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spiltscribbles · 4 years ago

Note

Here’s a prompt from the tag! “ Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favorite.” bc I have a feeling Remis would be the type to end up eating Sirius’ dessert instead of his bc he doesn’t know what to order but Sirius knows his taste dkfjsjaha

~Notes: Oh no baby! I read this wrong, thinking it was Person A ordering for them instead because Person B didn’t know what they wanted.... And well this came out-- I can totally write a different prompt though to match this one! Just LMK! <3 <3

Send Me A Prompt | Reblogs are like the tastiest dessert!!

Remus pads softly into his and Sirius’s room, a mug of steaming Darjeeling in hand and clad only in a his robe as he gazes longingly at the sleeping form of his partner for nearing on three years now.

The early morning sun pans across the wide expanse of Sirius’s shoulders, and dips into the planes and valleys of his muscular torso and angular face. Lying there, with his dark hair fanning the pillow and the blanket slung lazily around his hips, he looks like some sort of fallen angel. Beautiful and remote and impossible to touch by sullied hands that aren’t half as sacred. It makes his heart thud an uneven staccato when he remembers that he’s his— Sirius chose Remus, Sirius loves Remus— Maybe even nearly as much as Remus has always loved him.

How remarkable of a revelation indeed.

Gingerly, Remus sets down his tea and crawls back into bed with Sirius, insides thrilling when the dark haired boy subconsciously snakes his arms around him and curves around Remus’s body like so many times before, so often that Remus reckons it’s become by rote, an ingrained response to whenever they’re in close proximity to one another.

With a quiet laugh, Remus stretches around, begins peppering Sirius’s chest and abs and the space surrounding his cock with tender kisses, slowly rousing him to wakening the way Sirius always appreciates after a night of patrols for the Auror’s academy. And as usual, it doesn’t take long at all for Sirius to begin moaning out appreciative sighs, thrusting languorously for the warmth of his mouth, making Remus chuckle as he tugs down his pants, and kisses the length of him, peering up to watch as Sirius’s gorgeous, gray eyes flutter open.

“Wh— Moony?” He says in a peculiarly squeaky voice that Remus can’t ever remember slipping out of his mouth.

“Yes— Problem, Paddy?”

Another discontent, borderline terrified noise rumbles in his throat, and before Remus could even ask what’s got his boyfriend acting like he’s touched in the head, the door to their flat flings open none too gently, and it’s an irate looking James who storms into the bedroom— fists clenched and jaw set as he glares daggers into the face of his practical brother.

“You’re dead Potter!” Is all he shouts before madness ensues— Madness that’s James’s flying fists for Sirius’s face, Peter’s choked laughter flowing in from the other room, and a Lily who looks stuck between horrified and amused

And Remus is so fucking bewildered as he slides off of his boyfriend to avoid any untoward hits accidentally aimed his way.

“Lily?” he presses expectantly, but is totally unsurprised when all she replies with is a bout of uninhibited cackles.

Fifteen minutes, a magically healed split lip, and a physically restrained pair of animagi later, finds the ragtag group of friends surrounding the kitchen Island while a terse James and enraged Sirius are explaining what had happened the previous night. Namely, them getting hexed by a sour faced old bint with a Guinness in hand, after Sirius had driven his motorbike through her rosebushes.

“You guys got bested by a drunk hag!” Peter guffaws for the third time in a singular minute, clutching at his stomach while his body wracks with a continuous stream of laughter

“I will singe your bollocks off Wormtail,” Sirius seethes from Remus’s left— Except no, it’s not Sirius. It’s James, his best mate James who’s now inhabiting the body of his lover. And God how strange of a fucking turn of events. It’s seriously unnerving. He’s just standing their, all too familiar arms crossed against his chest and thick brows furrowed. And God, Remus really wishes he wouldn’t do that— worry on his bottom lip mid snarl. It’s such a quintessentially Sirius thing to do. a look Remus knows well. One that Remus would always coax away with a gentle kiss and a hand carding through his hair and—

“Oof!”

He glances over to where Sirius— wearing James’s face— is glowering at him with pure irritation after having elbow checked him. “Eyes front and center Lupin!”

Remus flushes, glancing over at Lily since she out of everyone here could understand his plight. But of course she’s only snickering to herself in her cup of coffee, the trader.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just because ’s my body doesn’t mean you get to give another bloke the come hither eyes!” Sirius fumes, a sneer caught on his features that Remus never thought the face of the easy going James Potter could ever conjure. “Crikey, it’s plenty that you decided to give him a full on show already.”

“How was I to know this would happen!” Remus sputters the same time James defends that they even barely started, which of course made Peter fall over on his chair with pure delight and Lily walking over to the kettle so she can hide her own laughter.

“Lucky you,” Sirius snipes back, glaring darkly at James and snatching Remus’s hand to interlock with his— erm James’s?— own on his lap.

Remus is so totally fucked.

Graciously, Professor McGonagall— who told the graduating Gryffindor class of 78 to always reach out if they ever needed help with a strangely wet glint in her eyes— Replies to the pleading missive Remus had sent almost immediately, giving Remus the proper instructions to reverse the jinx and wishing him and Lily the best for the impending tribulations about to befall them.

“She’s totally loving this,” James mumbles moodily as Lily massages his head. And Merlin, is that a strange sight— Lily not only deigning to touch Sirius at all, but look at him sympathetically on top of that. Remus has to constantly remind himself of the body swap before his ridiculous envy begins carving at his insides when James only looks appreciatively back up at her, a gentle, open expression painted over his face that is ordinarily reserved for Remus and Remus alone.

“God this is weird,” Lily tells him, slowly inching away and sitting besides Remus instead. “I usually can’t stand even the sight of Black, and now I’ve got to treat him like the bloke I’m in love with.”

“That’s not what you said this morning Evans,” Sirius goads from Remus’s other end, suddenly reverting back to looking like the James of fifth year— when he was still too cocky for his own good and still didn’t understand how much it made Lily want to hex him to hell for it. “I actually think I recall a lot of back robs and straddling action this morning.”

Lily casts him a look that would absolutely scorch lesser beings, and Remus reasons that his own glower is emulating the same energy because Sirius quickly presses their foreheads together and squeezes Remus’s hand between both of his own in silent repentance. “I knocked her off once i realized it wasn’t you love.”

“Didn’t even bother to aim for the bed you absolute sod.”

“It was fight or flight while you had your grubby little hands all over me Evans!” Sirius airily sniffs.

“Oh I’ll show you grubby little hands!” Lily seethes, pouncing forwards right when Sirius hides behind Remus’s back.

“Children,” Remus intones, beyond over it. “Did you all not realize the massive problem with this little mishap.”

“You mean besides dealing with James’s pitiful little knob.” Sirius asks, faux owlish.

“You touch my knob Black and I swear to God I’ll shave off all your hair.” James snipes, which really isn’t all that fair considering how Sirius doesn’t even care about his perfect locks half as much as Remus does.

“Bloody hell! That’s brilliant!” Peter squawks from the loveseat, absolutely glowing. “James, you think you can get Moony’s name tattooed on his arse.”

James’s face goes sly, Remus’s favorite smirk toying the edges of his lips and his stormy eyes glinting with mirth that Remus only ever sees on his boyfriend’s face before a prank or while Remus is undressing in front of him.

“What did I say about that look Moony!” Sirius shouts, scathing and skewering him with a look James only ever employed as Head Boy on the third year students stupid enough to get caught while trying to pull off a prank.

“Erm— Ahem.” Remus adjusts himself in his seat, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Yes well, that is rather besides the point.”

“So what is the point, Rem,” Lily asks smugly, and Remus absolutely hates how much she’s enjoying this. She should be suffering just as much as him for the sake of Circe.

“Well didn’t you have that lunch date set up with your older sister and her husband for today?” Remus points out, a mutinous little part of him preening at how her face goes a sickly sort of pale at the reminder. Finally someone is as ill over this as he is.

“Oh bloody shite! You’re right! And Professor McGonagall said that this incantation can only be done at night, the same time as it was originally cast!”

“We’re not in school anymore Evans, you can just call her McGonagall. Or Minnie if you’re so inclined.”

“Shut the fuck up Black!” Lily shrieks, and Remus can’t help but unfavorably liken her to a banshee. “I promised Petunia that I’d see her before she leaves on holiday tomorrow! And she bloody hates Black!”

“nasty harpy.”

“What are we going to do!”

“Erm— Well maybe you can explain to her the switch up?” Peter offers, always meek in the face of Lily’s wrath.

“She already thinks I’m a freak for being a witch Peter! I can’t bring James looking like that and expect her to be fine with it!”

“Most people would consider James having upgraded,” Sirius argues.

“The tattoo will be bright pink I reckon,” James muses loudly to himself, pretending not to have heard Sirius. “A nice contrast to your pasty white arse don’t you think Padfoot?”

Sirius bares his teeth at him and Remus feels an impending migraine while Lily continues to lament the idiocy of their boyfriends.

Remus idly contemplates how normal his life could’ve been if he had fought harder with the sorting hat to be placed into Ravenclaw. It would be a much less wonderful existence, to be sure, but it’d be so blessedly normal. Remus would probably have gone steady with that Hufflepuff prefect, Andre, and they would probably still be together. And Andre didn’t have a best friend who he got into insane and improbable situations with, so Remus definitely wouldn’t have been forced to do this. To be forced to go to lunch with his best friend’s wizard hating sister and her pug faced husband and not look longingly over the table at the face of his other best friend where the love of his life is inhabiting his body.

Jesus, is Remus’s life confusing as fuck.

“I need to take a pis— Oof, I mean. I have to use the gents,” Sirius declares as everyone’s entrees are being served, giving a pointed glance to Remus. And he supposes he should talk to him about that, how incredibly obvious Sirius can be when he’s flustered and isn’t trying to show it.

Five minutes after his boyfriend, Remus leaves to meet him in the first open stall, finally feeling less wrong footed for the first time today when Sirius takes him into his unfamiliar arms.

“I’m going to stab my eyes out with a fork Moony!” He hisses, and it’s odd how alien his face— James’s face— is to him. How Remus has never spent the time to memorize the precise slope of his nose, or the shape to his lips. How Remus can’t understand what it means when he squints his left eye or when he flares his nostrils with a slight curl to his mouth. But Remus does recognize the way Sirius has always grabbed his hips in that desperate way when he’s fed up, and how he always presses his nose to the curls behind Remus’s ear when he needs to be grounded. And it’s a bit awkward now that they’re the same height instead of Sirius needing to stoop slightly, and how Sirius now smells like that pricy cologne that James has always sprits with gusto. But it’s familiar enough to make Remus’s shoulders relax from the tension sown through them all day, and breathe out with relief with how the pair of them still understand one another with an innate sort of knowing.

Gingerly, Remus wraps his arms around Sirius’s now less defined torso, and they stand their, tangled into one another amidst the hush settling over them.

“Oi! You berks!” James hisses from the doorway all too soon, clambering inside and stomping his feet. “I swear to Merlin if you pricks are fucking inside there!”

“Don’t worry Jamie, I’d never put my Moons through the indignity of dealing with that after he’s had me,” Sirius jeers, preening when James replies by throwing something hard against the doorway.

“C’mon you idiot,” Remus sighs, tugging on a lowly chuckling Sirius as they meet James by the exit of the loo.

“I’ve had three different birds sliding their numbers into my trousers on my way here alone,” James complains, shuffling foot to foot and looking more awkward than Sirius ever has. “It’s obscene.”

“It’s the life of the beautiful,” Sirius corrects as Remus swaths his hand away from his arse.

“I’d rather not have Petunia getting a heart attack when she sees her sister’s boyfriend copping a feel of another bloke,” he chides before looping his arm through James’s and begins strolling back to the table.

The rest of the lunch is thankfully uneventful, but as stilted as expected, filled with Sirius needing to be kicked in the shin every time he starts gazing absentmindedly at Remus, and Lily flickering her eyes over to James disappointedly while he pouts at her with Sirius’s best puppy dog eyes. And Every time Petunia starts eyeing them all as if they’re all fucking each other behind the scenes, Remus clumsily changes the topic to the weather or how lovely her engagement ring is or asking Vernon about bloody drills— Even if all he wants to do is reach across the table and hold Sirius’s hand.

But thankfully, it all seems to be going along decently enough— That is until the waiter comes around to take their orders and spends a little too long leering at Remus, asking if he’d like a cinnamon roll on the house.

“He’d like a slice of the chocolate fudge cake and he has a boyfriend that probably wouldn’t appreciate the extra service.” Sirius growls out, specs gone askew and dark knuckles paling from where he’s clutching his spoon vindictively.

The waiter only smiles at him, shrugging in that what can you do kind of way before dashing off to place the orders in with the kitchen.

“Hmm,” Petunia levels him with a glance, unimpressed looking. “So James.”

It takes a beat too long for Sirius to respond and Remus silently curses his every damn star.

“Erm, yes Petunia.”

“How long have you been fucking my sister’s friend behind her back?”

Lily goes shellshocked and James looks ill while Remus sinks lower in his seat, trying to force Sirius to get it together through his eye contact alone.

“Hah— Wow, you’ve been watching those silly Muggle dramas have you Petunia.” Sirius says in a mangled tone of voice, but of course that’s the precise wrong thing to have said.

With matching red faces and spluttering words of indignation— a few curses thrown in for good measure— Petunia and her husband rise from their seats and make a hasty retreat to their car towards the back of the building.

“Oh Christ,” Lily groans, jumping up to sprint after them— but not without swinging a perfectly aimed cuff to the back of Sirius’s porcupine head. “I’ll hex you once you’re out of my boyfriend’s sodding body Black!”

“I understand Evans!” He calls after her before swinging his head over to James and Remus with a mischievous grin. “We tried didn’t we?”

“You just couldn’t keep your bloody jealous temper in check,” James scolds with no real heat.

“Oi! And what about you lusting over Lily so blatantly you tosser! It was revolting.”

“Yeah, well maybe you’ll remember that next time you’re gazing at Moony’s arse out in public you mongrel.”

Exhausted, Remus just rises and tells them to stay behind and make sure Lily’s alright. “I need a bath and some quiet.”

“Can I join,” Sirius pouts. “I miss you.”

“Only once you’re my Sirius again,” Remus instructs, brooking no arguments before he finds a safe place to apparate, telling himself that he deserves an entire bottle of that cheap merlot they bought last weekend.

#REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #WOLFSTAR #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #spilt ink #I feel bad I didn't post a Remus Bday FIC tho #rip #sorry angel child o'mine

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tenkoscumslut · 4 years ago

Text

Alpha Bakugou x Reader

- So Bakugou is 18+, he has is own agency and he’s currently the number 1 hero, he does have injuries from the recent chapters, and i’m assuming Izuku probably either retired bc his arms are never going to be fixed, or he’s lying in the lower ranks for the rest of his life purposefully.

So how does alpha Bakugou court you?!?!!

- He doesn’t like omegas

- or betas

- or alphas

- he hates everyone

- so one day he just stopped at his favorite book store

- bc mans likes to read

- the reason why he loves the library

- is bc

- he will never admit this

- he thinks your adorable

- he doesn’t want a mate

- and then you exist

- like he wants to be around you 24/7

- at first he didn’t care about you

- he thought you were hot

- and that was it

- but when a man thought he could rub you through your panties

- then you caught his eye

- you roundhoused his face

- he fell to the ground

- like rly he knew he wanted to be around you

- so he started buying 2 books

- and would give you the other book

- it was him courting you behind his own back

- he didn’t realize his alpha was trying to court you

- but you accepted it

- “Thank you Mr. Dynamite”, you would thank him every day(i can't with his hero name)

- your voice would send his mind into a frenzy

- then he went to a cafe

- and he saw you working as a bartender there

- he stared at you secretly the entire time

- he thought about approaching you

- know he wanted to protect you

- someone was looking up your skirt

- you didn’t notice

- so you kept on working

- then he grabbed your clothed sex roughly

- your head snapped around

- that look in your eyes

- he could sense his rut coming in early

- you literally punched him and knocked at least 5 teeth out

- that’s how he knew you were the one

- but he had to run home bc he was going in a rut

- he kept jerking off to you

- your lips

- your smile

- your voice

- what would you look like underneath him

- what would your lips look like wrapped around his cock

- what your moans would sound

- he was obsessed with you

- and not even in a sexual way

- everywhere he went he could only see you

- it was starting to tick him off

- so he was in front of you

- “Hey, idiot, do you want to go get a coffee with me later?”, he asked

- you tilted your head

- your cheeks were flared up in embarrassment

- he could smell it

- it was just to intoxicating

- “u-um sure, I get out at 5″, you replied sweetly

- inside you were just screaming out in joy

- you always had a small crush on the pro hero

- and know he was inviting you out to talk

- he left

- then at 5 you met him outside the library

- he wore something a bit more formal the the usual sweatpants and sweatshirt

- he had a nice shirt and some jeans

- you both walked to a different coffee shop

- bc he was worried you would know that he knows that you work at that coffee shop

- you guys talk for a few hours

- your surprised he hasn’t shouted once

- in fact

- (he wasn't smiling) but you could sense he was very happy

- he ended up walking you home

- “it’s part of my job you get home safe”, he did not phrase that correctly

- you scowled

- “Your job has nothing to do with me”, you snapped

- he was sad that you snapped at him

- so he did the one thing nobody would ever expect him to

- he apologized

- “Ah, sorry I phrased that wrong, I meant it’s my duty as a hero to make sure you are safe and comfortable”

- on the inside he was screaming

- though he hid that

- the next day he got you a muffin and a book

- now it was regular for you two to go get a coffee at the coffee shop

- he was ecstatic 24/7

- he would go through ruts 1 a month now that he was closer to you

- and one night you 2 were walking to the coffee shop (it’s like 2 miles away btw)

- you guys stumbled past a drunk alpha

- when he saw you

- he was all over you

- groping you

- his knee was grinding against your pussy

- his stanky breath fanning over your marking spot

- Bakugou tried to stop him

- but you already had him pinned to the floor with blood seeping out of his mouth, and you were growling ferally

- and that was the first time he heard you growl

- he was in heaven

- like rly

- he loved ur growl

- it was so dominating and just TURNED HIM ON

- he arrested the man

- and made sure he was locked up for harassing his mate

- but you don’t know that yet

- and one day

- you let him in his house

- he was excited

- you lived alone

- and he got to see your nest

- when he came inside

- he was confined to the living room

- like every time he tried to explore

- you bared your teeth softly in a warning for him to stay

- you weren’t use to people being in your house

- and to be honest you kinda liked the power you had over the top pro hero in Japan

- he was wrapped around your finger

- he was slightly disappointed he could explore

- but he respected your boundaries

- so he sat at the couch and just took everything in

- you appeared with 2 cups of tea

- you continued to talk

- he was happy that he was engulfed in your scent

- but he wanted to make it smell like him

- but he knew you’d probably kick him in the balls and kick him out forever

- he sat in the same spot for hours

- but you were wrestles

- constantly fidgeting

- you were slightly distressed an alpha was in your house at 2 in the morning

- he noticed you were beginning to become overwhelmed with his presence.

- but he was happy no less

- “I’ll so you tomorrow L/N-san”, he purred before excusing himself of your house

- you locked the door behind him

- you didn’t notice but your heart was racing at a thousand miles per hour

- your cheeks were flushed red

- you picked yourself off and walked to the couch

- his scent lingered on the pillow he was resting beside

- a smile creeped to your lips

- you picked the pillow up and snuggled with it all night

- somehow it made you feel like he was sleeping beside you

- the actual thought of sleeping next to him had her squirming uncomfortably

- so the next day you were working at the library again

- you were on a ladder sorting out the books

- “Nice view”, someone underneath you commented

- you scowled and hit the man in the face with your foot

- “Get out”, you hissed

- he left

- then the front door opened

- you climbed down from the ladder and peered around the corner

- Bakugou was there

- he had dark circles under his eyes

- but he was still happy to see u

- he won’t tell u but he jacked off to you again

- again

- as in this is at least the 10th time he’s jacked off just to you

- you smiled softly

- “Helly Mr. Dynamite”, you greeted him

- “Hello L/N-san”

- today he invited you to the park with him

- you agreed hesitently

- you were socially awkward

- I mean yesterday was the first time someone was in your house

- so when you were at the park

- like you were in awe

- you especially likes the lake

- it was closed off to the public for cleaning

- you couldn’t stop gazing into the clear water

- it was so pretty

- just gorgeus

- and then the tree’s

- you had never really admired their beauty

- but here

- the pink blossoms fell from the trees

- and a single one landed on your palm

- it was amazing

- “Can we come to the park tomorrow?”, you asked turning your head around to slightly look at him

- he was smirking

- “Whatever you want L/N-san”.

- you turned around

- “you call me F/N if you want you know”, you pointed out

- he was flustered at how direct you were

- “i-in that case, whatever you want F/N-chan”.

- you smiled brightly

- he took you to a pond

- baby ducks were swimming in the water

- a little one came swimming over to you

- you reached out

- it clambered onto your hand

- water dripped onto your hand

- you cupped the baby duck perfectly

- a purr emitting from deep into your chest

- you looked so beautiful like this

- Bakugou couldn’t help but smile and sneak a quick photo of you

- Bakugou got you an ice cream

- then you invited him back inside you house to warm up from the cold

- this time you didn’t bare your teeth when he peered around the corner to the kitchen

- you didn’t bare your teeth when he walked in the kitchen

- he turned the corner to try and enter your room

- then he could hear a soft growl come from you

- he then passed your door and the growl stopped

- you started to cook dinner

- just a simple recipe your mother taught you

- it was just rice and chicken

- like it was really simple

- but it made anyone’s mouth water with the taste and smell

- he started to explore every inch except for your room

- his nose knuding into your coat

- he could smell your scent

- this was the strongest he’s ever smelt it

- his eyes rolled back into his head

- you smelled so sweet

- he quickly moved on so he wouldn’t appear suspicious

- he looked to see another room

- you couldn’t see him

- you had a beautiful house

- your house was big

- there was a patie in the middle of your house

- a huge shrine was in the middle of it

- there were lit candles

- he opened the door

- and saw a picture of a little boy with black hair and green eyes

- it looked like he had passed away

- he kept exploring

- there wasn’t much after that

- just a few extra rooms

- an office

- really not much

- he went back into the living room

- you had finished making dinner

- “Do you want to eat here?”, you asked him

- “That would be amazing”, he replied

- you smiled and prepared 2 plates

- you both ate at the kitchen table

- he loved it

- like it was the first time he's had a home made meal

- since his mom just got pre made shit

- and he doesn’t know how to cook well

- so this was amazing

- in just a few seconds his plate was empty

- so him eating at your house became a thing

- he would walk you home

- you would cook dinner

- he’d probably sniff at everything

- he’d growl at your cat

- bc he doesn’t like you cat at all

- he has been trying to take you out on a date tho

- like he came up to you and asked if you wanted to spend an evening with him

- you declined

- he’s been trying for at least a month now

- you keep saying no

- he wasn’t even asking you directly

- like youd didn’t want to spend any time with him at all

- so he got angry

- stormed up to you in the library

- “You. me. dinner tonight, and you can’t say no”, then he stormed off

- you were in shock

- like he asked you out to dinner

- you were worried at first he would have an extravagant evening planned if you said yes

- and tbh you just wanted to go eat dinner at a restaurant with him

- you wore a red dress and black heels

- like you *italian kisses the air*

- that night he took you to a fancy restaurant

- and you two had a great time

- it was amazing

- he walked you home

- and when you walked inside

- he followed you

- and you didn’t know that

- so when someone spun you around

- and kissed your lips softly

- you were completely shocked.

- he left after that

- you were up all night thinking about him

- the next day you saw him at the library again

- and you were beyond flustered

- you were a blushing mess

- he smirked and walked up to you

- “WHat did you think of last night?”, he asked cooly

- you could face him like thats how embarrassed you were

- “I-I l-like t-the food, i-it was very n-nice”, you stuttered and looked away

- “Thats not what i was asking about”, he purred

- “What did you think of the kiss?”

- you could’ve died right there

- you just froze

- y/n.exe has stopped working

- He chuckled and shook his head

- “I think you liked it, so know that I know you did, I wanted to ask you something”, he chuckled and grabbed your hand and led you to the storage room

WARNING NSFW UP AHEAD

- he brought you to the storage room

- locked the door

- and pressed himself flush against you

- so you could feel his hot breath on your neck

- “Ever since I saw you”, he mumbled softly

- “I knew you were my omega”

- he started to kiss your neck softly

- “You looked so hot when you beat those men up”

- he kissed your collar bone softly

- you knew he intended to go lower

- and you were OK with it

- it might seem rushed in others eyes

- but to you and him, it didn’t

- I mean, it took him 3 months to get you on a date with him, and it took 1 month of convincing

- he looked up at you

- “Can i?”, he asked softly

- you were to shy to actually form an answer

- you just nodded your head

- he quickly took your shirt off leaving you in a skirt and bra

- he stared at your body with love

- you were so beautiful

- he kissed your cleavage before going behind your bra and just ripping it off

- your breasts bounced when they were released from their condiments

- you naturally covered up your chest from his eyes

- the audacity

- he was mad

- why would you be shy of him?

- Why wouldn’t you show him your body?

- like he was legit pissed

- he grabbed your hands and pressed them to your sides

- and he quickly latched onto your hardened nub and started to suckle harshly

- you bit your lip to hold back moans

- his other hand massaged the other breast

- he loved your taste

- and how your body slightly jerked everytime he rolled his fingers over the sensitive flesh

- he started to kiss your breast

- and slowly made his was down your stomach

- kissing at your flesh softly

- his fingers hooked around your skirt

- he slowly took it off

- and know you were only in your panties

- which were soaked btw

- he slowly took your panties off and stared at your exposed heat

- you looked away shyly

- he started to kiss your lower lips

- he discarded his pants and boxers so he was only in a loose shirt

- he quickly picked you up and pressed you gently against the wall

- your wrapped your legs around his waist

- he faqed u in a storage room

- then he marked you

- and you two bonded for life

#bakugou headcanons #omegaverse #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #smut rp

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leahseclipse · 4 years ago

Text

Difficult day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: (based on a prompt) Spencer and Reader give up coffee and help each other by trying to find ways to keep each other awake.

Warnings: Mentions of murder (not real, just ironically, don’t worry, nothing dangerous there.)

Word count: 2.3 k

A/N: Hi there- so uh, this fic is rly meant to be a silly little one, so it's a bit whack,(and not rly written well to me) I just wrote it bc the idea was there and I felt like writing it at 1am……………...so hope u enjoy a bit lmao (also i never drank coffee once, so I just researched stuff online and wrote it)

Deciding to start the day without coffee probably was a bad idea to think about, it just hit them while they were talking, and Spencer sort of announced the idea.

“Hey, why don’t we try to give up coffee, and see if we can survive without it, you know.”

What a...excellent idea.

She’s now looking like a zombie, wandering around, and can’t resist the idea of closing her eyes.

Y/N has been up since 6AM, and it’s about...11 now. Which felt more like a whole day.

The worst of all, is that she couldn’t even bug Spencer about it either, he decided to do it as well, but at least, she has a coffee-deprived friend to support her.

The real problem, is that, Hotch might not be happy with the consequences, which are...sleeping at work, so, not working.

What a great day ahead of them, yay.

She’s probably making a fuss about it, as after a bit of searching, it only lasts about a few days or so, but right now, she just wishes it could stop right now.

She already knows that as soon as Spencer is going to walk in the room and launch the subject, a mountain of facts is going to fall, and she wouldn’t even be aware of how long it’s, and when it’s ever going to stop.

Because, even if there’s four facts (which isn’t about to happen), he develops each of them in the form of essays, which seems like a whole conference.

Y/N doesn’t mind, it’s not annoying, she likes to hear about it, it gives more knowledge and stuff, but when it ends to be an essay long, especially when she doesn’t happen to have drunk coffee, things get complicated, in terms of focus.

Such as, being slightly, just a little, really not much irritated, but mostly tired as hell.

Working is not in her plans at all. Sleeping is.

Taking a day long nap, as much as possible, but, fucking work, has decided to annoy her, as much as it could, with a wonderful surprise: a pile of papers, that you have to read, think about, write about- as you think about it, make sure it’s well described, filled out, so your boss doesn’t bug you with it, causing you to re-write it, which...makes you lose motivation, as you have to go through the whole process, which makes you...even more tired.

She seriously has no idea how she’s going to make it through the whole day, and strangely feels like the coffee machine has been mocking her since she arrived.

All she wants is to hide it with whatever is in the room, or smash it against a wall, but that isn’t...possible, as not everyone is doing ‘their challenge’, if that can be seen as one, because to y/n, it’s more of a torture.

If Spencer didn’t have that pretty face to protect, she would punch him in the nose as soon as he’d appear in front of her.

That wasn’t even her idea, she didn’t think that when she mentioned it, he’d take it seriously, resume the subject and make it real.

She really regrets talking about it, because he didn’t just skip it or talk normally, no, Spencer doesn’t do that.

He really had to take it as far as he could.

Now she possibly wants to kill him, but unfortunately remembered that he’s going through the same thing, and will probably want to either kill her, or attempt something less violent, such as making her talk about a subject that interests him on purpose and make an essay out of it.

And, of course, steal all ways of distraction, and make sure she can’t go, because he also ‘tortures’ her by asking questions, and when she can’t answer, he develops it even more which makes the rest of the essay late, and last longer.

Again, it isn’t in a mean way, just annoying her as well.

They often do that, find ways to annoy each other, it’s kind of a habit they picked up throughout the years, they both find it distracting and can be a nice way to distract each other when work happens to be quite annoying.

But, never has she thought that he’d take the joke to the point of what keeps her awake.

That sneaky bastard even left a box of tea on her desk, and she would have probably thrown it out if it wasn’t so expensive.

If only he wasn’t doing it as well, oh, how she would have grabbed a knife from the kitchen to throw it at him.

Also, also, as if it couldn’t get any better, one of them had to stay awake, in case one happens to fall asleep.

Double the dose of fun.

She can’t wait to see him cross...the door.

Strangely, as soon as she told it, Y/N saw a well known face make his way through the bureau.

She even had to keep her from standing up and possibly strangle him.

He didn’t even stop to talk to other people, just said ‘hi’, and basic stuff you say when you arrive at work, and arrived at the conference room.

It happened to be empty, so she took the occasion and settled there.

“Oh, you’re already there? Thought you’d come in later.”

“I came early, because I knew that I’d ignore my alarm and possibly arrive an hour later than you...or not at all.”

“Okay. How are-”

“Dead. What about you?”

“The same.” Spencer said, as he sat up. “So, about it-”

“...knew it.”

“...why don’t we discuss so, you know, we distract ourselves from...the fatigue, and...all of the other effects that come with a coffee withdrawal?”

“Do I look like I have the energy to do that?”

“...no.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“To distract ourselves, as said.”

“My head hurts, I want to sleep, I’m pissed off, how do I even do that?”

“By trying to avoid bright lights...oh, yeah, that doesn’t work.”

“As figured.”

“So...if I understood well, we’re screwed for the rest of the week?”

“Exactly, genius.”

“Great plan.”

“It was your idea.”

“Can’t deny.”

“You could have chosen something else than fucking coffee Spencer.”

“I didn’t have any idea but that.”

“Come on. You always have a ton of stuff in that brain, and just on that day: nothing.”

“My brain lagged.”

“Oh, I forgot your brain is a computer now apparently.”

“It is one, I am my own computer, I just have a system that can fail, like a regular computer.”

“Which OS are you on? Genius OS? Because your ‘intelligent’ system sucks right now. I prefer Windows.”

“Hey, when we agreed to do that, insulting each other wasn’t part of the thing.”

“It’s the only thing I have in mind, because if I don’t do it, I’m either killing you, or sleeping to try to calm down. I could also do both. Murder, then sleep, and I just pretend someone walked in and killed you while I was sleeping.”

“...that’s not very nice.”

“It’s the nicest thing I’ll probably be saying today, so, enjoy.”

“I didn’t know that included you being rude. I’m also tired, but I don’t act meanly.”

“Oh, sorry, did I hurt your feelings?”

“...yes.”

“Too bad.”

“Rude.”

“ ‘s not.”

“If you continue like that, you’re going to be the one keeping watch.”

“We agreed on the other one doing it if one of us falls asleep. None of us are, we’ll see when one of us sleeps.”

"Is this a contest or what? You know that the minute one of us puts his head down on the table, they'll be out if nothing wakes them up?"

"Yeah, I know. But if that's a contest of who can stay awake longer, you're going to lose, you've been on coffee much longer, prepare to suffer."

"You look dead, you're the one that's going to sleep first. I almost caught you dozing off when I walked in."

"No you didn't."

"I did."

"...no."

"You're lying. That small "no" gave it all away."

"I talk like that in general. It's nothing."

"You talk like that just today. The only thing that hasn't changed is your squeaky voice."

"I don't have a squeaky- I have one."

"Told it."

"Oh, shut it."

"You'd be too sad.without my knowledge."

"No...I wouldn't."

"You're smart because of me."

"Mhm. 'f you tell so." She says, propping up her chin on her hands.

"You're already giving up five minutes in. You're very strong."

"Am not. I'm just...putting my hand on my hands, just that."

"Just that."

"Exactly."

"You don't know...how to lie properly." He said, stretching up a bit.

"You're going to be sleeping in a bit too."

"Don't you know me by now? I'm stronger than you."

"Hm. Elevator accident."

"That doesn't count."

"You had a small voice."

"I was just scared, okay? I- I don't like being in small spaces for too long."

"Says the 'strong man'."

"Okay, I'm not as strong as I said, but just a bit more, because being at your level equals being weak."

"Hm. Okay." Y/N lazily responds, as a pair of heels begins clacking onto the floor, the sound growing closer, until a familiar face comes in.

"Is there a meeting I wasn't informed of or what?" Garcia asks.

"No, we just sat here. Trying to stay awake, and y/n is that close to sleeping."

"Shut up, you were about to as well."

"And you're just here like that? Imagine if Hotch even found you guys."

"Yeah that'd- y/n. Y/N." Spencer raised his voice, trying to get her attention.

"Let me." Garcia interrupted, walking to her as she shook her. "Y/N, wake up and stand up, you two are going to follow me."

"Hm…? Where?"

"You're going to stay in my office for a bit, but just for today. I'm taking a risk by doing that."

"Do we get to sleep there?" Spencer asked.

"Just for a bit. Not all day, I'm doing you guys a favor here, you're going to have to find a big way to thank me if Hotch finds out and yells at me."

"Deal." Y/N answers, quickly stretching as she stands up, lazily walking to the exit along with the two.

It's been just half an hour until Hotch begins to wander around, wondering why he can't find either of them anywhere.

He just saw them walking in, and now, they're nowhere to be found.

No one else saw them since, and the only person left to ask would be Garcia, she's been in her office all day.

Just when she begins to make her way back, a stern voice calling her name interrupts her.

"Garcia. Did you see Reid and y/l/n?"

"No, I haven't seen them all day..must be doing work." She answers.

"They're in there, aren't they? They're nowhere else."

"...maybe?"

"They're supposed to be working, and I doubt that's what they're doing right now."

"But Hotch, leave them; this is how true love starts in fanfiction. Don't you see it?"

"Fan what…? I really have to get you drug tested some day."

"Fanfiction you know, it's stories that people write, it's all cute, in some they fall in love and all, so, that's why you have to leave them, they fell asleep on each other, and it's so cute."

"Garcia, I thought you agreed to stop reading that stuff at work, didn't you?"

"...I read them on breaks."

“Fanfiction or not, love or not, they’re not supposed to be sleeping, so, please don’t force me to break that door to come in.”

“Don’t yell, they were really tired, so I...offered them to stay. Mostly because I wanted to help, but also because they’re so cute, I couldn’t resist seeing them sleeping together.”

“That depends on how quick they can wake up.” Hotch announces, stepping to the entrance of the room.

When they both step in, you’re both sitting on chairs and Spencer is sleeping against y/n’s shoulder, while her head is on his.

As soon as Garcia wishes for Hotch not to wake them up, he steps further in the room, clearing his throat as his foot tapped against the tiles.

It didn’t take much for them to wake up, everyone knew that when Hotch’s voice was to be heard, you definitely had to be awake if you wanted to avoid a sermon.

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" Y/N stated, as if it could make the situation somehow better.

"Reid." Hotch said.

"I'm there, I- oh, did I...fall asleep on your shoulder? Sorry for that."

"As much as I'd like to reassure you, Hotch is behind, so that'll have to wait."

"Oh...sir."

"Care to explain?"

"Well uh...I don't think I actually have one."

"...we didn't have coffee for a day or two because we decided to stop so, yeah."

"Does this even look like a valuable reason?"

"No." They both admit.

"If I see this happen again, you're aware of the consequences."

"Yes sir." Spencer responds.

"Absolutely." Y/N answers, as the eyes of the group follow Hotch leaving the room, a sigh exiting their lips. "That was...the worst moment of my life."

"You two are disappointing, I was so excited to see a real life fanfiction, but you had to get caught."

"Garcia it doesn't exist, stop reading these. It's not like we're in love."

"It's because you don't know how to recognize true love y/n. You're a newbie."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Fairy tale stuff, you know. The couple falls in love, eventually gets married, has kids , and everything ends well."

"I think we should talk to Hotch about getting you to take a drug test or other." Spencer pointed out.

"We should."

#cm #cbs cm #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds Spencer Reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #aaron hotchner #Penelope Garcia #criminal minds fluff #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fluff

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fearfulkittenwrites · 4 years ago

Text

“Just a normal night”

Inspired by @s-mscott - link for the art, please check it out!

Word count: 2832

Notes: HEY. THIS IS JUST BEEN SITTING ON MY FILES FOR THE LONGEST TIME AND I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT DKJFHAKJHAKJDFH. Anyway, it's a long time coming. The writing probs isn't as neat or as good as the latest uploads bc of that, but... idk. Hopefully it's good! I couldn't bring myself to edit it again, sorry about that. I hope you can enjoy it anyways and please go check out the artist, @s-mscott!

“Guys?” Dick asked, on his tiptoes as he rummaged through every cabinet in the huge kitchen “Hey are we out of cereal? I can’t find my Lucky Charms anywhere.”

“I think so.” Jason answered “I ate the last of the Lucky Charms last night.”

“Yep.” Tim said, popping the ‘p’ as he slid through the countertop, landing a bit behind Dick “I had the last of the frosted flakes two days ago.”

“Froot Loops?” Dick asked.

“I had those.” Duke answered “Sorry.”

“Fruity Pebbles?”

Cass raised her hand, looking at the ground.

“Reese’s Puffs?”

“I finished the box yesterday.” Damian announced, crossing his arms as he leaned against the marble sink.

“Damn.” Dick murmured and pouted as he closed the cabinet’s door “I’ve been craving cereal today.”

“We can always go get some.” Jason shrugged.

“At three in the morning?” Duke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Actually, four.” Jason corrected, putting up a finger “And yeah, why not? I mean, we had a hard patrol tonight, and if Dick wants some cereal, I say let’s go get some cereal.”

“It’s four in the morning, Todd.” Damian said.

“I mean, the closest Walmart is open 24/7.” Tim interfered.

“You can’t be seriously considering this, Grayson.” Damian frowned at his older brother.

“Why not? I’m not sleepy anyways.” Dick crossed his arms and shrugged.

“Yes!” Jason hissed “Late night adventures with the baby bats. Let’s roll!” He clapped his hands once, and started to walk out of the kitchen, his siblings following him to the garage.

“Oh wait!” Dick said “Let’s ring up Bruce and see if there’s anything else we need.”

“Bold of you to assume he’d know what we need.” Tim interfered.

“Yeah, well, it’s worth a shot. Plus, do any of us really want to wake up Alfred to ask him?” Dick said, taking his communicator out of his pocket and placing it in his ear “B? Have a sec?” He asked

“Nightwing. What’s wrong?” Came the answer, Batman’s raspy voice flowing through the device.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. We’re going to take a quick trip to the supermarket, I wanted to ask if you need anything.”

“... At four in the morning?”

“Yeah. Do you need anything?”

Bruce sighed.

“We’re running out of the coffee blend that Tim likes. Alfred the cat’s favorite treats have been gone since last week, and Cass’ favorite ice cream is done. Oh, buy Duke that soda he likes, I drank the last can. Also, Jason’s cookies and that brand of chips you like, we ran out of those. Oh, and buy something with Iron in it, I’m worried that Damian might not be getting enough.”

“Like spinach?” Dick said, writing it down on his phone’s notes.

“Yeah, that’ll do. Ah, and we’re a little low on milk.”

“Okay. Will keep that in mind. Thanks B, have a nice patrol.”

“Please don’t give the papers any headlines.”

“You got it, B. Bye.”

He placed the device back on his pocket.

“Okay, there’s a lot of stuff to buy, so let’s get going. I’ll drive.”

“Shotgun!” Jason yelled.

“We’re taking the S.U.V., one of you will need to ride in the trunk.” Dick said.

“I’ll go.” Cass’ eyes twinkled. No one could understand why she was always so fascinated with the idea of riding in the trunk, but she seemed to find it fun and all of them thought that her excitement was cute.

“Alright then.” Dick smiled, ruffling her hair. Her grin grew wider, and Duke set her hair straight again before they got into the car.

“Hey, can I play my music?” Tim asked from the backseat.

“Don’t force us to listen to the atrocity Drake calls music, Grayson.” Damian complained, arms crossed “Let me play something.”

“Uh, I’d rather not listen to Mozart and Bach while we’re in the car.” Duke protested.

“It’s called classic for a reason, Thomas.”

“Doesn’t matter, bat-brat.” Jason said “I’m with him on this one. Besides, universal car rules, shotgun DJ’s.”

“Since when?” Tim asked.

“Since now.” Jason said, plugging his phone in.

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Dick took the cord from him “According to ‘Supernatural’ rules, ‘Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole’. So that’s mine.”

“No one else watches this show Dickhead!” Jason pulled the cord back.

“Doesn’t matter, because I’m older!” Dick pulled it back again.

“Age is just a number!” Tim pushed himself to the front seat and took the cord back.

“Great point Drake!” Damian pulled him back by his waist, stealing the cord from him too.

“Hey, stop with the fuss, I’m gonna crash the car!” Dick said.

“Maybe we should just play Beyoncé...” Duke suggested. The car went silent for a while.

“Okay.” Dick said “Put on ‘Single Ladies’.”

“No. ‘Halo’ is her best.” Damian complained.

“Uhm, no way? I’m playing ‘Drunk in Love’, and that’s it.” Tim shot back.

“Are you crazy? Play ‘Formation’.” Duke interfered.

“I like ‘Run the World’...” Cass said quietly from the trunk.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim murmured “We’ll play that.”

The girl smiled as the first notes from the song filled the car.

There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, which was expected. They picked up two carts, and Dick hopped inside the one Jason was pushing.

“Dude!” Duke started “You’re in your mid-twenties!”

“Leave me alone, I nearly sprained my ankle today.” Dick stuck his tongue out. No one else questioned anything beyond that. The employees simply sighed, used to the two older brothers and their antics.

“Hey Parker.” Jason greeted the nighttime security guard.

“Hey. I see you two brought the whole gang tonight.” He answered.

“Yup.” Dick smiled.

“So this is a regular thing for the two of you?” Duke asked.

“Are you really surprised, Duke?” Tim shot back.

“No. Not really.”

“Okay. First stop, Bruce said we need to get Tim’s coffee.” Dick exclaimed, looking at the list.

Jason led the way, Dick grinning like a child on the cart, Cass quietly following as she pushed their second cart, Duke making friendly conversation with her while Tim and Damian kept bickering right behind them.

“Oh, wait!” Dick held on to the metal bars “We’re right next to the cookies and Bruce said we’re out of your favorites, Jay.” He looked up.

“Alright, a little detour then.” Jason turned them around, quickly grabbing his treats “Anyone wants anything else from this aisle?”

“But... We don’t need anything else from the aisle.” Duke pointed out.

“Um, we have a billionaire’s credit card?” Tim said “Bruce won’t freak out if we buy a few extra things.”

“Uuuh, they have those koala shaped cookies!” Dick hopped out of the cart “How many do I get?”

“I want one.” Cass said.

“Chocolate or strawberries?”

“Uh… I want both.” She answered.

“Okay, one each for the lady, two strawberries for me...”

“I want a chocolate one.” Tim said.

“Me too.” Damian asked.

“Oh, just take twenty boxes, ten of each flavor.” Jason interfered, dumping them on Cass’ cart “We’ll share later.”

“Oh my God, those are expensive!” Duke said, exasperated.

“Yeah. So?” Jason shot back.

“Bruce is a billionaire, bro. He won’t mind.” Dick said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, it’s easy for you guys to say it. You grew up like that. It’s kinda hard to accept this when you aren’t used to having so much.” Duke answered, scratching his neck.

“Hey, I get that feeling lil’ bro.” Jason tapped his back “I spent my childhood in Gotham’s streets.”

“Yeah. I mean, I grew up in the circus. I wasn’t used to the idea of getting brand new stuff instead of asking for hand-me-downs from our friends whenever I grew out of my clothes.” Dick interfered.

“But... Just think about it like this.” Jason got closer to him “We now can get everything we couldn’t in the past.”

Duke frowned. Jason nodded encouragingly.

“That... Doesn’t help.”

“I tried.” Jason shrugged. Dick hopped back in the cart “To the coffee aisle!” He exclaimed, pushing his brother around.

“Hang on.” Tim said “This is where they leave the energy drinks. Let me take some.”

“Why do you insist on drinking this crap, Drake?” Damian scowled, reading the label in one of the cans “If you have such a death wish, jumping in front of a train is a much cheaper, quicker alternative.”

“Shut up, little devil.” Tim picked up cans from his favorite brand.

“Jason, push me a little farther down the aisle, please.” Dick asked “They keep their iced teas over there.”

“Ugh, Grayson, you disgust me.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so judgemental Lil’ D.” He smiled, being pushed away by Jason.

As they examined the cans, Dick noticed he had attracted the looks of a middle aged man, a couple of steps from them. He was staring at his hoodie, that contained the frase ‘I love dick’ printed on it.

“Oh,” He exclaimed, smiling at the guy “My name is Richard. That’s why it’s funny.” The man nodded “I’m also queer as fuck, so that makes it better.” He added nonchalantly, and the man’s eyes widened “Okay Jay, I picked up all I wanted, let’s go back.”

“Alright you little shits, back to the coffee quest.” Jason said, leading the way once again. This time, they finally made it to the coffee aisle. Tim crouched down, looking for his favorite blend.

Cass got a little curious once she laid eyes on a colorful package on the top shelf. She picked it up and handed it to Dick.

“Read. Please.”

“This is an espresso roast. Here it says that it has notes of strawberry? Vanilla and... Sugar cane. Colombian coffee. Seems nice. Wanna take it?”

“Yes.” She nodded. Dick dropped it on his cart.

Cass wandered away, still looking at all of the coffee blends.

“Hey girlie,” A guy whistled at her, next to his group of friends “Nice ass.”

She squinted at them.

“Yo, asshole!” Tim screamed, getting their attention “That’s our sister!” He threw a bag of coffee beans at the guy’s face, causing his nose to bleed.

“Hey, who do you think you are?” One of them started to walk up to her brothers. Cass could tell that he wanted trouble, so she grabbed his arm and slammed his face against the shelf, so quickly and brutally that it barely budged, leaving the products unbothered, but the guy fell to the floor, disoriented. She stared at him.

“We are Waynes.” Damian answered, pacing towards them quietly, hands on his pockets “I suggest you apologize immediately for the troubles, if you wouldn’t want to get a hefty lawsuit for your harrasment.”

“Uh, sorry bro.” One of them started, a little scared “We didn’t-”

“Not to me.” He interrupted “To her.”

“We’re sorry, miss Wayne.” All of them mumbled.

“Now promise you won’t do it again.” Damian added.

“We won’t do it again.” They started at the floor, next to where their fallen friend laid down.

“Good.” He squinted “Help your friend up, and get out of my sight.”

They did as they were told, helping his friend walk straight again. As Cass headed back, Dick gently touched her arm, looking up at her.

“Hey, are you alright?” She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He smiled back.

“Does this happen often?” Jason asked.

“Sometimes.” She shrugged “But they always say sorry after I break their nose.”

“Ayy, that’s our girl.” Jason praised “Alright, we got the coffee. Where to next?”

“Let’s see... Next item is Alfred the cat’s treats.” Dick said.

“Ha!” Damian laughed loudly “As if Alfred would eat the... peasant treats that this store offers. No. I’ve already bought the adequate brand from an online shop.”

“Okay...” Dick raised an eyebrow “Then... Cass’ ice cream is next, but I think we should leave that as the last item, so it won’t melt, which leads us to Duke’s soda because Bruce had the last can.”

“Let’s go then. I think that the cereal aisle is on the way, so we’ll get that first.” Jason said, pushing the cart around again.

“Which ones do we get?” Tim asked, looking through the shelf.

“Everything that has sugar.” Dick answered. His brother began handing him boxes, when they heard a small whisper.

“Oh my God, are those...?” A girl said to her friend, attracting the eyes of the siblings. The duo averted their gaze quickly. Cass frowned at them.

“Relax.” Jason smiled, placing an arm on her back “They’re probably just... Fans.”

“Fans?” She asked, still staring suspiciously at them.

“Yeah.” Dick shrugged “I mean, we’re not super stars, but we do hit the papers pretty often. A bunch of people know us here in Gotham.” The girls were looking again, and Dick gave them a small wave, making them giggle “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“Hum.”

“Hey there, ladies.” Jason greeted, a cheeky smile on his face “What brings you to this fine establishment tonight?”

“We ran out of energy drinks.” One of them answered “What about you?”

“Cereal.” Dick answered, lifting two boxes. They giggled again.

“Hey, um... can we maybe get a picture?” The girl asked “It’s just that... no one will believe us when we tell them about this.”

“Absolutely not!” Damian answered.

“Nah, don’t listen to the little brat.” Jason said “Go ahead.”

Dick held up the boxes again, smiling as Jason made a ‘crazy’ motion with his hands. Tim turned around as the photo was being taken, turning him into a blurr with tired eyes.

“Can we get some selfies too?” The other one asked, grinning.

“No!” Damian protested again.

“Of course you can!” Dick said “Duke, Cass, come here.” He called.

All of them gathered around the cart Dick was staying at, even Damian. He didn’t look so pleased as the photo was taken, but neither did Cass.

“Thanks. You guys really are nice.” The first girl said.

“Oh, you have no clue on how nice I can be.” Jason winked, making her blush “Tell you what, why don’t I give you my phone number and you can text me those pictures later, hm?”

“Sure.” The girl bit her lips as Jason scribbled his number on her wrist.

“You are such a flirt.” Dick rolled his eyes as the girls walked away.

“What, like you aren’t?” Jason snorted, pushing him away, looking for where they kept the soda.

“I think Cass didn’t like that interaction very much.” Tim whispered to his older brothers, who turned around to find a frowning baby bat. Jason chuckled.

“What’s wrong, sis?” She scowled at him “Oh, c’mon, don’t get jealous.” He threw an arm around her shoulder “You know you’ll always be our number one girl, but a guy has his needs. And sometimes, a guy needs a date.”

Cass pushed him away, rolling her eyes as Duke placed five soda cans on her cart.

“Why would you even drink this sugar filled monstrosity, Thomas?” Damian asked, reading the labels “Grandfather wouldn’t even feed his prisoners something as revolting as this.”

“Because, Bat-brat,” He said “We’re all entitled to enjoy at least one or two things that may ultimately be responsible for our deaths.”

“I suppose.” He murmured, lifting an eyebrow “You make much finer points than the rest of them. Father has been looking for heirs in the least suitable places, I assume.” He clicked his tongue “It’s a good thing I’m here to help.”

“Okay...” Duke answered, raising his eyebrows and averting his gaze. There was only so much strangeness that he could handle.

“Great, now we need to get my chips and spinach.” Dick stated.

“Spinach?” Tim asked “Why spinach?”

“B thinks Damian may have been needing more iron in his diet.” Dick shrugged.

“Aaw.” Tim said “That’s actually kinda cute. Do you think he ever worries about our diets?”

“Don’t be stupid Tim, of course he doesn’t.” Jason answered.

“He does.” Dick shot back “He worries about us, he just... Really, really, really, reaaaally sucks at showing it sometimes.”

“Potatoe, potatoe.” Jason murmured.

“Yeah, whatever. Keep me moving Little Wing, we have stuff to pick up and my tiredness is catching up to me.” Dick pointed forward.

“Sure. But the chips are in the opposite direction.”

“Well turn me around then, do you want me to look like an idiot?” Dick said, a little exasperated.

“I wish you had an off button sometimes.” Jason sighed as he made his way to the chips section.

An employee, mopping the floor with a bored expression, looked up from what he was doing when he saw the Wayne gang talking loudly. Dick tried to control his brothers from inside the cart, and had just told Jason to separate a fight between Tim and Damian. Duke and Cass snicker as they saw a bored, six feet tall Jason pushing his much smaller brothers apart.

“Yep.” The employee murmured to himself “Billionaires shopping at Walmart at four in the morning. Just a normal night.”

Hey! If you made it this far, please consider reblogging this? It helps with spreading my fics and it makes me very happy, hahahaha!

Regardless, thanks for reading <3

#batfamily #BatFam #Batbrothers #batsiblings #fanfiction

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

Note

i typed out a Whole thing and then changed my mind but how about like lazy sunday in before the work week w t-shirt verse jalex? ily bye x

omg hello this got (1) away from me and (2) so ridiculously romantic i have no excuse. there’s just something about t-shirt jalex. also i am currently taking suggestions for what color alex’s hair should be in this ‘verse bc as of now it is unspecified. okay hope you like it x

read here on ao3

Alex is at the stove. Jack’s barely awake and this is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Morning,” he croaks, slumping forward to affix himself to Alex’s back. Alex staggers, laughing quietly.

“Good morning, my love,” he says. The kitchen always feels somehow both bigger and cozier with Alex in it, spacious but flooded with love. Love, Jack finds, smells like pancakes and tastes like Alex’s toothpaste and feels like sunlight and the cotton of Alex’s shirt under his fingers. It fits nicely into Jack’s kitchen. Their kitchen.

Their kitchen. Jack is still having a hard time getting used to that.

“You didn’t have to get up,” he mumbles against Alex’s shoulders. “Coulda slept in.”

Alex shrugs. “Was up anyway. Thought it’d be nice to make breakfast.”

“But it’s nice to cuddle,” Jack points out, eyes still closed. He presses his nose into Alex’s neck, inhaling deeply. “Mm, you’re warm.”

Alex’s deep, gentle laugh fills the air. “You’re clingy.”

“It’s cold,” Jack slurs. Slowly but surely, the atmosphere is seeping into his senses, pleasantly waking him up. “I love you for making pancakes.”

“I know you do.”

“Gonna make tea.”

“I prepared your mug and boiled the water already. You just need to pour it.”

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re the love of my life?” Jack presses his lips to the tattoo behind Alex’s ear, lingering a moment.

“Doesn’t hurt to hear,” Alex says happily. Jack reluctantly detaches himself from his boyfriend’s body to go and make himself some tea.

Tea is a weekend drink. Jack drinks coffee to get through the mind-numbing work days, but tea is for Sundays like this one. It’s nine in the morning and Jack can already feel the laziness of the day settling over their shoulders; they’re going nowhere today, doing nothing. It’s not often a perfect Sunday comes along, but Jack clings to the opportunity whenever it does. Like today.

Dust hovers in the beams of light stretching through the room and the apartment feels alight with a glittering January. Unlikely warmth starts in Jack’s chest and spreads outwards, something he can’t even attribute to the tea since he hasn’t begun to drink it yet.

Glancing over at Alex, humming to himself as he flips the pancakes, the warmth intensifies. Oh, Jack thinks, not particularly surprised.

It stands to reason that the love filling the kitchen would saturate his body as well.

Light spills over Alex, highlighting strands of hair and shining on his skin, brown eyes glowing almost as golden as the sunlight. It makes Jack wonder why he’s not a poet or something, except there aren’t words for this image, and Jack would be hard-pressed to come up with an original way to phrase what thousands of artists have already expressed.

He takes a picture. They’re worth a thousand words, if what they say is true, and that’s close enough.

Alex looks up at the movement. Jack just smiles and shamelessly takes another, catching the fond look on Alex’s face before setting his phone face-down on the table again.

“Stop it, you creep,” he says. “Help me with this.”

“Alex, I’m so fucking bad at crosswords,” Jack says, shifting his chair around the table anyway. “You know this.”

“But you know things that I don’t! Together we can solve it.”

“You could also solve it on your own.”

Alex shakes his head. “You’re overestimating my skills. I don’t think I’ve completed a Sunday puzzle in, uh, my entire life.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you,” Jack says wryly, “but I am not your secret weapon.”

Alex reaches for Jack’s hand and brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss over Jack’s knuckles. “Yes you are.”

Jack sighs. He’s a sucker for Alex and he doesn’t see that trend slowing anytime soon. “Fine. Give me one.”

“Here, I bet you know this one.” A tap of the pen against the newspaper next to the clue for 6-Down. “‘For You’ co-singer Rita.”

“Ora,” Jack says immediately. “Everyone knows that song.”

“Ora,” Alex repeats to himself, like something he should have known to know. “Actually, I didn’t. See? Already fulfilling your secret weapon duties.”

The puzzle is sparsely and randomly filled out. “Why don’t you go in order?”

“Because I don’t know 1-Across,” Alex says. “And if I stopped there it’d be a very short puzzle.”

Jack hums, skimming the list of clues for any other answers he might have. Most of the clues he thinks he could get are ones Alex has already filled in. Some are ones Jack would never have known. “What the fuck is a superlative prefix? ‘Most’?”

“Yeah, like…high school superlatives,” Alex says. “Most likely to make it big. Most likely to, uh, go to jail after graduation.”

“What the fuck were your high school superlatives?” Jack says, amused. “I didn’t know that’s what they were called.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is wrong, though,” Alex says, face drawn in thought. He’s doing the hair-twirling thing again so Jack interrupts the motion, linking their fingers together and scratching gently at the nape of Alex’s neck. Alex hardly seems to notice. “Because I’m pretty sure 4-Down is ‘prince’.”

“‘Hamlet, for one,’” Jack reads from the clues list. He shakes his head. “I’m starting to think you’re smarter than me, Al.”

“Starting to?”

Jack scoffs and stabs at the remaining pancake on Alex’s plate, mostly because he knows Alex isn’t going to finish it. “Hey.”

“I’m teasing, completely joking,” Alex says, leaning into Jack and briefly resting his cheek against Jack’s shoulder. “I’m definitely not smarter than you. I teach middle school. If anything, that automatically makes me more of a dumbass.”

“You love doing that, though.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah. You can love something and still be an idiot for doing it, though.”

“Like being in a relationship with you.” Jack giggles. “Joking. Just kidding. I’m just kidding.”

“You better be,” Alex says lightly. “I know a lot of your deepest darkest secrets, Jack Barakat, and I am not afraid to unleash a pack of twelve-year-olds on you.”

Jack would like to argue that a horde of twelve-year-olds doesn’t scare him, but it does. It very much does.

“Fine,” he says. “You win this round.”

Alex kisses his cheek. As he moves away, Jack turns his head and kisses him on the lips. “You taste like pancakes.”

“You taste like you,” Alex replies, and it doesn’t sound sweet, but it really, really is. Jack licks his lips. He’s not sure what exactly he tastes like, but it charms him to think that it’s always more or less the same, or at least that Alex finds something familiar in every kiss he steals off Jack’s lips.

“Okay,” he says, leaning over the newspaper spread out before them. “We can do this. Who was in The Irishman?”

Whoever said that thing about how it’s better to have tried and failed than to never have tried at all might have been onto something.

They concede to the crossword puzzle after almost an hour of staring at it. To Jack it seems pathetic, until Alex grins at him and promises that this is rather impressive considering when he tries to do it alone he only ever gets, like, ten answers, and they’re often wrong.

Half-finished really isn’t so bad.

The rest of the afternoon and evening stretches out before them, in all its unscheduled glory, and Jack, like the mature adult he is, pulls Alex to the couch and insists they spend at least three hours of the day watching TV.

His second mug of tea is sitting, partially drunk, on the coffee table, Alex’s empty mug beside it. Jack’s is going cold but he’s warm with Alex’s head in his lap, eyes closed as Jack pushes a hand through his hair, and he can’t find it in himself to care. As a compromise, they’ve put on Project Runway, something Alex loves Jack enough to sit through but doesn’t care enough about to pay attention to. If Jack were a more petty person, he would be annoyed by this, but he’s not. Having Alex like this is arguably better, essential in the task of keeping Jack’s thighs warm and also giving Jack something to look at when the urge strikes him.

The angles of Alex’s face and the way his hair flops over his forehead are enough to keep Jack mesmerized for hours.

It’s in one of these moments of weakness, Jack gazing down at the boy in his lap instead of watching the high-stakes but decidedly less enchanting events unfold on the TV, that Alex opens his eyes. His gaze catches Jack unawares, but Jack doesn’t flinch.

“You’re not even watching,” Alex huffs, smirking. “It was your idea to watch something and you aren’t even watching it.”

“I’ve got a better view right here,” Jack says.

Alex just rolls his eyes. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing clumsily at the front of Jack’s shirt.

“I don’t think I am physically capable of kissing you from this angle.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Alex picks his head up and pulls Jack down, and it’s not ideal or particularly attractive, but Jack has to admit that they do, technically, kiss, thus proving Jack wrong, which is probably in Alex’s top ten favorite things to do. Only for a second, though, before Jack pulls away.

“I stand corrected, but I also kind of hated that,” he says.

Alex laughs, musical and bright. “Sorry. Let me try again.” He shifts around, straightening up until his feet are on the floor and his body is upright, and this time Jack has no complaints when Alex curls his fingers around the collar of Jack’s t-shirt and drags him in.

Project Runway isn’t exactly the ideal soundtrack to making out on the couch, but Jack’s not picky.

A fluttering touch lands on Jack’s hip, sneaking just under the hem of his shirt to rest against his skin. Alex releases Jack’s shirt, sliding his other hand up and around to cradle Jack’s face, thumb brushing his jaw. The show in the background fades to nothing, as so often the world does when Alex’s lips are on his. Everything is Alex and Alex is everything — and maybe that’s always true, but it’s easier to sink into when they’re attached in so many places, lips under teeth and noses brushing cheeks and hands forever tracing skin, clothes, hair, whatever ends up beneath Jack’s fingertips.

It’s looking more and more like the love in the kitchen hadn’t been confined to the kitchen. Or maybe it had never been about the kitchen, but the company. And maybe Jack has known this all along, and the love he feels for Alex follows him around like a stray dog, like a best friend, like a promise. It bleeds from him, infusing itself into the air without ever lessening in himself. Sometimes it trips off his tongue.

Often it does.

“I love you,” Jack murmurs, like he’s just a ragdoll stuffed with love who’s coming apart at the seams, another stitch undone whenever Alex touches him. He’ll keep spilling this love over them and somehow he’ll never run out, and if that makes him weak then Jack is content to be weak.

Alex only laughs a little, but it’s not mean-spirited, just sweet. “Would it surprise you to know that I love you, too?”

It wouldn’t. This is the secret to Jack’s never-ending supply: the love he gives is the love he receives.

“I love you for making me breakfast,” Jack whispers, pressing his lips to Alex’s cheek, just outside the corner of his eye. “And for the tea. And for making me do the crossword puzzle with you. And for watching shitty reality TV with me.” With each proclamation he brushes a kiss to Alex’s forehead, his other cheek, the corner of his mouth. Alex’s smile stretches across his face, crinkling his eyes by the time Jack kisses him again, for real, though he still returns it to the best of his ability.

It doesn’t last long. “You don’t play fair, JB,” Alex breathes, then laughs again like he can’t help it. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

“You could start with ‘I love you too,’” Jack suggests, slanting a breezy smile at Alex. “That usually works.”

Alex gathers Jack’s wrists in his hands and kisses his palms, one after the other, before lifting his gaze back to Jack. In the light of the apartment, Jack has never seen anyone more beautiful. The truth of his own earlier words washes over him like a sedative, a comforting tranquilizer.

“Doesn’t feel like enough,” Alex admits, “but I’m not sure this love can be put into words, you know?”

Jack does know.

“Though it’s worth saying,” Alex continues, sliding his hands into Jack’s until their fingers are interlaced, “that I love you for doing the impossible crossword with me, and I love your half-drunk cups of tea, and I loved you in the morning and I love you right now and when we go to sleep tonight, I’ll love you then, and every night after that for the rest of my life, you know what? I’ll love you for those too.”

Jack understands that these are big, big words, promises that are much easier to make than keep. But with Alex holding his gaze and his hands right now, sheltered from the real world or maybe creating it, he knows that Alex means every word, and Jack does too.

#jack barakat #alex gaskarth #jalex #jalex fic #all time low #atl fic #fic #my fic #holy FUCK this is fluffy and romantic and ???????#one of the lines in this makes me lose it #i know i wrote it but it makes me LOSE it #ok i am gonna draft this until it's a good time to post it #aka probably in a day or two #bc the malum thing just posted tonight #by the way it is fully 7am #i wrote this in the last two hours #the sun has risen and the sky is a beautiful pastel rn #in case anyone was wondering #boy. my sleep schedule. it sure is. uh. a thing that does not exist #(insert calum yikes emoji)#man.........the words in this fic. the sentences #every single thing i write is like literally one word away from making absolutely no fuckin sense #arguably it already does not #i had to stop listening to my love songs playlist and put on this playlist of instrumental romantic music #cos i was trying to be poetic and shit but there were all these fuckin LYRICS going on and it was Not Happening #ANYWAY into the drafts this goes see yall in a little bit #tirednotflirting #ask #answered #ok im posting this now at half 1pm but . dont get me wrong. i wrote and drafted it at 7am

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dashielldeveron · 4 years ago

Text

Viper VIII: Inter Vivos

*author slaps bumper sticker across ass that reads I BREAK FOR QUARANTINE*

Summary: You have a thought that only Steve Urkel and black-out drunks can have: did I do that?

Warnings: swears, the law. Murder/death. Stupid internet comments.

Show (3719) Comments on “There is Nothing New Under the Sun, But You Are New in Your Conglomeration.”

skellingtonbabey: thanks for putting all of the *gestures vaguely* into historical context. no one’s ever bothered to explain this shit to me, especially in such simple and thorough language. it’s like every other resource i try to learn from is stylistically designed to make me more confused.

readyplayer69: Just because it’s from the 60s and is racist doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have intrinsic value based on the goal towards which it was working. You’re a fucking lunatic. I have a degree in political science, so I know what the fuck I’m about. Though some of the protests may have excluded the minorities you’re talking about, it doesn’t mean that they weren’t ultimately working towards good fucking policies for everyone involved. It’s not like they were doing anything important then anyway; white people had to be the mouthpiece for…Read More

volcanolesbian: bro have u seen the incels freaking out over this???? it got linked in their cursed forum and they SO BADLY wanted u 2 hate women now. like you can regress from being a feminist once you’ve woken up. they’re giving u shit bc you called out the racist terrorists who were active in their community lmao. i can post screenshots if u want. But bruv it’s like they haven’t read anything you’ve written before lol

mozARTsexandviolins: I get when you say that ingenuity spawns ideals for the greater good, but don’t you think tradition has its place? How do we know if the new can spawn the greater good? How do we judge ourselves? Who watches the watchers?

simpleplan2eatthedirt: cool cool nice nice. protesting is awesome, but be sure to get out there to fucking VOTE, people!!! Here’s a link to register to vote.

EaterJohn: Hello. It is nice to hear from you again, Epiales. Always a treat. Very insightful commentary on modern and past protests. I didn’t know about all of the revolutions in Europe 1848. I’ve send this to my co, and it’s already sparked a good conversation about who we are as a protesting people as we stand in history. Again, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering when the next article in your “Aeneid Autopsies: Current Crimes Reflected in Ancient Times” series was going to be released? It’s my…Read More

horneyvulcanbasterd: @mozARTsexandviolins Is that a Star Trek reference? Bc if so the answer’s Starfleet Command lol

MrsKatsukiBakagou: epiales. you have watered my crops and harvested my fields. thank you for the food.

mightiestavengereatmyass: eat shit and die, commie scum. your just a hired propagandaist for the fucking alt-left, aren’t you? You have no right to be running your collum in a real newspaper or on this fucking website. sending u anthrax in the mail would be too cool a death for you. I hope your so-called terrorist groupsfind out where you live and fucking murder you in the middle of the night. fukcs like you are the reason the country is going to shit the police have a total constitutional right int aht jurisdiction to enter. They had a no knock…Read More

fuckyouit’sjanuary: @readyplayer69 [image attached] [image description: blonde woman with caption reading, “I can tolerate racism, but I draw the line at looting the local target]

saltnpepa!!diner707: Hi. I’m trying to cite this piece in an essay, but your publisher isn’t listed on your website. Would you suggest using the NYT as the source in my bib? If it helps, this is due new week; idk if this will run in the NYT by then. Thanks

“I’m sending someone on a grocery run this morning,” said Tom, thumbs tapping away on his phone, “Do you need anything? Want anything?”

You glanced up from your laptop, closing it as much as you could without the light dimming. “I think I’m good, unless you used the last of the shredded cheese at some point.”

“Shredded…cheese,” he said under his breath, typing, “You mentioned capri-suns the other day.”

“Yeah, but I can tolerate the nasty, new flavour. No rush. Here’s a wild idea,” you said, and you waited until he looked up from his phone, a couple of ungelled curls falling over his forehead. “What if—now, don’t dismiss me as crazy; hear me out—what if we went to the store ourselves?”

“Again, no.” Tom grasping his coffee by the round of the mug, despite there being a perfectly functional handle. “Stop pressing me for it.”

“I’m not asking to go to a damn Broadway play. I’m asking to go to the closest 7-11,” you said, jiggling your leg and then making a conscious decision to stop fidgeting, instead scooting your chair closer under the table so that the arms slid underneath.

Tom hummed, his eyes not leaving his phone screen, but when you didn’t continue, he raised an eyebrow as he scowled at you. “Broadway is shut down because of the bomb threat.”

“Fuck off; you know what I meant.”

“Viper,” said Tom, and he locked his phone to set it on his napkin. “Do you want to get assassinated?”

“The term assassination implies I’m getting murdered for political reasons instead of the copious other crimes you’ve had me commit. So, I invite it.” Put your hands on the table where he can see them; it makes you seem more trustworthy. “Does 7-11 have an open carry policy?”

“If it’s any consolation, the renovated office should be waiting for you when you return.”

“It’s not.” You lifted your mug to your lips. “Working from here only makes me feel like a damn bureaucrat. Like I have no stake in the matter. I don’t want to become detached from everything; I might make a callous decision and send people where they can’t come back.”

“Keep watching yourself. If you stay on guard,” said Tom, running his middle finger around the rim of his mug, “then you won’t stray from me.”

“I’m useless here.”

“Then maybe you should become accustomed to the idea of being useless.”

Swallowing, you stared down into your tea. “There’s only so much I can get done through answering emails. Not to mention I hate answering emails. That’s how you get more emails.”

“Harrison has been telling me that your schematics have been more thorough since you’ve been holed up in here.” Tom tipped his mug all the way back to get the last of his coffee. “You’re still being just as productive, if not more methodical.”

“Did you mean obsessive? I have—I’ve had too much time to think. I’d rather not be alone with my thoughts, if I can help it.”

***

You could only read so much before losing your mind. You could only deal with so many of the same exact problems over and over again for lower level soldiers. You could only chart so many stars. You could only read so much fanfiction (if your identity thief were tracking your phone, he’d probably be baffled as to why you kept reading fic for fandoms you weren’t even a part of due to the desire for new ideas).

You could only give Glory Pham so many excuses as to why you’re not with her in person at the Museum of Natural History.

Sucking in through your teeth, you hovered your fingers above the keyboard.

Dear Ms. Pham,

Glad to hear John Mulaney’s signed on. Next step would be to ensure de Blasio doesn’t directly interact with him, given their history. Perhaps I should proof his set beforehand?

Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that I cannot attend the briefing in person yet again. I am currently indisposed, seeing as I am currently in hiding at my hot boss’s house, due to how dead I might be should I leave it (thus the basis of its appeal). Not to mention that if you criticise my blazer choices again, I shall peel the skin off your perfectly made-up face. Get fucked; getting your eyeliner tattooed on was a hell of a decision.

You shook your head, backspaced the last few lines, and stretched towards the wicker end table to grab your glass of pink lemonade, and you stole a glance at Tom’s work as you did so. A couple of files spread across his white wicker lounger (two blue files [socials of the family], two green [recent bids], a yellow [Manhattan locations], and a brown [requests from politicians, upper East side]). The pink sticky-notes had your and his written exchanges and edits on certain papers, and his laptop was open, the screen dimmed, while he copied something into a notebook with his cell phone held between his shoulder and his ear, just listening to the computerised voice.

He had joined you on the back porch to work remotely, claiming he couldn’t go into the city today due to the absence of news on Zendaya—if any information arose, he’d said he wanted your diagnosis immediately.

You wiped your forehead with your sleeve as a sweat drop slinked behind Tom’s ear. Even Tessa wouldn’t run in the heat; she’d curled up by the porch railing, her tail slapping against her water bowl. In an experiment to see if she wanted to spend some time outside, you’d slid the glass door open for Trout, to which she turned around to retreat to the bedroom.

Not all of the clothes you’d ordered had arrived yet, so you were stuck wearing autumnal clothes with long sleeves. To exacerbate matters, you were constantly moving—jiggling your leg, tapping your fingers—you couldn’t sit still for very long anymore; you had taken to pacing the porch when you couldn’t concentrate on the stars.

(Once, Tom had come out at night to check on you, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and sitting in silence with you. He’d made you go to bed after a while, claiming you’d run yourself into the ground if you kept this restlessness up.)

When your phone beeped, the both of you jolted at the sound. Tom hung up on the robotic voice as you scrambled to your phone, and he bent your way. “Is it Zendaya?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shook your head. “No. Looks like it’s a jailbreak.”

Tom sighed, his shoulders heaving as he eased back in his seat. “Where from?”

“I don’t even care,” you said, letting your phone fall to your lap. You slumped back in your chair, shielding your eyes from the sun with your arm. But you straightened yourself again and checked. “From Central. They don’t even know who’s all escaped yet.”

“It’d be too much of a gift if New York City would fucking relax for five minutes.”

“It seems like it’s in more uproar than usual lately,” you said, sipping through the reusable straw of your pink lemonade. “Do you suppose it’s our fault?”

Tom took a moment to pluck his damp t-shirt away from his chest. “I don’t think we’re instigating. If anything, we’re simply reacting to chaos.” He stood up and stretched, raising his arms above his head—his biceps strained at the sleeves, and the hem rose above his v-lines. “Unless you’re doing something I don’t know about.”

Ah, casual suspicion. “You’ve caught me,” you said as he approached Tessa and crouched next to her, “I’ve been running a koi smuggling gig on the side.”

“Why koi?” He held out his hand for Tessa to sniff, and she readily accepted his hand for pats. “Are they hard to get?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging, “but I’ve been wondering if they’d be able to survive in your grist mill pond. You look through that water straight to the bottom, nothing living in your way. Just rocks and old equipment.”

Tom sat against the porch railing with a jittery Tessa partially in his lap. “Should we get some?”

“Oh, fuck off, Tom,” you said, grinning, a sweat drop falling onto your mousepad as you shook your head, “You can’t entertain every little pipedream I have.”

“Watch me. What do you want for Christmas?”

You ducked your head, biting your lip. “Promise me something.”

“Provided it’s not my head on a stake, I will,” he said, scratching Tessa behind her ears and cringing a bit when she stretched to lick his face.

“Then we’re going in person to the pre-opening fundraising gala for the Gawain Diamond.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “Viper.”

“Bitch, I got John Mulaney to sign on to do the opening monologue, and he’s probably gonna roast de Blasio again. I’m not missing that.”

Your phone blared an alert again, and both of you held your breath as you unlocked it.

“Got a list of prisoners who escaped. Small group. Delores, Larson, Duncan, Mays, Selvin,” you said, “There’s more, but I don’t know them. Tell us something important, by God. Anyway, we’re going. I didn’t say I was going alone, did I? You’ll be there. I’ll be safe, and you’ll be safe.”

His jaw shifting to the side, Tom stilled his hand on Tessa’s back, and then he lifted it to flick sweat off his neck. “How many of us maximum can you get in?”

“It’s a fundraiser for idiotic rich people; if there are too many people without a name, they’ll be noticed.”

“It can’t be just us.”

“Why? Afraid you can’t protect me on your own?”

“Now, don’t start that.” Tom herded Tessa off his lap and onto her outside bed. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fully aware you’re capable of ripping me in half,” you said, draining your pink lemonade, the airy suction coming through your straw (almost loud enough that you couldn’t hear Tom’s sputtering over it—almost—and his phone beeping). “Want me to get that?”

“Bring it here,” he said, and you snatched it while he sat on the railing, dangling his legs off the side.

“It’s,” you said, eyebrows shooting to your hairline as you read the little notification, “It’s a tweet from Zendaya.” You tossed it to him to unlock and leant on the railing next to him, arm grazing his thigh with a heightened awareness of how close you were to his sweaty, sweaty abdomen. No! No time to thirst. Friend time.

Tom unlocked his phone and held it at your eye level, turning it horizontally as he pulled up the tweet.

ZENDAYA (@ZendayaMedias): Felt cute. Might delete later.

[video]

Tom pulled up the clip, waiting for it to load. “Why didn’t she post it to instagram, then?”

“The finer details of social media are an enigma. Do I look like I know,” you said, and his thumb hovered over the play button.

He cranked the volume up before pressing play, having to try twice due to how slippery his fingers were. “I wonder if Haz has seen this yet.”

A vertical shot of a murky, grey sky from the bow of a boat and dark ocean as far as the camera can see. It pans across the starboard side, and this boat is the only one in sight.

Only the sound of waves striking the boat.

The camera tilts down. Zendaya’s writhing on the deck, furiously straining against rope bonds that line up the entirety of her arms and up her calves; she’s yelling furiously at the person behind the camera through duct tape.

Scuffed, black boots roll Z to the starboard gunwale. She’s still fighting, still shouting.

The camera trucks to the right; before, the pair of cinderblocks attached to her feet were concealed. It returns to her face. A glove grabs part of her hair to show the weights tied into it. She bucks up to headbutt the camera; he avoids it.

Tom clenched his free hand on his thigh. “We’re running another scan for that black-stubble bell jackass from her instagram; did we have any fucking leads at all? What’s his fucking motivation? So he slept with her, allegedly; did she say no to a second time? Doesn’t fucking merit—”

The boot kicks the cinderblocks off the boat, and the camera tilts down to follow the trail of bubbles.

It’s quiet.

But then the camera pans to portside, where the guy in the picture with Zendaya is similarly tied up, but he’s openly weeping and shaking his head. He’s got something drawn on his forehead in black marker. The cameraman steps closer to focus on it: it’s a circle with an upward curve resting on top of it.

He’s still wearing the bell necklace.

Then the cameraman backs away and raises a gloved hand, in which a gun is aimed at the other’s forehead.

The bullet goes through the circle, and the bell rattles as he’s kicked off. Fewer bubbles.

Then the camera tilts up to show off the boat’s surroundings: a black and barren ocean, as far as the eye can see.

When the video started to loop, Tom switched his screen off, his phone hanging loosely in his grip. You released of his thigh once you noticed you’d grabbed onto him, and the evidence of your touch faded as the fabric relaxed.

His eyes glossed over at the blank screen, and his mouth opened before closing again, running his tongue over his lower lip. Tom brought a fist to his mouth and furrowed his brow, his hand hardly concealing the growing tremble of his jaw.

You took a step away from him, rubbing your arms as you ducked your head. “I’m going back inside,” you said, hoping Trout felt like being clutched to your chest, “I’m cold.”

***

The next morning, your mouth felt heavy and dry. You sneaked out as the sun was rising to go hide in the woods surrounding Tom’s house, but you talked yourself out of it. He would make too much of a fuss if he couldn’t find you—but you could delay the inevitable conversation even further. Both of you had separated and kept to yourselves the rest of the evening. Kept quiet.

So you rounded the outside of the house. You’re not camping out in a fucking copse. When you reached the pond, you scanned it for a dry place to hide, but nothing really held any appeal, save for the rounded platform where the mill wheel used to spin, its spoke notches overflowing with moss. You managed to get to it after scrambling alongside the stones for a few minutes, and though it didn’t look like you could get down the same way, you settled against the wall, scraping some moss out of the notches so that your feet could rest more comfortably in them.

(Dr. Prine called ten minutes after you sent her the email. “Did you send me the correct article?”

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing your face wash onto your cheeks, “Considering it’s the only one I have ready, and I can’t bring myself to write anything. I tried. I just fucking can’t.”

“I don’t think you want this published at this point in your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. Whoever’s using my pen name probably knows who the fuck I am in general. Just publish it.”

“Honey,” said Dr. Prine, her voice softening (and fumbling, like she was holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder), “You should probably rethink this. It’s going to connect Epiales you back to Viper you. Get some sleep; eat breakfast. Call me back then.”

“It’s an appropriate article for the political climate.”

“Not for your personal life.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you said between splashing water on your face, “I don’t. It’s a good fucking article, and hopefully, it can affect people for the upcoming election. Fuck self-preservation. Send it to the Times already.”

“Did I dial the wrong number?”

“Hilarious, Dr. Prine. I know it’s not the smartest thing for me to do, but I can’t—absolutely can’t—write anything. I don’t know for how long, but for now, at least.” You blotted your face dry. “I’ve got to meet standard deadlines if I’m keeping my column. It’s really only dangerous if Tom reads it and makes the connection, and his brain is offline right now.”

And so Aeneid Autopsies: Current Crimes Reflected in Ancient Times, chapter twelve, “The Political Tradition as Mob Rule,” would be published on Saturday. It’s a little too in the know about the mafia, but hey, you had written it on a whim a month ago, and you were known for your extensive research, anyway. It most likely shouldn’t be too different from your other exposés, though they weren’t on topics that were deliberately misleading the public by what information was out there.

The more you thought about it, it was almost like you wanted to reveal yourself, wanted to get stabbed while you were sleeping, because there’s an overwhelming question rolling around in your brain like a mis-weighted shooter marble: is this—)

“It’s not your fault.”

With crossed arms, Tom leant against the stone wall, his leg bent back for his bare foot to rest flat against it. He glanced sideways at you, sitting on your mill wheel perch almost halfway across the pond, but closer to the far side than to him.

He’s got major bedhead, his curls just fucking flopping about out of his part, and even from where you are, his face burned red amidst wet tracks trailing down it. Still, thank God for little mercies—his biceps were fucking straining the sleeves of his white t-shirt, and those idiotic, blessed grey sweatpants were low on his hips.

You lifted your head from your knees but still clutched them to your chest. “You’re not going out, then?”

“Of course not,” Tom said, and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Can’t be crying during a meeting, yeah?”

“Been boxing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not really.”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip and sighed, and then he slid his hands into his pockets, his eyes glossing over while he watched the moss you’d picked off float in the pond.

You’re not going to fucking cry. Tom came out here for a reason. He has a purpose. All you have to do is wait.

Eventually, he said, “You’re avoiding what I said.”

You tilted your head.

“Listen, I know you’re beating yourself up about it. It’s not your fault this happened. None of this is your fault. Hey.” Tom tapped the wall, the travelling reverberations making you look up at him. “Whoever’s doing this is doing it of their own volition and not because of you. You hold no culpability for this.”

“Bruh,” you said, “One of your best friends is dead, and you’re comforting me? I thought I was the masochist.”

Tom scowled, his brow furrowing. “Viper—”

“I can’t interact with someone without putting them in danger, at a disturbingly high rate. You want me to enumerate where I’ve stuck my nose in not my business and people have gotten killed? Senator Hernandez, Isadora,” you began, holding up two fingers, “The nine men guarding Isadora, Maccabruno, Polson—”

“Don’t you dare do that to yourself.” Tom took a step forward, his foot almost curving into the pond. “You didn’t use the knife. You didn’t pull any triggers.”

“Yeah, but I sent them there. And a good many of them went because it was their job.” You sneered and propped your chin on your knees again.

“And it’s part of your job—”

“Yeah, whatever. Your friend is dead, and I have no home. I’ve stopped contacting the few people in my circle on the chance that they get dragged into this—Grace, Adrien—he’s the lights specialist guy, in case you don’t remember—I’ve got to email Glory, but that can’t be helped. And Dr. Prine only—fuck,” you said, dragging your hands down your face. “I don’t want anything to fucking happen to Dr. Prine. Or your family, for that matter.”

“Everyone not involved in the business is currently in hiding upstate,” said Tom, eyes narrowed as he glared at you. “If you like, I can ensure the same—”

“Stop acting so damn calm, Tom.” You let your legs dangle off the platform, hands clenching the edges. “I don’t have any strings left to pull. And fucking hell, I know that it would be extremely and absurdly conceited of me to believe that this series of crimes is aimed specifically at me, because how deluded, how arrogant could I get—but goddammit, this stuff feels a little too personalised. It feels like this person knows me.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Don’t you think it’s worth something that Glory Pham has been left alone? He knows how to get into Crosscreek, yet Glory hasn’t been touched. Is that not worthwhile?”

Your eyes watered, but you ducked your head so that he couldn’t see—but you released a dry sob (Fuck! Now is not the time for crying! Now is the time for being badass! Frown, or something!).

Tom spoke so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. “Do you want to leave?”

God, no. But it would make you feel like less of a burden. “Let me find an apartment first.”

“No, not like that. Hey, V. Look at me,” he said, and he tapped on the wall again.

You wouldn’t. Not like this. Not when your nose was running and when you didn’t have a plan.

“Please look at me, Viper.”

Glowering, you raised your head, lifting your chin higher than normal to seem confident, and oh, God—his eyes were wide and gentle; he’s leaning as far as he can over the pond, still unable to reach you.

“What I meant was if you wanted to leave the mob.”

It rang through your head like a distant cathedral bell, chiming through a deserted town—but then you were farther, out on the mountains, still listening to faint clanging.

“You’d have to kill me,” you said, shaking your head, “Don’t you remember?”

“Fuck,” Tom was saying, sucking in through his teeth, and after glancing at the water, he started jogging around the pond.

“I swore. I bled. And then even after that—then you knighted me.” You inhaled sharply when he reached the stones you’d climbed. “I’ve let you down.”

“Viper, get the fuck down from there and come here,” he said, and he withdrew, winching, when he stepped on a sharp edge.

“We shouldn’t have met,” you said, looking over your shoulder at him, and Tom froze, his hand partially gripping a hole in the stone wall. “I shouldn’t have taken the job. I should have gone to a different city. I should have—”

“Wasted your life away in the shadows? Just shut up and get down here.”

“Ah! The fuck?” You swatted his hand away when it grazed the platform, and when he climbed up another step, you pushed yourself off the platform and into the pond.

The first thing that struck you was how quiet everything was once the bubbles dissipated, and then you noticed how clear the water was, even from within it—glancing down, you could easily see your feet treading water above the broken grist mill wheels that had sunken to the bottom.

Before you could take it in to feel the emptiness in your chest, bubbles filled your vision again—and then his hands were grappling for you, grasping at your clothes, and pulling you towards the surface.

“I wasn’t fucking drowning,” you said, sliding a hand back through your hair, while Tom shook his head to flick off excess water. “I was fine without—”

“I know you weren’t.” Tom gripped your waist tightly enough to be painful, and he slid his other hand up between your shoulder blades. “I know. You wouldn’t die on me, and I’m not letting anyone else lay their hands on you. C’mon, arms around.”

He guided your arms around his waist, and once you had a good grip (hands sliding up his back), he kicked off to swim to the stone wall, backing you into it. Your toes skimmed the bottom of the pond, but Tom kept your head above the water, his thumbs circling your hipbones through your wet clothes.

Tom closed his eyes, his eyelashes heavy with water droplets. “There’s no solution to this where you die, got it?”

“Shucks.”

“I mean it. Talk to me. Tell me what you can.” Tom let out a breath slowly, and he bent to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “Please,” he said once you tensed up, his breath hot through your wet shirt, “Won’t you let me in?”

(Fuck fuck fuck fuck his chest is flush against yours; he’s so warm, so damn warm all over, and the water’s chill only makes you want to cling to him more, fuck.)

“You won’t like me,” you said, tentatively lifting a hand to curl your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly, “I’m not whom I’ve presented to you. I don’t have it under control.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Tom turned his head towards you; his lips almost grazed your neck (you relish their warmth anyway). “You wouldn’t be human, otherwise.”

“I don’t know an awful lot. Some days it seems like all I do is guesswork.” You grimaced but kept the slim distance from Tom’s mouth. If he wanted to, he would. “I’m lost completely on whoever the fake Epiales is. I keep looking for a pattern in everything, even—even so far back as to—”

You stuttered. Tom had pressed his lips to the base of your neck.

“There’s no consistency,” he said, nuzzling his nose against the spot where your neck met shoulder, “but there’s got to be a larger plan. I get it. The whole case is like a hydra, and we’re chopping blindly at the heads.”

(Oh, my God, he kissed you? He kiss the neck? He?)

“Oh! I forgot to tell you.” Tom pulled away to look you in the eye, and your mouth hung open of its own accord—come back! “I made myself watch the video again.” His jaw shifted. “To see if I missed anything, and I did. This time, I recognised the symbol on the guy’s forehead.” Tom lightly traced it onto your forehead with his middle finger. “It’s a zodiac symbol. It’s the one for Taurus.”

You nodded, still not really thinking at full capacity. “Great. Another piece of evidence that I won’t be able to make fucking sense of. Goddammit. I’m so useless. Goddammit,” you said, dropping your hand from his hair into the water with a splash. “Tom, I don’t talk to my mother much anymore. She doesn’t know where or who I am, and to be honest, I don’t know who I am, either. I don’t know where the truth is.”

You nearly slapped him when you cupped his cheek, like you were desperate, like you had to be touching him, skin on skin, that instant. It’d be nice if he would close his eyes and lean into your touch, maybe kiss your palm, but Tom simply stared at you in shock, eyes wide, brows raised, mouth pinched.

Don’t tell him, you whore. You built this fucking kingdom with its walls and bastions so that you would be safe when the outer defences crumbled. You’ve set aside parts of yourself into neat little boxes so that you can throw any of them away at any time and escaped unscathed. Don’t you fucking dare screw that up. Tom doesn’t know about Epiales so that you can expose and destroy him if you’re on his chopping block; it’s insurance for when everything falls.

Bitch, since when do you want to be honest and raw and vulnerable around anyone?

You can’t let him in.

“You’re still a woman of honour,” Tom said, and—oh, God, oh, fuck—he’s easing his hands down your body, his chest pressed against yours again, and he’s sliding them down your thighs to hook underneath your knees, and he’s hitched you up against the wall, the definition of his muscles real and palpable through the wet clothes, warm, warm, warm—

“I should apologise,” you said, turning your head to the side while he steered your legs around his waist, “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

“You can’t?” Tom shifted you upwards, and that’s it; your heat is directly against him; you can feel every pull and tensing of his tendons, and if he keeps moving the way he is, then you’ll—

“I’m so sorry for making this about me when Z was closer to you. We shouldn’t waste time on me; we need to be searching, arranging a funeral if we can’t find anything.” You scrunched your eyes shut.

“You’re deflecting.” Tom let out a shuddery sigh. “I’ve lost too many people. Don’t make me lose you when you’re right in front of me,” he said, and he pressed his lips right below your ear.

You flinched away on impulse but tried to relax into him, blinking profusely.

Tom pushed against you (not localised enough to qualify as a thrust), and he cleared his throat before pulling away from your neck. “Listen, please. Please.” He shifted your weight to one hand and gripped your chin with his freed one. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he moved to rest his hand on your cheek. “You’re invaluable. Irreplaceable. You are no burden and are not at fault.” He clenched his jaw. “But I know you’re keeping something from me, and I will make the answer fall from your lips soon.”

Your own chin was shaking, and he was too close. If you put aside separate-self-as-insurance for a moment, let’s consider Tom did find out about Epiales. Would he control you through it? Would he use you to influence those he couldn’t reach? Would he grab hold of Dr. Prine? He might squeeze your life and time through his fist, and your freedom would be gone. Epiales was your freedom, your space to create and connect.

He was too close.

“You’ve got to promise not to hate me,” you said, and when he raised an eyebrow, you made your decision to lean in.

“No,” he said, and—and your lips met his cheek.

He’d turned his head.

After all that, he’s going to turn his head?

“No,” he said again, taking your chin again and leading you away, back to leaning against the stone wall, “I don’t want our first kiss connected to the memory of mourning. I can wait a bit longer.”

Tom released your legs, letting them sink. “You once told me that if you let yourself be vulnerable, you didn’t want an audience. I think,” he said, frowning, “I think you still see me as an outsider. As a member of that audience. And again, you said that you didn’t want it if it weren’t real.” He stepped away from you entirely, and he started wading towards the edge of the pond. “I’m going to hold you to the same standard. I’ll wait until you’re ready to be real with me.”

Tom slinked out of the pond, flicking away what excess water he could, and he squinted into the sun on the horizon. He shook his head, water flying, and he glanced back at you and scoffed. “Easy, sweetheart. No need to wear your heart on your sleeve now.”

His voice trailed off as he rounded the corner towards the door.

The sun is rising, and you feel rather cold.

***

inter vivos: between the living

***

taglist: @hollandroos @madmadmilk @parkerroos @parsleysbaby @z-ukos @pparkerwrites @lunamyangel @stealth-spiderr @presidentbttrflyfreak @paradoxparker @bi-writes @astronomyparkers @infamous-webhead @laurfangirl424 @softspideys @gryffinpuffs @plethoraofpuppies @laucontrerasv @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @spiderboytotherescue @cassiopeiaskies

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland/reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #mob au #mob!tom holland #mob tom holland #viper au #dash it all

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lesbonoi · 5 years ago

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charlie drinks caffiene without realizing it funny moembts

charlie is mot allowed to drink caffiene no maam no sir

#i do not drink coffee or anything like that and i ahd barely eateb today or yesterday since its past midnight whatever so my body was like #go crazy go stupif #anyway i was drinking hong kong style milk tea bc i wanted to try it despite not knowing what was in it at all besides milk and tea #didnt know what kind of tea #then i learned blacj tea #which i didnt know had caffiene #and then i started gettig jittery after dinner and driving my dad insane and i asked #does black te a have caffiene in it and my mom was like yeah and i was like oh shit #and i think javier genuinely thought i was drunk or highwhicg is hilarioud

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pairodicelost · 4 years ago

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something needs to change soon bc i have so much i wanna do and make, and the dead weight of my own body and the prolonged suffering i dip in and out of is just untenable

had a well and truly terrible mental health day on tues... monday night was acute suffering and rumination and DAMAGED GOODS feeling, I drunk drafted an email to [redacted] shedding light on [redacted] (amazingly articulate, graceful even? though a tad dramatic), I drank gin, I went to bed. set off by watching vids of a young person i follow having a manic sobbing laughing undressed spiral online which really just grabbed my heart by the throat. Tuesday I couldnt get up until 3pm, and Angel sneezed so I panicked, either lung cancer or dust from her bedding (which i’d been changing daily!!) so I deep cleaned her cage extremely, held her on me almost the whole time, spent hours with her really while I did it and drank coffee and swept the house and handwashed her cloths and sewed things for her cage and then suddenly, cried and cried for awhile while she crawled on my shoulders. then made rly good dinner bc cooking is now something i like????

facetimed my sister super grumpy from my bad day and she was sour too, bad day on her end, rude boss, lotsa pressure, but she practiced delivering her presentation of the neuroscience data she gleaned and described in her (first! ever!) published manuscript/experiment. somehow cheered each other up. went to bed sober and not too late.

I am struggling to write and struggling to paint, collage with words is completely off the table lately bc my brain just convulses and turns into a wet towel and cannot focus. I think I need to aggressively enforce a week of NO MAKING ANYTHING, its okay to just cook and watch movies and play with the rats. No drawing or painting and most of all no shame over that. my self worth is all wrapped up in it, im supposed to be wildly productive in all my downtime so that I est a body of work, all weekend and all week nights go to this second life which will emerge - and I just gotta stop and chill tf out with making that my identity and my everything. this is about cooking! im worried about money all the time (bad bad bad, youre supposed to exercise gratitude and act and believe as if you already have the things you want, you know this!) but I have an overflowing pantry and a full fridge and freezer (its a minifridge and freezer lmao) and lately, unable to finish projects or deal with words, I’ve gotten into cooking! and baking! it keeps the kitchen warm, too, and is profoundly comforting.

french onion soup, nondairy tomato soup, brussel sprouts roasted with potatoes dressed in balsamic + garlic with eggs fried in there, butternut squash

so something is level and good within me, i suspect a lot of things are getting there.

today:

1. get to fedex/office depot and make 50 copies of zine

1.5. mail 2 maya while there

2. pick up carriers for the babes

3. assemble zines at home to send tmrw

4. get rid of a ton of the paper scraps and ephemera I’ve been hauling around the country for ten yrs. collage and material belongings are stressful rn so best be rid of em. clear desk and files. make sewing stuff accessible.

5. prep batch of mail - for C in Fresno, R’s forgotten birthday card, MK’s thank you, grandparents, C + M, early bday to T??? and J in NC and E.

It’s funny though bc the new rat just hung with me for over an hr while I wait on hold with unemployment and I have little pulled-apart raspberries and carrot slices on an old open journal and my coffeetable is littered with envelopes and a banker’s lamp and nail polish pain meds allergy meds earache oil chapstick toothpaste lighter mouthguard and also an open bottle of charles shaw right next to a mcdonald’s cup i’ve been using for days to drink water out of bc the straw really helps, and super floral-smelling black tea i just made myself and I looked at this mess and thought to myself “is this happiness? i think maybe i’m really happy.”

#practically a journal entry

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pocmuzings · 4 years ago

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💘 + hana & suraj 😌

wipes sweaty shaking hands . .. . .

where they first met and how : at school ! not entirely sure on grade . . but definitely like . . middle school . . fresh high school ? hana had just moved , and she saw suraj was in her class and o wow she was smitten she thought he was BEAUTIFUL

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved : their actual FLIRTING flirting stage was mainly just hana shamelessly hitting on him and staring at his ass . . so what . i think that lasted.. like a year and a half ? before she chilled out a little , and stopped just idolising him and began actually TALKING to him . and then it was still a lil flirty but it was actually like ‘ oh . . oh this guy has thoughts and is smart and thoughtful and sweet and not just a Hottie with a Body . . ‘

who fell for who first ( if applicable ): i think hana fell hard initially but it was legit just infatuation and her thinking he was hot . . i think from there . . they both kinda fell for each other ? once they started getting to know each other and working on school projects together . hana figured by then that he was way out of her league , so she’d kinda just given up and was happy just be Friends ? so she never even CONSIDERED suraj might like her too .

where their first date was and what it was like : oH THIS ??? IM NOT ?? IM NOT SURE ? i feel like when suraj first got his license he probably picked her up and took her out somewhere , and brought her flowers he’d nervously ripped out of his neighbours yard . . and like . he tried to take her to a nice dinner but maybe his car stalled ? she spilled something on her nice skirt ?? it was a disaster lowkey , and ended with them in a carpark of a 7 / 11 sharing a bag of skittles and holding hands probably and it was . . an amazing date . hana didn’t even care that everything ‘ technically ‘ went wrong .

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? ): AHHH THIS IS HARD TO ANSWER ?? because there was a lot of dancing around it . a lot of uncertainty and jealousy and saying ‘ ha ha we’re just friends ‘ . i truly don’t know who would have . . made the Move finally and asked out who and how ? i feel like it could have been suraj , but hana misunderstood and thought it was a Friendship thing , too .

who proposes first: OH IT WAS SURAJ AND WE ALL KNOW IT . i feel like hana maybe murmured it one night , them half asleep , her face smushed into his neck , like ‘ i wanna marry you ‘ , but it was suraj who literally had the Plan and the idea and the whole set up and he asked her and hana was both surprised and not surprised and SO HAPPY

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away : they didn’t really , in fact if anything they kept their relationship secret to EACH OTHER . like everyone else kinda knew they were into each other but they were both like . . ha ha . . nah .

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? ) : god u guys are really testing me today . . umm i feel like it was on new years and it was a little cliche , and hana and suraj were hosting a lil drinks together and had dinner with her parents beforehand and yeah . . ok . . suraj definitely did the thing with the Ring in the Glass , and him on his knee just as the fireworks went off . hana probably was laughing and crying and pulled out a ring SHE had for SURAJ in her purse and they’re both dumb idiots in love !

if they adopt any pets together : hana would adopt 2000958489 pets if she could , and suraj rlly has to put his foot down or he’ll come home to so many . luckily , most of their lives they’ve lived in apartments so having pets hasnt been a super high possibility . also . . hana is quite careless and has k*lled many , many of their goldfish . .

who’s more dominant : hana is more outwardly dominant but only because she’s SO loud and outspoken and talk talk talk talk TALKS . but suraj is quietly dominant ? like he’s the one who’ll put his hand out and immediately Everyone Respects and Listens and Shuts The Hell Up . he can command a room very easily if he wanted to . as for s*XUALLY . . hana LOVES when suraj gets a lil . . u know . . commanding in the bedroom . but she is usually the one who initiates it , and then he will hesitate but get iNTO IT.

where their first kiss was and what it was like: their first kiss was prom ! they both came with other dates and were acting like they weren’t jealous . hana’s date was a dick the whole night so she bailed , suraj’s date left early to go to some party . . it was them two in a carpark lowkey bickering and then . . oh the kiss just Happened !

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? ): OH HANA GETS THEM EVERYTHING . they have mr & mrs everything . she got them his & her towels . . ‘ HANAS BOYFRIEND ‘ as a mug to suraj ( for him to take to work so no Woman talks to him dfkjnfnk ) . they also definitely have 3000 matching halloween costumes , and ugly christmas sweaters .

how into pda they are : neither of them are actually super super pda-y besides a kiss goodbye / hello , and a hand hold . if they’re a little drunk or tipsy , hana definitely snuggles on in and just Holds him the entire night and presses kisses to his neck because she’s Addicted to him .

who holds the umbrella when it rains : SURAJ LOOK AT HOW TALL HE IS . and he just does it silently . . he takes it and holds it , and ensures hana doesn’t stumble into her 3000th puddle , or accidentally hit someone with the umbrella ( when she holds the umbrella , she always smacks suraj in the face and doesnt even notice dkjnjnfkfn )

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable ) : i don’t know if they have one atm ? it was their rooftop for a while probably , in their old apartment complex ? thatd be date night usually . currently .. they’re pretty happy just having dinner together every night in their house in general ?

who’s more protective: hana is definitely protective because she doesn’t like the way suraj’s family treats him , mainly . like he’s not a PUSHOVER per se , but he isn’t very confrontational and ppl sometimes take advantage of that , and around his family she KNOWS they hurt his feelings and she really really doesn’t like that

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ ): platonically , they share a bed a bunch of times before they become ‘ them ‘ . hana’s parents let suraj stay over literally whenever , and they have a Knowing look in their eyes and would tease them about ‘ leaving the door open ‘ ( and hana would groan very loudly whilst suraj would stammer out a ‘ no - i - never . . ) . the first time they had sex was also in hana’s bed lets be honest . it was careful and gentle and both of them laughing nervously and moving slowly and taking Care of each other .

if they argue about anything : they don’t really argue with each other until they moved to mystic and things got Strained slightly . hana started acting quite obviously distant and it started stressing suraj out . other than that . . they argued maybe once or twice about surajs brother ? it was never anything TOO serious but it was a little bickering about how hana didn’t trust him and wished suraj didn’t hold out hope for him , and suraj defending himself and his brother . it’s never been anything too ugly ??

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. ) : hana . she leaves hickies on suraj any damn day . she also definitely comes to his office and will put on a fresh coat of lipstick and kiss him stupid ( and hand him her panties before stepping out ) because she just LIKES seeing him all flustered . plus she . . maybe likes that people KNOW that its HER with suraj .

who steals whose clothes and how often : oh we know hana wears his clothes constantly . she loves them . they smell like him . she wears them as pyjamas , or sometimes as a lazy sunday brunch look . he’ll be like ‘ babe did you see my ralph lauren button up - oh “ and there she is on the kitchen bench swinging her legs , grinning at him .

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? ) : they definitely swap ‘ big spoon / little spoon ‘ positions a lot . or they sleep holding hands , on different sides of the bed , but always touching in some way .

what their favourite nonsexual activity is : honestly . . just being around each other dfjkfnfn i know thats so cheesy but its true they love each other so much. their ABSOLUTE favourite thing to do is literally just talk about their days ? or like . cook for each other in the kitchen , or share music together , i feel ? just smth where they can be in their Space but not necessarily have to fill it with anything

how long they stay mad at each other : NOT LONG AT ALL !! barely anytime at all ! except . .One Time in the future when they have a huge blow out and theyre both utterly miserable , but all other small indifferences and ‘ arguments ‘ literally last an hour max . hana just can’t be mad at suraj bc he’s SO sweet and lovely and understanding she just . . always crawls back and knows shes the one being unreasonable 9 / 10 times .

what their usual coffee / tea orders are : hana always gets a ridiculously bright, overly sugary, coloured drink , or always tries something new ( trying to make her way through the menu ) . i feel like suraj is either more of a long black , or cappuccino guy , or a tea drinker ?

if they ever have any children together : oh ho ho . . THIS . . .woweee . . no, they do not ! not yet . . i want to say ? ? mayhaps . .

if they have any special pet names for each other : ‘ babe ‘ ‘ baby ‘ ‘ sweetie ‘ . hana calls suraj ‘ su ‘ sometimes ?

if they ever split up and / or get back together : they . . split up exactly ONCE . and they get back together because they literally can’t live without each other. the split up isn’t anybodys fault per se , either . its that hana has suddenly a lot of trauma and memories resurface and she doesnt know how to deal with it , and suraj tries to help and it TERRIFIES her and causes this distance and rift between them and then she just thinks maybe he’d be better off without her , so she gives him back the ring and cue them both being utterly MISERABLE . they find their way back together though . they always do .

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? ) : despite hana being very messy and all over the place , their living space is quite minimalist and clean . hana’s work space is an explosion of materials and colour swatches and scrapbooks , but the house as a whole is neat and tidy and i feel we mainly have suraj to thank for that

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like : they spent half the day at hana’s parents , and half the day at suraj’s , then spent the evening / night together . they mainly enjoyed coming back home to each other tbh ? suraj’s family is . . Difficult , and hana tries not to stay around them for too long bc she sees them Drain suraj .

what their names are in each other’s phones: hana’s name for suraj is probably ‘ BABY 💕🥰💕🥰💕🥰💕🥰💕 ‘ she probably renamed herself in suraj’s phone too , to like . . ‘ LOVE OF MY LIFE ‘ and he never changed it back dfkjfnkfn

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? ) : their tradition is usually having dinner together every night ? no matter who cooks or what they buy . or even if hana is working late on wedding stuff , suraj will come sit with her and bring her her dinner still . they also send each other Silly Goofy selfies every now and then , just randomly throughout the day

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first : it really depends on the day ! during the week i think suraj usually falls asleep first ? and hana just rakes her fingers through his hair , because she usually works late and stuff , and tbh she loves when suraj is asleep bc hes a big golden retriever cuddled up to her . but everytime they watch a movie together , hana definitely falls asleep first and misses EVERYTHING . as for waking up first , i feel like this must be suraj ? because hana loves sleep and also she doesnt sleep very WELL and sometimes has nightmares .

who’s the big spoon / little spoon : they honestly take turns ok , there i said it .

who hogs the bathroom : hana literally for every event . she loves makeup so much . she’ll be doing it for two hours , suraj sitting on the bed fully dressed being like ‘ baby i’m not pressuring u but uh . . we’re half an hour late to our own wedding dinner rehearsal ‘ dfkjndfnjk

who kills the spiders / takes them outside : THEY’RE BOTH DECENT AT THIS ? they both take the spiders outside . if its a particularly big one or scary one . . it goes to suraj though . hana PREFERS if suraj does it , but if he’s not around she’ll try her Best .

#ship: hana x suraj #ur honour i love them more and more every fawkin day of my life #FUCK #theyre so cute #WE INVENTED LOVE #LITERALLOVE #stevenyuens

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