#i really enjoyed writing this i hope yall like it!

[gojos-version]

What a slutty concubine

Pairings- Y/N x Hein era! Sukuna

Summary- Your village gave you to Sukuna as an offering, so you became one of his concubines. He seems to ignore your presence for weeks until today.

Warnings- Monster fucking (if Hein era Sukuna counts as that), pet name (little one because you're physically smaller than him and he's 8ft. brat is used), his tummy mouth is used, mating press, double penetration, size kink, tummy bulge, very light choking, doggy style, full nelson and no protection.

Word count- 2.5k

Proof read- ✅

A/n- Hello!! This is the result from the poll i did yesterday! I really hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it :) I told yall id cook and make it filthy >:P Please feel free to request anything or drop any suggestions!! I hope you have a lovely day <33

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“Master Sukuna requests all of you to be lined up outside his chambers.” Uraume’s voice rings out, making you stop what you were doing. You nudge the woman next to you and whisper, “What’s going on?”, she nudges you forward softly whispering, “The king does this a few times monthly, or every few days depending on his mood. He chooses one of us to spend the night with.” She grins, “Come, let us go now or he’ll be mad.” You nod your head nervously and follow closely behind her. 

Spend the night with him? You think to yourself. What does that mean? Your heart races thinking it could mean..he’d kill you.. Or.. you stop yourself from thinking about that and shake your head. Not the time. It's not like he'd choose you anyway. He’s completely ignored you for weeks. You kneel down next to the other concubines bowing your head respectively. You hear his loud thump thump thump of footsteps. You want to look up at him but you can't bring yourself to. “They are here as you requested, Master.” you hear Uraume say and then Sukuna hums. “Excellent”, you feel his eyes scanning around the room, your heart racing feeling his gaze on you. 

“You. Come with me.” He orders, you lift your head up and Uraume nods their head at you, “Everyone else you are dismissed.” they order out. You feel your mouth go dry as the other concubines glare at you, some scoffing as they walk back to the room. The one you were talking to before smiles at you, giving you an encouraging “Don’t worry you can do this! Let me know how you go, okay? I’m Akari!”, You let out a small smile to her, “O-okay.. Thank you Akari, I’m y/n” you introduce yourself back. You didn't talk much to anyone when you got here, you did speak to Akari for a bit but never really got the chance to introduce yourself or know her name.

“Y/n, come. You don't want the King to be infuriated.” Uraume interrupts, you swallow thickly nodding your head and follow them into Sukuna’s chambers. You grip the sleeve of your kimono as you trail closely behind Uraume. They knock on the door, “You may enter.” Sukunas deep voice trails out. Your heart races as Uraume steps to the side and gestures for you to walk in. with shaky legs you walk into the room and the door shut with a soft click! “Don’t be afraid, little one. Come.” He orders. For a moment you take him in, 4 big muscley arms, a giant mouth on his abdomen, its expression mirroring his face. He's got 2 arms crossed and the other 2 by his side, all 4 of his eyes watching you. You step closer to him, standing in front of him. “What is it that you want, My Lord?” you ask, trying not to let your voice shake. He raises a brow and grins, “Answer me this, little one, are you pure?” Pure? Does he mean a virgin? If he's not happy with my answer what if he kills me?

“Um.. I am not pure” You answer truthfully. You've been with only one man in your life but, in the village you lived in before you were offered to Sukuna. You had a happy relationship with your boyfriend but god he didn't even say anything as the villagers pushed you towards Sukuna screaming out you were the offering. You see him hum thoughtfully. “Normally I'd kill you for it but since you were given as an offering, I'll give you a chance to please me.” Your eyes widen, you've only really done it once with your boyfriend. It was a fresh relationship before all this happened! It might not have been the best but to you it was more than enough.

“T-thank you, Lord Sukuna.” You bow politely. Now what? Do you strip? Do you wait for him to kiss you? Do you get on the bed???? His voice interrupts your thoughts, “Strip and sit on the bed.” He orders as he turns around to take off his own kimono and he hangs it, while you step out of your kimono and undergarments. Hesitantly you sit on the bed laying on your back. “Good.” He praises, he crawls on top of you and takes your lips in his. You kiss him back and god you feel his tongue dominating yours, your body heats up, his tongue working against yours making you moan softly into his mouth, it feels like electricity shooting through your veins from a simple kiss.

Your now ex?? boyfriend never made your body react this way with a simple kiss. His lips part from yours and he starts nibbling at your throat. “How many times was he inside of you?” He hums against your skin. Your mouth runs dry, “U-uh once”, You hear a hum of satisfaction. Sukuna moves down to your breasts sucking on your nipple harshly, groping and fondling the other one. You feel yourself get damp, slick dripping down your sopping cunt down to your ass. You've never gotten this wet this quickly. You were almost concerned you got your period early from how goddamn soaked you felt. One of his hands goes down, touching your tummy down to your cunt and oh he laughs when he feels how damp you are. “Look at how wet she is” he smirks, his palm cupping your cunt. Your heart stops when you feel something wet and slimy against your sopping cunt. “Relax, it's just a mouth.” He grunts out, putting more pressure against it. You gasp out a moan, your hands reaching out to grip his shoulders.

“L-L-ord- Ah-!” You moan out as the tongue on his palm pushes deep inside of you, bullying its way into you. “Yeah? Feels good, hm?” He says smugly, sitting back on his heels to watch you, he can see your slick dripping down your thighs and making a wet spot on the mattress under you. You feel a knot in your stomach tightening up making you gasp and moan wildly. “S-suk-una-! A-ah! C-clooooosee!!” you whimper out gripping the sheets with a steel grip, your walls clenching around his tongue. Suddenly he takes his palm off of you, “That’s ‘Lord Sukuna’, little one.”, “I-i’m s-sorry!” You say a bit too loudly. You watch as he slips his undergarment down revealing not 1 but 2 thick, long cocks. 

Your eyes widen and your mouth runs dry. “M-my L-Lord I-im not sure i can-” He cuts you off glaring at you, “You will take them.” your heart races. ‘It looks like 1 is painful. How the hell am I gonna be able to take both?’ You think to yourself, your body feels really hot, you're breathing heavily watching his every move; spreading your legs in anticipation. He notices and smirks, he hovers over you propping your legs up to your chest. You are folded in half your cunt in clear view, so soaked with your ass hole in his view too. He takes his top cock and rubs the tip on your slit, bumping your clit, his precum and your slick mixing together. You can hear his cock and your sopping cunt connecting and every move he moves his cock up and down your slit you can hear the wet squelches your cunt makes. 

He starts to slowly push the tip in, immediately the stretch stings from the sudden intrusion. “Calm yourself.” He mumbles but god he won't admit it outloud, your warm wet cunt clenching around his tip makes him want to shove his entire length into you and fill you oh so full of his cum. You nod your head blearily trying to relax yourself as you feel him sink his cock into you. 2 of his arms grip your thighs, pushing your ankles to your head while his other top arms grip the headboard. He thrusts the first few thrusts slowly allowing you to adjust but after that? His thrusts speed up to an inhuman pace, his mushroom red tip slapping against your cervix hard. You don't moan, you scream out from how heavenly you feel right now, if it's possible somehow above that. Suddenly his left top arm leaves the headboard and his palm covers your mouth, a mouth forming on his palm and it shoves its tongue down your throat making you let out muffled moans it greedily swallows. Sukuna looks down and god he could cum right then and there at the sight of your stomach having a bulge from how big he is. When he thrusts in the bulge is right there and when he pulls back to shove his needy cock into you again and again the bulge disappears and reappears with each motion. You feel a knot form and you feel like you're about to explode. You can't even warn him because he has his hand covering your mouth with its tongue down your throat.

Your drenched cunt grips his cock like a vice, your eyes roll back and you sink somehow further into the mattress and you see not stars, pure white as you start shaking from how good you felt. You hear him grunt out a few curses and he fills you to the brim of how much cum comes out. He lets go of your legs and removes his hand off your mouth. With a swift motion he flips you over, on all fours. “We aren’t done yet, brat I’ve got a lot more in me.” He lines up behind you and pushes his bottom cock into your cunt making you moan out in surprise. “T-there's- more-? A-ah!” You whimper out feeling his tummy mouth's tongue licking your ass, the hole specifically. He stills inside of you breathing heavily and his tummy mouth stops dampening your hole, his top cock bumping against your hole making you shiver in anticipation. 

“P-please..you can put it in..” and oh you feel so pathetic for saying that when he smirks and laughs. “Oh? You’re not so scared now, hm? What happened to your complaining, brat?” He mocks, his tip circling your hole. “I-i’m warmed up now- i didn't mean it before- Lord Sukuna..” You add, not wanting to make him mad. You definitely didnt want to lose your head, especially mid fuck. “Mhm, sure little one.” He laughs and starts pushing the tip in making you gasp and cover your mouth, not wanting to be too loud. He sinks his top cock into your ass making your body feel like jelly; your head slumps against the pillow. 

You let out a string of muffled moans feeling him loom over your body as he begins thrusting both of his cocks in each of your holes. God he was going to destroy you. You feel his hips pistoning against yours, pelvis and balls slapping making a lewd plap! Plap! Plap! Each time he abuses your cervix. Both your hands grip the pillow with all your might, “M-my L-Lord-A-ah!” You squeal out as you feel his cocks so deep inside of you. Your eyebrows pinch up as your head’s slumped into the pillow, your body being used like a fuck toy to satisfy his needs. 

You feel that familiar knot in your tummy, hazily you turn your head and look over your shoulder to find Sukuna breathing heavily on your shoulder, cheeks flushed with his lower set of eyes watching you and his other 2 shut. His mouth on his abdomen licks where you're both connected from your sopping cunt and your ass that's leaking with his precum. “Stop looking at me, brat.” He mumbles out, as you go to look away and apologise one of his hands wrap around your neck, not enough to hurt you but just enough to have the edge of your vision blurred. 

“I-I’m-” Is all you get to cough out before you're squirting messily over his cocks. “Yeah that's it, take it.” He grunts out before filling both of your holes, not to the brim but past the brim, his cum leaking out of you as he thrusts sloppily riding out both of your highs. You see white as you shake uncontrollably. His hand lets go of your throat and you gasp for air, suddenly when you think it's finally over it's not. 2 of his arms grip your thighs, the other 2 grab your middle and upper body which makes your body follow his as he lies backwards onto his back, 2 of his hands holding your thighs up to your chest pinning you against him as he thrusts both of his cocks messily into your holes. “H-ah! M-my L-Lord- p-pleaaasee-ah! Ah! Ah!” You scream out as he bottoms out inside of you with every quick, harsh thrust. 

One of his hands snakes down to your clit and a mouth forms on his palm, licking and sucking your clit making you scream and cry out wildly. “S-s-uk-n-ah!” You whimper out, he moans as your holes clench around him, he hisses slightly then covers your mouth with his free hand and a mouth forms on it the tongue, tongue fucking yours making drool from the corner of your mouth drip down to your chin. 

“You’re so nasty, brat” Sukuna hisses out and bites your neck, your moans and squeals muffled by his nasty mouth on his palm. Your body feels limp just sitting there and taking it. You can feel his heavy breaths against your upper neck where he's biting down, your eyes crossed as you mindlessly claw against his biceps. He's beefy. Huge biceps. “What a nasty, filthy, slutty concubine I have. I’d say your village made an exceptional offering.” You feel yourself flush at his words. Right now it feels like his cocks are trying to rip their way to your lungs, his tongue trying to go down your throat, his tummy mouth trying to soak your back and ass and his other mouth trying to bite your clit off. But right now the lines between pleasure and pain blurred the moment he stuffed you full of his cock.

Your puffy cunt and ass squeeze his cocks like you're milking him making a moan slip out of his pink, pouty lips. God youd scream right now if you could but thanks to his tongue fucking your mouth you can only let out muffled guttural sounds. Your stomachs warm tight knot knots up signalling you're oh so close to coming all over his cocks. Your vision feels faint and you feel light headed from the pleasure but youre so close. Your cunt and ass squeeze around his cocks as you squirt again soaking his pelvis and legs, your eyes roll back and the last thing you can feel is his warm cum filling you up once again as you pass out. “Brat, did you pass out?” When you give no answer he lets out a ‘Hmph’ as he pulls out of you, grinning in satisfaction as his cum leaks from your holes, your tummy plump from how much he finished inside of you. 

The sheets are soaked and so are the both of you. He puts a towel around his bottom half as his cocks soften up. “Uraume, take care of her.” He orders out, “Yes, sir” They nod, wrapping you in a towel and taking you to your bed. He hums to himself silently thinking, he’s definitely going to have more fun with you in the future.

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Masterlist<3

[nekomamiiz]

third time's a charm

kuroo x fem!reader

wc: 4k

warnings: 18+, post time-skip!kuroo, husband!kuroo, various pet names in place of y/n, domestic vibes, mentions of ovulation and pregnancy, masturbation (f), some spit, oral (f receiving), lots of teasing, soft dom kuroo, some nipple play, heavy breeding, impreg, multiple orgasms/creampies... it gets really wet, hot and messy, cockwarming, my extremely poor writing skills!

a/n: weeeee i'm out of hiatus.. sort of... this is just a lil something i was messing with before my break. finally after 2 years i finished it lol. anyway,, this is pure smut like barely any plot besides kuroo putting a baby in you and extremly self-indulgent but i hope yall enjoy it!! big thank you to @retrofang for beta reading some of this bad boy and the entire server for putting up with me heheh! likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. thank you for reading <3 kiss kiss

banner and dividers by @/cafekitsune

After months of carefully calculating, tracking, and monitoring your cycle, the time has finally arrived.

Ovulation week.

You quickly text your husband when you receive the notification on your app. The little chime went off before you left the house for work. It must really be perfect timing, and he immediately replied. 

Tetsurou <3 — I’m on my way back home. Don’t leave yet and call out for today.

— Actually, go ahead and put in your vacation request now. I’ll be there soon. 

Your reply was a simple heart emoji. You’d get yourself relaxed and ready while you wait for him. 

There wasn’t much to do. You had already showered this morning and made the bed before ‘leaving’ for work. As soon as Kuroo sent that text, you put your comfortable house clothes on and lit a few candles around the bedroom. The only thing left to do now is prepare yourself. 

So, that’s what you did. 

About half an hour later, Tetsurou walks through the front door of your home. He slips his shoes off, then his coat and that’s when he hears it—a soft and needy whimper of his name. 

As he pushes through your bedroom door, his eyes find your body already glowing with a sheen of sweat and so beautifully spread out on the edge of the bed. He licks his lips at the sound of your cute little moans and the slight squelch of your pussy. 

It all sounds so wet. 

You have two fingers inside yourself, stretching and stroking the walls of your perfect cunt, offering Kuroo the perfect view. His breath hitches at the sound of your moans becoming louder now that your eyes are solely on him, and his mere presence is enough to make your body shiver with desperation.

“Tetsurou,” you whine his name as your fingers pick up their pace in stimulating your sensitive pussy. Now leaking with a desire to have him buried inside you. 

Kuroo’s eyes trail down your body. He watches closely at how your chest heaves, how you twist your wrist so your fingers can reach the right spot inside, and how you whimper when you can barely get there. You’re putting on a show just for him, and he eats up every second of it. 

“Fuck, baby. Look at you,” he quietly groans at the lewd sight presented to him. 

He’s already palming himself through his slacks, using his other hand to remove the buttons of his shirt. He’s not in any rush, simply relishing the sight of you building yourself up to release, but you both know it’s not enough. The way you writhe and squirm on your shared bed has his body temperature rising, and he can see your want for him dripping out and onto the sheets below you, making such a pretty mess that he can’t wait to clean up. 

“You’re so fucking wet, baby girl,” he says as he steps out and away from his pants, kicking his boxers to the side. “Were you getting yourself ready for me?” he asks with a slight pout on his lips. 

You nod your head as one of your hands quickly finds its way to your breasts, kneading at the sensitive skin and pinching your nipples between your fingers. Another whine escapes you at the added stimulation; add the sight of Kuroo fully undressed in front of you, spitting into his hand and stroking his cock—your mind quickly spirals. 

Kuroo settles on his knees at the foot of the bed, licking his lips as he stares down at all the slick collected between your thighs. He wastes no time leaning down in front of your aching pussy, and he smirks at the way you continue to desperately fuck yourself with your tiny little fingers. 

“Gonna let me taste,” he asks softly, looking up at you through the valley of your breasts. 

Your face is sweaty, and that faraway look in your pretty eyes is making itself more noticeable. Kuroo knows you're about to cum, and it's a face he loves to see. 

With another simple nod of your head and a quiet ‘yes,’ Tetsurou gets to work. 

He spreads your legs further apart and tosses them over his shoulders, tugging softly on your hips so you can be closer to him. His actions rip an excited squeal from your mouth, followed by your sweet giggles. 

You continue playing with your pussy, only tracing soft circles on your clit. Kuroo smiles at all the wetness collected on your fingers and takes hold of your wrist to remove your hand. He licks his lips before popping your glistening fingers in his mouth, sucking down all of your sweet juices and humming at the taste of you.

“Taste so fucking sweet for me, baby,” he coos while kissing your wet fingertips. 

He’s looking at you with eyes so full of love as he continues worshiping your body, kissing your hips and inner thighs. He groans when he sees more slick dripping out of you, biting down on your thigh and devouring the sight of your perfect cunt clenching around nothing. 

He needs to be inside you right now, but he also can’t help teasing you with his tongue for a bit longer. He licks a long, heavy stripe up your sensitive folds, groaning at the taste of you and how your entire body shudders beneath him. In this position, you’re at his mercy, his hands only holding your hips in place while you scratch and squeeze at his forearms from the intense pleasure he’s giving you with his mouth.

Kuroo chuckles against you, finding it so cute how you buck your hips in search of him. He’s already nibbling on your clit the way you like. What more could you possibly want? 

“What’s wrong pretty girl?” he asks, placing a soft, wet kiss on your clit. “Not enough for you?”

You whine at his question. He knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it and the need in your voice. 

“Want you inside me, Tetsu,” your words come out as a needy whisper, mewling in ecstasy as his fingers trace little circles on your thighs. 

Tetsurou hums in satisfaction before he dives back into your aching center. He teases your entrance with his tongue, poking the wet muscle in and out while he presses down on your clit with his thumb. He can feel the way you shake under him, your thighs quivering when he adds more pressure to your bundle of nerves. So close. 

His gaze trails upwards, admiring every dip and curve of your body until he lands on your beautiful face. He finds your eyes already focused on his every movement, your brows pinched in an expression of pure pleasure, and your mouth parted in a silent moan. 

You trap his head between your thighs, back arching off of the bed as your body vibrates from your first release. He greedily slurps down whatever you have to offer, moaning and growling into your sensitive pussy, allowing your orgasm to rip through your body in soothing waves. 

The look in your eyes is slightly distant—Kuroo thinks—and he still hasn’t bred you the way he wants. He’s not unfamiliar with your increased sensitivity during this time, but it’s far too early for you to be this stimulated.

“I’m not even finished with you yet, beautiful, and you’re already lookin’ so fucked out,” he teases, voice sweet yet equally rough. 

He crawls up the bed, pressing kiss after hot kiss on your skin as he makes his way face to face with you, large arms cradling either side of your head. His cock is ready and burning hot as it bobs against your lower lips, causing you to hiss at the slight overstimulation. You feel a few beads of precum fall and drip onto you as he captures your lips in a near-violent kiss. His intent seeps into your mouth, and he silently declares what he’s always promised. 

“You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when you have my babies growing inside you,” he says, low and slightly out of breath. 

The statement shocks you somewhat at his use of plurals, and you return to reality instantly. “One baby at a time,” you pout playfully, kissing him again. 

He pulls away and smiles so wide that it shows in his eyes, “I know. You know what I mean, I just want a big family with you.” He leans back down, placing soft kisses on the side of your neck, laughing through his nose as you smack his bottom. 

Your shared laughter fills the bedroom, the world outside these four walls completely nonexistent as you share sloppy kisses for what feels like hours. However, Tetsurou plans to claim you as if it were the first time all over again, and he wastes no time doing so. 

A warm hand snakes its way down the side of your body, tracing your curves with such care that he almost can’t handle the thought of being too rough with you. He is going to worship you today and ensure every ounce of his love shows in every move he makes and every kiss he leaves on your skin. He reaches between you—using two thick fingers to swipe through your folds—gathering enough slick to lube up his already weeping cock. 

He pumps his fist once and then twice before pressing the tip of his dick onto your clit, causing you to moan in pleasure at such little contact. Using his hand to gently rub his cockhead in figure eights around your pussy, he continues to tease your folds until finally deciding he’s gathered enough of your wetness to press into you—something he has been waiting all day to do. 

With as much time as he spent between your thighs, he is surprised at how tight you always are for him, and you can’t help but whine at the intrusion. His cock is so warm and feels so heavy; you might come undone from this alone. 

Kuroo starts to pump only a third of his length in and out of your quivering hole. Trying so hard to hold back all of his primal urges and working on building you back up again slowly, moaning in your ear as he relishes in the warmth the two of you share. Finally bottoming out inside you, he feels you convulse beneath him. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangled in his mess of hair as you tug slightly at the roots. 

“My fucking god, you feel amazing,” he says, clenching his jaw as if he hasn’t made love to you countless times, as if he hasn’t felt the heaven that resides between your thighs for years before this moment. Testsurou raises his head, looking at you, swiping a thumb across your cheek. “Tell me what you want, my love,” he demands, kissing you and resting his forehead against yours. 

He thrusts, slow and soft, and you spread your legs wider, thinking it would invite him to go faster, but he denies you. 

“I want all your cum inside, Tetsurou. Need you to put a baby inside of me,” you mumble breathlessly against his lips, grinding your hips to try and pick up the pace of his teasingly slow thrusts. “Please, baby,” you beg. 

“Is that all, pretty girl?” he asks, pulling out of you almost entirely and thrusting back in—quick and rough. You moan his name as the lewdest sound of skin against skin echoes throughout the room. One. Two. Three sharp thrusts followed by your sweet cries of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ and it’s then that he begins to fuck you with absolute purpose. 

Your hands have a mind of their own as they travel the expanse of his back, through his hair and back down again, nails leaving red trails on his skin while your thighs slide up and down the side of his body from the rhythm of his thrusts. 

His chest brushes against yours just right, stimulating your nipples and causing you to moan his name. He knows you so well and responds by leaning down, capturing your breast in his mouth as he opens wide and sucks hard, his teeth teasing your peaked nipple as he pulls away. He lingers momentarily, alternating between swirling his tongue and using his teeth to stimulate you. 

With a wet kiss, he pulls away, wrapping his arms around you and leaning back on his haunches as he holds you close. Your chests heave, and your skin slightly sticks together, the slickest part being where the two of you are connected, and he shudders at how quick you are to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“I can’t wait to make you a father,” you say, your eyes locking on his as you mewl from how he fills you in this position. The tip of his cock is surely hitting your cervix, and the familiar throb you feel while he pokes and prods inside has you grinding in circles against him, desperate to meet his thrusts. “You’re going to be an amazing father to our children, Tetsurou,” you whimper as your eyes meet his. 

He groans at your admission, his brows knitting together as he bites his lip in response. Both of his hands find their way to either side of your hips, gripping your skin and lifting you to speed up the pace. Your lips meet in a messy clash, your teeth scrape his tongue teasingly and he begins to unravel just in time with you. 

“I love you so much, angel, and I’m so glad I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he declares, moaning breathlessly and going up in pitch with each word. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps out, his lips meeting yours again while his hands dig and squeeze into your skin. 

A few more thrusts and lifts of your hips, and you can feel how close he is. His arms are beginning to tire, but he still hasn’t had enough of you. 

“I can feel you about to cum, Tetsurou. Please give it to me,” you sigh against his lips, locking eyes as you feel him begin to spill his hot load inside. 

“Fuck! You feel so good, baby,” he says as he lays you back down. “I’m still not finished with you yet, my love.” 

This time, he grabs one of the many pillows at the head of the bed, and you instantly know what he has in mind. You instinctively lift your hips, and he gives your ass a soft squeeze before you back settle down, perfectly propped for him to reach deep inside and plant his seed. 

Once you’re both comfortable with the position, he gets back to work, grabbing you by the meat of your thighs and spreading you open. He shivers when he sees a dribble of cum slipping out and down the crack of your ass—this is unacceptable. 

Golden eyes find yours as his fingers swipe up the mess he made. “Can’t waste a single drop,” he says, sucking his lip between his teeth, fucking his cum slowly back into you with his fingers. 

Wet squelches ring through your ears as you focus on his hand pumping in and out of you—the other gripped tight around the base of his cock, edging himself. The rough callouses on his fingers stimulate your gummy walls so well, and he knows what he’s doing to you. 

“Enough with your teasing, Tetsurou,” you huff out in short breaths, reaching down to take hold of his wrist. “Because I’m not finished with you either, my love,” your smirk mirrors his own. Guiding his hand out and up towards your lips, you suck on his wet fingers, moaning at the taste of your combined juices—a little salty but so fucking sweet. 

Laughter once again fills the large room as he moves to hover over you, licking your lips and having a taste for himself. 

“Always so eager,” he chuckles, moving to kiss your neck, sucking softly. 

Rolling his hips back and forth, he slides his length between your folds, tip catching at your entrance two or three times. He still gives you nothing—not yet—because telling him not to tease you only makes him want to do it more. 

As if sensing your annoyance, he gives in, guiding his cock to your entrance once again; he settles back on his knees, pressing inside of you inch by inch. Those skilled hands of his begin sliding up and down your thighs, deciding on gripping your ankles and resting them comfortably on his shoulders. 

The meat of your thighs lay flush against his chest; you can feel the heat radiating off of him along with the sweat that coats his defined abdomen. His large arms wrap around your legs, pulling you flush against him, and you revel in the feeling of his cock finally reaching that deep place inside. 

Kuroo stays there for a moment—perfectly still—kissing your calves, taking a bite here and there. You stare at him in complete awe as he begins to thrust in and out, tip prodding at your cervix each time. His eyes pinch shut, cheek resting against your calf as he loses himself in the feel of your warm walls squeezing him tight.

“Feels good,” you whisper, offering him a sweet smile before biting your lip and tossing your head back onto the plush mattress. You reach out to him, silently asking to hold his hand, and he doesn’t hesitate to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Using your hands as leverage, he speeds up his thrusts, setting a brutal pace as he pulls you in closer and closer, mumbling words of praise through pleasured groans. His cock throbs inside of you, nearing another release, and his balls feel heavy as they slap against your ass with every sharp thrust. 

“Gonna cum again,” he grits out, hips faltering in their rhythm just as he spills his load inside of you for the second time. He chants your name while mumbling ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ a few times, grinding into you to ensure his cum stays buried just as deep as he is.  

Releasing your hands, he runs his over the skin of your thighs, rubbing and scratching in soft circles. He takes your legs and folds you in half, your ass lifting off the pillow just slightly as he leans into you. His kisses are sloppy and wet, and he grips your thighs like a lifeline as he begins to jackhammer his cock into you. 

Wet squelching becomes the only sound you can register, drowning out his mumbled words of praise. You admire how beautiful he looks, lost in pleasure, eyes raking up and down your body, both of you glistening with sweat. 

He slowly builds you up to another orgasm, your body shaking the closer you get, and your pussy clenches around his cock in a vice grip. You can’t get enough of him, from the way his hands grip your skin so gently, the wild strands of black hair sticking to his forehead, down to the teasing words he showers you with throughout. 

You cum, your body trembling as Kuroo tries to keep you still, his nails surely leaving crescent marks on your thighs. He rises—no longer crowding over you—chest heaving and dripping in sweat. His amber eyes appear darker than ever as he continues to pound into you, overstimulating your pussy beyond what you can handle. 

“Don’t stop, Tetsurou,” you beg, wrapping your hands around your legs, spreading yourself so he can focus on his current task. His hands move to your hips, pulling you closer to meet every sharp thrust. 

“Third time’s a charm, right baby,” he teases, unable to help himself. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he chokes out, face contorting because he knows you did that on purpose, but he laughs anyway. 

His cock throbs inside of you, eyes zeroed in on that thick creamy ring coating the base of him, and the sight makes him groan—sucking in his bottom lip. There’s so much cum dripping out of you with every thrust in and out, and he fucking loves it. 

“Keep going, baby,” you encourage him, nodding your head when you feel his hips falter in their movement. “Give me everything. I want it all, Tetsurou,” your words come out in broken cries, relishing the sight of him coming undone. 

A few more thrusts and his cum fills you— so warm and thick—thicker than the previous ones. There’s no doubt in either of your minds that this will take; he just has to stay inside a little longer. 

Releasing your grip on your legs, you finally relax, setting your feet back comfortably on the mattress. Kuroo continues to rock his hips slowly, pushing his cum further inside of you, his mind elsewhere as he flits his gaze between your face and your pussy. 

“You look so pretty with my cum inside you, princess,” he nearly giggles, satisfied with his work and the euphoric look in your eyes. “Think we can keep this up for the rest of the week?” he asks, breathless, offering you that same sideways grin you fell in love with years ago. 

This makes you toss your head back, mirroring his laughter and clenching around him with every exhale. You reach your arms out, and he leans back over you, placing several kisses on your chest and neck—his nose brushes against your cheek, waiting for your response. 

“Let’s get some rest first. You look like you’re about to pass out from dehydration,” you say, amused at his shift in demeanor. 

His arms wrap around your frame, rolling you over so you now lay on top of him, fingers tracing invisible words on your back. He is still inside you, keeping his seed nice and warm, not allowing a single drop to escape.

“I made sure to have plenty of water today, and you know I can go for hours when the moment calls for it,” he delivers his statement with one shallow thrust, just enough to rub against that spongy spot inside. 

Too overstimulated to try for another round, you place your palms on his chest, resting your chin on the back of your hands as you admire his features. He plants a few pecks on your forehead before he moves a hand to caress the side of your face, thumb swiping gently on your cheek. His eyes bore into yours as you lay there for a minute or two, taking each other in. 

“You think that was enough?” you ask, nuzzling your cheek deeper into his palm to place a kiss on his wrist.

“If that wasn’t enough,” he looks down, gesturing at the mess of cum between you. “I’ll make sure it will be by the end of the week,” he says reassuringly, leaning in to claim your lips in a kiss. 

After today and the amount of cum dripping out onto the mattress, you do not doubt his ability to put a baby in you. 

The rest of the week continues the very same, and if you thought you’d already made love on every surface of your home before, then you’re wrong. Kuroo finds new places to take you that you never thought imaginable, and his stamina has become endless in his mission to get you pregnant. 

➣

About a month and a half later, you find yourselves hovering over the bathroom sink, waiting for the plastic sticks you arranged in a row to reveal their results. It’s only been a few days since your period was supposed to arrive, but you can’t help being excited at the possibility. 

Minutes pass, and the first stick displays two pink lines, the second and the third following right behind with the same result—you both lean in closer. Tetsurou’s eyes quickly shift between the instructions, the test, and your face. He takes in your expression—shock and absolute joy— and pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you slightly off the ground as happy tears fall from your eyes. 

He kisses your face, setting you back down to leave another on your lips. You hum against him in complete bliss, satisfied with the results of your love. 

Tetsurou pulls away, sporting the cheekiest grin that nearly stretches from ear to ear.

 “Told you I’d make sure it was enough.”

don't forget to like + reblog and let me know what you think ! love yall <3

[sematarygirls]

stop i’m literally so in love with your acc, it’s gorgeous!!!! missed you sm. need to start writing or creating something again tbh but idk what.

anywaysss had this super cool drummer!rafe idea where they’re all like mid-20s and were suspected of murder (maybe a roadie died or an ex bandmate??)

buttt there you are interning with the local police department (aka nancy drew nerd) and go poking around (woah somehow you end up in rafe’s arms what a coincidence). maybe he did it or maybeee he didn’t, who knows. ur just a silly little inter.. right?? unless ofc this wasn’t the first time you met and you both did it together?

anyways do what you wish with this, feel free to let it rot. ur a genius mastermind either way. ily mwahhh

(here’s some drew pics mini moodboard bc why not)

Partners In Crime — Rafe Cameron.

pairing: drummer!rafe x policeintern!reader

summary: your internship at the kildare county sheriff's department proves extremely useful after ex-bandmate of local rock sensation, morphine animals, is found murdered.

warnings: smut! semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, murder, inaccuracies regarding police work

word count: 3.6k words !

a/n: this request is AMAZING omg!! your mind is literally so incredibly brilliant. i am so incredibly jealous. i just want to scoop it out and study it because your plots are always so genius it's insane. also, i got a little freaky with this request. i don't know where it came from, but i hope yall enjoy. side note, i know nothing about police stations or internships beyond what I've seen on tv, so this is most likely very far from anything that would happen in real life.

✶ . ࣪ ׅ   You cursed quietly, swatting a mosquito away from you as your fingers danced along the collection of files, skimming through the box of evidence labeled "Ryder, Elliot". It was July, and the summer was in full swing. the air was thick and heavy, causing a layer of sticky sweat to cling to every inch of your body. The cramped storage room seemed to be at least 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the police station, and it had the added bonus of recycled air that smelled of dust and mildew.

Your gaze flickered between the door and the police report in your hands, readying yourself to be caught any moment now. Technically, you weren't supposed to be looking at anything in this room. You were simply an intern, and as such, your jobs mostly consisted of clerical work like running the front desk, answering phones, and filling out the occasional police report—typically for some misdemeanor offense that they had granted you competent enough to navigate your way around.

On a normal day, you did not have clearance to be in this little room with all the important documents pertaining to cases ranging anywhere from vandalism to first-degree murder. However, on this particular day, you had been instructed to organize and clean the records room, ensuring that everything was dusted off and placed in alphabetical order.

You knew you weren't really supposed to take a peek into any of these boxes, but when you saw the name Elliot Ryder on one of the boxes, you simply couldn't help yourself. It was the biggest case your town had seen in the last decade.

"Local rock legend Morphine Animal's ex-band-mate found murdered" had been splashed across headlines for weeks, each news site ranging from local to national discussing the case and their theories, but surprisingly much of the case had remained a mystery.

Morphine Animals had been practically untouchable ever since they skyrocketed to fame. It was truly fascinating how quickly they went from small-town rockstar wannabes to household names. They became a national sensation practically overnight, and it all started when Elliot Ryder was fired as the band's drummer and replaced by Rafe Cameron.

You remembered it vividly. Elliot went around telling everybody who would listen how he was cheated out of fame. The other three band members had been his childhood best friends. The band was their passion project and they had vowed to do it all together, but then, one night, they just dropped him out of the blue, and Rafe Cameron took his spot.

People couldn't help but wonder if the band's colorful history had anything to do with the murder. The whole situation would've made more sense if Rafe was the one murdered. It would be open and shut. Elliot killed Rafe to get back at him for taking his spot and stealing the fame that was "rightfully" his, but revenge just doesn't quite sit right with the case being turned around.

Rockstar drummer that has it all kills small-town drunk nobody? It just doesn't fit.

You turn your attention back to the police report in hand. You didn't have much time left before someone inevitably needed a file or came to check on you, so you needed to focus, read it, and put everything back where you found it before that happened.

Case Number 0608

Responding Officer: Sheriff Susan Peterkin

On 06/28/2023 at approximately 2100 hours, I responded to a noise complaint at 2971 Shorecrest Drive.

I knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. I announced myself as the police and knocked once more, but again, received no answer. I looked into the window for signs of life, and saw Elliot Ryder laying prone on the living room floor with a pool of blood around him. I immediately radioed for assistance and kicked down the door. I checked his pulse and discovered that Ryder was deceased. While I waited for assistance, I secured the scene. At approximately 2110 hours, Deputy Victor Shoupe, Officer Danielle Lyonne, and Officer Franklin Hewitt arrived on scene. Officers Hewitt and Lyonne canvased the surrounding homes and took their statements to find out if anyone had seen or heard anything. Their individual statements are enclosed. Deputy Shoupe called for the coroner and cordoned off the area while I began assessing the crime scene in a spiral method. Pictures included document the blood patterns and shattered glass discovered at the scene. No murder weapon was discovered.

I instructed Deputy Shoupe to stay at the scene and await the coroner's arrival while I headed back to the station. At approximately 2330 hours, I left the scene.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you read over the report. You used the back of your hand to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on your forehead—created from a mix of the unbearable heat and your growing nervousness as the moments ticked by—stopping them from dripping down your skin.

Your gaze darted to the door once again before returning to the files, pulling out a series of pictures that documented the crime scene.

He was found on his stomach, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood. The cause of death was blunt force trauma, and it was very evident from the crime scene photos.

You turned your attention from the photos documenting his body to the ones showing the state his living room had been left in. There was broken glass from a shattered mirror near the front door coating the carpet, and the living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Furniture had been turned over, his belongings strewn about in a disorganized fashion. It seemed like whoever had been there was looking for something.

Something in one of the photos caught your eye. It was small, almost imperceptible, but the flash from the camera reflected off something imbeded into the cream colored carpet just beneath the table that Elliot's body was found beside.

Your brows furrowed as you brought the photo closer to your face, squinting to get a better look.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you jump. You quickly folded the picture and shoved it into your pocket before placing the photos and police report back into the box and hauling it onto the shelf.

"Hey, kid," Deputy Shoupe peeked his head inside, the sound of him chewing his gum seemingly reverberating off the walls. You turned, your face flushed, and your heart practically beating out of your chest. You had managed to get everything in order moments before he opened the door.

"Uh, yes, sir?" You cleared your throat, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your sticky forehead.

"Boss lady needs the Ryder files," he informed you, still smacking his gum. The sound filled your ears, somehow louder than the beating of your own heart.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you turned and grabbed the box, the piece of paper in your pocket feeling like it weighed a ton as you carried the heavy box over to him. "Can I ask why?" You worked up the courage to ask, handing him the files, your palms sweaty as you pulled back.

"Just got done interviewing Rafe Cameron," he told you, propping the box under his arm. Your eyes widened a fraction. Why was Sheriff Peterkin reinterviewing him? Was there new evidence to connect him to the murder? "So, she wants to take another look at the evidence."

"Oh," you simply said, the room seeming to grow hotter. "Whew, god, it's hot," you huffed, fanning yourself. "Are you hot?" You asked, clearly not doing well at playing it cool.

"You alright kid?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously at your odd behavior.

"Yeah, I think I'm just gonna step outside and get some air," you nodded, suddenly feeling very suffocated in the stuffy atmosphere.

"Sure, whatever," he shrugged, clearly not all that interested in you or your actions as he turned on his heels to deliver the box to Peterkin.

You hurried down the long, grey corridor, pushing the backdoor open harshly when you arrived at it. Outside wasn't much cooler, but the small, shaded alleyway provided reprieve from the sun's unrelenting rays. You took a few deep breaths, feeling better now that you were breathing fresh, clean air.

"You look like shit," a voice piped up. Your head whipped to the side, eyes finding the source. Rafe Cameron was leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He was wearing a white tank top that clung to him like a second skin. the heat was just as unforgiving on him, his muscles glistening and his hair sticking out in all directions, a few strands clinging to his slick forehead.

"Excuse me," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Truthfully, you knew you probably did look like shit. You were sweating like a pig, your clothes clinging to you uncomfortably, and after hours of running your hands through it and being subject to intense humidity, your hair was undoubtedly frizzy and wild.

Rafe pushed off the wall, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his boot. His blue eyes locked onto yours, amusement dancing in them as he approached you. "I'm just sayin'," he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"Yeah, well, you don't look too hot yourself," you rolled your eyes. It was a lie, of course. Somehow, he even made sweating to death in the sweltering July heat look sexy. It was utterly infuriating.

He grinned, amused at your attempt to insult him, but he could see right through you. "You mad at me or somethin'?" His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist, his grip sending shivers down your spine.

"You just said I looked like shit," you glared at him. The heat was making you irritable, and it didn't help that his stupid fucking earring—that you'd told him twenty goddamn times to take out—had showed up in a crime scene photo.

Rafe's thumb began to trace circles on the inside of your wrist, his touch sending electric jolts through your body. "C'mon, you know I was just teasing you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and seductive. He knew how to play your body better than he knew how to play his drums.

You stubbornly pulled away from him, ignoring the way your body reacted to his touch. "You're lucky I got saddled with file room duty, asshole" you gritted out, pulling the picture from your back pocket and shoving it into his muscular chest.

Rafe wore a silver stud in his ear, a staple of his rockstar persona, and that little glimmer of reflected flash in that crime scene photo was that stud, which had fallen out during the murder.

Thankfully, it hadn't been logged into evidence and had been completely overlooked by the bumbling small town crime scene techs, so you only had to take the photo to keep that little piece of incriminating evidence from ever being discovered.

Rafe glanced down at the photo, his expression unchanging as he took it in. He looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You worried about me, babe?" He asked, his voice laced with mockery, but there was a harder edge to it that betrayed his unperturbed demeanor.

"No," you shot back, your brows furrowing in frustration. God, the heat was making you bitchy. "I'm worried about myself. I mean, I covered up your little fuck up perfectly. The last thing I need is for you and your lame ass jewlery to fuck me over."

Rafe's hand snaked out and wrapped around your throat, his grip tight but not painful. He backed you up against the brick wall, his eyes boring into yours. "You think I can't take care of my own shit?" He asked, his voice a low growl. His patience was clearly wearing thinner and thinner by the second. He was already agitated at being ripped away from band practice to do this little song and dance with the police. The last thing he needed was you bitching at him and challenging his capabilites.

"If you could take care of your own shit, you wouldn't have called me in the middle of the night panicking because you fucking killed someone," you retorted, not backing down. You weren't afraid of him in the slightest. You knew what he was capable of, but it didn't scare you. In fact, there was a twisted part of you that liked knowing about his violent side.

Rafe Cameron had been the one to kill Elliot Ryder in cold blood, and he'd called you up moments after because he knew your experience as a police intern would come in handy. You had rushed over and helped him stage the whole thing as a burglary gone wrong. Unfortunately, Rafe hadn't realized his little wardrobe malfunction until it was too late to go back and retrieve it.

His face darkened, his hand tightening around your throat. "I had it handled," he hissed. "Until you showed up and decided to play detective." His other hand reached down, gripping your hip possessively. "You're supposed to be on my side, not throwing my mistakes in my face."

"Then stop making dumb fucking mistakes," you spat, your jaw clenching in annoyance. You could feel your panties growing wetter by the second, which only fueled your frustration toward him. You hated how he could still make you want him even when he was being a complete asshole.

Rafe's face twisted with anger, but beneath it, you saw a flicker of something else—desire. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your lips. "You know, I should just shut you up for good," he muttered, his grip on your throat unyielding.

"Yeah?" You asked, your voice almost taunting. "You gonna kill me, Rafe?" You looked him in the eye, not backing down. "Who's gonna clean up your messes then, huh?"

His expression turned grim, and for a monent, you thought he might actually do it. But, then, without warning, he crushed his mouth to yours in a rough, bruising kiss. His hands tightened further on your hip, pressing against your body and pinning you in place.

He bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood. His tongue darted out, lapping up the blood and soothing the wound as his thumb rubbed over your pulse point, feeling the way your heartbeat quickened with desire. His mouth tasted of nicotine, stale beer, a slight hint of mint, and then the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue. If it were anyone else, you would've recoiled in disgust, but something about him was intoxicating.

He was so close you could feel his bulge pressing into you, and it only made you want him more. You didn't care that you were pressed against a wall in the back alley behind the police precinct, in fact, something about it, the potential thrill of getting caught, turned you on more.

Rafe's hands moved to grip your ass under your skirt, roughly palming the fatty flesh with his rough hands. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. "You drive me fucking crazy," he growled.

"Yeah, well you're fucking insufferable," you said breathlessly, tilting your head to the side and threading your fingers into his hair as he continued his assault on your neck.

He grunted in response, his hands squeezing your backside painfully before he pulled away to fumble with his belt, the buckle clanking loudly in the otherwise quiet alley.

As he fiddled with his belt, you took your opportunity to latch your lips onto his neck, the salty taste of his skin mixed with the thin layer of sweat coating him danced on your tongue as you sucked and nipped at the areas you knew would drive him wild.

Rafe's breathing hitched as you marked him, his body stiffening. He finally got his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, shoving them down just enough to free his hard length.

He gripped your thighs, hoisting you up and pressing you hard against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Think you need to learn your place," he said darkly, pulling your panties to the side.

With one swift movement, he thrust deep inside you, filling you completely. He held you pinned against the wall, his hips rolling into yours in deep, punishing thrusts. "You're supposed to worship the ground I walk on," he muttered, his voice ragged.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his powerful hips snapping back and forth as he pounded into you. His blue eyes, darkened with lust, locked onto yours, watching your face intently.

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. He slowed his pace, his hips rolling leisurely, his thick length stretching you wide. He knew his slow pace was like torture to you. "Tell me you worship me, baby."

"Fuck," you moaned, your face scrunching in a mix of pain and pleasure as the brick wall dug uncomfortably into your back. "I worship you, Rafe."

A smug grin spread across his face at your words, his pace quickening as he continued to slam into you, his hips rolling in that way that always hit that spot inside you, making you practically see stars. "Good girl," he praised, his lips finding yours again.

Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers curling into his hair and tugging slightly as his mouth swallowed your little whimpers and moans.

He released your mouth, his head tilting down to watch where you were joined. He let out a low groan, his body tensing as he watched himself disappear inside of you. "Look at you taking me so well," he gritted out, his pace quickening.

You gasped when you felt his thumb begin rubbing tight circles on your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. "Such a dirty fuckin' girl," he growled. "Letting me fuck you in an alleyway, behind a police station no less." His lewd words only served to heighten your arousal.

His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you dizzy as he continued to pound into you. "I'm going to fill this pretty little cunt with my cum," he snarled, his voice echoing off the brick walls.

His words paired with his grip on your throat and the way he was pounding into you sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you moaned his name.

His hand on your neck tightened possessively as you came apart for him, his own release following shortly after as he felt your walls squeeze down on him, milking his cock. He buried his face against your neck, his breathing hot and ragged against your skin. "That's my girl."

You panted, your head falling back against the brick as you caught your breath, your mind reeling as the weight of what you'd just done crashed over you. It was reckless and stupid to have let that happen, especially behind the police station you worked at. If anyone saw you, it could raise some serious red flags.

Rafe slowly lowered you back to the ground, pressing one last kiss to your swollen lips before tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling his jeans up, refastening his belt. He leaned against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette as he looked you over with a lazy smirk. "Try not to look so guilty."

"Don't be an asshole," you shot him a sharp look, fixing your skirt and blouse. Now, you had to go back to work and act as if you didn't have a murderer's cum leaking out of you.

Rafe took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a slow stream. He watched you intently, his eyes glinting with amusement as he observed you straighten your hair and adjust your collar, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "I'll pick you up after your shift. We've got a few more things to discuss."

"You can't pick me up here," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, pushing off from the wall and taking a few slow steps closer to you. "And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He knew very well why not, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"Don't play dumb, Rafe," you rolled your eyes. He could be so very infuriating when he wanted to be.

"Say it," he insisted, his voice firm. He took another step closer, towering over you. "Tell me why I can't pick you up here." His hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a deceptively gentle touch.

You huffed frustratedly, narrowing your eyes at his insistence. "Because you killed Elliot Ryder, and I'm your fucking accomplice," you relented.

Rafe's hand tightened, gripping your cheeks firmly, his touch bordering on painful as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh," he whispered, his voice dark and threatening. "You shouldn't go around saying things like that, baby."

You glared up at him, your annoyance evident in your gaze. Everything always had to be a game with him, and sometimes it utterly maddened you.

Rafe's lips curled into a smirk as he pulled back, his hand falling away from your face. "I'll pick you up around the corner," he said, as if the matter was settled. He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and heading down the alleyway to his car.

You watched him leave, your gaze burning holes into his back for a moment as he retreated before you shook your annoyance away, pulling the back door to the station open and heading back inside.

[bookinit02]

remember me (for centuries)

He doesn’t have time for this. It’s been twelve years, and he still doesn’t understand the inner components of the throughput multiplier. Yes, twelve years is a mere blink of an eye, in relation to the grander scope of his life, but—foolishly, Loki thought he would be a quicker study. OB said centuries, but Loki had, in the far back of his mind, expected minutes. He had expected greatness. He had expected to be exceptional.

He is decidedly not.

between centuries, loki figures out what he wants.

[clowningaroundmars]

Hobie1610 pt. 3

part 3 has finally arrived!!! at a faster rate than part 2 but a bit of a wait nonetheless lol

not entirely sure how long this lil story will go on for but hope y'all are enjoying this ride regardless, whether it ends on the next part or in 3 more chapters ldfjkdhf

in this installment: thrilling action, a high stakes chase, and we get to learn more abt our beloved hobie jones! yippee!

>pt. 1 here<

>pt. 2 here<

♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

By some miracle, Hobie did not mention the suit to Miles once they started texting semi-regularly.

Unfortunately, they also couldn't really make their lunch date (date? God, get it together, Morales. It is not a date…) as soon as Miles would have liked, due to a million different things getting in the way of them setting a solid day aside to chill together.

Just his luck, of course.

But in the hallways, Hobie actually deigned to give Miles a passing smile every now and then. They didn’t ever get to hang out like they did for those precious few moments on the first day of school, but Miles didn’t feel the crushing weight of guilt every time he saw Hobie in his same classroom anymore. What a relief!

So Miles was mostly okay with how things were going anyhow, even if the hangout ended up falling through and they both decided not to go in the end. He was able to patrol and do his homework in blissful peace for the first time in months.

… Kind of.

That look on Hobie’s handsome face as he looked down past Miles’ coat collar though…

That still ate away at an anxious part of Miles’ brain whenever he had the time to sit down and really let his worries manifest.

No time to think about that now, though. Miles was suited up again on a school night, hoping to get at least an hour’s worth of patrolling in before security at Visions noticed he was absent from his dorm room. He hoped Ganke would be able to cover for him like he always did.

It was yet another cold evening out in New York City, and Miles was steadily covering the edges of Brooklyn, heading towards Manhattan to do a quick sweep through Central Park like he did on occasion. There was always something going on in Manhattan, especially during the evening.

Miles decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek before calling it a night and heading back to Visions.

So away he went-- now fully in his Spiderman element-- vaulting and soaring over buildings, showing off every now and then by doing silly flips and tricks mid-air for the opportunistic New Yorkers looking to snap their Spiderman Sighting of the day. A little social media promo never hurt anyone, after all…

Spiderman finally swung down onto a tree branch on the western side of the park from a street lamp and was just about to lower himself down as inconspicuously as he could, before immediately feeling the tingling electricity of his Spider Senses race up and down his spine, giving him the usual headache along with it.

He crouched down quietly on a branch and watched as a familiar lanky figure streaked across the path underneath him onto the grass and beyond.

Whoever this runner was, he was fast. And hot on his trail was a gang of burly bumbling assholes cursing up a blue streak as they gave chase.

Spiderman’s eyes stayed glued to the fast runner like they were a lifeline. His senses honed in on the person and he erupted out of the leaves of the tree with one mighty leap, sailing through the air to shoot a web out and swing his way on over to the excitement.

Several joggers, people walking dogs after work, and mothers with baby carriages exclaimed and shouted as they were barreled into by the gang of men trying to keep up with their moving target. The runner didn’t seem to be giving up, though, as their long legs sent them flying over bushes and rocks and lounging people as gracefully as a ribbon in the air.

It was indeed getting dark soon again, but the darkness didn’t really affect Spiderman’s senses at all. His mask helped him fine-tune his powerful vision and anticipate the runner’s next moves.

It looked as though they were trying to make their way up towards the Great Lawn from Cedar Hill, but whether the person was planning to make a break for the now-empty Delacorte Theatre or the Metropolitan Museum Of Art… or beyond? That was the million dollar question.

Spiderman didn’t want to lose the person in case they happened to just be a petty thief, since that would be a quick and easy problem to fix. But as he silently chased down the runner alongside (and unbeknownst) to the gang, his suspicions gave way to some other... ideas.

Namely, that the runner seemed young, a bit too young for someone to be pissing off this many fully-grown gang members.

He pushed through his confusion and made a break for the theatre the second he guessed that the runner was pivoting in that direction.

The trees were getting thicker the closer they got to the Belvedere Castle and Spiderman eventually resorted himself to hoofing it, mindful of sticking to the shadows of the foliage that surrounded them on all sides.

He was super grateful now more than ever that his suit happened to be his signature sleek black and red, rather than the tacky and hyper-visible reds and blues of many of his Spider counterparts (sorry Peter!)

Once he confirmed that the suspicious target was indeed planning on hiding in the bleachers of the massive amphitheatre, he shot up a web to hoist himself into the infrastructure from the tall stadium lights. From there, he positioned himself a bit closer to the fray, hearing the loud and heavy boots of the gang following the runner, not far behind.

Then, he squinted into the dusk as he watched one of the entrances from his perch up high... and almost choked on his own saliva!

In comes none other than Hobie Motherfucking Jones, streaking down several steps like a shooting star, clutching onto… something tucked under one of his arms. He was breathless, panting loudly, and heading straight for the Belvedere Lake.

Upon hearing the heavy bootfalls get ever closer with every passing second, it seemed that Hobie got the idea to attempt a last-minute juke by throwing himself underneath the stairs that faced the lake, tucking himself as tightly as he could under the massive stage at the center.

Spiderman watched all of this happening with wide eyes, holding his own breath in. He prayed that the ugly thugs didn’t see Hobie’s sneaky last-second move, but climbed up high onto the stadium lights and prepared to swing down anyhow, just in case.

What was Hobie even doing here, out at this hour? And what the hell did he manage to steal that was so important to these men anyways? It was quite a chase they were caught up in, running nearly two entire miles all the way up to the amphitheatre just to catch him, and that was only from what he could see when he swung into action.

The group split up and pulled out flashlights, determinedly searching the bleachers and corners as best they could while the sky rapidly darkened above them.

From right below the webbed crime-fighter, Hobie poked his head out from the shadows and took a peek.

No, no, duck back down! Spiderman wanted to shout, but he couldn’t.

No one knew he had followed them and he was safe high above the action where he balanced himself on the metal bars that housed the bulbs. His muscles tensed as the bright beam of light from one guy’s flashlight swept a little too close to Hobie’s head. Damnit.

Spiderman couldn’t just sit there all day! He had a friend to save, stolen item be damned!

He rechecked his web shooters furtively and took aim.

He set his sights on another stadium light pole across from the stage, figuring that if he was quick and agile enough, he could time his swing well enough to scoop Hobie up from where he was hidden and avoid any detection. Hopefully.

Seemed like a solid enough plan though, until Hobie just. Shot out from his hiding place all of a sudden, the heels of his boots rapping loudly against the cement and echoing all around the stage as he made a beeline for the lakefront.

Shit!!!

Miles wanted to kill him. Those guys didn’t even suspect he was hiding where we was in the first place!

... Okay, plan B!

Spiderman’s brain whirred at breakneck speeds as he watched the thugs exclaim loudly and give chase yet again, this time much closer to Hobie than they ever were before.

Without thinking, he swung down from his perch and bowled over a couple of men in his haste to simply just… grab Hobie like a damsel in distress and fireman-carry him back around the gang to get a good line of web onto a nearby pole.

The men all cursed and shouted in surprise of course, flashlight beams waving around everywhere.

One of them even yelled, “what the hell was that?!” like a character in one of his dad’s favorite cheesy slasher movies.

Spiderman was too fast for them, a black blur simply whizzing by as he grabbed Hobie and hoisted the both of them up into the air with a mighty leap. Hobie yelped in surprise, grunting from the effort, and seemed to let whatever he stole slip out of his hands which then clattered loudly onto the ground below.

The thugs rejoiced then, shaking fists at Hobie and his rescuer as they flew up to the top of a tree and detached themselves so they could fall onto the stadium light opposite from Spiderman’s initial hiding spot.

Spiderman didn’t stop until he attached another web up to the lights and dangled there for a bit. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins as he shifted Hobie off of his shoulders and let him slide slowly onto his side, his friend’s wiry arms clutching him tightly.

They both watched with rapt attention at the goings-on several feet below them.

The thugs congregated around the fallen item, picking it up and turning it this way and that. It looked like a briefcase, though with the low lighting it really could’ve been anything. It was only when one of them-- the biggest and burliest of them all-- shouted out another colorful swear word that Hobie then seemed to come back to himself again.

He squeezed Spiderman’s shoulders with his arms and kicked at him. They swung a bit from the wiggling.

“Ouch!” Spiderman hissed, as quietly as he could. He was hoping the dark dusk would conceal their position now as long as they made No Noises, but even that wasn’t guaranteed.

“Go, go, go, go, man! Let’s get out of here!!” Hobie hissed right back into his ear, his face mere centimeters away from Spiderman’s mask.

Spiderman stubbornly ignored the heat radiating out from his face at that realization and jerked this way and that, looking for an easy escape from their conundrum.

Flashlight beams danced around the ground before finally swinging up to the trees and catching sight of a pair of shoes dangling in the sky.

The biggest and meanest one of the bunch pulled something out of his pocket and took aim.

Bullet! Spiderman’s senses screamed into his cerebellum.

“Goddamn,” he huffed ruefully as the shots rang out. Hobie panicked. “Bullets for us? That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

Hobie clung onto his hero for dear life. “Brother, if you do not get a move on from here, we are both gonna get turned into fish filets!” He shouted into Spiderman’s ear.

“Ow. Okay,” Spiderman grumbled, sticking himself to the side of the pole they dangled from and readjusting Hobie so that he clung onto his back instead.

He took a deep breath and narrowly dodged a bullet that whizzed unnervingly close to their heads. Hobie yelled again.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Spiderman began, speaking quickly. “Hold on, okay? Hold on tight. Just hold on and do not let me go for even a second!”

“On it!” Hobie shouted back, legs kicking a bit before wrapping themselves tightly around Spiderman’s torso.

They both took a breath and then Spiderman jumped, gaining some air before twin webs erupted from his web shooters-- aimed directly towards the seating area entrance.

Together, he and Hobie rocketed from their airborne position towards their escape route once the fluids connected to solid architecture. To his credit, Hobie only whimpered a little bit through the ride.

The thugs had no chance! They stumbled on tired, aching legs towards the very door the two teens had left out of, complaining and cursing some more as they searched through the steps and made their way out onto the theatre’s general admission and concessions area.

They searched and searched through the bushes and trees, going so far as to even check the sculptures near the structure.

After several tense moments of gruff shouting back-and-forth, the search eventually died down until only a couple of the men were left sweeping the area once more. The others had already given up their fruitless endeavor and called it a night.

“Fucking kids, man. What the hell,” Spiderman heard one of them grumble before kicking at the Romeo and Juliet statue angrily and following the rest of his cohorts down the path towards the Great Lawn again.

Hobie and Spiderman let out matching sighs of relief then, happy to have given the men the slip by managing to hide behind the giant 3D Delacorte Theatre sign right above the box offices. Lucky for them, most people don’t think to search behind lit-up signs, so they went completely undetected.

“… Wanna let me know what you were doing here this whole time? You could’ve gotten killed!” Spiderman breathed. He wanted his tone to be sharper, more authoritative… but he was just so glad to see his new friend still in one piece instead of riddled with more holes than a chunk of swiss cheese!

Hobie scoffed, tucking a loc behind his ear and sitting back. Thanks to the lighting of the sign and the other park lights in the area, Spiderman could see him digging around in his coat pocket and fishing out-- a USB drive?

Hobie held it up triumphantly, sleepy down-turned eyes glistening with pride.

“I got it! Suckers! Screw them by the way, I’m not the thief, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

Well. He was sneaky, alright. Spiderman had to hand that to him, at the very least.

He sat back on his heels as well and exhaled. “Fine. I believe you. What’s on that drive?”

Hobie squinted at him then, really giving him a good once-over now that the excitement had officially died down. “…Damn. You’re Spiderman,”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, hi, nice to meet you, I’m your friendly neighborhood Sp-- ugh, seriously man, just tell me what all of that was back there or else I’m webbing you up and calling the cops.”

“Hey!” Hobie objected. “Like I said already, I’m the good guy here. I snagged this from those guys because I caught them snoopin’ around the museum over that way. I followed them and found out they were stealing this!”

Spiderman bobbed his head. “Okay? And what’s on it?”

Hobie turned the drive over a bit in his hands, admiring it. “Most likely? Security codes, schedules, maps. I’ve been uh… investigating those dudes for a while after watching them sniff around the museum for a few days now. It looks like they were just art thieves plannin' a heist, so I jumped on the opportunity to deliver justice myself.”

Hobie’s mischievous grin was met by Spiderman’s disapproving stare.

“And why didn’t you just call security and let them know? Like I said, super dangerous thing you did back there! If I wasn’t there to save you, you could’ve died, man.”

Hobie pocketed his USB drive again and rolled his eyes. “Y’know, for a vigilante hero with cool superpowers, you sure are a square.”

Spiderman sat up and placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt. “Oof, ow. That’s mean,”

“Yeah, it is, but you know I’m right. If a kid like me walked up to some cops and tried to warn them of a possible art heist, you just know those pricks’ll laugh in my face and do literally nothing about it. I had to take matters into my own hands!” Hobie jutted his chin out defiantly.

Well. Couldn't really argue with that, especially considering PDNY’s less-than-stellar track record of taking preventative measures most times. All that they would most likely do is nod along to whatever Hobie was telling them and chuckle, shaking their heads as they walk away. Not their problem.

Spiderman rubbed his chin. “Point taken," he conceded. "So what’s your plan now?”

Hobie glanced around, as if he was checking for any eavesdroppers. “I’m gonna submit some photos to a journalist I met online before turning this in back to the museum. The journalist’ll help get those guys behind bars once a story's published and some actual adults talk to the cops. I am going to go collect my reward,”

Spiderman blinked. He had a bunch of questions swimming in his head, but the first question out of his mouth was, “what reward?”

“The reward for turning in precious security info, genius!” Hobie tapped at his forehead with a finger and grinned. “If I get to negotiate with them, I can get some money to save up and-- uh. Nevermind. Listen, are you gonna rat me out or not?”

Miles’ brow creased behind his mask. “… I don’t think I will. Sounds like you’re doing the right thing… mostly.”

Hobie cheered silently. “Yes! Okay, I take it back, Spidey. You are cool!”

Spiderman sighed. “But first, I need to know you’re gonna be safe. Like, actually, and that you’re not gonna get followed home.”

Hobie shrugged nonchalantly and pushed more locs out of his face again. “Yeah, you can walk me home if you want,”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, that’s not the only thing I mean. I need you to promise me that you’re not gonna get into stupid stunts like this again. That was so dangerous and you really could’ve gotten hurt!”

Hobie exhaled as well. He stared intensely into the mask’s giant white lenses for a beat, making Spiderman shift uncomfortably.

Then, he held up his pinkie. “… Fine. I won’t do stupid shit like this again. I promise.”

Spiderman blinked a few more times and hooked his pinkie onto Hobie’s. “Uh. Okay, cool! Cool, that’s what I wanna hear, considering keeping New Yorkers safe is my job! I just wanna see you safe, that’s all. No more art heists, you gotta leave that to the professionals to handle,”

“What, professionals like you? You might’ve not even gotten to them in time before they snuck off with like millions of dollars worth of art, bro.”

“Anyone ever tell you you are just so mean? Dontcha have a little faith in me? The ‘vigilante hero with cool superpowers’?” Spiderman shot back.

They both laughed.

“Seriously, though. I do appreciate the fact that you saved my ass back there,” Hobie admitted, eyes cast downwards for a second. “I was actually gonna throw this thing into the lake and hope this drive got eaten by like… a fish or something.”

“And what about you?” Spiderman smiled despite himself.

“Well,” Hobie shrugged. “If I died, I died. I guess,”

It was Spiderman’s turn to scoff now. “You have a family, man. Don’t be ridiculous. You have friends and family that would miss you!”

Hobie’s expression turned dark, his entire face shadowing for a second before being replaced by cool detached nonchalance. A slight hint of annoyance stayed put underneath.

“… My family’s barely my family. I don’t have any friends, either. Don't worry about me.” Hobie admitted in a clipped tone. He stood up abruptly and started doing some casual stretches.

Spiderman stood up as well, knowing fully well how this song and dance was going to go.

He would never admit it out loud, but he’d seen his fair share of self-destructive citizens throwing themselves into the middle of danger in the short time he’d been doing this whole vigilante thing. He had talked many a melancholy or manic person from tossing themselves off of multiple different buildings, different bridges, stopped them from “falling” onto train tracks.

And as loath as he is to admit it, this Hobie’s particular brand of cool detachment was entirely too familiar to him as well.

A flash of his uncle Aaron’s face lit up a part of his brain that he hadn’t really allowed himself to acknowledge since that fateful day. He quickly stamped that out.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck. “… Well. That sounds pretty depressing, man.”

He didn’t notice Hobie’s shoulders hitch at that phrase.

“But,” Spiderman continued, “You got people out here who care about you, even if you don’t know it. You’re still so young, you could be ending your life before you even meet, like, your favoritest person in the whole world, right? So just do me a quick favor, take care of yourself. For me. Live long enough to meet your favorite person, alright?”

Spiderman put on his best comforting expression that he could despite the mask most likely getting in the way of Hobie fully seeing it. He hoped his words were enough to convince him not to dive off the deep end, at least not anytime soon.

It seemed to work at least a little bit, because Hobie looked back at him with a much warmer-- albeit hesitant-- expression.

“Can I ask you something?” Hobie finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Uh, sure.” Spiderman replied.

“Do you know about a kid named Miles Morales at all?”

The air was sucked out of Spiderman’s lungs right then as he floundered like a fish for a minute, brain working into overdrive to make his answer sound both intelligent and convincing.

“U-uh, maaaybeee? I dunno, I meet a lot of New Yorkers everyday and I don’t get many names, yanno? S-sounds familiar, but sorr--”

“I knew it,” Hobie exhaled a laugh and surged forward to embrace Spiderman with both arms.

Spiderman stood frozen in his place, arms held in mid-air as he worked to process this.

“Uh. What--”

Spiderman felt Hobie’s chin dig into the side of his cheek a little as he turned his lips to his ear. “Your secret’s safe with me, by the way. I’m not telling anyone,”

Miles felt his whole world turn on its axis before shattering completely.

Oh no, no, no, no, no! Goddamnit!

Miles pushed Hobie off and stepped back, holding his hands up. “Oh hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. I dunno what you’re thinking or who you think I am, but--!”

Hobie sighed loudly. “Miles, I saw your suit.”

The world screeched to a halt.

Hobie picked his gaze back up off of his feet and even seemed apologetic, almost. “I, uhm. Like, back on the roof. At Visions. I wasn’t… a hundred percent sure I saw it, since it could’ve been any logo at all, but. Well, you’re a pretty bad liar too, y’know that, right?”

Miles sucked in a slightly shaky breath, gulping loudly. “Uh. W-well,”

Hobie smiled shyly. “You, uh… you’re like around the same height as Miles Morales, anyways. And you sure sound a lot like him, too.”

Damn. Damn it all.

Miles spun this way and that, placing his hands atop his head as he panicked slightly. “H-Hobie, you cannot tell anyone else about this, whatsoever. Do you understand? No one. At all. Or we’re both dead!”

Hobie held his hands up, lines creasing in his face. “Look bro, you’ve got secrets of mine too. We pinkie promised, remember? I don’t break promises.”

Miles didn’t point out that the promise was so that Hobie would stop getting himself into stupidly dangerous situations, but he accepted it anyways, albeit reluctantly.

“D-do… do you actually, like actually promise me you’ll never breathe a word about this to anyone? Ever? At all?”

Hobie held up his right hand into the air, as if taking an oath. “I, MJ, solemnly swear to never breathe a single word to anyone about your super secret identity, so help me god.”

Miles planted his fists on his hip and shook his head. “Oh my god,” he exhales on a shaky laugh.

“Don’t you believe me? What would I have to gain by selling you out? Oh,” Hobie stops suddenly, perking up. “We could even work together! I got me my sweet camera and my extensive connects, man. Think about it!”

“No, no. Hobie. Stop that, man. I’m not putting you into any danger after I just saved your skinny butt. Spiderman doesn’t do sidekicks anyways,”

Hobie looked a bit put out, but shrugged anyways. “Well, I mean… think about it sometime. We could seriously take down criminal activity around here, if you’re down! And, uh. You do have my number,”

Miles looked up and took a deep breath. “Mmnyes, I do. I do have your number. That’s… I mean you’re not wrong about that. Listen, I think it’s getting pretty late and we should both be heading back home now, though.”

The corners of Hobie’s mouth curled up mischievously. “True, true. It is a school night, after all.”

Miles couldn’t stop grinning despite the heavy anvil that threatened to burst out of his chest. “Yep, yes it is! Okay, time to get you home now. C’mon, let’s go.”

Miles moved to step into Hobie’s space and carry him on his back again so he could lower the both of them down from the lip of the theatre roof.

But before that happened, he felt Hobie place a cold but strong hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Miles looked up inquisitively and felt his breath catch in his throat as he felt those same hands slowly slide up the smooth spandex of his suit, up his shoulders, and then they stopped at his neck, at the seam of where his suit and mask met.

The entire thing probably only took a few seconds to do, but to Miles it felt like eons passed as he felt every single muscle twitch and the pulse beating underneath Hobie’s skin while he ran those fingers up his arms.

He was standing so close to him! Oh god!

The entire ordeal was unbearably intimate, and Miles could barely stop the shudder that wracked his body suddenly.

Hobie’s soft lips were slightly parted, the lighting of the sign next to them caught in the dark brown portals that were his eyes.

“U-uhm. Sorry, this is weird...” he mumbled quietly. But his hands didn't move.

All around them, crickets started their soothing chorus.

Here they were, right behind the giant lettering of the Delacorte Theatre, intertwined in each other’s arms on a cold night-- and Miles’ core body temperature has never felt hotter before. He felt like he could melt steel, the way this night was going. He didn’t know when his hands raised to grasp onto Hobie’s arms, but they must’ve done it of their own accord because Miles then felt himself squeezing softly onto Hobie’s biceps.

Slowly, painstakingly, and carefully… Hobie made his move.

Every centimeter of the mask being pushed up was accompanied by a soft look that asked-- no, it begged-- for permission to continue. His hands seemed to move on their own eventually, as he slid the mask up over the back of Miles' head and then eased it up off of his nose.

Hobie wore a soft look of determination then, that fully came into view again once Miles felt his mask slide right up off of his eyes. Hobie’s soft hands eventually fell away, mask in one hand, no sounds in the air except for the wildlife of the park starting to wake now that the night has officially fallen.

Miles wasn’t sure why he did, but he held his breath.

After a few seconds of appraising gazes from each other, pupils meeting pupils, exchanging a million words a second with just a few looks… Hobie grinned beautifully.

“Damn. There you are,”

Miles felt a plume of heat erupt from his gut and rush up to his face. “Uh. Hm, y-yep. Here I am,” he blinked back at Hobie with his big brown eyes.

Hobie had a look of pure joy on his face before it started to melt away suddenly. “You know… I should backstab you for abandoning me out of nowhere that one time, though… I really should...”

The moment collapsed like an undone web, a delicate thing now completely destroyed as Miles leaped up in indignation.

“Hobie!”

Hobie stepped back and laughed loudly. “Re-lax! I’m not gonna actually do it. But. Y’know.”

“And if you do, I’ll leave you webbed up to that billboard near Visions,” Miles threatened, mostly light-heartedly.

“Psshh, and then get my mom’s two million lawyers on your ass? Good luck,”

“As if they could ever catch me! I’m Spiderman!”

Just as easily as they had stepped out of being just kids for a moment, they stepped right back into it, bickering like they'd been friends since forever.

Miles lowered the both of them from the sign and they headed towards the eastern side of the park, making their way over to Hunter’s Gate. They bickered and bantered back and forth the entire way there, and it was only once they made it to the outer gates of the park that Miles stopped them both.

With his mask back on and other New Yorkers now milling nearby, Miles made it a point to lower his voice as he turned to Hobie and puffed his chest out heroically.

“So, random citizen. Where are we off to today? I told you I’d take you back home safely, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“’Cause you promised, right?” Hobie smirked, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.

“Uhm. Yeah, yeah. I did. So, lead the way!” Spiderman made a grand ushering gesture, and Hobie chuckled good-naturedly as he stepped aside and exited Central Park.

“You gonna walk me home, Spiderman?” Hobie threw him a side-long glance.

“Yyyeah…? Why? You’d rather swing home?”

“I liked swinging, actually. Yeah,” Hobie stopped where he was on the sidewalk and nodded with an air of finality. “Yeah… let’s swing!”

Spiderman felt his heart do a few somersaults in his chest before he gestured towards his shoulders. Hobie quickly assumed the position, long lanky arms wrapping around him and leaning his body weight against Spiderman’s side.

Spiderman shot up a web to a nearby street lamp and gave his friend one more glance.

“You sure?” He asked again, really making sure that Hobie was okay with this. Not many people really liked swinging, which was understandable. Even Miles wasn't the biggest fan of it at times.

Hobie chuckled and ignored the onlookers as they slowly ambled past the two, throwing the teens questioning glances as they made their way past them.

“Yeah, I am! Let’s go,”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Miles: Do you actually actually really like on your LIFE promise that you’re not ginna tell a soul about… well…

Miles: gonna*

MJ: Yes, Miles. I PROMISE [eyeroll emoji]

Miles: I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE

MJ: Do you actually, though? ;)

Miles: No. But I can find out… I got connects

MJ: Uh huh. I’ll tell your “connects” that if you don’t take me out on that promised lunch date, our friendly neighborhood Spiderman just might be the next trending topic on ALL social media apps again very soon……..

Miles: Oh my god. You are Evil. I can’t believe this. My next arch nemesis… damn

Miles: What a killer plot twist. The greatest foe I have yet to face happens to be none other than one of my very own classmates

Miles: It be ya own people

From his family’s Lower Manhattan penthouse, Hobie laughs out loud as he reads the text messages, ignoring all of the curious glances thrown his way by various members of his team.

From Miles’ own humble dorm room at Visions, he laughs aloud as well.

[bbyboytommy]

Here's a little ficlet I thought of while rewatching the interaction at the helicopter hanger. This is an established Buddie!

Eddie sighs as he drops his keys in the dish by the door and kicks off his boots. "Buck? Where are you?"

There's no answer, but he can hear movement in the bedroom, so he heads there. Chris was spending the night at a friend's house, so the movement had to be Buck.

When he reaches the doorframe he sees Buck, lying facing the wall and curled in on himself a bit. Eddie frowns as he knocks on the doorframe to announce his presence, but Buck doesn't even budge.

He can tell by his breathing that the other man isn't asleep, so he makes his way over to the bed, sitting carefully on the edge near Buck's knees. "Come on Buck, please talk to me."

He sighs when there's still no response. From this angle he can see Buck staring blankly at the wall with a frown in place.

"Buck, remember what we talked about with communication? Neither of us can fix anything if we don't talk about what's bothering us."

Eddie feels a little relief course through him when this gets the other man to sit up and face him, but it's short lived since Buck's face is still obviously distressed.

"Are you gonna leave the 118?"

The question hits Eddie like a truck. He'd known Buck was upset with him, but he wasn't expecting anything like this.

He leans forward, carefully putting a hand on Buck's thigh. The relief he feels when he doesn't flinch at all is quickly drowned out by concern about what was going through Buck's head this whole time.

"Dios, baby no. Why would you think that?"

Buck looks down at his hands in his lap as he starts speaking quickly. "Just- You've been spending so much time with Tommy, and I know you were in and out of helicopters a lot in the Army- I guess I just though you might miss it and want to transfer over there."

Eddie sighs, moving to cradle his face in his hands, making Buck look at him. "I'm not going anywhere baby. I like hanging out with Tommy, but I love you and I love the 118. I wouldn't trade that for anything."

Buck bites his lip and looks down despite not being able to move his head. "Are you sure? I can deal with it if you do want to transfer. I don't like it, but you should be happy too."

Eddie frowns. "Buck, listen to me." He pauses until blue eyes meet his once again. "I am happy where I am, with you. I don't need anything else as long as I have you and Christopher, okay?"

Buck finally gives him a wobbly smile. "Well that's good, because all I need is you and Christopher too."

Eddie smiles widely and leans forward, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. He presses their foreheads together, their breath ghosting across the other's lips. "I love you, Evan."

Buck finally smiles that big smile that Eddie fell in love with, and he returns it with a softer one. "I love you too, Edmundo."

( @librarianafterdark I hope you enjoy this! If anyone else would like to be tagged in 9-1-1 ficlets, just let me know <3)

[palabraasinnecesarias]

if you stay i would even wait all night or until my heart explodes

ao3 | ff.net | ship: ranma/akane | rating: T+ | words: 4,361

summary:

If there was anything Akane knew better than anyone in this world, it would have to be that Ranma’s insensitivity wasn’t on purpose. And it wasn’t that she wanted to justify the fool, she just felt that she had a better judgment when it came to pinpointing all his flaws, especially the ones that made him a jerk. Crushing on your childhood friend should be fine, as long as you don't act upon it, right? What happens when you do?

“Stupid,” Ryoga groaned, slamming a fist against his kotatsu table, a mild glare towards Ranma. The bandana wearing man was fuming, noticeably upset across his friend, who seemingly appeared as though he was going to be sick. “Now,” he continued, gently rubbing his temple in a sense to try and sooth an upcoming headache, “what did you ask her again? If what...?”   

Ranma rolled his eyes, annoyed, and frustrated, too, looking away as he shrugged his shoulders, “I just asked how many guys she’s stringing along.” Saying it out loud stung his chest, knowing very well he’d fucked up, immensely. Because he knew Akane like the back of his hand, if anything, she was doing anything but. He was just caught up in his own emotions, upset and hot-headed...jealous, if you will.   

After Akane had kicked him out, he had knocked on her bathroom door for a moment, insisting that they talk as he tried to apologize, but she just kept shouting things at him and ultimately, he allowed her some space. He had dragged his feet out of her apartment, away from the homely hold she'd enveloped him in and straight to Ryoga’s.   

He hadn’t told him everything; that they had kissed, yes, twice, in a matter of fact. In his bedroom, and then in her apartment. But he wasn’t so loose with the details of how much she had craved her, and wanted to devour her once he actually took her in his arms. And how worse he felt in actuality, for suggesting such a ludicrous thing.   

Ryoga had been quick to exclaim his congratulations, assuming they were an item, until Ranma shattered his dreams by telling him just how bad he’d shoved his foot down his throat in his idiotic moment of insecurity.   

Within seconds, Ryoga’s gleeful smile diminish into an exasperated sigh, urging to smack the back of his head frenzy in a way to try and rattle any sort of common sense into him.   

“You’ve got to apologize, like now .”  

continue reading in my ao3 or ff.net account

[jamiethebee]

Fully caught up on the manga (minus spoilers for the last chapter) and..... Ya know what maybe I am a villain stan because I just.... Don't trust that anything really changes in society. Everyone outside of heroes, when given speaking parts, seems to indicate that they'll step in or do something in order to protect themselves - not out of any sense of responsibility or community, but to safeguard their lives in case the other person ends up a villain. Or maybe I'm just pessimistic? But we've seen irl time and again that this ending attitude doesn't work. Doesn't have change. Certainly not long lasting change. I really really wanted to finish the series still liking Deku but throughout the fight, every cut back to someone other than Deku, talking about his heart and how good he was and how much he was doing to fight for the person - and the cut back is just "punch". He never responded to Shigaraki's words. He never engaged with the man himself. And at the end of the day, I feel more trust in Uraraka. More trust that she'll actually work on saving people's hearts. And she's back in construction work like her parents. And of course the camera dies and no one sees Toga's heart. Because how dare anyone think a villain could be a person (paraphrased that one interview guy).

I really really wanted to end this manga happy with it. I'm not stupid enough to conflate the reality of the story with fandom. I'm not. I really wanted to enjoy it for what it is. But when they directly ask "how do we fix villains being made" the answer is "you don't. We can't" and ???? That's supposed to be what the manga was working towards this whole time? I - .....

[miscellaneoussmp]

I am nothing but an enjoyer of soft family dynamics. Here's Foolish and Roier helping each other out:

Roier feels aimless, really. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but he's always able to push it to the back of his mind and keep it hidden until those nights where his husband doesn't come home. He wakes up to a tear stained pillow after those nights. He usually thinks of it as some kind of curse, his burden to bear. It's always been present feeling. Maybe there's some awful type of comfort in it. If there is, Roier can't find it. He's supposed to be the happy one, the one who fixes everyone else's issues. He can't bring himself to smile, even as a pale imitation of the real thing. It's quiet. He's never been a fan of the quiet. He always tries to fill it up so he can pretend it fills the void in his chest and the pit in his stomach.

Roier's eyeliner has been smudged for three days now. He hasn't brushed his hair or washed his skin in the same amount of time. His hoodie is just as dirty, same for the rest of his clothes. Maybe if he lays himself bare, something good will happen. Maybe if he just smiles and pretends it doesn't hurt and hopes that nobody notices the blank look in his eyes, It'll all be okay again. Roier sits on an empty patch of grass near one of the paths. He doesn't even know where he is, and he can't bring himself to really care. He's crying again. Out in the open. He's sure his eyeliner is running. He knows he looks awful. A whine dies in his throat as he sobs. Roier hears somebody walk up behind him and then sit next to him, though he isn't sure who it is yet.

It's Foolish. He asks if Roier needs a hug. Roier does, but he can't say it. He can't put his weight onto another person, especially when that person is probably grieving his daughter. He bets Foolish can see his hesitancy and pulls him anyway. Roier starts sobbing harder as he's held by Foolish, held by his dad. He's never had the best father-son relationship with Foolish, but hearing him mutter how he's glad he has one kid who's safe makes his heart melt or hurt, he can't tell which. He looks up at his dad, and there's a hand wiping away his tears. Roier feels so small, and he isn't sure if it's because of how big Foolish is compared to him or how big his feelings are.

Next thing Roier realizes is that he's being led to Foolish's base. Once they're there, he's handed a plush towel. He's being strongly encouraged to take a shower, which is fair enough. It feels good to remove three days' worth of sweat and tears, and God knows what else. He's lucky to have a spare shirt and sweatpants in his backpack. Once he's out of the shower, he finds Foolish making food, specifically peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Roier laughs, Foolish looks up to see him with a clean face and jokes about how hard it is to have an emo son. Roier rolls his eyes and sits down anyway.

When Foolish sits across from him, with the food, Roier asks why he's doing all of this. There's a flash of something sad in Foolish's eyes before he explains that he'd rather know that one of his children is okay than wonder if both are okay. Roier feels tears well up in his eyes again, and he calls Foolish an asshole for doing that. The taller just laughs again before telling him to eat. Roier spends the night at Foolish's. He warns his husband about it, though he doubts the other will go home tonight.

When Roier wakes up, he feels rested for the first time in a while. It doesn't feel like as much of a struggle to get up. He still feels the void in his heart and pit in stomach but they take a backseat for a moment. It's a nice moment.

[boxwinebaddie]

hi uncle nina! sorry if this is kinda overbearing, but you havent posted anything today so i just wanna check in and make sure youre doing okay! <3

oh my god, sweetheart!!! this is not overbearing AT ALL! this is extremely thoughtful and makes me feel extremely validated. <3

i'm sorry for causing concern, but ty for being concerned about me.

because the school year is coming to a close, things around me at work have been pretty intense, so i've been tossed around like a ragdoll the past week and haven't had much time to write as a result. i also haven't been sleeping very well and rush a lot in the mornings, so i've forgotten to take my mood stabilizer the past couple of days which makes me v sluggish, zombie-ish and unpleasant in general. :/

...when i am like that, as a weird way of sparing you, i suppose, i try not to post on here too much because it feels quite shitty indeed for you to get a notification for my blog just to watch me bitch n moan.

however, i have taken my medication today and feel bad for fumbling kyle week...as we know i'm not really good at holding myself accountable or making deadlines. oddly enough, it's not that i don't want to answer my questions, it's just that other than not being able to really find the time recently, i just can't find the right...words?

( this ask is long and irrelevant, but read if you wish. ilysm. )

or, rather, i don't feel knowledgeable enough the subjects to answer? specifically in the areas of my tsot/tfbw styles and ncuniverses, i feel a little insecure because i don't know sp or the games as well as many other people do, so i'm trying to speed watch episodes/watch speed runs of the games online so i can at least keep some canon intact?

i also am finding that creating and understanding how high fantasy universes work is...difficult? lmao? also because i did crazy stuff with mutations and science and politics in my tfbw ncuniverse, that's also complicated and out of my wheelhouse...tldr: i have big ideas, but i'm not very good at backing them in fact or doing analytical stuff.

but...iiiiii need to, lmao. mental illness, but if i make a universe it has to be fully realized, it has to all make as much sense as possible, echo the canon, enhance it, feel real and be fluid...so if i'm not around too much it's because i'm trying to bolster myself with my sp knowledge ( ik, i'm a fake fan ) and watch/read/research high fantasy concepts and superhero/scientific fiction/dystopian stuff...so if anyone has any recommendations for me to watch or learn from in those realms, i'd appreciate it. again, this is intense...but i care a lot about my craft.

and specifically crafting something worthy of all of you, that makes sense, lives and breathes, reflects the show we love & is interesting.

ANYWAYS!!!! with that said, i got a cool ask about whether or not i have a gunslinger kyle? which? not yet? BUT YOU'RE A GENIUS BABY I AM SOOOOO ON IT!!! please let me cook and watch some things because actually, oh my god, i am very down. i'll update you. i might make a board to gather ideas, omg, omg, it'll be SPICY.

i got an ask about princess kylie, which, bless you, i am also still developing her character, i am going to pour over the books, watch some GOT, do some mapping out, watch some intricate dnd play throughs...and have some answers for you very soon: hang on, baby.

( she's little, bitchy, prissy and does need to be babysat, i'm afraid. )

got some on jersey i'm excited about! sorry for writing that ask meme about the sour skittles like that, again, writing has been trying for me lately and i had a concept that i wanted to share but wasn't sure how to express that. if you guys are alright with getting my asks in the form of notes some times i would appreciate it! anyways, keep your eyes out for some of those...if kyle week runs into next week, sorry.

idk...this is so long. all this to say...i'm really sorry? i haven't been a very solid creator lately, but i'm a little unstable rn. but i am working on it and i hope to be back on the horse by tonight and share my notes at least and show you guys how my brain is working.

in the mean time, please direct as many questions as you would like in the direction of riley, teri and ana who not only are epic writers but have been an epic support system/helping me get back into things.

thank you for caring, thank you for reading...keeping up with this blog and the questions and creating constantly is sometimes challenging, but very rewarding. i promise that i am not neglecting my asks or all of you because i don't care, its actually because i care very much and only want to give you stuff that is awesome and cool and well researched. so, again, just give me a second to get my barings and while it kind of eats at my bad bpd brain i might try and share stuff with you guys that's half baked because the feedback might help.

tldr: i love you, this made no sense, i'm a mess, but i am fine.

miss you and love you. happy kyle week.

-uncle nina

[missingn000]

the phantom guardian, chapter thirty-four: guilty as charged has now been posted!

link

playlist

happy reading!

[aranarumei]

the anomalous agate (part 1)

edit: there's an updated version of this here

so. a few days ago i floated the idea of a crossover of hanzawa to tashiro and the case files of jeweler richard to the illustrious @dirtbra1n, and after talking about it i. could not stop thinking about it. here is that. you will notice above it says part 1, and that is because I spiralled a bit out of control. this is so long (4.3k) that I thought it merited me posting it on ao3 as well, if you'd prefer to read it there. there's also some notes about the fic contained there, none of which I feel like repeating, except i do have to credit the line of dialogue where seigi asks hanzawa why he has so many piercings to @dirtbra1n. that's entirely their genius.

without further ado, under the cut:

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (part 1)

The longer I worked for the shop, the fewer days arrived when there were no appointments scheduled for the day. As always, Richard seemed unfazed by the lack of customers. I supposed it made sense—this was a shop that only existed on the weekends, after all. He had hired me, but had the two of us not met by chance, it was likely he wouldn’t have hired anyone at all.

Perhaps the reason my employer seemed so content was the fact that he was currently cutting into a delicate slice of tiramisu crepe cake. He ate with almost ethereal grace, and as I somehow hadn’t thought to grab a slice for myself, my mind wandered to the circumstances that had led me to the purchase.

The week before, I had been making Richard’s royal milk tea as usual—I felt somewhat confident in my skills at this point, but there really was no matching a master—and asked him if there was a reason we didn’t serve coffee to customers. It was a common feature of many cafés, after all, and though this place was no longer a café, we still offered things like tea and snacks to customers.

Richard had stared at me like he was waiting for me to figure something out on my own, and after wracking my brain for possibilities, I tried, “We have barley tea and green tea, so it can’t be because you think anything except for royal milk tea won’t do…”

I received a deep sigh for my efforts. Richard arched an eyebrow. “Do you know how much is involved in the process of making coffee?” he asked.

As the coffee I most regularly consumed came from a can, there wasn’t a single response I could give.

That night, I searched up the process of manufacturing and brewing coffee, and quickly found myself beginning to develop a headache. Not only were there many places where coffee beans were grown, the different ways in which coffee was then brewed and what it was paired with felt almost limitless. Searching for espresso machines brought prices well over 15,000 yen, and it was at that point that I began to understand what Richard had conveyed in a single sentence.

Instant coffee could be made without any sense of technique or equipment, but the kind of coffee that set one’s mind at ease was probably the kind that only a real café was capable of. Or a coffee enthusiast, and I was neither. I tried to conjure the image of being offered canned or instant coffee at Jewelry Étranger, and immediately wrinkled my nose. Coffee at a café was meant to pleasant; I had no desire to remind myself of what it felt like to work late night after late night as a security guard. While I felt coffee had a warm, comforting scent, I knew all too well that it was also a bitter necessity. I was thankful that the caffeine had kept me awake, but it only worsened the quality of my sleep.

Still, though I had given up the idea of introducing coffee to our drink selection, I must not have completely forgotten about it, because the next time I stepped into a bakery, their offering of a tiramisu crepe cake caught my immediate attention.

I’d had tiramisu only once during a birthday in junior high. Birthdays when I was younger were a melancholy affair—they were small, intimate celebrations that reminded me of the insignificance of my life. It was the same feeling as lighting a candle in pure dark—loneliness shined more under small points of light. But my mother had always remembered to buy a cake year after year, no matter the circumstances. While she had already developed a taste for coffee, I still considered it something that was a bitter, awful drink that adults actually enjoyed. But after some firm persuasion from my mother, I reluctantly dug in.

Add enough sugar and it can turn bitter into sweet. I knew that now, but as a child I had been given an experience akin to magic. Even now, I could still recall the light and sweet taste accompanied by the delicate hints of coffee and chocolate.

Remembering it now, it was hard to explain why I hadn’t had one in such a long time, but I hadn’t developed the habit of searching out cafés, bakeries, and sweet shops until I started working at Jewelry Étranger. Food tasted better as of late.

This bakery in particular was a favorite of mine—it felt like every time I entered, there was still some sweet I had yet to try. And encounters like these, where it felt like little parts of my life were slotting together in serendipitous fashions, were becoming far more common. It was obvious in the way I’d found out about Tanimoto-san’s love for rocks and minerals, as well as her friend Shinkai’s dance company, or Hase-san visiting at the exact time I happened to be in the back, but when I told Richard this, he simply brushed it off.

“The more knowledge and experience you acquire, the more the world reveals itself to you,” he said. “Department stores have existed before you began working here, but only once you took an interest in diamonds did you notice the kinds of jewels they sold. The girl you wish was your girlfriend had an interest in minerals long before you began to. That was not fate—it was the fact that the more you learned, the more you could find commonalities or points of connection in the world around you.” He paused. “You, in particular… I would guess that you run into so many coincidences because you’re unable to turn your back.”

He was correct. The more people that visited Richard’s store, the more that I came to knew about the world. I had liked Tanimoto-san before I had met Richard, and she had loved rocks and minerals for far longer. But because I had been able to meet with Richard—and that was an encounter that could have only been fate—I’d gained awareness of a part of the world that had always existed, just not in my eyes. The more I learned about jewels, the more I treasured various things.

So that Saturday, I entered the bakery again, bought a slice, and arrived at Jewelry Étranger with an offering.

“…I still won’t give you a raise, you know,” Richard said.

As always, he looked beautiful. I had the feeling that he’d be annoyed if I told him the purchase was due to a bottomless kind of gratitude.

“I know.” At this point, I wondered if I needed to directly tell him how he paid far more than what I earned as a security guard. But I’d already turned down a job offer to stay here, so he must have known that I felt as if the work I was doing here was infinitely more valuable.

Since we’d had this kind of exchange quite a few times before, Richard tried the tiramisu crepe cake without much fuss. It was obvious he was enjoying it—perhaps his face hadn’t cracked out into a smile or anything of the sort, but there was a serene look on his face when he was enjoying sweets.

As he ate, a question popped to mind: “Say, Richard, have you had real tiramisu in Italy before?”

Richard paused between bites. “Do you mean to ask if I’ve had authentic tiramisu?”

“Well, you just seem as if you’ve been everywhere in the world…”

Rather than tell me if he’d spent time in Italy or not, Richard began to speak about the conflicted meaning of the word ‘authentic.’

“Tiramisu is Italian in origin, but the exact nature of how it was first produced is still up for debate. Tiramisu as we recognize it today certainly does not come in the nature of a crepe cake, but—” He paused to take another bite. “Grab yourself a fork, would you?”

I stared at him blankly as he deliberately placed his fork down on his plate. The last few bites of the crepe cake remained untouched, and only when he tilted his head in confusion did I rush to the kitchen in realization.

When I returned, Richard continued speaking without commenting on my lack of wits. “Something being authentic indeed means it is the real thing—a genuine article. Authenticity is also related to truth—in art, the style of realism is grounded in an attempt to depict life authentically. Without alterations or embellishments. For gemstones this is a fairly simple thing to classify—jewels are mined from specific places, so we designate that which is naturally-occurring as authentic. This runs in opposition as to imitation jewels, which are made from a different material, and approximate the look of a jewel without matching its innate qualities. The question of authenticity also is relevant when looking at heat treatment—pigeon blood rubies that haven’t undergone heat treatment are more valuable, because they have acquired the color naturally, yes?”

I nodded in agreement, reminded of Tanimoto-san’s opinion on heat treatment. She probably prized the authenticity of a gem—the one-of-a-kind nature each jewel had. I understood her feelings, but I also thought there was some kind of wonder in the process of polishing and cutting and heat treatment—each step gave a jewel a special kind of shine. But beauty was the kind of thing where opinions differed often.

“You’ve forgotten to actually put your fork to use,” Richard said, and I startled out of my daze to hurriedly take a bite. Well, no one would disagree about his beauty.

As expected, the tiramisu crepe cake was both light and sweet. The texture of crepes was certainly different than what I’d eaten as a child, but both carried that sense of pure delicacy—each layer felt like cotton-candied air. Though it didn’t smell like coffee, there was indeed the warm, rich undertone of what I’d come to understand as coffee’s flavor. If I could spend a birthday just like this… it would be a treasure of a memory.

Richard’s lips curled. “How is it?”                      

I made sure to properly swallow before I replied. “It’s delicious,” I marveled. “I don’t know why I’d forgotten the taste.”

“When you make rice at home, would you consider that rice real or authentic?” Richard asked. When I nodded, still chewing on my final bite of cake, he then asked, “Why?”

Maybe I would buy tiramisu on the way home. Or gift some to Hiromi—I could only assume that my birthday all those years ago was the last time she’d had tiramisu, too. “Well, because it’s rice,” I said. “I bought the rice grains, didn’t I? They were grown naturally. And then I cooked them.”

“If you acquired the exact ingredients required for tiramisu, and followed the same exact process as the original—though there are debates at to what the original is—would you still say that was authentic?”

I frowned. “I… suppose I would? Since everything is exact.” Was there a loophole I was missing?

“Perhaps,” Richard said. “Because it is hard to pinpoint its specific origins, what tiramisu qualifies as authentic can be hard to judge. Though the base components and methods are the same, the exact specifics differ—some may consider any tiramisu that follows the general process to be authentic, while others may not. In the case of champagne, unless what you think of champagne is made in the Champagne region of France, it cannot legally be called by that name. Even if the sparkling wine that is created is similar in taste, or uses the same process and ingredients, if the grapes are not sourced from that region, it will not be champagne.”

“Even though it’s possible to make an equivalent product?”  

“You could, indeed, make a very close match,” Richard said. “But it would legally not be authentic. Can you think of a reason why someone might want a name of a food protected?”

When phrased like that, the answer arrived to me immediately. “Brand protection,” I said. “Because the idea of champagne is precious, if other winemakers started selling something labelled as champagne, it would lose some of its prestige. By controlling what can be called champagne, they retain control over the production and image of champagne.”

“Good for you,” Richard said, and I bit down a smile. “Authenticity holds a different value for many people and many things. All that aside… this tiramisu crepe cake remains delicious.”

“It is,” I agreed, and then began to make him tea.

The rest of the day passed by in peace. Richard read from his collection of books, blond hair glittering under the sharp sun. I busied myself by cleaning the kitchen and running out to complete a few errands. The movement was helpful; the chill of autumn had settled in, and I had made the mistake of dressing far more lightly than Richard. His choice of wear likely made it easy for him to sit still, but I thought that even if he was wearing his suit in a blizzard or a tropical summer, he would seem as even-keeled as ever. That was the beauty of jewels—they were something that was gorgeous from all angles.

Around a half hour before closing time, the intercom buzzed.

Richard set down his book, and I went to let in our surprise customer.

Accompanied by a brush of cold wind, a young man stepped into the store. He had a slim frame, but despite being dressed as lightly as I was, showed no signs of being sensitive to the cold. His hair was slightly long in the front, bangs barely cropped above his eyes, but it was trimmed evenly. He was dressed casually yet neatly in a simple powder-blue sweater, gray slacks, and loafers.

The door closed behind him, and he glanced around the room once before asking, “This is a jeweler’s store, correct?”

“You’d be right,” I said, guiding him to sit in one of the red armchairs.

His hesitant expression curved into a full-faced smile. As he sat down, the awkward lines of his body began to bleed away, and he relaxed into the chair with an air of steady self-assurance. His pose remained polite, though—he kept his hands carefully folded over his lap, and his ankles were loosely crossed.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked. Originally, I had wanted to give him something to soothe his nerves, but it looked like that was unneeded.

“Ah… that milk tea would be nice, if you don’t mind,” the man said, gesturing to Richard’s teacup.

Richard returned from the bookshelf, taking over the process of greeting out newest, customer, and I headed back to the kitchen. Both men spoke in measured tones, so even though they spoke at a medium volume, their voices carried well enough.

“…Richard Ranasinghe de Vulpian? Is it alright to call you Richard-san, then?” He spoke the name slowly, but he pronounced Richard’s full name without fumbling.

“Just Richard is fine, too.”

“Nice to meet you too, Richard-san. I’m Hanzawa Masato. If I’m not incorrect, you sell jewelry at this place?”

“Indeed we do. Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

I returned to see Hanzawa-san wearing a thoughtful expression on his face. His gaze flickered towards me as I reentered the room. “I was hoping to look at stud earrings… is there anything else I should specify? I would prefer if it wasn’t prohibitively expensive…”

“Are there any kinds of stones you’re interested in looking at? Or a particular occasion or style this is meant for?”

When I drew close enough, Hanzawa-san turned to face me and accepted my tea, eyes still curved in a pleasant smile. “It’s something like a birthday gift, I suppose. As for stones… I’m not too knowledgeable regarding them.” He paused to contemplate.

Choosing a gift was always a complicated thing, in my opinion. For a gift, the trouble never ended at the purchase—it was always at the gifting that the issues arose. Would they understand the gift with the same meaning that I had in mind when I picked it? I thought about my grandmother and mother choosing my name. Was I the type of person they’d had in mind? I could only hope that was the case.

“I guess… something neutral would be best? The kind of earring fit for daily work wear.”

“Are you interested in looking at birthstones?”

Hanzawa-san sipped his tea, eyes fluttering shut in thought. “Not particularly.”

I had spent enough time to catch the traces of concern on Richard’s face, but not enough time to understand his worries. “It will take some time for me to bring my selections out. Please enjoy your tea while you wait,” he said, and then he was off, a determined crease to his brows.

Though I didn’t know exactly what was troubling him, I could learn. Surely Richard wouldn’t mind if I made some small talk?

“Might you also be a university student, Hanzawa-san?”

Hanzawa-san waved dismissively. “It’s only my first year, so I think I’m younger than you. I know I’m a customer, but there’s no need to be formal. Your name is…?”

“Nakata Seigi,” I said. “I’m in my second year.”

“I was right, then,” Hanzawa said. He’d passed over both Richard and my name without comment. I’d expected him to sound as restrained as he had with Richard, but he spoke freely. “Would I be right in saying you seem more interested in jewels as compared to jewelry?” At my confusion, he gestured to my neck, ears, and hands, which were bare of any accessories. “You don’t seem to wear any, so I’d wondered…”

“I suppose it’s the jewel itself that interests me,” I admitted. “Is it the opposite thing for you?”

“Most likely,” Hanzawa said. “It’s what I have experience in, anyways.”

At my once-again befuddled expression, Hanzawa brushed back his hair, and I caught sight of six piercing holes in his left ear.

“I see…” I replied, a little stunned. Even when his hair wasn’t brushed back, it was easy to see a few of his piercing holes.

Richard had probably noticed them from the moment he’d walked in.

Now that I thought about it clearly, a birthday gift could be presented to oneself, couldn’t it? Just like Yamamoto-san trying to buy herself a garnet.

I’d seen guys in my college with piercings, but none who bought any with jewels like the ones in Richard’s store. It was a kind of flashy choice for someone who looked so mild-mannered, but so were piercings in general.

In the same way that I’d only noticed the tiramisu in that bakery after asking Richard about coffee, I realized the reason for his concern. If it was a present for himself, the uncertainty in his answers could prove troublesome.

“If I could ask…” I prompted, as Richard returned with his tamatebako.

Richard set down his tamatebako with a harder than usual thud. He still looked concerned, but there was a different note to it.

“Sure.”

“Is there a reason a guy as young as you has so many piercings?”

Richard opened up his tamatebako with a sharp click.

Hanzawa kept smiling up at me. He took a long sip of his tea, and then directed his attention towards what Richard had selected.

I leaned over to take a look. As I did, Richard shot a pointed glare towards me. What? I mouthed back, but he ignored me.

The stones Richard had picked were split between gemstones with faceted cuts and cabochons. The studs themselves were made of a simple silver backing, with the stone fitted on top in a rounded or squared shape. The exception to this was the studs fitted with lapis lazuli, which were backed with gold. While I recognized the diamond and amethyst, there were a few colored stones in faceted cuts that I wasn’t certain how to identify. But the ones that caught my attention were the larger stud earrings, which were fitted with polished stones that didn’t sparkle but had bands of red, terracotta, and peach striped across its surface. Others had the same banding pattern but in soft grays and whites.

“These are beautiful,” Hanzawa said, smile dropping into a look of deep consideration. He leaned forward to study each one. “Of course, diamonds are a classic choice,” he sighed to himself.

“The clear color of a diamond is indeed well-suited to various shades of any outfit you might choose.”

“I see,” Hanzawa mused. He gestured to the rest of the jewels. “I recognize the amethyst. And the… lapis lazuli, yes? Seeing it in person, it certainly is a vivid kind of blue,” he said. “But I’m a little unfamiliar with the rest of these gems. Would you mind explaining them?”

“Of course,” Richard said. “The green stone you see here is peridot. The yellow, orange, and brown stones you see here are citrine. Like amethyst, it is a type of quartz. This”—he pointed to a deep yellow-orange stone— “is heat-treated amethyst, which looks similar to citrine, with minor differences. The banded stones are agate. They are a mix of quartz and moganite—both have an equivalent chemical composition, but different crystal structures.”

I hadn’t heard of moganite until now—unless I was mishearing morganite, but Richard had such wonderful pronunciation I thought that was impossible. Despite all of the information, all Hanzawa did was nod in understanding.

“Peridot,” Hanzawa repeated to himself. “I don’t think I’ve seen any before.”

The stone he was looking at was a sparkling kind of lime green. “It’s like the color of spring,” I said.

Hanzawa bowed his head, suddenly bashful. “Yes. It’s… well, it’s a color I’m fond of,” he admitted.

“Would you like to see more?”

He shook his head. “…No, it’s not really… well-suited for me.” After a moment of contemplation, he pointed to the lapis lazuli. “How does this one get its gold flecks?”

“Lapis lazuli is composed of several different minerals, and a common addition happens to be pyrite, which is responsible for that gold color. As you mentioned, it is a very vivid blue, which is why, historically, it was ground to create ultramarine. Before a synthetic alternative was created, it was an extremely expensive and prized paint.”  

Hanzawa smiled down at the stones. “I’ve heard of ultramarine. Isn't it what provides the blue shades in many of Johannes Vermeer’s works?”

I made a note to ask Richard who Johannes Vermeer was later.

“That’s correct.” After a pause, Richard added, “If you are looking for something neutral, blue tends to be a color that pairs well with others.”

“Oh, that’s—I’ll keep it in mind,” Hanzawa said. Haltingly, he asked, “Is jewelry made of lapis lazuli—is it quite common?”

“Compared to the rest of these stones, it’s a bit of a more delicate material,” Richard allowed, “so it has to be carefully looked after. But historically, lapis lazuli has been used in all kinds of jewelry.”

“…Is that so.”

Silence dragged on between them. Hanzawa seemed unbothered by it, though it was hard to see much of his expression, with both his bangs and lashes obscuring his eyes.

“…This agate. I feel like I’ve seen stones with this banding before.”

“Banding is characteristic but not exclusive to agate,” Richard said. “It has been used for carvings as well as jewelry and remains popular today. Each piece of agate has differences in how exactly the banding occurs, so one could say that each piece is truly unique.”

“Unique…” A ghost of uncertainty appeared on Hanzawa’s face, but it was gone in a flash. “Does it come in any other colors?”

“Oftentimes agate will be dyed into various colors, but there are some other colors present in naturally occurring agates. Would you like to see some blue lace agate?”

“Surely that dyed agate is prettier, huh?” Hanzawa murmured, so low I barely heard him. Apropos of nothing, he then straightened up, looking flustered. “Sorry,” he said. “I think—I think I’m a little in over my head.” He drank the last of his tea in disconcerting silence.

“If you’d like to come back, we take appointments,” I said.

“…Right,” Hanzawa said, eyes still fixed on the earrings before him. He set his teacup down on the table. “What would be a good time?”

“Sunday, 4PM?” Richard suggested, and Hanzawa agreed.

With that settled, Hanzawa thanked me for the tea, bid a polite goodbye to us both, and exited the store, leaving another gust of crisp air in his wake.

As it was now closing time, I went to collect the now empty teacups, only to find Richard looking up at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked.

He sighed. “Nothing that concerns you, I suppose.”

“By the way, who’s Johannes Vermeer?” I asked.

“Have you ever seen Girl with a Pearl Earring?” Richard asked.

“He was the artist?” I confirmed, and then went to wash the teacups.

When I returned, Richard was staring at his open tamatebako.

I took a seat next to him. “Thinking about our customer?”

“…Jewels reflect the inner feelings of a person,” Richard said after a long silence. “I wonder how to convey that truth to a person like him.”

“It was strange to see someone so young here,” I agreed. “Well, Hajime-kun was much younger, but his circumstances were different.”

“You’re quite young yourself,” Richard commented dryly. “Aren’t you two the same age?”

“If we went to the same university, I’d be his senpai,” I said. “Still. It’s rare. I thought he’d be more nervous.”

“…I don’t think he wasn’t nervous,” Richard said, but when I asked him what he meant, he didn’t elaborate.

“Well,” I said, wondering how I could clear those worry lines from his face, “we’ll see him next week.”

“Maybe,” Richard said, and this, I didn’t need him to explain.

If Hanzawa Masato came in next week at the appointed time, or if he had disappeared out that door for forever, it was impossible to know.

[clawsextended]

a note: i treat memes like i would starters because in my experience plotting tends to fizzle out way too fast. so basically, memes are me saying ‘hey if you feel it, let’s do it!’ if not? just gimme a like. if you wanna save it on your blog for our tag, very welcome to rebagel it. but i always write memes with the intention of continuation, never the expectation. if you make one of my memes a thread — you’ve caught my vibe and i thank you!

[skimmeh]

Not me thinking of a lil alternate ending to the dsmp au, with all the post nuke and character traveling to different realms and stuff

You don't understand how much I love adventure time and it's post apocalypse world, the inspiration is strong haha.

Maybe after finals I'll doodle concepts!

[cat-loving-elf]

"yapping with rhymes"

(vol. 1) (maybe there will be more volumes B] )

today we have a light drizzle

i'll sculpt rhymes with a chisel

those rhymes so fire you’ll sizzle

it has no meaning, but still i’ll bizzle

my sprite gonna fizzle

man i love sprite

darn sprite, drunk in the night

the fizzly feel on yo tongue

just as if there an opera sang

might, flight, light, kite, aight

lotta rhymes for sprite

one should not fight

cause not to rhyme - that’s not a right

so come on, spit fyre with your might

lines are great, no need to feel fright

i’m spitting those rhymes like a gun

but i don’t wanna run

i’m just chilling here

time? that’s no fear

i got some good gear

by that i mean my head

it’s like a rhyming shed

a shed o’ rhymes, if you will

on those lines will be executed: kill

cause im killing those rhymes and lines

my rhyme-o-meter at least inclines

where is it, where is it to find?

well, it’s all in my mind

[babygirlwolverine]

last year for nov 5th I posted a lyric edit, a poem, a simplistic edit, and a drabble! this year for nov 5th, I’ll be posting a 12k word fic! 💖