasn’t really doing anything.

And you never talked.

But, then... now what?

Joe just looked at you, leant into his shoulders as his hands rested on the black shiny countertop of the island and seemed irritated.

Kind of angry.

This was new.

Different.

Needed different approach.

So...

“You all right?”

For a moment you thought that maybe Joe was mad with you, with the way his face read thunder as he took a moment to answer that question. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

But then he sighed, and his expression softened slightly before he shrugged and answered, “Define all right.”

“Cool, me neither. Come sit.”

For a split second, Joe thought, no. Let’s keep distance and talk for a change.

But before he even knew it, his legs were carrying him over to the sofa where you waited for him to sit down first, which he then simply just did.

Joe let himself fall back into the sofa and kept his arms slightly open, knowing you were likely going to drop down right next to him.

But you didn’t want to just let Joe hug you, this time.

Joe looked like he needed to be hugged himself just as much.

Maybe even more than you, you thought.

So instead, you climbed onto the sofa feet first, sat down next to him but faced into him, and draped both arms around his neck, pushing your cheek against his in a tight hug. Your knees dug into the back of the sofa a little uncomfortably, and it was like Joe could tell, because he shimmied a little until you both sighed and sagged into each other.

You felt Joe hug you back, arms around your waist and flat palms spread around your sides. It almost felt like his arms looped around you twice as he pulled you tightly into him.

It was wild how Joe could feel his bad mood drain from his body, and he wondered if this was how you always felt. If Joe’s embraces did the same to you.

You sat like that for a while, sometimes unsticking cheek from cheek to find a better bit of skin to press your face into.

You sat like that until Joe felt his annoyance make way for something else to shine through.

This would usually be the moment he’d make a joke. A little comment that would make you laugh, even if you didn’t want to and tried to hide it, but Joe could always feel how the muscles in your stomach tensed in his small moment of victory.

Not this time.

And it was silly, because you were waiting for it too.

For Joe to make light of something heavy. Because he was so good at making light of all things heavy.

But nothing really came.

You felt how Joe moved his face down and found the crook of your neck to bury his nose into. Maybe he was actually crying. You weren’t sure. But just in case, you used soothing fingers to swipe across his shoulders, across where they could reach, and you felt Joe’d head grow heavier as he relaxed more.

“Better?” you asked softly, and Joe just hummed in confirmation.

Something euphoric bubbled up inside you.

Success.

Then Joe moved his head up and you thought it was maybe to press it against the side of yours once again, but instead he got it right in front of yours and let your foreheads touch. Let your noses bump.

You weren’t sure what happened between the surge of elation and your noses touching, but suddenly, you kind of felt like crying again. Felt the dark mood you’d been in when you walked in a little earlier return.

But it didn’t feel like this moment was really about you, for once.

So you just... stayed there. Stayed put. Kept your eyes closed, and let your noses touch, and hoped that whatever you were doing was at least making Joe feel better.

“Is this helping?” you whispered, and Joe felt it against his mouth.

In turn, he sighed, and you felt that against yours before he answered, “Yea.”

His arms squeezed tighter and you tried thinking of a time where you’d been closer than this. If this counted as the closest you’d ever been.

And then you felt his nose run up along the side of yours before moving down the other side of it and, probably. This was probably the closest you’d ever been.

“Yea,” he said again, and then followed it up with, “You’re not going anywhere.”

The slightly higher pitch of his voice made Joe sound like he was crying. You checked, kind of had to check, and moved back slightly to have a look.

But he wasn’t crying. Seemed wildly wrecked in a different way. One slightly foreign to you. It made you furrow your brow in confusion, because, what did he mean, ‘you’re not going anywhere’?

You weren’t going anywhere.

You never did.

You shared a flat together and you were always there.

Joe saw how you tried to make sense of his words in real time, up close, and it made sense to him that you didn’t immediately get it. You never used actual words together. Of course this was going to take you a second. He understood. But still. It was fucking annoying that you didn’t.

Joe had to look away for a second, to stare at the wall on the other side of the room as he leant back into the sofa more, arms sliding down your back as he did.

With his head tilted back onto the backrest, he carefully started, “You know…” and then took another moment to think. Because, what did you know?

You waited, mostly because you were unsure of what else to do.

You and Joe didn’t talk. Didn’t ask questions. Just... you just were. Were how you were.

So you waited, and saw Joe’s eyes wander down to the collar of your top where he took one of the unbuttoned buttons in between his fingers to play with.

“I don’t think I can… I might not have the strength,”

Never talking also meant you’d not practiced listening. And Joe made listening difficult, because as he fidgeted with your collar, you couldn’t help your eyes from drifting to a bicep. You concluded his top was too tight around the arms, and let your eyes linger there, because it looked nice.

A flex of the muscle brought you back to him.

For a small moment, you made eye-contact and you realised you were too close.

“When are you going to… when will you see it?” Joe pressed, ducking his head to force eye-contact as you tried moving back a little. His voice remained soft, words almost cautious as they found your ears.

You didn’t really have a response.

“I’m not…” you began, thinking you’d find out what exactly you weren’t along the way, but you faltered.

You had no idea what you weren’t. Had no idea what to say.

“I’m not…” you tried again.

Still didn’t get any further. Not good with words, you thought to yourself. Why was Joe making you talk?

You never talked.

But Joe waited, just like you’d waited for him before. Gave you time to find the right way to articulate whatever was going on inside your mind.

And he shouldn’t have.

You suddenly inhaled sharply and created more distance between the two of you as you said, “I’m not really hungry.”

“I–... what?”

You got up from the sofa.

“If you want a pizza, you’re going to have to eat the whole thing yourself I’m afraid. I think we’ve got some– yea, there’s at least two in the freezer still,”

“But–...”

You were already on your way to show him.

“Tandoori chicken and, um, one with mushrooms, I think, I got them last week, unless you’ve already had them, they should be in there...”

Joe couldn’t fucking believe it.

You were... you were being awkward.

Being all weird.

Had he made things awkward and weird? By talking?

Surely, that couldn’t be the case.

He watched you nervously fight with a freezer drawer that didn’t seem to want to budge for a second, until it did, and you yanked it all the way out. Made it clatter against the tiles.

Oh, it was absolutely the case.

“Fuck– sorry,” you near-violently shoved it back into its slot, and the sound of plastic sliding across ice made his skin crawl.

“Hey,” Joe was already up on his feet.

“Yea, see? Chicken and garlic mushroom, you can have–”

“Hey, hey, stop.” Joe rounded the island, got you by the arms and turned you away from the freezer.

“If you want–”

“I said, stop.”

You then did stop. Let Joe close the freezer door as you closed your eyes and exhaled through flared nostrils.

Joe studied your face, confused and worried by what the fuck had just happened. How you’d gone from lovingly embracing each other on the sofa until you’d both left each other’s shapes across your fronts like you were memory foam, to suddenly this weird, embarrassing, panicky state in the kitchen.

Words.

“It’s okay if you don’t–” Joe started, wanting to tell you it was fine if you didn’t want to talk, but this time you cut him off. Said, “Joe, please,” in a wobbly voice, because you did want what Joe meant earlier. You did see it. Did want that.

But you were flatmates.

Joe moved his hands and cupped your face.

It made you open your eyes and you immediately wished you hadn’t.

His eyes were so fucking expressive, they kind of bore all.

It was weird to want to look away just as much as you wanted to keep this connection with him, and you moved your hands to hold onto his wrists so that, even if you did end up looking away, he at least wouldn’t let go of you.

You watched his eyes flick between yours before they flicked down at your mouth.

It made you do the same, and, shit.

No.

You were flatmates.

But then Joe leant a little closer, and you didn’t move away. Did the opposite in fact.

Joe let your foreheads touch once more, and allowed the two of you to be close again.

You were the worst at talking.

Never talked.

But, fuck, you were so good at being close.

Joe knew that he was going to have to let everything else do the talking. Like it had always done, up until now. He just... he needed to articulate a little clearer, that was all.

You lifted your chin slightly, just enough to nuzzle. To press your nose against his and for a brief moment, you moved like you were kissing, but your lips didn’t touch.

“Joe,” you breathed, sounding unsure, and Joe stilled for a second. “We’re flatmates.”

And God, if that same exact thought hadn’t kept him from ever moving past where you were right this second.

“Yea,” he agreed in a whisper.

You were flatmates.

But then you let a hand move up to his neck, and Joe copied the move. Got you by the base of the skull and tested to see if he could guide you to tip your head the way he wanted it to tip.

You easily let him.

Lips brushed. Only briefly. No one flinched or moved back, and Joe hovered right in front until he felt your fingers pull him closer.

“But we’re close.”

the end

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #define close

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enhafilthandfiction · 2 years ago

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Secret naughty things you two only know about >:)

A/N : Hello! ik the title isn't that clear but idk how to phrase it, like inside jokes between you, but not jokes, like things in general- whatever read and find out :)) Inbox is open!!

Pairing : Bf!HyungLine X Fem!Reader

Warnings : some crack, sexting, dirty talk, degrading names, being horny, slight mentions of oral (f.rec) at the end.

Word Count : 900 Words (About 225 words each)

Masterlist

» Lee Heeseung «

Intertwines middle fingers with you

When you two are out, instead of holding hands like a normal couple, he tends to fuck his middle finger into your fist until you get the message and also stick out your middle finger, wrapping it around his, forming a little chain.

Sexting each other when you're with friends but both bored

He takes out his phone from his back pocket and opens your contact, sending you a cheeky message. He glances at your spaced out face from across the dinner table and you feel the familiar vibration of your phone in your back pocket. A smile forms on your face as you read the message, smirking and sending him one back.

Hee <3 - 6:32 pm Fuck baby, you look so pretty, can't wait till we get home, wanna fuck you in that slutty little dress you're wearing

Y/n-ie - 6:35 pm I'm so wet for you Seungie, can't we just fuck in the bathroom?

Hee <3 - 6:35 pm Anything for you baby, you go first, I'll come after you ;)

» Park Jay «

Wearing each other's clothes

He absolutely loves it when you ask him for his clothes because 'he has a better style' or because 'his clothes are comfier'. He loves picking out clothes for you, it makes him feel warm on the inside because you're like his little baby. He loves knowing that you're wearing something of his so you could think of him whenever he's not with you. He also doesn't mind asking for something out of your closet, always wanting to keep something of yours with him. He especially loves the fact that no one knows that you share clothes.

Eye fucking each other

He tends to stare at you for too long, just to get you hot and bothered. He won't take is eyes off of you until you start looking back at him. It soon becomes an intense staring competition until one of you breaks. You can see him smirk from your peripheral vision, feeling small under his gaze. When you break contact, he just winks at you and flicks his eyebrows up and down, a signal to what he's gonna do to you back home. All you can do is smile, and he gets your message. He loves how you two can communicate just with eye contact without anyone suspecting a thing.

» Sim Jake «

Wearing matching underwear

Every time you two go shopping you always end up coming home with a new pair of matching underwear. It could either be a leopard print or with colourful doughnuts but his boxer briefs and your panties are always matching. The benefit of this is that when you two are getting dressed, you always pick a pair of underwear together and sometimes he even offers to put it on for you. Even before showering, he prepares your pjs (which could also be matching) and most importantly, your matching underwear. He likes it because you're the only two that know about it.

Whispering dirty / naughty things in your ear

He loves flustering you, making your cheeks go red, especially when you're with your friends. He comes up behind you, pretending to innocently back-hug you, until his lips make their way to your ear, whispering things that only you can hear. That way, no one listens in to your business and it's just between you two. I think this becomes a habit for him and he starts whispering the normal things in your ear too. "You're so pretty Y/n" he whispers as his hands rub along your waist "I'm gonna fuck you so good once we get home" your friends could only guess what he's saying that's making you blush like that.

» Park Sunghoon «

Has dirty talk as a love language

Behind closed doors he calls you all sorts of insulting names, but you know that he's just adoring you and so why he calls you those names. His favourite ones are probably 'slut' or 'doll' so when he calls you that you know he's just cooing at you. He loves telling you what he wants to do to you, all his dirty fantasies involving you. You could be doing something as simple as brushing your teeth and he goes like "Bet I can fuck your mouth better than that toothbrush can" because a thought of you giving him head had just ran through his head. He also loves praising you by degrading you. "My dirty slut, taking me in so well" He knows you like it when he talks to you like that cause you can't stop clenching around him. You love the fact that he only talks like this to you when you two are alone, it's a different hot side of him.

Has codes for when one of you is horny

He suggested creating codes between you so you can know when one of you is needy. It can be as simple as an irrelevant word like 'pineapple' or 'whipped cream' and he gets the message. It could also be a whole phrase or situation like "Hoon, I don't feel too well, I think I'm sick" you say with a cheeky smile. He immediately gets the message and excuses you both from the boring place you were at, taking you to the closest private place and getting down on his knees, lifting your skirt up as he stuffs his face in your wet, needy core.

Hello, thanks for reading to the bottom, I hope you enjoyed reading! My inbox is open for emoji anons and (if you wanna be) moots! Have a good day/night and remember that ily <333

If you enjoyed this post, you can support this blog by tipping me here! Anything is greatly appreciated :)

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queen-of-roaches · 6 months ago

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Sigh.

How BROZONE will react to you on your period.

Kill me.

Warning: nothing, just fluff and comfort

Request for more, idc what you want I’ll give it.

Hopefully I have enough sanity.

Theres also some curse words, so beware <3

Let’s start with the man himself,

THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND

JOHN DORY.

Good luck.

Dude literally freaks the HELL out once you tell him your in pain

Do you REALLY expect him to know what a period is? He’s been living in the middle of nowhere for like 20 years with no social contact with anyone.

Once you say “I’m on my period” he’s confused, once you explain it to him (however you want idc) he’s disgusted but also concerned for you

I mean who wouldn’t after being told you piss blood every single month and have terrible cramps all day.

I would like to imagine once you explained, he would take care of you. Like give you cuddles, give you whatever you need, medicine, food, chocolate, water, etc etc.

After giving you everything you need for the day he comes into bed with you and snuggles with you

He probably suffocated you during the night on accident when you both were sleeping

The pressure on your stomach felt nice since he’s all warm and stuff.

SPRUCE/BRUCE

Spruce? Well he isn’t as worried as JD, but he’s still a little concerned

Once you tell him your cramps hurt like hell, he’ll give you stuffy for your tummy and water and food that you requested for

He would lay next to you in your bed, you on your phone and him holding you from behind. His chest against your back.

He would rub your hip as he snuggled against you

The plushie against your stomach kinda helped a little.

The plushie had a little pressure against your tummy which felt kinda nice.

He has like 13 kids, ofc he knows what a period is.

He would go to the store and get you pads, tampons, or whatever things you need.

He just lets you sleep in for the week instead of working in the restaurant

You can’t lie he’s pretty cute when it came to comfort ❤️

CLAY

Baby boy Clay is a little worried.

I mean he’s used to Viva having her period I guess

But he’s just a little confused on how to take care of you.

He went to viva to ask for help-

Once he got some info, he asked what YOU wanted.

You told him you just wanted him to be with you through this, or whatever

He would sit on your bed, his back against the head board

He would lay your head on his lap and talk about one of the books he read in the sad book club

You listened to him speak sadly about the book that was about a black widow who ate her husband-

He’s weird in books

You could tell by this conversation.

He would also make you food if you want, and give you some water or a drink of your choice.

While your head laid on his lap he would rub your back, slowly going up

Resting his hand on your neck, his hand scooted up and played with your (long, short) hair.

FLOYD!

Jesus. Floyd is the most baby emo boy when it comes to you already.

When you said you were on your period he melted and started to tell you words of encouragement.

He got extra blankets and shut the windows, closing the curtains.

He turned the lights off, gave you water, soup, a heating pad, rubs on your thighs and tummy, and turned on the tv watching ‘the Lorax.’

He would be in between your legs, his head on top of your stomach as he caressed your thighs.

It felt nice to be touched by Floyd, he was always so gentle and soft when it came to comfort.

He placed a soft kiss on your tummy, saying “it’s okay…” and “I’m here”.

He’s such a sweetie boo ✋🤨

Idk if I should do Branch or not. I’ll work on it tho

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starryhiraeth · 2 years ago

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Toddler Headcannons

Acotar & Tog

PT 1 here-

Acotar pregnancy Headcannons

(Btw I’m so sorry it’s been so long, I’ve been doing my exams and I’ve been so busy with them but I’m back so please feel free to request anything)

(There might be spelling errors, idk I did read through it but it’s anyones guess at this point🤷‍♀️)

Rhys-

•He might as well shout from the tallest mountain that he has a daughter

•Will bring her EVERYWHERE, even high lord meetings, she’s just sitting there ether on yours or his lap, or she’s playing with toys in front of you

•You cant tell me Rhys isn’t the parent to dress his kids in thousands worth of designer clothes that they are going to grow out of within like a month anyway

•SPOILED FUCKING ROTTEN, she is SO cheeky, most times her giggles will echo throughout the halls. She has absolutely NO FILTER, at the high lords meeting she’ll point a Beron and repeat what she heard Rhys say when talking about him “Ginger cunt” it was quite an awkward meeting after that

• He literally can’t say no to her, and she knows this, all she has to do is the puppy/baby doll eyes and she gets whatever she wants

Azriel-

•Your two daughters are polar opposites, of course they had Illyrian wings and Az’s hair but they have your eyes and Az adores it, he’s very protective over his daughters

• Thea is much more gentle than her sister, when she was younger she was scared of her shadows but now they are a comfort to her and Az taught her how to wrap them around herself like a blanket (she has gotten stuck a couple times tho)

•She usually does that blanket thing whenever she’s snuggling with Az, they are both very calm so she defo a daddies girl

•Petra is a mini psycho, not really but she is much more wild, when she was a baby she would have massive tantrums whenever she wasn’t near you, she’s a mummas girl, and was never scared of her shadows but instead used them to freak out her sister #sistertings

•Like I said, Petra was much more wild, like she would act first and think later, this stresses Az out SO MUCH because he’s scared something will happen to her but it brings him comfort when he sees her finally calm while asleep laying on you whilst your on the sofa

Cass-

•Goes flying with Jaxs almost everyday, it gives you a mini heart attack every time but you trust that he won’t drop him, Cassian would rather fly into a volcano then put your son at risk

•Jaxs is prone to having tantrums, he doesn’t mean to be stroppy, he is just very emotional and doesn’t know how to explain is and so he cries and sometimes hits

•The first time Jaxs hit you in a tantrum, he was 2, it wasn’t hard and he tried hugging your after but Cassian was pissed, he put Jaxs on the naughty step and was scared his son would just get more violent, to which you had to explains that Jaxs just had big emotions for a small child and is learning

•After that you all fell asleep in an armchair, you in Cassian’s lap and Jaxs in yours, somehow it was beautiful and chaotic, Cassian held you both closer and couldn’t remember a time when he had been so happy

•When he’s not unhappy, Jaxs is the most rambunctious, you can’t count how many times he’s come to you with a red mark on his face because he ran into a glass door, he’s a sweetie though and such a carbon copy of his father, also I can totally see Cassian wearing those baby carries that go across the front, with no shame, he’s comfortable in his masculinity

(Btw, he’s still hung up on the fact that you didn’t let him call Jaxs Cassian Jr)

Lucien-

•Lucien is very warm, idk how to explain it but I imagine him giving very homely vibes

•Kalea is the same, she likes staying close to her parents and really likes nature, so much that every Saturday you all go on walks in the country side

•There, Kalea chases butterfly’s and picks flowers, though the orange ones are always here favourite

•She doesn’t really have a favourite parent, she just finds comfort in both of you and is a little cautious meeting those she doesn’t know but when she gets to know then she is super cute

•You two are Lucien’s entire world, nothing, and I mean nothing could make him happier then playing board games in pyjamas as a family, Infront if the firelight whilst the sun sets

Eris-

•So-Berons dead!

•Anyway, he DOES make tiny thrones next to yours and his for your sons, Idris is the older one but Maël is the one who acts older, Idris is the one accidentally setting trees on fire whilst Maël judges from a distance

• Maël will usually be found in your lap, playing with whatever necklace you have on and trying to relax when suddenly Idris, with the tips of his hair on fire comes running through the hallways yelling like a madman and 2 seconds later Eris is running after him

•After that Maël will probably mutter something like “They crazy mama” to which you just nodded

•Eris will make some serious changes to the decor in your house, whilst growing up all Eris remembers is the lifeless dark hallways so he changes that immediately, he is determined to be better than his father and give his children a happy childhood

Helion-

•Yuna is the probably one of the most spoiled children ever! And I mean like- if it were a modern AU her room would be worth like 30Mil by the age of 5

•Her favourite colour is gold and she is absolutely covered in it! Gold clothes, gold jewellery, gold glitter, gold everything!

•speaking of gold glitter, it’s everywhere! And if you think for one second that Helion is embarrassed to be covered in gold glitter then I’ll just let you know that he is the one who keeps buying it for her, He wears the glitter and wears it proud!

•Your lives are luxuriant! Just imagine, in a row, Helion, you, Yuna, all in massage chairs with cucumbers on your eyes and face masks in silk robes detailed with golden flakes…you lucky bitch

•Yuna will sit on her fathers throne ALL THE TIME, she’ll be high lady one day and she knows it, actually there were many times where you sat on Helion lap on your throne and Yuna had a mischievous smile on her face as she sat on her fathers throne all by herself

Dagdan-

•Okay so- Rune and Zara kind of hate each other, they are always arguing and I don’t mean normal sibling arguments, it actually worries you and since Dagdan thinks that twins are important and doesn’t like them fighting, he’ll sit them in a room and tie there hands together when they argue. Think:

•and as much as you feel bad for your babies it kinda funny

•the only time the twins get along is when they are making CHAOS

•Setting the throne on fire ✅

Trying to jump into the cauldron ✅

Stealing their great uncles crown and throwing in a nearby river ✅✅✅

•You and Dagdan love them but sometimes you’ll put them in Brannagh’s room and just take off, for her to look after them for a couple days 😂

Tamlin-

•soooo- there was a joke on my last post in the comments about Tamlins kid being born with dark hair and purple eyes and as funny as I thought that was, I’ll continue will my original plan😂

•Tamlin originally thought he would want a son but when your daughter arrived he couldn’t have ask for anything more or different, he loves her more than life and have every plant based nickname for her “Petal” “rose” “Lily flower” and the list goes on

•Persephone is the sweetest child that ever was, she had Tamlins hair and your eyes and lots and lots of freckles, she also has dimples ☺️

•She is know an as the “The realms Joy” throughout spring court and the people love the little princess though Tamlin sometimes worries that the harshness of become a ruler will kill her happiness, you assure him that she’ll have people by her side to help her

•She does this really cute thing where she’ll go up to someone, usually you or her father and ask what your favourite flower is, it doesn’t matter if you’ve already told her, she’s little okay? She forgets these things!, anyway she’ll ask your favourite flower and after you say it she’ll nod her head and march out of the room only to return 25 minutes later with basket full of the flower that you named and maybe a couple weeds she’s just so happy she could give them to you and Tamlin will have them put in a vase every time, weeds and all

Im so sorry this took like a century to write 😂

Anyway, exams are over so I can write so much more now and I’m open to requests

I’m honestly kind of surprised how much I wrote for Tamlin, but I guess it’s Tamlin fans lucky day, your welcome 😉

Anyway ummm

Bai?❤️

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lookismfanfics · 2 years ago

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Hii! Hope you're doing okay. May I request some of the characters accidentally hitting their calm maleReader instead of the enemy and now he's getting a huge bruise on where they hit him? thx u

Idk how many characters I'm allowed to choose so I'm just gonna name a few and you can pick..? 😅

Jake / Vasco / Zack / Jace / Vin Jin / Warren / Megumi / Goo

“𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝!”

Warnings: Mentions of violence, fluff, not really fluff though, cursing, mentions of balls.

Jake • Vasco • Zack • Jace • Vin • Warren • Megumi • Goo

Hey anon! I’m doing good, thanks for asking! ♡︎ I decided to do everyone you requested because yes 😩 I also changed it up a little with the “enemy” part. Some of them are petty interactions, and others are full-fledged brawls lol.

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ He was focusing a little too hard.

✧ The same mantra kept echoing in Jake’s mind, urging him on: “keep fighting.”

✧ He was just a little caught up in everything, that’s all—

✧ He was absorbed in hearing the definitive crack of his opponents nose, feeling the warm spew of blood that followed a hit to the ribs, seeing the trail of bodies that followed his path

✧ These suckers were really something. There were so many of them, and they had been harassing this area for long enough

✧ Jake had called out to Jerry to ask “Where is he?” But hadn’t gotten a response

✧ Then there’s a rustle behind him

✧ A sneak attack.

✧ Instincts go: 📈

✧ He whips around, just barely seeing the glint of purpose in his opponents eyes

✧ “Jake!”

✧ He feels the warm contact of hitting a cheek. But Jake isn’t stupid and realizes his fatal error

✧ I mean… who would’ve guessed that the opponent would duck?

✧ “Sorry (Y/N)! Where’ve you been-?” He pants

✧ Honestly Jake has never been more ashamed. He did hit him, didn’t he?

✧ (Y/N) doesn’t seem fazed, he just keeps up whatever he was doing. “It’s fine… I’ve just been around.”

✧ The man is hardly panting… damn you (Y/N). You’re attractive even when you aren’t trying…

✧ (That’s what Jake thinks anyways)

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ As soon as the fight is over, Jake runs.

✧ His dress shoes slam against what bare concrete is left, avoiding the piles of unconscious and semi-conscious bodies.

✧ He tries not to panic. He has to play it cool, and not throw a fit.

✧ Eventually, he finds you talking to Brad, nursing your busted fists with your back to him. Jake let’s out a sigh, “Pretty nasty hit you took there.”

✧ A playful smile toys at his lips as he observes you. You turn to him, seemingly unscathed, nodding with a small smile, “Uh, yeah. Nice punch Boss.”

✧ He tries not to let the use of formalities affect him too much. (Inwardly wounded)

✧ “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, this time with a note of concern.

✧ “He thinks he has a concussion, boss,” Brad interrupts, just the hint of a smile intermingled with his serious tone.

✧ You ignore Jake’s slacked jaw and bewildered look, eyeing Brad tiredly, “So much for keeping a secret.”

✧ “You shouldn’t keep secrets from the boss- or your boyfr—”

✧ “(Y/N),” Jake drags his finger beneath your chin, prompting you to turn to him. “Is that tr…ue?”

✧ It’s not the thought of a concussion that made Jake stop.

✧ It’s…

✧ 😰

✧ “Your cheek… is this the one I hit?”

✧ You nod.

✧ “Well uh~ not to worry you but… it’s bruising just a little~” “It’s fine Jake-”

✧ Apparently he didn’t think it was “fine”.

✧ Jakes brows furrow together as he examines you. With the way his eyes darken and his smiles fades, He looks beyond apologetic; it’s as if guilt seeps into his every movement.

✧ “You don’t have to worry about it,” you smile. There’s not even the slightest hint of anxiety in your voice, but it does nothing to reassure Number One of Big Deal.

✧ “Yeah but you know I will,” he smirks half-heartedly, quickly reverting back to his worried face.

✧ He’s never letting it go. Every time he sees the splotch of that massive dark bruise, he feels the urge to apologize.

✧ It’s beyond an inside joke too.

✧ Anyone brings it up jokingly, and his head sags and a shadow runs across his face.

✧ “Sorry about that (Y/N).”

✧ “Jake, it healed months ago.”

𝐕𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐨

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ✧ Fights like these were becoming more often.

✧ Vasco was adjusting to the oncoming rush of bad guys. He was confident in his abilities. Sure of himself; he was bound to crush them all.

✧ But…

✧ “(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

✧ His dark eyes scan the battlefield of boys swinging at each other, searching for one man in particular.

✧ He catches him in his sight. (Y/N).

✧ “Are you almost done—” “Euntae, focus.”

✧ The tone of his voice sends a chill down Vasco’s spine.

✧ The cogs in his brain stop working for a second as he continues fighting on autopilot. He wants to keep an eye on (Y/N). He doesn’t want to loose sight of him.

✧ Vasco feels a harsh smack to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. What was that? His instincts heighten as his body reacts frantically.

✧ He turns to the guy fighting him, readying one of numerous forbidden moves just for him.

✧ Once he sends the guy flying it’s back to looking for (Y/N)-

✧ “Euntae-!”

✧ Smack.

𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐎𝐕

✧ “(Y/N)?! (Y/N) are you okay!? Please wake up!”

✧ Vasco was reduced to a sobbing mess.

✧ You open your eyes, staring at his red face damp with tears. It’s an odd sight- especially since you only fell down a couple of seconds ago.

✧ “Yeah Vasco… I’m fine,” you offer a small smile. Even if it does hurt, you know making a big deal out of nothing would be problematic.

✧ You act calm. Chill. Even a little nonchalant.

✧ Vasco remains crouched on the ground while you dust off your pants, glancing around the parking lot littered with bloodied “bad guys.”

✧ “You’re positive that you’re alright?” He asks slowly, staring at you with concern.

✧ “Yeah. It’ll probably form a bruise at the most,” you reply. You touch your chest, seemingly unfazed.

✧ You feel awful for lying to him. Your chest feels like it’s on fire. It’s sore and laborious to breathe… but you won’t tell him that.

✧ “Sorry.” Vasco says simply.

✧ No one brings it up until you’re undressing at the Burn Knuckles base.

✧ Everyone is slipping out of their jumpsuits and into more comfortable, casual clothes. It smells sweaty and feels humid… but somehow Leon always manages to steal the bathroom before anyone else. (Thankfully)

✧ You listen quietly, offering smiles as Vasco retells a story about him and Jace, obviously awaiting your reaction.

✧ He doesn’t intentionally flaunt his muscles in front of you… but sometimes it seems that way. That’s partially why you like to keep most of your clothes on around him- so he doesn’t start comparing. 😳

✧ “That’s funny~” you reply to one of his stares that begged for your approval. You lift your shirt off over your shoulders, slinging it around your neck as you grab a fresh one.

✧ The room: … You: … You: 🫥

✧ “…What?”

✧ Vasco’s eyes start to gloss over as he frantically grabs your shoulders, examining your bare chest.

✧ “(Y/N)… who hit you?” “I’m sure lots of people did…”

✧ Vasco shakes his head, rubbing his hand across the massive dark splotch that stains your skin. The discolored purple and red resembles a fist… but it doesn’t seem to click to him.

✧ If he means right there… then…. “Probably you.”

✧ You smirk, shaking your head as Vasco stares at you in horror. The bruise doesn’t really bother you- you’re covered in them after today anyway.

✧ Of course you handle his outbursts calmly… reassuring him that you’re not angry.

✧ But he continues, eyes scanning over you for any more bruises that he might’ve given you. “I’m sorry (Y/N)… I didn’t mean for that to happen…”

✧ Vasco: 🥺😰

✧ He apologizes a million times, often quietly and at random. ✧ No- he will not forgive himself.

✧ Yes… he forgets about it for a few weeks before remembering and apologizing all over again.

✧ Jace and the rest of the Burn Knuckles make sure to not ever bring it up again. You also are forced to wear some form of padding under your shirt whenever you get into a fight.

𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐤

✧ Zack isn’t gonna deny it. That guy is getting on his nerves.

✧ This was supposed to be a hang out with him and (Y/N). They were gonna chill and head to the movies. Maybe do some karaoke later.

✧ Just the two of them. Not even Mira was tagging along today.

✧ But then this guy showed up.

✧ Zack feels himself growing more agitated by the minute. He grits his teeth and looks in the opposite direction, willing himself to calm down.

✧ (Y/N) and him are on a park bench… and this idiot decides to stand behind them and catcall.

✧ “You work out bro~?”

✧ Zack is literally seething. (Y/N) has to put his hand on Zack’s leg to keep him from springing up.

✧ “Do you mind reading between the lines?” (Y/N) asks, flashing his three middle fingers before turning to Zack.

✧ “Wanna go to the theatre early? We could walk around-” he whispers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

✧ Zack is still irked. His brows are knitted together tightly, but he simply shrugs and nods: “Whatever. Let’s just get away from this dunce.”

✧ The dunce, however, seems to really like being annoying. “Can I tag along with you two-?”

✧ “F*ck off,” Zack glares. He starts walking ahead, curling his hands into fists but keeping them shoved firmly in the corners of his pockets.

✧ He keeps his gaze trailed on the ground, trying to cool off. He’d hate to ruin this hang out with (Y/N) even more. So he’ll play it cool and be the bigger man- like Mira tells him to be. It’s hotter that way. ((Y/N) will think so too, right?)

✧ The smirk that spread across his lips disappears in a matter of moments.

✧ “Nice ass-!” The creep calls.

✧ And that’s it. The final straw.

✧ Zack is going for a straight jab. He’d be caught dead before he let someone get away catcalling (Y/N) of all people-

✧ He turns and slams his fist, making direct contact. He can hear the definitive clack of teeth, he watches as he stumbles backwards.

✧ But Zack realizes what he’s done…

✧ “S-Sh*t (Y/N)! What were you doing there-?” (Y/N) nurses his jaw tenderly, glaring. He sighs and turns to the guy, telling him to ‘beat it.’

✧ Zack moves to cup (Y/N)’s cheek, looking frantic. He mumbles ‘idiot’ over and over… but more to himself than anyone.

✧ He knows he’s screwed up big time. He’s insistent on helping (Y/N) walk… even though he isn’t dizzy and he claims his cheek isn’t sore.

✧ He tries to forget about it as they watch the movie… but he can’t. As soon as the lights in the cinema flicker on he scans (Y/N) for any bruising.

✧ “I can’t believe it’s so big…” “I already told you it’s fine.” “But- argh I should beat that guy to a pulp- you sure you’re okay?” “Yeah I’m sure, Zack.”

✧ He’s apologetic- but still an angry boy at heart.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐞

✧ In his defense- Jace is usually pretty good about “self control” and everything.

✧ He’s also pretty good about it reading the atmosphere. He can tell when the mood has turned sour or hostile.

✧ He’s able to “let it go” when there’s a petty misunderstanding. Most of the time.

✧ But today this one guy (Duri…?) is killing him.

✧ He’s been a nuisance for a few weeks now… but The Burn Knuckles never had the heart to tell him off. Even (Y/N) was pretty chill about the guy- and he was usually more fiery than Jace.

✧ But as of right now, Jace stands idly with Woong and (Y/N), listening to whatever BS that guy, Duri Lee, is spewing out.

✧ Woong and (Y/N) are listening boredly as the one-sided conversation turns from childish comparisons to full-fledged insults.

✧ Duri wraps his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder, despite (Y/N) having shrugged him off twice already.

✧ Jace feels awful. He reminds himself of how jealous Johan was back during the One Night scandal. It’s embarrassing knowing that he’s feeling jealousy about… this.

✧ He’s not a jealous person… but Duri really gets on his nerves. If he keeps up his stupid act, his stupidity might spread to Jace… and then he’ll do something stupid.

✧ Even as Duri begins to degrade Jace himself, rambling a bunch of nonsense about how he “isn’t as smart as he looks”, Jace manages to keep it together. He feels a twinge of annoyance and glares, but he doesn’t say anything.

✧ The rest of the Burn Knuckles aren’t buying the bs anyway. So it’s fine.

✧ “Know you place, Duri.”

✧ Jace’s gaze snaps over to (Y/N). Did he hear him correctly? Did (Y/N) finally say something? He feels a small smile winding onto his face-

✧ “I know exactly where my place is!” Duri sputters indignantly. His look of shock is short lived and is soon replaced by a smirk. It’s highly probable that he’ll take a pathetic jab at redemption.

✧ Jace hates the way Duri’s eyes roam over (Y/N). He braces himself for what comes next.

✧ “It should be sweating over you, if you know what I mean.”

✧ Great. Gross.

✧ Jace turns to Duri now, scowling at him, “You wanna say that again? The Burn Knuckles don’t hit on each other, so don’t even think-” “Whatever Jace. Me and him were just gonna do some catching up~”

✧ Duri makes a crude gesture with his hands. He keeps his arm wrapped around (Y/N), who rolls his eyes and glares.

✧ (Y/N) sighs, “Or so you think. You do know that me and Jace are-”

✧ One kick- one harsh smack. Jace doesn’t know what he’s doing- but whatever it is lands Duri facedown on the floor.

✧ He’s startled by his own rashness. Stupidity really is contagious. He frowns down at Duri but doesn’t move anymore. “Like I said. Burn Knuckle members like you aren’t allowed to hit on their superiors.”

✧ He turns to embrace the startled and disappointed stares from Woong and (Y/N) (respectively)

✧ But naturally, Duri needs to have the last word. Like all PTJ small fries, he wants to sign his death certificate a little early.

✧ “That stupid hierarchy is never gonna get you laid,” he grumbles.

✧ Jace turns and throws all his weight into the kick-

✧ Blocked.

✧ (Y/N)…?

✧ (Y/N) has his arms outstretched in a block, giving Jace an unreadable stare. He sighs, releasing the second-in-command’s foot.

✧ “(Y/N)-” “That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

———

✧ Jace is sitting with (Y/N) a little latter. He still feels a pang of frustration when he remembers the little situation… as well as guilt for hitting (Y/N).

✧ (Y/N) rolls up his sleeves, looking over his arms quietly. Based on his eerie calmness, Jace can assume that there’s a pretty large bruise forming.

✧ Despite the knowing of guilt, Jace is a tad bit grateful for the intervention. He knows (Y/N) only stopped him for the sake of his dignity.

✧ “You’re not normally so passive-aggressive,” (Y/N) comments nonchalantly.

✧ “I know… I’m sorry.” Jace rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, feeling a touch of color flare in his cheeks.

✧ He promises to help ice it, and assures (Y/N) that he won’t do anything like that again. He just smiles dryly and waves it off.

✧ “You probably won’t have the need to,” he says.

✧ Jace looks up at him, his fingers still gingerly rubbing around the bruise. “Won’t have to… attack Duri?”

✧ (Y/N) nods, “He p*ssed himself, apparently.”

✧ Jace knows it’s wrong… honest to god he feels bad… but he couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

(I swear I’m sorry this entire thing is a mess. I can’t decide which POV to stick to-)

𝐕𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐢𝐧

✧ In his defense, Vin had recently gotten his glasses re-tinted… and so he was having some trouble adjusting.

✧ But it would’ve been nice if he didn’t walk by you in some grubby alleyway. What a nuisance. He just wanted to go home, listen to some rap, and eat his onion rings.

✧ But you… of course… found yourself in a predicament. 😔

✧ “You’re just gonna stand there?” You call, back pressed against the wall as you stare lazily past the punks you apparently offended.

✧ They seem ticked that your attention is suddenly elsewhere.

✧ Vin just stares at you, silent for a moment, before shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s not my problem.”

✧ “They called me a d*ck-” you call. Although the familiarity of the term has nulled any offended emotions, you’re certain Vin has reserved insulting-you-rights for himself.

✧ “Not my problem,” Vin insists, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

✧ The punks continue to close in on you, throwing insults at the two of you- despite Vin being across the alley. You both ignore them.

✧ “Ah- they also called Mary fat.”

✧ “Still not my problem.”

✧ “They said Duke’s music is better than yours-”

✧ “Did not!”

✧ “And they called your sunglasses ‘gaudy’.”

✧ Which is followed by silence as one of the punks lowers a cigarette bud towards your cheek. You don’t flinch, staring past his shoulder at Vin.

✧ You wait in anticipation for Vin to say something. Anything. You’re so intent on seeing his reaction you hardly notice the burning sensation of the cigarette nearing your skin.

✧ “No they didn’t…” Vin mumbles. He adjusts his stance- and now you’re sure he isn’t going to abandon you.

✧ “Would you freaks shut up?!” The punk rolls his eyes in exasperation, pulling the bud away from your face and turning to Vin.

✧ “Or do you have somethin’ you wanna say too?” The delinquent flicks the cigarette to the side, staring your knight-in-shining-armor up and down reproachfully.

✧ You inwardly moan. Vin has lots of things he wants to say. It’s best not to get him started.

✧ “You talk too much,” Vin answers, and begins strutting forward.

✧ You crack your knuckles, relieved you won’t have to take them all on your own.

✧ “Anyway this is a waste of my time- so let’s just go (Y/N).” He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, not at all prepared for the slap.

✧ Yes. A petty, weak, girlish, slap.

✧ A slap that knocks his sunglasses askew. You freeze.

✧ “Hey,” you call loudly, watching as their heads swivel towards you. “Don’t look at him. Say anything and I-”

✧ The loud noise of bones cracking interrupts you-

✧ Vin goes rampant, giggling and grinning like a school girl. Oh hell. You shrug and get into your own fighting stance. “Well I guess he’ll kick your asses anyways- so nevermind…” you mutter.

✧ Those stupid glasses. Distorting his vision all the time. Even…

✧ In fights.

✧ You feel numbness tingling through your arms as you avoid another swing of your opponents arm. Reaching up with a strike of your own, you manage to punch him in the ribs for a KO.

✧ You’re so focused. Vin is so distracted.

✧ You scan the two other guys already beaten to the ground, and look up to see Vin walking towards you victoriously—

✧ But instead he’s charging you with arms at the ready— “WAIT VIN-!”

✧ He stops mid-swing… but only after he’s felt his skin contact with yours.

✧ The force sends you backwards into the wall. Nausea and dizziness begin bubbling in your body.

✧ You feel your knees buckle and your eyes crossing, and the pounding of your heart is auditable in your ears as you nurse your numb jaw.

✧ Meanwhile Vin just stands there in shock, calling you names while asking insincerely if you’re okay.

✧ “You can’t blame me cuz you were in the way you little sh*t! Ugh… f*ck…” he mutters.

✧ You’re calm while he rambled, but your patience begins to thin as he continues insisting the blame was all on you.

✧ “Vin…” you say calmly. “Would you shut the hell up. If it weren’t for your stupid glasses…”

✧ -He gawks in surprise

✧ “Then I wouldn’t have a concussion. Or a nose bleed,” you snap.

✧ There’s silence. Your face is illuminated by the blue light of your phone as you search for the Urgent Care nearby.

✧ “…That does look pretty bad.” Finally. He has the decency to be a little sincere.

✧ Vin leans in closely, trying to catch your eye. While you avoid eye contact, you are perfectly in tune with his movements.

✧ “I’m taking you to my place,” Vin huffs with a smirk, seemingly trying to redeem himself as he shoves his hands into his pants.

✧ “I thought you didn’t care earlier,” you answer, still scrolling on your phone. Only half-listening.

✧ Then his bulky arm wraps around your torso, and he scoops you over his shoulder.

✧ ‼️

✧ Not good for the nausea or dizziness.

✧ But anyway…he did carry you to the Urgent Care…

✧ Where he blatantly denies bruising you up, and even laughs a little. (Okay- he does feel a little guilty…)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧

✧ “(Y/N)-” “I’m not closing my eyes.”

✧ There’s no way you’re letting Warren take them all by himself.

✧ It’s just not happening.

✧ He seems to know. He’s fine with you fighting, as long as he isn’t there to worry over you. He can’t get over the urge to intervene and protect you until the fight is over. That’s always been the case.

✧ “You let Eli fight,” you remind him, turning to face away from him and towards the crowd of delinquents. “You’re not (Eli. That’s) different.”

✧ You’re not different than Eli? Well then, you’ll take that as a yes… even if you do inwardly know what he was trying to say.

✧ Your shoes slap against the floor as you walk through puddles of water. The day is overcast, just like Warren’s mood.

✧ Soon enough the blood mixes with the water.

✧ The man spits out a tooth as you throw an elbow into his jaw. Your clenched fists shake like leaves as you deliver a kick into his back.

✧ It’s loud- but you can’t even hear the shouts of grunts of the fight…

✧ Just the ringing in your ears. The adrenaline pump doesn’t help… it just gives you endurance and an animalistic will to withstand the blows. It doesn’t help you make decisions, or strike properly.

✧ “Warren-!” You feel your heart beating in your ears.

✧ Warren is smart in his own way. But once his mind is shrouded with concern, he’ll do anything to plow a path straight to you.

✧ Oh? You were just trying to draw his attention to the guy making a lame attempt at a “sneak attack?”

✧ Nevermind then…

✧ But as it starts winding down and all that’s left are the decently-difficult fighters… Warren feels his heart lurching out of his chest.

✧ “Gotta help (Y/N)…” he thinks to himself. And the thought replays. Over and over. “The mighty Warren Chae won’t let him get hurt...”

✧ (Y/N)…. (Y/N)….

✧ You….

✧ “You-!?” Slam

✧ Warren didn’t mean to loose focus and body slam you into the wall— but he did—

✧ “You’re…(good?I didn’t see you) in the way! (Sorry!)” His words slur thickly and he skips a few while he’s at it.

✧ Your vision feels fuzzy. Your body feels hot as he presses his rough hands against your neck. But as your heartbeat slows back to normal, and the adrenaline boost wears off, you come to face reality.

✧ The fight isn’t over.

✧ “I’m fine Warren,” you assure him calmly. “But don’t get distracted-”

✧ “Then listen to me,” he says firmly. Ignoring the oncoming kick directed at him, he leans (down/up) towards you. “Close your eyes.”

✧ He forces your body into a sitting position on the ground. Your hands shake slightly as you hold your sore shoulder. Your eyes are squeezed shut.

✧ You keep quiet and try to block out the disturbing noises. Shouts of agony, the snapping of bones. It doesn’t bother you as much when you’re fighting together… but knowing Warren is going rampant makes you uneasy.

✧ “Okay… open your (eyes).”

✧ Warren is already kneeling beside you, brushing his calloused hands around your torso to (take off your jacket and) lift off your shirt.

✧ You feel the cold slap of breeze against your skin 💨 👋

✧ Warren’s droopy eyes look a mixture of sad-dog and irritated-cat. How could he mistake you for the enemy?

✧ Guilty… frustrated… concerned.

✧ He rubs his rough palm against your shoulder. His thumb pad traces circles around the large bruise that’s forming.

✧ The longer you sit there, the darker the bruise seems. And it’s making Warren a little paranoid.

✧ “It’s getting worse-” he mumbles.

✧ “I’ll be fine.”

✧ “I’ll treat it back home.”

✧ “Alright… take me to bed I guess.”

✧ “…”

✧ A pause.

✧ “Bed rest. I meant. Not really like that.”

✧ “…I was gonna say. I’m not sure if you’re up for that.”

✧ Yeah. It’s time to shut up.

✧ Is Warren sad? Yes. Guilty? Yup. Frustrated? Very. It’s never happening again. You’ll probably never be allowed throw a punch in his presence ever again.

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢

✧ Magami curls his toes into the sticky martial arts mats that line the floor. Even though it’s night outside, the training room is still illuminated by tube lights overhead.

✧ Practicing his karate, even when the room is empty and less stuffy, still feels constructing in the mask. It’s still not as bad as it is in the arena.

✧ He practices the fluid motion of his kick again.

✧ Then the movement of his strike.

✧ He hears the door creak open. Kenta swears that if Nomen tries to interrupt him with some annoying sh-

✧ A best of silence passes as he distances himself from the sandbag. Maybe it wasn’t Nomen after all.

✧ But then there’s a voice that sounds out-

✧ Magami feels the blood rushing to his face- and without thinking he swings his leg for an ushiro geri-

✧ Slam.

✧ He feels his foot connect with wood, snapping through the barriers and splitting the cypress in half. His pulse remains sickeningly fast as he straightens and turns to face the back.

✧ He was right. It wasn’t Nomen…

✧ Instead, Tanuki - you - stands rigidly behind him, cupping your face and the shattered splinters of wood.

✧ He broke your mask.

✧ “It’s just me, Daruma…” you say quietly, still standing stiff and in shock. You stare at him with half of your face naked and exposed while dragging your finger across your damp cheek. Blood. You’re bleeding…

✧ “Don’t get in my way again.” That’s his reply.

✧ His voice is deep and muffled. A better mask for his emotions that’s the actual mask that he wears. You can tell, out of perceptiveness, that he’s a bit flustered.

✧ His brows are drawn together tightly and his lips purse from behind his disguise. He feels his heart hammering in his chest. Why Tanuki…? Of all people.

✧ You tuck your free hand into your pocket, removing the remains of your mask with the other with calm precision, nodding understandingly.

✧ “I was coming to tell you how late it was,” you drawl.

✧ This is why Kenta thinks you can be an annoying prick. You stand there in such a relaxed pose, voice drawing reactions out of Kenta he has no control over.

✧ His eyes are wandering. Tanuki (you) was always more appealing to Kenta than the others, to an extent.

✧ “How late is it?” He asks.

✧Tanuki wasn’t as annoying as Nomen, and he carried a conversation better than Hyottoko. Hanyya was always accompanied by Nomen, so that was a no-go. And Tanuki was much less obnoxious than Shiba Inu.

✧ “The circus is starting in an hour. It’s that late.”

✧ His eyes wandered up from your dress shoes, your suit pants… and flickered over that iconic, unmistakable bulge that earned you the Tanuki alias; across his chest and up to your cheek.

✧ Kenta’s attention was fixated on your cheek. With the mask no longer covering your face, he could see your features for the - third time?

✧ And your cheek, he notices, is bleeding.

✧ “You’re gonna form a bad bruise if you don’t ice that,” he remarks all of a sudden.

✧ He moves to unbutton his suit and change into the convict clothes. Keeping his focus away from you.

✧ “Oh…” you murmur from behind him. Even without looking, Kenta knows you’ve begun touching your cheek gingerly again. “Well it doesn’t matter. It’s always covered up anyway.”

✧ Kenta doesn’t feel as guilty about it as he does embarrassed. And it’s not really- embarrassment… just- he just feels flustered. Actually, at this point he isn’t sure how he feels.

✧ “Ice it.” This time it’s not a warning, but a command.

✧ “I will… I will. Afterwards. You need help-?”

✧ At this point, Magami is convinced Tanuki could pull off any pose and turn him on. He feels riled up and agitated as you lean to help unfasten a particularly stubborn button.

✧ “…Don’t be a d*ck, Tanuki.”

✧ “‘No thanks’ would’ve sufficed.”

✧ You proceed to unfasten his shirt anyway. Kenta’s face remains impassive, but he won’t deny his gratitude for the mask policy right now 🫣.

✧ He stares at the bloody, darkening splotch on your cheek. Unmistakably the result of his kick. He also notes that you look good without the mask.

✧ Once he slides out of his shirt and into the bright orange one, he brings up his finger to tap harshly against your face.

✧ “Well, ice it soon.”

✧ He starts unfastening his pants. As he bends down, he can’t help but sneak glances at your limp bulge tucked away in your own slacks. He really disgusts himself sometimes. But you’re so damnably attractive, it’s almost annoying.

✧ Rephrase: it is annoying.

✧ You adjust your stance, shifting your weight from leg to leg and crossing your arms. Damn you. Kenta almost chokes.

✧ “Will do,” you chuckle.

✧ “Don’t make me kick you again.”

✧ “Daruma…”

Cough- cough… ☞︎ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

𝐆𝐨𝐨

✧ “Don’t wander off too far boo~”

✧ “Goo…”

✧ You feel a little exasperated. As Goo Kim’s secret friend, you’d think he’d treat you more like an equal. Or at least have confidence in your capabilities.

✧ And how did you end up being singled out as his ‘dearly beloved’ anyway?

✧ As you land another hit on some poor punk’s ribs, you feel your promise ring scrape his skin and draw blood.

✧ So… seeing as you’re wearing that ridiculous price of jewelry… you sort of already know how that story ended.

✧ But it doesn’t matter. You’re tying to stay level-headed as you fight, and your ‘future spouse’ being obnoxious isn’t soothing your nerves.

✧ In fact, you can’t recall a single time fighting with Goo was therapeutic. So I guess this isn’t anything different from the norm.

✧ “What’s for dinner?” You ask boredly. You sink into your toes and dodge a wild swing, kicking the kid in the gut.

✧ “Whatever you feel like babe!” Goo replies energetically as he finishes bashing in some heads.

✧ “I could go for some bird meat,” you muse quietly as a new onrush of guys heads your way. It’s a wonder than Goo hears you.

✧ “Ooh- okay! How about chicken?”

✧ “Pass. Turkey?”

✧ Goo swings a crowbar around expertly, a more focused expression on his features. He takes a moment to reply. “Nah… I hate the flavor.”

✧ “Okay, how about-”

✧ “Duck!”

✧ Whack.

✧ “…Or just… embrace it I guess. You look hot either way, babe.”

✧ “Kim… remember our conversation about clear communication?”

✧ “Uh huh? But I did warn ya!” “We were literally talking about birds.”

✧ You snap a guys wrist without even looking, glaring (up/down) at Goo.

✧ The rest of the fight you ignore him. Your expression remains neutral afterwards as he takes you to the urgent care.

✧ “At least it hit you in the shoulder!”

✧ “Yeah- I wonder where it would’ve hit me if I had ducked.”

✧ “Stop being all calm and angry at me boo! It’s creepy!”

✧ “…Alright. Whatever Goo.”

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