#but like. imagine going into your doctors office and seeing this. it would be fun

[woodfrogs]

i was curious how much original star wars posters cost (a lot. unless theyre in french apparently) and found this one. im kinda obsessed with it tbh

[foxy-eva]

Prom Night

Summary: After everyone shared their sad (or non-existent) prom stories, Penelope decided to host a BAU Prom Night, giving Spencer the perfect excuse to finally ask out Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fluff, Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) a bit of miscommunication, jealous Spencer, heavy kissing, fingering, handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party Challenge!

Word count: 2.8k

Masterlist

“And that’s how I ended up with a broken heart on prom night,” JJ concluded her story after a couple of other BAU members had shared their prom experiences in their lunch break. 

“Aww, that’s so sad!” Penelope cooed. 

“I didn’t even go to prom,” Spencer chimed in. “I mean, I was twelve, but still…”

Derek looked at you and asked, “What about you, pretty girl? Did anything exciting happen on your prom night?”

You took a moment to think about it and shook your head, “Don’t even get me started.” 

“You know what!” Penelope suddenly exclaimed. “We should throw our very own prom night! This way we can make up for all those miserable experiences.”

“That sounds fun,” JJ agreed. “I would love to take Will to prom.” 

“Yes, that’s perfect. Everyone has to bring a date!” Penelope locked eyes with Spencer and made herself very clear, “No exceptions. Not even for you, doctor.” 

Spencer cleared his voice as a slight rosy shade spread over his cheeks. It made you smile to see him like this and you wondered if he already had someone to ask to go to prom with him. His eyes met yours for a moment and your heart immediately skipped a beat. 

To everyone’s surprise Hotch agreed to have a BAU Prom Night and made sure that you could use one of the function rooms at Quantico. Over the next few days you helped Penelope figure out the details until the date of your big night was set. 

Everything was going as planned except for one detail - you still didn’t have a date. You were sure that you were the only one at this point, even Spencer seemed to have found someone. At least that was what you assumed after you kept catching him and Derek mumbling about something (or someone) and stopping once you got close enough to eavesdrop. 

Three days before the festivities began, you and Penelope were waiting for fresh coffee in the kitchen while talking about the perfect color arrangement for decorations. Spencer approached and noticed that the coffee wasn’t ready yet, so he joined into the conversation by sharing some facts about color theory. 

“Hey, Y/N,” you turned your head to spot Anderson approaching. “I heard you don’t have a date for prom night yet.” 

“You don’t?” Spencer exclaimed. “I thought you had a boyfriend.” 

You flashed him a confused look and muttered, “What? No.”

“But you mentioned this guy a few weeks ago. I overheard you talking about a date with him,” Spencer stammered. 

“I never heard from him again,” you clarified and turned to Anderson. “And no, I don’t have a prom date yet.” 

The man you had never paid any attention to before smiled at you and said, “Well, now you do!” 

Spencer looked shocked at Anderson’s words and stormed out of the room without saying anything. You had never seen him acting this way and watched as he disappeared in the empty conference room. You flashed Anderson an apologetic look before following Spencer to talk to him. 

You found him sitting at the table, pretending to look through a file when you sat down beside him. “Spencer, what’s going on?” 

“I thought you already had a date,” he mumbled without looking at you. “And now you’re going with Anderson.”

Slowly you got a hunch what all of this was about. It made your heart flutter to realize that he wanted to ask you out. 

“I haven’t agreed to go with him, yet,” you told him. 

He finally locked eyes with you and asked, “Do you want to go with him?” 

“I don’t want to go alone. But the guy I actually want to go with hasn’t asked me yet.” 

Spencer didn’t respond, instead his eyes found the file on the desk again. You couldn’t believe how oblivious he was and realized that you had to spell it out for him. “Spencer, I’m talking about you.” 

“Wh..What?” It took a few seconds until he realized the meaning of your words. “Oh.” 

“Are you gonna ask me out now or what?” You giggled. 

“Yes! Yes. Uhm,” he cleared his voice and took a deep breath. “Do you want to go to prom with me?”

You smiled at him and nodded. “I would love to.” 

A wide grin appeared on his face and you noticed a sparkle in his eyes you had never seen before. Spencer seemed genuinely happy. 

“Should I uhm… pick you up at your place?” Spencer wondered. 

“No, I’ll get ready here because I have to help with decorations. But you could pick me up right here and we’ll walk down to the function room together?” 

“That sounds lovely.” 

After you turned down Anderson’s invitation, you and the rest of the team had to get back to your job for the next few days. It was hard to focus on work as your mind kept drifting off to the fact that Spencer had finally asked you out. Anytime that thought crossed your mind, you felt your cheeks heating up and your heart began beating erratically inside your chest. 

For the first time since you started working at the BAU, Spencer didn't look right away whenever your eyes met his. His glances lingered on you and it made you feel like you were the only person in the room with him.

When the big night finally arrived, you spent most of the day preparing the function room for the evening. About thirty minutes before everyone else would arrive, you hastily disappeared in the restroom to change into your dress, fix your hair and put on some make-up. 

Spencer arrived at the conference room just a few minutes after you. He wore suits most days but you had never seen him wearing anything that fancy. He looked incredibly handsome in his black suit, white dress shirt and bow tie. 

Before you had a chance to tell him how gorgeous he looked, he stammered, “Wow… you look stunning.” 

Your fingertips brushed over the soft fabric of your dress as if to straighten out wrinkles that weren’t there. A wide smile spread over your face at the compliment. It was no coincidence that you picked a purple dress, aware that it was Spencer’s favorite color. 

“Thank you. You look very handsome, too.”

A rosy shade spread over Spencer’s cheeks while his lips curled into a coy smile. The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments until he seemed to remember the item he held in his hands. 

“Here, I got you something,” he said as he let you take a look. 

It was a small corsage with white and lavender-colored blossoms. It matched your dress perfectly. You reached out your hand, implicitly telling him to put it over your wrist. 

His fingertips gently brushed over the back of your hand as he placed the corsage on your arm. His touch was innocent but ignited sparks inside your chest nonetheless. He must have felt it too because when his eyes found yours you noticed that warm glimmer in them again. 

As the two of you entered the function room the party had already started. The dance floor was filled with your coworkers, moving in ways you had never seen before. The colors of the balloons matched the rest of the decor and you were more than happy that everything had worked out so wonderfully.

“So, what do you think about your very first prom, boy wonder?” Penelope giggled as she approached the both of you. 

“It’s perfect,” was all he had to say.

Penelope grabbed you both at your arms to pull you onto the dance floor. Spencer protested at first but gave in once you took his hand in yours. You joined the others in their silly little dances and to your surprise, Spencer did too. That was until a slow song came on. 

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he turned to you and placed his hands on your waist. You let yours rest on his shoulders and began swaying from side to side. 

“Sorry, I have no idea what I’m doing,” he chuckled as he looked down at his feet. 

“You’re doing great, Spencer,” you sincerely responded as you moved a little closer towards him until there barely was any distance left between your bodies. 

“Is this better than your actual prom night?” He wanted to know. “You never actually told us about it.” 

You couldn't stop your hands from moving to the nape of his neck, gently playing with a few loose curls as you purred, “It’s so much better.”

Just when you thought that he was about to lean down to kiss you, you noticed the high-pitched laughter of your female coworkers. 

“Aah, look! They are exactly like those teenagers in every high school romcom!” JJ chirped as she pulled out her phone to snap a picture of the two of you. 

You turned your head to find her face in the crowd, prompting Penelope to chime in, “No, don’t stop, my two lovebirds! Go on, kiss!” 

You felt your cheeks heating up at the realization that you had an audience in this intimate moment.

“Do you wanna try out the photo booth?” Spencer suggested to get away from the curious glances of your work family. 

“That sounds fun!”

And it was fun. You spent a while posing like those typical prom couples before taking a bunch of silly pictures with the props Penelope had bought. 

“Okay, I think we’re done,” you laughed once your cheeks started hurting from smiling so much. 

Spencer shook his head and pressed the button once more. “One last set!” 

Just when the countdown of the camera reached the number zero, you felt Spencer’s lips on your cheek. Your head was spinning after everything that had happened tonight. It seemed like finally being close to the man you had pined after for months gave you the courage to show some initiative. 

You turned your head to find his mouth, capturing it in a soft kiss with no intention to stop even after the last photo was taken. Kissing him then was chaste and sweet and so, so perfect. 

“Busted!” You heard Derek’s voice as he approached the photo booth with his date. “You two should get a room.” 

Almost in unison the both of you responded, “Shut up, Morgan.”

The next few hours flew by quicker than either of you would have liked. Spencer must have noticed how exhausted you were, so he offered, “It’s getting pretty late. I can drive you home if you want?”

Even though you didn't want this night to end, you knew that it was probably for the best. “Yeah, I would like that.”

Spencer nodded and took your hand as he led you out of the room. The way to his car seemed endless and the need to be close to each other was all-consuming. There was no way you could make it without giving into your desperation.

The elevator seemed like the perfect place for your second kiss. Spencer pushed you against one of the walls, his hands cupping your face as he leaned down to find your lips. This time it was far from innocent, the way he instantly deepened the kiss let you know that he must have fantasized about this moment for just as long as you had. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against your lips. “I’ll never get enough of you.” 

What followed felt like a haze, between longing glances, sweet kisses and bright laughter you somehow made it to your doorstep. Spencer leaned down to find your lips once more before he said, “I would really like to take you out to dinner sometime.”

You kissed him again and mumbled against his lips, “I would like that, too.”

His smile was soft when he purred, “Goodnight. I had a great time tonight.” 

Right when you wanted to respond, you remembered something. Your facial expression must have given it away, because Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and asked, “What’s wrong?” 

Without really thinking about it, you told him, “I can’t get out of this dress alone.”

His saccharine smile morphed into a playful smirk. “Is that so?”

“I know that sounds like the lamest excuse to… you know,” you giggled. “But it's true. Penelope had to help me put it on earlier. There’s no way I’ll be able to get it off on my own.” 

Instead of teasing you some more, Spencer simply followed you inside your apartment. You lost the ability to form any coherent thought once you turned around and Spencer touched your back to undo the zipper. He opened it all the way down to the small of your back. The way his knuckles brushed over your exposed skin was intoxicating.

Once the dress dropped to the floor, you turned around again. Spencer let his sight wander over body for a split second before he found your eyes. You noticed how his fingers twitched and he licked over his lips. 

“If you don’t tell me to leave right now I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

You stepped closer to him and whispered, “Stay.” 

That was all he needed to hear. His hands were on you in an instant, exploring the curves and dips of your body while your bodies melted into one another in a passionate kiss. With joined forces you helped each other shed each piece of clothing as you stumbled into your bedroom. Spencer pushed you onto the mattress and you welcomed him on top of you. 

He began trailing kisses down your neck before biting down on your pulse point. Your whole body felt like it was floating on a cloud as you felt his lips wandering over your skin. 

“Would you have let him take your dress off, too?” He mumbled against your neck.

It took you a moment to realize that he was talking about Anderson. “No,” you sighed. “I’m yours, Spencer.”

He moaned in response to your words and found your lips once more. One of his hands wandered down your body, greedily grabbing at your skin until it found its destination between your legs. The moment he noticed that you were already dripping with desire for him, he groaned, “You’re mine.”

Your whole body felt like it was on fire when he began dragging his fingertips through your slick folds. When he focussed on your little bud, you couldn't help but start to grind your core against his hand. Your own hands became curious and wandered from his shoulders down his body until your fingers could wrap around his hardness. 

The sounds of his pleasure spurred you further on as you moved your hand up and down, letting your thumb glide over his weeping tip. He felt hot and heavy inside your palm and you got impatient to find out how good he’d feel inside of you. 

Spencer's eyes followed your hand when it let go of him to grab a condom from the nightstand instead. He was quick to put it on before kneeling between your legs. The way he took a moment to let his eyes graze over your body almost felt more intimate than anything you had done until then. 

When he leaned over you he reached between your bodies to guide his cock to your opening. Your body welcomed him without any resistance and you relished the sensation of him filling you out perfectly. 

“Fuck!” He groaned as you clenched around him. “I have wanted to do this for so long.” 

With your arms and legs wrapped around his body you brought him impossibly close. 

“Take me,” you demanded before kissing him again.

He began pushing into you, slowly at first but with an accelerated pace once he seemed sure that you could take it. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure and your bodies colliding over and over again. 

When he felt you getting tighter around him, he propped himself up on one arm and  reached down between your bodies with his other hand. When he found your most sensitive spot, he instantly began drawing tight circles around it. 

“Are you gonna come for me?” He sighed as if it hadn’t been obvious. 

You were already too far gone to answer him, your climax taking the both of you by surprise. When he felt your walls pulsing around his hardness he praised you, “Good girl.” 

Just a few moments later he fell over the edge himself, throbbing inside you before collapsing into your arms. He began mumbling sweet nothings into your ear while your fingertips danced over his back. 

After cleaning up, you found your home in each other's arms. 

“I’m really glad I got to experience my first prom with you,” Spencer cooed before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I can’t believe you almost went with Anderson though.”

“I can't believe you almost didn’t ask me out,” You snickered in response.

“Fair point.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @castiels-majestic-wings @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @purpledsky @super-nerd22 @velvetthunder93

[mr-bas00nist]

Hi! can I request Male! Reader with Chris Redfield? it involves the idea below. 👇

Chris had a crush on Reader ever since they met during the S.T.A.R.S era. One fateful day, Chris gets kidnapped and brainwashed via the P30 by Wesker instead of Jill... or did he?

Plot twist: Wesker accidentally picked the wrong P30 and it amplifies Chris' feelings for Reader to the max and so he follows Reader's command instead, much to Wesker's dismay. "Wait- Chris, no! You should obey me, not him!"

Reader's just like, "Chris is still mine, you idiot lol"

he flips the bird at Wesker as he aggressively makes out with Chris lol

That Ass Is (Still) Mine

☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐- Chris Redfield x Male reader

☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐- Cw: gay shit, just fighting, suggestiveness, brainwashing ig but lighthearted shit lol, also more gay shit

Chris had always noticed you. That fun playful guy he’d see in the office. He couldn’t say the amount of times when you weren’t at work he’d immediately be miserable. You could light up the room with your presence. He’d always been obsessed with you.

Not in the creepy way of course! You two would go on missions and you were always quite the skilled one. Close combat, guns, knife work, you could do it all. It was no wonder he was obsessed with you. It was also no wonder knowing you how you comforted him after Wesker’s betrayal.

He was his captain, and Chris looked up to that man. It broke his heart when he betrayed S.T.A.R.S. He made it through though when you swung by just to talk to him. Chris’s eyes trained on your form the whole time. Everything about you was perfect, and after his promotion he was finally able to go on missions with you.

As the years passed and so did more missions, you two were called to the Wesker estate. Where you saw no one but Wesker himself. That asshole was still alive?! You’re kidding! He was fast, so fast he could’ve killed you and Chris in an instant, but he didn’t. He was toying with you.

After he got bored of this though, he grabbed ahold of you. Foolish, foolish, foolish, he would mock. Leather clad hand wrapped tightly around your throat as you grit your teeth at him. That’s when with all fo Chris’s might he rushed towards him. Forcing the man to drop you as he jumped out the window with Wesker.

Which is what brought you to now. On a mission with both Jill Valentine and a woman named Sheva. The two ladies were quite skilled and definitely the teammates you wanted to have. After searching high and low for everything you three needed you came across it. His lair. Wesker’s lair.

That’s when someone clad in a plague doctor like leather suit tackled you all. Wesker coming out of course in his stupid fancy leather outfit. He looked more like a dominatrix in your opinion then a stupid supervillain. Then again, you kept your mouth shut. You peered over to the assistant next to him. Something about them was too familiar.

“So slow to catch on you know?” Wesker retorted to you to which you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You were honestly just debating if you’d rather hear his villain talk or blow your fucking brains out. But all that changed when he pulled the hood down from the person, revealing Chris.

“Feast your ey-“ you cut him off. “Chris! Holy shit you’re alive!?” You asked incredulously. Both Jill and Sheva looked towards each other confused but also thankful. To be fair Wesker was more angry at you cutting him off then anything else. “Yes, yes, it’s Chris under my control now-“ you cut him off again. “Damn baby, looking good in that suit.”

You had to admit. The tight ass suit left almost nothing to the imagination. You could feel Wesker’s glare through his glasses though. But everyone was caught off guard when they saw Chris rush over to you, with his superhuman speed and tackled you in a hug which knocked you over. You wrapped your arms around his hips as you looked up at him.

He couldn’t resist, his whole body felt on fucking fire as he kissed you passionately. You met his kissed letting out a soft moan as you reached down gripping his ass. Mind you, in front of EVERYONE. “The fuck?” Sheva muttered to herself to which Wesker was broken out his trance. “You’re supposed to be following my command what the hell is this????” Wesker questioned to which you just flipped him off.

You then focused back on Chris though as you two continued to make out with each other. Each letting out groans and moans to which Jill just blinked before laughing. She pinched the bridge of her nose before giving Sheva a pat on the shoulder. “Lets finish this.” She smirked as she turned towards Wesker.

Sheva just laughed shaking her head. “Yeah, while he’s outnumbered.” The two got into their fighting stances to which Wesker just sighed. “Excella must’ve got the wrong p30.” He growled to himself. “Goddammit woman!” He spoke out like she could hear him. He got into his own fighting stance.

And sure, you were interested in what was going on around you, but you were more focused on the sweet peace of ass on top of you. Chris was just happy he finally got the chance to have an excuse to make out with you. Maybe he did have something to thank Wesker for after all.

A/n: this one was fun and goofy to make lmaooo, still writing so stay tuned. Requests will be back open soon enough!

[beelmons]

okay okay but imagine there’s a case where like the team needs reader to go undercover in like a bar/club or something to lure the unsub and so spencer gets to see her in a club environment like all dolled up for a night out and dancing slutty and he has no idea how to react

A/N: hehehehe this was fun cw: fem!reader, reader uses a dress

A gala. A fucking gala. Are you kidding me? Couldn't the unsub pick a more comfortable setting? Didn't he know just how uncomfortable doing police work was in heels? Of course he didn't, the profile told you as much. White male, 35 to 45, his recent stressor was losing his company due to bad management, his "loving" wife left him for his more economically stable former partner.

Clear as ice, he didn't know one thing about empathy. Oh, well, occupational hazards. You weren't an absolute stranger to a tight dress and fancy dress shoes. Your instruction was to fit in, as was Spencer's, the team member that was chosen to pose as the person you would try to seduce.

The ruse was simple. You'd arrive at a certain time with your "husband", fellow Agent Morgan, who'd leave early due to a work issue. Girl alone in a gala full of wealthy couples, you would then find a suitor to entertain you whlie your husband was working hard to give you the life you ever wanted.

Unfaithful, ungrateful women, just like the victims he was after.

To avoid much suspicion, Spencer was forced to remain at the bar. Once you had gotten a handful of potential suspects, you would reach him and begin the seduction game, prompted by a verbal cue that you would give to the bartender.

And, in time, the occasion had arrived.

"Cosmopolitan." you ordered the barman "Virgin."

That was the sign for Spencer, who was now standing next to you, to begin playing his part. However, the second he laid eyes on you, his brain was wiped blank.

"G-Good morning." he said albeit it being around eleven in the evening.

You let out a half-fake, fully-amused chuckle. "I guess it's morning someplace around the globe, hm? What's a handsome gentleman like you doing on his own on a 'morning' like this?" you tried to ease the conversation, as if trying to redirect him to the original planned dialogue.

"I-" he tried again, still unable to gather his thoughts "You look so beautiful." he thought outloud.

You blinked rapidly. That was not the exchange you had agreed on having.

"Reid. Stay on script." Hotch murmured into his earpiece.

"Right." he muttered to himself and cleared his throat "Pardon. I'm afraid your beauty stunned me." he laughed awkwardly, signature of him. "I'm Spencer, I own a psychiatric practice."

"Handsome and a doctor?" you landed a hand on his shoulder, and you could see him physically redden "Must be my lucky night."

Both of you could feel the threatening stare of the unsub somewhere among the attendants. You had successfully baited him, and it was time to guide him out.

The ruse continued and, eventually, justice came up triumphant. Of course, your ever so dedicated girlfriends had a set of tennis shoes and a FBI jacket ready for the go. You were debriefing the situation with the boss in his office, while Spencer simply observed from his desk.

Your hair was undone, makeup faded from the sweat, and your jacket was twice your size. Nonetheless, the vivid picture of your dolled-up image remained engraved in his mind. Accordingly, his heart rate was elevated, cheeks flushed, and body hot. He was never going to be able to look at you the same, that much was clear.

"You look so beautiful" a mocking voice in his ear startled him, causing him to bolt up.

It was Derek Morgan, with a taunting, all-knowing grin. Behind him, Penelope Garcia, whom had witnessed the exchange on the camera Reid carried on his tie, laughing at the teasing.

"Shut up." the blond quietly grunted.

"It's okay, boy wonder, she looked really great." Garcia mentioned.

"Seriously, kid, a cleavage like that, I would have lost my IQ too." Morgan added, earning a playful hit from Penelope.

Spencer rolled his eyes at Morgan and quickly shoved the file he was drafting into his bag. Without a further word, he hid into the briefing room to work uninterrupted.

At least, that's the excuse he had made up for himself. Truth was, if he looked at you any further, Morgan was going to be teasing him for a completely different, very hard thing.

[transformers-spike]

your writing is soooo good i love everything you post and i'm sooo happy i found your blog!!! i have a suggestion, can u write more about sg optimus x human reader? i loved the bit u did abt him and there's really not much content out there. nsfw or sfw alike is fine i just want to see him being his cruel and manipulative self

Oh man thank you so much! I've been actually having a ton of fun working with @drunkeninlovesailor on our SG universe. I definitely want to explore it more when I have the chance

“Let it go,” Ratchet says. Roughness underlines his drunken drawl. You’ve never seen him sober.

He takes a swig of the strange teal concoction at his workstation. It glows through his throat as he swallows. Once, you asked Optimus what the Chief Medical Officer was drinking. “High grade,” he replied with the gentle patience of a parent.

Except you’ve seen high grade. It’s bubbly and bright blue, nothing close to the radioactive liquid in Ratchet’s glass.

His near-constant drunken stupor is what you’ve been banking on, a faulty investment at that. Some concerned, almost empathetic part of you wants to ask what’s wrong, but you know better than that.

Trauma has seeped into the very mechanism of their faction. Arcee looks at you with silent rage for wasting their leader’s precious time, while Bulkhead doesn’t spare you a glance. He is wholly uncaring, the same as Ratchet. But the doctor listens at least; watches on with disinterest as you speak, though his responses are cold and jagged. Whatever conversation he may entertain instantly evaporates when Optimus makes his presence known. “Bitlet,” he calls you with suffocating tenderness. The comfort it brings is no different from shoving frost-bitten hands into a fire. You flash him a smile and approach despite your better instincts, legs carrying you to the edge of the mezzanine as though trudging through heavy snow. When his digit comes to stroke your cheek, you do not flinch or reel back in disgust. After all, weren’t his servos caressing tender flesh mere hours ago? Didn’t you kiss the lips of the liar you call home? Or uttered those three cursed words like you meant it? What is there to love in a murderer? More than you can ever imagine.

How could such kindness hold nothingness behind it? That which you considered contempt has revealed itself to be much worse: utter apathy.

“You seem to be socializing more than usual,” he says with genuine interest, as though his words have no hidden meaning. Ratchet, although his back is turned, flinches under the weight of his gaze.

Do not call attention to it.

“You could certainly put it that way,” you attempt to mimic the warmth of his tone.

His optics scan you with ease. Mimicry doesn’t work on him. He sees right through you. How could a conversation so menial feel like walking across a frozen pond? One wrong step and you’ll fall into the icy depths.

His expression doesn’t shift, frozen with warmth.

“Would you like to join me at the archives? I seem to have decrypted files which may be to your liking.” Yet again, he pulls you away from the only means of discerning the truth. Who Optimus is behind his carefully constructed mask only the doctor knows. They met before Earth, before the war, before Megatronus. And it cost him terribly.

You give the response Optimus expects, his gaze burning hotter than a thousand suns.

He cups you in his servos with sickening tenderness you both love and despise; a veneer of kindness hiding a monster whose form you cannot discern. Step closer and risk to be engulfed by the darkness surrounding him? Or let yourself be devoured until he tires of your flesh?

You lack the luxury to choose.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hi! Another nanbaka request, where Reader as a sister of the Sugoroku brothers.

Reader meeting the Supervisors, Head of Divisions, and the Warden

What would be the reactions/interactions of Warden and supervisors of Reader as Hajime's Sister?

Where Supervisors having a meeting or sending their reports to the Warden

The other Supervisors and Warden heard rumors about Hajime's Twin, meeting her in person, and seeing Hajime and his twin interactions, they're in shock/other, of how they're looks are identical yet opposite in personalities

After that how would be their each interaction with Hajime's twin sis

Thank you and take care!

-There was a rumor floating around Nanba Prison, one that some didn’t believe completely- thinking it was a joke- that Hajime, the head guard of Building 13- had a twin sister.

-They all knew of his cross-dressing little brother, as that was a fun day in the guard’s meeting when Hitoshi showed up alongside him.

-Only a handful of people knew this rumor was to be true, the doctors in the medical office where you worked, the inmates of Cell 13, and the guards of Building 13.

-While you were identical to Hajime, minus the scar, you were nothing alike in personality- you were sweet, warm, and caring- but just as powerful as you were one of the few who could put Hajime in his place.

-It was a meeting Warden Momo called for- with all heads of buildings to attend, to go over monthly financial reports, and it included the non-cell areas as well, like the clinic, and the head doctors, the married Otogi couple- didn’t feel like going this time and sent you instead.

-When you walked into the meeting, wearing your nurse’s dress, instantly everyone froze, as all they could see was Hajime- who only froze to see you there as you beamed brightly, “Hello everyone, I am Sugoroku Y/N- it’s nice to meet you!”

-Hajime was quickly holding his stomach, doubled over with stomach pain as everyone was quickly shouting- in complete disbelief that the rumors were true that Hajime had a twin sister!

-Momo was checked out, as all she saw was Hajime smiling at her, despite it being you, unable to comprehend what she had just seen.

-Kiji and Samon were crowding you, looking at you closely to see that you were identical, minus the scar. Samon scowled lightly, “Why the hell are you bald like him?”

-Your hand came down on a sharp open-handed chop to the top of his head, sending him to the ground, showing that you were just as strong as your brother as you pouted lightly, “That’s very rude to ask a lady that!” Kiji was the one to compliment you, on your attitude and how you were much better than Hajime personality wise.

-Momo ran the meeting like a robot, unable to comprehend what was going on.

-As you left the paperwork you put your hand on her forehead, concerned as she seemed flushed, “Warden- are you okay?”

-She was hallucinating, imaging Hajime’s voice instead of your own, seeing Hajime doting and her whole body flushed from head to toe as a rush of steam rushed from her head and she fell straight back.

-More panic filled the room as the warden fainted, but you quickly took charge, since you’re a nurse, and radioed the infirmary to be prepared for the warden as you worked on stabilizing, her, not realizing you were making it worse, as Momo was imagining it was Hajime, not you.

-Just another crazy day in Nanba Prison!!

[generic-enthusiast]

Johnny always loved the sea. There wasn’t a first time he thought of it, or some grand moment of realisation, it just always was.

He’d never seen the sea, of course, living in Tulsa, but he had imagined it. Someday, once he got out of that house and made a life of his own, he was going to see it. Maybe he didn’t have an exact plan as to how, but he knew he would. 

The ocean was freedom. He didn’t need to have seen it to know. It was there, in “Oh Captain, My Captain”, and Impression: Sunrise and all of Ponyboy’s drawings and everything he read out loud when the two of them sat alone in his room, passing the time when there was nothing else to do. 

There were no buildings out at sea. No Corvettes, no greasers, no Socs with their rings and Mustangs and Madras. There were no stifling houses with screaming parents, no cement beds with newspaper sheets. 

It would just be Johnny and his boat and more water than he could ever imagine. 

It would be beautiful, too. So beautiful he wouldn’t need Ponyboy to remind him to pay attention to it, not the way he needed to remember to watch the sunset, sometimes climbing a tree so he could see over the buildings. Not the way he needed to remember fireflies were dots of flame, flying around, not pests he wanted to kill. Not the way he needed to constantly remind himself that someone designed that house, someone grew those flowers there, someone put everything where it is right now, because they wanted to make it beautiful. 

It would just be beautiful. 

At just sixteen, he didn’t know where life would lead him, other than out of Tulsa. He didn’t know how he would get to California or Florida or anywhere else he could finally see the ocean. 

He just knew that he would. No matter what it took. 

Molly doesn’t know what she was imagining when she went to nursing school, but it definitely wasn’t this. 

She thought she would be calming down babies who needed to get shots, telling kids to stay still so the doctor could measure and weigh them. At worst, she thought she might get a moody teenager with an impatient mother. 

She’d be helping people, putting her years of memorising body parts and metabolic processes to use. 

But they don’t teach you how to comfort a fourteen-year-old with a dead best friend in nursing school. So she hands him a handkerchief and offers to call his parents. He doesn’t seem to notice she’s there, just grabs onto the dead boy’s hand stronger — sixteen, he was just sixteen — and whispers his name. Johnny. 

She walks away after a couple minutes. There’s paperwork to be done when someone dies, and it’s her turn to do it. Linda showed her how to do it in her first week.

Quite honestly, Herbert just wants to go home. Working at the local registry office isn’t fun, it isn’t mentally stimulating, and he really would like to just go home, have a glass of wine, and read the same book to his kids for the thirtieth time. 

With still an hour until closing time, a young woman steps inside. 

“Hello there, how can I help you?” 

“I’d, um… I’d like to register a death. And get a certificate for a cremation.”

“Of course.” The job may be boring, but most of it is better than this. Dealing with mourning families who have to sort through funeral rites and paperwork. It seems cruel to put them through it. “Name?”

“Mine or of the… the deceased?”

“Yours first.”

“Right. Molly Waters.”

“Relation to the deceased?”

“I was the nurse whose care he was under. He died of uh… we’re not entirely sure what. Could have been smoke inhalation, intense burns…” She trails off. Ah. First time. 

“And his name?”

“Jonathan Cade.”

It never gets easier to handle corpses. 

Michael’s been working at the crematorium for almost ten years now — known he actually wants to be an engineer for eight — and he can still feel the acid rolling around in his stomach with every body he’s given. But if the old bodies are depressing and unsettling, Michael can’t begin to describe what the corpse he’s just received has made him feel. 

He can��t have been older than fifteen, this boy, and never ate a good meal by the looks of it. He’s so thoroughly burnt it seems cruelly ironic that he would ask for a cremation. Makes you wonder what sort of a teenager has funeral rites on his mind. 

Michael tears his eyes away from the boy and closes the box. 

Time for the chamber. 

He sets the clock and starts to wait. 

Most of the cremation process is waiting — there are shortcuts, he’s sure, but they’re heartless, not to mention probably illegal. 

So he waits for two hours until it all turns to ash. Then he takes what’s left of the boy out of the chamber and waits for it — him? — to cool down. Once he puts the ashes in an urn, he has to wait for the closest family member — a man named Darrel Curtis — to come pick it up.  

Most of Michael’s life has been spent waiting. Waiting for the chamber to do its work and waiting for the time to be right and waiting for his father to retire and waiting for a sign from the universe. 

Waiting for time to pass him by.  

At least he’s done something with his life. He’s done something small here or there, something that actually mattered for once. It adds up. Slowly but surely.

But this boy… he’s hardly had enough moments for any of them to count. And he won’t get any more. 

Someday, neither will Michael. 

And Jesus if that isn’t depressing. 

He closes the crematorium chamber and picks up the phone, taking a mental note to ask around for a replacement. 

“Hey, Rosie? It’s Mike. Yeah, I know it’s been a while. I wanted to say sorry.”

Sometimes, if Darry doesn’t talk for a while, his lips will start to fuse together. Something else probably also has to happen — they don’t always stick —, but under the right circumstances, his lips will stick together a bit more than usual and it feels sort of nice to have himself closed off. It used to happen in class all the time, until he was called on and had to unstick them. It was always kind of disappointing.

It hadn’t happened in years when he walked outside to get the mail and found a bag stuffed in their mailbox, a shoebox on the floor next to it holding more bags and their usual letters.  

Two-Bit’s started carrying the chewed-up pencil tucked behind his ear, Steve’s wearing his DX nametag again, Soda still hasn’t told them what he found, and Ponyboy carries the drawing folded up in his pocket and opens it up sometimes. Darry has the football in his closet, beside his work shirts. He takes a moment to look at it before he gets dressed every morning. Takes a moment to remember.

Three days ago, Darry went to sleep with that same feeling of his lips being glued together. It had been a while since he felt it last, probably back in high school, when he was expected to spend hours in silence, listening to teachers. 

Only his lips still feel like they’ve fused together, because he only ever opens his mouth to eat, and ten minutes after eating, it’s like nothing ever happened. 

No one’s said much. 

There’s not much to say.

They’re still waiting for closure. Dally’s buried already, has a tombstone nearby Mom and Dad. But Johnny wanted to be cremated. They’re still not entirely sure what to do with his ashes, ashes Darry only brought home today. 

“Darry?” 

Ponyboy’s voice sounds small, like it has for a week. Darry wonders when it’ll go back to normal. If it ever will. 

“Yeah, Pony?” Unsticking his lips has always been a strange sensation, but never more relieving than right now.

“I was thinking, uh…” Ponyboy opens his mouth and closes it again, trying to find what exactly to say. “I remember we used to talk about the— the sea.” Darry’s about to ask who “we” is before realising there’s only one possibility. “He— he always wanted to see it. Said he’d get to see it if it killed him.”

The sentence hangs in the air between them. 

“I figured, since we don’t know what to do with his— his… him. I figured we could spread the ashes at the sea. I think it’s— it’s what he woulda wanted.” 

“Oh.” 

Ponyboy stays still, looking at him expectantly. 

“I– uh, yeah. We should… we should do that.”

Darry spends the next couple days tracing out a route on their map. His dad always told him not to do it, that it would end up confusing him if he drew out too many, and the map would end up being useless. 

Somehow, he can’t bring himself to think Dad would disapprove. 

The closest beach is Galveston. Due south, through Dallas. 

He tries to find a way around it, another beach they can go to, but everything else is too far and they can’t afford that many days off of work. How ironic. Go through Dallas to bring Johnny peace.   

There must be some sort of metaphor there. He’d ask Pony if it weren’t so fucking depressing. 

The gang all manage to carve out a bit of time, so come Saturday at seven AM (with no small amount of grumbling) they pile into Darry’s truck and start heading south. 

Ponyboy’s carrying the urn in his lap, and he looks down at it every couple seconds, as if to make sure it’s still there. He’s on the far right of the back seat, Soda beside him, Steve on the far left. Two-Bit’s next to Darry, sifting through the bag of snacks he brought. 

Usually a road trip just means Two-Bit and Soda are more annoying than usual because no one can escape, and Steve and Ponyboy start elbowing each other and jostling the whole car until they have to stop to get them to sit further apart. But no one feels like laughing right now, and there’s just three people in the back seat — more than enough space.

The engine in Darry’s truck has never been as loud as it is right now, rumbling underneath the silence, not daring to break it.

Sometimes the urn catches a bit of sunlight and Darry can just make it out in the corner of his eye. 

“Are we supposed to talk about him?” Ponyboy asks after a good ten-minute drive. 

For a beat, they’re all quiet. 

“I don’t think there’s any sort of ‘supposed to’ right now,” Soda answers.

And they fall back into silence. 

Darry should be saying something. Following through with Ponyboy’s idea, starting a round of memories. Lightening the air by telling a nice story, something to remind them all of how Johnny really was. 

But all he can remember is when he failed him worst.

“Y’know, when Pony told me that Johnny wanted to see the sea —” Two-Bit smiles at the play on words but it’s tainted by the sadness that’s dripping all around them “ — I didn’t remember anything about it. Thought it was one of those things they just talked about between them, that none of us knew about.”

It’s subtle, but the whole car’s listening to Darry. Steve’s looking out the window, but his eyes flicker from the cars outside to Darry; Soda’s playing with his hands, but he slows down when Darry starts talking; Two-Bit’s sifting through the snack bag, but he’s making sure not to make anything crinkle too loudly; and Ponyboy’s drumming his fingers on Johnny’s urn, staring at Darry with wide eyes. 

“Then I thought about it a while. And uh— it wasn’t. Johnny tried to tell me, one day. Bit after junior year ended, I think. I was tellin’ him ‘bout how I wanted to get out of here, go to college and study finance or somethin’ like that, and he said that he wanted to too, said the buildings were suffocating, you can hardly see the sky.

“He was just startin’ to talk about the sea — called it beautiful an’ freeing, I think — when the phone rang and I told him to hold on a minute. It was Paul, or Mark, or someone. They were gonna play ball and I headed out with hardly a goodbye.”

This is the part where someone says it’s not his fault. Where someone says he couldn’t possibly know it would be that important to him, he couldn’t know the conversation would matter, he was just a kid, he made a mistake. 

But no one does.

They settle into silence again. It takes thirty seconds for anyone to say anything else and it’s just “That’s fucked up” from Steve. 

There’s not much to say to follow that, so the silence frees up some space in Steve’s throat, letting the scream nestled in his chest crawl up his esophagus, scratching at the back of his tongue.

He wants to scream. He wants to yell at the top of his lungs, holler until he can’t anymore, until there’s no air left inside him, until he’s as empty as he feels.

There’s so much he didn’t tell them, so much he never had the guts to say, and he can’t stop thinking about what he would do if they had more time. 

The name tag’s still in his hand, the pin needling at his finger pad.

"Don’t pretend like you hate the kid. You're not foolin' anyone but him, an' someday it'll be too late."  

Jesus, he wants to scream. 

But he can’t, not inside the truck with all his friends around him, and he can’t, not so soon after Johnny screamed for the last time. 

Because if it weren’t for Johnny, Steve would still be that stupid, angry kid that kicked shit when he was mad. If it weren’t for that one day, one completely normal day where Steve got kicked out again and he ran to the Curtises’. 

And it was empty — he thought it was empty because he called out and no one answered — so he threw the pillows down on the sofa and punched the wall until his knuckles hurt and did all he could to make everything else hurt — everything but himself. 

And once he was done, standing next to the couch, gripping the armrest, Johnny came walking out of the kitchen and said evenly, “I usually just scream.”

And Steve froze. It was supposed to be empty. 

“I’m alone,” Johnny told him. 

Steve sat down on the couch. “What do you mean, you scream?”

“I mean when I’m mad, I scream. I find some place where no one can hear me — I ain’t got a car so nowhere too far — and I scream. Usually near Buck’s. Music’s so loud no one can hear, and if they do, they assume it’s a fight they don’t wanna be in.”

Then Johnny walked past Steve and out the front door. 

“Where you goin’?”

“To get Pony from the library. Wouldn’t put it past the Socs to jump a twelve-year-old.” When he was about to leave, he turned around on his heel and looked Steve in the eyes. “I don’t reckon anyone’d think too much ‘bout someone yellin’ ‘round here.” He laughed humourlessly. “God knows my folks do, and no one bothers much.”

And he turned around and left. 

And, y’know, Steve never thanked him for that? Not when he came back with Ponyboy, and Steve was sitting in Darrel’s armchair, drinking water to relieve his throat. Not when a drunk caught him out behind Buck’s and he just narrowly escaped a jumping. Not when he found a field a half hour away where no one could hear. Not when it all became too much for Soda, and Steve brought him out so he could scream too. 

Hell, Soda probably doesn’t even know Johnny thought it up. 

“We didn’t do good by him, did we?” Steve asks the silent car. 

“I don’t think we could,” Soda answers. “Was too good for this world.”

And it’s the truth.

Ponyboy once told Soda that it was like he understood everyone. Soda smiled and ruffled his hair and said “thanks, buddy” and didn’t ask who was left to understand him because he already knew the answer was no one. 

Maybe someone could’ve but no one bothered. No one bothered to try and look past the smile that came as easily as breathing. Whenever it fell, whenever the mask broke, a couple pats on the back and half-hearted smiles were supposed to be enough. 

Even Steve didn’t know what to do when Soda came crying to him. He tried, sure, but he could never get the right words out. 

So when Soda cried, he cried alone. 

Until he collapsed onto the couch after skipping seventh and eighth period and rolled his head back and let himself feel the tears tickle as they crawled down his face because for three hours — three hours — he tried to get it. He spent an hour trying to read it last night, even had Pony try and read it out loud to him (isn’t that humiliating, having your little brother help you with school?) but he just couldn’t concentrate so he skipped out on chemistry to try and read it but the words swam in his head and he was thinking about the conversation he had with Steve yesterday and then the bell rang and he still hadn’t read a paragraph so he took math too and then it was English and he still hadn’t read the homework and Mr Anderson called on him and—

He let out a pathetic little sigh, hiccuping through it quietly. 

The couch cushion sank beside him and his head shot up. Johnny was sitting down next to him. 

“You okay man?” He asked, eyes flickering to Soda. 

“Why’m I so fucking stupid?”

Oh, don’t say that, honey, you know it’s not true. 

No, you ain’t. 

You’re a smart kid, Pepsi-Cola. If ya just try a bit harder I’m sure your grades’ll go up. 

You ain’t dumb, Soda. Just takes you a while longer to learn, that’s all. 

“School’s bullshit,” Johnny said, and lay his head on Soda’s shoulder. 

And he let Soda rant until their family came home. About school, about grades, about how stupid Mrs Morrisson made him feel, about how Pony could do better than him in his classes.

When the rest of the gang got back from wherever they had been, Johnny said they’d been talking about last week’s drag race and they changed the topic to Kyle Terry’s obvious cheating, everyone talking over each other so loudly they hardly noticed when Soda didn’t contribute. 

And then Johnny never mentioned it again. (Neither did Soda. Didn’t thank him, didn’t ask if he wanted to talk about anything.)

“Didn’t deserve the cards he got.” Two-Bit sighs and shuffles around a bit. 

A couple of them hum in agreement but no one answers. It’s not fair that they’re here, talking about him and that he’s here but not really, here but not whole, here but not alive.

He meant it when he said they could get along without anyone but Johnny. Johnny’s the only one they couldn’t take losing.  

He lays his head on the headrest behind him, looks up, and closes his eyes. 

It takes a little over half an hour for Two-Bit to hear the sobs. He’s clearly trying to cover them up, but the house isn’t exactly big, and the walls aren’t exactly soundproof, so Two sneaks out of his bedroom. 

Johnny’s on the couch Two-Bit’s Mama bought at a flea market two years ago, his face pressed into that pillow Grandma made before she died. His chest is shaking and his knees are pulled up against him.  

Two-Bit tries his best not to scare Johnny as he sits down beside him, but he flinches anyway. Kid’s been trained to jump at any small noise. That fucking bastard. 

“H-hey.” He hiccups, burrowing his face in the pillow again. “Sorry for wakin’ you.” His voice comes out muffled.  

“Don’t be,” Two-Bit says. 

“An’ I’m sorry for bein’ here so much, I know you ain’t got the space or nothing, but it’s only been three days and Darry— he can’t—”

“I know, Johnnycake, I don’t mind.” He puts his arm around Johnny’s shoulder and pulls him towards him. 

There’s only two years between them, but something about Johnny reminds Two-Bit of his little sister and turns him into a big brother whenever he sees him. 

“I miss ‘em too,” Two-Bit whispers, “We all do.”

“I know,” Johnny whispers back. 

Two-Bit is rudely snapped out of his half-lucid dream by an obnoxiously loud clang coming from the trunk. Ponyboy jumps and grabs the urn protectively as though someone would try to steal it. 

“Shit,” Darry mutters and turns back to try and see what it was. 

“Just an old beer bottle,” Soda calls out, “bumped into a bucket or something.”

The silence settles back in and it’s so acutely uncomfortable. It’s never happened before, that silence is uncomfortable with the gang. They know each other so well, they’re so attuned to each other that silence hardly ever exists, and when it does, it’s never awkward. Or, at least, never awkward like this.  

“Can we, uh… Can we put on music?” Ponyboy asks. He could deal with silence most of the time, but this one was suffocating. 

“Yeah, sure, little buddy.” Keeping his eyes on the road, Darry feels around for the button and turns on the radio. 

Everybody loves somebody sometime

Everybody falls in love somehow

Of fucking course it’s this song. Because what else could play while a cold urn burns holes in Ponyboy’s legs?

He can’t ask for them to turn it off though, not without someone asking why, and he’s not about to get into that. 

He’s not about to get into that summer day last year, when it was too hot to do anything so Johnny and Ponyboy just laid around in Pony’s room, listening to the radio. Then the song came on and Ponyboy started wondering. 

Most thirteen-year-olds had at least had a crush. Boys in Ponyboy’s grade whispered things to girls in class and they giggled back; plenty of them called things out at girls down the street — which, sure Pony did too, but they actually meant it —; and every kept on shoving Mary at Thomas to see how he turned red. Soda said he’d grow into it eventually but shouldn’t he have already grown into it? Everyone else had. 

“Hey, Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“D’you— D’you think they do?”

“Huh?” Johnny asked, sitting up on Pony’s bed. Pony looks up at him from where he’s laying on the floor. 

“D’you think everybody really does love somebody? Like the song says?” 

Johnny took a moment to think and the question started to weigh down on Ponyboy’s chest. It was a stupid question, wasn’t it? Johnny’d think he was some sort of freak.

“I dunno,” Johnny said after a while, “I don’t think everybody does anything.” A beat. “S’not bad not to, I don’t think. Don’t need it to be happy.”

Ponyboy hummed and Johnny lay back down and they went back to listening to the radio, as if the conversation never happened. 

Sometimes Ponyboy would wonder if Johnny even remembered the conversation. If he remembered it when a distant relative asked too many pointed questions about whether he liked any girls yet, when school friends pointed out hot girls on the street, when a love song came on on the radio, or if that just happened to Pony. 

The car stutters to a halt. 

Here they are. Four PM, they didn’t even stop for food. 

They walk along the beach, trying to find a place to settle down and… do whatever it is they need to do. Their shoes kick up clouds of sand that get in each other’s eyes, and they have to circle around a couple groups of people. At some point, Ponyboy — who somehow got put in charge of leading the group — stops and walks towards the sea, stopping right before the wet sand starts. 

Quite honestly, the beach is depressing as shit. 

The sun’s light is relentlessly bright — he can’t even look down at the urn without being blinded, they can still smell the highway that isn’t that far behind, and the sounds of the city reach them perfectly well. There’s no direction Ponyboy can turn in so he doesn’t see the skyscrapers — taller than Tulsa’s — looming over him. 

This isn’t what Johnny would’ve wanted. 

“He thought—” Ponyboy laughs humourlessly, “He thought it would be beautiful and freein’.”

“Well, fuck me if this is beautiful,” Steve says. 

The sea— it isn’t even blue. It’s closer to the murky grey of old concrete. 

“I sure as hell ain’t spreadin’ his ashes here.” The metal’s growing hot under Ponyboy’s hands. 

“Maybe it’s better that he ain’t here to see this. It’d be worse if he lived his whole life waitin’ for this only to get here and have it be…” Soda gestures vaguely at the disappointment that calls itself the sea.

“Ain’t it good that he had somethin’ to hope for?” Darry asks, speaking for the first time since his impromptu confession in the car, “Maybe it ain’t the way he imagined, but it gave him somethin’ to dream about. Look forward to, maybe. Made him happy, even if he never saw it.”

He pauses for a second and Ponyboy wonders if there’s anyone there that isn’t thinking about Darry’s dreams of going to college. 

“You don’t gotta get everything you want. Sometimes it’s the wantin’ that makes you happy.”

The drive back is a whole new level of dangerous, starting in the late afternoon and going into the early hours of the morning. No one drives for more than two hours straight, and they all get something drawn on them when they fall asleep next to Two-Bit.

Ponyboy holds the urn between his arms, same as he did on the way there, and once, when Steve and Soda are bickering and everyone else is asleep, he brings his mouth near the top of the urn and whispers: 

“I hope wantin’ made you happy, Johnny.” 

Based on this post by @ outsidersheadcanons

[carlottawllms]

The Cursed Last Step

Ben Chilwell x Reader Fluff Word Count: 3.1 Mentions of injury

Another Ben one for the blurb/imagine series and I really hope you'll like it. It's based on a request I'll post seperately - anon, I hope this is what you wanted! :)

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. Enjoy! <3

At the age of 18 you’d decided to go chasing your dreams in London instead of rotting away in the small village you’d grown up in. And it had been the best decision you could’ve ever made. It had made you grow and mature, you had made friends for life, graduated from university and got the job you’d been working towards for years.

And then it had also brought Ben into your life. Benjamin James Chilwell. He was a lot, footballer for Chelsea, an England international first and foremost, and then he was also a model and advertising partner.

But to you, he was just Ben.

Your support in good and bad times, your shoulder to cry on, your rock in every situation. He was your safe haven, your happy place and your person. Ben was your everything.

Last year, after a having been in a relationship for about a year and a half, you’d moved in together. A bit reluctantly, as his house was far above what you could afford, but wit the deal that you’d do the weekly grocery shopping as well as some of the insurances, you’d eventually agreed.

Ben had given you the freedom to add your own touches to the house to make it your home too and little by little, you’d added some decorative items, blankets and pillows, framed photographs as well as flowers in the rooms.

Of course, you hadn't just bought stuff and put it down, but had spoken to Ben to make sure he didn't think it was completely awful as it was still his house and you wanted him to feel comfortable as well. Only when he’d cleared you a room for your office, you’d simply done as you’d pleased.

Having lived on your own for a couple of years had paid off and you liked to think of yourself as an independent woman who didn’t shy away from doing manual things. Handicraft things in the house weren’t a problem, but rather a possibility to take your mind off of things and have a bit of fun.

It was one of your qualities that Ben was incredibly proud of, and never stopped mentioning it to friends and family. The chest of drawers in the hallway you’d built yourself? Ben kept talking about it as if it was a world first.

So, when you’d noticed the defective LED light bulb in the bathroom a few minutes ago, you hadn’t hesitated long and grabbed a replacement from the utility room.

A satisfied smile flitted across your face once the new bulb sat firmly in the light fixture and with your head already at what you’d make for lunch, you took the steps of the small ladder. It was your constant companion for these things as you were rather small and all things higher up were just about always out of reach.

Lost in a mental debate on whether sandwich or salad would be the choice for dinner, you forgot to watch the steps and the supposed last step was one too early. Instead of stepping on metal, you stepped into nothingness, lost your balance and in an attempt to save yourself, you twisted your ankle on the tiled floor.

“Aaah fucking hell.”, you hissed, as a pang of white-hot pain shot through your foot and brought tears to your eyes. With your vision blurred you just about managed to grab the edge of the bathroom counter when the room began to spin around you and slowly, with your back against the counter you slid down until you were sat on your bum.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You wanted to scream and cry, anything to alleviate the pain, but you desperately didn’t want Ben to know. He had enough on his plate already and you were a big girl, an independent woman who could go through this alone and see a doctor the next day.

You’d somehow make it through this day, you decided. It was your stubbornness and a little bit of pride speaking from you, but apart from that you were also embarrassed at how you’d ended up like this. Falling from a ladder because you’d missed a step felt pathetic.

And maybe it would get better throughout the day…But with your legs stretched out in front of you, you didn’t need to take a look at your left ankle to know it was bad. The searing pain was speaking for itself, burning in your ankle and flickering up your lower leg and yet, when you eventually dropped your gaze to your foot, you were quite shocked to see it swollen already.

“Shit.”, you hissed, head dropping back against the counter, and you angrily wiped the tear that just fell. How could you be stupid enough to fall from a ladder? You out of all people? You’d cut shelves with sharp saws, worked with drills and used knives in the kitchen every day. But a bloody ladder ended up being your worst nightmare?

If you weren’t in such pain, you surely would’ve laughed at the whole situation.

“y/n? You’re done up there?” Ben calling for you reminded you that he was still downstairs and waiting for you.

“Yeah, give me a minute and I’ll be downstairs.”, you replied in hopes your voice didn’t sound too strained. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hands and scrambled to your feet as best as you could.

In order for Ben not to get suspicious, you had to put on a brave face and act as if nothing was wrong, but the second you put a bit of weight on your foot, you were close to screaming. “Okay, y/n, get it together. You’ll be fine.”

The stairs were fortunately out of Ben's sight – if he was still in the living room that was – so you hopped down the steps as quietly as you could and once at the bottom, you held your breath as you placed your injured foot on the floor.

The walk towards the kitchen was pure and utter agony. You’d underestimated the pain and with every step you felt like you were going to collapse. Biting the insides of your cheeks to stop yourself from crying out, you walked as normal as you could whilst ignoring the tears brimming in your eyes.  

Deep down you knew the attempt at hiding such a big thing from Ben would be a futile one, as he would probably find out rather sooner than later, but you felt like you at least had to try. With his ACL and the following hamstring injury, he’d been through hell and back, physically and mentally. Something that was way worse than a stupidly twisted ankle and even though you knew he’d slap you silly for this thought, you felt pathetic and like you were in no position to complain to him out of all people.

But Ben being Ben didn’t take long to realise something was off with you. It wasn't your sudden change of mind about lunch, that irritated him. Swapping sandwich or salad for ordering in was typically you and he hadn't questioned it, but the fact that you were uncharacteristically lazy had him wondering.

You were just lounging on the sofa with your attention everywhere but on the unopened parcel by the door. It had arrived before you’d gone upstairs to change the lightbulb and whilst normally, you’d be up and opening it, you hadn’t given it so much as a glance.

Something else that bothered him was how far away from him you’d settled on the sofa. You loved cuddling as much as he did, always in his arms or on his chest, basically searching for his touch, but the second you’d joined him in the living room, you’d flopped down on the other side of the sofa.

For the last 10 to 15 minutes Ben had been searching even the furthest corners of his brain in hopes to find something he’d done wrong, but he hadn’t. “Do you want to join me walking Oscar? I want to leave in like 5.”

“I’d actually like to stay if that’s okay? I thought about making some cookies.” It was a bad excuse, a really bad one and Ben only confirmed that with furrowed brows. He knew you’d never say no to walking Oscar with him as you valued the peaceful time you got to spend together. You always told him how being outside with him, holding his hand and leaning your head against his shoulder, whilst taking the sun in and playing with your furry best friend was one of your favourite things to do, so you rejecting him right now, had the worry gnawing at his insides.

What if you were sick? But you would tell him, wouldn’t you?

Ben got up from his side of the sofa and walked over to where you were, eyes trained on your slightly slumped posture and his suspicions of something being wrong with you were confirmed the second he accidentally knocked his foot against yours. You flinched and when he tilted your head back with his finger beneath your chin, your eyes were filled with unshed tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His heart broke at the sight of you all upset, but when he sat down and pulled you into his side, you immediately shook your head.

“It’s nothing Ben, I promise.” You somehow tried to control the trembling of your voice, but the pain in your foot got worse and worse. Especially because you couldn't put it up without Ben noticing.

“y/n, it’s obviously not nothing. Did I do something? Has something happened?” He cupped your cheek with his warm palm, thumb stroking softly over your cheekbone and you hated how he could see right through you. His soft green eyes stared into your own, worry swimming in his gaze and you knew you had to be honest with him.

“My ankle hurts a little, but it’s not that bad. Nothing to worry about.”, you waved off, trying to play it down as you really didn’t want to offload it onto his shoulders. He needed to focus on that opening game tomorrow.

But of course, he wasn't going to be fobbed off just like that. “Your ankle?”, he pressed, eyes already trailing down your leg, but from the way you’d positioned yourself he couldn’t see anything.

“I twisted it a little, but it’s really not that bad, Ben. I just don’t want to go outside for a walk now.”  

Ben didn’t believe a single word of what you said. He knew you wouldn’t be on the brink of tears if it wasn’t bad, and his presumption was confirmed the second he carefully grabbed your leg, accidentally causing you to yelp in pain, and put your foot into his leg.

“Jesus, y/n.”, he gasped at the sight of your visibly swollen ankle. A slightly blue bruise was forming already, and it didn’t take a doctor to see that something was really wrong. “When did this happen?”

“When I changed the lightbulb.”, you whispered in embarrassment as a tear rolled down your cheek, but you were quick in wiping it away with your sleeve. You hated being like this in front of him. “I misjudged the last step on the ladder, kind of fell on my ankle and twisted it. It’s not too bad, I’ll go and see a doctor tomorrow if it’s not better or something, I-“

“y/n.” Ben forced you to return his worried gaze as he cupped your cheek with his hand again. “Why didn’t you tell me? Baby, you’re obviously in a lot of pain and you’ve been walking on it.”

“I just…I didn’t want to tell you.”

“You didn’t want to tell me?” You hated to see the disappointment and hurt flicker through his eyes, but you still nodded. “But why?”

“It’s just…you’ve been through so much pain with your ACL and then the hamstring…like you’ve been through so much worse, I just felt pathetic for crying because of a twisted ankle and-“

“Stop.” Ben interrupted you gently, but sternly with an incredulous expression in his wide eyes. His heart had dropped into his stomach, not quite believing you hadn’t wanted to tell him because of his injury history. “You didn’t tell me because of my injuries? Love, this is not some sort of competition where one injury tops another. Don’t belittle you pain just because it’s not a ruptured ACL or something.”

He dipped down and brushed his lips against yours softly before pulling back. “I’d never think you’re pathetic or overdramatic y/n. You could have a little cut on your finger, and I’d worry as much as you do whenever I’m hurt because I care about you and want you to be okay, yeah?”

With his thumb, he gently brushed over your cheekbone, trying to stay patient and give you a moment to calm down. He knew that putting the foot up helped a little already as the blood wasn’t constantly rushing down and making the throbbing worse, but you still had to be assessed. For your own sake – and his.

“Thank you, Ben.”, you whispered. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just didn’t want you to worry and instead focus on tomorrow. It’s a big game.”

Ben sent you a fond smile, heart squeezing in his chest at your thoughtfulness. He knew that you and him were the same, always putting the other first and trying to get things without bothering the other, but his ACL injury had taught him a lot about letting others – especially you – in and relying on people for help.

No one was invincible and sometimes help from someone else was the only way to get through it.

“I know baby, but don’t do that again okay? I don’t care if it’s the first game of the season, the Champions League final or anything else. You come first, always. I’d give up any chance on a title if that meant you’re okay, yeah?”

You nodded sheepishly, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Sorry. Next time I’ll talk to you. Although I hope there won’t be a next time cause this hurts like a bitch.”, you chuckled, and as much as Ben hated to hear that, he was relieved you finally admitted in how much pain you were.

“I’ll send a pic to Dimi and see what he says. Maybe he’s still at Cobham and we can go and see him, then you-“

“Ben, I don’t want to be a burden. He’s the club doctor, I’m sure he has better things to do than to take care of a player’s girlfriend a day before a game.”, you interrupted.

You’d met the English man a couple of times when you’d picked up Ben at the training ground as he still kept a close eye on your boyfriend to make sure everything was okay. He was a kind man and you knew he’d say yes to looking at your foot, but you didn’t want to bother him with a silly injury like yours.

“None of that, baby. He’s told us several times that whenever we or our partners have a problem we can call him.”, Ben told you as he grabbed his phone and before you could protest more, he’d already taken the photo and was typing on his phone.

You sighed in defeat, knowing there was nothing that could change his mind and once he was done typing, Ben went to the kitchen to grab a package of frozen peas for you. As he was back on the sofa, he helped you settle with your back against his chest before handing you the frozen package he’d wrapped into a tea towel.

“Thank you, Ben.”, you whispered, head falling into his chest as the pain started to make you feel a little tired.

“I just want you to be okay and taken care of, y/n. There’s no need to thank me.”, he smiled and pressed a small kiss to the top of your head. “I know you feel like you’re putting something on my shoulders with your injury, but it doesn’t feel like that to me, you know? When I’d done my ACL and then later the hamstring, you didn’t hesitate for a second to switch to working from home, driving me to tests and physio sessions and so much more. Back then, you gave up a part of your life to be able to support me and I wouldn’t have made it without you. You were – and still are – my rock and safe haven and I just want to be the same for you.”

His kind words had tears springing to your eyes and you cuddled a little more into his chest, as Ben tightened his arms around you.

“Just let me be there for you, y/n.” Ben laced his fingers through yours, thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand.

“I love you so much, Ben.”, you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak up properly, but when he squeezed your hand and kissed your head again, you knew he’d heard.

“I love you more, y/n.”

Normally, you’d never leave it at that, but the exhaustion was catching up with you. Your eyes fell close and with the even beat of Ben’s heart you were slowly drifting off.

For a while, Ben just held you close to himself, watching the way you drifted in and out of consciousness. He could see whenever a new wave of pain rolled through you and woke you up again and eventually after another 30 minutes, his phone vibrated.

“y/n, love?” Ben brushed through your hair in an attempt to wake you up carefully. “Dimi’s just messaged me, we can get you checked at Cobham.”

-

Your injury turned out to be a severe ligament sprain, leaving you on crutches for a couple of weeks and Ben made sure to never leave your side unless he had to.

And whenever you asked him to help you with something and that pretty smiled appeared on his face, you finally understood that being there for you meant as much to him as being there for him had meant to you.

__________

I genuinely hope you enjoyed reading this. You would make my day if you left a little feedback so I can see what you liked and what I can improve on 🩷

[ellaa-writes]

Henlo!! I just saw ur doctor/medic reader story and i feel like they would all want to hear the absolute crazy cases and gossip from reader

Im a student and i work in a large hospital/shadowing some doctors aswell and someday’s these crazy things happen randomly. In the least expected ways. From getting a sudden code stroke to seeing 🪱🪱on body parts to hospital staffs gossips in the med room. Its so random sometimes.

Imagine doctor reader casually telling the time she caught so and so cheating in an empty room in between 2 codes. And shes so chill about it like shes seen and heard enough but the Kortac officers r eating it up like listening to Nurse John’s podcasts😂

Reader: yk this reminds me of the time i did my trauma rotation in—

Konig: wait! Let me get my snacks and tea👀☕️

Hello!! Thank you <3 This is so silly I love it. Decided to have fun with it. It's kinda gross but hey that's what happens. Lol.

It's going to be a rough day, you thought. Not even 2 hours into your shift you had two concussed idiots sitting in your waiting room. This is gonna be a long one, you started at noon and won't be done till 4am the next morning.

Clutching your coffee you prayed for a miracle, an alien ship or a metor. Either one would do.

Later that evening, specifically dinner time. You were the last to arrive, having to help hold down a patient as another medic stitched up a gash on his forehead.

"I know, I know." you said as you sat you lunch down in front of your chair. Running off to grab a much needed coffee. It was your turn for the over night shift. It wasn't a bad shift, just babysitting the wounded soldiers that are currently being held. Coming back and setting yourself into your spot, digging into your food without a cause to the wind.

"You guys won't believe my day." you started off, slurping down your heart spaghetti. "Some rookies decided to play chicken and now they both have a concussion. And one probably memory loss. Couldn't even tell me his name." you shook your head, recalling the incident. "Than Hutch came in, complaining that he can feel worms crawling in him. I had to explain four times to that dense mother fucker that worms can not survive stomach acid." you stopped to take a big gulp of coffee. "But he wouldn't listen, said it wasn't in his stomach but inside his skin. Ran some blood tests and no hallucinogenic. But he could have fooled me." you didn't realise you were blabbing until you looked up from your plate to see a few of your team members surpressing their laughs.

"What?" you asked, mouth full of spaghetti. "Why don't you chew a bit more." one of them offered. Making the other laugh, "Oh fuck off." you spat. "Anyways, had to give Hutch an xray just to prove there's no damn worms in him." you explained.

"An xray? Does that-" you cut them off. "No, not at all. But it shut him up." they all bursted out laughing. "It reminds me of a patient I had back at the ER. Complaining about his ass itching. The other nurses weren't taking him seriously. Just sent him to the bathroom with some baby wipes." you stopped abruptly, this might not be a good dinner story.

"Oh come on Katze, don't get all shy on us now." König said, you didn't even notice he was there. You also didn't notice the rest of the mess hall getting quiet to listen to your story.

"Oh, well we're eating." you tried to explain but was met with loud booing. "Fine, fine." you yelled back. Wiping your mouth, your food finished, you pushed the tray away from you.

"Ok, so they sent him to the bathroom and he came back later saying he can still feel them."

"Them?" Horangi interrupted, and was followed by shushing. "Damn, sorry. Continue." he slinked back into his chair.

" So they put him in a room, told him to strip from the waist down. Another trainee and myself were assigned to this case along with a RN. She had him lay on the side has she spread his ass cheeks. Like you would a child." you stopped from dramatic affect. Watching as your tream and the rest of mess hall looked on in anticipation.

"We saw nothing. So she took a swab, had me spread this grown man's cheeks as she inserted it into the recum, shoveling out what ever was in side. Still nothing." a few people got up and left and others choking back a gag.

"She wet had him pop a squat over the trash can and cough. Sure enough a worm came shooting out. So did some green chunks, thankfully they were just some cucumbers. Guess the guy stole a cucumber from his neighbors garden not knowing it was infested with worms. He shoved the thing right up and it broke. He was like that for 2 weeks, worms up the ass. Still not the craziest thing I experienced, let me tell your that." you reached for your tray, but König took it for your instead.

"A cucumber up the ass?" Horangi asked. "I've seen people shove all sorts of thing up their butt. Idk what it is or why but it's way to common." you threw your finished coffee cup in the trash.

"Sorry I gotta get back. The results for mister chicken should be in by now." you said you goodbyes and waved to others, rushing out of the lunch hall.

"What a women." König said, hearts in his eyes.

[dearestro]

Flirtatious Feelings Part 2

Summary: Reader has just started working at Princeton-Plainsboro and after seeing the cute older doctor. Well, she decides to have some fun...who knew it would turn into more?

Warnings: Innuendos and crude language.

Gif is not mine. I found it on Google. If it is yours and you do not want me to use it please tell me, and I'll take it down!

Part 1

Your Pov

"Should we make this interesting?" I asked as we set up the pool table. He paused and looked up at me. 

"How so?" I smirked at his cautiousness.

"Mmm...winner gets a prize?"

"Yeah...ok." He chuckled softly.

We had finished playing pool (I won) and left the bar. James was walking me to my apartment and we stopped just outside my door. I was about to go in when I stopped to turn and look at him.

"I forgot about my prize!" I feigned a gasp. 

"Right! Let's say....twenty bucks?" He started to pull out his wallet, but I shook my head and laughed.

"Or...we could do this?" I pulled his face towards mine and kissed him gently enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. After a few heavenly seconds I pulled back, he seemed to linger in the air, eyes closed. I smiled. "Thanks for the date." I said before entering my apartment and closing the door behind me. My back hit the door before I turned to peer out the keyhole. I laughed at the sight outside of the door. James was doing a goofy but cute victory dance. I opened the door and just watched as I leaned on the doorway. He suddenly turned and saw me.

"Can we forget you just saw that?" He blushed as he stopped dancing. I laughed.

"Nope." I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek before going back inside. "Goodnight, Jimmy!" I called to him.

"I regret nothing!" He shouted through the door, I could only imagine how crazy he must've seemed to the neighbors as I laughed to myself at the man's antics. 

Wilson's Pov 

I sat in my office thinking about last night when House barged in.

"How was your date?" I frowned at him in confusion.

"How did you-"

"Oh, cut the crap. A little birdy told me. Besides, you are way too happy for seven in the morning." I rolled my eyes at him. "So, did you score? Is that hot bod just as sexy naked as it is clothed?"

"That is none of your business." I said apparently a little too defensively. 

"So that's a no. What did little Wilson not feel up to it? Doesn't work like he used to? Or did she finally snap to her senses and realize you're not her type?" I scoffed and walked over to him.

"I'll have you know my-" I quickly cut myself off as I saw her walking towards my office. 

"Your what? Your penis?"

"Who's penis?" I felt my face heat up, and I could only imagine how red I must've been. I tried to say something anything, but House beat me to it.

"Wilson's." She looked between the two of us before quickly hiding her shock.

"Right...anyways..." She averted her eyes and slightly blushed at the situation.

"I'll be going now. You know how it is. Patients to ignore and people to hide from." He finally left but not before turning at the doorway and giving me an over exaggerated wink and thumbs up. I rolled my eyes. In moments like these, I wish he would drop dead...or that I would. Either or.

Your Pov

Upon hearing what House said, I felt my cheeks burn up, and I looked to the ground. Thankfully, he left soon enough. I was still concentrating on my shoes when James spoke up. 

"You'll have to e-excuse him. He's insane." The corner of my mouth twitched up in amusement. "When he said- he meant-" I looked up to find him struggling to find the words, but I quickly cut him off.

"It’s ok. We don't have to talk about 'it' Dr. Wilson." I said, referring to the previous conversation I had walked in on. I smiled slightly at him, trying to ease the tension, but his face fell. "Maybe we should get to work?"

"Yes! Of course." He said quickly composing himself.

Wilson's Pov 

After a long morning it was finally lunch. I ate in silence waiting for House to inevitably join me. After all how could he possibly make the day worse?

He eventually came and sat down across from me. We continued to sit in silence until he made a move for my sandwich, but I quickly moved it out of his reach and continued to eat.

"What? You're mad?" He asked as if it was absurd to be upset with him. I ignored him. "The silent treatment? Really? What are you, a woman?" I rolled my eyes at his sexist comment.

"You don't get it, do you? I really like her, and all you do is embarrass me." He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "No! I'm serious! You know what she called me after you left? 'Dr. Wilson'." He let out an over exaggerated gasp.

"Noo! She called you your name! What a bitch!" I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm.

"Yesterday she was calling me Jimmy and kissing me. Today, nothing!"

"And you blame me?"

"Yes!" I shouted a little too loud as I threw down my sandwich. Everyone in the cafeteria looked towards our table. He scoffed and was about to protest when someone sat next to me. I looked to my right to see her.

"Hey, sweetheart!" She leaned over to kiss my cheek. I was stunned. 

"I'll leave you two to talk. See ya Jimmy!" House said as he took off with the remainder of my lunch. I swallowed as I gained the courage to turn and face her.

"'Sweetheart'?" I asked hesitantly. She paled.

"Yeah...if-if that's ok, of course." I nodded.

"It-it's great! I'm just...a little confused..." She quirked a brow. "I mean, this morning, it was all, 'Dr. Wilson' this and 'Dr. Wilson' that...I-I thought that that meant last night was a-a fling...of sorts." I stammered as a look of understanding came over her.

"No!" She said quickly. "I mean no, I don't want it to have just been a fling." She took a deep breath. "I really like you it's just this morning we were working, and I guess I thought it best to remain professional? I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you, James." My face flushed as I realized my assumption was wrong. 

"No, it's ok! I uh... I should've figured that out." I looked down at my lap trying to avoid her gaze, but she took my chin in her hand and made me look at her.

"That's alright. I probably should've clarified earlier, especially since it was just the two of us, and this is so...new." I relaxed under her touch.

"Maybe we could talk it over? Tonight? If that's not too soon..." I hastily added trying not to seem desperate.

"I can't. I have plans." I frowned a little at the rejection. "But I'm free tomorrow." I grinned. 

"Perfect! After work?" I asked. She leaned in and pecked my lips.

"Of course." Her hand dropped to the table. "I saw House take your lunch..." I grimaced a little at the reminder. "Do you want to share mine?" 

Your Pov 

I lay in bed, staring at the man across from me. He was sleeping so peacefully. 

"Honey, you're staring." He murmured, his eyes still closed. I rolled my eyes. "What are you thinking about?" He opened his eyes and looked at me. I smiled and put my hand on his cheek.

"The first week we met." He laughed lightly.

"That's not good. I was a total dork. I still can't believe you went out with me." I chuckled and patted his cheek.

"Don't worry, Jimmy. You're still a goofy dork." He rolled his eyes at my response.

"Gee thanks."

"Do you remember that conversation I walked in on? My second day?" He nodded. "Well, now that we're married...I can personally vouch that there is nothing 'wrong' with your penis." His face turned red, and I kissed his nose.

"You-you heard that conversation?" 

"House told me soon after, but I didn't want to embarrass the hot guy I had just met, so I kept it to myself." He shook his head in disbelief. 

"I'm gonna kill him." I laughed as he blushed furiously. 

[tarithenurse]

Handle with care - 4

Fandom: MCU. Pairing/starring: Bucky x fem!reader. Word count: 1148. Content: So much pining it’s ridiculous...and more! Physical reactions. A/N: Let me know what you think and please reblog – it’s fuel for more! There’s a taglist too so send an ASK if you want on it.

4.

- Reader’s PoV -

You’ve watched the second and third movie with the guys, enjoying how enthralled they were by the adaptations while you had to bite back nerdy comments.

Rather than go home and then back again, this Friday you’ve opted to just work a bit longer (goodness knows there’s plenty to do anyways), staying in the Tower until it’s time to meet up with the guys.

Pepper clocks out an hour before you, finally heading further up to wrangle Tony from the lab. Natasha has been gone all week, supposedly taking care of something above your pay grade and combining it with a visit to the elusive Barton. And Banner? He’s gone consulting on something for Doctor Selvig. In other words: although you’d like to hang out with more of the team, you have to wait longer for that.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice startles you, making you smack your head up in the desk as you had bent down to retrieve a pen from the floor. “Sorry, you okay?”

Manoeuvring to safety and rubbing your head, your send him a smile. “I’m good. What’s up?”

He looks a bit worried but accepts your answer. “I need to head out. Washington.”

“Now?” You can’t help but feel a bit crestfallen – you’d really looked forward to tonight.

Steve nods apologetically. “Yeah. Just gonna be you and Bucky. Don’t pick a movie from the list!”

With that he waves goodbye and stalks down the hallway, leaving you to ponder the turn of events.

A movie night alone with Bucky? Sure, you don’t mind that. It’s not that you don’t like Steve’s company – he’s a good guy. Fun and intelligent and has that sort of soothing presence where it feels like everything is or will be alright.

But Bucky. Bucky is...something else. He makes your belly flutter with butterflies and your heart beat a little faster. It’s silly, maybe, but you can’t imagine it any other way. Bucky picks up on your thoughts before you even have to say anything.

Turning off the lights in the office, you grab your purse and the bag of movie snacks you had brought for the guys to taste. It’d be a lot for just two people even if one is a super soldier but you suppose you can just leave any leftovers for next time.

There’s no one in the living room slash kitchen but you know your way around by now and you quietly occupy yourself with lining up the snacks on the table.

- Bucky’s PoV -

She doesn’t seem to hear him as he walks in, granting him the opportunity to watch her for a moment. It’s a mundane task, setting out stuff on the table, but right now with the way the evening light slants in and illuminates her skin it’s like an image by a painter. Impressionism.

He’d been ready to offer her to cancel tonight now that Steve had to go to Washington but seeing her? No. Something primal and selfish fills him, urging Bucky to go through with the plans so he can have her all to himself.

“Hey doll,” he says softly, enjoying the way she turns to smile at him. “Need a hand?”

“All done. We just need to pick a movie.”

He couldn’t care less about that but he needs the excuse to sit next to her in the couch and steal glances at her.

“Any suggestions?”

They end up with some movie about an archaeologist but really they could have watched paint dry and Bucky would still have been happy because he got to do it with her. She’s adorable the way she startles at the jumpscares.

Stretching his arms along the back of the couch, Bucky is so close to holding her. If only he dared.

But luck is on his side. As she changes position in the couch, she accidentally bumps into him, almost snuggling into his side. It feels natural to let his arm wrap around her then and when she looks up at him, it isn’t a questioning or offended gaze that meets Bucky, but a shy smile.

“You don’t...you don’t mind, do ya?” he mumbles sheepishly.

She shakes her head. “I like.”

Movie forgotten, he can’t tear his eyes from hers. “What else would you like?” he manages to whisper.

Her gaze flickers to his mouth ever so briefly, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip and Bucky knows it’s the sweetest and most sensual thing he’s ever seen. Filled with a fools hope, he leans in a bit. Inviting her. But not forcing anything.

- Reader’s PoV -

You love his crooked smile and the way it reaches his eyes. Right now it’s replaced though by something you want to believe is hope. Pushing all concerns aside, you lean closer to, meeting him halfway and finding his lips with yours. Softly. Hesitantly. But then he responds and your mind stops working.

He’s hot on your lips just like his arms around you is warm too. Then he sweeps his tongue along the seem of your mouth and you know you’re done for (as if you hadn’t already been). You grant him entrance and he tastes of Twizzlers.

Then he pulls back, looking at you from under heavy lids and with a crooked smile on his lips. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

His smile widens. “I wanna take you on a date, doll.”

It sounds so formal and for a moment you’re reminded of the time he’s from. It makes you appreciate it even more how he’s putting himself out there for you.

“I’d like that.”

“Pick you up tomorrow at six?”

You nod with a smile of your own.

Wrapped up in his arm, you manage to almost pay attention to the rest of the movie. Kinda. Except for when he’s kissing you. Which happens quite often and sets your heart thundering in your chest.

Afterwards, he offers to bring you home but you got your car so you decline gently.

- Bucky’s PoV -

As soon as she’s out the door, something is missing inside Bucky. He knows it’s ridiculous but he can’t help but ache for her already. In more ways than one. As he lies in his bed, his body responds to the memory of her nearness against his will. Natasha’s had said that [Y/N] was horny for him and after having looked up the definition of that...well, he hoped so but he wants to do this right. He wants to take his time with dates, dinners, walks in the park, those sort of things. She deserves that.

Turning, he has to readjust his cock as it’s straining against the boxers but he refrains from doing anything else, rather forcing his breathing to slow and his body to relax. Eventually the boner relents and Bucky can get some sleep, dreaming of his love.

[schraubd]

Vaccine Day

Today was our baby's two-month checkup, and that included a suite of vaccination shots. It was not fun. We have a remarkably mellow and relaxed baby. He rarely fusses. He started sleeping through the night basically immediately. When we arrived at the doctor's office he was smiling and cheerful, happily interacting with us and the doctor and the nurses (which made us feel very guilty -- "you don't know what's coming"). He's even gotten a few pricks before in his first few weeks of life and handled them with aplomb. But these shots he, understandably, did not like. And it was heartbreaking seeing his eyes suddenly go wide when the needle went in, followed by him screaming and crying hysterically. Indeed, I think today we saw actual tears for the very first time. He was clearly both hurt and scared, and that's an awful thing to witness as a parent. (My parents reminded me that as a kid I was so afraid of shots that I ran around the exam table to try and avoid them -- imagine how difficult that was for them to deal with!). He was, to be sure, fine. In fact, objectively speaking, he was a real trooper. Some cuddles from mom and dad, and a quick feeding from the rest of his bottle (which we wisely had on hand), and he calmed down pretty quickly. He slept the entire car ride home, and for most of the rest of the day he was a little sleepier and a little fussier than normal, but basically okay. By bedtime, he was essentially back to normal. I'm pretty sure the whole process was a lot harder on us emotionally than it was on him. I do not believe child vaccination is "a personal decision". Occasionally it is a medical decision, for a small number of children for whom vaccination is temporarily or permanently dangerous. But for most people, vaccination is no more and no less than a civic duty -- an unpleasant one, to be sure, but just something you have to do as part of being a good citizen. As someone who hated shots well into adulthood, I very much understand why babies don't like them. But I'm not a baby, so I get mine. It's that simple. Anti-vaxx sentiment is often chalked up to conspiracy theorizing and lack of trust in established institutions, and I have no doubt that plays a role. I wonder, though, how much anti-vaxx sentiment ultimately boils down to it being really hard, and really unpleasant, to consciously elect to do something that hurts (even if very temporarily, and even for their greater benefit) your child. It is, in a sense, very understandable that parents would want to avoid that wherever possible -- we do try to avoid that wherever possible. And so when some quack comes along and dangles an excuse not to do it, of course it can be tempting -- particularly for parents who lack support, or who are predisposed to second-guess doctors and other "elites", or who are simply exhausted. This is not, to be clear, a justification or an apologia for avoiding vaccination. Much the opposite, it is a searing indictment of those charlatans who exploit this latent parental instinct in order to make both their children and all children less healthy and less safe. I can't think of anyone lower, and the fact that one such hustler is in charge of the Department of Health and Human Services fills me with immeasurable shame, and rage. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/oDCNYOf

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 404: Babysitting, Pre-Prologue

Melissa watched him laying there as he slept, thinking wistfully of their time together so far, these past few months. She remembered her first job interview with him, how thankful she now was to her friends at Evolution for helping set it up for her. She was even thankful for her mother, all things considered. Without them, without people like Abby, she and Jay never would have met. Just imagine! What would her world be like? She realized now how sad she was back then. Well, maybe not sad, but certainly…what’s the word? Unfulfilled. She had friends, yes, she had a good time, but now she had purpose - and it all revolved around him. Little. Tiny. Him.

A few months back she thought the best thing in life would be being important, responsible for an office, having authority. This job was going to allow her to have that. Now, though, that she’d met Jay and fallen in love with him - being with him had taught her so much! - she realized how her goals had slowly changed, blossomed and grown into what they were as she stood here watching him sleep. They were big goals, very big goals. Being important and having authority was still her dream, but she knew it could be much bigger than just at an office. 

More. She wanted more.

She loved Jay so much.

More more MORE.

Haha don’t go crazy Missy it’s too early. 

She took a nice deep breath, smelling him, and continued to reflect. They’d started out boss and employee, doctor and office manager. She’d been attracted to him from the very start, and he was - just look at him! -  omigod so much smaller now. So much more adorable. He was just so perfect! Or, at least, getting that way. She watched his shallow little breaths going in and out and as she reached out a hand to caress his forehead - oh, my! - he raised his arms and clung to her, in his sleep. His whole upper body almost fit around her arm now. And his lower body? She pulled the sheet away, to have a little look. Mr. Sock had really taken it out of him, the poor thing, but she could see his manhood still pulsing to her presence as it rested against his thigh. 

‘Oh you want me to stay with you soooo bad!’ she thought as she slowly pulled herself away. Or, wait, did she say that out loud? Was that another manifestation? “You just want me to stay here and take care of you, and play games with you all day.” But mommy has to go, sweetie. She was whispering to him in his sleep. “She's gotta go and make everything ready, just for you.”

Melissa tucked him back in and then slowly rose, towering above him leaving him wrapped up in the messy sheets with one of her used bra cups covering his head. He’d need that, with her gone. 

“You're doing such a good job baby, such a good job,” she continued, softly cooing to him, “You be a good boy for your babysitter while I’m away okay? I’ll make sure she has a fun day all nice and ready for you when you get up.”  She saw him stir uncomfortably. “Shhhhh…shhhh. She’ll give you everything you need, it’s okay.”

She tucked her bra cup out of the way and gave Jay a loving kiss on the forehead. Her heart almost broke as he let out a needy little whimper already afraid to see her go, even in his sleep. 

His hips rolled towards her. 

Awww, soon baby. Mommy has to go to work.

“Dream about me.”

========================================

Credit to RiF for most of the copy, ElephantPorn for the base of the AI image

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

TTD - True Evil 4/4

part1 part2 part3 part 4

*

“Do you understand?”

The Not-Earbuds were taken off with shaking hands. Superhero grabbed Hero’s wrists so tight the latter let out a muffled scream of protestation.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes!”

The man looked at their grimace of pain and slowly eased their grip, their eyes intense.

“I worry about you, Hero. You seem to think that villains are nice people if only you gave them a hug. Powers are a curse. Or you can shoulder them and become a hero, or you embrace them and you end in the wrong side. That’s all there is.”

“I-”

“I know it’s hard for you to understand, it’s different for you. You have a blessing, not powers. But you have to, or the reality will catch up to you. Like me, you’ll be responsible for a death.”

“Sir, you were not responsible for any of that.”

Hero’s wrists were released at once. It was the Superhero’s turn to recoil, a wide-eyed expression on his face:

“How – How can you say that? If I'd been a little quicker, I could have caught her. If I’d never approached the monster, she might have been safe.”

His fist clenched:

“If I’d killed them, they’d never have made victims then or after.”

Hero swallowed hard:

“Sir, I’m sorry for what happened to you. Truly.”

“Save your pity for people who deserve it. I want your efficacy. Can you promise me to do your job better than you've done until now?”

“I’ll try, sir. I’ll really try.”

Two pale red eyes followed them as they left the office. It didn’t scare Hero as much as before.

*

Villain’s room was still locked when they came back. Hero knocked, but didn’t try to enter. They let their back glide along it, landing on the floor, and slipped their hand under the door. After a while, they felt fingers encircling theirs. They looked at the ceiling, their eyes gazing at a small crack in all this white.

“When I was five-year-old”, they said, “my moms told me I could put my shoes on my own. It was really hard, you know. I had two pairs, so I had to make a choice, and it killed me. I knew that no matter what I’d do, there was going to be poor little shoes under my bed in the dark all day long. My moms found me in tears the next week. They had to buy a chest to make a shoe house, and a third pair so they could have fun with each other during the day.”

“That was very prejudiced of your child self. Like your shoes would rather work all day long than spending time on their own. Like darkness was a curse.”

“I was five-year-old, buddy. I didn’t think. That’s my point, actually.”

“I didn’t realize you had one.”

“I was devastated because of shoes. I can’t even imagine how it was for you, when you saw someone die.”

Hero heard a gasp from the other side of the door, but they grabbed the hand that tried to get away from them.

“My boss told me what happened. I don’t think you’ve killed anybody.”

“These sentences don’t go together. Do not even try to tell me he changed his mind.”

“He didn’t. He’s traumatized. But I’m the one who lives with you. Even if I didn’t know any fact, I know that the person who hugs me every morning before I’m going to work and who harassed me to call a doctor when I was sick would never kill someone on purpose. Of course it was an accident. It wasn't premeditated at all.”

“It is quite a shot in the dark for someone so terrified of it.”

“I was five. I got better.”

“How naive. Just because someone pretends to bear with you doesn’t mean they’re unable to murder anyone.”

Hero squeezed their roommate’s hand.

“But I’m right,” they whispered. “I’m sure I’m right.”

Villain struggled to get free and this time, they let go. After a few minutes, the lock clicked. Hero moved back from the door, staring as it opened. Villain looked at them back. For once, their shadow didn’t cover their head altogether, leaving two pale green eyes in sight, coldly glaring.

“I didn’t even see her run into traffic,” they simply said. “There were ants in the tree. I was too busy to fight with the little creatures eager to invade my very own personal space.”

Hero jumped on their feet:

“I knew it!”

“You seem suspiciously relieved for someone who pretended to be certain.”

“Hmm - it’s the ants. Everybody hates ants.”

“You are such a dreadful liar.”

Nevertheless, Villain grumpily accepted the hug.

*

Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

[kallie-den]

A Commanding Weakness Ch. 10

Uma Vilchis, the Inyx's mess officer, is the last to fall - and Wasp decides to have some fun giving the plump cook a brand new fetish

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!   For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get   immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps  me keep writing and is greatly appreciated

---

“There we go,” Dr. Hiraga told the mess officer lying in her examination chair. “All done.”

Mess officer Uma Vilchis yawned and stretched as she woke. She blinked a few times. For some reason, she was left with the persistent impression of bright, swirling lights shining straight into her eyes.

“Huh,” she said sleepily. “That really was painless.”

“Is that what people have been saying?” Dr. Hiraga smiled professionally as she made notes on her dataslate.

Uma nodded. “I’ve been hearing all about it for weeks.”

“Weeks,” Dr. Hiraga repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose it has been, hasn’t it? I’ve been too busy to keep track, but we’re finally almost done with the imp- I mean, the inoculation. You’re pretty much the last one.”

“The last one.” Uma sighed as she sat up. “Isn’t that just typical?”

“I’m sorry?” Dr. Hiraga said, taken aback.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Uma shrugged. “It makes sense. I guess the mess officer really is about the last person who needs an inoculation against some kind of alien virus.” She visibly bucked herself up and slapped a forced smile on her face. “My apologies, doctor. I shouldn’t make any of this your problem. I’m just… well, it’s been a long tour. Not a lot of excitement involved for someone like me.”

Not a lot of excitement back home either, although Uma left that part unsaid. The source of Uma’s maudlin mood was simple: she was bored and felt hopelessly overlooked. A solution, unfortunately, was far less simple. As always, Uma tried to focus on her responsibilities as mess officer. On good food, and on being a warm and friendly face to all the weary crewmen who came to the Inyx’s mess hall for rest and succor. Uma liked to think that she played a small but critical part in keeping morale high and making sure the ship continued to operate at peak performance.

But keeping the smile on her face was getting harder and harder. The long tour was wearing on people. The crew was tired and irritable. They didn’t want to chat with their friendly mess officer. And lately, there had been another change in mood, growing steadily with each passing day. Uma couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was like everyone else was in on a secret joke Uma simply wasn’t privy to.

Most of the crew were probably hoping that their mission would come to an end soon and that they’d be able to return home and see their friends and families again. For Uma, though, that prospect offered little comfort. She had a family, yes. Kids, even.  But in recent years, her personal life had seemed just as unrewarding as her professional one. It wasn’t bad, exactly. Just like being the mess officer on the Inyx wasn’t bad.

Uma just needed a little excitement in her life.

“Not a lot of excitement, huh?” came a voice. “Why don’t I help you with that?”

Uma looked around sharply. She could have sworn that she and the doctor had been alone in medbay, but now there was a third woman in the room with them. Uma couldn’t imagine where she might have come from. It was like she had just appeared out of thin air. Strangely, Dr. Hiraga had no response whatsoever to the stranger’s sudden appearance.

Stranger still, there was something familiar about her. Uma could have sworn she recognized her from somewhere. Was she on the crew? She didn’t look like it, not with those technopunk clothes and that unruly, electric green hair. Maybe she had been in one of the briefings that the captain circulated from time to time. Uma barely paid attention to those. They weren’t particularly relevant to the mess hall, after all.

“Hi,” Uma said, for want of anything better to say. “Do I know you?”

“Sure you do,” the punk woman promised as she slouched her way across the room. There was something distinctly sleazy about the way she spoke. “I’m the… uh… how about the ‘uniform compliance officer’?” She snickered. “Yeah. I’m that.”

Uma stopped trying to smile. Something was clearly wrong here. “That doesn’t make sense. The Alliance doesn’t have uniform compliance officers.”

The woman just winked mischievously and lifted her hand with a flourish. “You do now.”

She snapped her fingers.

At once, the room around Uma disappeared, drowned out by a vast, spinning, kaleidoscopic pattern that immediately tugged at her will, promising to steal it away. With her last few moments of consciousness, Uma reflected that, before, she’d been wrong. The lights hadn’t been shining into her eyes. They’d been coming from behind them.

Then, even that thought was gone. The holo-implant Dr. Hiraga had just planted in Uma’s brain drowned out her conscious mind, leaving her nothing more than an empty vessel for whatever thoughts and feelings Wasp wanted to pour into her.   And once Uma was completely hypnotized, the spiral began to pour. Shifting with every passing instant, it encoded its visual pattern with layers and layers of information that swiftly reprogrammed Uma’s mind. The implant had long since been perfected. It admitted no resistance. Within just moments, Uma’s deeply-formed ideas about propriety, hierarchy, and common sense were all formed anew.

Eventually, the implant switched off and Uma returned to consciousness. Blearily, the mess officer rubbed her eyes. The lingering effects were far worse than those of the procedure.

She frowned, confused. The lingering effects of what?

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said slowly, to the strange woman still standing in front of her. “I must have… I must have… um…”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman offered a touch impatiently. “I was just telling you, I’m the uniform compliance officer. Uniform Compliance Officer Wasp.”

“Wasp,” Uma echoed slowly. Why did that name sound so familiar? Then she remembered, and it all fell into place. Of course it was familiar! Uma rose to her feet and saluted stiffly, embarrassed at her lapse of memory. “Uniform compliance officer! Forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wasp said. She was grinning from ear to ear. “At ease.”

Uma relaxed gratefully. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why the uniform compliance officer had come here, of all places. Moreover, though, she was simply embarrassed to have forgotten about her at first. Forgetting about such an important, high-ranking officer was a major faux pas. Fortunately, Wasp didn’t seem inclined to pull her up on it. Instead, she swiped the dataslate out of Dr. Hiraga’s hand and started reading it. The doctor still didn’t react.

“You’re… right, the mess officer!” Wasp nodded slowly. “Uma Vilchis. I remember you from the crew roster. Not from the holodeck, though. Not much of a fantasy life, huh?”

“I suppose not, sir,” Uma replied.

“That’s kind of a shame.” Wasp made a point of looking Uma up and down, plainly ogling her body. She wolf-whistled appreciatively. “I wish we’d gotten to know each other sooner. Could have had some fun with you. There aren’t a lot of women built like you on military starships.”

Uma shifted uncomfortably. The way Wasp was talking to her and looking at her seemed unmistakably sexual and inappropriate - but who was she to question such a high-ranking officer?

“Well, you know what people say, sir,” she laughed nervously. “Never trust a skinny cook.”

As mess officer, that distrust was one thing Uma never had to worry about. Uma was visibly, undeniably full-figured and plump, and always had been. It was all over: her face, her chest, her belly, her thighs. Uma was, quite simply, fat. She didn’t dislike it, even if it sometimes made her self-conscious. Her figure had always been natural to her - not helped, admittedly, by the same love of food that had guided her to becoming a mess officer. A pair of pregnancies had only made matters worse, although, from the whispers that reached her ears, Uma understood that there were more than a few women aboard the Inyx who quietly appreciated the way the extra weight sat on her hips and her ass.

It was, admittedly, true, that her physique wasn’t quite up to military regs. But even stern commanders like Captain Vasser tended to let that particular regulation slip. Nobody wanted to see a skinny cook in the mess hall — and besides, it wasn’t like she was in any danger of being sent into combat.

“Anyway,” Uma added, hoping to put an end to Wasp’s scrutiny. “I think you’ll find my uniform entirely up to code, sir.”

“Hm,” Wasp mused. “Yeah, actually, no. It’s not.”

“It’s not?” Uma blinked, dismayed. She didn’t understand. She was always fastidious in her presentation. She looked down at herself, but saw nothing amiss.

“See, there’s actually a brand new uniform for the mess officer.” Wasp’s grin somehow widened still further. She could barely keep herself from cackling. “It’s just come into force. It’s meant to help liven things up a bit. That’s why I’m here, actually. To bring you up to speed.” She threw an arm around Uma’s shoulder. Uma was too distracted to register that she was a hardlight hologram. “Come with me. Let’s get you fitted.”

***

"D-d-d-,” Uma stammered, blushing so deep she thought her face would melt as the sheer, unrelenting embarrassment she felt robbed her of her words, “d-d-do I h-h-have to?”

“Yes,” Wasp replied impatiently. “It’s the new uniform. Now, hurry up!”

Hands trembling, Uma could only nod meekly and keep working the long, red, soft rope around her own body. Completing the ties - the shibari, Wasp had called it - hadn’t been easy. It was all new to Uma, but she was good with knots, at least, and Wasp had been a very insistent teacher. 

As she wrapped the latest length of rope around her thigh, pulling it tight so it pressed into her soft flesh, Uma once again checked the diagram Wasp had pulled up for her on the dataslate. It was exacting, and following it had taken forever. Uma couldn’t believe how long these regulations were getting, and she didn’t understand why they were being posted on illicit holonet sites - but who was she to question the uniform compliance officer? At least it seemed like she was almost done, but Uma wasn’t sure if that was a curse or a blessing. On the one hand, Uma was keen to put this humiliating ritual behind her.

On the other, if she kept going, she’d at least have more rope covering her body up.

Once Uma finished the knot, Wasp stepped back, looked the mess officer up and down, and clapped her hands together out of sheer glee. “Oh, yes! Looking good, girl.”

Uma wanted to shrink into her own skin.

“I c-can’t,” she bleated. “Y-you expect me to g-go out there? L-like this?”

All the way down her torso and around her hips, Uma was bound tight with rope. It fell about her in symmetrical loops, artfully designed to best accentuate every aspect of the female form. The ties around her breasts pinched and lifted them, making them seem bigger, more prominent, infinitely soft and inviting. Across her stomach, the rope was worked into a diamond pattern, like netting, drawing attention to the pale, alluring skin beneath. Around her hips, the ropes pulled tight, pressing against Uma’s curves and reminding her of their presence with every step.

On any woman, they would have looked unmistakably sexual. On Uma, it was on another level.

At Wasp’s instruction, Uma had pulled the ropes particularly tight around her prodigiously soft body. The effect was magnificent. Everywhere, Uma’s plump body bulged visibly between the gaps in the ropes. It was like she was begging for all who saw her to reach out and sink their fingers into her needy, yielding flesh. Around her stomach, it was especially visible. The rope bondage acted like lingerie, framing and shaping Uma’s belly. It made her look like the very image of fertility.

Nothing could have been more desperately embarrassing.

“It’s your uniform, Miss Vilchis,” Wasp drawled, rising to her feet. “What kind of Alliance officer objects to their uniform?”

“It’s… that’s…”

Uma’s mouth kept moving, but her brain froze up, paralyzed by the absurd contradictions in what she was hearing. It was ridiculous for rope bondage to serve as a military uniform. And yet, it did. That was what the uniform compliance officer was telling her. She could not think otherwise.

“B-but…” Uma said frantically, searching for any way out. “It’s… it’s indecent!”

“Indecent?” Wasp laughed. “Is that any way to talk about your uniform?”

Uma squeaked. “N-no, sir!”

“You should be proud of your uniform!” Wasp declared. “Isn’t that right?”

Uma turned an even deeper shade of red and nodded miserably. “Y-yes, sir. But… I… proud?”

Wasp shrugged, a cruel smirk writ large on her face. “I simply don’t see the issue.”

Uma squeezed her legs together and shivered as she felt rope rubbing against her skin. She knew Wasp was right — she was in charge of uniforms, after all — but she couldn’t help reaching for excuses all the same. “B-but it might… wouldn’t it… um… d-distract the rest of the crew?”

Wasp sighed theatrically. “Maybe, admittedly, this is just a little bit too early for something quite so… open. Even if the rest of the crew have been implanted, they aren’t broken in quite yet.”

Uma had no idea what she was talking about, but a sigh of relief was on her lips as she sensed Wasp’s resolve wavering.

“Fine,” Wasp said eventually. “Have it your way.”

“I can wear a different uniform?” Uma asked hastily.

“Oh, no.” Wasp’s smirk returned with a vengeance. Uma couldn’t help but be struck by the feeling that she’d stepped into some kind of trap. “Not quite.”

Just a few minutes later, Uma was walking gingerly through the Inyx’s corridors, heading for the mess hall - and desperately praying that her embarrassment didn’t show in her face.

They can’t see, she told herself. They can’t see what I’m wearing.

“Good afternoon, Uma!” someone called out, as Uma rounded a corner. A crewman. Uma didn’t know their name, but she did recognize them. A regular friendly face at the mess.

“G-good afternoon!” As she replied, Uma tried her hardest to sound casual. It didn’t work. Her voice was an octave higher than usual.

Mercifully, the crewman didn’t comment. A strange look passed over their face, but they kept walking without saying another word.

Uma sighed with relief - but her relief was dashed as soon as she walked past another vent, and felt a breath of cool air passing over her skin. It was an unpleasant reminder of just how naked she truly was.

She was still dressed in the uniform Wasp had prescribed for her: intricate, bright red rope bondage, artistically wound around her entire body. The only difference was that nobody else could see it. Before sending her down to work her regular shift at the mess, Wasp had issued Uma with a portable holographic projector which, attached to one of the ropes on her torso, projected a perfect simulacrum of her old, standard-issue Alliance uniform.

In a way, it was an ideal solution. Uma’s modesty was perfectly preserved.

And in a way, it solved absolutely nothing.

For instance, as Uma arrived at the mess and busied herself preparing meals for the crew who were just about to come off their shifts, she found she couldn’t quite ignore the way one of those ropes snaked up between her thighs and pressed against her sex every time she moved.

More and more, it was becoming a distraction. A sharp bite of unwelcome pleasure that nipped at her over and over again, threatening to turn her words into moans and fill her face with unwholesome color.

Why did she have to wear this under the hologram? Uma kept asking herself that question. And she kept reminding herself of the only answer she had:

It was her uniform. She had no choice.

All Uma could do was take deep breaths in a bid to stay calm as she started serving the crew of the Inyx their meals. One by one, the weary crewmen came to queue up in front of Uma so she could dole out the meals she had carefully prepared earlier that day. As usual, most of them had little more to offer in return than a nod or a half-grunted acknowledgment. Normally, that would have gotten on Uma’s nerves.

Now, she was desperately thankful.

They couldn’t see what she was wearing. But reminding herself of that did Uma little good when she could still feel the cool air against her bare skin all over her body. When she could still feel the ropes. Whenever Uma looked down at herself, the illusion seemed paper-thin.

She was naked. Worse than naked.

And it was driving her crazy.

Every new face became a source of excitement. Every interaction became a fight to keep a cool, composed demeanor. It didn’t matter what she told herself. Her brain would not accept that she was clothed. It knew the truth and screamed it at her, drawing sweat from her brow and slapping an uneven, nervous smile on her face.

“Hey, Uma!” came a familiar voice. Uma looked up and recognized a crewman — Rhea — who always took the time to chat. “How’s your shift treating you?”

“G-good!” Uma squeaked, then winced. Her voice was horrifically uneven, and elicited a perplexed look in response. Uma’s anxiety doubled. She felt it in her gut as a tight knot. “Um. How’s… yours?”

“Fine, I guess,” Rhea replied. Normally, their exchange might have ended there. But it was too late. Uma had aroused her close attention. “You OK? You seem a little… off.”

“N-nope!” Uma tried even harder to control her voice. It only made matters worse. “I-I mean… yes! I’m OK. Just… um…”

She tried to think of an excuse. Her mind short-circuited. The only thought thundering through her head was a single conviction, irrational but all-consuming.

She can see. Rhea can see. She can see everything.

Rhea’s eyes flicked up and down over Uma’s plump physique. Uma could feel them stabbing into her, sharp as needle points. They seemed to strip away the ephemeral guise of the hologram, leaving Uma’s tender, soft flesh bared for the shocked, lustful gazes of all who had come to the mess.

“We’ve been out here so long,” Rhea offered sympathetically. “Maybe you should take a little more rec time? I’m sure the captain would-“

A cough from somewhere back in the queue interrupted them. “Hurry up!”

“Oops.” Mercifully, Rhea hurried along, freeing Uma from her scrutiny. “Sorry!”

Uma only had a moment to gather herself before she needed to serve the next crewman. As she did, she was panting. She couldn’t center herself. She just kept falling into the desperate thrill of her new uniform.

Then it occurred to her: wasn’t this exactly the excitement she had been craving?

She choked down on the thought at once, guided by two contradictory impulses. One told her sternly that she wasn’t the kind of pervert who would take excitement from something so utterly humiliating. The other whispered that she was exactly that kind of pervert if she found something as mundane as her uniform sexually humiliating.

Uma frowned, assailed by a moment of dizzy confusion. It was like she was on the cusp of grasping some deeper truth - but it never came.

And with the seemingly never-ending queue of hungry crewmen, she had no time to dwell on it. Uma turned to serve the next, and the next, and the next, and with each one, the anxious heat in her body only grew and grew. By the time the next familiar face appeared at the counter, the rope between her legs was pressing so hard against her cunt, every movement was blissful agony.

“Good day, Uma,” said Lieutenant Kuznetzov, greeting the mess officer with a warm smile. “Everything running smoothly as usual?”

It was only recently that Lieutenant Kuznetzov had become one of Uma’s reliably friendly faces. Before, she’d been one of the least approachable of all; a butch, imposing woman with an unreadable face and no words to offer but criticisms. Now, she was unfailingly bright and sunny. She’d grown her hair out into an appealing bob, set off against a full face of makeup. Instead of her uniform, she wore a pretty little dress that set off all her body’s feminine features.

Or was that simply her uniform now? Uma couldn’t be sure.

“Of c-course,” Uma whimpered. As unthreatening as she was now, Lieutenant Kuznetzov’s eyes still felt like hot knives. Uma shivered all over, and felt the ropes more keenly than ever.

Again, Uma’s voice betrayed her plight. She just couldn’t keep it even, not when she was experiencing such constant stimulation. When Lieutenant Kuznetzov gave her a surprised look, Uma thought for sure she was going to be discovered. Surely there was no way someone as perceptive as the lieutenant would fail to notice that something strange was going on with her. But as Lieutenant Kuznetzov looked, Uma started to realize there was something off about her gaze. It was dull, somehow; glazed over, lacking all of its usual sharpness. If Uma hadn’t known better, she would have sworn that Lieutenant Kuznetzov was somehow tranquilized.

As if to confirm her suspicions, the searching look on Lieutenant Kuznetzov’s face eventually slackened into a dull, agreeable smile. “You look nice,” she said, before she took the tray of food Uma was holding out for her and moved along.

It was a banal comment, but it still set Uma twitching with a fierce mix of emotions. She looked nice? What did that mean? Had Lieutenant Kuznetzov noticed something? Uma peered at a nearby metal counter, studying her reflection. She looked normal, didn’t she? Didn’t she?

As far as Uma could tell, her holographic guise was holding up well. There was no hint of the binding ropes beneath. But that didn’t mean Uma looked normal. Far from it. As she looked into the makeshift mirror, Uma was struck by the dumb, nervous grin that refused to slip from her face, and by the hint of lurid color in her cheeks. Even if the ropes didn’t show, the thrill certainly did. Uma was glowing with it.

She looked good.

That simple observation set Uma’s heart aflutter. What did that mean? Why did she look so good like this?

And why was she enjoying it so much?

It was just a uniform, she told herself. Just a uniform. Nothing more. Uma’s brow furrowed. Once again, the blatant contradictions started to gnaw at her. If it was just a uniform, why was she so turned on? If it was just a uniform, why did she feel the need to hide it?

It was almost like-

“How’s it going, babe?”

Uma blinked, startled by the voice. She looked over and saw exactly what she had been afraid of. It was Wasp.

The uniform compliance officer.

As she looked Uma up and down, a ravenous look in her eyes, Uma made herself stand up straight, even though it forced the rope between her legs to press even deeper into her sensitive cunt. Her hands at her sides, she tried to subtly pull on a few ties here and there, arranging them to be just so.

She needed to look her best. Her uniform had to be perfect.

“Very good, sir,” Uma managed, just barely not moaning. It was far from the truth, of course, but it wouldn’t do to complain in front of such a senior officer.

“Great, great,” Wasp drawled. She seemed to be able to see straight through the holographic projection of Uma’s old uniform. Uma didn’t think to question that, although she did notice that Wasp seemed to be holding something behind her back. “You look… mmf. Good enough to eat.”

Uma shivered. She felt herself soiling the rope with her wetness. “T-thank you, sir.”

“But, see, I’m actually here ‘cause I forgot something,” Wasp added swiftly. “There���s, uh, an extra regulation. Something else you need for your uniform.”

“What is it?” Uma asked. The grin on Wasp’s face made her feel like she was stepping on a land mine just by asking.

“Here!” Wasp declared, and revealed the object she was holding with a gleeful flourish.

It was a dildo.

Uma was instantly, utterly aghast at the object. A hundred different protests immediately rose to her lips. This was absurd. A dildo wasn’t part of any kind of uniform. It wasn’t clothing at all, it was a sex toy. This was degrading. Humiliating. Where did Wasp get her authority from? Since when did the Inyx have a ‘uniform compliance officer’? Was that even a real position? Shouldn’t she speak to the captain about this?

Then, almost as quickly, the protests were smothered by a logic that was equal parts foreign, ridiculous, and utterly implacable.

Wasp was the uniform compliance officer. That meant she was in charge of uniforms. And Uma needed to wear her uniform.

Suddenly, as perturbed as Uma was by the object in Uma’s hands. She couldn’t help but yearn for it.

Her uniform simply wasn’t complete without the dildo.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t embarrassed, though. She was. Deathly so. Uma’s cheeks burned bright scarlet as she ushered Wasp toward the privacy of the ship’s galley.

“S-sorry, sir,” Uma whispered. “I… I hadn’t realized. I’ll take care of it at once. Just… in private. Please.”

She was so flustered, she didn’t think to question the way Wasp simply phased through the counter to join Uma in the galley, out of sight of the queuing crew members. A few of them let out impatient sighs, but besides that, none of them seemed to take much notice.

Once the door to the galley slid shut, Wasp held the dildo out toward Uma. The mess officer took it gingerly, and her shame only grew once it became clear that Wasp fully intended to watch her.

Uma couldn’t protest against it. Wasp was the uniform compliance officer. It was her right.

All Uma could do was try to stifle a moan as she pulled the rope between her legs to one side and pushed the seven-inch dildo all the way inside herself.

She failed.

“S-s-sorry, sir,” Uma bleated after the shrill moan erupted from her lips. “It’s u-unprofessional. Sorry. I j-just-“

Her words died. She couldn’t think. The long, hard, silicone shaft inside her pussy was turning her legs to jelly.

“Don’t worry about it.” The lurid, smarmy look on Wasp’s face was all but manic. “New uniforms take a little breaking in, am I right?”

“Y-y-yeah,” Uma agreed breathlessly.

She tried to close her legs. That was a mistake. A sharp, electric shock of pleasure almost made her bend double. Uma tried to take her hand away and found that the shibari tie running between her thighs was taut enough to keep the dildo in place, resting on it.

Uma couldn’t breathe for panting. She could see stars. Her knees were weak. A few droplets of wetness trickled down the dildo and fell to the floor. Her heart was pounding. She had never been so feverishly excited.

“Great,” Wasp said, openly leering at Uma. “Then, I guess you’d better hurry up and get back to work, officer!”

"Y-yes, sir,” Uma whimpered, offering a weak salute. She took her duty seriously, of course, but she couldn’t imagine how she was going to be able to perform it now.

She turned to head back out to the counter, and the very first step she took almost brought her to her knees.

It was impossible to move without working the toy even deeper inside her body, pressing ever more insistently against the most sensitive parts of her. Uma couldn’t even minimize the pleasure without resorting to an awkward, bow-legged gait that gave her away at once. All she could do was try not to let it show, but by the time she reached the counter, she needed to lean on it heavily just to keep herself upright. Uma’s every nerve ending was lit up, hypersensitive, ready to explode.

“Oh, just one more thing,” Wasp said, as she waltzed past Uma. “The regs say it needs to be switched on, too.”

Uma barely had time to process the significance of that before Wasp snapped her fingers — and the toy inside Uma’s cunt started to vibrate.

At once, Uma bent double and came.

She had already been on a hair trigger. The sensation of intense, merciless vibrations radiating from within her core was more than enough to push her over the edge. Uma saw white, and only managed to keep herself from moaning by expelling all the air from her lungs in a desperate, ragged gasp. For a brief moment, Uma forgot her shame and was carried away by the great wave of pleasure that ripped through her body.

Then, a voice called her back.

“Hey, can we get some grub already?”

Uma looked up, and as she saw the queue ahead of her, adrenaline flooded her veins and brought a goofy grin to her face. “S-sure!”

Her orgasm never quite seemed to end, as she forced herself back to the task of serving up hot meals to the Inyx’s weary crew. The pleasure stayed in her body, a constant current, ebbing and flowing whenever she moved. There was no escaping it. Every rope that dug into Uma’s chest, or her hips, or her belly, was a reminder. It all made her shame burn hot, lending a delectable thrill to each and every interaction. Every time someone so much as glanced at Uma, she was forced to ask: did they know? Could they tell?

And she had never felt more alive.

It was just so exciting. Now that her orgasm had thoroughly scrambled Uma’s better judgment, she couldn’t help but enjoy herself. For so long, every shift had been drudgery. But this was the farthest thing from boring. She was afraid of being discovered, yes, but it was a delicious fear. Something to be savored. For the first time in her life, Uma began to understand why people loved horror movies so much. It was just the same: the agonizing tension, building towards the inevitable plunge.

She couldn’t wait.

Uma was still embarrassed and ashamed, of course. Desperately so. She was a pervert. There was no denying it now. It was far too obvious. Instead, she faced a different dilemma. A different contradiction.

Did she really want to keep her uniform hidden? Or did she want to display it for the entire ship to see?

More and more, as Uma fought through her shift, she found herself dwelling on the question. It was an itch, growing and growing by measure. Now that her common sense had been dashed, the notion was all but irresistible. The ghosts of her inhibitions still held her back, warning about what people might think and what it might do to her reputation. But Uma was no longer sure she cared. She just wanted to take that plunge. To be seen. To cast aside the boredom of her life, once and for all.

How would it feel? What kind of look would she see in their eyes? Lust? Shock? Awe? Uma couldn’t wait to find out. Every time one of the crewmen glanced up at her, she was shot through with questions.

Could they see through her holographic disguise? Might it flicker out at just the wrong moment? Or could they hear something in her face? Could they read the unwholesome blush in her cheeks? Could they see the anguished, ecstatic yearning in her eyes?

Questions like that had been eating at Uma all shift. But now, they weren’t anxious. They were hopeful.

For some time, she went on like that, serving food to the Inyx’s crew with hands that trembled more and more with each passing moment. Her arousal grew and grew as the vibrator buzzed within her - but so did her disappointment, as the crewman failed to pay her the suspicion and attention she craved. Eventually, though, one of them paused to address her.

The engineer, Sai Kabir.

“Uma,” she said, stepping up to the counter. “A moment of your time? I wanted to speak with you about a few minor inefficiencies and maintenance issues relating to the galley equipment.”

A shiver of tension raced up Uma’s spine and she nodded, practically drooling as she did. “O-of course.”

She was familiar with Sai Kabir. The engineer was always cordial, if not friendly — and recently, it had been impossible not to take note of the way her chest had been bulging out from underneath her shirt. Uma couldn’t believe the mild-mannered crewman had been hiding assets like those and she couldn’t imagine what had persuaded her to start showing them off — but she had, more than once, been jealous of how the other members of the crew now stared at Kabir. And, secretly, of the blush that rose to Kabir’s cheeks when they did.

Now, though, the other woman seemed to be all business. 

"As part of our routine checks, in engineering we’ve been monitoring the power draw from different sections of the ship,” Kabir told her. “And I noticed some unusual fluctuations relating to your equipment down here. My guess is that the capacitor heating coils have started to suffer ion decay as a result of the unusual radiospheric activity out here on the rim.”

Uma just nodded dumbly, hoping it would seem like she could follow the engineer’s technobabble. In truth, her long words cascaded meaninglessly over the mess officer, adding to the busy noise that filled her head.

“However,” Kabir added, “it’s also possible that it’s due to an adverse feedback loop between your equipment and the surrounding cooling sinks. If they need to draw more power to counteract the ambient heat of the galley, and that power itself produces heat as it encounters resistance in some degraded reactor channels… well, I’m sure you can see the problem.”

“The… p-problem?” Uma panted. Talking was even harder than thinking. “O- of course.”

She really couldn’t. The vibrator in her cunt occupied all of her attention, and every time she twitched, the ropes wrapped around her luscious, plump body seemed to bind even tighter.

“Although…” Kabir’s brow furrowed, and the suggestion of scrutiny made Uma’s heart race. “Perhaps it’s a much more straightforward issue.”

“Y-you think?” Uma forced out. She wanted to moan. She wanted to moan so badly. “What, um, what makes you say-“

Kabir held up a finger to stop her talking. “Can you hear that buzzing noise?”

Uma quivered as another little orgasm tore through her.

“B-b-buzzing noise?” Uma bleated. “That’s n-not… um… I can’t…”

She was grinning. She could feel it. She couldn’t stop herself.

“You can’t?” Kabir suddenly leaned forward, bending over the counter. “It’s right there. Low-pitched. It sounds close. And kind of… wet?”

As she drew closer, Uma felt like her heart was going to explode.

“N-n-no.” Out of instinct, Uma denied it. “I don’t think… I can’t h-hear a-anything! Or maybe it’s the s-s-ship just, um, you know… settling?”

Though she was trying to head the engineer off, another part of her - a larger, deeper part - was begging Sai Kabir to look closer. To notice. To see Uma for what she was: a pervert, getting off on the secret under her hologram.

“It’s not that,” Kabir said at once. “No, it has to be something small. Maybe…” Suddenly, she glanced at Uma’s face and her frown deepened. “Uma, are you alright?”

“O-of course!” Uma squeaked. It was true, in a way. She was on cloud nine. Shame, anxiety, and arousal had all melded together into a dizzying euphoria that she could not escape. It was a kind of madness. “I’m j-j-just… busy!”

As Sai Kabir peered at her, closer and closer, an idea ignited and burned within Uma’s head. What if she just took off the hologram? She could, easily. It was right there, pinned to a rope running along her collar. Then, Kabir would see. She’d know Uma for what she was.

What kind of face would she make? Uma was dying to know.

She couldn’t help but be disappointed when Kabir suddenly drew back. “Of course,” she said apologetically. “You’re working, and I’m bothering you. Forgive me. We can discuss this later when you’re not so busy. Perhaps I’ll come back and we can find whatever’s making that buzzing noise.”

“Oh,” Uma said faintly.

She glanced at the clock and at the queue in the mess hall. The crowd was already thinning out. Surprisingly, it was beginning to look like Uma was going to make it through the entire shift without anybody discovering the secret of her new uniform.

Uma couldn’t take that. She couldn’t take being boring again. And so, driven by the never-ending surge of arousal within her, she made a promise to herself.

When the next person came up for their meal, Uma was going to take off the hologram covering her up.

Sai Kabir departed, and the next member of the crew started to approach. Seconds stretched out to what felt like an eternity. During each heartbeat, Uma was tormented by the knowledge of everything she had to lose if she went through with it — and everything she had to lose if she didn’t.

In the end, it was a snap decision. Before her better judgment could prevail, Uma’s hand reached up and snatched the miniature projector away from her collar.

The veil fell. In the brief moment before Uma’s vision became nothing more than a white blur, she saw the crewman’s eyes widen in palpable awe.

Uma knew at once what the other woman was seeing: Uma’s true self. The fat, bounteously curvy woman was, all over, tied up with ropes that made an unmistakable spectacle of her body. The crimson strands made a gorgeous contrast with her pale skin, making it look all the softer, all the more inviting. Her physique’s proportions, already mouth-wateringly plush, were only further accentuated by all the places in which the shibari ties pulled taut against Uma’s body. She looked incredible. She looked like erotic art.

But that was just the beginning.

Far more striking than simply her body was the look on Uma’s face. The look of unrepentant, ravenous need in her eyes. The shameful blush in her cheeks that made the perverse fetishism of her appearance undeniable. The way her lips were parted and wet, quivering with each panted breath. It made it all so clear. This wasn’t an accident or a mistake. Not something Uma had been forced into. This was something she loved. Something she craved. Now, everybody knew.

And there was no going back.

For Uma Vilchis, that was the best part of all.

Once her vision eventually cleared, she was finally able to get a good look at the woman standing in front of her. The woman she’d exposed herself to. It was Alara Hisarlik, the ship’s counselor.

“My, my,” the counselor purred. “What is the meaning of this, mess officer?”

Uma had no answer for her. She should have been terrified. Instead, the look of vicious, predatory interest in Alara’s eyes only heightened her pleasure.

She wasn’t boring. Not anymore.

More and more of the other crew members in the mess were starting to turn their heads and gawk at Uma. Some of them whispered, or blushed, or pointed. Uma welcomed it all. If not for the toy already in her cunt, she would have been touching herself.

“I think our sweet mess officer is experiencing some kind of… incident,” Alara announced loudly, licking her lips. “She’ll come with me to my quarters. I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry, Miss Vilchis. I’m told my new hypnotherapy program can be terribly effective.”

Uma nodded mutely. She could sense the intent behind Alara’s words. Clearly, this was no longer the wholesome, friendly counselor she remembered chatting with. That was perfectly fine with Uma. She welcomed whatever depraved plans Alara had in store for her.

It was just the kind of excitement she needed.

But as the two of them exited the mess hall and made for the turbolifts, Wasp appeared once again. Uma stood at attention, ready for her uniform to be inspected, but it wasn’t her Wasp had eyes for. The hacker grabbed Alara by the shoulders and hissed manically to her co-conspirator.

“Alara!” Wasp said. “We need to talk. Something big is happening.”

“Not now.” Alara shrugged her off. “I’ve just found a new subject.”

“No time!” Wasp shot back. “You can get to her later. This is huge!”

Alara frowned. “What is it? What’s happening?”

Wasp licked her lips, and Uma could tell if the look of mania in her eyes was born from fear or glee.

“I just intercepted a transmission,” she told Alara. “An admiral is coming to inspect the Inyx.”

---

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[newtthetranswriter]

Kuroo's right for once

Word count: 2841

Summary: When an appointment comes up and you miss the chance to potentially meet your soulmate, your best friend makes it his mission to try and find them for you. He is successful but you refuse to believe him, but boy are you shocked when said potential soulmate comes to your school for a training camp and your friend was right.

Paring: Koshi Sugawara x Nonbinary reader

Warnings: Talk of doctors and hrt, Kuroo being cocky

A/n: Hey everyone, I decided to write a lovely little piece about everyone's favorite Volleyball mom. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, I really am a sucker for a good soulmate au. Once again, the reader is nonbinary, but I tried to make it so you could imagine either a transmasculine individual or transfeminine individual, but it kinda leans more masculine. Any ways enjoy and special shout out to @keigotakamiz who asked to be tagged. I hope you enjoy, remember to hydrate or diedrate, and have a good day. REQUEST ARE OPEN

    Being the manager of the Nekoma High Boy’s Volleyball team was great. I was surrounded by fun rambunctious guys who treated me like one of the guys. It’s rare for there to be any problems with the guys, because they all know that if they fuck with me Kuroo will likely beat their asses and Kenma will definitely hack their phones and/or computers to teach them a lesson. You see, I grew up with Kuroo and Kenma, we treated each other like siblings and they have been my number one supporters since I came out a few years ago. They always defended me when bigots tried to make fun of me or threaten me, though no one really took Kenma seriously till he gave some bully’s entire family a virus with just a simple text message. 

    They got even more protective when Kuroo and I turned 15 and our soulmarks started showing up. Soulmarks are strange, they reflect the passion and interest of your soulmate, and once you meet for the first time, or you both have your marks, your soulmate’s name appears somewhere in the mark. My mark contained a volleyball and some books, there were also a couple of food items that I assume are my soulmates favorite foods. Kuroo’s mark for the first few months was just some game consoles and not much else, until a volleyball also appeared on his mark. We had no clue who our soulmates were, but I had an assumption on who Kuroo’s was.

    A year later when Kenam got his mark, my assumption was proven correct. When Kenma got his mark his name appeared on Kuroo’s arm with his mark, while wrapped around Kenmas wrist was Kuroo’s name. I was glad my best friends realized they were made for eachother, but it just made me more desperate to find my nerdy volleyball playing other half. To be honest I mainly became the volleyball team’s manager to find my soulmate. I figured if this was one of their interests I could find them easier if I work with a team.

   Unfortunately after nearly three years of being the team's manager I have yet to meet my soulmate. I’ve met every player in the Fukurodani Academy Group, and while everyone is nice and fun to talk with, none of them are my soulmate. It felt like I was fighting a losing battle. That was until I found out that coach Nekomata agreed to hold a practice match with a school from Miyagi Prefecture. This would be my chance to meet other teams and potentially run into my soulmate.

    Two days before we were set to leave for Miyagi, I was hanging out with Kuroo and Kenma. We were just relaxing as over the next week the boys would be playing an endless number of practice matches, and I was daydreaming about finally meeting my other half. I was lost in thought while Kenma was going on about a character in his new video game, my phone started buzzing. Looking down at it, I saw that it was my doctor's office. I quickly shushed the boy’s before picking up the phone.

    “Hello” I was greeted by the person on the other end. “This is Kyoka from Dr. Ieiri’s office, I’m calling to speak to Y/n Y/l/n.” They asked.

    “This is Y/n, how can I help you?” I was confused as to why my doctor’s office would call me, my next appointment isn’t for another month.

    There was a small pause and the sound of typing before they responded. “I’m glad to have reached you. I’m calling because you were on a cancellation list for your next appointment, and it seems that someone has canceled and we are able to get you in sooner.” They typed some more presumably looking for the date and time. “Would you be able to come in this wednesday at 12pm?” 

   I paused for a second, I really had to think about it. Kuroo gave me a look that said what’s up. I quickly muted my end of the call after asking the person on the other end to give me a moment. “There’s an opening on Wednesday to see my doctor. I could go and get my questions answered about going on Hrt, but then I couldn’t go to Miyagi with the team.” I explained. There was a look of understanding that crossed both Kenma and Kuroo’s face. They both knew the internal debate I was having. “I know this is a great opportunity because I’ve been thinking about going on hrt for years. But this could be my only chance to meet my soulmate. I could always say I can't make it and wait for my appointment next month.” I said about to unmute the phone.

   “Wait Y/n/n, you should really take this earlier appointment. You are right, this might be your only chance to go to Miyagi for a while, but you will meet your soulmate one day. If it makes you feel better Kenma and I can keep an eye out for someone who fits your mark and has a mark that fits you, while we’re there. It may feel like you have to pick between the two, but think of it as if the appointment goes well you can be one step closer to your best self when you do meet them.” Kuroo said, making valid points. While I would love to finally meet my soulmate, it will happen when the time is right. In the meantime I can keep working to become the me I want to be. 

    I gave a quick thank you before unmuting the phone. “Sorry I had to check my schedule, I can make that appointment time.” I finally answered. I received a ‘great see you on Wednesday at noon’ and then hung up the phone. I smiled at Kuroo, “again thank you for the encouragement. I’m sure I will have another chance to meet my soulmate soon. And you guys really don’t have to spend your time looking for my soulmate, you should enjoy your time making new friends, and playing volleyball.” I told the two.

    “Whatever you say, but if I happen to find them I’m telling you right away.” Kuroo said. He then turned to the boy who had zoned out of the conversation. “Hey Kenma, you’ll help me look for Y/n’s soulmate right?” He asked his boyfriend. He just received an eye roll before the dual haired boy went back to his game. “He’ll totally help.” He said with a laugh. We then spent the next few hours chatting and then it was time for me to head home. I wished the boys goodnight before going home feeling excited that I could be one step closer to my dreamself by the end of the week.

    By the time Wednesday rolled around I was beyond anxious, I had gotten up early to bid the volleyball team goodbye before they left for Miyagi. Getting another round of Kuroo saying he was going to ‘subtly’ look for my soulmate, before they finally boarded the bus and left for the week. Once they were gone, I went back home to have breakfast and get ready for the day.

    After my appointment I couldn’t be happier, my doctor approved me going on hrt and sent out the prescription. It would take a few days before it was filled but I was so happy, I’m one step closer the best me I can be. I had messaged the team group chat telling everyone the good news, receiving a bunch of congratulations and memes of support from the team. I also noticed Kuroo saying he was happy for me but he hadn’t found my soulmate for me yet. That got the rest of the team going, most of them joining in saying they’d help. The others mostly Kenma and Yaku telling them that they’re dumb and not to try and mess with fate.

    I texted with the boys in between their practice matches, getting multiple updates on the mission to find my other half, as well as multiple requests for me to just get a train ticket and come to Miyagi to save Yaku from the tribe of idiots, his words not mine. I sadly had to decline as I didn’t have the money for the ticket and had to be here in Tokyo when my prescription was ready. Eventually I bid the team good night and went to bed. 

    It had been four days since the boys left, today was the day that they were going against Nekoma’s old rival school Karasuno High. I sent the chat a good luck message before going about my day. It was Sunday so I finished up some homework, and then did a few chores around the house. Around 1 o’clock I got a message from Kuroo. I checked my phone and couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

    From RoosterHead: I found him.

    To RoosterHead: Sure you did. What makes you so sure that this poor guy you’re probably harassing is my soulmate.

    From RoosterHead: First, what's with the sass. Second, I'm not harassing him. Third, his mark is the epitome of you.

    To RoosterHead: What if my mark isn’t the epitome of him, have you even asked if he’s met his soulmate yet. 

    From RoosterHead: Yes I have, He has yet to meet his soulmate, who loves drawing, video games and is very passionate about their gender identity.

    From RoosterHead: And before you say ‘that could be anyone in the LGBTQ’ one of the drawings on his arm is of Victor from Yuri on Ice.

    To RoosterHead: That proves nothing, lots of trans and queer people love Yuri on Ice.

    From RoosterHead: Fine don’t believe me. But I’m getting his number cause he’s actually a pretty chill dude, understands that school is important and does not slack off like someone I know.

    I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me, leaving him on read. I went back to working on cleaning up my art desk. Throughout the day I received texts from nearly the whole team telling me that this third year from Karasuno was definitely my soulmate. It got to the point that I just muted my notifications so I didn’t have to deal with their pestering. Eventually it got late enough that I finally went to bed, not completely ready to deal with Kuroo and his bullshit when the team gets back to Tokyo.

    It’s been two months since the trip to Miyagi that Kuroo swears he found my soulmate on and it’s the only thing he wants to talk about half the time. Even Kenma has started telling him to shut up about it. Kenma has even threatened to stop talking to him at all if he didn’t stop trying to convince me that some setter in a different prefecture was my soulmate. The only way to know for sure is for me to actually meet him face to face and the chances of that happening were slim to none. Or at least that’s what I thought until the other day at practice.

    “Hey Y/nnnn, I got great news.” I heard the sing-song voice of my best friend.

    I rolled my eyes, he was probably gonna either tell me he gives up trying to convince me or by some miracle I’ll be meeting this guy who is supposedly my soulmate. “I swear to Victor Nikiforov, if you pester me about this soulmate thing I will shove a volleyball so far up your ass it’ll look like you’re pregnant.” I said with a completely straight face, earning a chuckle from Yaku as he walked by.

    Kuroo gave a gasp of shock. “First it’s rude to assume things because it makes an ass out of you and me. Secondly I was just going to tell you that Karasuno is going to be coming to the training camp this weekend. I wasn’t going to bring up the soulmate thing, but now that you mention it. This will be a great opportunity for me to prove that I did in fact find your soulmate, and I will be expecting a full thank you and apology for doubting me, including chocolate.” He responded with a cocky smile.

     “For the last time Kuroo, I doubt this guy is my soulmate. But if it will shut you up I’ll keep an open mind, if you happen to be right you get a thank you that’s it.” I said getting up to help clean the gym as the team captain was now too busy praising himself for his so called ‘successful job of convincing me’.

     It was finally Saturday and the Karasuno team would be arriving shortly, and as much as I didn’t want Kuroo to be right, I couldn’t help but be nervous. There was a strong possibility that someone on the team was my soulmate. I waited with the rest of the team outside of the school as the bus pulled up in front of us. The first pair to climb off the bus was a bald kid and a shorter guy with two toned hair, their first response was to yell about the sky tree while looking at a completely normal steel tower. This had Kuroo doubled over cackling at their stupidity.

     Shortly after them more boys started to file off the bus. The one that caught my eye was a boy with gray hair wearing a white t-shirt with a bag over his shoulder. He was talking with a taller guy with a beard and long hair who I assumed was the ace I had briefly heard about after their trip to Miyagi. I noticed his soulmark as he got closer to us, it had the image of an open sketchbook showing a detailed drawing of Victor from Yuri on Ice, just like Kuroo had said. It also had color pencils laid out in a pattern that resembled the Transgender and Non-binary pride flags. I was starting to see why Kuroo thought this guy may be my soulmate. There was only one thing left to do.

     As the pair approached us Kuroo recovered from his laughing fit. He stood up straight and started to introduce me to boys. “Y/n this is Asahi Azumane, the ace of Karasuno. And this is Koshi Sugawara, Third year setter, and your soulmate.” He said so nonchalantly that I nearly punched him in his smug face. I watched as Sugawara blushed slightly. I assume Kuroo has been texting him with the same notion that he knew who his soulmate was. “Asahi why don’t we leave these two, and get you guys settled in.” He said, sending a sly smile my way before dragging the stuttering ace away from me and his friend.

     “I’m sorry about him, ever since he met you guys he’s been insistent that he met my soulmate. Anyway it’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” I said introducing myself.

     He smiled at me before raising his hand to shake mine. “It’s lovely to meet you, Y/l/n. As Kuroo said, I'm Koshi Sugawara, but you can call me Suga.” I returned the hand shake. 

     Everything seemed normal until I felt a small tingling sensation in my wrist. I looked at it and watched as his name appeared across one of the books on my arm. It seemed Sugawara was experiencing the same thing, as he watched his arm in amazement. After the shock wore off, we made eye contact. “Well shit, I guess I have to apologize to Kuroo for once in my life.” I said in a sarcastic tone. Suga responded with a laugh before we started talking about our respective marks. 

     We had been chatting about the meaning of the pride flags that were subtly placed throughout Suga’s mark when the door to the school opened again. “Hey Love birds, as happy as I am to have been right, we kinda have practice matches to get to and Karasuno need’s their setter.” Kuroo said, poking his head through the door. I quickly flipped him off, earning a chuckle and Kuroo slipping back into the building.

     “Sorry about him Suga, but he’s right we should get back inside, we can talk more at lunch.” I said as we made our way back inside.

     He just nodded, before speaking. “It’s fine. And we can definitely talk at lunch as long as the guys actually leave me alone, they’re all going to be so excited that I finally found you. Only a couple of the guys have found their soulmates, so they get really excited when one of us does.” He explained. As we were about to split up so he could get changed into something more suited for playing sports he said something that caught me off guard. “Oh and call me Koshi.” And with that he disappeared into the locker room.