#another flop but the tv suffers for me alone

[cupidsncheerios]

let him be a little bit evil, emily. as a treat.

[simpz-art-stash]

Spitting Embers [Ch.1]

Summary: Red Son sick fic because I said so. [You can check out more of my fics on my Ao3!] “For the last time, I’m not s-suh–ACHOO!” “Woah!” MK jumped back from another barrage of embers that came his way, scrambling to rescue the bowl of soup he had in hand from suffering from a fate on the floor. “Yeah, right. And I’m just supposed to believe that you sneezing fireballs in my room is normal?!”

MK exclaimed and set the bowl down by the side of his bed, before frantically rummaging around for some of the other stuff he’d brought up to his apartment earlier to deal with the ongoing fire hazard on his curtain for the uptenth time. He honestly never in a million years would’ve thought that demons could get sick, but his mind had been changed the second he watched Red Son straight up faceplant on the ground unconscious in the middle of the street. And in mid-battle with them no less!

Red and MK sort of had a bit of a…strange rivalry since the Spider Queen fiasco. He didn’t see Red Son so frequently anymore, but that didn’t stop the demon from trying to take the other on regardless of wherever they happened to meet for the sake of keeping up appearances. MK still felt bad for the ice cream shop he and Mei had gotten caught in that one time last week. He really liked the owners of that place, they always gave much more generous scoops of ice cream than anywhere else he knew! A disapproving grunt left Red as he sank into the sheets of MK’s bed, a face that looked nothing but displeased. (seriously, did Red even know how to genuinely be happy?) “I would fare better back in my own home…” Red claimed with a sniffle. MK glanced back at him and quirked a brow. “I thought your place got trashed?” “...We moved to a temporary.” He mumbled. “Hm…” MK did away with the leftover embers on his rug before crossing his arms. “Well. I dunno where it is, sooooo I guess you don’t have much of a choice but to remain my prisoner till you're all better~” He claimed with a cheeky smirk. Red Son blinked for a moment before his face grew even more flushed than it had been as he attempted to wrestle for his freedom under the sheets. Prompting MK to rush over and keep him down. “Let go of me!! I refuse to be left in YOUR care!!” Red screeched, snapping at MK. “Geeze man calm down!! I was just joking!” The poor kid already had a hard time just trying to convince Pigsy and Tang to let him keep the guy upstairs till he was conscious again. He seriously didn’t want to have to wrestle Red Son to keep him from climbing through a window and getting hit by a car or something. Red growled and hissed, and it wasn’t until MK had managed to wedge him back under the sheets did he seem to finally sap most of the leftover strength he’d gained from his short nap. Leaving him with more of a drowsy little prince with a constant crease in their brow as he glared at the TV across from him while it played some dumb gameshow.

 MK sighed, plopping himself down in his seat and checking his phone finally. He’d texted Mei earlier about the whole fight and tried to keep her updated. In return she tried to get some details on what it was Red could’ve been possibly stricken with, before getting back to him with probably the weirdest reasoning. “You have a cold?” He blinked, before looking back at Red. He didn’t think demons could get colds, let alone a FIRE DEMON of all things. But from what Mei had checked online from several Brickit posts, it was a rare occurrence that could happen with fire demons depending on how much they exerted their cores. Red Son growled and turned his head away, though it more or less flopped pitifully to the side away from MK as he grumbled something. “How did you even get a cold??” “I do NOT have a cold!! And frankly, even if I did, it’s none of your dam business!” Red snarled, despite all the signs being there. Flushed skin, lack of high temperatures, even his hair lacked its usual vibrant sheen and hadn’t sparked worth a flip since MK had brought him in. “Hm…Well I think that if you wanna get out of here sooner you might wanna consider giving me an idea of what it is exactly you do have.” MK noted, sitting back with his arms crossed like a scolding parent. Red huffed, but could easily feel the other’s gaze watching over him. And eventually he seemed to grow too unbearable with the awkwardness of the silence right then before deciding to finally ease his barrier a little. “My lab got flooded…” He grumbled. MK tilted his head a little, and was about to ask how that happened when Red continued. “It was a collection of things..I’d been trying to repair the majority of what Bullclones I could and defrag their systems to erase any..faults.” Faults in their programming that might’ve still been there after DBK’s possession. “My parents…also wanted to move..” MK must’ve figured Red at that point was too tired to really keep up with his whole ‘mightier than thou’ appearance because surely the guy would’ve never admitted such a straight up serious discussion like that. This would make things SO much easier for him here then! No more having to worry about DBK and his weird grudge against his master and him trying to take the city because of it. One less enemy to deal with… So why didn’t MK feel good about it? “So…your lab got flooded..?” MK prodded gently away from the more sensitive topic to something less so in hopes of getting the rest of the details. Red sighed wistfully, probably mourning the loss of his precious creations. “I was attempting to scavenge some parts from my old lab..I’d been doing it for a while since our current accommodations are hardly anything near as good..but apparently one of the corridors had become flooded by the sewers and when I opened the door to check…” “Ah…” MK sucked in a grimace, that definitely explained things better. That, plus Red overworking himself, no doubt gave reasoning as to why he was in his bed as cold as ice right now while spitting embers instead of fireballs.

MK checked his phone again, searching through Mei’s text before clicking on a few of the links she’d tossed him that might help. Checking them out yielded him…mixed results. ‘Burn out’ took on a whole new meaning to MK right then. Apparently the general core status of most fire demons remained at a constant temperature that was WELL above his own. And required to stay at that temperature in order to remain healthy. Usually it was pretty hard to shift the scale so hard it would cause a burn out, typically it could be done in a multitude of ways. Submerged in water for a prolonged amount of time, using too much fire in battle… The one that really caught his attention however was the one regarding ‘emotional distress’.

‘Fire demons are known for having very fickle emotions which generally revolve around ‘agitation’ to borderline anger. In most cases this show of frustration can be summed up due to stress, and usually it can be dealt with accordingly by the user releasing various amounts of fire to cope with their core temperature.’ ‘However, if left in a state for a given amount of time, it can generally lead to a build up of too much fire. Overheating the core and stressing the user's body out to the point of causing a burn out in order to cease the core from destroying the body overall.’ MK had to re-read several of those lines again, because for the most part he had NEVER in all his years heard such facts. Then again, Red Son was probably the first fire demon he’d ever personally met, even if they were just rivals, MK had no reason to really dive into the ‘technicals’ of demon biology before… He looked back at Red Son with a new varying perspective for once. Before frowning when he’d realized the other had gone silent. “...Red?” No response. MK figured the other had finally had enough of their interrogating and had gone to sleep, but something nagged the back of his mind. ‘In most cases this show of frustration can be summed up due to stress.’ Was that why he was always so angry with everything? Because he was stressed? He figured he couldn’t really blame him, considering who his parents were and who he was to them…a prince had to be perfect after all in order to be seated on the throne or however things worked in that regard. A sigh left MK right then as he tucked his phone away and stood up. It was only then did he notice something a little off about Red. And came a little closer to inspect what it was exactly. Only to be caught off guard entirely when he took in the sight of two horns protruding from the prince’s forehead, dusted vaguely with hints of red as they blended in with his skin. Since when did Red have horns??? “Uh, Red?? Why do you-” MK recoiled a little at the chill that nipped at his fingertips upon having reached out to rouse Red. The dude was freezing!! “Red!” He pushed aside any boundaries right then as he turned the demon over to face him, only then was he able to take in the other additional features that had suddenly sprung out of nowhere. Alongside the tipped horns, was a pair of red fuzzy ears that almost resembled that of the Bull King’s, add in the cute little tail with a tuft of red fur sprouting from it and you got the combo of a much less fearsome fire demon than what MK had previously fought. He’d heard of glamours before, but he hadn’t thought Red Son used them given how natural his look appeared. Though it made sense now…he couldn’t be the Bull Prince if he didn’t look the part after all. Though even with such cute accessories, they still didn’t help mask the abundance of scars that marked his chilled frame. MK had always figured he had a few hidden here and there besides the one on his face, but he never would’ve expected a whole canvas. Shaking his head out from his thoughts, he had to remember that his current patient wasn’t doing so hot, literally, and tried to gauge a response out of the guy. “Come on Red, wake up! Yell at me, tell me how dumb I look, somethin’!” MK’s shoulders slumped when the other didn’t respond. It was only after checking his heart rate and breathing did he just barely save himself from the brink of a breakdown. They were still there, just very,  very  slow. “Fuck…” Was the only thing MK said last before he called up Mei for an emergency meeting.

[palbabor-writes]

Hellooo queen I hope you had/will have a great day. This is actually my first time requesting something so I’m very sorry if I do something wrong 🥺🥺... can you maybe write some fluff (OR NSFW I DONT MIND... just love him way too much damn) stuff for dabi?? I don't know if you only take requests with exact instructions or if this request is enough... if you need something more precise i will try to come up with something! Thank you very much!!

Hello, love! You did it perfectly & thank you so much for asking! I can be a bit of a lurker on things, so I totally get how much courage it takes to do one of these.

You did amazing & I love, love this question. I love it so much that I went ahead and took an old outline of mine & made it into a full blown fic for you!

Now, in honor of all the craziness swirling around our favorite flame user, Imma post it a little earlier then I’d planned! So, thank you for the ask & I hope to talk to you again ( ＾◡＾)っ ♡

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7496

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW 18+ only, mentions of blood and gore, heat play, dick piercings, adult language and freaking Dabi. That alone should warn you.

Thermós θερμός   ther·​mos adjective m (feminine θερμή, neuter θερμόν); warm, hot, boiling, glowing

It’s sweltering; the fervor of summer sticky, humid, and oppressive. Japan is in the throes of August, and this heatwave is not letting up. Even at night, it’s impossible for Dabi to get comfortable. He’s been lying, half naked, draped across his narrow twin mattress for the last few hours, sweating. 

His quirk isn’t helping matters.

He’s been trying to recruit new members. Every day, he sets out, pounding the pavement, sifting through the bits and pieces of trash that he runs into. It’s a pity. If those scrubs weren’t so fucking pathetic, he might not be in this predicament. But they are, and now he’s having to suffer the consequences of his temper. 

His phone gleams on his dilapidated side table, a text message chiming across the screen as it flashes a speck of brightness into the darkened room. Groaning, he leans over and snatches it up, his hands slick as he clutches the encased plastic. 

It’s Toga. 

As a rule, he tries to avoid her. He hates her chatter. It’s always some unending nonsense about those UA kids, about Stain, or about fucking blood. It’s always blood with her. Give her five minutes, and she’ll work it into her conversation somehow, even if it’s just blurting it out, a blush staining her cheeks. 

Fucking freak.

[ Blondie: 12:34 am ]

- found smth 4 u. (Y/N) has a place. Keeps it @ like 60 degrees… lol

Well, disgusting as Toga is, she has her uses; he thinks as he reads her text. 

He’d asked her, a few days before, if she knew a place where he could crash. Somewhere that had some goddamn air conditioning. The hideout’s unit is on the fritz again, not that it had ever worked all that well. 

Hmm, well this is something, at least. 

Dabi’s isn’t sure what to think about Toga’s little ‘find’. You were a newer recruit, someone that Compress had brought in. 

He hadn’t paid much attention to you. You didn’t stay at the base and were only around if there was a specific mission, or a task, that Shigaraki set for you. He isn’t even sure what your quirk is. You seemed easy-going, neutral, but he doubted you’d extend that easy-going demeanor to him camping out at your place for the A/C. 

Chucking his phone back on the side table, Dabi flops to his side and tries to drift off, hoping his exhaustion will let him ignore the suffocating heat he’s drowning in.

 Fuck. 

He’d done it again. It was hard to resist the urge when these people spouted such vague fucking bullshit at him. No one, not fucking one of them, could live up to his cause. And if they couldn’t meet that standard? Well, they were better off as ash, melting into blackened pools as the asphalt greedily soaked their blood into its cracked depths. 

There is a heat advisory today. 

He’d heard the news as he scarfed down a quick breakfast at the hideout’s bar. He wouldn’t be out for that long, he reasoned. Besides, maybe today he’d find someone good. 

Wishful thinking on his part. 

His skin feels oppressive and his staples and piercings are scalding, the metal hissing and steaming as he tries to dampen his quirk. It’s harder to regulate his temperature on hot days. He shouldn’t be out here, he thinks, snarling as he pats out a few rogue flames that catch on his dark jacket. Even lifting his arm to perform that simple task makes him grunt, hissing out a mantra of curses.

Shit, fuck, goddamn it fucking all. 

He looks bitterly up at the sun and debates his next move. 

He could retreat to the bar, but that doesn’t solve his problem. No, the viscous heat that radiated along those upper floors would just make his skin feel worse. Hell, it might even result in more mottling, his burns stretching farther along his arms and chest. He’s not going back to the bar.

Where the fuck even is he?

He peers down the alley toward the street. It’s not too busy; just after noon, so most of the foot traffic from the morning has died down. He yanks his hood up, ignoring the ache of his legs as he stalks toward the street corner. 

Carefully, he pokes out, his eyes tracing over the crosswalk, looking for the street signs. Ah. He’s close to that address, your address, that Toga sent him. 

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he saunters along the pavement, careful to keep his head down. 

You were out of town. 

He’d picked up that tidbit from Compress this morning. The masked man had been lamenting that you might be away for a few days, possibly weeks. Something about being on a fact finding task for that shadowy voice that talked with Shigaraki from his tv. 

He didn’t care, still doesn’t. All he knows is that you supposedly keep your place cold, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

You’ve got a nice apartment. 

It’s decorated in pleasing whites, yellows, reds and greens, with clean lines and modern touches. It’s kinda like you, he considers as he shrugs his coat off and breathes in that amazing waft of cold A/C. You’ve been useful to have in the League; efficient and no nonsense about the missions you're given and you can fit in with the outside world. You’d give even Toga a run for her money when it comes to espionage, he’s heard others say about you. 

Dabi tosses a distasteful glare at your narrow couch and pads toward your bedroom, shouldering the door open and stepping into the dark sanctuary.

Your bed looks nice. It’s a good size too. 

Lifting his boots from his feet and stripping down to his boxers, he presses into your clean sheets; shivering as the chilly air hits his overheated skin, cooling and dampening that oppressive sense of heat. He’s out in seconds, his body relaxing, slackening as he falls into the void of his dreams.

Yeah, now that he’s had this, there’s no way he’s staying at that hideout of the League’s unless he has to. 

You’re gone for the better part of a week. 

He’s started asking Compress about you. At first, the older man had given him an impassive stare. Since when did Dabi even know your name? 

He’s asking because he needs to talk with you about… uh… supplies? 

This, apparently, is the correct thing to say, because Compress nods his head sagely and elaborates on your timetable. You’re collecting things for Kurogiri and you’ll be gone for another few days. 

Good, Dabi thinks, slinking into your apartment again, lowering the window behind him. He’s careful to leave things as he found them, his entryway into your place included. You don’t need to know about this.

What the fuck would he even say to you? 

Hey, uh, it’s fucking hot at the hideout, and since you’ve got a working A/C unit and like 3 fans, he’s been sleeping over at yours. No big deal, right?

Even after you return, he keeps sneaking in. 

He’s gotten your schedule memorized, and he’s heedful of the hours you keep. You’re a little more regular than the others in the League. You actually sleep at night; unlike the rest. The others are often out at God knows what hour, combing for recruits and leads, but not you.

So, Dabi shifts into full night owl mode. He crashes at your place in the midmorning, after you leave for the day, trying to ignore the perfume that comes from your sheets. 

You’ve got a nice smell. 

It’s oddly comforting, and he hates when he accidentally burrows into your pillows; nostrils flared, inhaling that aroma that’s all you. While he’s never talked with you before this, he goes out of his way to ignore you now. 

What he’s doing is fucking weird, and lines are blurring. The other week he’d bumped into you coming out of the bar and he’d almost snatched you to him. 

You must have just showered, because that fucking scent was radiating off your skin. It’s nothing too, eh, feminine? No, it’s more like… oranges and sandalwood. It’s a heady blend of rich balsamic and citrus, and he can’t get it out of his head.

August has faded into September, and he’s still sleeping over at yours. 

He can’t help it. It’s not his fault your bed is so downy and, fuck, cool. It’s like the sheets don’t absorb his warmth. No, they’re always cold and they feel so fucking good against his staples and burned skin. 

It’s midmorning, closer to noon, and he’s dozing, his eyes heavy and drooping. He’s exhausted, so bone tired, that he doesn’t hear your door opening. No, he doesn’t even notice you until he hears your voice.

“Um, would you like to tell me why you’re in my bed?”

He’s on his feet in a flash, a slow flicking of blue flames tracing along his fingers. You’re framed in your doorway, eyes wide, stepping away from his aggressive stance. 

“Woah, woah,” you begin, lifting your hands in supplication. “Let’s just… take a minute and talk. I’m not-”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he snaps, his cerulean eyes narrowing, but he dampens his fire, a long curling of smoke framing his face. 

“Uh, I think you got that backward there, bud. You’re not supposed to be here, I live here,” you scoff, one hand propping on your hip, head tilted exaggeratedly. 

Dabi is about to spit something else out when you stride into your bedroom, tugging your jacket off and sauntering over to a tall dresser. He snaps his mouth closed and watches you. He’s not sure how he’s going to talk his way out of this, and he’s grateful for the reprieve. But, he knows an onslaught of anger or, fuck, preserve him, a lecture is incoming. Worst case, he thinks, observing you from his peripheral as you tug out a long shirt and some shorts, you’ll just kick him out and that will be that. 

You glance at him again, your eyes lingering over his exposed chest and legs, and he can’t help the scowl that breaks over his face. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just, well, he’s not sure how to classify that stare. Most people recoil or toss him a glance of pity, their brows wrinkled with worry and distaste. But you? You arched an eyebrow and smiled.

Fucking weirdo. 

Pausing in your doorway, you bite your lip into your mouth and carefully speak your next statement, voice smooth. “Look, while I’d rather you, oh, I don’t know, asked me about staying here. I’m not in the mood to argue with you, and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me tonight.” You take a deep inhale and toss him another smile. 

“Just… just lay back down and get some rest. I promise I won’t molest you,” you tease, and he snaps his head up at that, his chin jutting in agitation. 

You laugh at his sour face and he feels wrong-footed; lost. What the fuck? Who says shit like that? Who is in their right mind is just, oh, no worries man, promise I won’t grab your dick?

What’s wrong with you?

“I’m going to change and then I’m going to go to sleep. You can go, or you can stay, I really don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to sleep on the couch when I’m in my apartment.” You retort, that grin still lifting your lips as you step away, the wall shielding you from his view. 

Dabi remains where he is; standing in your bedroom, clad in his boxers, his hands clenched into fists by his side. Somehow this is worse than you throwing him out.

You return a few minutes later and he can’t get a good look at you. You slink past him and are under your covers in an instant. Not that he’s trying to give you a once over, he snarls to himself, shaking his inky head. 

You nestle into the comforter and turn to your side, leaving him plenty of room on the opposite end of the bed. He blinks at you, a deep welling of uncertainty nestling in his stomach. 

You’re quiet for a long moment, your eyes closing and shoulders relaxing, acting like there’s not a wanted, deadly villain in your bedroom, paces from your side. Then, you twist, giving him a quick scan, your eyes lingering over his. 

“Either lay down or get out, Dabi. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you glaring at me like that. You look like some kinda ghost.”

Your declaration provokes a huffing, agitated reaction out of him. If there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s being told what to do. 

He slings himself beside you, splaying out, his body laying on top of the sheets. You chuckle, your head peeking at him over your shoulder. He ignores you and tries to close his eyes. 

It feels strange, resting next to you like this. It’s… intimate, and he’s not sure if he hates or likes the sensation. He chances a glance at you, but you’ve already turned back to your side, your shoulders rising and lowering rhythmically. He shakes his head at your blasé reaction. How can you just, fuck, sleep? 

He can’t get comfortable and his skin feels heavy again. It’s not heat this time. No, now something else is making everything feel too close, too warm. 

He dampens his thoughts, mind frantically focusing on anything but you. As the sun slips behind the buildings across the street, his eyes lower and he fitfully sleeps, your rich smell filling his senses.

He’d left you in the night; tucking his clothes back on and easing out of your window. 

True to your word, you’d relegated yourself to your side of the bed, hardly tossing or turning as you slept. As he paced back to the hideout, he wasn’t sure what he’d gotten himself into. He just hoped you’d keep your mouth shut. He didn’t want the others knowing about this, it felt, well it’s not like him. Abrasive- fucking spewing anger and vitriol? Yeah, that was him. But this? This was too soft, too gentle. He hated it.

But that’s the problem with hate. It’s terribly close to that other emotion. They’re sisters, really. Usually love and hate exist on two sides, but they’re still the same coin, no matter how you toss them. 

You don’t act any differently after that night.

You keep coming to the hideout, giving him a vague smile and greeting before continuing your day. He’s acting differently, though. He can’t help but watch you, suddenly fascinated with how you move. He tries his best to shake himself from his musings, but sometimes he can’t help it. 

If anything, he grumbles to himself, watching you chatter with Toga, you’re subtly going out of your way to place yourself in front of him. You were never around this much before. Well, maybe you were. He didn’t pay you any mind back then, but now? Now he can’t get enough of you. 

He reacts when you laugh, or talk, his head turning, like a sunflower, toward the light you give off. Ugh. His only hopeful reprieve from this, from you, is the changing seasons. The days are getting shorter and that heatwave is finally, finally breaking. 

It’s his one comfort, his saving grace.

Yeah, he should have fucking never tossed that wish into the universe.

No, another heatwave passes over the island and it’s the worst one yet. The daily temperatures have been hitting the low 100s and the nights aren’t much better. To make matters worse, the A/C at the hideout has given up the ghost and won’t turn on at all now. 

Still, Dabi’s prepared. He’d bought a secondhand electric fan a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for the tiny slice of paradise that it grants him. It’s not as nice as your apartment, or your bed, but it will do.

He’s laying across his mattress, sweat trickling down his back and shoulders, trying to ignore that ache in his burned skin. The fan is blowing across him and he’s about to crank it up a notch when it gives out an ominous sputter. 

Dabi sits up, his eyes flashing. No, no, no, no. There’s no fucking way.

The fan’s blades are slowing, that sweet, cool air dampening, drifting into the low-lying humidity that surrounds him. He yanks the plug from the wall, his staples stinging as he stands. He stomps over to the outlet and plugs the fan back in, turning on his haunches to see if the blades will start that familiar whirl. 

There’s fuck all happening. 

Cursing, he kicks the shitty thing over and grabs his jacket, storming down the stairs and into the night.

You’re sleeping when he slinks under your window sill, sliding the glass shut and kicking his heavy boots to the floor. It’s that sound that wakes you, and you lift yourself up, your sheets falling from your chest, revealing a bare shoulder and low cut shirt to him. Unabashed by your appearance, you wipe a palm over your eyes, rubbing the sleep away and croaking out a greeting. 

“When I said you could sleep over here, I didn’t mean you could barge in at all hours. And through my window? So, that’s why the hinge looks like that.” 

Dabi considers you for a moment, his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. You tilt your head at him and suck your teeth. 

“A, oh, I don’t know, sorry, would be nice?” you scold, that alluring smile lifting your lips. He follows the line of your mouth, his thoughts hazing over, focusing on some other, darker, daydream.

“Hello?” you call, waving your hand beside your face. “Earth to Dabi. What do you want?”

That question slips him out of his stupor and he lifts his eyes back to yours. “The A/C is out. Bought a fan a few weeks ago, but the fucking thing broke and I can’t… it’s hard to regulate my body temperature in this fucking heat. You keep this place like an icebox, so I started crashing here. Wasn’t planning on coming back, but after tonight-”

“Ok, ok,” you laugh, already scooting over and flinging the covers back. “Seeing as you didn’t try any funny business last time, I guess I’ll let it slide. Just, not to be rude, but shut up and let me sleep. I’ve gotta long day tomorrow and as enthralling as this conversation is…”

“Whatever,” Dabi mutters, slinging his damp shirt over his head and pacing over to the side of your bed. You blink up at him and shake your head, that tiny grin lingering. He presses into your familiar sheets, eyes already slipping closed as the fragrance of you pulls at him.

It’s early when he wakes, shuddering out of a nightmare, red flames and crying voices fading into the back of his mind. 

Wincing, he raises a hand to his eyes and pulls at his face, relieved that it’s still cool air that meets him. As he rolls to his side, he feels something trace over his unscarred chest. The sensation makes him freeze, his eyes snapping open again, the cerulean searching, whisking over the dim figure beside him. 

You’re still sleeping, but you’ve shifted, your body curled, facing him, and one of your hands is reaching toward him. Shit, he thinks, heart pounding in his ears. You’re so close. 

He’s never been this close to you. 

Your mouth is parted, delicate lips plush and soft in the early morning gloom. He tries to shift away, but your brow creases when he does, so he stills his movements, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore that flush that is building across his nose.

This is stupid. It’s just you. It’s not like the two of you have even done anything. Fuck, you barely talk with one another. 

He burrows his head into his pillow and the shift of his body urges you closer to him, your hand opening and pressing to his skin. A sigh slips from your mouth as your fingers splay out, tapping against his warmth, and he nearly startles off the bed.

He looks down at your hand, aghast. He wants to move it off of him; can’t stand that you’re touching him, he tells himself, that you’re this close to him. But he can’t bring himself to move. Your hand is so delicate, so…

Unconscious, you turn from him, your fingers lifting on their own, curling back to you. Dabi almost moans as you slip from him, clamping down on the sudden, primal desire that races through him. He wants to grab you; to drag you back to him. 

The hell? What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sucking his teeth, he turns over, facing away from the confusing neediness that’s lapping at his subconscious. He fluffs his pillow aggressively, trying to drown out all the raw emotions that are racing through his mind.

Forget it. Sleep.

 When he wakes again, you’re gone. 

The sheets where you slept are cold under his fingertips and he sits up, his arms resting on his knees. This whole situation is so fucking weird.

He lets himself ease into consciousness before standing and stretching out the leftover kinks in his muscles; stooping to grab his discarded shirt, pulling the fabric over his head and shaking his dark head against the sunlight. Just as he’s slipping his coat on, he notices the note that’s sitting on one of your bedroom chairs. It’s got his name on it, so he snatches it up, flipping open the folded paper. 

“There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge, I won’t have time to eat it. Help yourself. There’s also a spare key on the coffee table. Take it and stop jimmying my window open.” 

Scoffing, he crumples the paper up, tossing it over his shoulder as he paces into your kitchen.

It’s a fucking thing now. 

He’s rarely at the hideout. Why bother? You don’t seem to care if he sleeps over. Hell, you make space for him. There’s gotta be something else to it; there has to be. What kinda idiot is so fucking accommodating? You act like you’re a fucking hostel or something. Well, a hostel where there’s only one bed. 

You even bought another fan. You told him you don’t like to keep the overhead one on in the cooler weather, so he can use this one for his side of the bed.

Yeah, he’s got a goddamn side of the bed. It’s fucking insane.

The other members of the League either haven’t noticed what’s going on between the two of you, or they don’t care. It’s not like either of you talk about your sleeping habits. Fuck, you still never interact with him at the hideout, content to maintain that level of professionalism.

He’s not sure why it bothers him. 

One night, the temperature drops into the low 40s and he’s stretched out on your blankets, enjoying the first real cold snap of the fall, when he sees you shivering. It’s not very noticeable, what with the way you’re turned away and bundled, but it makes him tilt his head toward you, watching. 

Another pass of his fan has you repeating the quake and, without thinking, he pulls you closer, one long arm wrapping around your shoulder and tugging. Startled, you fight his hold, but he calms your movements with a squeeze, grumbling about your stoic reluctance. 

What’s the big deal? It’s not like you haven’t brushed up against him before. Calm down. 

You quiet after that and slowly, tentatively, you lean against his bare chest, your cheek cool against his heated skin. He tucks his chin over your head and tries to keep his breathing even. He doesn’t want you to hear, fuck, feel his heartbeat; it’s slamming its way out of his throat and he gulps when your fingers pull him closer. 

“How are you so warm?” you ask, your breath floating across his pectorals. 

“It’s my stupid quirk,” Dabi mutters, dipping his head down to his pillow, shifting you with him. You nod against his lean muscles and your fingertips trace cool designs into his skin, lingering over his burnt patches and staples. He sighs, unable to resist the low shiver that creeps up his spine. 

This is nice; too fucking nice.

He can’t do without your touch now.

Remember that thing about love and hate being sisters? Well, that hate is simmering into something else for Dabi. It’s not love, he doesn’t know you well enough, but it’s certainly not hate anymore.

He likes touching you. You’re smooth against his jagged skin and he enjoys the contrast. He’s slow when he pulls you against him, careful to not snag you against his staples, but you seem to like his heat. You’ve even started wearing less to bed, slipping out of that baggy shirt and into a thin tank top; he’s pleased that he has more of you to caress. 

It’s getting harder to keep you out of his head. He can smell your perfume, even if he hasn’t seen you for days, and each time he does see you, even at the hideout, his fingers itch to press against you. 

You’d laughed at his sudden, intense, interest. The hell Dabi, are you touch starved or something? You’d teased. What’s up with you? I was worried about you burning down my apartment, not you turning into some kind of cuddle fiend.

He doesn’t care what you say. He knows it’s fucking stupid, fucking dumb, that he’s this desperate. It just feels good. And there’s not much about him that feels good these days, so he’ll take what he can get. Fuck you very much.

There’s a meeting. It’s one of the ones where Shigaraki demands that everyone make their way to the bar. 

Boss man has been tense lately, thrumming with some dark energy, so the room is quiet as Kurogiri elaborates on the smaller details of the mission. Your part is minimal, limited to reconnaissance with Toga. It’s boring shit, and Dabi is only half listening to any of it.  

Besides, there’s something else that’s snagging his attention. 

Dabi is sitting on the couch, his eyes lingering on you. You’re wearing one of his favorite outfits and the color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes. You’re questioning Spinner and Toga about the finer points of your team up. He can’t hear you from here, but that doesn’t matter, he’s still in the best spot to spy you leaning forward, perfect ass on full display. 

“She’s gotten better, more adept at working undercover,” Compress’ voice shakes Dabi from his thoughts and he turns to him, a bland frown on his face.

“Who?”

“Please, you know who I’m talking about. You can’t stop looking at her.” 

He chortles, his laugh a sharp bark. “You’re fucking joking. Her? Fuck, no. I’m gonna head out, not like the boss has anything for me anyway,” Dabi stands, slipping his hands into his trench coat and pacing to the heavy door, shouldering his way into the night. 

He leans against the brick wall, lighting up a cigarette and sighing a thin line of smoke into the chilled air. Fuck, they’re noticing what’s going on. Wait. What is going on? It’s not like the two of you are fucking. Yet, a small voice echoes in the back of his mind, and he smirks at that thought. 

Yeah, maybe it’s time to speed things up.

You step out a few minutes later, your eyes searching for him. He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and wraps his fingers in your coat, tugging you to him. You don’t fight him; don’t make a sound as he pins you against the brick, his body hot against your front. 

The two of you watch the other, his cerulean eyes roving over your face. Then he’s lifting your chin, his lips sliding across yours. It’s a strange kiss. Usually, he’s too busy trying to get off to focus on his partner. He rarely kisses anyone, even if he’s hooking up. But this kiss? 

Like everything else about you, it’s fucking nice. 

You move with him, your body surging from the brick, breasts flattening against his chest, fingers cupping behind his ears; nipping and sucking at him, your teeth digging into his burned lower lip and pulling. You’re encouraging him to touch you next, rubbing yourself on him until his hands fall to your hips. He’s already half hard, and that warm juncture of your thighs isn’t helping matters.

To his shock, he’s having trouble keeping up. 

You’re already pulling from him when he dips his tongue into your mouth. He gasps at the emptiness, that chilling vacancy that your touch leaves him panting into. Before he can bemoan your absence, you’re kissing at his neck, lifting on your tiptoes to reach the staples on the side of his face. You lick at him, your wet tongue dragging over his burns. He trembles under your hands and you smile, your laugh bright. 

Snarling, Dabi yanks your head back and you meet his hazy gaze, biting your lip; pantomiming a wonton innocence. Immediately, he’s pushing you into the brick, his hands cupping and lingering until you’re whining for him. That’s fucking better, he thinks, his teeth worrying against your pulse. 

Just when he’s got you where he wants you, your hand snakes between the two of you, pressing against the bulge of his dick. Dabi can’t help his sharp intake of air, and his head falls to your shoulder as he ruts into your palm. You keep kissing at the side of his face, your lips roving over his ear as you tug at his covered dick. You’re saying something, but he can’t focus when you’re doing that.

“Dabi,” you try again, teeth ensnaring his destroyed earlobe, sucking at the burnt skin. “They’re about to come out.” 

He knocks your hand away from his straining, throbbing length and leans away from you. Fuck, you look good. 

Your lips are swollen, and your eyes are dazzling. He can’t pull himself away. You smile at his dazed expression and lift a hand to his cheek, your palm cool against his overheated skin.

The door shudders open and the two of you spring apart. A few minutes later Toga is grabbing at your arm and pulling you down the street, away from him.

He’s waiting outside your apartment, another cigarette smoldering to ash under his lips. But he can’t bring himself to go in. 

Not without you. 

Toga’s kept you busy. It’s been over an hour since that kiss in the alleyway. He’s cooled off since then, but that simmering heat that you elicited from him? That hasn’t dimmed. He’s still half hard against his dark pants and he can’t bring himself to care. Besides, Dabi has a very specific idea about how he’s going to have you lessen that pressure for him. 

He’s just about to light another cigarette when he sees you. 

You walk into your building, and he starts the long climb up the fire escape. His heart is pounding again. He hasn’t wanted something this badly in ages. He’s been so fucking focused on his cause, on making his plans a reality; he just hasn’t had the time. 

But now? Fuck, he wants there to be more hours in the day. He’s hoping the two of you can pick up where you left off. Yeah, he tells himself, scaling the last few steps, it’s just about the sex. 

That sounds better than saying what he really wants. 

You’re already slipping your oversized sleep shirt over your head when he lifts your window. You pause, watching him curl his way into your space. Once he pulls his legs inside he turns to you, his eyes dark, unfathomable, the blue so deep that you feel you’re drowning in it. 

He doesn’t shut the window. Instead, he yanks his clothes off, clattering them against your floor. You smile and a gentle laugh makes its way to him. 

“What did I say about coming in through the window?” you chuckle, already lifting your arms for him. 

He’s against you in a single breath, his warmth seeping its way into your chilled skin. His lips are rough, pressing and lifting, biting and nipping. He’s working you toward your bed and once your knees hit the edge of your mattress, he’s shoving you down. 

You flop against the cold blankets, your legs already spreading for his hips. He’s hot, scaldingly hot, against your hands. Your fingers dip into his hair and you pull him back, earning a low growl and his flashing glare, displeasure written all over his face. 

“Slow down,” you scold, your legs wrapping around his hips, grinding against the hardness you find. 

“The fuck? You goddamn tease. Fucking saying that, then rubbing your wet pussy all over my dick,” Dabi snarls, snatching your wrists and pinning your hands beside your head.

“How do you know it’s wet?” you ask, batting your eyes at his steeled jaw. 

“It fucking better be,” he groans, his teeth sinking into your neck and pressing, hard. 

You gasp at the stimulation and arch for him, testing his hold on your wrists. Grunting, he licks a wet line to your pulse, his hands tightening over yours. “Mmm, why don’t you find out?” you ask, leaning into his lips, loving the contrast of his destroyed and perfect skin. 

He shifts his grip on you, yanking your arms up, pinning your hands above your head. He lifts one of his own hands away once he’s satisfied he’s got a good hold on you. His warm fingers trace down your side, pausing when he gets to the lacy band of your panties. Teasingly, he pulls fabric away from your skin, and lets it snap against your hip. Dabi tips his nose into the curve of your neck and shoulder, taking a deep drag against you. 

You buck your hips, squirming under his weight. “You get lost? My pussy is a little further down.” 

He chuckles darkly, his breath making you shiver. You’re just about to wriggle from him when one long finger eases past your panties and presses into your sopping heat. “Oh,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back. It feels like he’s heated his fingertip, and the skin that’s stroking and thrusting into you is warm, too warm. 

Dabi leans away from your neck, bracing himself above you with his knees, pulling himself into a hunched position. He’s smirking at your awed expression and his teeth glow in the darkness. 

“Like I said doll, you’re already so fucking wet for me. You want more?”

You nod and buck your hips, digging that finger deeper. He groans at your eagerness and you can feel him warming the next digit up, the tip burning against the soft flesh of your inner thighs. 

Once it’s in, he starts to v the two, dragging them along your rippling walls, spreading you open, easing you into his hand. Your slick is sliding down your legs and seeping into the sheets. Still, Dabi keeps on, maintaining that steady stretch. It starts to sting and you shift away, but he releases your wrists, free hand moves to your hip, stilling you. 

You glance up at him, curious. His eyes are hooded, the blue a velvety sapphire. He looks like he’s holding himself back from something. Almost like… like he’s handling you with more care than he’s ever given anything. It’s a strange thought, but the idea of it makes you reach for him, your fingers running down his discolored skin, lingering over the staples and piercings. 

“I’ve gotta stretch you out,” he informs you, his eyes closing behind his trembling eyelids, savoring your gentle caress. 

“Hmm, you that big?” you joke, fully expecting him to react, to silence you with a kiss or another well-timed thrust of his fingers. But he surprises you. He opens his eyes and fixes you with a rough stare, his digits continuing that aching pull. You’re throbbing around him, your arousal easing his passage, his extensions. 

“I don’t want to… hurt-” he stops, his eyes narrowing. With an inaudible sigh, he slides down your body, only halting once he’s face to face with your sleek cunt. His breath heaves against you and you wrap a leg over his back, holding him close. 

Dabi laves his tongue over you, latching onto your pulpy clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hands sink into his hair, curling into the spiky tendrils, urging him to give you more.  

He rewards your needy moans with another lick and he flicks his eyes up to yours, watching you over your shaking curves. 

“I’m going to add another finger,” he tells you, preparing you for another deep stretch. When he enters you almost pull from him, your hips bowing away at the pricking of pain. Sensing your distress, he keeps his lips around your pulsing clit, distracting you with kisses and low blows of air. 

Finally, you can feel yourself loosening. Your feet brace against your bed and you use the leverage to maneuver him deeper. You feel, you feel so…

Dabi, realizing that your cunt is quivering around his intruding digits, shifts closer, his piercings rubbing against your thighs. He’s sloppy now, less controlled. His tongue is circling your clit with furious laps and he lets a canine trace the bud. His fingers are still spreading and he’s found that spongy spot now. He taps against it, teasing you, making you clench and gasp around him. 

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when it seems like all the sensations are too, too, much; it snaps. The coiling in your core pulls free and you’re moaning, so loudly you’re worried your neighbors will hear. His name is falling from your lips at a rapid rate and you can feel his smirk as he lifts his fingers from your cunt. 

Dabi leans away and you shake at the loss of him. He was so warm, so hot against your damp skin and you miss it. He watches you, tucking his fingers into his mouth, lapping the final bits of your release from him. 

“Take off your clothes,” he demands when he’s finished, his hands already dropping to his tented boxers, slipping the elastic down his trim waist. 

You shift to obey, your hands yanking your shirt, bra and soaked panties off of you. You splay under him, indolently admiring the sight that is revealed to you. Oh, you think, unable to contain your small gasp, he is big. 

His cock is long, thick, and curved, and it’s dripping with pre-cum. There’s a crossed set of piercings at the tip of his length and you watch, mesmerized, as a shimmering strand of his arousal catches on the shiny silver, leeching down the smooth length of him. He’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, and that thought makes you shiver with anticipation, and a small sliver of worry.  

Dabi grins wildly at your flushed face. “Like what you see?” 

You nod, and he laughs, fingers snatching your legs, tugging you toward him. You spread for him, so eager and fucking turned on you can’t think straight. His hand lowers to his cock, and he strokes himself as he rechecks your silken cunt, gathering some of the gossamer strands of your arousal on his fingers as he ensures that you’re ready to take him. 

“I’m not going to go slow,” he warns you, his eyes lifting from your folds. 

Gulping and biting your lip, you nod, a shaking exhale escaping your lungs. He shifts himself nearer and begins to press. He’s right, you think, wincing at the sting of his intrusion. He’d stretched you out, licked you until you were leaking all over the bed, but it hurts. 

It takes him a moment to bottom out. Once he does, he groans and gasps above you. “Fuck (Y/N), you’re so damn tight.” 

You flop your head against your pillow and let out a long sigh. He’s holding still as you adjust, and, despite his warning, he’s being careful with you. It makes your chest squeeze. After a few more pained breaths, you can feel a low tingling radiating from your core. It’s like an itch. Experimentally, you cant your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist, cautious of the stapled skin across his lower back. 

Dabi mutters a soft curse and pulls back, his length sliding out of your drenched pussy. When he glides back in, you feel that same tingling sensation. Distantly, you realize it must be those piercings of his, but you’re too overwhelmed by the sensation to process it fully. 

“Hold on,” he groans, his hands bracing beside your head. You lace your arms around his bowed neck, and he starts to pounds into you. It’s a calculated motion, but- ah- he’s taking the extra second between his powerful pulls and thrusts to scrape his pelvis against your pulsating clit, stimulating you, ensuring that dim blaze pleasure within you keeps building. Whimpering, you arch your back, your ankles locking around him, encouraging him to keep going. You feel so good, so full, filled to the brim and practically begging him for more. 

Sloppily, his mismatched lips find yours and he nibbles and kisses at you. The sheer heat of him is making you both slick with sweat. You don’t mind the salty, dampened feeling, if anything, it eases his motions. 

You’re so wet now that he’s gliding easily into you; that piercing of his heating up, and the rapid fire thrusts he’s giving you create a smoldering inside you; like he’s catching you on fire from the inside out. 

His hips stutter and he lifts one hand from the bed, his thumb easily finding your clit. He presses a tight circle across you and you see spots. 

“Come on,” he groans, his voice hoarse, strained, “cum for me (Y/N). Fucking cum on my dick.” 

That desperation in his tone is all that it takes. 

Seconds later, you’re arching and shaking so much that he has to hold you still. He eases into you a final time, his frantic thrusts slowing, spacing out as he enjoys your rippling channel, and the fiery feeling of his own release almost hurtles you over the edge again. You curl against him, panting into his burnt ear, licking at the damaged skin.

Dabi leans heavily against you, one large hand pressing into your lower back, lifting you to him. Once he comes back to himself, he kisses at your shoulder, his warm breath making you shiver. He eases himself out of you and your legs clamp together, holding his cum inside you. It still feels so, so hot, and you’re not ready to let it drip out of you, not yet. 

He untangles himself from you and adjusts some of his staples, wincing against the sting of his marred and clean flesh. Realizing what he’s doing, you slip from the bed and pad into your bathroom. You clean yourself off and grab a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, dampening a clean cloth with the solution. 

“Here. It’s got some peroxide on it,” you tell him as you reenter the bedroom, tossing the rag his way. He catches it easily, dabbing it over himself, careful to not snag it on any of his loose skin. While he’s busy doing that, you snatch up his discarded white shirt and sling it over your head. He looks at you and scoffs. 

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asks, tossing the cloth onto the floor.

“Yours looked better,” you inform him, returning to his side and leaning close. He rolls his eyes at you and you shift into his open lap, straddling his hips. Grinning, you kiss at his neck again, sneaking a few groans from him. Sighing as you give him a particularly hard nip, he bats you off of him, tumbling you down to the sheets. 

“Give me a fucking minute,” he complains, shaking his head as you wrap around him, pulling him into your arms. Once he’s settled onto the bed you turn, pressing your back to his chest, relaxing into the familiar hold. He snorts, amused by your sudden change of mind. 

Dabi lowers his forehead to the back of your head, a small smile rising along his lips. Your breathing evens out and he listens to the sound, trying to memorize each little detail of you.

Yeah, this is it, he tells himself as he drifts off. The rest is just extra. Oh, it’s nice, to be sure, but this, this right here is what he really wants.

Notes: Soft, soft Dabi. I like him like this ꒰ ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱ ˖°  

Tags: @evesmores, @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: April Fools (You Can’t Kid A Kiddo)

Intro: It’s April Fools’ Day and Tony is out to play. Avengers, beware!

Warnings: Bad language, very mild smut…no one gets naked but just in case- NSFW, 18+

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark 

A/N: Happy April Fool’s Day! To celebrate I’m taking us WAY back into the SSB timeline, this takes place at some point just before the AOU timeline.

Word Count: 6k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 Steve’s hands were hot on Katie’s hips, gently gripping her bare skin just above her underwear, the top she was wearing riding up slightly. Her bare thighs were straddling his as he gripped her neck, pulling her down for a searing kiss, grinding up against her, the TV programme they had been watching was long forgotten.

“You know,” Steve pulled back slightly to look at her, one of his hands tangling in the hem of the plaid button down she’d stolen from him to sleep in, as usual, “Captain America doesn’t approve of theft.” “Captain America is an ass hole.” Katie grinned back. “Stevie is my favourite.”

He gave a chuckle and leaned back against the sofa cushions, simply taking in her appearance for a second. “How did I get so lucky?” He asked, reaching up to tuck her long hair behind her ears. She smiled at him, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“What’s brought this on?” Her hands slid up his chest, coming to a stop on his shoulders, fingers gently playing with the collar of his polo shirt.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Just seeing you now and then before with that reporter…reminds me about how fierce…” he pressed a kiss to her lips, “and loyal…”another kiss, “and downright sexy you are when you’re angry.”

“He was a dick.” She mumbled, against his lips, her eyes narrowing slightly as she pulled back to look at him, his fingers gently tracing the outside of her thighs. “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already launched the publicity campaign for the book already.”

“Well its big news.”

“Of course it is, its Harlan Thrombey.” Katie shrugged. “His books are huge!”

“Did you ever get to the bottom of why he’s reached out to SIP to run the next one when he has his own publishing company?” Steve asked and she popped a shoulder in response. “Oh something to do with his Son annoying him and needing to be taught not to take things for granted. I can ask him that in October when I meet him to go over the final edit and discuss the covers and stuff…” She wrinkled her nose as her brow creased into a frown. “But that’s by the by. That ass-hat reporter should have been at the press launch like everyone else, not trying to accost us when we went out for lunch. And what the fuck has whether we’ve set a wedding date got to do with it anyway? Nosey bastard.”

Steve chuckled at her rant and looked at her, his eyes shining. “We haven’t set one though.”

“Yeah well, we’ve kinda had a bit going on.” She pondered. “I mean, there was my extended vacation in Canada…”

“Don’t.” Steve shook his head, swallowing. “It’s not funny. I hate it when you do that.”

Katie chuckled. “I’m sorry, baby.” She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss, he hated it when she made light of her HYDRA ordeal. She pulled away, her hands resting on his shoulders. “Maybe once all this business with the sceptre is sorted we can think about it.” Steve sighed. “It’s certainly taking a little longer than we hoped.”

“Well it’s only the end of March. I’ve always wanted a summer wedding so it’s not…” Katie trailed off and Steve saw her eyes widen and her mouth dropped open as she looked at him. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?” he frowned.

“It’s the 31st March.” She looked at him, swallowing and Steve felt the colour draining from his face.

“Crap.” The reason for their horror was simple. Because, forget Christmas or Thanksgiving, April Fools’ Day was Tony Stark’s favourite time of year, as his long suffering sister could testify. When she was a kid, Tony had done the usual stuff. Flour in her talc, washing up liquid in her shampoo, paper shapes of bugs (never spiders though, he wasn’t that cruel) in lampshades so when she turned the lights on she’d think she had a huge cockroach in there, that type of stuff. But, as she matured, so did the pranks. At one time whilst she had been at the tower for a meeting, JARVIS sent her an alert that someone had slashed her tyres in the carpark. She had sprinted outside to find photos of Slash from ‘Guns and Roses’ struck to the side of her wheels. Another year, Tony had hacked her StarkPhone and Laptop and changed the language to Chinese. Of course she couldn’t read fucking Chinese to change it back. When she found an agent in SHIELD who did and he reversed it for her, within thirty seconds it had flicked over to Russian. And when Natasha fixed that it became Swedish and so on and so on… Steve had also been the butt of a few pranks since he had known Tony. In 2013 he had fallen for the old toothpaste Oreo trick when a box had arrived for him allegedly from the cookie company themselves after Steve had been papped eating a packet. That had nearly made him sick. And then last year there had been the non-stop phone calls asking for Franklin. Every time it was someone different and Steve was getting more and more frustrated as to who exactly Franklin was and why people thought he was on his number. Then, as he and Katie had been on the sofa making out, he’d gotten one last call…

“Leave it…” she urged, her hands on his face turning him back to look at her. He kissed her again, hands sliding up the side of her torso, grinding his crotch down onto hers making her purr with delight as her hands strayed to the buckle of his belt, soft fingers gently skimming his abs as she made to undo it, his tongue tangling ferociously with hers as he gave a soft moan of pleasure… But his phone was going again. Katie sighed as he dropped his head to her chest, mumbling a curse. “Unless that’s a Code Red, you can tell whoever it is to fuck off.” She gave a frustrated growl, her head flopping back against the cushion as Steve reached over and answered it, still led over her. “Rogers.” He spoke sharply. It was another unknown number, but this time it wasn’t an unknown voice that spoke. “Hi this is Frankin!” Tony greeted him and Steve let out a growl of frustration as he realised he had been had. “Have there been,” there was a pause as the inventor laughed, “I’m sorry, have there been any calls for me?” “Tony, I swear to god!” He spat through gritted teeth as the inventor cackled and hung up. “Your brother is a dick.” He looked down at Katie, shaking his head. “Well yeah, I know that.” Katie looked up at her boyfriend. “What did he just do?” “You know those calls I’ve been getting all day, the ones asking for Franklin?” He looked at her and she nodded. “It was him.”

Katie paused and then let out a laugh. “To be fair, that’s a pretty good one.” “I hate him.” Steve mumbled, dropping his head back to her chest.

She chuckled again, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Hey, Stevie, wanna get him back?” “How?” Steve queried, propping himself up on his elbows, looking at her. “Call him,” she grinned, leaning up and nipping at his jaw line softly as he closed his eyes, “leave the phone on the table,” she bucked up under him, wriggling her hips, his trousers feeling uncomfortably tight again, “and let him listen to us make out”

Steve hadn’t done that, because, well frankly the thought of anyone listening to them wasn’t a great turn on in his books, let alone her brother, so Tony had gone another year of getting away with it.

Simply put, Tony was king of the pranks, and this year he had the entire team at the tower to torment. 

“We should warn the others.” Steve looked at Katie, and with a sigh she nodded. She untangled herself from him and straightened the legs on her denim shorts.

“JARVIS?” She asked.

“Yes Miss Stark.” “Where are the rest of the team?”

“Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the Common Room. Thor is in his quarters as is Mr Stark and Dr Banner is in the Lab.”

“I’ll cover Nat, Clint and Banner.” Steve nodded. “You wanna go see Thor?”

Katie nodded. “Sure, I’ll pop down and see him now. Then we should probably go for a look around, see if we can spot if he’s set anything up.” Katie climbed off his lap and Steve straightened his pants slightly before giving her a quick kiss and heading towards the stairs whereas Katie made her towards the hidden elevator, selecting the right floor. Thor and Clint shared one of the highest floors in the tower, both preferring to be higher up, closer to the roof but it was still below theirs. Exiting the elevator, she turned left and knocked on the door.

“Little Stark?” Thor answered and stepped back. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” “It’s not strictly pleasure I’m afraid Thor…” Katie sighed “I’m here with a warning.” “A warning?” he frowned.

“Yeah, you got five minutes? It’s gonna take some explanation.”

***** Tony was giggling to himself as he put the final touches to the last of his pranks, before closing the door to the Lab and heading back to his floor. It was ridiculously early in the morning, but needs must. There was no way he could have set this all up the previous evening because Kiddo and Spangles would most likely have done some kind of recon mission before they went to bed.

So, as the saying goes, the bird catches the worm and all that. Fuck Killian and his second mouse bullshit.

“What have you been doing?” Pepper mumbled to him as he walked back into their dark bedroom.

“Nothing.” He answered, with a grin, leaning down to give her a peck.

“Bullshit.” Pepper mumbled against his lips. “It’s April Fools’ Day…” “Is it?” he said, innocently and she rolled her eyes. “JARVIS?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Hey buddy, I need you to set up an alert for me for today. If anyone goes into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my equipment, I wanna know about it.”

“Of course Sir.”

Tony grinned as he headed into the bathroom for a shower. “Avengers, assemble!” 

Prank 1.

Steve was the first victim. He and Katie were making their way, cautiously, down to the large meeting room where they were all due to congregate to look over the plans of an abandoned British prison they suspected of being a HYDRA base. They made sure to check round each corner before they walked round it, checking up high, low, everywhere.

But there was no avoiding this prank.

Steve pressed his palm to the Biometric Pad on the meeting room door and the pair of them gave a loud yell and a jump as their ears were assaulted by a sudden chorus.

“Who’s strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right, night and day?”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Steve groaned as he pulled open the door, the song echoing through the PA system.

“Who will campaign door to door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America? From Hoboken to Spokane? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Clint and Natasha were stood, poised at the table, both wearing identical looks of astonishment on their faces. They turned to Katie and Steve as they walked into the room, the song still playing.

“We can’t ignore there’s a threat and a war we must win! Who’ll hang a noose on the goose-stepping goons from Berlin?”

“I’m assuming this means Cap is the first of us to fall victim to Stark?” Clint asked, his lips quirking into a smile.

“Who will indeed lead the call for America? Who’ll rise or fall, give his all, for America?”

“Please tell me it isn’t going to go through a full rendition.” Steve sighed, dropping into a chair.

“Who’s here to prove that we can? The Star Spangled Man with a plan!”

Silence. The four of them waited with bated breath, but thankfully it had stopped.

“Just the first two verses.” Katie flopped down next to him. “Suppose we should be grateful.” “Kiddo, you’re as much of a sneak as Tony.” Clint looked at her, as Thor walked into the room. “How come you’ve never managed to get him back?”

“He’s too smart.” She sighed. “I’ve tried and tried before. It doesn’t help that he has JARVIS either, watch this…JARVIS?”

“Yes Miss Stark?”

“Has my brother got an alert going for you to warn him if we try and prank him?” “I couldn’t possibly comment, Miss Stark, on whether or not your brother has an alert set up to warn him if any of you attempt to tamper with any of his equipment.”

Normally, Katie would chuckle at the AI’s tone but she was too frustrated with her brother and the seeming lack of loopholes in any of his instructions she could exploit. She leaned back in her chair and gave a huff “See?”

“I could just shock him with some lightning?” Thor suggested

“Think that’s a little harsh.” Steve shook his head. 

“See if you still think that by the end of the day when every time you open a door that song starts.” Natasha looked at him.

“What, you think…” Steve looked at her and then gave a groan. “Too much to hope that it would just be the one door isn’t it?”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office, cackled. “Of course it isn’t just one door, Spangles!” _______

Prank 2.

Bruce was sincerely hoping that whatever inevitable prank Tony was going to pull on him that the Billionaire had been sensible enough not to shock him so far that the Hulk erupted. Bruce had a pretty good hold on him, so he wasn’t too worried but still, you never know.

The mild mannered scientist made it to his lab in one piece, opened the door and then stopped dead.

In front of him on the floor, for about two metres square were cups of water. And they were positioned that close together it left no space for him to step over in any direction without them spilling all over the floor.

Which meant he couldn’t get into the room.

Had it been anyone else, they would probably have simply kicked the cups over, but not Bruce. He was always paranoid about the liquid seeping through the floors and down onto the machinery which looked after the Iron Legion. 

So if he was going to get into the lab, he was going to have to move them one cup at a time. 

“Damned you, Tony!” He gave a loud, exasperated sigh. “JARVIS? I need a bucket…”

_______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office, cackled. “Good luck finding one, Brucey.”

_______

Prank 3.

“I don’t think there’s much else to go on.” Steve sighed as the rest of the team finished looking over the plans “We need to get out there and do a recon really.”

“We prepping for another mission then, Cap?” Clint looked at him. Steve took a deep breath and nodded.

“I don’t think we have an alternative.” 

“Okay, well, if we get everything ready we can go at first light tomorrow.” Natasha suggested “I’ll get Hill onto the British Authorities, let them know we’re planning on coming.” With that an alert sounded on Katie’s phone and she looked down at it. “I gotta go take a conference call but I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Steve nodded to her as she stood up and left the room. She made it to her office, safely and swung the door open, pausing just to make sure nothing fell from the door frame. She darted through, took a look round and everything seemed to be in order.

Suspecting Tony of most likely sabotaging her computer or screen, Katie sat down on her chair and a loud horn sounded causing her to scream. Involuntarily, her entire body jumped, and her chair toppled backwards. She went with it, arms and legs flailing and hit the floor with a crash.

After taking a moment to sort herself out she stood up, and looked at the bottom of her chair. There was an air horn strapped to the main leg which mean as soon as she had sat down, it would push the handle causing it to sound.

“I know you’re watching this you fucker!” She yelled, spinning round to the CCTV camera and flicking it off. “I hate you!”

_____ Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office, cackled. “Feeling horny, Kiddo?”

_______

Prank 4.

Given that there was nothing else to do, Natasha decided to head to the gym, as she did every weekday morning, to practice Pilates. It was a routine she tried not to break as it helped her keep supple and relax. Katie sometimes joined her, and surprisingly so did Steve. He said it helped keep his mind clear. 

She knew that the routine made her an easy target for one of Stark’s pranks, but she was damned if he was going to catch her out. She was one of the world’s best spies, no way was he going to get her with some stupid, childish trick.

She entered the room and glanced up and around, checking the corners, you name it. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out at her, and even if they did, she’d floor them- more fool you, Stark- she leaned up against the bench and stretched her legs out.

“Who’s strong and brave here to save the American Way? Who vows to fight like a man for what’s right, night and day?”

Natasha spun to see Steve shaking his head as he made his way into the room in his gym gear

“You joining me or hitting the bag?” She asked as they both tried to ignore the song as it continued ringing from the speakers.

“Joining you if that’s okay?” he said. “I went for a run this morning so…” “Sure.” She nodded, and as the song finally stopped they made their way to the store cupboards, picking out their mats. Natasha picked her favoured one, and lay it down on the floor.

As soon as she stepped on it there was a loud popping noise, like a gun going off, and she jumped backwards, dropping to the floor by instinct. 

“Nat,” Steve soothed, a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s okay, no one’s shooting.” Angrily, Natasha stood up and stalked over to the mat. With a furious movement, she reached down and pulled it up off the floor and set about examining it.

“Bastard!” She exclaimed, slipping her hand into a small, almost invisible hole on the underside. She pulled out a tiny little firecracker, the type that kids used to throw on the floor in front of someone to make a loud bag. “He’s filled my mat with these!” 

______

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office cackled. “Even Super Spies get fooled, Romanoff.”

_______

Prank 5 and 6.

Later that day the team met in the common room for lunch. Steve already had a headache from that damned song following him every time he opened a door, Katie was sporting quite a sore elbow after falling harshly on the floor, Bruce was pissed as it had taken him a good hour to get rid of the cups of water, and Natasha was seething at the fact she’d been caught out too.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with it for your entire life.” Clint said to Katie as he opened the fridge, pulling out a can of his favoured Dr Pepper. He grabbed a glass and then went to the dispenser for some ice, the way he always liked his soda, but nothing happened when he pressed the button.

“What the...” Clint frowned as he opened the freezer compartment and reached into the dispenser tray. After rummaging a little he stopped, and pulled something out before he gave a huge bellow of laughter. He turned, holding up the item and Steve glanced over to see it was a Tupperware tub that was full of ice, in the middle of which was frozen a Captain America action figure. There was a pause before the rest of the team fell about laughing and Steve groaned, shaking his head.

“Why has he picked on me two times?” he looked at Katie who gave a shrug.

“You know what he’s like, annoying you is his favourite pass-time.”

“You wanna go back in the freezer, Cap, or in the sink to deforst?” Clint asked and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I took a long enough nap in the cold, thanks.”

Clint tossed the offending item into the sink and then reached for some ice cubes before he walked over to where the rest of the team were sat on the sofas with various lunch items on the coffee table. He poured the soda into the glass and set it on the table, still chuckling.

“You can stop looking so smug.” Katie turned to him. “He’ll get you eventually, you too Thor, there’s no way he hasn’t set one up for you both.” “I am mighty, Little Stark.” Thor grinned, nursing a plate of his favoured chocolate and sugar covered strawberries he had snaffled from a tray in the fridge. “It will take more than…” “SHIT!” Clint exclaimed, and with a loud yell they all jumped back as the soda in his glass was exploding over the top with such veracity it was showering them all in the sticky drink. As Steve and Natasha headed to grab some paper towels, Katie marched over to the freezer and yanked out the ice dispenser tray.

“He’s put fucking Mentos in the ice cubes!” She groaned with a shake of her head. “Jesus Christ!” “You gotta hand it to him.” Bruce sighed, wiping his glasses off on his shirt. “This is maximum effort.”

“Oh, I’d like to hand it to him,” Katie mumbled, “with my fist closed.” Thor gave a chuckle and popped a strawberry in his mouth, before he gave a grimace, gagged and spat it back out onto the plate.

“That’s-” he stood up, nearly pushing the coffee table over in his attempt to get to the sink. 

Katie watched him as he grabbed a glass of water and filled it from the tap. 

“What…” Natasha looked at Bruce who was examining a piece of the fruit, holding it in front of his nose.

“Salt.” Thor mumbled as he rinsed his mouth out. “It isn’t sugar, its salt. He put salt on my Chocolate Sugar Fruit!”

_____

Tony, watching the events unfold on the display in the safety of his office, cackled. “Ice Ice baby… no need to be so salty.”

_______

*******

“We have to get him back.” Natasha grumbled as they all sat in Katie and Steve’s apartment, having retreated to the relative safety as their living quarters were the one place there was no CCTV, and Katie had the authority to banish JARVIS from earwigging. (Tony had learnt that lesson one day after hearing something he really didn’t want to hear…)

“Believe me I’ve tried.” Katie sighed “And you heard J before, anyone tampers with his equipment and…” She stopped dead. That was it. That was the loophole. With a smirk she looked round the assembled faces. Steve arched an eyebrow at her, he knew that look very well.

“What you thinking?” He asked and she grinned at them all.

“I have an idea…”

They listened attentively, Clint and Natasha sharing a grin as she outlined her plan whilst Thor slapped his thigh with glee. Steve leaned back in his chair and looked at Banner who was also smiling ear to ear.

“That might just work.” Bruce nodded. “It’s a pretty good loophole, and we have the stuff in the lab so…” “I’ll need a distraction.” Katie mused, “something that’s gonna draw Tony out of his office for long enough for me to do it but…” “That’s easy.” Thor nodded. “I’m sure I can cause a good deal of noise in the Training Facility, break a few things with my hammer.”

“Fry something.” Steve looked around. “If you do that then JARVIS won’t be able to fix it remotely, Tony’s gonna have to get his hands dirty.”

“You all know what you’re doing?” Katie grinned as everyone nodded. “Okay, Avengers, let’s do this.“

Operation Payback.

Tony heard the bang seconds before JARVIS spoke

“Mr Stark.”

“What the hell was that?”

“There’s been an incident in the Training Suite.”

“Course there has.” Tony rolled his eyes in exasperation at how stupid they thought he was. He wasn’t falling for a distraction like that. “Where is everyone?” “Miss Stark, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton are in the shooting range.” JARVIS informed him. Doctor Banner was in his lab, although it appears he is now making his way down to the Training Facility to find out what’s going on. Captain Rogers is already there as is Thor.”

“What’s the incident?”

“It appears Thor has struck the speakers and the access pad with a bolt of lightning.” JARVIS replied. “I’m currently assessing the damage but as a result he is locked in. And he isn’t happy.” Okay, so maybe this was serious….

Tony gave an exasperated groan and pushed his chair from his desk. “Suppose I best go see if I can help. Remember what I said, anyone comes in here and tampers with my equipment…” “Of course, Sir.”

When Tony arrived, Thor was kicking the door to the training facility, waving his hammer irately.

“Thor!” Steve was stood by the glass, attempting to calm him down. “Don’t buddy, we’ll get you out of there.” “I can get myself out.” Thor blazed, raising his hand and Tony blanched at the fact Thor was threatening to send his hammer straight through the wall. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the walls and glass to get damaged but they’d only just had it replaced after Steve and Thor had been practicing using Steve’s shield and Mjolnir to cause an outwards blasting shockwave. It had taken down two walls and completely decimated a bank of computers in the lab on the other side of the floor.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, and Steve spun to him shooting him a glare.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on!” Thor roared. “That infernal song!”

His hammer crackled ominously again and Tony looked back to Steve.

“He was fed up of hearing Star Spangled Man With A Plan ringing out every goddamned time I opened a door.” Steve folded his arms. “So he lost his temper. And I can’t say I blame him.” “We’ve talked about this.” Tony looked at Thor. “You need to use your words, buddy!” “Words, I’ll give you more than words, Stark!” Thor roared. “Now get me out of here!”

“JARVIS?” Tony asked, looking at the pad on the door. “Damage report?”

“The Circuit is completely fried, Sir.” JARVIS replied. “I cannot access or override, you will need to do it manually.”

“Great.” Tony mumbled. “Let me just go get my tools from the lab.” Mumbling to himself, he set off down the corridor and once he was gone, Thor grinned and tossed his hammer in the air as he gave Steve and Banner the thumbs up before he caught it expertly again in his right hand.

“Good job!” Steve nodded with a smile as he pulled his phone out and dialled Katie quickly. “You’re up.” 

****

It took Tony roughly thirty minutes to replace the wires and unlock the door. Thor stormed out, pushed him harshly in the chest before he left down the corridor.

“Guess they don’t have April Fools’ Day on Asgard.” Tony mumbled, rubbing at the front of his shirt.

“To be honest, Tony, it’s pretty annoying.” Bruce sighed. “Can you turn it off now? I mean its almost two in the afternoon.” “Yeah I suppose.” Tony sighed, before he grinned. “Tt was a pretty good one though, right.” “Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, his hands falling to his belt buckle. Tony flashed him a grin and a shrug before he gathered up his tools and made his way back down the corridor.

“JAR?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Turn off ‘Prank Spangles’ will you, before anyone else breaks more of my tower.”

“Right away, Sir.” “And I’m assuming from the lack of contact no one’s been in my office or anywhere else tampering with my equipment?” “That’s correct, Sir.” “Today has been a good day.” Tony grinned to himself.

Once he was back in his office he sat down at his chair, and went through his emails quickly. He absentmindedly scratched at his beard, which felt a little dry to be honest. But he hadn’t oiled it since that morning. Reaching into his drawer he grabbed the small bottle, tipped a good amount onto his hand and spread it across the expertly groomed whiskers before he continued with his work. It took him a few hours but he cleared his inbox and then decided it was time to face the music. Heading down to the common room he found the rest of the team lounging in front of the TV. They were watching Kitchen Nightmares. 

“S’up Kids?” he asked and none of them looked at him. “Okay, alright, I know, sorry if I pranked you but if I buy takeout will that make you forgive me?”

No answer.

“Oh come on!” Tony crossed the room, sinking into a spare arm chair. “I’ll get Thai.”

The team exchanged glances before Bruce gave a sigh. He was always the one to cave first, the mild mannered Scientist found it hard to stay outwardly angry, which was ironic when anyone thought about it.

“To be fair, that trick with the water was pretty clever.”

“Yeah, and I suppose the salt strawberries were a little amusing.” Thor looked at Katie.

She shrugged, her feet resting in Steve’s lap as he was gently running his fingers up and down her calf.

“Lighten up, Kiddo.”  Tony sighed, flopping onto an arm chair.  

“Payback’s a bitch, and so are you.”  She responded simply, still not looking at him.

“You’ve never managed to get me back yet.” Tony snorted.

At that point he noticed Natasha and Clint exchanging smirks. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” Clint shook his head.

“I like your beard” Thor suddenly grinned. “I have always admired how you keep it so neat and groomed. Maybe I should trim mine the same way.” Tony frowned. “Oh is this the part where you pin me down and shave it?” He rolled his eyes. “You know I can call my suit to me in like five seconds flat.” “We know.” Steve replied, looking at him and Tony’s frown deepened. The way the Captain’s blue eyes were shining with mirth made him uncomfortable.

He looked round as six pairs of eyes were all completely focussed on him now before Katie cracked up laughing.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…I can’t hold…” her laughter grew more and more as she threw her head back against the arm of the sofa “You look ridiculous!” Tony frowned and without a word stood up from the chair and made his way to the bar to glance in the mirrored surface between the shelves.

Oh. Holy. Jesus.

His goatee. His beautiful goatee…was blonde.

He spun round and the rest of the guys in the room cracked up laughing. Steve had his head thrown back, right hand clutching at his chest as Katie wiped tears from her face whilst Natasha doubled over on her seat. Besides her Clint slapped his thigh, his chuckles loud.

“What…how…” Tony spluttered, looking again at his reflection, before he glared back at the group.

“Slipped a little peroxide in your beard oil.” Katie managed to stutter between laughs, Thor’s loud rumbles continued, punctuated every now and then by a snort from Banner.

“JARVIS!” Tony roared “I told you to tell me if anyone went into my office, or the garage, or anywhere in the tower messing with my stuff…” “I take zero responsibility for this, Sir” The AI responded. “And I believe your instruction was to alert you if anyone entered your office or the garage or anywhere in the tower and messed with your equipment. Technically Miss Stark didn’t touch your equipment, only your Male grooming product. I believe they exploited a loophole.” That made the group laugh even harder as Tony went bright red, spluttering obscenities at JARVIS. Eventually he calmed down and sighed, before he glanced at his sister.

“You know I’m almost proud…” he said, shaking his head. “Almost…”

Katie gave him a wink in response. “You know what they say…you can’t kid a kidder, or in this case Kiddo…”

Tony gave a groan which turned into a resigned chuckle. He could always dye it back. “Good job, I’m impressed.” He mused, before he reached for some ice from the bucket on the bar and sighed. “Empty.”

“Yeah, don’t bother with the stuff in the dispenser.” Clint scoffed and Tony grinned.

“Wasn’t gonna, Legolass.” He grabbed the metal ice bucket and stepped from behind the bar.

“Oh, that reminds me, nice touch with the ice block.” Steve rolled his eyes and Tony looked at him, frowning.

“What?”

“The scale model Capsicle in the ice dispenser-“

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Old Man.” Tony shook his head. “Are you going senile?”

Steve took a deep breath and gave an exasperated sigh. “You don’t need to pretend anymore Tony.”

“Hey, I’m not.” Tony held his spare hand up. “That, as amusing as it was to watch, was not me. Although I’m kinda pissed I didn’t think of it.”

“It wasn’t you?” Steve frowned.

“Nope. I am not Spartacus.”

“Then who…” Steve started to ask but trailed off as he felt Katie’s legs shift a little in his lap. He turned to see her exchange a glance with Thor, biting her lip and then he realised exactly who was responsible. “Oh you are…”

“It was his idea!” Katie pointed at Thor as Steve glared at her.

“Yes, it was Captain.” Thor grinned and Steve turned his attention to the god. “When I found out what this whole Fools Day was about, I decided that I wanted to pull a prank of my own. Little Stark came up with that one. And, I must say, it was highly entertaining.”

Tony chuckled and clapped Steve on his shoulder from behind the couch as he headed off to find ice. “This has definitely been a good day.”

Steve continued to look at Katie, eyes narrowed as she stared back, her eyes twinkling. “Don’t look at me like that, Soldier.”

“Oh, and how am I looking at you?”

“Like you’re utterly and thoroughly disappointed in me.”

“I am utterly and thoroughly disappointed in you.” His eyes followed her as she shifted from where she’d been sprawled across the sofa, so she was sat upright. She sidled up closer to him, and leaned over.

“We’ll call it even for the plastic spider I found in the shower tray.” She whispered into his ear and Steve stiffened a little, before he swallowed and turned to look at her.

“Sorry?” He offered and she snorted, shaking her head. “To be honest, Doll, I didn’t think you’d noticed given your lack of reaction to it this morning.”

“Yeah, well, I grew up with Tony. You gotta try much harder than that to catch me out.”

“Message received, understood and duly noted for next year.” Steve muttered, his eyes flashing cheekily before he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “I’ll absolutely learn how to Kid a Kiddo.”

“Don’t count on it, Soldier.” She smirked as he pulled back, and he chuckled, wrapping his arm round her and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her head.

All in all, Tony was right. It hadn’t been a bad day.

[tk-writer]

Jealous. [Haikyuu!! - Tsukkiyama]

Tsukishima fights an intense ler mood at practice one day when he sees Yamaguchi and Nishinoya messing around.

Word count: 2693

hi there! i stole this idea from That One Scene in the baseball anime Ookiku Furikabutte (Big Windup!) i’d link it here but of course i can’t find the post with the video kajsfhajks. anyway, here’s tsukishima with a Phat(™) ass ler mood & cute boi Yamaguchi as tribute. enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tsukishima could barely focus during practice that day, and it was all Yamaguchi’s fault.

The blonde barely uttered a word that afternoon, even when his fellow teammates addressed him directly. They figured he was finally taking the game seriously for once, not wanting to get left behind as the rest of them soared to greater heights. But in truth, volleyball was the furthest thing from his mind.

His thoughts - and his heart - were set on his childhood best friend, whose antics that day made it impossible to focus on read blocking, on spiking, on anything. All because of that stupidly infectious laugh of his.

While Tsukishima was taking a quick break, his steely eyes fixated on his freckled friend as he got ready for another round of serving practice. Lately he'd been flopping most of his jump floats, so today he had dedicated almost all of his time to perfecting them. He was working harder than almost anyone else, which earned him Tsukishima’s respect even though he never said it aloud.

However, instead of heading to the court to take his place, Tsukishima saw him walk towards Nishinoya with cheeks ablaze. His ears perked up as he caught the tail end of their conversation, finding it difficult to pull his attention elsewhere.

“Hey, uh… Nishinoya?”

“What's up?”

“Can you… umm… do ‘it’ again?”

Nishinoya tilted his head in confusion, but beamed with joy when he realized what Yamaguchi was asking.

“Ohh, you want me to do ‘it’ to help you relax?”

“Uhm, y... yes, please!”

“Alrighty! Lift up your arms! Hehehe…”

Tsukishima had a gut feeling about what was coming next and turned away before anyone could notice the blush creeping across his own cheeks. 

A couple seconds passed before an all-too familiar laugh rang out through the gymnasium, capturing the attention of all but one blonde haired blocker who refused to look. An unfamiliar emotion swirled in the pit of his stomach, one he couldn't put a name to until much later when the two of them were alone.

“-Aheeheehaha! Gaaaaah!”

“Stop moving around so much! You’re making it difficult!”

“I cahahahahan’t!!”

Their fun was soon interrupted by the team captain, who was less than pleased to see his juniors messing around once again. As soon as the two underclassmen heard Daichi’s stern voice yelling at them from the court, they froze up and stood at attention.

“Stop fooling around you two! Yamaguchi, get out here and serve already!”

“Right! Sorry!!”

The pinch server regained what composure he could before racing out to the court while Nishinoya zoomed over to the other side. Tsukishima watched in disbelief as his friend took a deep breath, got a running start, and then successfully completed a perfect jump float, one that even Nishinoya couldn’t receive. 

So that ‘it’ thing really worked, huh? He tried his best to fight the smile creeping across his face, kicking himself mentally for being so soft. Seeing that unfold before him was so lame, so ridiculous, so undeniably and indisputably...

…adorable.

Nishinoya ran up and gave his teammate a double high five, then poked him in the ribs to throw him off. Yamaguchi doubled over, clutching his sides while his high pitched laughter floated through the air. 

Tsukishima pretended not to notice.

He saw it happen again later, while Yamaguchi was sitting next to Suga on the bench during break. The third year was much more subtle about it, doing sneaky things like poking his side repeatedly and whispering mean teases in his ear. Tsukishima could make out a few words here and there scattered in between Yamaguchi’s tittered giggles. The first year was doing his best to stay quiet, clamping a hand over his mouth while he squirmed in place, probably to save himself the embarrassment. 

Tsukishima glanced over his shoulder, trying not to make it too obvious he was watching.

“...does it tickle here?”

“Pfffft, bahahaha!”

“...here… or what about here…?”

“Eheheheehee! Sugaaaa!”

He couldn’t tell which was worse. Suga’s soft, yet sadistic teasing, or Yamaguchi’s breathless begging. Watching his nose scrunch up, bunching the scattered freckles across his face together while he threw back his head and finally erupted into full blown belly laughs. It was all too much for the middle blocker. In his head, a single sentence repeated itself over and over again like a mantra for the rest of his time at practice, one he couldn’t ignore no matter how much he tried to repress it:

I should be the one getting him.

~~~~~

When the sun began to dip under the horizon, the two of them left the gymnasium together and walked side by side as they headed home, like they always did after practice. Tsukishima was as quiet as ever, still mulling to himself while Yamaguchi tried making small talk. He didn’t really register what he was saying, as his mind was still replaying the scenes from earlier. He was so deep in thought that he barely heard his friend calling his name.

“...Tsukki? Earth to Tsukki! Helloooooo?”

The blonde perked up, finally coming back to reality. Yamaguchi was staring at him with his big, brown eyes, like a puppy dog seeking attention from its master. He thought about the way he squeezed them shut when Nishinoya tickled his sides, and then how sweet his giggles sounded when Suga was poking him. He thought about how much he wanted to hear him laugh like that again, right here, right now.

He couldn’t deny it any longer. He really, really wanted to tickle Yamaguchi.

Without saying a word, Tsukishima slapped the back of his neck and began to give him gentle squeezes. 

“Aaaaaah! Tsukkiiiii!”

Yamaguchi’s reaction was as predictable as always. He raised his arms to try and grab Tsukki’s hands, leaving his midsection wide open for an attack. The middle blocker jabbed into his sides, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly in amusement while Yamaguchi tried to fight the tickles from both ends. It was funny how much those subtle touches affected him. No wonder everyone else on the team enjoyed teasing him so much.

“Are you still spending the night tonight?” He asked, keeping a straight face as he feigned ignorance to Yamaguchi’s suffering.

“Ahahaha! I already said yeahahahaha!”

He gave him a few more rapid squeezes before letting him go. Yamaguchi let out a few more breathy laughs, then immediately started to whine, but it went unnoticed by a brooding Tsukki. He was still unsatisfied, but this little taste was enough to blow him over until they reached his house. Maybe then he’d feel a bit more bold.

~~~~~

As soon as they got back to Tsukishima’s place, they kicked off their shoes and went straight for the couch to watch some stupid TV shows. It was a Friday night, and they basically had the place to themselves since the rest of his family was out of town. Yamaguchi sat on one end of the couch, shoving fistfuls of cheese-itz into his mouth while Tsukishima sat on the other end, looking bored as ever as some dumb cartoon episode played on the screen. In reality, he was using all of his willpower to fight back his embarrassing little urge. His fingers twitched in place, tapping against the arm of the couch incessantly as if relieving pent up energy.

“Hey,” he said after an hour or so of silence.

“Yeah?” Yamaguchi mumbled with a mouthful of cheese.

“What was up with that whole ‘it’ thing earlier,” he asked casually, hoping his curiosity wouldn’t betray him.

“Huh?” Yamaguchi gulped down his cheesy snack. “Oh! You mean…”

He trailed off, the end of his sentence barely audible. Tsukishima noticed a pinkish hue forming on his cheeks as his gaze fell to the floor. It complimented his freckles quite nicely. God, why did he have to be so cute?

“Uh, well… Nishinoya suggested it ‘cause I kept getting nervous, and he said it could help me relax…”

“Uh huh. Did it work?”

“Actually, yeah! I felt like it helped loosen me up.”

“Uh huh.”

There was a brief moment of awkward silence that fell between them before Yamaguchi spoke up again.

“Uh, why do you ask?”

“You know,” Tsukishima said, leaning over his friend who was sprawled out across the cushions. “You can ask me. If you ever want ‘it’.”

“Wha, what?!”

Tsukki grabbed both of his wrists and held them down firmly, with little resistance from the pinch server who stared at him with a dumbfounded look, as if he hadn’t expected this to happen at all. He donned his most convincing poker face, hoping it was enough to mask his nervousness. His heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was climbing up his throat. There was no going back now.

“Tsukki…? What, what are you doing?!”

“Do you like it?”

“...Huh? Like what?”

Tsukki flashed a knowing smirk before he asked his next question.

“Do you like being tickled?”

There it was. He managed to spit it out, after all, as much as he hated saying that word. It looked like it bothered Yamaguchi just as much, who was already writhing beneath him.

“Whahahat?! Me? Wh, why do you ask?!”

He was giving  himself away with his nervous laughter and skittish babbling. Tsukishima hadn’t touched him at all, and he was already so worked up. His smirk turned into a grin as he shuffled the trapped wrists into one hand and hovered the other over his head. 

He was really going to enjoy this.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Yamaguchi pulled weakly at his trapped arms, not really trying to get away but not surrendering either. He wiggled with what little room he had, and the sight made Tsukishima even more eager to get started. He noticed that the hem of his shirt had ridden up, exposing a bit of his belly button, and snuck his hand underneath so that it rested against his bare skin. It felt warm in his palms, and it twitched a lot just from the slight movement of his hand.

“Ehehehe, Tsukki!! Wait!!”

“Not gonna answer? Mmmk.”

Unable to hold out any longer, Tsukishima wisped the tips of his fingers against Yamaguchi’s stomach. His skin was soft to touch and quivered like jello. The freckly-faced boy squealed loudly, arching his back and pushing himself further into Tsukishima’s hand. The blonde couldn’t help but smile; only he knew how weak his friend was to light tickles, and he was going to exploit that fact for as long as he could.

“Tsukeeheeheehee!! Wahahahahit!!”

“It's really obvious that you like it,” Tsukishima stated matter-of-factly, continuing to spider in a circular motion around his navel. “You were so shy about asking, and you never said stop.” He moved towards his side, raking the entire length of his waist as Yamaguchi shrieked, squirmed, and protested. His torso bounced up and down like he was on a trampoline, contorting himself as much as he could with what little room he had to move. He accidentally brushed against his hip and remembered how bad it was there once Yamaguchi shrieked in ticklish agony.

“Ahahahaha, nghhhh, noHOHOHO NOT THEHEHERE!!”

“Not where? Here? You mean your hips? You’re really weak there, aren’t you?”

Tsukishima proved himself by tickling that hyper-sensitive area, putting his thumb in the crease of his thigh while his other four fingers dug into the side of his hip. Yamaguchi bucked his hips in response, involuntarily trying to shake him off but instead pushing himself further into the blonde’s grip once again. His laughter was bubbly and wild, jumping through multiple octaves until he lost his energy and fell into silent laughter. That’s when Tsukishima knew he was getting to him. He eased up, still stroking the waist of his shorts but at a much slower pace so he could catch his breath.

“Such a big reaction from a little touch,” he whispered, ghosting his fingers up his chest until they reached his collarbones. He fluttered against them with a feather-light touch, relishing Yamaguchi’s small squeaks and flinches. He climbed further, skittering the backs of his nails against his neck while the pinch server shook his head from side to side. He tried fighting back his giggles, but they burst through despite his best efforts.

“NgghhaahAHAHAHAHA! Pleeeeease! Tsukeeheehee!”

Tsukishima moved up to his ears, jumping from one to the other as he nearly tickled his friend to hysterics. Every time he turned his head, he’d just go to the other, making it impossible to shake him off. Yamaguchi was unable to form words, once again succumbing to silent laughter. 

“What’s wrong? Can’t talk? Maybe this will help,” Tsuki poked one of his underarms and nearly got bucked off the couch from how violently Yamaguchi thrashed. After grounding himself a bit more steadily, he focused his efforts on this new spot, poking the center of his pit again and again while his friend convulsed beneath him. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he tried hiding his face in one arm, perhaps from shyness or embarrassment. That just made Tsukki poke his other armpit, which elicited another goofy cackle from the trapped server.

He kept it up for several more minutes until Yamaguchi’s face was bright red and his giggles turned into wheezes. Tsukki gave him a few seconds of respite, allowing him to catch his breath before things got too intense. He put his hand on his stomach again and lazily traced random patterns into his trembling skin.

“I don't think it's lame, by the way,” he said, tracing a line from one side to the other while the brunette snickered from the light touch. “You can ask me whenever.”

“Aheeheehee… aha! ...I… I cahahan?”

“Yeah. Just don't be weird about it,” Tsukishima released him at long last, taking a moment to enjoy the blushing, disheveled sight that was Yamaguchi. The guy had curled himself into a ball in case Tsukishima decided to attack again and was still giggling, even now when Tsukki was at least a foot away.

“So… you don’t think I’m lame?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned about what his friend thought of him. The blonde shrugged his shoulders, acting nonchalant while his insides fluttered like butterflies.

“Nah. You’re a pretty cool guy. I guess.”

Yamaguchi sounded a bit hoarse, so Tsukki went to the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water. He chugged it down so fast he started coughing, and Tsukki rubbed circles in his back until he was breathing normally again. 

“Wait… why were you watching me so much at practice?” the brunette suddenly asked while staring at his friend, who looked quite taken aback from the unexpected question.

“I wasn’t. I just…”

“Hold on! You were jealous, weren’t you? Did you wanna do ‘it’ to me at practice? Did ya? Did ya?” Yamaguchi poked at his friend’s ribs, moreso to annoy him than get a reaction, and luckily the blonde was able to stifle his own vocalization. He slapped away his hand and furrowed his brows in a fake display of annoyance.

“Stop. And how bold of you to assume I was focusing all my attention on you, dummy.”

Seeing him don a shit-eating grin only spurred Tsukki’s irritation on. He felt his own cheeks burn with humiliation now that he’d been discovered. It wasn’t often that Yamaguchi got the best of him, and when he did, he made sure to rub it in as much as he could. 

“Awww, Tsukki!! If you wanna tickle me that bad, you can just ask too!”

“Shut up. And don’t say that. It’s embarrassing. For you, I mean.”

“Hehe, what's the matter Tsukki? Can't say it? You can't say t-EHEHEHEHEE NOOOOOO! Please no I'm sohahahahree!!!”

Yamaguchi spluttered out pleas for mercy through more wild laughter as Tsukki latched onto his sides, tickling with much more ferocity than before. They stayed there for a while longer, just enjoying their closeness now that both of their little secrets were out in the open. Yamaguchi’s laugh rang out like musical notes, filling the house with a wonderful, heartwarming sound.

And for once, Tsukki actually laughed along with him.

[jobrookekarev]

New Roommates

Chapter One of One

Words: 1107

Summary: Jo comes home to see that Levi has invited Helm to stay with them and reluctantly agrees.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Nico Kim/Levi Schmitt (Mentioned), Jo Wilson & Levi Schmitt (Friendship), Levi Schmitt & Taryn Helm (Friendship).

Characters: Jo Wilson, Levi Schmitt, and Taryn Helm.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Friendship, Fluff, Roommates, Pizza, Jo makes them all go to therapy, 

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

……………………………………………………………………

“You what?!” Jo whisper yelled at Levi.

She had gotten home 20 minutes prior, after a wonderful but exhausting first day as an OB resident. All she wanted to do was lay on the couch and watch TV, not accommodate a third roommate, and one she didn't even ask for. She had come home to see that Levi had violated their guest’s policy and invited Taryn over without telling her. Which she wasn't initially upset by until Levi had hopped off the couch and nervously explained that he had offered to let Helm stay with them for the foreseeable future. 

“I told Taryn that..”

“I don't need you to explain to me again,” Jo said, holding up her hand as she closed her eyes and took a breath. “Levi, this isn't a frat house! I bought this place so we, I could move out of the frat house, and you're turning it into a freaking frat house!”

“It's just temporary, just until she can get some help and she needs help, Jo, please,” Levi pleaded with her as he looked back at Taryn with a look of concern.

“Look, I get that you want to help her, but you can't just invite her to stay with us without consulting me. Last I checked, you don’t pay the mortgage on this place.”

“Well, technically, I pay you rent so...”

“Just shut up, my name is on the deed, so as far as I'm concerned, any and all roommate adjustments need to go through me first,” Jo said, jabbing her finger at him. “Besides, I thought you were going to move in with your boyfriend or something.”

“Things between Nico and I are, well,” Levi faltered over what to say as he looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know what exactly, I just need to think about it, but this isn't about Nico and I. This is about Taryn needing some help.” 

Jo crossed her arms and gave him a look as she chewed on her lip. She hoped that her glare will be enough for him to understand that he needed to do something about the situation he had gotten them into, but honestly, Levi was good at getting himself into trouble but not so good at getting himself out.

“I know, and I'm sorry, but until she can get some help, she needs our help, Jo,” Levi said, gesturing to where Helm was still sitting on the couch, watching a drama. 

Jo sighed as she looked over at Taryn. She had never seen her like this, so out of it, and she couldn't help but remember what it was like to be in a similar state like that during her own depressive episode. 

“Fine, but this is a temporary thing,” Jo said with a glare pointing her finger at him before she walked over to stand in front of the couch. She grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, getting Taryn’s attention as she looked up at her. “Okay, starting off, there are a few ground rules. Number one, I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Okay, wait,” Levi started to protest, but she silenced him with another look. 

“Second, rent and utilities are due on the 1st. Third, everyone takes turns making dinner. I don't care if it's takeout or if you cook, it just has to be dinner food. If you eat something, you replace it unless it's from your cabinet. Apart from that, all the chores split the same between the three of us. Lastly, we are all going to go to therapy.”

“I don't think that's going to help,” Taryn said with a little sigh.

“Look, I thought the same thing about it when I first started therapy, but it really does help,” Jo said, looking over at Levi as he nodded before he caught her look and he finally processed what she said and started sputtering.

“Look, I don't really need therapy. I mean, I'm good, everything's good in my life, except for the pandemic, you know but, who isn't suffering. I mean, other than rich people, you know,” Levi said as he sputtered and waved his hands around.

“If anything, you need relationship therapy. Things with you and Nico are, and I don't know what, but it’s a mess, and you are not handling it well. We should all go to therapy, we clearly we all need it. I can recommend someone, so it doesn't have to be Carly, but at least someone,” Jo said, glaring at both of them to make her point.

“Fine,” Levi said, holding up his arms in defeat before they both looked down at Taryn.

“Okay,” she said before leaning back against the couch, still not looking at them. 

 Levi and Jo exchanged a look, it wasn't a lot, but at least it was something. Jo put a hand on her back and walked over to the couch before flopping down on the other end, leaving Levi to take the seat in between them.

“I guess we're all a little messed up,” Levi said, looking between the two of them. “But at least we're not alone.”

Jo smiled as Levi held out his hand. She held his hand and gave it a squeeze before he did the same with Taryn, connecting the three of them.

“It’s gonna get crowded in here real quick,” Jo said as she sighed before quickly curling up and pushing her feet against him. She pushed him over to take up more room on the couch as she flipped over to one of her shows. “Where am I supposed to put the crib now?”

“Where am I gonna sleep?” Taryn asked, looking around the small loft. 

“For tonight, you can take Schmitt’s bed, and then we’ll figure something out,” Jo said with a shrug as she looked around the loft.

“What if we get bunk beds!” Levi said, sitting up with a smile as he looked over at the little space where his bed was set up in the place where Alex’s weights used to be.

“I don't know,” Taryn said as she looked over at him with a weary look. 

The two of them just started discussing possible things as Levi began arguing about how he could make the bunk bed work while Taryn just listened, still not convinced. Jo just shook her head and figured that the two of them would figure it out, so long as they didn't steal her bed. They ordered pizza and watched TV for the rest of the night. Taryn didn't say a lot at first, just one word answers. Yet, she started to make little comments about the ridiculous drama. It wasn't a lot, but it was something, at least for now as the three of them all settled in.

[yikesharringrove]

sorry for potential angst, but maybe steve being reluctant to tell his birthday to others because he Hates celebrating it (to be fair, his family probably isn’t around to celebrate it) because his parents, surprisingly frugal, always gave him shit about Wanting things and probably think he grew out of needing presents a few years back, steve for once being told he’s mature bc he doesn’t mention his wishes. billy probably thinks it’s idk. “weird”? and learns soon practically nobody knows

modern solely for the opening part lmao

-

“Bill, what’s your password.”

Steve had Billy’s phone, was playing this stupid chicken game Billy had downloaded explicitly with Steve in mind.

“It’s my birthday.” Steve tapped it in quickly, kept playing the chicken name.

Billy furrowed his brow. He could not remember Steve’s birthday. Felt like such a shit for forgetting.

“Stevie, when’s your birthday?” Steve just shrugged noncommittally. “Steve.”

“You know. It’s in the year.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Are you mad because I forgot?”

“You didn’t forget. I never told you.”

“But, like, why?”

“I just don’t really get the whole birthday thing. I don’t really tell people when mine is.”

“Can I know?” Billy put on his best puppy dog eyes.

“It’s in the winter. That’s all I’m giving you.” Billy tossed his head back, roaring to the ceiling, Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not even a month?”

“Absolutely not.”

-

Steve always took about a thousand years in the shower, lived in a place where the hot water didn’t run out in twenty minutes.

The moment he heard the water turn on, Billy raced downstairs.

He had only ever been in this room once, had fucked Steve on the big oak desk.

He pushed open the door to Steve’s dad’s office, heading for the file cabinet in the corner.

He rifled through all the drawers, passing folders marked with work related things.

In the very bottom drawer, there was a file towards the back. Simply marked Steven Alexander.

Billy went through it. He found Steve’s school records, paid no attention to the grades that were always getting him yelled at.

He pushed past doctor’s records, laughed briefly at the discharge paperwork from Hawkins General when Steve had apparently run into a tree on his bike.

He rifled all the way to the back, and grabbed at the document.

He scanned over Steve’s birth certificate.

December 2, 2001.

He put it away, rushing back up the stairs, chanting twelve two oh one, twelve two oh one.

-

“Hey! Shitheads!”Billy jogged over to the little gaggle of kids, standing in the parking lot of the arcade. “Listen, I got an idea for Steve’s birthday.”

The kids just stared at him.

“Is it, coming up?” Mike asked slowly.

“Yeah, it’s next weekend.” Dustin furrowed his brows.

“How come I didn’t know that?”

“You, you didn’t?”

“No! Steve’s never said anything!” Dustin was getting all worked up. “I’ve known him for two of his birthdays! And he’s never said anything!”

“Okay, calm down, Little Buddy. We’re doin’ something for him now.”

It didn’t sit right in his gut that even the kids, even Dustin didn’t know Steve’s birthday.

-

“Is there anything special you want for your birthday?”

Steve was curled on his chest, playing with his necklace.

He stiffened when Billy spoke.

“My birthday isn’t for a while.”

“I know it’s this weekend.”

Steve sat up so quickly it gave Billy whiplash.

“Leave it alone, Billy. I don’t want anything.” His voice was cold, harsh.

“Baby, it’s your birthday. Of course you want something.”

“No. I don’t fucking want anything. It’s not allowed.”

And Billy could always tell when it wasn’t Steve talkin’ anymore. When it was his dad’s words tumbling out of his mouth.

“Why isn’t it allowed?” Billy kept his voice even.

“Because, because, money is earned, and when you earn money, you can spend it how you choose. I’m too old for gifts, anyway.” He was all over the place, no doubt years of his father berating him swirling around in his brain.

“It’s okay to want things. Especially on your birthday.” Steve was quiet. “When was the last time someone wished you a happy birthday?”

“When I was thirteen.” Steve was picking at the duvet.

“So, six years. Six years of nothing.”

“Look, I just grew out of it. My dad said I was mature for not being so needy.”

“One ‘a these days, your dad’s gonna get punched in the fucking face.”

“Don’t punch my dad.”

“I never said I was gonna do it.” Steve huffed a laugh, leaning back onto Billy, still a little tense. “It’s okay to ask for things. I want your birthday to be really special.”

“Then I just want a nice day with you. Nothing wild, you don’t even have to tell me happy birthday. I just want to spend the day with you.”

“Well, I can definitely make that happen for you.”

-

Billy woke Steve up on his birthday with a blow job.

Let Steve cum down his throat, and grinned at him when he came off.

“What was that for?”

“What, I need a reason to go down on you now?” Steve looked at him suspiciously.

“I said I didn’t want anything crazy for my birthday.”

“I literally blow you all the time. There was nothing special about it.” Steve just glared at him. “Whatever. Get your ass up. Make me breakfast.”

Billy flopped back down onto the bed, stretching like a lazy cat. Steve leaned over to kiss his forehead.

“That’s more like it.”

-

Steve had made them bacon and eggs while Billy brewed the coffee.

Steve glared at him as the doorbell rang.

“If that is people, coming over for a party-”

“Just open the goddamn door.” Billy gave him a light shove towards the entry hall as he finished his plate.

Steve rolled his eyes, sighing when he was all the kids clumped on his doorstep.

“Hello, Steve. What a perfectly ordinary day.” Steve stared blankly at Dustin. “We have come over, unannounced, on this purely mundane Saturday because we were racking our brains for something to do, and we figured you had no other plans on this boring day.”

“Layin’ it on a little thick, aren’t you?” But Steve ushered them all inside.

“Because it is so cold today, we wanted to have a movie day. With you.” Dustin was still speaking all stiff and practiced.

“Yeah? Just ‘cause?”

“Precisely.”

“Them I get to pick all the movies.”

He was delighted when the ids exchanged looks. None of them shared his movie taste, not even Billy liked his picks. But hey, if they were gonna make a big deal outta the birthday he had asked them to ignore, he was gonna make them sit through every spaghetti western he owns.

“Of course. As it is your home.” Dustin was speaking through gritted teeth.

“Great! Then we’ll start with A Fistful of Dollars.”

He heard them muttering to one another as he traipsed to the tv room, getting out blankets from the ottoman doubling as storage.

He was joined by all the kids later, settling into their usual places, Steve on Billy’s lap.

Everyone was quiet as they waited for whatever movie Steve had chosen, expecting something they would all quietly suffer through.

Steve laughed as they all breathed a collective sigh of relief watching Harrison Ford stroll on screen.

“Look, I appreciate you all not making a big deal. Wasn’t actually gonna torture you.” Billy kissed his cheek.

“We watchin’ all four?”

“There are only three Indiana Jones movies. I refuse to acknowledge the last one. It was so bad.”

“Fair enough, Pretty Boy.”

They settled back into the couch, Max slumped over the other end. El and Mike were sharing an armchair, which Steve kept averting his eyes from, and Dustin, Lucas, and Will had made a home for themselves on the floor.

It was a nice day, just the people he loved being rowdy and loud while watching movies all day, ordering pizza and making a mess.

It was the best birthday he thinks he’s ever had.

“Thank you, Bill. I know I said I didn’t want anything, but this was really nice.”

Billy kissed the top of his head.

“Anything for you, Sweet Thing.”

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

summer sizzle | allnighter, jon moxley

[ prompts used ] 

“Don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.” + exposed + sweet + hands against the wall + lace - these all came from varying lists that I’ve collected over time. I own nothing but the scenario and the originalfemalecharacter used within.

[ warnings ]

18+ only. Unprotected sex. Breeding kink if you squint (iykyk), body fluids, biting a little bit, gentle romantic smut this time.

[ tag squad ]

@kyleoreillysknee​

@rampagewriting​

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@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​

@chasingeverybreakingwave​

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif​

@sassymox​

@mondaynightmcintyre​

@wardl0w​

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@missjenniferb​ 

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[ tag doc - masterlist - about page ]

                           JON MOXLEY in A L L N I G H TER,

“Fuck stilettos. And double fuck hairpins.” I grumbled as I tore at the hairpins holding my hair in place, letting it tumble down my back. I kicked off my stilettos and flexed my toes in thick, plush carpet as I wandered over to the spot I’d sat down my luggage. 

Grabbing the bottle of wine I picked up on the way in, I poured myself a glass and I peeled off the majority of my clothing, leaving me in only a lace pair of panties and the stockings and garter combo I’d been wearing tonight just to kind of feel like a bad bitch.

Pay-per-view weeks are the actual worst. Especially on us stage managers. See, while the guys and girls are out there putting on a show, we’re left with all the prep work. Making sure everyone is in their places and whatnot.  And tonight had been filled with glitches. Spots that should not, under any circumstances have happened, let alone over concrete. People missing their cues to go down to the ring by a minute or two.

The entire night just seemed like one neverending miscommunication amongst the team working and it was frustrating. All I wanted to do was drink some cheap wine, watch some bad cable and lounge around half naked. Maybe even order wings. 

About the time I’d dialed down for room service, I heard the door being knocked on. Staring at it with a raised brow, I grabbed for a gauzy pale violet robe and tied it, slinking over towards the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone and there was literally no way the rack of ribs I’d just ordered myself from room service were already here.

,, probably just one of the girls.” I dismissed any other possibility than this, because on occasion, one or two of the girls on the roster stopped by to talk and hang out. Usually Britt or Anna. I honestly assumed that when I threw the door open, one or the other would be standing on the opposite side of it.

When I did and it wasn’t, well… I slammed the door shut all over again in a hurry, calling through it, “Sorry! I thought it was Britt or Anna Jay. Fuck. Just a minute.”

I dashed around, finding a longer shirt. If I wasn’t 99 percent sure that Mox hadn’t already seen hotter bodies than mine and I wasn’t so goddamn mentally and physically drained, I’d have bothered with the formality of pants. He’s the one who knocked on my door.

They get what they get. If they don’t like me bopping around in a tee shirt and panties, they know how to leave me alone.

“Not that I’m complainin.” Mox called through the door, “But I’m fuckin tired and it’d be nice to get some fuckin sleep.”

I threw the door open, a brow raised. “In my room?” I was confused. What the hell was going on?

I remembered Britt complaining that this hotel was frequently overbooking itself and people wound up having to share rooms a lot and then it hit me. That was probably what this was.

Awesome. On top of everything, I was now going to have to suffer through a night of lingering sexual tension… I cast a gaze at the ceiling, briefly wondering what deity I’d pissed off. First the train wreck that was backstage during the pay per view tonight and now, having to share a room that I won’t lie, I wouldn’t kick out of bed for eating crackers.

Who I’ve maybe flirted with back and forth on occasion. Who I suspect flirts right back with me.

“Our room, apparently.” Mox stepped into the room, chuckling as his eyes settled on me and then darted down, fixing on the bottle of wine in my hand. “Rough night?”

“You were there, Jon.” I mused, raising the bottle to my lips. The door to the elevator down the hall slid open and the scent of barbecue ribs filled the air, my stomach growling upon scent. He sniffed the air and eyed the cart being wheeled towards the door of the hotel room before casting a glance back at me.

“Ya mean you eat somethin besides salad?” Mox muttered, chuckling quietly as I continued to stare intently at my ribs as they made their way towards me. The cart came to a stop outside the door and I stepped out, shutting the door behind me as I signed for the order. Mox pulled the door open and stepped out of the way, letting me wheel the cart into the room. Almost the second the door was shut tight behind me again, I was tearing into the covered dishes, tearing a rib apart from the rack and devouring it while groaning. 

Mox’s eyes fixed on my mouth and he bit his lip, muttering something to himself and shaking his head. I honestly didn’t have a fuck left to give on this particular night. I was tired and hungry and hell bent on eating. I tore away another and held it out to him, teasing with a playful smirk, “What?”

“Nothing.” Mox took the piece I held out to him and stepped away abruptly. Wait, did I just pout because he stepped away? It had me a little shocked for a second. I quickly pushed it out of my head and flopped across my bed, grabbing for the remote, turning on the television set. I sat up and reached for the phone on the nightstand beside my bed, killing the music. 

As I did it, I could almost swear I felt his eyes glued to me. I didn’t dare turn to look back at first and when I did, rather than catch him watching me, I caught him tugging the form fitting gray tee shirt he was wearing up and letting it settle on the floor next to his bed. He wandered over to the cart filled with food and got himself another rib and then he flopped down on the bed opposite mine.

The tension in the room was so heavy. I almost couldn’t breathe. I tried to ignore it, just sit there and keep eating my ribs and drinking my wine, but the silence was getting to be too much.

He cleared his throat and I jumped a little, rolling over to look at him. “Yeah?” I asked, taking another rib and biting into it, waiting on him to say whatever it was he’d been about to. Metallica shattered the silence and I grumbled, diving for my cell phone.

“What now.” I grumbled, annoyed. By the time I’d actually gotten my hands on my phone, it was silent. I checked the call id anyway and just as I figured, it was my ex. Probably drunk dialing again. Which was definitely the last thing I wanted to deal with tonight.

Mox coughed abruptly and as soon as I realized what my impromptu little dive exposed in the form of my entire lace covered ass, I felt my skin burning all over. I tugged down the tee shirt and poked out my tongue and he grumbled quietly about my lack of pants with something else behind that, much lower. I couldn’t hear it. “If it bothers you, maybe don’t look.” I sassed, poking out my tongue. The tension was subsiding, however, the air in the space still felt heavy somehow… Filled with something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was just enjoying the view, kitten.” his voice had a certain teasing drawl to it’s usual velvet gravel rasp and I felt my legs clench just a little bit before I could process just how his voice actually gets to me. I pretended not to hear and I wiggled around on my bed, trying to get comfortable again, winding up propping on my elbows.

I huffed at the way my bangs flopped back into my eyes and I grabbed for the remote, trying to focus on the tv set, but it was almost mission impossible, what with breathing temptation sprawled out shirtless on the next bed.

We sprang up at the same time, heading for the cart full of food and found ourselves body to body. Just to keep from whimpering, I raised the bottle of wine to my lips, taking a rushed gulp. Nearly choking. He reached around me clumsily, patting my back until I stopped, snickering quietly about it.

“What was so funny about that?”  I pouted slightly, cocking my head to the side to gaze up at him.

“Nothin.” he muttered the word, leaning in a little. His eyes were locked on mine. We were migrating closer. Maybe I started out taking a step back, but when my back met the wall, I let out a quiet groan as soon as his hands settled palm down against the wall on either side of my head, pinning me between.

As his tongue darted out and trailed slowly over his lips, I swallowed hard, barely stifling a whimper. His hips pressed into mine a little and he reached down, toying with the collar of the oversized tee shirt I’d thrown on when he knocked.

“Jon?” I gasped out quietly, my eyes fixing on his. Darting down to his mouth and lingering. And out of nowhere, this strong and almost overwhelming desire to pull his mouth down against mine surfaced. 

I tried and tried but I couldn’t shove it down. His mouth was inching closer, slowly. Almost lazily. When his tongue shot out and rolled over his lips again, I gulped and when I took a breath, it was shaky. Enough to jar me a little, have me raising an eye at myself. 

“Don’t you get tired of dancin around what happens when we’re in a room together, kitten? Because fuck… I’m exhausted.” 

I nodded, my brain and mouth still trying to come to some kind of agreement and formulate actual words at this point. I’d never really stopped and thought about it, nor had I taken Jon Moxley seriously at any time whenever he flirted with me, because, well.. But now that I was stopping to think about it, the tension that always lingered between us was almost draining. I mean, sure… I did my best to ignore it. And keep him at a safe arms length.

Now that I couldn’t. Now that I had no way to escape it… I was starting to notice all these little things. Like just how fucking blue his eyes were up close. The little quiver to his lip right now. The way his hand felt rough against my hip when he lowered it from beside my head and squeezed my hip tight, grinding me right against him, his head lowered, nose buried in the crown of my head as he took a few long and deep breaths.

Kind of like he was trying to pull himself together.

It was not the side of Jon Moxley I was most used to. The side that was always taunting and teasing, laughing or being an idiot. Or an ass.

This was something different. More serious. Deeper.

When I felt him strained against the thin basketball shorts he was wearing, I gulped and a whimper slipped out of my mouth.

Ice blue eyes turned almost inky as he locked them on my body and did it again, snapping his hips against mine. I reached for the bottle sitting on the dresser nearby and his hand reached out, circling mine and steering the bottle to his own mouth. He took a long sip and I guided the bottle back towards my mouth. His eyes locked onto my lips intently.

“If you want to do something, Jon…” I sat the bottle down, staring up at him, a bit of a smirk forming. Because I still doubted that anything would actually come of it.

Until it did. The low throaty growl shattered the air between our mouths as he leaned into me, pressing my back right up against the wall and allowing me to melt against his body. My hand raised, fingers dragging close cropped hair and his mouth collided with mine all while he rocked his hips into me over and over, one of his hands on the side of my face and the other lowering, gripping bare thigh and raising my leg to his hip. 

His tongue pushed my lips apart, slipping between. I could taste the wine and the barbecue sauce from the rack of ribs we’d been sharing. My free hand found his shoulder, my nails digging lightly. Our breaths were harsh and they lingered. My hands moved over his biceps as I leaned into him heavily. My legs suddenly felt like someone swapped out all my bones with butter and I was in danger of puddling on the floor.

And I won’t even get into the fact that I was so wet I knew I had to be soaking through thin lace. Or that my cunt was throbbing pretty much in time with my heart right now. I rubbed myself against him as the kiss deepened to a point that I couldn’t tell whether we were breathing on our own or for each other and he muttered lazily against my mouth, “Get it now, kitten? Do you know what I want right now? Or do I have to spell it out?”

At this point, he didn’t, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make things just a shade difficult. As his lips broke from mine and ghosted over my pulse, my eyes fluttered and I gasped out at last, “Yeah. Tell me, Jon.”

A hand resting against the side of my face lowered between us, slipping beneath the hem of my oversized tee shirt, resting palm down against my cunt as he gave a squeeze that had me whimpering and rocking against his hand. I exhaled sharply, licking my lips as I locked eyes with him. His mouth was back against mine again, teeth latching onto my lower lip and tugging, the hand on my cunt continuing to rub and squeeze as he growled into my mouth, “Fuckin soaked through those pretty little red panties already, hm?”

I felt my skin heating all over in a blush and all I could do was whimper as thick digits brushed the lace barrier currently separating his fingers from my dripping cunt to the side. As his fingers worked me open and pressed against my clit, rubbing slow and hard, I whined and rocked against his fingers in a desperate bid for more friction. Anything to make the throbbing ache settled between my thighs die down. “Had my eye on you a while now, kitten. And I ain’t stupid. I know you’ve been flirting back.”

“I have.” I panted as I rocked harder, faster, my eyes fluttering open and shut as a blinding wave of pleasure began to build and his teeth grazed my pulse, sinking down into my neck. Biting my neck is definitely a way to get me going real fast and in a hurry.  It caught me off guard that I wasn’t offering up my usual thousands of good excuses why not like I’d normally do in the past whenever Mox came on just a little too strong for me and then it hit… I only push him away because there’s something about the way he makes me feel everything entirely too much that scares me a little. See, I like playing it safe. And I know enough to know that Mox is dangerous as they come.

“All you gotta do, kitten, is tell me to stop.” Mox caught my gaze, the fingers on his free hand tucking beneath my chin as he stared deep into my eyes. His mouth caught against mine all over again, lazily and not even a full connect and damn it, I wanted more. I needed him kissing me again... Even though he said it and I knew he meant it and I knew that stopping was probably a good idea given what I now realized, I also knew that I was not about to stop him.

Not when I wanted him. Craved him on a level that blew my mind to even comprehend.

“And I haven’t. I’m not going to, either.” I mumbled the words again just as his fingertips brushed open my folds and slipped inside. The heel of his hand pressed right up against my clit, rubbing with each scissoring movement of his fingers and I whimpered, rocking against. My arms went around his neck, one hand settling at the back of his neck to pull his mouth deeper into mine as the other hand rested on his muscular shoulder, fingertips digging in just a little more with each thrust of his fingers deep into my dripping cunt. I pouted when he drew out his fingers and he chuckled, pressing himself full into me as he nodded to the bed.

“Tonight was too goddamn rough for me t’ even consider tryin this standing up.” he explained in breathy pants against my mouth and neck as he slid me up his body and stepped over to my bed, gently tossing me on top of it, leaning down, his fingers going straight for the hem of his shirt as my legs circled his waist and he positioned himself between them. I lowered my hand to the waistband of his sweats, tugging and giving an impatient whine. He caught the pleading look in my eyes and chuckled, biting his lip as he leaned down and into me, raising me up, getting the tee shirt completely away from my body and tossing it to the side.

“If you want something, kitten.. Fuckin take it. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” the words were spoken in this tender tone that before tonight, I never would’ve readily associated with Jon Moxley in any shape or form. He bucked himself against me clumsily and I hissed, my legs tensing at his sides, locking as they tried to pull him flat against me even more. 

“Take it, huh?” I mumbled as I gripped his jaw, guiding his mouth away from my tits and back up to my own mouth, “That’s really all I have to do?”

“Mhm.” lust blown blue eyes locked on me and this time when he bucked himself against me, it was harder. With so much more urgency. Fingertips caught in the band of thin lace panties and the silent tear lingered heavy in the air a few seconds as he pulled the ripped material away from my body and tossed it to the floor.

My first instinct, of course, was to throw my hands up over my tits and torso because of the softness and imperfections. They didn’t bother me, but I’m no idiot. I know that there are other women in his past that looked a lot more appealing than me and maybe knowing that bothered me a little. His, of course, was to lower my hands, eyes roaming me hungrily. A low growl slipping out of his mouth as he licked his lips. “Don’t cover yourself up, kitten.”

I nodded, my  tongue dancing over my lips as I gazed up into his eyes. My hand raised, fingers catching in his waistband all over again, tugging impatiently. Once I got them down past his hips, he let his sweats hit the floor and kicked them off at the ankles and as soon as my eyes settled on the lack of underwear or the way his thick cock sprang free, I swallowed hard, trying to pull him back down against me with my legs all over again.

He settled on top of me, hips pinning mine flat against the mattress. His hands moved up my body, his mouth blazing a trail right behind it, stopping as he squeezed my tits together and rolled his tongue across both my nipples, letting his teeth catch as he stared up at me, hints of a smirk playing at his mouth. The groan that came out of his mouth was enough to have me whimpering. The way he combined gentle kitten licks to my skin with harder and harsher bites was.. Enough to have me arching myself up against him. Or trying to, it was a little harder to do with his hips pinning me against the mattress.

“Jon.” I panted against his throat as my teeth scraped against it, “C’mon. Need you inside me.” my moan hung in the air between us as he pushed himself into me, shallowly at first, going still, his teeth and lips against my skin, nipping and licking, sucking and leaving as many marks as he could behind on the surface of my skin. The way his body felt pressed against me had me even needier because it just felt entirely too good. Entirely. Something I could get used to easily.

“Need me, hm?” he mused, pulling away to look at me while catching his breath. I raised a hand as I nodded, fingertips dancing over the outline of his mouth. “I said it, didn’t I?”

“You fucking did, kitten.” he muttered in a low growl as his teeth nipped at my fingertips, making me whimper a little. His mouth dove down to mine, meeting it all over again in a deep and passionate kiss and I rocked myself up into him, his cock slipping between my folds and making me moan, my fingers dragging his scalp and digging into his shoulders as my legs clenched his sides.  He thrust into me slowly, inch for inch sinking in, his fingertips digging into my hips as he groaned against my throat, “Goddamn, kitten. So fucking tight around me.”

My eyes fluttered and I whimpered, my back arching as I gazed up at the ceiling and braced myself, getting used to the way he stretched and filled me with dots dancing in my vision as my orgasm only continued to build and intensify. I could hear the wet sounds every single time he pulled his cock out and slammed it back in deep, hard.. Slow. With enough drive behind the movements of his hips that I felt like I was being fucked deep into the mattress. His hands left my hips and wandered up my body, catching hold of my hands and holding them flat against the pillow under my head and I gasped out against his neck, begging for more. Faster.

His hips snapped against mine almost frantically, his teeth locked onto my neck, sucking. When he broke contact with my neck, his mouth was on mine again, hungrily. The soft smacks of our kisses growing louder and more desperate. “Kitten, fuck.” he groaned as my hips rocked to meet his every thrust. I raised them a little and the new angle had him slowing down just a shade, his mouth against the bridge of my nose and his hands letting go of mine, going down to my hips to hold them at the angle I’d risen them to, driving into me slower.. Harder.. Deeper. “Wanna fucking fill you up.” that growl got lower and his words left me whimpering, frantically trying to meet his pace as my lips latched onto his, capturing them in a needy and rough kiss. “Do it then.” the words left my mouth before I could stop to really consider what I was that I was saying.

Not that it mattered.

My orgasm was building at an earth shattering speed now and Mox seemed to pick right up on it, his cock striking right up against my g-spot over and over as he bottomed out inside me. Our eyes locked on each other and I whimpered at the way his eyes practically glowed with this soft lust when they met mine. My hand raised, briefly resting against his cheek as his hips stammered and I could feel my pussy clenching around him. “Let go, kitten, c’mon. Let go for me.” Mox urged, his voice more groan than anything.

I could feel him burying balls deep as he slammed back into my pussy, his hands squeezing my hips, his breath catching in his throat. My own orgasm ripped through me and I clung to him, my hips struggling to keep up the pace he set between us but not caring, too gone on the high I was feeling to bother. He fucked me right through my own orgasm and into his own, his cock throbbing, his seed overfilling and he kept plowing into me, gradually slowing, his mouth all over my neck and against my mouth, his teeth catching on tender and kiss swollen lips.

He came to a stop at last and he fell back against the mattress, immediately reaching out, pulling my body atop his with his arms wrapped around me tight as he chuckled against my mouth. “Not too tired on me, right kitten?”

“A little tired.” I gave a soft laugh, my body settling close against his, my mouth brushing his mouth as his hands wandered down, giving my ass a squeeze as he rocked himself into me and gave a quiet growl.

[samthemarvelfan]

Hard Day’s Night: One Shot

Summary: CEO!Bucky is a dick. He takes out his frustration on the one person he shouldn’t have. Honestly? The dude just needs to get laid.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat: Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Angst, Smut!

A/N: This is just a small idea that hit me outta no where! I hope you enjoy! 18+ please!

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @disaffectedbarnes​ (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

Your heels echoed through the halls of the empty lobby. A sound you’ve come to enjoy, because it meant you can enjoy your morning in peace.

It was calm—serene, even. The best part of getting here a full hour before your co-workers; having your coffee in peace and watch the sun come up over the Hudson.

You’d ditched the heels the second you got to your floor, no way you’d suffer in those things and not have anyone around to see you in them.

The ‘refreshment room’, as you’d been instructed to call it, was always fully stocked with snacks, essentials, and coffee. You hummed to yourself, deciding on an iced vanilla latte. Being sure to stir it carefully, not wanting to splash it on your white top.

You were about to take that first delightful sip, when you heard someone walk in behind you.

“Would you look at that, just the person I wanted to see.” The voice called from behind you.

You have got to be shitting me. You grumbled internally.

Clearing your throat, you turn around, plastering on the fakest work smile you could.

“Mr. Barnes, I didn’t expect to see you so early.” You greet, smoothing our your black pencil skirt.

James Barnes was the foremost author of the decade. 12 Novels, a TV series, and a screenplay—I guess the guy liked to keep busy.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He said curtly, gesturing to you stocking-clad feet.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks with embarrassment. “Oh. I’m sorry, Sir. I’m just usually alone this early and I thought—“

“You thought you’d treat my office like it’s your home?” He quipped.

You shook your head quickly, “No, no I was only—“

“Forget it. Listen, these sales reports? They’re horrendous. Who taught you how to summarize an account?” He was already in a mood...and it wasn’t even 7:30.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to control your temper. “To be fair, I’m not an account executive. I was filling in for Sam, and you asked me to do them.”

He scoffed, “Oh I see, it my fault you’re incompetent.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Incompetent? I do every assignment you ask of me, most of which are above my pay grade. I do them to the best of my ability, and when something isn’t up to the ‘Barnes Standard’, I’m chewed out for it. Regardless if I’m even trained in the job or not.”

He threw the file on the table next to you, before gripping the back of a chair, leaning forward on it.

“Is that how you see things? Tell me then, Miss Monroe, what would you like? Me to hold your hand through every aspect of your job? Or maybe just do your job for you.” He said sarcastically.

That’s. It.

“How about you learn how to treat your employees! Maybe then you wouldn’t go through so many! How many secretaries have you been through this year alone, hm? ‘Cause I’ve met at least 6.”

You couldn’t stop the word vomit. James Barnes was an awful boss. He was crass and arrogant, and looked down on everyone.

But he pays well. You thought to yourself.

After watching you for a moment, Mr. Barnes suddenly stood straight up, grabbing the file from the table top.

“You can go home. Your skills aren’t needed today.” He spat.

A pit opened in your stomach. Did you just get fired? For speaking your mind?

Time to grovel.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. I can—“

“You can go home.” He said, turning his back and leaving you.

Your legs felt like they were going to give out on you. You had one of the most respected authors as a boss, a job most people would kill for, and you couldn’t just keep your mouth shut.

“Fuck.” You whispered with tears in your eyes.

You didn’t even grab your drink. You just picked up your heels and your bag, and did the proverbial walk of shame to the elevators.

“Just put a fucking dress on and come out.” Wanda shouted through your phone’s speakers.

“Wanda, I’m not in the mood! For all I know I was just fired from a very well paying job. All because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” You groaned, flopping backward on your bed.

She sighed, “Even if you were, who cares? Do you really want to keep working for that asshole?”

She was right. Was money really worth getting verbally accosted everyday?

“Fine. I’ll get dressed, but I reserve the right to wallow if I get an email telling me I’ve been canned.” You bargain.

Wanda laughed, “Deal! Now go get ready. Wear a dress. The navy one!”

You pressed end, and stood from your bed.

That navy dress Wanda mention was a showstopper, but was it really pub appropriate?

Velvet, long sleeves, a deep v neck to accentuate your curves. Pair it with black heeled booties and you felt unstoppable.

Hair curled, burgundy lips, and the right perfume. You made a mental note to thank Wanda for pulling you out of your funk.

“Two more, please!” Wanda shouted at the very attractive bar tender.

The pub was full of people and the music was blasting through the retro jukebox perched against the wall.

“Thank you for making me do this.” You say to her.

She smiled, “I know you, don’t I? I know when you need a push in the right direction.”

The bartender returned with your shots of tequila, and you all too quickly downed them.

“I’m a good fucking employee.” You slur, feeling the effects of your 3 previous shots.

She nods, “I know! I mean, I don’t know...but I bet you are! He’s crazy, to not see that.”

You were about to reply, when you see a man looking at Wanda. His eyes flitting between her and smiling shyly at his drink.

“I’m going to go down to the other end of the bar, and I’m gonna order a beer. It’s probably gonna take a loooong time.” You say dramatically.

“What?” She asks confused.

You nod your head behind you. “He’s cute. And he definitely thinks your cute. Don’t worry, I’m only a dozen bar stools away.” You wink, stumbling off the stool you’re currently perched on.

The other end of the bar is further than you thought, but thankfully, there was one seat left open.

“Can I sit here?” You ask the person beside it.

They paid you no mind, “Go ahead.” He grumbled.

You glanced at the bartender, “Beer. Bottle, not a glass, please.”

The person next to you scoffed.

“Something funny?” You ask.

He laughed again, genuinely. “That’s my order too.” He replied without looking at you.

You stare a bit longer than would be soberly required. When his featured start to seem familiar. You quickly turn back to face the bar.

Not here. He can’t be here.

“I was wondering when you’d recognize me.” Mr. Barnes said causally.

Your heart pounded in your chest. Of all the fucking bars in Manhattan, he chooses this one?

“Sorry, I’ve just never seen you outside of work. How long have you been here?” You asked, praying he’d only just arrived.

He sipped his beer, “Oh I think I arrived around shot number two.” He smiled.

James Barnes smiled.

“You saw that, huh?” You ask, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.

He nodded, fiddling with his bottle.

“Figured your day musta been pretty rough when I saw number four.” His voice was somber, almost ashamed.

“Mr. Barnes, I—“

“Bucky. Please, we’re not in the office.” He said, finishing the last of his beer.

You smiled shyly. “Speaking of...” you sipped at your drink, “Am I...did you...was I—“

“Fired?” He asked.

You nod.

Bucky -gosh that’s weird to say- laughed, “No. I just wanted you to stew in fear for a little bit.”

Typical James Buchanan Barnes. “That’s kind of you.” You seethe.

He put a hand on your back. “Relax. I realized I was being an asshole about 3 minutes after those elevator doors closed, and I knew you wouldn’t answer if I called.”

He raised a hand in the bartender’s direction, and in seconds had another beer. “I know I’m...difficult at best. That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you. I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s hand slid from your shoulder back to the beer in front of him.

You nod at his sentiment, “Thank you for saying that. I’d thought I’d get an email telling me to pick up my things.” A nervous laugh escaped you.

He shook his head, “God, no. I don’t think that office could run without you. Logistical Liaison is a made up position, but I invented it for a reason. I need someone who knows how to run things when I lose control.”

Bucky tipped the bottle towards you, “and that’s you, Ella.” He hesitated, “Can I call you that?”

You giggle, and nod. “Like you said, we’re out of the office.”

A silence fell between the two of you. It was comfortable. Surprisingly comfortable.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” Bucky suddenly spoke. It was a hushed tone, meant only for you.

“Oh yeah?” You replied.

He nodded, “I wanted to say that a lot earlier, but then it would look like all I was doing was hitting on my employee.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” You quipped.

Was he flirting? Were you flirting?

His eyebrows raised in agreement as he nursed his beer. “No we would not.”

The two of you had 3 more drinks between you; a beer and jack and coke for Mr—Bucky, and a Jameson on the rocks for you.

Now you stood on the brisk Manhattan streets, waiting for a cab.

“I gotta say Ella, you’re so different. You’re much different than I’d thought you’d be.” He said, clearly feeling the effects of the booze.

You surprisingly weren’t as drunk as you’d usually be at this point. Perks of eating pizza before going out.

“You’ve thought about me, huh?” You ask slyly.

Bucky’s cheeks redden. “I might have. You're so kind. You’re kind to everyone at that godforsaken office. You help anyone who needs it and you’re always professional, no matter the circumstances. You’re a good person. I know you are.” He thumb swipes tenderly over your cheek.

Now it was your turn to be timid. “And you, Mr. Barnes, have a way with words.” You smile, playfully slapping your clutch against his shoulder.

Bucky flagged a taxi down, “Come on, share my cab. I don’t want you going home alone like this.” He offers.

You nod, agreeing you’re probably not in the best shape to be alone in a cab at damn near midnight.

After giving the cab driver your address, you relax, leaning against Bucky’s shoulder.

“This was fun. I’m glad I ran into you.” He said lowly.

You glance up at him, “I never thought I’d say this, but me too. I had fun, and bonus, I’m not fired!” You jest, and share a laugh.

A short while later, the cab pulled up in front of your brownstone, and Bucky helps you out.

“Well, this is me.” You say, sadness coating your words.

Bucky nods, “I’m kinda bummed. I don’t want this to end.”

You let out a small breath.

Now or never, Ella. You think to yourself.

“It doesn’t have too.” You say boldly.

He looks at you, a new glimmer in his eye, before waving the cab on, sending the driver away.

“Guess I’m not always professional after all.” You say, shyness making its way back into you voice.

He put his hand on the small of your back as you walked up the steps to your front door. “I think I can make an exception for tonight.”

You pushed the door open. “Just tonight?” You ask.

Bucky looks at you, slipping his hand around your waist. “That’s up to you, Doll.”

Your back pressed against the front door. His nose nuzzled yours. “Are we doing this? Cause I’ll be honest, If we do what I think were gonna do, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

His warm lips moved to you neck, leaving bites and wet kisses up to your jaw.

“James.” You breathe.

This seems to work him up. His mouth moves to yours, soft at first. Longing.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at it slightly. Bucky takes this as an okay for his hands to roam your figure.

“I’ve watched you.” He says between kisses. “The way you float around that office.”

Kiss.

“I’ve seen you look at me, too.”

Kiss.

“The way you bite that lip. Mmm, I think I want a turn.” He nips at you again.

You push off the wall and tug his hand to follow you.

The door to your bedroom is pushed open agonizingly slow. You get the impression he doesn’t like being teased, so of course you have to tease him.

Bucky’s hands are on you again, finding the zipper to your dress. It hits the floor and he steps back, admiring the view.

“You’re killing me, Sugar.” He moans, seeing you topless.

Heels kicked off, you crawl backwards into your bed. He ditches his shirt and pants, and he crawls up your body.

“Can I taste you?” He asks seductively.

Your eyes meet his; cerulean pools of lust drawn you into him.

“Yes. God, yes.” You beg.

He smirks. His lips attaching to the skin above your breast, before taking your nipple into his mouth.

You let out a feral moan, “Oh.”

His lips trace a line down your torso, stopping above you panties.

“Now who’s teasing who?” You breathe.

In seconds, your aching heat was exposed to him. “Baby, baby, baby.” He whined.

Bucky attached his mouth to your throbbing clit, sucking it gently.

“Fuck.” You groan. Grinding your hips upwards.

He puts his hands on your belly. “Don’t move.”

You’re panting, gripping the bedsheets. “James...Oh my God I’m—I’m.”

“Let go,” he coos, “I’ve got you, Sugar.”

At his behest, you come undone. An explosion of ecstasy exploding in your belly.

“Come up here.” You pant.

Bucky smirks as he attaches his mouth to yours.

You press your hands against his chest urging him to lay on his back.

In a fluid motion, your straddling him. Grinding your heat onto his cock.

“You’re a little tease, you know that? I should punish you.” He nips at your breast.

You smirk, lifting yourself just enough for him to slide into you. He was buried to the hilt when he grunted into your ear.

“So wet. So tight. So perfect.”

You rode him like there was no tomorrow. Feeling that familiar burst building in your abdomen.

Bucky lifted you from him, knocking you to your knees and slipping in from behind you.

“James.” You moan.

“I know. C’mon Doll, give me one more. Together.”

He pounded you harder and faster, chasing his own release. Bucky snaked a hand between the two of you, fingering your clit.

“I’m gonna cum. Oh my God, I’m cumming!” You shout.

Bucky’s groans became rhythmic, matching his strokes. You came—hard. Feeling the his warmth spill into you as he lay his chest against your back.

You both flop back. Panting like you’d run a marathon.

“Holy shit...” you breathe.

Bucky leaned over and kissed your head.

“I think I realized why I was such a miserable bastard.” He jokes between breaths.

“Oh yeah?” You ask.

He nods, “I needed to get laid, and I needed it to be you.”

You leaned over and kissed him. “Well, what’s gonna happen on Monday?”

“Based on that? I should fucking promote you.” He jokes.

You slap his chest. “I’m serious! I don’t want this to get weird.”

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it softly.

“It won’t. I promise. In all honesty, I had planned on asking you out at some point—this kinda just happened first.”

You looked up at him as he closed his eyes peacefully. He really was handsome; a tortured writer in his prime.

“Ask me.” You say suddenly.

Bucky opens one eye. “What?”

“Ask me. Ask me out.” You urge happily.

He looks at you for a moment, before smiling wide. “Miss Monroe, would you like to go out to dinner sometime?”

You leaned on your elbows, kissing his lips longingly.

“I would love to Mr. Barnes. I have to make sure my boss doesn’t need me to work overtime. He’s a real hard ass, ya know.”

Bucky chuckled, “Is he? Might have to knock some sense into him.”

A smirk lands on your lips, and you wink. “Just make sure you leave his mouth alone, that’s precious cargo.”

[sunshinesukuna]

stuck with him

pairing: miya atsumu x reader

genre: flangst

wc: 1.7k

insp: PINK LEMONADE - THE WOMBATS (PLEASE LISTEN TO THISSS. IT INSPIRED THIS WHOLE SERIES AND IS A BANGER.)

a/n: three down, three more to go y’all’s. had fun writing this because analogies and fuckbois that don’t love me? i love. *cue toxic by britney spears*

reblogs >>> likes

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You wipe off eraser dust from your books when Atsumu gets a good look at your hand. Something has caught the sunlight, and it’s reflecting back into his eye. At first he goes to close the curtains, but then he realizes it’s coming from your fingers.

A silver band rests snugly on your middle finger. Atsumu knows who it must be from. He refuses to acknowledge it. Focusing his attention on the set of practice problems in front of him, he carries on with his work. But the way you look at the ring makes him look up from the math questions and into your eyes. He decided that he’s in need of a bit of torture.

“Hey, (Y/N), where’d ya get the ring?”

“Oh this?” You hold it up to the light, taking a moment to appreciate it. “Yuuji gave it to me. He said that as long as I have this, he’ll always be with me, and I’ll always be with him.”

Atsumu scoffed. What a load of BS. He was willing to bet that the ring you were wearing right now was probably the same ring that Terushima had given to the many girls before you.

“Oh yeah?” Atsumu asks.

“Yeah. He’s been really good to me, y’know? He takes me out on really creative dates, and he says the smoothest words, and he just,” you flop back in your seat, “he’s the best, Atsumu. Thank you so much for slapping him in the face that time.”

Atsumu chuckles, but there’s a pang in his heart that just can’t seem to be covered up. The fond smile you have on your face turns you a thousand times more beautiful. Every atom inside Atsumu’s body screams for him to keep that smile on your face.  It seems that both you and Atsumu are suffering from a case of lovesick right now. He lets out a strangled cough.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Atsumu shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Both of you know that he’s lying. Normally, you would ask him about it and he would confess when he was ready. But both of you both knew that these weren’t normal circumstances. You keep your eyes down and focus on the polynomial problems in front of you. 

You sigh and open up another book. You’re just about to flip to another page when your phone rings beside you on the table. Your stomach did a little backflip upon seeing the contact name. It’s a facetime, so you quickly angle your face towards the source of light and make sure your hair is alright. There’s a pencil still stuck in your ears, which you remove hastily before pressing ‘Accept’. 

“Hi Yuuji!” you greeted. Your boyfriend’s face on the line was blurry on the other side, but that was enough. He seemed to be laying down on his bed at home. When he smiled at you, his tongue piercing caught the light from his room and blinked and glittered.

Atsumu resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the sickly sweet tone you were using, a far cry from your normal voice that you were talking with just a few minutes ago. 

“Hey, baby,” Terushima said. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

“Nah, I’m just checking on you. What are you doing right now?”

“Just studying with ‘Tsumu here. Say hi, Atsumu!” Atsumu looked up from his book. The fuck was he supposed to say? He opts for a short nod to the camera. 

“Hey, man,” Terushima says. Atsumu keeps his silence and goes back to studying. “What are you studying?”

“Eh…” You flip through your books. “Math.”

“Don’t wanna come over to my house and study with me?” Oh hell no. Atsumu chokes back a gag at his behaviour. As a former, maybe current fuckboy himself, Atsumu attests to Terushima’s experience. You giggle dreamily and lean your head on the table.

“We all know how bad you are at math, sweetie,” you say. So now you and him were on pet name basis? Well damn. This Terushima guy might just be good at his job. Of playing you of course. 

“Hey, um, is it okay if we cancel our date on Saturday?” Terushima asks. Your eyes become wide and your lips droop with disappointment. If Atsumu was on the other side of that line right now, he wouldn’t have said such a thing to make you revert to that state. Even sitting in front of you right now, all he wants to do is to pinch the corners of your mouth back into that dazzling smile of yours. But that’s Terushima’s job, isn’t it?

“What? It’s the third time you’ve bailed out on me, Yuuji.” Third time? Atsumu was ready to throw hands by now. He resorted to gripping the edge of his pencil. It runs off of his papers out of his accord, creating squiggly lines that stray off of the neat blue lines.

“I know, I know. I’m really sorry, babe. Something came up.” Yeah, your ego, Atsumu almost spits out. 

“Okay then…” 

“I’ll make up to you, baby! I promise,” Terushima adds hurriedly. 

“Sure.” Atsumu glances up to your face. You raise an eyebrow in somewhat annoyance, and your face is scrunched up in resignation. Of course you’d be annoyed, it’s the third time he’s blown you off. 

“See you then, love you!” Terushima makes kissing noises from his line of the phone.

“Love you too.” You cut the call with a sigh and pick up your pencil once more. Silence befalls the two of you as you tey to get your feelings in order and finish the problems in front of you. You click your tongue.

“You really are a simp for him, eh?” Atsumu says. There’s a smug look on his face that you want to slap off. You opt for a shrug. 

“I guess I am.” You lean your head on your palms and look up. ”He’s just so cute, though.” There’s a giddy smile on your face, despite the disappointment you had just gone through a few minutes prior. You open your phone once again, heading to the gallery where you open the folder titled ‘yuuji <3’. With each picture you scroll through, the smile on your face gets larger and larger.

“Oi. D’ya wanna go the the amusement park with me?” Atsumu asks. It’s impulsive, and maybe you’ll forget about the sudden loss if you spend some time with him, anyways. He also hasn’t seen you outside from school or clubs until now.

You tilt your head to the side. “When?”

“Saturday?” 

“Don’t you have practice later that day?” Don’t say no, don’t say no, don’t say no.

“We can go after practice,” Atsumu suggests. 

“Sorry, Atsumu.” You almost seem to recoil back in your seat. Your body balls up by itself, the relaxed pose you had now contracting into a more defensive stance. “I just… don’t feel good going with you now that i have a boyfriend, especially when it was supposed to be a date day.” 

"I wouldn't want Yuuji to think that anything was going on." 

There’s the sucker punch. So now you can’t even spare just several hours of your day because you’re afraid that your boyfriend won’t let you spend time with your friend? Your childhood friend at that, one that you’ve known for more than three-fourths of your life? Atsumu’s eyes twitched, the same way he would when he saw a spiker slip up.

You sucked in a gust of air. “I’m going to go home, now ‘Tsumu.” The zip of a pencil case and the flapping of pages shook Atsumu out of his thoughts. You were fully ready to go, your bag slung over your shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

He walks you out to the front of the door. Had the previous events not transpired, maybe there would be small banter between you two. Probably about the latest TV show, or a cute idol you liked that Atsumu thought looked like his belly button in the shower. There is none of that now. 

In silence, you give him a quick smile — the smile you give to strangers and the nice tamagoyaki man. Has Atsumu sunk to their level in your eyes? To be replaced by your new knight in shining armour?

Too deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the lock of the door in front of him. And when he finally comes to his senses, you’re not there anymore. 

There’s a knot of fire in his chest. Is it the burning inferno of hate and jealousy? Or the dying embers of the love and respect he has for you? The fire rages in his mind, incinerating all common sense and leaving behind the ashes of envy. He could possibly will the fire to put itself out by himself, but he know that the person that’s going to quell the burning anger in him is you.

And now, you’re gone. 

A poor chair is knocked to the ground with a fierce grunt from the setter. Atsumu's toe throbs in pain, but at least it gives him one more thing to think about other than you. He’s about to lay waste to the magazines on the coffee table in front of him, but he collapses down on the sofa and counts to ten, like Kita taught him to. It doesn’t work. 

Atsumu counts to ten again, no use. He settles for a glass of water. It’s what you would do whenever a certain opponent was getting on their nerves during a game. Oh, you. Perfect old you. 

The walk back to his room is filled with Atsumu stomping through the halls. He flings the door open so hard that the bang on the wall is enough to startle some birds outside. Thank goodness he’s home alone. Atsumu flops down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is a little bigger now that you’re gone. 

Before he can do anything rash, he puts a pillow over his face, and smashes. Hard. Atsumu roars a guttural sound into the pillow, the inferno from before being let loose into the soft cotton. There’s a dragon poster beside his closet. Maybe he was really turning into one, with all the fire in his head and heart. 

It would be kind of cool if he was a dragon, he said to you once during second grade. Then he could burn all those kids on the playground that said Atsumu was dumb for still liking Power Rangers. Atsumu chuckled lowly at his past statement.

At least dragons didn’t have to worry about pointless feelings. 

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[punkiepunzyl]

BLADE TO THE PULSE-

RZ!Michael Myers x Reader

Chapter 1:

Volunteer Hours Be Damned

—————————————————

1.de·lu·sion·al

/dəˈlo͞oZH(ə)nəl/

adjective

* characterized by or holding idiosyncratic beliefs or impressions that are contradicted by reality or rational argument, typically as a symptom of mental disorder.

2.psy·chot·ic

/sīˈkädik/

adjective

* psychotic

relating to, denoting, or suffering from a psychosis.

———————————————————

The first is even worst than the second

Because the second has the gall to be cruel when venting

The first is idiotic at best and naive at worst-

At least with the second you know it's only a matter of time

Before they burst...

———————————————————

"Yeah Mom, I know...I won't-ok...l-love you too. B-." Dial tone followed the abrupt ending to a call that had barely begun. Sighing I glanced up at the neon clock that dimly illuminated my half of the dorm room that I shared with my roommate Kat.

3:49 A.M.

'Why do I want to be a veterinarian again?' Groaning I let my head flop against the clammy light oak wood desk that was provided by the college- and immediately regretted the decision to be so reckless with my body as the tender tissue of my forehead throbbed violently.

"Fucking midterms," I whimpered'"I should've planned better for this." It wasn't that I didn't know the material- I knew it very well- it was my fragile 3.65 GPA, that was hanging in the balance, along with all of my scholarships.

Now here I was at- I glanced back up at the clock-

3:56 A.M.

On a Sunday night.

Suddenly tears of frustration pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I quickly pressed the heels of palms against my lids, because if I started crying now- I wouldn't be able to stop.

I glared at three textbooks spread out on the desk, that were equally judging me in their own way.

"Fuck it."

Dejectedly I closed my books and put them away in my backpack and decided to get ready for bed.

Shuffling sleepily across the 625 sq foot room I trudged past the shared area in the room and noticed the tv was still on, and began rummaging around attempting to locate the remote to turn off the waste of electricity; when then news report for earlier that night began to replay:

"Tonight, the small town of Haddonfield holds vigil for Judith Myers birthday. Judith Myers was 17 years old when she was killed by her 10 year old brother Michael Myers. Some 15 years later the community is still on shock. Judy would've been 32 this year. Michael is now 25 years old and is being held at the Smith's Grove Sanitarium-where he will live out the rest of his lif-"

Losing interest I turned of the tv (I heard about Michael every damn day from my mother), I resumed my nightly ritual of showering- dealing with my hair and picking out my outfit for next the next morning. When I did finally make it to my bed- the fatigue I'd been so keenly keeping at bay, washed over me and gently suffocated be down into the world of sleep.

———————————————————

1 WEEK LATER

———————————————————

Midterms went by smoother than anticipated and I felt a weight lift of my chest, as I made my way around campus. My biology professor Mrs. Whelhers had asked to speak with me regarding a matter for my thesis. And lack of volunteer hours. I looked up at the cloudless sky and sun filled my already impaired vision as I sped walked to the labs, certain that someone was going to jump me for walking alone. My rather feverish anxiousness seemed to roll over me in waves and I clung tighter to my leather crossbody messenger bag that was already digging painfully into my shoulder- the strap taut with the weight of my textbooks.

Luckily I finished my journey completely unscathed- and made my way over to my professors office.

"Mrs.Whelers?" I quietly knocked on the door before calling out again. "It's (Y/N)! You said you needed to speak to me regarding my thesis! I can come back if n-"

Mid sentence the door swung open to reveal a very VERY hungover Mrs.Whelers. I simply stared at her, dumbfounded as I attempted to make sense of her disheveled appearance.

She had heavy purple bags under her eyes- which were rimmed a violent red around her amber irises. Her usually neat strawberry blonde hair looked it was attacked by birds on her way to work, and as for her clothes the were wrinkled. I'd spotted more than on fraying hem and food stain along her skirt and sleeves of her chiffon blouse.

"M-Mrs.Wheler? Are you all right?" I murmured then proceeded to reiterate

What I'd stupidly said a few moments before. "If now isn't a good time for you I would gladly come back another day."

But deep down I also knew that my thesis would be due within the next 5 months and therefore I really couldn't dodge around whatever necessary information she had for me. Especially if it had to do with my volunteering.

Instead the 60 year old woman shook her head and gestured for me to enter the office and waved with a shaky left hand- her wedding ring gleaming in the sunlight that lazily drifted through the tall windows in her office.

Mrs.Whelers began speaking as she sat down, but her words fell on distracted,deaf ears. I'd begun drinking the appearance of the office, all rich maple built in that showed hints of a reddish glow under their glossy finish. 

My professor sighed heavily and immediately I was snapped out of my little trance. My eyes blurred, suddenly watery and after blinking hard to avoid a wave of exhaustion- they refocused with the  precision of a camera lens behind my harsh prescription glasses. 

"I-I'm sorry, could you repeat that...I was a bit caught up in a thought." I mumbled embarrassed that I'd allowed myself to be distracted so easily. Mrs.Whelers looked me up and down cautiously, her eyes narrowing slightly as though she was trying to read the fine print on a document. I stared back at her sheepishly, eyes meeting hers then flitting away nervously. 

I've always been this way when it came to eye contact- skittish and desperate to get away from it. If someone stares at me for too long- I begin to sweat profusely, nausea washing over me like a tsunami...then suddenly my skin feels like its on fire and I'll attempt to find anything on my body to pick at; my face, my arms, my nails, and by the end of it all I'm covered in nicks and scars from my own impulsiveness.

"I was saying Ms.(Y/L/N), that the volunteer hours needed along side your associates thesis are incomplete. Failure to complete said volunteer hours will result in the inability to graduate this upcoming June with the rest of class. More importantly- you will have to redo this past semester, out of your own pocket, your scholarship won't cover you."

"But that'a completely unfair!" I began to protest jumping up almost instantaneously. "I couldn't find the proper volunteer work, every clinic in a 50 mile radius was full for the next THREE MONTHS! I tried every which way possible to squeeze in somewhere; no exceptions could be made!" 

"Unfortunately Ms.(Y/L/N) that isn't my problem- you either find a way to make up the time- in a way that would be approved by the school, or you don't graduate this June. That's final." 

I felt tears swell in my eyes and rushed to grab my bag; I had every intention to run out the door before Mrs.Whelers put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. 

"I didn't call you here to be the bearer of bad news, I wanted to talk about what options you may have; that have been pre-approved by the board..."

I sniffled sitting back down in the white leather arm chair that was seated in front of Mrs.Whelers’ desk. "You already spoke to the board?"

"Yes, they were quite curious as to why a student that has managed to be in the top of her class the past two years, hasn't completed something as simple as her volunteer hours. They realized rather quickly it must've had something to do with the availably of hours, and came up with another idea."

I glanced up at her curiously, "Which is?"

She began to pace around behind her desk as she spoke,"Well considering spring break begins at the end of this Friday- and you will be home for the next week-"

I opened my mouth to tell her there where no clinics back at home that did volunteer work for college students-but she waved a hand dismissively before I could.

"We at the board decided that we would like for you start a branch of animal therapy at Smith's Grove, we know your mother works- so she could be a guide to helping you with patients at first, but this could look really good for your transcripts. What do you think?"

I considered the offer momentarily- I knew getting Mother to agree wouldn't be an issue in the slightest- she’d been trying to get me to work with her at Smith’s for years...

“I could speak to her about it.” I said definitively then added “I’ll email you if she approves of the arrangement.” With a soft smile I moved once more to grab my messenger crossbody and sling it over my shoulder.

“Should your mother accept the boards offer for your volunteer hours I will message to board directly on your behalf, alright?” Mrs. Whelers said leading me to the door. As she opened it I nodded as I passed by- relieved that this problem would most likely have a solution and as long as I completed my 100 hours of volunteer work in the next week, my scholarship and graduation that lie a few months ahead will be safe...

“Have a good spring break (Y/N)!”

“You too Mrs.Whelers...”

Volunteer hours be damned...

***********************************************

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of Blade to the Pulse ☺️. I already have the next few chapters planned so expect an update within the next week or two...

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Possessed Part 2 Chapter Eight: Free?

He woke up slowly, feeling groggy and heavy. He hated it already and wasn’t in the mood for it. So he rolled over and… fell of whatever he’d been lying on.

Suddenly very much awake, his eyes flew open as he landed on the floor. Thankfully the fall had been short because it was uncarpeted concrete. Awake now, whether he liked it or not, he took a deep breath as he sat up to examine his surroundings.

It was a small room that almost resembled a living room. He’d been lying on the couch in the middle of the room that faced an old coffee table that supported and even older looking TV. Those were the only items in the room other than for a flashlight on the coffee table and a chair placed by the couch. It was from E. Gadd’s lab, meaning this room was probably one of the back rooms that acted as E. Gadd’s living space. Given that, it was unsurprising how sparse the room was, E. Gadd wouldn’t be spending much time in it.

Speaking of the lab though, it was the last thing he remembered. He’d been strapped into the KBE, the door had closed and then… nothing. … Had it worked? …

His mind was quiet; no thoughts but his own, no internal voice but his own, no emotions but his own, and most of all no contention between himself and another being. It was just him alone in his mind and it was amazing. Peace and quiet at long last, he’d forgotten what that was like. … There was a problem though.

Using the couch’s armrest, he pulled himself up to his feet. He then looked down at his hands and body; the meatsuit. It felt both right and wrong to have it even if he was used to it by now. … If the KBE had worked, he was supposed to be a free-floating ghost again, right? … No, actually this was right, he was still alive and it was his body and it was finally entirely his again as it should be. … Both of those couldn’t be true and yet they were meaning… … … …

“It failed,” he mumbled aloud to himself, unable to stop staring at his hands. E. Gadd had warned that it might pull their souls closer instead. He was both King Boo and Luigi and while also neither of them. Try as he might he couldn’t find any separation between them in his mind. Their souls had merged into one and that soul was his.

With a heavy sigh, he flopped back onto the couch. He wanted to be angry about this and kind of was but also… his mind was so quiet. No anger but his own, no fear but his own, no fighting with words or for control, no one leeching off his magic anymore, it was finally just his again, just as his body was solely his own again as well. This wasn’t the outcome either side of him had wanted but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it’d be. … Both Luigi and King Boo would’ve been horrified and disgusted by it but he didn’t care.

What now though? What kind of existence would he have now? Who exactly was he? He needed a new name for sure, right? Neither ‘Luigi’ or ‘King Boo’ felt right anymore. And… he needed to tell people.

How would the boos react? How would Mario react? What about E. Gadd and Gooigi? Or Peach? Was he still technically king of the Boo Kingdom? Would they want him as their king still? … Would he be abandoned by everyone he’d ever loved?

With an angry growl he stood up and physically shook those thoughts away. He wouldn’t know how they all felt about him now until he told them and if they all didn’t like him and/or didn’t want to follow him anymore then… so be it. He couldn’t blame them for that given the circumstances and he wasn’t pathetic and whiny anymore so he’d deal with it… or he’d try to at least.

Before his thoughts could spiral any further, he stood back up and located the door that probably led back to the lab. He strode over to it and carefully opened to peek through.

Yep, it was E. Gadd’s lab all right. And E. Gadd was in. His back was to King Boo/Luigi as he worked on the KBE. Its paneling was open and he was digging around its insides with the help of Gooigi’s flashlight.

Silently as possible, Luigi/King Boo stepped through the door and gently closed it behind him. He crept over until he was right behind E. Gadd and Gooigi, still unnoticed. “Boo!” he shouted, loudly clapping his hands together as well.

E. Gadd startled, making an undignified yelp of surprise before he snapped around. Gooigi didn’t flinch – disappointing but not surprising –they did turn around as well though.

“Luigi!” E. Gadd said, holding a hand to his chest as he let out a breath. “Or I guess King Boo, don’t do that. But uh… you’re finally awake. It’s been…” he glanced at his wrist watch, “almost twenty-four hours now. We were starting to get worried.”

He clearly didn’t know how badly his machine had failed so… “What happened?”

“Well the KBE failed obviously and in doing so it drew too much power and almost exploded. The power surge fried pretty much everything else too, I just got the power back on a few hours ago. The KBE is in a poor state now as you can see but I’m confident that I can get it working again in a day or two and improve it so that it has a higher chance of working this time. So uh… don’t worry Luigi, you’ll be free of King Boo soon still, just a few more days.” He wasn’t very good at being comforting but he was trying and that was nice. Too bad it was for nothing though.

“Don’t bother, you’ll just be wasting your time.” There was no way this could be undone.

E. Gadd had started to turn back to his work but froze. “What do mean?”

“I’ll say it like this: you’re prediction was right, my kindness does outweigh my bloodlust,” in this instance anyway, he doubted that would always be the case, “and thus I have no desire to kill you even if I am mad at you for failing.”

For a second or two E. Gadd looked confused but then with a small gasp it seemed to click. He opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out.

It was Gooigi that broke the silence with an “Uh-oh.” Their face was expressionless as always but their voice was distraught.

“Yeah, ‘uh-oh’, indeed,” King Boo/Luigi said with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” E. Gadd finally found his voice. “I… didn’t… I failed… I’m sorry.” He looked away, pulling his arms in on himself. He was far more upset than Luigi or King Boo had ever seen him before. … There was no excitement about the potential test subject he’d just got; he really did care more for Luigi than his ghost studies. That had already been made pretty clear but… the full confirmation of it was something else entirely. Luigi had had a good friend.

“It’s uh… really not so bad.” Luigi/King Boo forced a smile for him. “My mind is finally at peace. No more pathetic whining and whimpering and no more being hurt or tormented with literally no escape. It’s finally over. This is far better than staying as two separate minds stuck in the same body.”

E. Gadd’s shoulders slumped. “I know but… you deserved better. I thought I could fix it but… I guess not.”

This was the worst. How was one supposed to comfort someone when it was their own existence that was the problem? It was impossible, wasn’t it? So… “Where’s Mario?” he asked because he needed to get the whole telling everyone he cared about that he was a combination of someone they loved and someone they hated before he could figure out what to do next. He wasn’t looking forward to it and part of him would prefer to hide from everyone and everything instead. He’d never liked being a coward and now he just hated it more.

“I sent him out to take Polterpup for a walk,” E. Gadd answered as he abandoned the KBE to sit at his desk instead. Gooigi just sat down on the floor where they were already. “He wouldn’t sleep and he’s been hovering around you a lot so I figured some fresh air would do him some good. He should be back soon though.”

With nothing more to say to either him or Gooigi, Luigi/King Boo strode out to wait in the front part of the lab. He thankfully didn’t have to wait long, not even five minutes passed before the door opened and Polterpup came bounding in following shortly after by Mario.

“Puppy,” King Boo/Luigi greeted Polterpup as he came running up for a pet.

“Luigi?” Mario said, his voice full of worry and hope, making it impossible to stay focusing on Polterpup. Oh gosh, there were bags under his eyes too, he indeed clearly hadn’t slept. “How do you feel?”

“Not too bad actually.”

“Oh, that’s good. E. Gadd said that he can fix the KBE pretty fast and that next time it should work so don’t…”

“There won’t be a next time,” King Boo/Luigi interrupted. “It’d be a waste of time.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Luigi and King Boo have become one person and that person is me.” He pointed to himself, putting on a slight smirk to hide his true feelings about revealing this. “I doubt it can be undone at this point so refer to me as… ‘Booigi’ should do for now. I might change it later but I need a new name, a combination of my two old ones isn’t a bad choice.”

The despair that took over Mario’s face as those words sunk in would’ve greatly pleased King Boo but King Boo’s hate for him had never been as strong as Luigi’s love. As a whole, the stronger feeling won over, leaving Booigi feeling kind of awful.

The silence stretched as Booigi waited for Mario to say something. He didn’t though, instead he just looked at Booigi, tired and… sad; grieving.

“I’m sorry,” Booigi finally said, letting his shoulders slump. He didn’t want to show weakness but caring for someone wasn’t weak, right? “For what it’s worth though, this is far better than what I was going through before. For both my halves honestly but especially the half of me that is Luigi. I’m not suffering anymore, that’s good, right?” Right now, it was enough for him.

Mario thought about it for a few long seconds before slowly nodding. “Yeah, that’s better then… what he was going through before. But… but… it’s just wrong. How could that… happen? I was supposed to… protect him and now…” he trailed off with a vague hand gesture, not even looking at Booigi anymore.

“You need some sleep. What me to take you home?” He needed to go see the boos and ghosts that had followed King Boo for countless years now and tell them the news too but he could take some time to drive Mario home at least.

Mario mumbled something unintelligible in response. With a sigh, Booigi decided to take it as assent. He put a hand on Mario’s shoulder to guide him back out the door.

“You want to come too puppy?” he asked, pausing with the door open to look back at Polterpup. “Come back to where you belong and stop being a traitor?” Ghost animals were rare so he’d be very welcome back at the mansion.

Polterpup whined and got up but it was only to run in a little circle before sitting down again. He probably hadn’t understood the offer but regardless, he clearly wanted to stay here.

“All right, take good care of E. Gadd and Gooigi for me then.”

 -

Mario was asleep long before Booigi pulled up into the driveway of his house. Not wanting to bother with carrying him, Booigi levitated him into the house and to his bed instead. Using the same magic, he even pulled off his shoes and tucked him in. Hopefully he’d sleep for a long time and wake up feeling a bit better about all this… probably not though.

Before leaving, Booigi popped back into Luigi’s old room to gather his clothes and the L hat that had appeared on the bedside table overnight one night. King Boo hadn’t liked it and thus they hadn’t worn it ever but even if it didn’t match his sense of style, Booigi wanted to keep it for old time’s sake.

 -

Luigi’s fear of the haunted woods and King Boo’s enjoyment of them combined into a peculiar feeling. It was kind of like fear but the kind of fear one got while enjoying a horror movie; not necessarily pleasant but not at all bad either. Overall, Booigi would say he liked them but he wouldn’t want to spend a long time in them.

What he didn’t like though was the jump-scare he got when a group of boos jumped out into his path. He flinched and jumped back a little before he could reign it in, ugh! Thankfully the boos didn’t seem to notice as they launched right into talking to him.

“You’re back boss!”

“And you’re still in Luigi!”

“We heard about the soul merging thing does this mean that… that happened?”

“It can’t have happened, right? What would we do without you?”

“You’re just here to turn him into a painting, right? Like how you were going…”

“Hush,” Booigi cut in, needing to only raise his voice a little to make them all fall silent immediately. “That’s what I’m here to discuss with you. Gather everyone currently around just outside the mansion.”

Most of the boos seemed to relax, a few seemed to gather that something was wrong though as their worried expressions deepened. All of them obeyed though, quickly scattering.

With a sigh, Booigi continued on. Just telling E. Gadd and Mario had been bad, now he had to tell all his followers. Would they still want to follow him? … Did he still even want to lead them? … Yes, how much King Boo cared for them, dampened the remaining dregs of Luigi’s fear of them. And he still had ambition, not as much as King Boo had for sure, but he wouldn’t be content wondering around doing nothing. He was going to accomplish things, he just didn’t know what anymore.

By the time he reached the mansion, many ghosts had already gathered just outside it, waiting for him. He levitated himself up to float above them all, putting himself in a relaxed posture that he did his best to make look not forced. All their murmuring quieted as everyone turned to look at him. He didn’t say anything yet though, more were still coming.

He hid his not so newfound nervousness well when he did finally address them a short time later when it seemed everyone around was present. “All of you have heard about my situation by now I’m sure.” King Boo had made sure of that. “Every attempt to fix it has failed and now I exist; half your King Boo and half Luigi.”

Audible gasps of course answered that followed by many bursting into questions. There were so many talking at once it was impossible to pick out any one voice.

“Hush.” He had to raise his voice a bit louder this time but it still mostly worked, there were still a few murmurs. “I really don’t know how to proceed from here but…” But what? He hadn’t really planned this speech out, trusting that it would just come to him. That’s how King Boo had always done speeches, apparently that ability didn’t carry over. “… but… you guys still need a king; I could still be that if everyone’s all right with it.”

He could just about kick himself for how he’d worded that, making it almost sound like a meek request. But their opinion was important, he’d never had to enforce his rule with violence and wouldn’t do so now. If they didn’t want him as their ruler anymore, he’d just have to deal with it.

The crowd erupted into more talking. Everyone was concerned and wanted to have a say about something or ask a question. None of it was helpful though, especially with it all being thrown out at once.

“You have a month to decide if you still think I’m fit to rule, then we’ll hold a vote.” He had to use to magic to make his voice louder now so he could be heard over the crowd. “For now, I have some stuff I need to attend to privately.”

And with that, he fled. He tried to disguise it as merely leaving but… he was fleeing and he hated it. He had a lot to think about though, the kind best done in private. Like who was he now? Was Mario still his brother? E. Gadd his friend? What about his boos, did he still have a right to be their king when he was only half dead? What did he even want now? He didn’t know but he intended to find out.

~

I thought long and hard about doing two endings; this one and one where the KBE works and they're free. I decided to just go with this one because it's what felt the most right for the story. However if y'all want me to, I could see what I can do about writing an alternate happy ending too. It wouldn't be much of a bother at all, I do have some pretty solid ideas for one.

And I might already be writing a thing that leads to a happier ending. It's a split path thing though, not an alternate ending. It splits at the end of part 1 and goes in a drastically different direction. I don't know when it'll be done though because I only have the 1st chapter written and I have no clue how long it's gonna be because I have no clue what all even happens in it. So that's gonna be a thing maybe eventually, we'll see.

[cosmic-goddess-leo]

First Love / Late Spring Pt. 2

Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Series Summary: Reader was once a nationally recognized volleyball player until an injury she suffered her last year of high school. She and Kuroo knew each other vaguely through a mutual friend but lost contact after her injury. Now they attend the same University in Tokyo and are beginning to reconnect.

Chapter Summary: Kuroo and (Y/n) find something they have in common. Kuroo attends his first college party.

Word Count: 3263

Author’s Note: Here’s chapter 2! Thanks so much for reading and leaving messages, it means a lot to get positive feedback from everyone! Ps. I swear I don’t hate Bokuto, I just love drama.

It was only 4 and Kuroo was already exhausted.

He had mentally prepared himself enough energy to get through all his classes for the day, but not to run into (Y/n).

His day peaked when he got her number, now it was all downhill.

Or so he thought.

“This seat taken?”

Kuroo looked up at the owner of the voice, smirking when he realized it was (Y/n).

“First and last class of the day together, huh?” he mused, making room for her to sit beside him.

“Guess so, we have any other gen-eds together?” she asked, flopping onto the empty chair.

Kuroo pulled his planner out of his messenger bag, flipping it open to the page containing his class schedule. Despite what others would think, Kuroo was a very organized person.

(Y/n) leaned closer, tracing her finger over the multiple classes, times and locations. “Looks like we have another two together tomorrow.”

“Stalkerrrr~” Kuroo sang, earning a pinch to his arm.

“You wish.” (Y/n) countered.

“Maybe so.”

Shit. Was that out loud?

Thankfully (Y/n) laughed rather than pepper-spraying him and running away.

“Guess I didn’t need to sharpie my phone number onto your hand then...” she trailed off, clearly embarrassed.

“Your handwriting is nice enough. I figured it was an excuse to hold my very soft, very warm hand,” he shrugged.

“I already had your jacket,” (Y/n) smiled, “Why would I need any other sources of warmth?”

Kuroo tilted his head at her, flashing her another smirk, “Loneliness.”

Before she could reply, their professor entered the room and began the lecture.

At least he was being his usual brand of cool and collected rather than tripping all over himself like some sap.

The two exchanged a couple notes here and there, mostly joking about the professor and the typos they spotted in the syllabus.

Kuroo had to stifle his laughter when (Y/n) highlighted and underlined a section of the syllabus saying there would be no note passing in class. Every time Kuroo would write a new note, she would shoot him a playful glare while pointing at the section.

5:15 finally rolled around and the two darted out of the classroom like bats out of hell.

“God, he talked so slow.” Kuroo groaned.

“He’s an old man,” (Y/n) said, defending the professor, “But also, I know I’m gonna fall asleep in that class sometime this semester.”

Kuroo chuckled and adjusted his messenger bag as they left the building.

The rain had stopped hours ago, shifting into a light mist.

“So what building are you in now?”

“Oh, that was actually my last class of the day, I was just going to head home.” (Y/n) said. She made a move to unzip the jacket, but Kuroo lightly flicked her hand away.

“I’m done for the day too, how about I walk you home?” Too wholesome. “You can continue stealing my jacket until we get there.” Better.

(Y/n) smiled and looked down at her feet, trying to avoid small puddles along the sidewalk. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you...”

“I can always use the exercise,” he said, “just lead the way.”

As the two walked through campus, they continued talking about their classes and first impressions on their new classmates, as well as what was going on with old classmates. 

Kuroo was in the middle of telling (Y/n) about how Kenma was at a different university in Tokyo when (Y/n) almost fell forward.

“Is this man kidnapping you?!” Bokuto yelled, hugging (Y/n) from behind and causing her to lose her balance. 

Kuroo chuckled awkwardly as (Y/n) wrestled to get Bokuto off of her. A couple students passing by looked on, slightly concerned.

“God, you’re such a spaz! Stop!” She squealed, regaining her balance once Bokuto released her.

“Kuroo’s here too!” Bokuto announced to himself, “It’s really a small world after all!”

“Sure is, buddy...” Kuroo said, allowing Bokuto to give him a quick hug.

“Where are you two headed?” he asked, pulling out of the hug and glancing between the two.

“I was actually just walking (Y/n) home.” Kuroo admitted, watching (Y/n) shift around in place through the corner of his eye.

“Ooooh, I’ll join you! What kind of bestie would I be if I didn’t accompany you two!” Bokuto latched onto (Y/n)’s arm in the blink of an eye, taking hold of her hand and lacing his fingers with hers.

Kuroo opted to remain on the opposite side of (Y/n) for the rest of their walk. If he were on the other side, Bokuto would be sandwiched between the two of them, making Kuroo feel even more awkward.

About halfway through the walk, Kuroo began to recognize the route they were taking to (Y/n)’s apartment. Once they stopped on front of the building, Kuroo felt his stomach do a backflip.

“This is me!” (Y/n) said, motioning to the large complex.

“I guess that means it’s just me and Kuroo now.” Bokuto said, turning towards Kuroo.

“Actually, this is my building too...” Kuroo trailed off, looking from the floor he lived on to (Y/n).

“No way! That’s so crazy!” Bokuto laughed.

(Y/n) smiled before giving Bokuto a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

“See you tomorrow! Bye Kuroo!” Bokuto allowed (Y/n) to pull out of the hug before waving goodbye to the two and walking off.

They didn’t speak until they entered the complex

“So... you two are still close, huh?” Kuroo asked, following (Y/n) to the elevator.

She nodded, sighing softly as she pressed the elevator button. “Yeah... he was really great when I got injured and all. That’s not really the kind of friend you let go of...”

Kuroo could sense a somber tone to her voice but didn’t want to pry for any details that would be too personal.

Before he was even given the opportunity, the two reached for the same floor button, looking at each other in disbelief once they had pressed it.

“There’s no way we live on the same floor and haven’t seen each other by now...” (Y/n) said, shaking her head.

“When did you move in? I got in about 2 weeks ago.”

“A month ago...” (Y/n) replied.

Once they reached their floor, they walked in the same direction down the hall, stopping at their doors... right beside each other.

Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, it was all too bizarre and convenient, like they were living out some drama on tv.

“It really is a small world, huh?” Kuroo snickered.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes at him, unlocking her door and propping it open with her foot. “Lemme put my stuff down so I can give you back your jacket.”

“No no, maybe you should hold onto it.” Kuroo smiled, leaning against his own door. “It suits you...”

The slight tint to (Y/n)’s cheeks made Kuroo smirk and watching her begin to fidget with one of the long sleeves was the cherry on top of the interaction.

“Thank you... you’re really working to get that party invite huh?”

“Maybe so,” he chuckled, “better than just sitting next-door and listening to it.”

“I’ll text you then... See you tomorrow, Kuroo.”

Kuroo watched her retreat into her apartment before entering his own. He went from hardly ever speaking to her to suddenly being her neighbor WITH 4 classes together. AND an invitation to her next party... whenever that would be.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/n)’s party came sooner than expected. After the first week of classes to be exact.

The text she had sent to Kuroo claimed it was to celebrate their first week of “the rest of their lives.”

It sounded cheesy, but it was an excuse to drink.

-Is there a theme?

(Y/n) gave Kuroo a deadpan look after reading the note he had scribbled on her journal before writing back.

-It’s not Halloween or Valentine’s Day...so no

-Tsk Tsk every good party has a theme

-The theme is don't get hungover

Kuroo snickered quietly, lightly nudging (Y/n)’s elbow with his own.

Once class was dismissed, the two began packing their bags.

“Are you going to need any help setting up?” he asked, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“I think I got it, I got the drinks, I’m gonna order us pizza, and my flat is pretty much all clean. I just need to get my homework done before it starts.”

Kuroo huffed under his breath something about homework being for after the party and during the hangovers.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes playfully, lightly taking hold of the sleeve of Kuroo’s flannel and leading him out of the building.

“If you really wanna help you can come over and help me out with the short essay we just got assigned.” she offered.

“You always brag about how great you are at writing essays, yet here you are! Asking for my help,” he scoffed.

“Hey, I’m only offering since you’re obviously dyyyying for my attention.”

Well, she had him there.

Kuroo masked his embarrassment with another scoff. “Well I’d rather be helping a pretty girl prepare for her party than sit alone in my apartment, WAITING for the pretty girl’s party... but I guess I can settle for helping you with your essay.”

“You sound like Bokuto,” she grumbled, “I can barely handle one of him as it is.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at her, “I sound like him because we both think you’re pretty?”

“No, you’re both difficult...” (Y/n) sighed, adjusting her bag. “And I don't think he thinks I’m pretty.”

Kuroo scoffed, combing his fingers through his hair. “He looks like he’s smitten every time he’s around you...”

Kuroo wasn’t sure if he had hit a sore spot or not. He figured he would have to bring up the elephant in the room at some point.

“Men... are unreadable.” was (Y/n)’s only reply.

“Some women like a man who is mysterious.” He smirked down at her, wiggling his eyebrows slightly and earning a giggle from her.

“Mystery is hot and all, but sometimes you need someone straightforward... we’ve been kinda dancing around each other since I moved to Japan with my dad... A game of cat and mouse is fun, but... sometimes the cat AND the mouse just need a break-”

Kuroo suddenly pulled (Y/n)’s body against his. Once her head made contact with his chest, she realized she was about to walk into the middle of the road as traffic whizzed past them.

(Y/n) slowly looked up at him, and it took all of Kuroo’s will power not to look back at her. Instead he watched the traffic until the pedestrian walk sign flashed on.

He reluctantly released his grip on her, finally taking the chance to meet her gaze. (Y/n) gave him a small, grateful smile.

She then took hold of his flannel sleeve and continued walking with him, chatting the whole way home.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kuroo wasn’t sure why (Y/n) felt the need to change after they finished their work, he sure wasn’t going to. Now that he thought of it, maybe the party was supposed to be nicer than he thought. He looked down at himself; his jeans were nice enough, the flannel was new, and he couldn’t do much about the black t-shirt he was wearing underneath.

Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe he should brush his hair. Why is this woman making me question my fashion?!

All she changed into was a t-shirt and a skirt, nothing too fancy. Though her thigh high socks did give off a classy/sexy vibe that Kuroo was feeling.

Guests began arriving, making the apartment more and more noisy. (Y/n) said it would only be a small crowd of close friends, but apparently those close friends invited their close friends. 

The only person Kuroo thought to invite was Kenma, and even then, that was one person who did enough speaking for half a person.

(Y/n) was off, being a good host, while Kuroo was left to his own devices. Despite the number of women at the party who approached him, trying to get his attention, he would say something along the lines of ‘looking for (Y/n)’ and that would send them on their way.

He eventually took a seat beside Kenma on the couch, taking the drink Kenma had been watching for him and chugging it down.

He grimaced and set the empty cup aside.

“Why did you offer to help finish off her vodka when you know you’re not a fan?” Kenma sighed, keeping his eyes on the movie (Y/n) had put on for ‘background noise.’

“Because, she looked very distraught when she told me how her mom sent it over but she could never get through it.” Kuroo replied, looking around the crowd.

“Just take it easy and drink water. That looks enough like vodka.” was Kenma’s simple suggestion. “Or maybe you should just grin and bear it.”

“Why do you say that?” Kuroo asked, turning to look at his friend.

“Well,” he pointed into the crowd, “your girlfriend is dancing over there. And we all know you don’t dance... willingly. So, you should get over there before she fades into the crowd again.”

Kuroo rubbed a hand over his face, feeling a small sense of dread flood his brain. He took the drink Kenma had been nursing, took a swig, then handed it back to him before getting up and maneuvering through the crowd. 

He tapped her shoulder, narrowly dodging her body as she whipped around to face him. 

“You’ve been looking for me?” she asked, leaning towards him slightly and resting her hands on his forearms.

He looked at her, clearly confused.

She smiled, pulling him closer, “Like 10 different people told me you were trying to find me.”

Fuck. Of course.

“I just wanted to make sure we didn’t have any party crashers...?” He fibbed, keeping his feet planted firmly on the floor as (Y/n) attempted pulling him into the small group of dancers.

“Oh, I don’t know some of them yeah, but... whatever keeps you occupied right?”

She sounded unsure of herself. What little glances Kuroo caught of her throughout the night was when she was double checking her bedroom door was locked.

“Why don’t you dance with me?” she whined, swinging his arms slightly.

“O-oh, I’m not really a dancer. I prefer to watch.” He coughed.

“I’ll show you then,” she insisted.

Thankfully, her dancing wasn’t anything really provocative. It was a little all over the place, full of spins and twirls, something fun that Kuroo didn’t really have to try too hard with. The best part was getting to pull (Y/n) flush against him after each twirl. The way she’d laugh and place her hands on his chest was intoxicating.

The moment was cut short as (Y/n) pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket. She apologized to Kuroo before leaving to answer the door.

Kuroo returned to the couch beside Kenma, watching as (Y/n) let Akaashi in. He said something to her that made her expression turn sour. She quickly put on a happy face before hugging him and ushering him into the apartment.

Akaashi, like anyone else, joined the few people he knew and accompanied Kuroo and Kenma on the couch.

Their greetings were short, as Kuroo was eager to know what he had said to (Y/n).

“Just that Bokuto was sad he couldn’t make it... Something came up.” Akaashi said, shaking his head slightly as he glanced around at the drink selection on the nearby table.

Kuroo stared off in the direction he last saw (Y/n), chewing on his lip as he thought of what he could say to bring her mood back up.

“She’s in her room. Go.” Kenma ordered, narrowing his eyes at Kuroo.

“I can’t just barge in there and-”

“Yes, you can. I’m sick of that dumb, kicked puppy look you have on your face right now. So get in there and say something sappy before I throw you in there myself.”

Kenma was hardly ever so forward about his frustrations with Kuroo. Even on Nekoma’s team he tended to keep grievances to himself unless he was pushed into doing otherwise.

Kuroo gulped before getting off the couch and rushing to the bedroom. The door was left slightly ajar, allowing Kuroo to hear (Y/n) on the other side.

She was either talking on the phone or in a one-sided argument. Either way, she was upset. Despite the loud music, she kept her voice low for fear of someone overhearing her.

“It’s either we don’t see enough of each other or we see each other too often. What do you want from me... Then you send Akaashi to give me the bad news instead of just texting me or calling me...”

She sighed deeply, hugging herself with her free arm.

“You always say that... you always say the timing is bad. Then you act like everything is fine, like we’re still teenagers making out under the bleachers...”

(Y/n) suddenly picked up her head, the hand holding her phone shaking slightly.

“Well don’t let me stop you from having a good time. Just don’t try calling me when you’re done.”

Kuroo watched the phone get tossed onto the dresser adjacent to the bed. He could hear a loud thump as (Y/n) flopped onto her bed.

He waited a moment before knocking on the door. It took (Y/n) a moment to respond and give him permission to enter.

He peeked inside first, waiting for her to motion fo him to come closer.

Sitting at the edge of her bed, he gently brushed his knuckles over her shoulder, frowning as she practically ignored his touch.

“Everything okay...?”

(Y/n) quickly nodded her head, sniffling softly.

“Are you sure...?”

(Y/n) paused before shaking her head.

“Do you want to be alone-”

“No.” She quickly interjected. She bit her lip, slowly taking Kuroo’s hand off her shoulder and holding it in hers. “I just... I want the strangers out of my flat.”

Kuroo nodded, “I can ask them to leave in a bit... how about we get you some pizza?”

She shook her head once more, “I don’t want pizza... I want the biggest bowl of ramen I could get my hands on...”

He slowly smiled, scooting closer to her and giving her hand a small squeeze.

“I don’t know about the biggest bowl you can get your hands on, but there's a ramen shop close by that’s open late... It can just be us two, or we invite the few people here we know and go in a group... Anything you want.”

(Y/n) rested her head on Kuroo’s shoulder, seeming to relax against him. “That sounds perfect... Especially since I haven’t seen Akaashi in so long...”

It wouldn’t be just the two of them, but the first step to spending time alone with someone was spending time with them in a group setting. Yeah, that was comforting.

“We should go clear out the vagrants then.” he snickered, making a move to get off the bed.

(Y/n) gripped him tighter, lightly pulling him back onto the bed. “Can we stay here just a little longer?”

He silently nodded his head, giving her a comforting smile as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer.

Kuroo had no idea what Bokuto had said to her over the phone, but whatever it was left her in this rough state. He could talk to her about it once they returned from dinner, for now all he could do was ground her and hold her close.

[keen2meecha]

a creature of despair

There was a ghost haunting the streets of New Demington and everyone knew it.

Not a literal ghost. That would be much more convenient - and much less stressful. Ghosts could be caught, exorcised, shot with rock salt and sent back to wherever they belonged.

This ghost, though.

This ghost had yet to be seen, although the trail of bodies they left in their wake was unmistakable. Some with premortem wounds, some without - but all of them with their throats slashed from behind, and a length of purple ribbon left behind to cover the wound. It was a very specific calling card, but investigators had yet to determine the significance. And this had been going on for months.

Even Amadeus Black was pricklier than usual lately, and that was quite the feat. He was prickly on the best of days, but it took a lot to push him further.

And yet, despite the tension in the air and the worry on TV, Falks’ freshmen class remained as bright and oblivious as ever.

“We should go shopping!” Briony El-Hashem declared.

At the opposite end of the table, Kyran Cinege snorted as he speared his broccoli. Sure, he’d known since he stepped foot in this place that his classmates were idiots, but it was nice to have tangible proof. He looked up to catch Vera’s eye. She was an ice-cold bitch, but they had a certain understanding. She was a lot more tolerable than the others, for one thing. And she didn’t try to be his ‘friend’ - in fact, she seemed to migrate to his side most days specifically because he had no interest in friends.

She also didn’t talk, which meant she didn’t ask questions.

“What about you, dude?” Ibrahim asked eagerly, leaning closer to Kyran - and then immediately leaning back away at the sharp glare he got. “You in?”

“Of course I’m not fucking in!” Kyran snapped. “You’ve either got a goddamned death wish or your idiots - or, more likely, both.”

“Don’t be like that,” Dimas said, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll be however I fucking please. Unlike you imbeciles, I’m not taking my chances when there’s a damn Villain roaming the streets.”

“We don’t know they’re a Villain!” Larue protested immediately. “They could just be a serial killer!”

“Oh, right, yeah, that’s so much better - congrats, Strawberry! You’ve changed my mind!”

“It’ll be fun,” Rocco interrupted, and Kyran choked back a swear. “C’mon, please? We’ll make it worth your while!”

There was only one person who could possibly make it worth his while. He had red-hair and stupid pretty eyes and was currently pouting up at Kyran, said pretty eyes pleading with him. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking-

“Fine, whatever.” He grunted, tearing his eyes away from Rocco. “If it makes you assholes leave me alone for once.”

“You know we won’t! Hey, Vera, what about you?”

“No,” She said flatly, not even looking up from her book.

“Aw, come on, not you too! Please?”

Unfortunately, Vera didn’t have the same weakness that Kyran had. She gave Rocco a flat look, then returned to her book once more. Rocco wrinkled his nose at her, then returned to the others to help the planning of the apparent shopping trip.

Kyran scowled and flicked her book as he said, “Oy, Princess, if I’ve gotta suffer through this bullshit so do you.”

She gave him a flat look, then stood up, shouldered her backpack, and started to walk away. Kyran reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could get far.

“Let go of me,” She snapped, yanking her wrist out of his grip as whirled on him. He was out of his seat and standing across from her in a second, shoulders squared and hands raised. He had seen what she could do with her Gift. She wasn’t going to get the drop on him.

“Guys,” Elora protested uneasily from the table. 

“Shut up, Pinkie,” Kyran told her, not looking away from Vera. “You too, Glasses.”

Zahir snapped his mouth shut.

“I said. I’m not. Going.” Vera gritted out. Despite the tension in her jaw, her hands were loose by her sides.

“And I said you are,” Kyran countered, not letting his guard down that easily. “Because there’s a killer roaming the streets, and we’re pretty much the only ones who can keep these idiots alive if they really insist on leaving campus.”

There was a full tense minute as she stared him down. He was starting to wonder if she would just forgo the Gift and punch him in the nose-

And then she huffed, nodded, and left without another word.

“Was that a yes?” Ibrahim asked into the shocked silence.

 ***

“We’re going shopping this weekend,” Kyran announced suddenly.

Across from him, the devil herself blinked and adjusted her glasses.

“We were discussing your childhood?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got daddy issues, blah blah blah,” Kyran waved a dismissive hand. “Been there, done that, old news.”

“Alright.” Tuliana gave an infuriating smile. “Who all is we?”

“The whole class.”

“Including you?”

“Obv-fucking-iously.”

“Don’t make me get the swear jar out again, Kyran.”

“Obviously.”

“Why did you agree to go? I was under the impression that you hated everyone.”

“Dunno.” He flopped back in the cushy armchair and glared out the window.

“These sessions won’t do you any good if you stonewall me.”

He huffed and drew a frowny face on the icy window with his finger, then said, “I… thought I saw her. Yesterday. Up on those mountains or whatever.”

“It’s not… unheard of for people to think they’ve seen loved ones that they’ve lost.”

“So I’m not going crazy?”

“No, we’ve been over this.”

“Even though it’s been, like, a year?”

“There’s no timeline for grief. It happens differently for everyone.” When he didn’t say anything else, she jotted something down on her notebook and said, “Is that why you agreed to go? Because you think you’ll see her again?”

“No, that’d be stupid.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

He scowled and shot her a glare. The worst part was that her serene expression didn’t even waver. In the almost two months he’d been attending Falks, he’d managed to get under every adults’ skin except for two: the headmaster and Tuliana Nagi. The former simply because he hadn’t had enough opportunities, the latter because he was sure there were more annoying things in Hell than him.

So far, at least.

“Maybe…” He returned to the window. “Maybe because it’s what she would have done.”

“Gone shopping?”

“Protected them.”

There was a long beat of silence, then she sighed and rubbed at her eye. She did that sometimes. Their sessions were always at the end of the day, and he was pretty sure she had chronic dry-eye. Her eye drops were in her drawer, but she never used them while they were meeting. Probably because it was impolite or some shit.

“Kyran, it’s not your job to save everyone.”

“It will be soon.”

“Yes, after you’ve been trained.” She dropped her hand and leaned forward. He shifted uncomfortably, but couldn’t seem to break eye contact. “Kyran, you couldn’t have saved her.”

“If I hadn’t left her with him-”

“You didn’t leave him.” They had been through this so many times that she felt comfortable interrupting him, which was infuriating. “You got separated while the museum was collapsing.”

“What difference does it make?”

“You know that it makes all the difference.”

He snarled at her, but had nothing to say to that. She was - probably, unfortunately - right. But if he had just had the instinct to dive back, not forward, if they had lingered just a second longer, or sped up just a little-

“That kind of thinking won’t bring her back, Kyran.”

That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? 

Nothing was going to bring back the one friend he’d ever had.

***

The mall was way too big, and way too loud. The moment they stepped inside, he regretted agreeing to come along. 

It didn’t help that Vera was practically radiating smugness at his discomfort, even as she too winced at the light and the noise and the smell. The rest of their classmates barely seemed to notice the terrible everything of the hellhole posing as a mall. They laughed and shouted and went through store after store after store. Why did a mall even need five separate shoe stores? Wasn’t one enough?

“Capitalism,” Jerilyn whispered gravely to him when he voiced his complaint.

“Fuck that,” He replied, turning away.

“Dude, where are you going?” Ibrahim shouted.

“Anywhere that isn’t here!”

He made it all the way to the boba stand before he realized that he was being followed.

“Fuck off, Princess.”

“You dragged me on this trip,” She replied evenly. “Actions have consequences.”

It was the closest to sarcasm he’d ever heard her get, so he begrudgingly didn’t protest further. The ghost everyone was afraid of preferred secluded areas, after all. They wouldn’t strike in the middle of a brightly lit, crowded as hell building.

“Hi!” The Chinese girl behind the counter chirped at their approach. “What can I get you?”

“What’s good?” Kyran asked, scanning the menu and trying hard not to scowl. His classmates deserved his ire - retail workers didn’t.

“Depends on what you like - the lavender is pretty interesting.”

“Sure, that.”

“Great! And you, ma’am?”

“Er, same thing.”

The girl didn’t notice the hesitance as she put their orders into the computer, but Kyran glanced back as he passed her the money. He’d had his suspicions, of course, but every time she opened her mouth he grew more certain that the weirdo had never had a real childhood.

Maybe they could start a club.

“Here’s your change!” The girl said, dragging him out of his thoughts.

He turned and accepted the coins - and found his gaze drawn to her pin-laden denim jacket. More specifically, the white pin with the thick purple line in the middle.

“Nice pin,” He said, jutting his chin out towards it.

“Huh?” She glanced down, then beamed up at him with excitement. “Thanks!”

“I’ve got a friend who had something similar,” He added, his throat tightening as the words clawed their way out. 

“Oh, nice. I can give you the website that I got it from, if you want to buy them a present!”

“Uh, no, thanks. She hasn’t got much use for gifts anymore.”

The girl snorted, and then the man who was also working at the booth called, “Jing, come help me!” and she hurried away.

Kyran heaved a sigh, then turned to see Vera staring at him.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Nothing.” Unruffled as ever - she was almost as obnoxious as Tuliana. “I thought you didn’t have friends.”

“I don’t,” He snapped, already regretting the moment of weakness. At least Vera wasn’t the gossiping type. “Not anymore. What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

She said that, but she also kept stealing glances at him for the rest of their little shopping trip. By the time they left, just before the mall closed as the sun was setting below the horizon, he was ready to commit arson just for some kind of release.

The city buildings cast long shadows in the fading sunlight, and his classmates at least had the common sense to lower their voices as they walked. They were still in a populated part of the city, but they were fast-approaching that time where it was too late for the day crowd to still be heading home, but too early for the night crowd to start leaving home.

“Oh, hey, come on!” Briony said suddenly, her voice leaping half an octave in her excitement. “It’s a shortcut - it’ll get us to the nearest stop just in time for the next bus!”

“Wait, I’m not sure-” Zahir tried to protest, but she was already taking off down the darkened alleyway.

Kyran swore and took off after her, and the others followed close behind. 

Luckily she hadn’t gotten far - barely halfway down the alleyway before she stopped, apparently waiting for them to catch up.

“Do you want to fucking die?” He snapped, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her around to face him. “We need to stick together, or-”

“Well, well, well. Who is it that’s flown into my web this time?”

Or that.

Kyran shoved Briony behind him and pivoted, searching for the source of the crooning voice. It didn’t sound like it belonged to anyone much older or bigger than them, but it had just enough of an edge to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Oh, could it be?” The voice continued, dancing with delight. “A little herd of Falkers, out and about in the city? All alone, and so late at night - I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Who says we’re alone?” Kyran snarled, putting a hand out to keep his classmates from doing anything stupid. 

There was the sound of sharp metal scraping against stone undercutting a breathy, unsettlingly girlish giggle, and a figure stepped into what little light was left. 

They weren’t what Kyran was expecting. Short, shorter than him, wearing jeans and sneakers and a faded purple hoodie that was missing the sleeves, leaving the person’s brown arms bare. They could almost be mistaken for a normal teenager wandering the streets - albeit a fucking jacked one - if not for the machete in their outstretched hand, resting against the wall of the building. That explained the scraping noise, at least.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Zahir called, earning a hissed shut up from Kyran.

“You don’t?” The person asked, almost sounding disappointed. “But don’t you know? That’s all you Falkers are. Little troubles, that grow up to be big strong Heroic troubles.”

“Back the fuck off now,” Kyran snarled when they took a step forward, raising his free hand in preparation. An explosion in such a tight space wasn’t ideal, but if push came to shove it would be worth it. “And no one will get hurt.”

The person paused and tilted their head. He could see the faintest flash of clever dark eyes studying him. There was something about this person, something hauntingly familiar... 

“Why don’t we make a deal?” They crooned, pushing their hood back. 

They were wearing a paneled black mask over the entirety of the bottom half of their face, but that still left the top half of their face exposed. Golden brown eyes with heavy bags under them, freckles, their dark brown curls shaved in an undercut. A scar through their thick eyebrow. Kyran narrowed his eyes. It was right there, staring him in the face, why couldn’t he figure it out-

“You give me your jacket, and I’ll let you go.”

“My jacket?” He glanced down at the leather jacket he was wrapped up in, worn to comfortable softness and right on the edge of being too small. “No fucking way.”

“Kyran,” Ibrahim whispered urgently.

“I said no,” He snapped, lifting his hand a little higher and curling his finger into the beginnings of a flick. If they made even the slightest of moves, kaboom. “I’m not giving some whacko my jacket.”

“Oh, but it’s not your jacket, now is it?” They said softly, taking another step forward. They were within arm’s reach. He needed to use his Gift, or throw a punch, or run, or something - but he was paralyzed, mesmerized by those far-too-knowing eyes. “You stole it from your friend, didn’t you? That night in the hospital? You chased her out, blamed her for your own damn issues, and then stole the jacket she left behind?”

“How do you know that?” He whispered.

“Oh, I know all about you, Kruze Cinege.”

She - because the only person who would ever call him that was a ‘she’ - smiled and pulled the mask down around her neck. Her nose was broad and freckled, her chin rounded and soft, her lips stretched in a smile he’d seen a hundred times before - but this one was mangled and bitter and empty, a fucked up facsimile of the original.

She’d gotten a haircut, gathered a few more scars, lost the spark that used to make her shine so bright - but she still managed to be unmistakable. 

No wonder they called her a ghost.

“Sofia?”

[veky1993]

Don’t know about you, but I’ve missed these two lately.

So having all this free time on my hands atm, I decided to do something about it, and wrote a silly, little story called Dog Day Afternoon. Just our favorite couple suffering a long, hot day in LA. 

You can find it on ffnet, AO3 or even here.

Enjoy!  😊

DOG DAY AFTERNOON

Cranky was a word Andy could easily apply to a lot of people in his life. Provenza most notably, Rusty probably, his ex-wife most definitely. But Sharon? No, cranky was not a word he would ever use to describe her. Or perhaps dare. 

Apprehensive maybe? Yes. Nervous? Sure. Restless? Definitely. But cranky? Hell no. 

Only… And he winced at the mere thought...

She was cranky.

And he couldn’t really blame her.

It was hot as hell. Just glance-at-the-sun-and-melt-on-the-spot kind of hot. Even in the shade, the air was scorching, suffocating. It stood still, without even the faintest breeze to offer relief. In an above average hot week, today the heat index had reached its peak.

It was just so damn hot, and he was cranky, too, because his day was not going well.

As luck would have it, on the hottest day in the city in the last 30 years, their AC gave out. Any other day, it would be no biggie. He’d get someone to fix it and voila, problem solved. But do it today, and the earliest someone could come to fix it would be next week. Not in a couple of hours, not tomorrow, not even the day after tomorrow, but in seven goddamn days!

He might have yelled at Sharon when he told her, not that it was her fault, she just happened to be a convenient target for his annoyance.

The glare he was subsequently rewarded with burned almost as much as the LA sun.

So now he was sitting in the living room, their window drapes enveloping the room in semi-darkness, in front of the TV, miserable, sweaty, bored, alone and… irritated.

Because frankly, she’d been snippy with him all day, and did he glare her to death? Did he retreat to their bedroom, hiding and fuming?

He sighed and flopped his head on the backrest of the couch. Even mad at her, he still couldn’t really blame her for any of it.

All kinds of warnings about going out and about in this scorching weather had been issued, and being in the ‘at high risk’ part of the population due to their various heart issues, they had been pretty much cooped up in the house for days now. Evenings offered the slightest of relief, but then the ground itself seemed to radiate heat, and that was nearly as bad as the sun.

Today, Sharon seemed to be faring worse than most days. She had done laundry, and when he offered to help, she initially agreed, but when all of a sudden she found his folding technique lacking, she had unceremoniously kicked him off the task. 

“If you can’t do it properly,” she had said, taking a T-Shirt out of his ‘done’ pile and refolding it the way she preferred, which, in his humble opinion, was precisely the same way he did, “how about you don’t do it at all?”

When they decided to make lunch together, and he accidentally dropped and shattered a plate, she had let out such a long, exasperated sigh, that he had fled the kitchen before she could even think to kick him out herself. After lunch then, he didn’t even bother offering to clear the table, but smartly got out of her way, lest he did something else to set her off.

Still, he understood. At some point your day just sucks, nothing can please you, no matter what you do, and it was a wonder really that it had taken her this long to reach that point.

So, in an attempt to snap her out of that funk a little, he had optimistically suggested they go out, somewhere indoors with air conditioning. Simply to get out of the house. Restaurant, shopping mall, museum. Anything. Sharon had refused it all. Not even gently, with her usual gratitude at his sweet thought, but brutally, flat out, she had said, “No.”

At that point, he had given up, hoping the next day would be better, because surely this one couldn't get any worse. But when half an hour later, he then heard a desperate, "Oh, no, no, no," from her while he was coming back from the bathroom, and found her furiously tapping and shaking the AC remote, he was proven terribly wrong.

Five disappointing phone calls later, Sharon had wordlessly stalked off to their bedroom, barricading the door, and he hadn't seen nor heard from her since. The soft thud with which she closed the door made him decide that cranky wasn’t a word he would use to describe her after all.

Whatever she was, it was much much worse than merely cranky. Although maybe that was his own crankiness talking.

With the back of his hand he wiped off the sweat on his brow, and groaned. If only they’d gotten that house with the pool. They could have used this heat to their heart's content and nothing else would have mattered.

“Goddammit!” he muttered under his breath. Looking around the room, he stood, a decision reached, and made his way through the house to the garage. 

There he located his tool box, and as he carried it back into the house whipped his phone out to google, ‘fixes for central air conditioning.’

For a good half hour he then sat at the kitchen table, reading through tips, even quickly going over some instructional videos, before he finally got up again to give some of those suggestions a go.

He almost changed his mind when he got out to locate the central unit. He thought it was even hotter than an hour ago. Nonetheless, he braced himself, and courageously got to work.

“Ouch!” he yelped some time later, sucking in his thumb between his lips, glaring at the machine he had disassembled. “Go to hell, you damn piece of junk!” he added, smacking the thing with his open palm, and in turn sending another jolt of pain through the limb. “Ah, for fu-”

“Andy?”

He whirled around so fast he could hear several loud pops coming from his spine in the process.

“What are you doing?”

He just stared at her for a moment. Cranky or not, she was going to give him hell for this, he was sure of it. Didn’t matter if she had a good reason to, or not.

Trying to compose himself in light of the outburst she just witnessed, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, accidentally hitting himself with the butt of the screwdriver he was holding. As the pain registered, his suppressed ire quickly resurfaced, and he cursed loudly, either at himself, the screwdriver, or perhaps even at Sharon, he couldn’t tell, nor did he really care in the moment. “I figured,” he finally started, his voice strained and rough as he struggled not to start yelling again, “if the thing’s busted already, what’s the worst that can happen if I try to fix it myself?” 

Sharon just looked at him, her face inscrutable, and he suddenly found himself holding his breath. If she was angry with him before, he thought, looking around at the mess he had managed to make of their backyard, she might just file for divorce after this stunt. 

Then to his absolute horror, she burst out laughing. Not just simple laughter either, but snort filled, almost hiccuping laughter. 

Recovering, he got on board with what he decided was a good, if insulting reaction. “Now, wait a minute,” he waved his hands at her and managed to get her attention even though he could tell she was on the verge of laughing again, “I just gotta tighten this,” he turned around and tightened a screw, “pop this back into place,” he pushed at what resembled a tiny radiator with small pipes sticking out of it, “and it should start up again.” He took a brush that was next to his knee, worked it over the piece one more time, then reached for the cable and plugged the machine in with a fairly confident look on his face.

When absolutely nothing happened, Sharon promptly dissolved into snort infested laughter.

He didn’t find it amusing himself though. In a couple of jerked movements he got up to his feet, profusely ignoring the protests of his old bones, and glared at her, his temper flaring within an instant. “You know what? Laugh it up all you want, sweetheart!” He threw the screwdriver into his toolbox, not even registering it bouncing out of it and clattering down to the ground as he refocused on Sharon. “But I’m miserable in this goddamn heat, too, and I’m at least trying to do something about it instead of making you feel like shit! And you know what else? I’ve been sweating my ass off here for no other reason than to try to cheer your cranky ass up by fixing this piece of crap, while you brooded in the bedroom. And what do you do? You laugh at me. Well, ain’t that just great. Thank you so much. I feel so appreciated.” With that last sarcastic remark, he walked past her, only barely keeping himself in check enough to not intentionally bump his shoulder into her.

Before he was out of her reach though, her hand caught the bottom of his shirt, and she almost panicky said, “Andy, wait!”

“What?” he whirled around on her, a thunderous expression on his face.

She waited a moment, the way she always did when he got worked up like this, and when he saw the rather dumbstruck, and what was more a rather guilty expression on her face, he found himself taking a deep breath then slumping his shoulders as he exhaled.

Noting the change in him, she reached for his hand, and ran her finger over his thumb. It wasn’t until she worriedly said, “You’re bleeding,” that he noticed he had not just pinched, but cut the digit.

Still too worked up, despite his earlier efforts, he jerked his hand free of hers, and growled, “Who cares?”

“I do,” she said, with more than a little force in the words. Then she grabbed his hand, this time not allowing him to pull it back, and led him back into the house until they reached the kitchen.

Brooding in silence, he just let her run his hand under the tap water and as she dug through a drawer to find a bandaid, she finally spoke again. “It wasn’t my intention to laugh at you.” He looked at her with dubious eyes, but she ignored him. “In fact, I came out to apologize.”

Surprised, his eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” she mumbled, running her thumbs over his now bandaged one, then releasing his hand. “I’ve taken my sour mood out on you all day, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Sharon-”

“But,” she cut him off, giving him one of those ‘don’t interrupt me looks’ over the top of her glasses, “so have you, and I don’t mean just now.”

He deflated completely now, and sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. I was an ass.” He looked around, the guilt for his earlier outburst swelling up in him, and added, “I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did,” she interrupted, this time gently, reaching for his hand again. “But you’re forgiven.” After a pause, she added, “Unless there’s more you need to get out of your system?”

He chuckled self deprecatingly, then raised his free hand in surrender. “No, no, I’m good.”

She chuckled, too, then leaned over to give him a quick kiss. “How about we clean up this mess of yours then?”

He shook his head vehemently. “No, I just had to clean the evaporator, maybe I missed a-” He abruptly shut up when he caught the skeptical look she was giving him. “Or,” he gave up, “maybe I really don’t have a clue what I was doing.”

“Maybe,” she repeated, and when he caught the shadow of amusement on her face, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Can we just forget about this,” he stood, “clean it up and go die of this heatstroke in peace?”

She laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

When they were done, his tools put away, and the air conditioning unit reassembled into its seemingly undefective state, Sharon made them some iced drinks and led them to the living room.

She took a spot on the couch, but instead of joining her, Andy pulled at his shirt, ungluing it from his sweaty skin and said, “I should probably take a shower first.”

“Or you could just take it off?” she offered, looking at him, amused.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Or you could join me for that shower?”

“And break a hip?” she countered, hiding a grin behind her glass.

“And have the time of your life,” he corrected smugly.

She burst out laughing.

He clutched at his chest. “You wound me.”

Even as she chuckled, she reached for his hand, and pulled him to her. “Oh, would you just get over here?”

For the briefest of moments, he considered taking that shower first, because with her track record today, he was really in no mood for another scolding, this time over sweat stains on her precious couch. She seemed to be more relaxed though, and humor was definitely a good sign, too, so he finally did take a seat next to her, and decided to give voice to his musings. “You’re in a better mood, I see.”

She leaned a shoulder into the couch, facing him. “I took some time to cool off.” 

He chuckled. “You sure about that?” he asked, running a finger across her damp forehead and pointing it out to her.

She laughed, then added as an afterthought, “No pun intended.”

He grinned.

“I really am sorry for today. Everything,” she waved a hand through the air, “just kept on piling on all day long, and then that stupid AC and-”

“I know,” he caught her fidgeting hand, prompting her to scoot closer to him, “bad day.”

“Something like that,” she agreed.

“Good you have a punching bag like me,” he suddenly said, grinning again.

She eyed him suspiciously. “One that likes to punch back,” she pointed out.

He didn’t even bother with another apology. It wasn’t the first time they’d taken their foul moods out on each other, and with any luck it won’t be their last. Instead, he said, "You forget how big of an ass I can be when I set my mind to it."

She laughed, not disagreeing. “Aren’t we a pair, huh?”

“The best,” he decided, stealing a quick kiss from her.

Still smiling, she leaned her head against his shoulder, and changed the topic, her tone conversational. “So how exactly did you picture this ‘dying of a heat stroke’ plan?”

“About that,” he started, waiting until she looked up at him, and when she did, he leaned down and kissed her. When he had her sufficiently breathless, he asked, just as conversationally, “How about a change of plans?”

“Depends on the plan,” she replied, distracted with plans of her own as she inched closer to kiss him again.

Avoiding her lips, Andy grinned. “It’s a compromise really.” 

The look she shot him told him she was quite unimpressed by this game he was playing, but she played along anyway, her final response leaving her lips in a carefully measured, yet intrigued tone. “Really?” 

He continued grinning, then wagged his eyebrows at her. “A cool bath.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. Even as she said, “Oh, I like that,” she was on her feet, pulling him up to his, to lead the way.

Once in their bathroom, undressing each other became an entirely too hot affair; slow, deliberate and interrupted by scorching kisses, so when they finally entered the bathtub, it wasn’t just the LA heat they slowly cooled down from. With a content sigh, Sharon relaxed against Andy’s chest, and he chuckled as he peppered her shoulder with kisses. Rightfully so, he sounded rather pleased with himself, when he asked, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” she agreed, but in a playful attempt to curb his smug attitude, she pinched an arm he had wrapped around her.

He merely laughed though, even pulled her more snugly against him, before leaning fully back, nestling them both safely against the bathtub.

He closed his eyes for a moment, soaking up the relief from the heat provided by the water, and simply basked in the feel of the woman in his arms. The goosebumps that erupted all over his skin had little to do with the cooling water, but rather everything with the way she started running her fingers up and down his forearms. He relaxed even more, and smiled to himself when in a similar response, she shivered, as he grazed a thumb across the side of her breast. 

Inviting himself to more, he placed one sensuous kiss to the back of her neck, then another off to the side, then one more to her shoulder. When he drew a quiet moan out of her, he continued showering her skin with kisses, but just as he was about to give his hands free roam of the rest of her body, too, she suddenly stiffened and stilled his hands, causing him to pause. 

Sitting up, he rested his chin against her shoulder and inclined his head gently to look at her. Surprised, but not entirely too worried when he saw the amusement in her eyes, he asked, “What?” 

“Did you really call my ass cranky?”

For a moment his heart dropped and he worried that he had ruined her improved mood. There was an ominous ring to the question, indicating that he had better come up with a very good answer if he wished to stay in this bathtub with her, but then he realized she was fighting a smile, clearly teasing him. Not one to pass up an opportunity to make up for his little slip though, he put on his most disarming smile in return, dropped an open palm to the object of her question, and quickly apologized.

Profusely.

[spyroforlife]

Oh no I wrote a full thing based on this post I did a while back haha enjoy some fluff that got more emotional than I expected

- - -

Dib was already ranting as he walked into Zim's base, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto a table as he crossed to the couch. “-got like three projects due within the week and end of the year tests coming up and Dad still keeps trying to get me to intern at his lab every weekend...”

“Did I fucking ask?” Zim snapped, looking up from his tablet with a scowl.

Dib just invited himself right onto the couch, flopping down and continuing to complain, “And don't even get me started on Dad nagging me about college...” He pulled his boots off and dropped them carelessly on the floor. Only when he had done that did he finally acknowledge the death glare Zim was giving him. “Call me pathetic if you want, but your place is about the only place I can go to get away from things for a while.”

“It's not my fault you decided to sign up for all AP classes for your last semester of high school,” Zim said, rolling his eyes. “Don't you fledgling humans try to take it easy during your very last year of adolescent schooling?”

“Most people do, yeah. But apparently I'm supposed to have 'higher standards' for myself.” Dib did finger quotes. “Whatever, at least it's almost done.”

“Right. Now if you don't mind, I'm working.”

Dib moved over to try and looked at his tablet, and got a boot in the face for his efforts. Zim hissed at him and Dib grabbed his ankle, shoving his foot aside. “What are you working on, huh? Let me see.”

“Get away from me, hair beast!”

They spent a few seconds wrestling for the tablet, Dib trying to grab for Zim's wrists while Zim kicked at his face and chest. Dib's superior height gave him quite the reach advantage, but Zim wasn't afraid to fight dirty. But Zim quickly noticed that Dib didn't seem to have as much energy as usual, and moments later his suspicions were confirmed as Dib yawned and took a lazy swipe for the tablet that Zim easily avoided.

“Ugh, I don't even care, your plans suck anyway...”

“What? Say that a little louder, you insolent piece of-” Zim's antennae perked as Dib slumped against him, body falling limp. “Eh? Dib-stink?” He prodded Dib's forehead and leaned him back, then realized his eyes were closed. He fell asleep?! That, or passed out. “Dib?”

There was no answer. Zim squinted in confusion, dropping an antenna to hover it next to Dib's nose. He felt air and confirmed that he was still breathing.

“You humans are so weak and pathetic,” Zim sighed, pushing Dib off himself and moving away. He looked back at his tablet, scrolling through the plan he was working on. But he kept stealing glances at his foe, expecting him to wake up any moment now, loudly huffing and making comments about humans having zero energy. And still, Dib slept.

Honestly, it was sad. Zim enjoyed their rivalry, he used to find it annoying but now he looked forward to matching wits and might with the human. He greatly respected him as an enemy and even trusted him as a friend. Well, kind of. It was complicated, but Zim did know he could rely on Dib to help him when he had no other options, and he liked spending time with the other. They've had many deep discussions in recent years and it was pleasant spending time with another intellectual. Not that Zim would ever admit that out loud.

So, rather than feel glad that Dib was quiet and nonthreatening right now, Zim found himself feeling disappointed. That hadn't been much of a fight. Nowhere near as glorious as their battles usually were. They needed to settle it properly. And to do that, Dib would need to be properly rested.

Zim set his tablet aside and picked up the remote to lower the volume on the TV. It was getting dark outside, so he asked Computer to dim the lights in the living room. Once that was done, Zim shifted closer to Dib, examining him curiously. The human looked rather peaceful, his expression calm and without the stress he so often carried these days. Zim carefully took his glasses off and put them aside, then kept gazing at his face. It was strange that Dib would leave himself vulnerable like this. But then, he didn't seem to fall asleep by choice. He really was that exhausted.

Zim's gaze traveled further. The other was laying on his side, curled up a bit, knees pulled up against his chest and head resting on an arm. It was almost... cute.

Zim growled at himself and tore his eyes away. He was not going to entertain that line of thought anymore. Of course Dib wasn't cute. He was a gross, primitive alien that was going to belong to the Irken Empire one day. Zim might even force him to be his personal slave as payback for all the trouble he's caused him. Sure, Dib was tall, and smart, and he had that delightful sharpness to his eyes and a sort of weird quirk to the corner of his lip when he smiled that was positively delightful and-

And Zim forcibly derailed that train of thought and tried to ignore how his face grew warm and tingly.

Dib groaned and shifted around, and Zim saw him shift his head off his arm, though he continued sleeping. He looked uncomfortable though, his head tilted at an odd angle. Humans generally slept with pillows. Perhaps they needed their heads elevated while sleeping, Zim reasoned. He debated over what to do next, he could easily just grab Dib's coat and fold that up to put under his head, or he could let Dib rest against him...

He sighed and added this to the long list of things his enemy would have to suffer for, and moved closer, pulling Dib's head up onto his lap. He looked ahead at the quiet TV, mumbling to himself about all the shortcomings of humanity. His attempt to distract himself from the awkward situation failed. The show was boring and his mind wandered to how nice it was having the other's weight on him, his warmth seeping through Zim's clothes, and when Zim let his right hand rest on Dib's shoulder, he felt the other gently shift in closer to him, body curling up even more.

Zim's face grew warmer and he asked himself why he was doing this. Yes, of course he wanted his enemy well-rested so they could continue fighting, but... why was he doing this specifically? Why was he letting Dib lay on him rather than just walk away and wait? What did he gain?

Comfort, a small voice whispered. This was comforting. It was domestic and tender and... it made his heart ache but felt good at the same time. He shouldn't like this. Invaders worked alone. He was trained to be a single cog in the huge machine of the Irken Empire. His loyalty was to his Tallest alone. Irken soldiers were not supposed to desire companionship. It was an unspoken taboo.

Yet here he was. On a distant, unremarkable planet an entire galaxy away from his own. Sitting on the couch with an alien creature curled up next to him, asleep and trusting. And it was nice. It felt right.

“You're pathetic,” Zim whispered to himself. He could be honest with himself when no one was around to hear. “It was bad enough when you grew attached to GIR, and to Computer and Minimoose... and now you're attached to him? Your enemy? Why? What is it about him? You shouldn't be doing this. You need to shove him off. Tell him to go sleep at home and challenge you in the morning once he's suitably recharged. Just... just push him away. Right now.”

But he didn't. He stayed there, listening to Dib's steady breathing, even starting to rub slowly along the other's shoulder. His hand slipped down past where Dib's sleeve ended, fingers glancing over skin. Dib twitched but didn't wake up, and Zim figured the feel of his glove must have surprised the other. It probably was a little cool.

Zim lifted his hand and tugged the glove off, setting it down and moving his hand back to Dib's arm. He reached out slowly, at first only letting the very pads of his fingers touch the other before pulling away. As soon as he did, he registered the warmth of Dib's skin and the softness of it. Zim moved his hand back, now resting it fully on Dib, and he closed his eyes as he savored the human's body heat. How were they so warm? Of course he had studied human vital signs and knew what their internal temperature was, but to think they were so warm even on their skin like this...

Zim's internal argument continued to rage. This was unacceptable. He was out of uniform for one, but also, his hands were sensitive and he was opening himself up to injury or disease by touching an alien lifeform without a glove!

“Disgusting, putrid, inferior creature,” he murmured as he slowly began petting Dib's arm. “How dare you give me these feelings. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't want to do this. I should throw you out the door right now.”

Dib slept on, peacefully unaware. Zim curiously moved his hand up, drifting his fingers against Dib's hair instead. He covered his mouth to muffle the shocked noise that escaped him. It was even softer than the skin! Well, perhaps it was a little messy, matted in places and definitely could be washed more often... but he still found himself fascinated with the texture, running his fingers through it over and over again. He's grabbed Dib by the hair before, yanked him around, or just ruffled it to tease him. But that was always with his gloves on. He never realized just how soft the other's hair was until now.

He decided to just stop arguing with himself. His feelings right now were new and confusing and he just didn't want to deal with it. He was going to stay in the moment, enjoying the feel of Dib's hair between his fingers and the warmth against his body, and let himself be content.

Several minutes passed. Zim relaxed more and more as he got used to this, leaning back and smiling when he felt Dib move a hand to his leg and just hold onto it, apparently enjoying their newfound peace just as much. Humans sure did move a lot during their sleep cycles, didn't they? But then he felt Dib's breathing slow further, and his antennae picked up the other's heart rate going down. Not by much, but it was notable. These were the signs of deep sleep, Zim had learned back when he first arrived. It was fascinating watching it happen naturally and not due to him drugging a human into sleep to watch the entire process on monitors. Entirely for scientific purposes of course.

This was when humans began dreaming, he knew. He wondered what Dib would dream about. Probably something weird. Dib was very imaginative and his many encounters with the supernatural probably led to some vivid dreams. Maybe Zim will ask him when he wakes up.

To Zim's surprise, Dib thrashed slightly, baring his teeth for a moment and groaning. His fingers dug against Zim's leg.

“What's wrong?” Zim asked.

Dib shook, muttering something that didn't seem to be English. It was just a garbled phrase that likely made sense only in his dream. Zim frowned. Was Dib having a nightmare? Why would he not just wake up from it, then? That's what the humans in the shows seemed to do, they would just scare themselves awake from their nightmares.

Maybe it was more difficult in real life. Should Zim wake him up then? Whatever he was seeing must be really distressing him, based on the tremors going down his back and the way he nervously kneaded at Zim's leg. Then again, if Zim woke him now, he might just get punched in the face. He's woken Dib up a few times before and the reaction was usually violent.

Zim chewed his lip as he tried to decide what to do, and while Dib's movements slowed, he kept shaking, whimpering now. Zim sighed and resumed stroking his hair, using long, slow passes that went partway down his neck before going back up to the top of his head. As he did, he began singing softly. It was an old irken lullaby that never quite went away over the generations, even as natural births declined and test tube smeets became the norm. The comforting melody persisted no matter how society changed and even now was used among friends and loved ones to soothe their worries. Zim had always liked the song but never imagined he would ever use it. But the words came easily to him nonetheless, and though Dib couldn't possibly understand the lyrics, he relaxed in response to the tune, his shaking slowing and then stopping altogether. He stopped whimpering as well, instead seeming to hum for a couple notes before falling silent.

“That's it,” Zim whispered, leaning forward and seeing that Dib's expression was peaceful again. “Those nightmares aren't real. You're safe.” He leaned back and continuing singing, closing his eyes as he did. He felt a little silly, but at least Dib could finish resting. And they could keep fighting. Because that's why he was doing this. To get Dib back into fighting shape. Yep.

It was about thirty minutes later when Dib woke up. He woke up slowly, feeling so warm and comfortable he almost didn't want to get up. Then he felt someone stroking his hair with slender fingers and heard a familiar voice singing above him.

He kept his eyes closed as he rushed to piece together where he was and what was happening. He had gone over to Zim's base to hang out just to get away from his own house for a bit. He had playfully fought with him for a while... he remembered being really tired the whole time. He must have fallen asleep.

He realized those were Zim's fingers running through his hair, unbelievably gentle and comforting. And that was Zim's voice singing in a tone softer than Dib has ever heard him use. He recognized the words as irken, and though he didn't understand them, he somehow just knew it was a lullaby. He's heard Zim swear at him before in irken, or mutter to himself, and it always seemed so harsh, but this was different. The lyrics were pronounced with trills, chirps, and purrs. He never expected to hear something so sweet from Zim. Who knew he could sing like that?

As he woke up more fully, his brain started going a thousand miles an hour. Why was Zim holding him and singing a lullaby to him? Sure, things have been better between them in recent years, but they were still enemies. Zim could have done any number of terrible things as soon as he fell asleep. He could have thrown him outside. He could have attacked him, or taken him into his lab to experiment on, he could even have seized the chance and killed him! But he didn't do any of that. They were still on the couch from what he could feel, his head was in Zim's lap, and the other's bare hand was playing with his hair.

Something about it really got to him and he found himself feeling emotional, chest tightening. He wondered if it was because he liked Zim, or if it was just that he was so lonely he would take any affectionate touch right now. Maybe it was a mix of both. He felt so safe here with the other, Zim's attention was bizarre yet very wanted and Dib found himself thinking that this was what love felt like.

And it was time to nip that in the bud. Ignoring that happy warmth in his chest, Dib opened his eyes and pushed himself up, pulling away from Zim with what he hoped was a convincing scowl. “Oh ew, I fell asleep on you? I'm out of here, I need to make sure you didn't take any of my organs.” He jumped up and Zim growled, getting to his feet as well.

Dib was partway to the door before realizing his glasses were missing and he still needed to put his boots and coat on.

“Forgetting something?” Zim asked, holding the glasses by an earpiece and giving it a wave.

Dib turned and went to grab them from him, sliding them on and then rushing through putting on his boots and coat, all while Zim teased him.

“Haha, so pathetic that you fell asleep mid battle, but now we can continue!”

“We could... or I could just go home, your lullaby really helped get rid of my stress. Thanks for that!” Dib grinned and ran for the door, swinging it open.

“Wha- hey! What lullaby?” Zim shouted. When Dib ran outside, Zim let out an irken swear and chased after him, hastily pulling his glove back on. “Get back here and fight me!”

“You gotta catch me first, bug!” Dib called over his shoulder. He couldn't help but laugh at the way the other glared at him. “And you might wanna put on your disguise if you're going to follow me.”

Zim let out a yelp and quickly ran back into the house to get his disguise. When he ran back after Dib, he was laughing, and Dib laughed too. “You're going to suffer greatly when I catch you, Earth-filth!”

“If you catch me, cicada!”

Dib may not know exactly why Zim chose to hold him throughout his nap and sing to him, but he felt like in some small way, they had bonded just a little more while he slept. And judging from the way Zim was smiling at him, he felt the same.