#it took em an extra hour to write it all out again

[luc1-anna]

"ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴛ ᴡɪꜰᴇ" - R.Sukuna

⋆˚ Your husband had been away from you for weeks, it was a grueling time away from you, normally he'd be fucking you atleast once a week, but in the past 3 weeks he couldn't do that, despite how big his ego was he didn't feel the need to go and cheat especially since you were pregnant with his child. Of course he wanted to treat his pregnant wife when he got home, despite bringing nothing back other than a bunch of dead humans and bones to add to hit collection, he was going to make you scream in joy. - R.Sukuna

Smut. M.list. 0.9k Words

"Go easy on me 'kuna" that's all you could get out before throwing your head back, the stupid baby inside of you had taken all of your energy trying to grow, you already had back pain, which the servants got rid of, but only for the time being. And a giant baby growing inside of your poor womb, but you should've expected this as your husband was a beast, 4 arms, 2 mouths, even two dicks. And so on, you get the point. "Yeah yeah, woman" it seemed like he'd disregard your words but in fact he did the opposite, taking into consideration that you were the only woman to carry his child, so of course he'd be careful with you. Hands trailing along your baby bump, tracing the stretch marks which decorated your skin, they weren't pretty obvious, only to him since he had a good eye.

Legs bound to his thighs as you awaited for him to enter you, you were sick and tired of him teasing your poor hole, you just wanted him to stuff your insides already. "Hurry up" hands placed on your bump as you tried to find your baby boy. "Shut u-" stopping himself from saying anything rude. Fingers resting if you were wet enough for him to enter you, since he was so big it would stretch you out to your max, fortunately he was only going to put in one cock and not both. As he wasn't in the mood for lube up your other hole. Tip tracing your clit, already smudging his precum all along you. Recieving a moan from you meaning he was already leaning on a good path, dick making it's way down to your main prize, slowly opening up your hotel with his tip, already stretching you out. First dipping inside of you, just feeling the warmth of your walls wrapping around him made him want to get you pregnant once again. "Ryo.." head ruffling at the pillows as you tried to adjust to his size. "Shhh" pushing down on some of your womb, preparing you for what was to come. Retracting his hand back as his felt some kicks from his son, refusing to loose more space than what he already had. "Keep it here" positioning his hand so that it was placed on the side of your hips rather than your bump, sending shudders down your spine from his icy touch. Normally he'd never take orders from anyone but since it was you, he'd listen since your comfort was one of his top priority. Not number 1 but it was up there. Cock sliding through easily, watching as you engulfed his length, one inch at a time, he knew that once it got the 5 inches mark that you'd take some time to adjust to him. "Stay still" holding you in place as you shuffled about, trying to relax your breathing from the rather sharp breaths you kept onto taking in. Legs pressing harder into his ass you tried to contain yourself, he already felt so good despite doing nothing. Pushing another inch into your gaping hole, stretching you out for the last few of them. Soon enough he was full in, balls resting side by side touching your skin, they already seemed full enough to impregnate you over and over again. Body involuntarily moving forward and backwards as he used that as a source for his pleasure, soon after using his own to thrust deep inside of you. Skin clapping against eachother, only adding to the sound with his balls squishing itself against you. Moans erupting from your mouth as you felt him, pushing against your walls fortunately he cock had a curve so it was deep enough to reach your cervix.

Angling his body so he was deeper inside of you, tip causing friction as he ran it along the insides. One of his spare hands resting right beside you despite having some of the best core strength. Tongue releasing from its hiding place as it left a wet trail under your bump, drooling down towards your poor clit. Twirling inside, mainly focusing on your lips as he saw how reactive you were whenever he did that. Body involuntarily squirming around, trying to find an escape from his tongue, it wasn't like you weren't enjoying it, more like a new cold sensation on your body. Using his hands to hold your legs down as they tried to push against him, fortunately it wasn't much of an effort since you were so tired. "Ryo" Moaning out his name in response.

Fingers making their way from your sides towards your breasts as you tried to overcome the sensation form down there, getting dick down and getting eaten out by the same man at the same time! His normal attitude seeming to disappear as he saw how vulnerable you were to him. Hands sitting perfectly onto your breasts. Kneading and playing with the fat of your breasts, but his index finger always made its way back towards your nipple, circling your bud with it, always pressing down just to watch it pop back up. Finally getting tired of how little you reacted compared to his other things, resting his palm ontop, a warm sense erupting as you focused on what he was doing, eyes glaring over to your right breast. Tongue slipping out as it circled your breast, suckling on your nipple, practically preparing you for breastfeeding that baby of yours.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Heroes To Villains

DILF Yandere Superheroes x Gender Neutral Superhero Reader CW: Noncon, imprisonment, minor violence, gratuitous amount of firearms, super powers, super soldiers, spitroasting, general yandere behavior, bratty reader Word Count: 3.8k (I am sorry this took a bit for me to get to, only took a few hours to write though. I hope you guys love it. Feel free to tip if you do~)

The city you were stationed in was under attack by some fairly destructive super villains. They were either traitors born of the same government program that had produced you and the other super soldiers you worked with or they were sent by another country to attack the retired super agents of your country. Though it was also possible they were a rogue foreigner with a vendetta. All the people making up your squad had been in the military and had made significant enemies.

Their goals did not really matter so much at the moment. It was more important that they were defeated before they caused any casualties.

There were two of them. One of them with an ability to lash out with streams of fire and smoke and another that could jump up really fast and high before slamming down and causing a large explosion on impact.

They were no match for you and your comrades. Red and Ace had handled much worse threats than these two with ease. Ace had been a top pilot before undergoing medical experimentation that left him with angel-like wings and the ability to shoot energy blasts from his hands. The man was like a living B-52. And Red was basically a human tank. Very little could so much as scratch his skin and he had tremendous physical strength.

Both of them had soared through the ranks and had distinguished themselves as competent generals in the last great war. Now they were retired and used their abilities as super soldiers to become heroes and protect the capital from the strange threats that had been unleashed during war time. Mostly the occasional villain. Sometimes a mutant animal.

You had just been a simple medic. Nothing too fancy, but you had hesitantly taken the opportunity to go through experiments that would allow you to heal others much more effectively and without the need for invasive surgery. Most of the super soldiers gained a unique ability and also became more resilient to damage and agile.

And you had gotten those perks too, but not to the degree as everyone else. Though you had gotten an extra ability that most people lacked. Hyper accurate aim with long distance weapons. But you also suffered a drawback when compared to your peers. You got exhausted easily, having very little stamina.

Who could forget the time you had saved the city by firing the railroad gun at the giant robot that used mutated biological components in its construction? Firing a 19,000 pound shell and obliterating an entire giant robot with one perfectly executed shot had been amazing.

You longed for that kind of usefulness again. But currently you were a bit bored, as a long range support unit you frequently hung back a bit. Red and Ace normally cleared everything up themselves without having need of your abilities.

Ace had plucked the hopper from the sky and injected him with a serum that would knock him out cold until he could be taken into custody where his abilities would be removed completely, if they could be. Red had similarly taken out the fire user who had discovered that his searing flames did little more than make Red sweat a bit.

They regrouped together before they started walking back to you, each carrying the limp weight of an unconscious enemy on their shoulders. It would be a few minutes before they got to the rendezvous.

You heard the gruff voice of Red on your comm line.

“We got em’ On our way back now.”

“Affirma-”

You were cut off by a sudden shift underground followed by a woman jumping up from the earth below you and punching you hard enough to launch you several feet.

There had been a third and they had split up to take you on individually.

As you fell through the air you took out your side arm and fired every round in rapid succession. Each one aimed for her heart. Each one hit their mark. But when you hit the ground you had smacked your head pretty hard and the world faded to black.

You woke up in a medical bed in the basement of your headquarters. You were quite dizzy and you felt like you were certainly going to vomit.

You held your hands to your head and your palms flashed.

Much better. If you hadn’t been knocked out you would have simply been able to heal whatever injuries you had sustained in a flash. Oh well you were better now.

Ace walked in to check on you right as you had been getting up. He burst into a smile at seeing you awake. His blue eyes full of joy.

“Hey runt! Glad to see that you’re getting up and about!”

“Who’s a runt!?”

He flexed his biceps to drive the point in.

“Red, get in here, The runt is up!”

You heard his loud steps reverberate upstairs as he bounded towards the basement door and came rushing down.

“It’s been five days, we were beginning to really worry about you, squirt.”

He was smiling but you could tell his red eyes held a lot of concern in them. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“Well, no need to worry. I am not as fragile as a regular person. And I am fully healed now.”

“Yeah… but you weren’t hit by a normal person. And you aren’t as durable as most of us…”

That was Ace.

“Yeah, yeah, I will be more careful, okay? I know my limits. I don’t need a lecture. I took the enemy down and I am okay now so we don’t need to linger on it.”

Ace put his hand to his face and his wings quivered in annoyance as they often do when he tries to lecture you and you just won’t have it.

You rolled your eyes and finally Red spoke up.

“This isn’t the first time you have gotten hurt on the field. Even with precautions like staying back you still end up injured!”

“What’s your point? It's a battle, injuries happen. At least I can heal.”

Ugh, an Ace lecture you were used to. You didn’t need both of them nagging at you.

You rolled your eyes as Red continued.

“Have you ever considered… going into another career? You volunteer at the hospital… maybe you could do that full time?”

That did it.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t in any command position, but I was a trained soldier all the same! I think I can handle myself!”

You stormed away from them and went up the stairs, slamming the door behind you. Assholes. Who were they to tell you what you should consider doing? It was your life and if you wanted to use it fighting genetically enhanced monsters and super-criminals then that was your right to do so.

It would become evident in the future that this incident was where everything started to go wrong. Going forward in battle they always had at least one of them at your side whenever it was physically possible for them to do so.

When you were eventually still injured even with that precaution, even though it was minor, they pressured you again to quit being a hero. They thought maybe you just were too attached to them to leave so they even suggested that you could still be their medic but you would stay on at the base. You could even still operate the railroad rifle that could fire shells from miles away whenever a large foe approached the city.

But you wouldn’t have it. Fuck them. You told them that if you had to form a new squad in a new city then you would do so.

They frantically apologized immediately so they let it go.

It was unfathomable that they would ever allow you to do such a thing. Go off where they couldn’t protect you even a little? Where some inexperienced whelp of a leader would surely get you killed? Not a chance!

But neither could they allow you to remain a front line combatant. Not after the injuries and not with how easily you became fatigued when exerting yourself.

The solution was ugly, but it was what it was. You left them no other option for your own safety.

Though it would make them criminals themselves they had to do it for your own good. They had to keep you here with them where you would be safe and secure. They could turn the base’s AI defenses to keep you here and make sure that you were safe. They could also have it alert them through their comms if you there was any trouble while they were on a mission.

You were laying on your bed with your hands behind your head. You stared at your ceiling and contemplated all that you had been through. The war, seeing comrades on the battlefield ripped apart with no way to save them as they bled out in agony. You had to protect people from that in every way that you could, and if you did die on the battlefield then that was fine by you.

The intrusion of Red and Ace barging into your room out of nowhere pulled you from your thoughts and you regarded them both with a scowl.

“What NOW!? Can’t you guys at least knock? I mean seriousl-”

Ace cut you off with a hand gesture for silence before Red spoke up.

“Listen squirt… we decided something. We can’t allow you to join us on the field anymore…”

“Didn’t you just apologize for saying that after I threatened to leave? Whatever, I am out of here!”

You hopped up to gather your belongings and set out at once, the mere sight of the two heroes making you want to go on a rampage, but Red pushed you back onto the bed, then Ace picked up where Red had left off.

“Well that’s not all, runt. We also decided… you can’t leave here either…”

You started laughing. It had to be some kind of joke. But the tension that filled the room told you otherwise. You looked from Red to Ace and the empty expression from Ace and the guilty one from Red told you that they were deadly serious.

You grabbed your sidearm and launched yourself at Ace, you weaved past Red and twirled yo get behind Ace and held your arm around his neck with your gun aimed at his head. You didn’t speak a word, your intention clear.

There was no way you would be kept here.

You couldn’t go for Red as small arms fire would bounce off of him, but at point blank range Ace was toast. You backed out of the room, pulling Ace along with you. He cooperated fully. Even a pair of overprotective psychos didn’t want their brains blown out.

Out of nowhere a robotic arm emerged from one of the sockets in the walls. It seized your gun and then Ace flipped your positions with him behind you.

They had reprogrammed the defenses of the base to not allow you to have a weapon. These two were not former generals for nothing. They knew how their adversary, you, would react.

You slammed your foot down on Ace’s and smacked your head behind him to hit his nose. Such weak attacks did nothing to dislodge you from his ironclad grasp.

“Stop this childish behavior and just accept things. This is for your own good. If anything this little outburst has proven that you need to be protected because you certainly cannot control your emotions!”

Red was in front of you, still looking at you with that guilty expression.

“I’ll go get your weapons from your room.”

Ace and you watched in the doorway as Red got a sack and rummaged through every single inch of your private space to look for what was now contraband.

“Come on! If you are going to keep me here at least don’t go invading my privacy like this!”

Much to your embarrassment you actually cried a bit as the large man went through all your things.

He started by removing your pistols from your weapon’s display case. Your Beretta M9, your SIG Sauer P320, you… dear god no… not your baby, not your Magnum Research BFR!

You thrashed more as you saw him take that one.

Then he moved on to your bookshelf. He took out your religious text from the shelf.

“Hey, keep your grubby mitts off of that! It’s sacred!”

“Yeah, Red, don’t you think you should focus o-”

He opened it revealing that it had been cut out and housed one of your many sidearms.

“Of course,” Ace said flatly.

When Red finished with all your pistols he moved on to the ones mounted on your wall. Your Mauser M 98, your Browning BLR, and your little Marlin 70PSS.

The rest of the search was much the same. All but one had been found. Red had to get a second bag for them all. The ones in your desk, under your bed, and the one in your mattress.

Well at least they hadn’t found your most precious gun-child…

“Okay I think I got them all. Nowhere else to search. Be truthful, did I miss any?”

You wiped the tears out of your eyes and lied convincingly. You tried to look as defeated as you could.

“No”

Ace moved the two of you out of the way so Red could take your weaponry to the armory. As he started to leave the room he noticed his footsteps sounded odd in one place.

He pressed his large foot down in the spot a few times, narrowing his eyes.

Fuck.

He bent down and realized he could remove the floor board under the rug in that spot.

He found it, the bag unzipped and your M1 Garand joined the rest of your firearms.

“NOOOO!!! That one is my favorite! It PINGS when you use it!”

Now you were truly defeated, they had gotten every single one of them…

“Holy fuck, how many did you need??”

Ace joined in.

“Yeah that’s all a bit… much…”

“If your only offensive power came from guns then you would make sure to have one near you at all times in case of infiltration or emergencies…”

Ace sighed and let you return to your bed in peace. Or what peace could be had in your glorified prison.

Later in the evening they knocked on your door.

“Hey, we made your favorite food for dinner! And made your favorite dessert too…”

That was Red, you could hear the nervousness in his voice. He knew you would hate him now. You ignored them.

“Come on, don't be like this, you have to eat!”

And that was Ace, insisting that not complying with his psychopathic behavior was childish.

You opened the door and took the food tray. Both of them smiled.

“There, see? We can all still get along. We worked very hard on that meal for you!”

You were sure that they had, they were both skilled cooks. You stared at them expressionless and slammed the tray into their faces before slamming the door.

Ace looked furious but Red held him back.

“Come on Ace… they just need to adjust…”

But you refused to adjust. You ate only when they were out of the house. As the days went by you didn’t speak a single solitary word to either of them, you may as well have been a ghost.

Well… it would have been. Had you not been doing your best to make them the two most miserable men on the planet. You destroyed all the toilet paper, clogging every toilet in the base with it, you destroyed the fridge twice, you broke the TV, tore the couch, the robotic arms stopped you, of course, but you could manage to do a bit of damage each time before it stopped you.

Even Red was getting annoyed with your behavior.

They had both tried everything to get you to behave. Punishments ranging from not eating anything but flavorless oatmeal for days to being forced to sleep in a bed with one of them so they could make sure you didn’t cause any destruction while they slept.

Finally they had had enough, things could not continue on like this and it seemed like you may never open your eyes and see that they were just trying to keep you safe. Without them you’d have ran right into the jaws of danger.

They discussed it among themselves and had one more idea. You needed to feel loved in every possible way. They loved you so much after all, that’s what all this had been about, to protect you because they cared for you. But clearly they needed to step things up a notch or ten.

When they came home that day they barged into your room and grabbed you, taking you kicking and screaming into one of the many spare rooms the base had.

They had outfitted it with a huge bed, the walls painted your favorite color, fresh roses filled a heart shaped vase on the nightstand.

“Let go of me! What did you drag me here just to give me a newer bigger room? A prison is still a prison…”

“It’s going to be…” Red started.

“Our love… nest…” Ace finished, blush evident on his face.

“No thanks. Fucking weirdos.”

“Come on, sex is known to alleviate one’s mood!”

“Yeah, just give it a chance”

Ace smashed his lips into yours and kissed you deeply, you looked at him stunned.

They were serious… You wanted to wretch… Fervently you struggled, trying to get out of Red’s grip but he handed you off to Ace who wrapped his wing around you and led you to the bed.

They took your clothing off before moving on to your own. All of you had scars due to combat and training, and you had seen them nude in the showers before, but this was different. For the first time you felt vulnerable and scared under their combined gaze.

You covered your genitals but they each removed and held one arm so they could appreciate the view. “Come on, don’t be like that. Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Ace whispered as he spread your legs apart.

“Red, did you bring the lube?”

“Yeah, right here.”

Red opened a bottle and lathered both of their growing cocks so that they were drenched with the stuff and then pressed some to your hole and massaged it in. They had no intention of letting this be a painful experience for you. They wanted to show how much they cared about you.

You tried to clench. To close yourself off from them. But the probing fingers would not be denied. You squirmed uncomfortably at the sensation of cold lube being worked into you.

“Try to relax, it will be much better if you embrace us.”

“FUCK YO-”

Red cut you off with a kiss. You tried to bite his tongue but his tongue was no more vulnerable than the rest of his body.

Two sets of hand roamed and pet, and groped your body. Gently caressing you as Red made out with you. When they felt as if they had explored every part of your body they flipped you on to your belly, with Red on his knees in front of you. His crotch level with your face.

Ace was behind you on his knees between your legs, holding them still as he wedged himself closer to your entrance, until the tip of his cock was kissing it.

You couldn’t kick because he had control of your legs. You couldn’t punch because Red had your arms pinned. Now they just had to plug your bratty mouth and you wouldn’t have any means of protest. Verbal or otherwise.

They knew you’d try to bite so Red took your mouth, claiming it with his cock. You tried to move and turn away but once Ace sank his cock into your sensitive depths you gasped in surprise so Red took the chance to put his cock in your soft mouth. He did not go in balls deep, neither of them had yet. They wanted you to enjoy it. To relax. Not worry about being hurt or gagged.

Red humped into your mouth carefully and slowly while Ace did the same behind you.

“Damn, for someone so opposed to it you fit me so well.”

Then Ace added, “Your mouth feels amazing babe. He used his thumb to draw lazy circles into your arms where he held them down. He sighed in pleasure when he felt the pleasured moans Ace was coaxing out of you. Much to your dismay.

But you couldn’t deny that it felt nice. Your body relaxed, just a bit, as the men slowly bred a bit of the stress you had been under out of it.

Now that it seemed that you were enjoying yourself, even though reluctantly, Ace decided he could speed up just a bit, rolling his hips as his cock dug further into you.

Red was going a bit faster too now that you had acclimated and stopped trying to resist so hard. He let your arms go, sure that you had finally realized how silly fighting was. The large man stroked your cheek as he continued thrusting into those sweet lips.

Ace was the first to cum, his wings outstretching fully and deep voice gasping as his large nuts filled you with wave after wave of his seed. His large cock twitched inside of you, pushing you over the edge and into your own orgasm.

Feeling all your muffled cries of pleasure right in his prick caused Red to start cumming. He pulled out, not wanting to choke you on his copious amount of semen that he knew all super soldiers produced in spades, instead cumming all over your face.

Ace pulled out of you and was the first to speak.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You didn’t respond, you were still panting from the workout you had just received. You didn’t protest when Ace pulled you into his lap and held you with your head nestled into his chest. Your head laying right on his hawk tattoo. You didn’t protest when red scooted beside him and kissed you tenderly on the forehead. You even let them clean you up and feed you your favorite meal that they diligently cooked for you while you waited politely on the couch. They figured your resistance to them before was just because you had needs that weren’t getting met.

And from that day forward they knew that anytime you got too snarky or rebellious all they had to do was make time to fuck the brattiness out of you.

[fortheloveofkonig]

Hello

Okay okay so i have a bit of a silly one. So i have autism and somtimes i will mimic somones accent without knowing it. Can you write a fic for Soap x Reader where he accidentally mimics soaps accent when talking.

N like he gets embarrassed and apologies sooooo much jffjfjjffjfjfjcjf and extra embarrassed because he likes the Scot 👀

Its 4am please excuse if theres any spelling errors

And i hope you have a good day!

Note: Ah, the dreaded draft which I never feel like is enough.

It's short but sweet, I may end up one day doing a part two just to add on to it. This was a cute idea as someone who also mimics accents.

I hope you enjoy it anon <3

(Oh, and the reader doesn't really apologise at all because personally, I feel weird making readers apologise for something he can't control <3)

Content: M! Reader (obv), Fluff, Reader is called Mockingbird (in a cute way)

Summary: Reader mimics Soap's accent, Soap has a hayday.

Mimicry (Soap x M! Reader)

You have been a part of the task force for a bit of time now. Enough time for the group to know that you had a tendency to mimic certain sounds that you heard but that was the length of your mimicry as far as they knew.

The group didn't seem to have issues with the sounds unless it came down to you being louder than you were supposed to be while in the field. It has become a part of their lives and they wouldn't have it any other way.

Soap was the person who started to call you by the nickname 'Mockingbird' and it eventually stuck with everyone as well. He meant it in a joking way, making sure that it didn't harm you in any way, and it kind of just stuck as you started to show a fondness for the nickname.

"Hey, birdie."

This one just made your eyes roll as you rack the weights that you were lifting and sit up on the weight bench.

"That one is a no," you respond, shaking your head which earns a laugh from the Scotsman.

"It was worth the try." He walks over and takes a seat next to you, handing you a fresh water bottle which you eagerly accept and down in a few gulps. He looks over at you as you hand him the bottle back and smiles before throwing it into the nearest garbage bin.

"Nice shot." You hum approvingly before standing up, "Lead the way, I know it's for our daily walk."

The two of you started daily walks about a month ago. Most of the time it was after a long day which left you exhausted and thus not very talkative, which was never a problem for Soap. He loved talking and that was multiplied when he had a good listener such as you.

"And that little dick walked up to him and was like, 'Try me'. Can you believe that? The fucker said that to Ghost! The fucking LT!"

He's been going on like this for an hour, you've barely gotten any words in but you didn't mind much especially since this just meant that you guys got to rest in a scenic spot while he rambled on. Every now and then you responded with one word answers but nothing too big.

He was shaking his head before starting again, "I'm telling ya, these new recruits have an insane amount of confidence and that's fucking 'em over."

You end up nodding, while looking up at the sky.

"Insane that someone would go against Ghost like that." A voice that sounds kinda like yours but with a tinge of a different accent slips out from your mouth. You didn't even realize it at first but when you looked over and saw Soap with a teasing smirk on his face, you immediately knew something slipped out.

You took a moment to regather yourself before narrowing your eyes at the Scotsman, "Shut your mouth."

"I haven't even said anything lad."

"Mhm."

"Just thought I heard a mockingbird around, haven't heard one in a while."

He was cut off by you slapping his shoulder and he just burst out laughing.

"You're an asshole." Your voice mumbles through Soap's laughter, and you start to speed ahead away from the Scottish sergeant.

"Lad, wait! Come back, it's important!"

You turn around with your arms crossed and look at the male and he points to the wooded area, he has a shit eating grin on his face.

"It's birdwatching season."

"Oh fuck off, John"

You threw your hands up in defeat and started walking away before Soap ran up to walk beside you.

He stays silent for a few minutes as they continue to walk back to base before he smiles at you and shrugs,

"Just messing with you, it's nice, really. Just gotta push your buttons a bit."

He bumps his shoulder a bit, causing a smile to spread to your face.

"If you tell anyone about this, you're dead."

"Aye aye."

[muzaktomyears]

The man who was there the day the Beatles broke up

Mal Evans was the Fab Four’s roadie, fixer and friend. Paul McCartney confided in him when the band split, while John Lennon relied on him to guard his life. A new book tells his story

The Beatles’ lingering tensions finally caught up to them during a meeting among John, Paul and George at 3 Savile Row on September 10 1969. As Mal and Neil [Aspinall, who ran the Beatles’ company Apple Corps] observed, John took particular issue with what he perceived as Paul’s megalomania, saying that, “If you look back on the Beatles albums, good or bad or whatever you think of ’em, you’ll find that most times if anybody has got extra time it’s you! For no other reason than you worked it like that.” For Mal, the conversation must have been pure agony. He idolised Paul, who bore the brunt of the meeting’s vitriol.

In his own defence, Paul protested that he had “tried to allow space on albums for John’s songs, only to find that John hadn’t written any”.

With the idea of recording a new album seemingly off the table, John suggested that they produce a Christmas single instead. After all, he reasoned, their annual holiday fan club record would be due before long. When this idea was met with silence and indifference, John soberly concluded, “I guess that’s the end of the Beatles.”

As horrible as the experience must have been for Mal, panic hadn’t set in just yet. During the past 15 months, Ringo and George had quit the band at various times, only to be coaxed back. But ten days later it all spilled out again at a meeting at Apple. Mal and Allen Klein (their manager after the death of Brian Epstein) were there, along with Yoko, Neil and the boys. For his part, George was on speakerphone from Cheshire, where he was visiting his ailing mother. The topic at hand was a new agreement with Capitol, which Klein was understandably eager to ink.

As Mal observed, Paul began to enumerate the group’s upcoming opportunities, including a series of intimate gigs and a possible television special. In each instance, John said, “No, no, no,” before telling Paul, “Well, I think you’re daft.” Eventually, he blurted out that he wanted a “divorce”. “What do you mean?” a stunned Paul asked. “The group’s over,” John replied. “I’m leaving.”

At this point, Paul recalled, “Everyone blanched except John, who coloured a little, and said, ‘It’s rather exciting. It’s like I remember telling Cynthia I wanted a divorce.’ ”

Afterwards, Mal and Paul returned to McCartney’s home, where they retreated to the garden, still trying to process what had transpired. Paul remained hopeful that John might change his mind, that the Beatles would continue unabated. But Mal knew better. As with George, Mal had reasoned that “all of them had left the group at one time or another, starting with Ringo’’. But when “John came into the office and said, ‘The marriage is over! I want a divorce,’ that was the final thing. That’s what really got to Paul, you know, because I took Paul home and I ended up in the garden crying my eyes out.”

That night with Lennon and Phil Spector in 1973, when happiness was not a warm gun

Mal took great pleasure in spending long hours in John’s company, enjoying the Beatle’s undivided attention, as opposed to sharing him with Paul, George and Ringo. “It was fascinating,” said Mal, who by this point was living in LA and writing his own songs, “because John was talking to me like I was a songwriter, and that was incredible. For the first time, John and I really communicated, whereas, when it was the four of them, John was always the hardest to talk to. I always thought that when John stopped insulting me, we had fallen out as friends.” But, he added, referring to John’s teasing, “The more he likes you, the more he takes the mickey out of you.”

Yet, as Mal soon discovered, working with John during this period would prove to be a chore — incomparable, in fact, to their touring years together, when the Beatles were often confined to the relative safety of a hotel suite. When he was in LA, John could often be found at the Sunset Strip’s Rainbow Bar and Grill, which had emerged as his de facto headquarters [during a period of heavy drinking which Lennon ironically referred to as the Lost Weekend but actually lasted 18 months.] With musicians like John, Harry (Nilsson), Ringo, Keith Moon, Alice Cooper and Micky Dolenz adopting the Rainbow as their regular watering hole, they had taken to calling themselves the Hollywood Vampires, a nickname that evoked the night hours they spent guzzling hooch in the bar’s loft space.

On one of his most harrowing evenings in Los Angeles, Mal had accompanied John and Phil Spector to the Rainbow. At one point, John walked Phil to his car, assuring Mal that he would return shortly. “About a half hour goes by, and I start worrying and go outside looking for John — no sign,” Mal later wrote. “I’d lost track of a Beatle for a day. What had happened, I found out the following evening, was that when he’d seen Phil off, a few hippie fans of his took him in tow, and John, who had just moved into a flat, couldn’t remember the address, nor his or my phone numbers. [John] eventually turn[ed] up, but not before I’d had a few irate words from Yoko, who phoned me from New York shouting, ‘I thought you were John’s bodyguard — why don’t you guard his body?’ ”

At a loss for words, Mal admitted that “I never really thought of myself as a bodyguard to anybody, but I suppose over the years that had been part of the gig. Anyway, they were all grown up, with very strong minds of their own as to what they wanted to do, and I certainly didn’t expect them to hold themselves accountable to me.”

That December, as work on Back to Mono proceeded, John and Phil shifted their project to the Record Plant West. The change of recording studios had everything to do with John’s and Phil’s antics having gotten them evicted from their previous studio, A&M. At one point, Nilsson and Moon, in a drunken stupor, had urinated onto the recording console, leaving the electronics in an ungodly mess.

Things began innocently enough after John and Phil completed their December 11 session at the Record Plant West, where they took a pass at Chuck Berry’s You Can’t Catch Me. As Mal looked on, the two men, drunk to the gills, were horsing around the Las Vegas Room. In a nod to the early days of Beatlemania when the Beatles would climb on Mal when they heard they were at the top of the charts, John decided to hop onto Mal’s back for a piggyback ride. Unfortunately, Phil opted to get in on the act, too. Mal’s physical dexterity in late 1973 was a far cry from that of the early 1960s, and he had difficulty sustaining the weight of two men atop his aching back. As always, Mal observed, “Phil goes a little too far,” and in the ensuing ruckus, “he karate-chopped me on the nose, my spectacles went flying, and I got tears in my eyes I can tell you. I turned around with a real temper and told Phil, ‘Don’t ever lay another finger on me, man.’ ”

And that’s when Phil, “maybe to re-establish himself in his own eyes”, Mal thought, pulled out a handgun. To the roadie’s surprise, the producer “fired it off under our noses, deafening us both, the bullet ricocheting around the room and landing between my feet”.

John was understandably incensed, exclaiming to Phil, “If you’re gonna kill me, kill me, but don’t take away my hearing — it’s me living!”

Until that moment, Mal and John had believed that Spector’s handgun was a toy. At one point earlier in the evening, Phil had cocked the trigger and aimed the weapon at John’s head. As a result of the incident in the Las Vegas Room, “John’s fear of guns generally was doubled.” For his part, Mal vowed to stay clear of Phil. He would attend the recording sessions in deference to John, but that was it.

In nearly the same instant that Mal decided to banish Phil from his world forever, he and John were hustled off to [co-founder of the Record Plant] Gary Kellgren’s house for a lavish going-away party in honour of Mal, who was preparing to make his return to Sunbury. For the occasion, Phil had arranged for Mal to receive “a beautiful large cake, which must have measured four feet by three feet, so nicely decorated with a large bottle of Napoleon brandy, [and] a lot of comic figures like Superman and Batman,” Mal wrote. The sumptuous dessert was inscribed, “To Mal, my pal, love, Philip.”

As it turned out, the madcap producer’s greatest gift to Mal that night came in the form of his absence. “Phil, to show the most understanding side of his nature, did not come to the party,” said Mal. “He knew if he had, he’d be outrageous and spoil it for me. But he set it up and didn’t come — a true mark of affection from a friend.”

The party came to a sudden close, though, when John, having grown blind drunk, planted a telephone into the sticky remains of the cake.

Meet the Beatles: four days in Mal’s life with the moptops

Paul (1962) In July 1962, Mal and his family attended the celebration of the “Wavertree Mystery”, an annual event held to commemorate the anonymous donation of a local playground back in 1895. Mal later recalled that, “Lil and I were proudly pushing Gary in his pram when she turned to me and said, ‘There’s a weird guy over there — keeps staring at us. Now he looks like a real Cavernite to me.’ On turning, I was to see Paul standing there, unshaven, with a denim jacket thrown over his shoulder and chewing on a toffee apple.” After engaging in the niceties of introducing his wife to the scruffy musician, Mal took Paul for a jaunt. “We spent the rest of the day together,” Mal wrote, “Paul and I daring each other to go on things like the parachute drop and other displays that took nerve, neither of us accepting the challenge.” At one point, they stopped in front of an automobile exhibition. Paul announced to Mal that “one of these days I’m going to own one of those cars’’, pointing to one very humble saloon-type car.

George (1962) After shows at the Cavern, Mal would introduce his wife Lily to the rest of the band. “On one occasion,” Mal recalled, “Lil and I bought the fish and chips for the group and ourselves, as they could only muster enough money between them to pay for the teas.” Although she had her misgivings about Mal’s involvement in their lives, she enjoyed getting to know the bandmates. “After gigs,” she later recalled, “George would come back to our house for bacon and eggs. He sometimes came back before Mal to keep me company. I’d be washing baby clothes and nappies or ironing. I liked him the best.” Lily fondly remembered the time she pushed the bangs from Harrison’s face, saying, “Let’s see what it looks like with your hair back. I like that better.” But George wasn’t having it. He combed his hair forward, telling her, “That’s the way I have to wear it; it’s the Beatle cut.”

Ringo (1965) Driving up the M1, Mal and Ringo stopped at a roadside café for lunch. “We were sitting at the counter,” Mal recalled, “and the chap next to me had obviously been trying to make up his mind whether it really was Ringo with me. Suddenly, he turned to me and said, ‘I don’t care if it is him or not.’ Ringo nearly choked with laughter as I teased the fellow, saying, ‘No, it’s not him. But it gets terribly embarrassing taking him anywhere because everybody mistakes him for Ringo!’”

John (1964) John held no illusions about the Beatles’ behaviour, later admitting that, “We were bastards. You can’t be anything else in such a pressurised situation, and we took it out on Neil and Mal. They took a lot of shit from us because we were in such a shitty position. It was hard work and somebody had to take it. Those things are left out, about what bastards we were. F***ing big bastards, that’s what the Beatles were. You have to be a bastard to make it, and that’s a fact. And the Beatles were the biggest bastards on earth. We were the Caesars. Who’s going to knock us when there’s a million pounds to be made, all the handouts, the bribery, the police, and the hype?”

During a flight to Massachusetts for the September 12 show at the Boston Garden, Mal’s long-standing feelings of intimidation around John came to a head. Sitting at the rear of the plane, he broke down in tears, telling a reporter that “John got kind of cross with me — just said I should go f*** off. No reason, ya know. But I love the man. John is a powerful force. Sometimes he’s rough, if you know what I mean, man. But there’s no greater person that I know.” In many ways, it was as if Mal’s lack of self-confidence, a key aspect of his persona for the balance of his life, had returned with a vengeance. Later John approached Mal and embraced him.

Extracted from Living the Beatles Legend by Kenneth Womack (Mudlark £25), published on November 14.

(source)

[aliorsboxostuff]

tangerine x gn (or m if you need to gender) reader where the twins take a job & the mission is like to protect/escort reader. love ur work have a great day/night!!

A/N: Y’know I've been thinking of writing a fic like that and hey! You requested anon so here it is! I took the liberty to give Reader a codename (both easier for me to write and for y'all to imagine) And he will be codenamed ‘Wolf’ (Cheesy ik). Now Reader is a bit more cheerful and bright than Tangerine, overall a golden retriever, so we got a grumpy x sunshine on our hands! Enjoy dear anon! <3

Sharp Smile

TANGERINE X M!READER

Tags: Tangerine x male!reader, implied nsfw, described nsfw, Lemon egging on his twin, sexual innuendos, pool table (ever since TGM there's something so sexual abt it idk), dom!Reader, golden-retriever!Reader, meet-cute (maybe?), escort!fic, fluff, fluff and smut

Tangerine and Lemon do yet ANOTHER escort mission after the disaster in Japan, but this time, Tangerine meets a boy too interesting to let him off his leash. 

—

3rd POV

"Who's the bloke anyway? Need’n an escort and all,"

"Well from what the file says, mans an important relative to some mob boss in Belgium. The guys inviting his family over for some gathering' i think? And were tasked with keepin' em' safe,"

"Better not be like that fuckin' white deaths kid again," 

"Nah man, we're only pickin' up the guy from the station, over to a private airway, and off we go in a fancy jet flyin' over the Atlantic Ocean,"

Tangerine huffs, his eyes scanning the crowd as it filters out of the train station. He rubs at the scar on the left of his neck, which finally healed enough for him to not feel self-conscious and wear a turtleneck, especially not around mid-July in America. He and Lemon stand just out of reach from their car, both looking around for their package. 

"Oh! Speak of that devil," Lemon grins, suddenly he whistles loudly. "Oi! Over here!"

The man in question turns. Tangerine felt like an atomic bomb went off in his chest. 

His hair was neatly swept back, a gray suit in place with a dark coat, and a devastating smile as he waves and approaches the twins. As he makes his way closer, Tangerine notices the extra inches he had on him. Not enough to make his neck crane but enough to grow the number of butterflies in Tangerine's stomach. 

"Tangerine and Lemon, right?" He smiles, pointing between the two. 

"That's right mate, pleasure to meet ya'," Lemon shakes his hand. "I'm Lemon," Tangerine spots a sliver of skin with small scars littered on them, he wonders if he could count them all.

"Oh I'm not supposed to tell you guys my real name, right, privacy purposes and all that," He pauses as if recalling something. "My uncle told me my codename is 'Wolf' so just-"

"Yeah, that'll do mate," Lemon nods.

"And you must be…" Wolf extends his hand in front of Tangerine, whose eyes are still glued to the man's perfect structure. Lemon rolls his eyes, elbowing his twin and pretends to cough, finally regaining Tan's focus.

"Right yea- Tangerine," He succeeds with minimal voice cracks.

"Tangerine," Wolf smiles. "Please to meet you,"

"Yeah sure," Tangerine says all too fast. He quickly turns to grab Wolf's luggage and bumps Lemon. "Come on then, I don't wanna waste another fucken' hour in this place,"

Soon enough, the three are flying through the highway in their Range Rover, courtesy of the rich boss that wants nothing less for their relative. Lemon drives while Tangerine sits shotgun, Wolf scrolling through his phone in the back seat. 

Something about the man interests Tangerine; and no it's not just the good looks and the slightly windswept hair from the man's train ride and from when he pulled his head out of the car like a fucking dog until he had to nag at him about his safety and his face dropped and pouted—No it really isn't that. For someone to reach Tangerines radar, they had to pique his interest in a specific way. Usually, he'd go for a man that's a couple of years older than him in age, maybe a gentleman with experience just so he can relish the feeling of being a pillow princess, or a person that's so reserved, so mysterious, he finds the thrill of getting to know them better. That, or his enemies—because he likes taunting them okay?

But Wolf, this man, kid even; judging from the way he's thoroughly engaged in a discussion about Thomas the tank engine with Lemon, there's nothing to be picked apart from him. To put it simply; Wolf is just another work from another rich geezer that's too careful about their precious relatives and has too much time on his hands. 

Tangerine glances at the rearview mirror when Wolf exhausts himself from the animated conversation with Lemon. The man is now looking out the window, his eyes trained on the road. Until he suddenly turned and their eyes met. Wolf smiles. It's bright and warm, and it scares Tangerine a little how sincere it is. Tangerine breaks eye contact, quickly looking out of his own window, cheeks tinted red slightly.

The group stopped for gas, Lemon leaving the two to go use the toilet and buy them snacks. Wolf suddenly peaked from between the front seats. 

"Hey, Tan?" He jumps, suddenly hearing his voice so close to him.

"Fuck- Yeah?" Wolf chuckles.

"Have you ever been to Belgium?" The man asks, tilting his head, his blinding smile in place.

"Sure I've been, was on a mission with Lemon there once,"

"Really? Have you ever been to Bruges then?"

"Uhm, no don't think so," Wolf grins impossibly wider if that was even possible. Tangerine should've brought his sunglasses. 

"From what my uncle told me, it's the most romantic city in Belgium," his eyes glinted slightly. "I think I'd like to take someone there one day,"

"Well whoever that would be one lucky bird,"

"Oh I'm sure he is," Wolf sneaks a wink before he slinks back into his seat, leaving Tangerine into his own spiraling thoughts. A steady red slowly blooms on the merc's cheeks, he quickly looks out the window to see his twin walking back to the car. He sighs in relief.

When they finally arrive at the private runway, Lemon and Tangerine carry Wolf's luggage while the man carries his day bag into the jet. The twin notices the size of the plane, slightly roomier and bigger than a normal private jet. While the exterior is sleek black, the inside is a luxurious beige and white, complemented with accents of mahogany brown on the side of the seats.

"There's a bar at the back, and after that should be the bedroom and bathroom," 

"Bloody hell it's a whole house 'ere," 

Lemon's statement makes Wolf giggle as he sets his bag on one of the seats. "You boys get comfortable, it's a long 9-hour flight," 

The seats were divided into groups of four and two, with a table separating each group. Wolf dropped his bag on one of the fours and so Lemon and Tangerine sat opposite him. The light to buckle in turns on the group braces for take-off. 

It was irrational to have a fear of flight when your literal work was taking heads off of people but Tangerine does, so fuck him. While Lemon took notice of how fast they went on the runway, Tangerine had nowhere to look beside the inside of the plane. He frowns slightly, only to choke when he spots how Wolf was sitting. He doesn't remember the man taking off his coat but it's nowhere near his body, instead, the vest pressed perfectly on broad shoulders and chest, the column of his neck prominent as he rests his head back. The brit swore under his breath, suddenly too keen on looking anywhere but at Wolf.

The captain announces that they are steady in the air and passengers are free to roam. Wolf was the first to stand, eager to leave the sitting room.

Wolf made his way behind the twins and opened a door, leading to the bar. The twins follow, taking in the spacious room with a pool table in the middle, a couch next to it, and a bar on the far end. He slides behind the counter, already scouring the vast choices of alcohol and non-alcohol. "Fancy a drink, boys?" 

"I'll take Scotch," Lemon has already made his way to the island, taking a seat.

"Buboun for me," Tangerine mimics his brother, though he gravitates towards the seat closest to Wolf. The man nods, fishing for the bottles and glasses. 

"Here we are gentlemen, enjoy," He gives Lemon his drink, then Tangerines, placing the glass with a wink before he sips on his. Tangerine had to scoff in order to hide the annoying blush it spurred.

"Does the pool actually work or is it jus' for show?" Tangerine asks in order to avert Wolf's gaze from him. The man perks and skids out from behind the bar.

"In fact, it does," He picks a pool cue. "Want a round, Tangerine?" Wolf purrs, his smirk sharpens. 

That voice is gonna be the death of me. "Sure, see how well you can take me,"

"Oh you're on, darling," 

After an hour and a half, a couple of drinks later, and enough inappropriate innuendos throughout the game to make Lemon cackle while Tangerine tries to contain his growing infatuation—and arousal, but he wouldn't admit that. Wolf, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. His arm would brush with Tangerine, making the man shiver slightly. He would lean too close, enough to feel the warmth from the agent. When he aims to hit a ball he would bend over enough to accentuate the curve of his ass and would hear a curse under Tangerine's breath, he smirks. 

When they realize the sky has turned a subtle violet, hints of orange peeking through the clouds, they've settled down into the couch and into a comfortable silence. They left around midday from the runway, should the flight go well then they would arrive in Belgium at night. 

"Well, I'm gonna go change, I'm having dinner once I arrive there," Wolf stands, leaving his empty glass at the far end of the bar. "You two can tidy up, or whatever you please," 

And with that he enters the designated bedroom, door clicks shut. Tangerine realizes he's left it unlocked. 

"Mate," 

"What?" The brunette answers, a little too harsh for Lemon's level look.

"You fancy him-"

"No i do not-"

"Quit lyin' mate!"

"Am not! God," Tangerine melts into his seat. "He's just…"

"Just? Bruv, come one," Lemon sat up straight, his arms propped on his legs, and regarded his twin with serious eyes. "Throughout the whole day, you've been lookin' at him like he hung the moon," Tangerine scoffs at that. "That, or, you've been trying to fucken' shag him all day,"

"Fucken hell…" The worst part is that his twin was right, he was trying to get into Wolf's pants. Not that he's not interested in Wolf as himself, no, in fact, he's also trying to suppress the idea of going on a midday stroll around Burgess with the man. No, Tangerine was infatuated, to a mission no less.

Just then, a thud came from the bedroom, followed by a series of muffled curses, then oddly enough, silence. Tangerine and Lemon shared a look, the younger already reaching into the gun in his coat.

"I'll check," Lemon only nods as he lets his twin approach the room. 

"Tangerine!" Wolf suddenly calls. The air of tension dissipates. "Uh, sorry, can you come in for a second?"

Tangerine sighs, putting away his brass knuckles. "Be right there!" He shrugs when Lemon raises a brow. 

Tangerine curtly knocks twice, before he slowly pushes the door open. "Wolf?"

"Oh just the man I'm looking for," 

The man turns, dress shirt unbuttoned, exposing built chest enough to make a man salivate. His hair is slightly damp, from a shower or face wash Tangerine doesn't know. The man is fiddling with something on his wrists, but the agent is too distracted by the expanse of Wolves chest to realize he's is offering his hand to a gaping Tangerine

"Do you know how to work these? I can't seem to get them around," The object in question is a golden cufflink. Tangerine blanks, then he blinks, looks up at Wolf before looking back down to the link.

"Cufflinks? Really bruv,"

"Well these are new! I don't know how to…" His face scrunches up, before shrugging his shoulders. Wolf's cheeks beam a hint of red. Tangerine bites the urge to kiss them. "I don't know," Wolf sighs.

"Come here," Tangerine huffs, pulling the man's hand closer to his chest. "These things are easy to put on, I don't understand why you couldn't do it yer’self mate,"

"Yeah well maybe I'm just not good at it,"

"Yeah like the spoiled brat you are," Wolf only laughs. 

Tangerines fully focused on the man's cuffs, letting his guard down just enough for Wolf to fully grasp the agent in front of him. The plane's bedroom isn't that big, just enough to fit a queen-sized bed and drawers built into the cabin, so the two men are slightly pushed together due to the circumstances. Wolf notes Tangerine's furrowed brow, his mustache following in his pout, and the way his hair is styled.

"Your hair…"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"It… curls," 

Tangerine falters. His hands shook slightly, finally done putting the cuffs on. In fact, his whole breath shudders. Something akin to fear, or anticipation. He's afraid to meet Wolf's eyes. 

Instead, Wolf reaches under Tangerine's chin. He should be alerted, quick to snap his arm in an unnatural manner, so bad it breaks, despite being his mission. But Tangerine lets him. Let Wolf tilt his chin up, enough until he meets the man's striking eyes. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," Tangerine whispers. He doesn't realize how close he's standing with the man, inches away from him. If he reaches out just enough he could run his fingers on the man's soft skin.

"I shouldn't either," Wolf's eyes grow darker, his gaze fleeting to the man's lips. "But…" 

Tangerines too shaky for his own good, his suave has been thrown out the plane's window. He relies on Wolf's guiding hand to bring him closer until he's breathing the same air as Wolf. His lungs ache, like taking lungfuls isn't even enough to sate the burning desire between him and Wolf. 

Their kiss is all-consuming. Tongue and teeth and reverent moving until they fall onto the bed, their breath knocked out of them, but they continue. Wolf makes room so he's on top of Tangerine's thighs, Tangerine can practically feel the heat that's so close to reaching his crotch. Wolf does something with his tongue and it takes Tangerine by surprise. He moans into the kiss, the man above him devouring the noise like a man in drought. His hands travel from Tangerine's shoulders, chest, to his hips, not demanding but holding—grounding him. Wolf is asking permission and Tangerine is willing.

"You're okay with this?" Wolf whispers when they part for air. "Is this good?" 

"Fuck yes just-" Wolf is smiling and it takes everything for Tangerine to not entwine their mouth together again, instead he wraps his arms around the man's neck, pulling slightly until his pupils dilate in surprise. "Continue, now."

Wolf grins. Tangerine realizes where he got the name from."Gladly, love,"

—

They're on the private runway in Belgium. The sky has turned dark and stars are starting to show themselves. Tangerine and Lemon are standing outside the jet, near a parked car that's designated for them as a closing for their mission. Wolf's assistant is inside the jet, getting his luggage, and so is Wolf.

Lemon has an annoyingly smug grin on his face while he leans on the car. 

Tangerine on the other hand is readjusting his collar so the hickeys won't show.

About two hours earlier, Tangerine finally managed to pry himself off of a clingy Wolf and into the lounge cabin where Lemon, to his surprise, is taking a nap on the couch. He'd half expected a raised eyebrow, maybe a teasing smirk on his brother's face yet he gets an eye full of a snoring Lemon. He huffs, retreats back into the bedroom to grab a spare blanket not wrapped around Wolf like a Caterpillar, and drapes it over his twin. 

Tangerine pours himself a drink then sits on the bar, mulling over the interaction that happened the past hour. Somehow, out of sheer luck, Wolf pounded into him and made him scream and beg before performing the best aftercare he's ever experienced in his life. They cuddled for fucks sake! And Tangerine is not a cuddler—despite what Lemon says.

How the bed didn't break or Lemon didn't come barging in thinking his brother got ambushed is beyond him. He thanked whoever bastard made the plane's bedroom soundproof. 

Tangerine runs his hand to the side of his neck tracing over bites and marks Wolf carelessly placed. It makes him shiver, something about the possessive 'mine' it gives off excites him. But he thinks, what are they? What does this mean?

He's had his fair share of honeypots in his merc life. Bedded men and women for missions or for his own relief, and yet—something is swelling inside of him. When he sees the way Wolf smiles, teasingly or sincerely with stars in his eyes as if Tangerine is the missing comet in his galaxy, or the way he laughs freely when he gives a jab about his pool skills or when he giggles. light and short from an offhand joke. The way his hand ghosts over Tangerine's body, the bruises that will surely appear on his hips, sensitive skin meets attentive fingers.

He remembers the way Wolf held his hand while he was buried deep, breathing into his ear as he grunts and moaned with each thrust. Wolf traced a careful finger in his healed scar and he asked how he got it, which Tangerine only brushed off as an accident in a mission. Then Wolf proceeds to press his lips to it. He kisses them like prayers, once and twice until he bites lightly, definitely leaving a mark before he whispers 'So you won't remember this from a mission, but from me.' Tangerine almost came then and there.

It's not just his attractiveness, but Tangerine is falling. Hard.

He's afraid of how far he'll fall for a one-time mission. 

Cut to two hours later, they've landed, Tangerine has gathered himself enough to be presentable and Wolf is still getting his luggage. 

The evening in Belgium brings a cold breeze over the runway where they've landed. Tangerine pulls at his outer coat tighter, his eyes scanning the vast concrete range until he meets Lemon standing behind him. To no one's surprise, his twin is still smirking at him, which makes Tangerine scoff and instead divert his attention to the opened Jet door. He knows Lemon is currently staring a hole on his back and he almost turns to argue with him before Wolf pops out of the jet, day bag in hand.

"There you guys are! I thought you'd left already," There's an underlying tone of relief unnoticed by Tangerine admiring the man making his way down the jet stairs.

"Nah mate, job says to escort ya' til yer' safe, right?" Lemon hollers from behind Tangerine, making sure he's loud enough to beat the wind and test his twin's patience.

Wolf laughs and nods, mumbles something too quiet for the harsh wind, until his assistant makes their way out of the jet. The man turns, regards the person in the crisp suit, before they take his day bag and into the car that'll take Wolf off of the twins' hands. Tangerine half thought that'll be it, Wolf would wave them goodbye from the car door and zoom off, never meeting Tangerine again. Instead, the man makes his way past him and to Lemon.

"Thanks so much for keeping me safe," Wolf places a stray lock behind his ear as the wind picks up, making his hair wave around. 

"Part of the job bruv," Lemon shrugs. "You take care though, thanks for the jet ride," 

"Of course," Wolf chuckles. Tangerine almost lost his eyes with the way he stared in shock as Wolf pulled his twin into a hug. Lemon, the 'people's person' he is, patted the man's back firmly before they let go. They shared a brief conversation that Tangerine couldn't catch.

But Lemon laughs, patting Wolf's arm and he laughs too, before Lemons stares at Tangerine's confused look and laughs again. His twin only gets more confused from their interaction.

Finally, Wolf walks over to Tangerine, his blinding smile in place. Tangerine thinks he can get drunk on just seeing them.

"Tangerine," He regards, righting another stray hair.

"Wolf," Tangerine nods. He's conscious of how his curls look, definitely messier than Wolf's hair.

"I guess this is it," 

"It is,"

"You'll…" Wolf inhales. His heart drums. "You and Lemon will get your payment. Thanks for taking care of me," 

"Yeah," The merc swallows. "Y-yeah o'course,"

Tangerine is already leaning into Wolf before he knew it, the man opening his arms and accepting Tangerine's crushing weight. His hands claws on Wolf's pristine jacket, gripping and tugging just to take an ounce of Wolf with him. Wolf isn't any different from Tangerine—He's trying to gather the merc into his arms, to engulf him fully, feeling the warmth of his body the way they held each other in the plane. 

They pull apart. If Tangerine's eyes are not playing tricks on him he swore he saw Wolf's eyes shake. 

"I'll miss you," Wolf's voice wavers. Tangerine swallows around a lump.

"Yeah," He nods. He's afraid any other word would break his restraints. 

When Tangerine thought Wolf would walk past away, leaving him fully and into his car, instead the man pulled Tangerine close again, his breath against his ear.

"You know where to find me," Then suddenly he sobers up and smiles. Tangerine stares in complete confusion.

"This should cover everything, use it as you want." 

"What…?" 

Wolf pushes a sleek black card onto Tangerine's palm. Upon realizing, Tangerine sputters then stares at Wolf. "Are you insane?!" He shouts.

"For you? Maybe," He jokes, already running towards his car and assistant. "I'll see you later, Tangerine," He winks, one leg already in the black Chevy. 

"Oi you git! We can't-" 

And he's off. Tangerine stands in disbelief, his eyes wide, hair now fully out of place. The merc feels relief and excitement but he can't hide the slight disappointment of never seeing Wolf again. Or so he thought. 

"Hey, what's that peeking out your back?" Lemon points from behind him. Tangerine raises a brow. He reaches into his back pockets, before he feels a piece of paper, clearly out of place. 

Tangerine pulls it out and begins to read it. He squints from the minimal light, trying to make out the words, until he recoils because he didn't read words, he read digits.

Wolf gave him his number. Personal number if he judges from the note above saying 'Call me'. 

"That bloody… madman," Tangerine sighs. He follows the dimming backlights of the chevy before it exits the runway area, into the night to god knows where.

"Well, looks like you got yer'self a good man,"

"God i hope so," He exhales. He can only pray that Wolf would call back and be the gentleman he might be because Tangerine is gone for him, and it's gonna be one hell of a trip to get back down.

Lemon cackles, he shakes his head then makes his way into their car. Tangerine blinks away the afterimage before he joins his twin.

"Is that a fucken' black card?" Lemon stares incredulously at the card on Tangerine's palm, now it's his turn to laugh.

"Mate," He turns to the shocked Lemon. "Let's have fun in Belgium," He grins.

Requests are open! <3

[big-sib-graverot]

Mornin' Aandy~ Technically really early morning if this takes like, over an hour to write out, but early bird gets the worm yaknow?~

How'd you sleep? If I do fall asleep, I'd say it'd at least be a solid 6/10, maybe a 7 on a good day, but we all can't be winners~!

How ya feelin? You took care of yourself? Made your bed and get food or whatevs? I'm usually not like... a big stickler for these things, but I did check ins in the past, soo.. why not? Plus, I know you'll forget to do basic life things because you're too busy gaming or in your dumb relationships or talking with family or school, something that isn't me, so you need me to remind you! Because I'm simply the best ~ ♡

We'll probably be on the road in the mornin', or at night, who knows, but the place mom's bf rented is.. meh. At best. Not anything 5 star, and the beach was less (glass and cigs in the sand, having to rent to sit somewhere, and the water was brown. The seagulls were an inconvenience too.), but I'll try not to be so stingy, even though I should be when I deserve to be spoiled... I just dunno why he couldn't book a hotel for a weekend, I mean, we'd be leaving anyway! Whatevs. Thankfully momma is choosing the next vacation spot in July, so hope that'll be better.

Ooh, I'm so excited to see my pup again! We left her home alone the entire weekend, she must be so lonely and scared without me! I wanna give her extra love when I get home! She'd been a good girl, I know it! She's so cute and sweet and fluffy, I was worried sick about her, too..

And thankfully, the brat'll be sent home too! Thank fuck, because I was on the verge of just beating him up! What if I beat him up so hard he'd die and we could eat em~? That'd be fun, riiight?

Annywaaay, I'm glad you finally found out how much I want you! I was so close to just.. spelling it out, but you figured it out, I'm so proud of yoou! Mwwah! You're the smartest, Anndy~!

Annyways!! I don't want Tumblr to limit me, so I'll leave it here~ I love you, Andy! I love you so so so sooo much! Kayy? <33

– LeyLey. 🩷

Answering this now because I can't sleep.

Sounds like you had a shit vacation. I would've spoiled you to death, LeyLey.

You didn't get hurt by that glass or anything right?

If you did I'll cut up who ever put it there.

Also I'd prefer not to eat anymore people.

At least the ones you cook anyways.

Also, Hey! I do basic things!

I did skip lunch because I was gaming..

But that's irrelevant.

I bet your dog was a very good girl though! She deserves lots of pets when you do end up getting home.

And I love you too LeyLey. ♡

[ferigrieving]

Hello, could you possibly write a osamu miya x reader fic, but could the reader be rather quiet, reserved but not shy (if that makes sense) has hard time expressing themselves/their emotions, like quite bad at feelings? (And could the characters just be asexual please?) Anyway, I really like your work, it's always great and fun! Hope you have a nice day

the unseen.

⊹ ࣪ in which some things are beyond words

⤷ masterlist ; requests open

the aroma of freshly made onigiri filled the cosy, bustling shop as the morning sun cast a warm glow through the windows of onigiri miya. the steady hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes provided a comforting backdrop to the day's activities. 

at the heart of this scene was you, and osamu, both former members of the inarizaki volleyball team. behind the counter, quietly working with unwavering dedication, was you, osamu's reserved yet reliable assistant. while osamu thrived in the spotlight, greeting customers with a smile and effortlessly engaging in conversation, you preferred the solitude of the kitchen. your meticulous attention to detail ensured that every onigiri was crafted to perfection, and your organisational skills kept the shop running smoothly, even during the busiest hours.

despite osamu’s attempts to draw you into the vibrant energy of the front-of-house, you remained a quiet, enigmatic presence. you weren't shy, but expressing your emotions was a challenge, and you found comfort in the predictability of your routines. atsumu often fondly made fun of you for your tendency to only speak when spoken to, answering in short, clipped sentences.

“yo, we’re outta rice. ‘m gonna run by the store and get s’more. ‘kay?”

osamu noticed the flicker of reluctance in your eyes, but he couldn't help but tease you a bit. with an amused expression, he leaned against the counter, a playful glint in his eyes.

"whatcha lookin' so nervous about? customers don't bite, y'know,” he chuckled, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

you took a deep breath, attempting to hide your unease. the mere thought of stepping out into the spotlight made your palms clammy, but you knew there was no avoiding it when osamu left.

"i…i just prefer being in the kitchen," you mumbled, your eyes darting to the floor, unable to meet osamu’s gaze. “what if one of the customers speak english? i’ll start crying.”

seeing the genuine concern on your face, osamu softened his playful demeanour a bit. he knew your struggles with social interactions all too well. he smirked, knowing all too well about your anxiety talking to strangers.

"now, now," he reassured with a comforting smile, "most customers speak japanese just fine. but hey," he joked "if they try speakin’ english at you, tell ‘em you charge extra for that service," he winked playfully.

you rolled your eyes and nudged him out of the restaurant, desperate to get this ordeal over with.

osamu chuckled at your eye-roll, knowing he got under your skin. he playfully ruffled your hair as he turned towards the door.

"aight, aight," he said, grabbing his wallet from the counter. "i'll be back in a bit. you just keep makin' that magic in the kitchen. and hey…” he paused, a sly grin on his face. "try not to scare off any customers, will ya?"

with that, osamu stepped out of the shop, leaving you alone to deal with any potential customers. the sound of the door closing echoed in your ears, making you more aware of the sudden silence in the shop. 

the sound of the rice cooker bubbling quietly in the kitchen provided some sense of comfort, but you couldn't shake off the butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the prospect of dealing with people. 

deep breaths.

‘welcome to onigiri miya’ you had given up trying to force yourself to speak after one failed attempt with a very bright-eyed foreigner. your phone chirped with the robotic text to speech bot again, and again, after customers entered the store. you would've liked to say you were in the kitchen working on onigiri, but in all honesty, you were trying not to throw up the miso soup you just had for breakfast.

several customers entered, browsing through the display of onigiri with quiet interest. some nodded in acknowledgment as the text-to-speech bot greeted them, but others didn't seem to notice the oddity at first.

one middle-aged woman, holding a small child by the hand, approached the counter with a friendly smile. upon hearing the robotic voice, her expression shifted to a perplexed, almost amused look.

"um.. excuse me," the customer began, her voice laced with curiosity. "is there someone actually here?"

the child tugged at her sleeve, looking at the empty counter where the voice seemed to come from, curious about the unfamiliar sound.

you peeked your head out of the kitchen, bowing in apology. 'what would you like, ma'am?’ you typed into your phone, the voice springing to life.

the customer relaxed visibly upon seeing you, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. her eyes widened momentarily as she realised the situation but she chuckled softly, her previous apprehension replaced by amusement.

"oh, there you are!" she chuckled, her eyes flicking between you and the robot. "i was a little caught off guard by the voice. i've never encountered that before."

the child, now also fixated on the ‘robot’, pointed towards it with a curious expression.

'my apologies. i have trouble speaking. what would you like today?’

the customer’s smile softened, a glint of understanding in her eyes. she turned her attention to the display of onigiri, contemplating what to order. her hand gently guiding her child to observe the variety as well.

"oh, don't worry about it. it's quite unique," she replied, still chuckling softly. "I'll take three salmon onigiri, please. and two green teas"

‘dine in or takeout?’

the customer considered the question for a moment, glancing around the shop. "dine in, please. my daughter loves eating here."

the little girl in her care was still watching you type away at your phone, her gaze flicking between it and you, her curiosity clearly piqued.

you nodded, placing her meticulously one after another on a bamboo tray, along with a few tissues, and handed it to her gently. ‘your tea will take a moment. i apologize. i will deliver it when it finishes. thank you for your service.’

the customer accepted the tray with a smile, appreciating the meticulous attention to detail. her daughter, still intrigued by the robot and you, tilted her head, her eyes studying you intently.

"thank you," the customer said, then turned her attention to her daughter. "say thank you, sweetheart."

the girl looked at you, then at your phone, a shy smile forming on her lips. "thank you," she said in a soft voice, gaze firmly at the floor as if she was afraid you might bite.

once you disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the tea, the mother and daughter settled into a corner booth, placing the tray on the table. the little girl was still mesmerised by the robotic voice, pointing at it and looking at her mother.

"mommy, what's that?" the girl asked, her voice filled with innocent curiosity.

the mother chuckled, gently ruffling the girl's hair. "it's just a text-to-speech bot, sweetie. it can speak for people who have difficulty speaking."

the little girl's eyes widened, a wide toothy grin spreading over her face. she pointed at where you were just moments ago, a hint of wonderment in her expression.

"wow...it's like magic!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with awe. "can it talk forever?"

the mother smiled softly, amused by her daughter's curiosity. "no, sweetie. it's not magic," she explained. "someone is using it to talk for them. it's just a helpful tool."

you appeared out of the kitchen, bowing momentarily to the customers now lined up at the counter, and delivered the tea, setting it down on the table gently. ‘its hot.’

the girl's mind seemed to be buzzing with questions. she looked at the phone, then at you, who was trying very, very hard to smile.

"are they magic?" the girl asked, pointing at you.

the mother chuckled softly again, shaking her head gently. "no, dear. they’re just like any other person. they just have a hard time speaking, so they use the robot to help them communicate."

the girl's innocent wonder didn’t fade, her eyes shifting back and forth between you and the robot. she leaned closer to her mother, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"why can't they talk like everyone else?" she asked, curiosity seeping through every word.

the mother paused for a moment, choosing her words delicately.

"well," she began, her tone gentle. "they have a difficulty speaking. it's like some people have a hard time reading, or some people have a hard time walking. everyone is different, and they have trouble using his own voice."

as you began dealing with other customers, ordering them and preparing their food, you noticed the little girl in the corner booth observing you closely. her mother, sipping her tea and idly chatting with other customers, occasionally had to redirect her daughter's attention.

the text -to-speech voice, though monotonous, echoed through the shop, helping you communicate with the customers as best it could. some regular customers raised their eyebrows at the robotic voice but quickly adapted, seemingly understanding the situation.

the morning bustle continued steadily, the shop filled with various customers. the little girl in the booth, now engrossed in a colouring book, couldn't help but occasionally glance your way, her curiosity not wanned.

every now and then, the text-to-speech bot would chime in, its synthetic voice providing assistance and maintaining a sense of normalcy in the otherwise unusual interaction.

‘welcome to onigiri miya, what can i get you?’

a young man in a business suit approached the counter, perusing the display of onigiri. he appeared somewhat distracted, checking his watch as he spoke.

"can i get a tuna mayo and a salmon onigiri, please?" he requested, a slight impatience in his tone.

‘for dine in or takeout? and any drinks, sir?’

the man briefly paused, glancing at the watch again. "takeout. just the onigiri, no drinks. i'm in a hurry," he replied, tapping his foot impatiently.

you nodded, and as you placed the onigiri in the bag, misfortune struck. one of the onigiri unravelled, its contents spilling onto the counter and floor. you cursed under your breath, scrambling to clean up the mess as quickly as possible.

the man, now even more impatient, let out a frustrated sigh, leaned against the counter to look down on you. you felt like a caged animal, and you wondered how osamu did this for hours a day.

"come on, hurry up," he urged, his impatience growing. the spilled onigiri had only added to his sense of urgency, exacerbating his already rushed demeanour.

you did your best to clean up the mess, your frustration visible despite your efforts to remain composed. the man's eyes flicked between you and the door, his body language exuding annoyance.

the man's irritation was palpable, and his rushed demeanour made it seem like the spilled onigiri had personally wronged him. his lips were pressed together in a tight line, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

"how hard is it to put onigiri in a bag without making a mess? seriously," he complained, shaking his head.

you didn't have time to type a response on the phone, so you kept your mouth shut and cleaned up your mess, kicking it into a corner. standing up straight, you tried again, and placed the man’s order in a takeout bag, handing it to him without making eye contact.

the second attempt was more successful, but the man's impatience hung heavily in the air like a thick fog. he took the bag from you, his fingers twitching anxiously, as if he was itching to leave.

"can't believe this is taking so long," he muttered under his breath, checking his watch yet again. "i'm going to be late for my next meeting."

his words stung, his annoyance and lack of understanding for your struggle evident in his tone. he reached into his pocket and handed you the money for the onigiri, his expression still marred with irritation.

"keep the change," he muttered, before turning on his heel and heading out the door, leaving a palpable aura of annoyance in his wake.

with the onigiri bag now in hand, the man gave you a frustrated glance before heading out of the shop. the door jingled as he exited the store, muttering something about ‘incompetent people’, before you watched your saviour walk in, balancing three bags of rice in his arms.

osamu miya. entered the shop, his arms laden with bags of rice, his usual confident demeanour intact. he noticed you standing behind the counter, a tired expression on your face. He knew you had been dealing with customers, and from the looks of it, not all of them were kind.

"look like you've been keepin' yourself busy," he commented, a playful glint in his eyes as he placed the bags of rice on the counter.

you flipped him off and retreated back into the kitchen, taking a breather, or three.

osamu chuckled as you flipped him off, a playful smirk on his face. he knew you well enough to understand when you were in a bad mood.

"love you too," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcastic affection. you started unpacking the bags of rice, organising them near the kitchen, while osamu dealt with the customers that were waiting.

the bell over the shop door chimed as more customers entered, their voices filling the air with a mixture of pleasant chatter and orders. osamu greeted them with his usual warm smile, his social skills immediately putting them at ease.

while dealing with some customers, he snuck glances in your direction every now and then. he could sense the cloud over your head and knew he'd have to deal with it at some point.

despite your less-than-pleasant mood, you focused on your task of refilling the onigiri. your hands moved with practised precision, restocking the display with haste.

time seemed to blur together as you worked, restocking and re-arranging onigiri. the hum of conversation and chiming bell filled the background, but you were deeply focused on your task at hand.

osamu, meanwhile, managed the front of the shop, dealing with customers and ensuring everything ran smoothly. despite the chaos outside, he always made time to check in on you, often returning with a look that said, 'you doin' alright?'

as you continued your work, osamu's attempts to check on you and gauge your mood went unanswered. you remained stoic.

the lack of response from you didn't deter osamu, though. he knew you well enough to understand that when you were in a bad mood, you preferred to retreat into your own world for a while. He respected your space, but he continued to throw glances your way, wondering how long you'd keep up the silent treatment.

after what seemed like an eternity of customers, restocking, and managing the shop, the workday finally drew to a close. the setting sun cast a warm glow through the windows, signalling the end of another busy day.

osamu locked the door, flipping the sign to 'closed' before making his way over to you. he leaned against the counter, his eyes studying your face, trying to gauge your current state.

the silence between you was thick, the only sound being the faint hum of the shop's neon lights. osamu waited a moment, giving you the space to break the silence in your own time, but your stoicism persisted.

he sighed lightly, his gaze never leaving your face. "you gonna talk to me or just keep ignorin' me forever?"

“sorry.”

osamu's expression softened at your unexpected apology. he couldn't help but crack a smile, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

"there we go," he said, leaning against the counter casually. "was startin' to think you were gonna give me the silent treatment all night."

he paused for a moment, studying your face. even though you had apologised, he could tell that something was still bothering you.

"so, wanna tell me what's eatin' ya? or are we just gonna keep playin' this silent game?" he asked, his tone a bit lighter this time.

“just overreactin’. had a bad customer. howdja deal with that all the time?”

osamu chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly. 

"well, it ain't easy. you gotta remember, not everyone is gonna be nice. some days, you'll deal with nothin' but assholes. but," he shrugged, a hint of resignation in his expression. "you learn to deal with it. just gotta let it roll off ya, y'know?"

“mm. dinner?”

osamu's expression brightened at the mention of dinner. 

"hell yeah. i'm starvin'."

he pushed himself away from the counter, stretching his arms above his head, a satisfied grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"how about somethin' quick and easy?" he suggested, raising an eyebrow. "like some good ol' fried rice?"

“egg fried rice?”

osamu's grin widened at the mention of egg fried rice. 

"oh, now you're speaking my language," he chuckled, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "hell yeah, let's make some egg fried rice. nothin' beats a good fried rice after a shitty day."

“long as yer cookin’”

osamu chuckled again, clearly amused by your response.

"yeah, yeah, just leave it to me," he teased, pushing off the counter and walking towards the kitchen. "you just go sit down and relax or somethin', i'll handle the cooking."

as he entered the kitchen, osamu began gathering the ingredients he needed: leftover rice, eggs, vegetables, soy sauce, and spices. he hummed softly to himself as he worked, clearly in his element in the kitchen.

as you sat down at the bar, placing your head on the cool surface, you could hear the muffled sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen. the clattering of pans, the sizzle of oil, and the occasional whistle of the stove all combined to create a familiar and comforting symphony.

osamu's steady presence in the kitchen exuded a sense of routine and normalcy, like a soothing balm after the rocky day you'd both had.

after a few minutes, the sounds of cooking died down, and osamu emerged from the kitchen, carrying two bowls filled with steaming hot egg fried rice.

"alright, it's ready," he announced, placing one bowl in front of you before taking a seat beside you at the bar. "tada, egg fried rice, courtesy of yours truly."

“‘s it poisoned?”

osamu chuckled softly at your playful comment, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

"ha-ha, very funny," he replied, nudging you lightly. "no, smartass, it's not poisoned. i may be known for some questionable culinary choices, but i wouldn't stoop that low."

“sure.”

osamu let out a hearty laugh, clearly enjoying the banter. 

"oh, you have so little faith in me," he teased, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "well, you're welcome to taste it first if you're that concerned. i promise, it's just eggs, rice, and veggies. nothin' sketchy."

he gestured towards the bowl in front of you, a playful grin still lingering on his face. "go on, take a bite. let me know if i've managed to poison you with my cooking skills."

with a playful look in his eyes, osamu waited for your response. he knew you were just teasing him, but he played along, enjoying the lighthearted banter between the two of you.

you rolled your eyes and took a bite, a dramatic 'mm mm' escaping your lips. it was good, of course. you don't remember osamu ever making something bad. you doubt he was even capable of it.

osamu chuckled softly at your exaggerated reaction, clearly amused by your theatrical display.

"good, ain't it?" he said, a proud smile on his face. "i told you, i aint no poisoner. just a damn good cook."

he took another bite of his own fried rice, the satisfied expression on his face a dead giveaway that he was enjoying the meal.

"so, still think i spiked it with somethin' nasty?"

“guess not. thanks for dinner, ‘samu.”

osamu beamed at your compliment, clearly pleased that you appreciated his cooking. he gave you a playful nudge with his elbow.

"of course, anytime. gotta make sure my sweetheart is fed," he replied, his tone teasing. "i'll take any chance i can get to show off my stellar kitchen skills."

he continued eating his own bowl of fried rice, occasionally glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. there was a sense of contentment in the air, the tension from earlier dissipating as you both savoured the hearty meal.

as the evening wore on, the two of you chatted comfortably, sharing stories and laughter. the kitchen, once a place of silent dedication and unspoken emotions, now felt warm and alive with the easy camaraderie you had developed.

finally, with the last bite of fried rice, you set your bowl down and stretched. osamu mirrored your movements, his smile never wavering.

"you know," he said, his voice softening, "i really appreciate everything you do here. onigiri miya wouldn't be the same without you."

you felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and though expressing emotions was still a challenge, you managed a genuine smile. "thanks, osamu. that means a lot."

standing up, osamu began clearing the table. "how about we make this a regular thing? dinner together after closing? i promise to keep impressing you with my cooking."

"sure," you agreed, feeling a sense of happiness that you rarely allowed yourself to acknowledge. "i'd like that."

as you both cleaned up the kitchen, a comfortable silence settled between you, filled with mutual respect and a growing sense of understanding. the bond you shared had grown stronger, built not just on the delicious food you created together, but on the unspoken connection that had always been there, waiting to be discovered.

[laurenairay]

By Your Side - T. Seguin

Summary: Tyler organises a birthday surprise for you.

Word count:��1.2k

Warnings: None

A/N: Happy birthday @texanstarslove​! When I found out it was your birthday today Em, I had to write a little something – so here’s a sweet little Tyler fic for you! Have the most wonderful day darling 💙

*

“Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to my baby,

Happy birthday to you!”

You laughed at the sight of your boyfriend’s video message, all three dogs competing to look at the screen too at the sound of their dad’s off-key singing. Not having Tyler by your side today was hard, harder than you thought it would be, but seeing his goofy face unashamedly singing from his hotel bed eased the ache in your heart, just that little bit.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there today babe, but I love you and I can’t wait to celebrate with you when I’m back!” Tyler said with a soft grin, “happy birthday!”

The video ended with him blowing a kiss at the camera, only making you smile even more. What an absolute sweetheart. This wasn’t the first birthday you’d spent without him, and you doubted it would be your last, but having the boys by your side and Tyler’s adorable birthday video on your phone made things that little bit easier.

You knew what you’d signed up for when you started dating Tyler Seguin.

Despite Tyler not being here today, it didn’t mean you were going to sit at home and mope, oh no. You had presents to open, naturally, after you made yourself a treat breakfast of waffles and blueberries, and then a birthday lunch at a little café near your mom’s place, where you’d meet your parents for a few hours and enjoy the sunshine, taking the dogs with you too. Tonight you had plans with a few friends for dinner and drinks, some of them bringing their partners while some were single, so it would be a good mixed group. To be honest, if Tyler couldn’t be by your side then this was the next best thing – he would’ve come along with you anyway to both of these events, so you knew it would’ve been great either way.

And today was going to be great – you’d make sure of it. It was your birthday, after all, and you were going to celebrate.

*

Spending time with your parents was a rarity, and having lunch with them to celebrate your birthday had been exactly what you needed. That, and the dogs had been given all the extra fuss they loved – your parents adored Marshall, Cash, and Gerry as much as you did – so they were snoozing beside you on the sofa while you answered birthday messages on your phone. It was a brief respite of peace and quiet for a few hours before you needed to start getting ready, and you were basking in it while you could. A little downtime was always good, right?

Then your phone buzzed with your favourite name, Tyler 💖, and you wasted no time in opening the message.

~

From: Tyler 💖

Look out the window!

~

You frowned down at the message, not understanding, but after reading it a second time, you gave into your curiosity and stood up from the sofa. Only Gerry followed you to the window, Cash and Marshall half-heartedly watching from their comfy spots, but what you saw made you freeze.

There, in the middle of the driveway, stood a figure holding a bunch of flowers, a big balloon and a large hand-drawn sign saying ‘Happy Birthday! 💖’…Tyler?

Without a second’s hesitation, you ran to the front door and threw it open, running out to greet him properly, Gerry’s barking alerting the other two dogs to come out too. What the hell? What the actual hell? How was he here? He wasn’t meant to be back until tomorrow!

“Okay, okay, down! Yes daddy loves you too!”

You snapped out of your shock at Tyler’s laughter, and looked at where he was kneeling on the ground, having dropped the sign to give the dogs the attention they were craving.

“Ty?” you murmured.

He was here?

He was really here?

“Hey baby,” he grinned, standing upright again.

The dogs wandered back inside as Tyler walked over to you, and you took the balloon and bouquet that he offered you without a word.

“Surprise?” he said, smiling at little sheepishly.

“I…I can’t believe you’re really here,” you breathed.

“I took an earlier flight – there was no way I wasn’t going to give my girl a kiss on her birthday,” Tyler shrugged.

“You…I…what?” you said, still a little in shock.

“I did say that I couldn’t wait to celebrate with you when I was back, not when I would be back,” Tyler grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

That was very true, the sneak…but still, what? Then again, if anyone was going to fly home early to surprise someone, it was Tyler. And you were the lucky person that got to experience that. Damn, he was really here. He’d really made the effort to fly home early, separate from his team, just to see you on your birthday? How was this real life?

“You’re ridiculous,” you said fondly.

“Too ridiculous?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Never,” you said quickly, smiling sweetly, “now, you said something about a birthday kiss?”

Tyler’s hesitance eased into a warm smile and he wasted no time in cupping your face with both hands, leaning down to kiss you softly. You all but melted into his body, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist, trying not to drop the balloon and flowers you still held in your hand. But he kept the embrace soft, and slow, and sweet, sending your heartbeat racing as the gentle kiss deepened it’s intensity. The things this man did to you.

Eventually he slowed the kiss down to a few soft pecks, resting his forehead against yours briefly.

“Damn baby,” he murmured, “are you sure it’s not my birthday?”

You tilted your head back and laughed, one of Tyler’s hands moving to rest against your waist, warming the skin easily, the thumb of the other hand stroking over your cheekbone.

“Hmm, let’s go inside before we give the neighbours a show,” you teased in a murmur, willing yourself desperately to cool down a little bit.

Now it was Tyler’s turn to laugh against your lips, pecking them with a gentle kiss one last time before he dropped his hands back to his side.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got a few hours to fill before your birthday dinner, right?” he grinned, “I think I’ve got some good ideas on how to spend the time.”

Of course your friends were in on his surprise plans. Not that you were complaining. A familiar heat rushed through your body at his implication, your breath hitching in your throat, and you knew that Tyler noticed. Well, two can play that game.

“I’ve got an idea or two of my own,” you said simply, walking backwards towards the house, “you gave me a birthday surprise – now it’s time to give you one.”

Tyler’s eyes flashed with want, and you grinned in response. That was more like it.

“Race you?” he smirked.

Oh yeah, there was no other man you wanted by your side.

[celestialrry]

stood up

3.5k

hello everyone!!!! I've been awol for literally weeks because i had absolutely NO motivation to write but i finally finished this piece ˊᗜˋ so YAY. ALSOO thank you for following me, liking, and reblogging my pieces (it encourages me somuchsothankyouireallyappreciateit-- and remember reblogging really helps us writers :))) )  here’s a hug for all ur patience and feel free to send me asks or requests i love talking to you guys! ε(♡'-')з

summary: Harry keeps standing Y/N up. (request from @ballerinrry! thank u love)

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and sex, angsty but with a happy ending cause for some reason i can never let them end on a bad note

Y/N was excited.

It had been a while since Harry had asked her to go on a date, it was always the other way around recently. She couldn’t blame him though, Y/N knew just how busy Harry always was, and it wasn’t like he was purposefully not asking her to go do things, he just had a lot on his plate.

That’s what she kept telling herself anyways. 

It’s what she told herself when it had been 2 weeks since they had even eaten a meal together, and given the fact that just a few months ago Harry had come back to London for a while, that was rare. So, Y/N asked him to grab lunch on a Saturday while they were lying in bed together, and when he agreed, but failed to show up, leaving Y/N sitting at the cafe, her lips morphed into a frown and her eyes not focusing on the phone in front of her, she told herself he was simply booked up with meetings and studio time and such. 

Thats what he told her when he got into bed that night to apologize for accidentally standing her up. She forgave him, of course, and suggested they could just get dinner the next week. He agreed, even walked around to his calander her to show her he was marking the date off in his calendar with a heart, her first initial, and 7:00 PM etched into the little box with red sharpie. 

So, the week passed with quick kisses of good mornings and good nights, and while Harry was gone Y/N had on a black dress she had been excited to wear for a while now, with those little mini silver heels and a coat strung over her shoulders as she sat on her couch waiting for Harry to swing by to pick her up. She shot him a text that simply asked “You otw? xx”

He was not.

It took about 30 minutes of waiting on their couch to realize he was standing her up, again. And it took until the next morning for Harry to see her text (his phone had been on do not disturb while he was at the studio and he ended up spending the night at Sarah and Mitch’s after a few beers), and for the guilt to seep through his veins. 

He apologized, again. And Y/N forgave him, again. 

Only until it got to the point where Y/N no longer remembered the amount of times Harry had stood her up, for being at the studio, or sleeping after a meeting, or simply just not paying attention to his phone, she knew there was a problem. 

Harry was fully aware of the problem too. He knew that this was no way to ever treat a partner, and if someone was doing this to him, he’d dump them— well, he’s never been one to end a relationship unless it was necessary, so that’s an exaggeration, but it’s the principle of the thing. 

Which is why when he got home one day around 11 PM, gave her a kiss to the forehead after she sat up in their bed to give him a hug, and a soft  ��Can we talk?” escaped her lips, he knew he had to fix this. So he asked her if they could talk over dinner the next night, he just wanted to sleep but also wanted to fix things with his girl, asking her if she was free of course, before telling her he’s gonna make a reservation at that nice restaurant the two of them used to go to quite often, because “it’s been a while since I’ve taken my favorite girl out”.

A grin broke out on her face because he had asked her! And if Harry was planning it, there’s no way he’d cancel or stand her up. 

 So yeah, Y/N was excited.

She woke up that morning with a smile on her face, and something akin to a what she thinks a rainbow would feel like running through her veins. It had only been a few months since she’d last been on a date with her boyfriend of almost 2 years and a half in person, and she was going to make the most of it. Because after this date, things would change. They’d spend more time together again and it would be like this little bump (that neither had acknowledged) never happened.

Y/N did, well, everything to prepare. Took a long shower, shaved, put on that coconut lotion Harry likes— he tended to dig his face in her neck when he smelled it while holding her—, brushed her teeth more than 3 times, dug in her closet to find that one patterned soft purple dress she bought ages ago but never had a change to wear it, until now, put on those really cute heels Harry said he liked once (“Looks like something you’d wear on a runway pet, I love ‘em.”), and even styled her hair differently than normal.

He had told her he would swing by at 8 on the dot after the studio, and soon enough, it was 8, with no sign from the man who made the promise himself. Y/N thought maybe there was traffic, he was just running late, texted him a quick, “Can’t wait to see you!! xxx” and put her phone on the coffee table, waiting on their couch. 

8 turned to 9, 9 turned to 10, 10 turned to 11, and soon it was midnight. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever felt more empty than how she felt then, walking to their shared room of a year, slipping off her heels and tossing them towards the closet, as well as pulling her dress over herself and letting it fall to the floor behind her, grabbing that one t-shirt she always wears when she needs comfort (which just happened to an extra 2018 Live on Tour shirt Harry had laying around that she snatched just 3 months into them dating), and flopping into bed.  

She couldn’t fall asleep, and instead spent her time curled up in their bedsheets, a steady flow of tears making their way down her blush covered cheeks.

。:°ஐ

Harry usually didn’t make mistakes.

Sure, he had his moments, grabbing the wrong coffee off the counter when his name was called at the cafe, forgetting to text Jeff that he actually couldn’t make it to a meeting that was scheduled in a few hours. Just little things, things that didn’t matter that much, and could always be fixed. He didn’t usually make mistakes that weren’t easy to fix. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

Until, he was.

Harry loved Y/N. He loved having her around, loved spending time with her, loved loving on her, loved kissing her, loved touching her, loved the way she went about almost everything. He was so in love with her, that hurting her was out of the question. He never wanted to be the one to make her cry, make her bottom lip quiver before the tears rushed out like he’d seen many times before, due to movies, his songs (which as sadistic as it sounds was an ego builder to have someone so close to him so affected by the music he wrote), her school work, or even her friends that weren’t being so nice.

In fact, he was so in love with her, even being so afraid of commitment (it took him over a year of them dating to ask her to move in), all he wanted to do was blurt out those 4 dreaded words. “Will you marry me?” It was a bond for life, and he was terrified of that, but with Y/N all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his living days with her.

When Harry had come back from being in L.A. for so long and finally being in the same city as his girlfriend back at their home, all they did was spend time together. Every time he saw Y/N all he wanted to do was say those 4 words that he hadn’t even fully come to terms with himself. It was dangerous, and Harry’s self control when it came to Y/N was lacking, so he simply did was every normal person would do in his situation.

He stood her up. 

Many more times than he could count, and of course he felt like the shittiest person in the world— shittiest boyfriend in the world—but at least now she can’t possibly be under the impression that he wanted to marry her, which is what he wanted. Or thought he wanted, until Sarah called him up one day after he had stood Y/N up for dinner the night before and told him off. Told Harry just how fucking terrible he made Y/N feel, how unwanted she thought she was, how she felt like they were loosing their relationship, and Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. (Of course Y/N had sobbed to Sarah about it over the phone while she was drunk off the wine she opened 40 minutes after Harry said he would be there, so she really didn’t even remember the conversation).

And later that day Harry had come home, heard her wavering voice asking if they could talk, and decided in his head he would tell her how he felt, how sorry he was, and how he wanted to be with her forever and love her forever if she allowed him. He had a few expectations for their dinner, that Y/N would probably tell him how he’s made her feel, and Harry would apologize, tell her why he did it, explain he thought it was no excuse, then tell her he plans on marrying her (obviously not proposing just yet, but finally bringing up the conversation they had never had even though they were in a serious committed relationship) and they’d go back home, have the most amazing sex ever, and forget about the whole thing. 

What Harry didn’t expect was to get a call from Jeff around 5 asking him to come to the studio to fix few vocals, then end up nailing down 2 songs in one night, go to a bar with the band to celebrate, get drunk, then pass out at Mitch and Sarahs flat. 

But that’s what happened, according to Mitch, who woke Harry up the very next morning. 

“Good morning man, wakey wakey,” Mitch’s teasing tone echoed through Harry’s (what felt like full of vodka) brain as he groaned and squinted his eyes. “Why are you waking me up at this hour in the morning?” Harry asked drearily, sighing and simultaneously regretting last night as a whole because the last thing he wanted to do while hungover was be up before at least 9 AM.

“We’ve gotta go to meet with Jeff about tour in like a hour, H” Mitch stated .

At Mitch’s words Harry sat up on their couch, eyes wide in fear. “Wait mate, I thought tha’ meeting was on Wednesday.”

“It is Wednesday H, god how drunk did we let you get last night…” Mitch said, beginning to recount some of Harry’s antics the night before. Harry however, couldn’t hear a thing with the blood pumping through his ears. If today was Wednesday, that meant yesterday was Tuesday, and he went and got trashed at a bar with his friends Tuesday night when— when he was supposed to be on a date with Y/N, when he was supposed to confess his intentions, when he was supposed to apologize for standing her up over and over, yet instead he went and did it again.

Now this, this was a mistake.

“…H. H. Harry? Are you there?” Mitch’s voice came back into focus and Harry shook his head. “I- fuck, I was supposed to take Y/N out last night.” Harry said, his voice trembling.

‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you, it’s just one night.” Mitch tried to make Harry feel better. He knew Y/N was a very forgiving person, she would get over this in no time.

“No, she won’t. I-I’ve stood her up for the past month and a half, Mitch.”

At these words, Mitch stands straight up  making pained eye contact with Sarah in the kitchen who was overhearing most of this conversation with her eyes wide. She had no idea it was this bad. “Month and a half? I thought it was just that one time a few weeks ago, Harry what the hell is wrong with you?” Harry simply shook his head and didn’t reply. He had absolutely no idea how to make it up to her. “I-fuck, I don’t know Mitch!” Harry raised his voice. “I need to see her and apologize, now.” Harry said, standing up and rushing over to the front door and slipping on his shoes. 

“This meeting is mandatory Harry, as much as I want you to see her too, she’d probably still asleep, and I don’t think this can be solved in under an hour.” Mitch said calmly, already knowing Harry was close to walking out his door. Harry stayed silent for a moment, weighing the options. Either go apologize to his girlfriend, or prioritize himself over her again. 

“We can do it another day, I’m sorry, but I have to go see her, tell Jeff I feel sick.” And he walked out without another word.

。:°ஐ

The morning after Harry stood Y/N up again was brutal. 

She stayed up all night, replaying moments with Harry in her head, analyzing if he wanted to be there with her, wondering if maybe he felt like he had to stay with her out of pity. It was torture, and the pain seemed to turn into numbness as time went by, and eventually the sun came up, and she stayed in bed, her motivation lost.

A loud crash and “Fuck!” woke her up, swollen eyes fluttering open to the invasive noise. Y/N furrowed her brows, her mind connecting everything that happened yesterday and unfortunately reminding her of the unbearable pain she went through the night before. A groan escaped her lips as she sat up and flung her legs out of her bed sheets that had been flung off the bed in the middle of the night.  She began grumbling to herself as she made her way downstairs, ready to tell Harry off for making so much noise.

Her mouth stopped moving, and instead remained in limbo as her eyes met Harry’s. His mouth opened to speak, but his words were caught in his throat as he saw the state she was in. It was when her mouth pressed into a line that he could begin talking. “Y/N, baby, please I know you don’t wanna see me or talk t’me right now but I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love. So so sorry, it was an accident, I went t’ the studio to fix a few things then got hung up on the songs and by the time we went to celebrate I completely lost track of time, and I was too drunk to drive home so I crashed at Mitch’s.”

Her mouth fell open at his words. Everything was happening too fast. Hearing that he stood her up to drink at a fucking bar to celebrate himself, then coming home and accidentally knocking over a glass in their kitchen (which she put together was the crash earlier after seeing the shards of broken glass on the floor) frustrated her to no end. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him any longer, and Harry had stopped talking after realizing what he just admitted to her. Without another glance, instead of looking at Y/N’s tear stained face, all he saw was her back, walking up the stairs to their room. 

“Fuck,” He said to himself before following her up the pink stairs. “Y/N, love wait-please, I’m so sorry, I just need to talk to you, I need to explain myself, please.” He begged as she shut their bedroom door in his face, his voice turning into a desperate whine at the end. 

。:°ஐ

It’s been 3 days since then, and she hasn’t spoken to him. He would leave in the mornings, kissing her forehead and mumbling an “I love you” and telling her exactly what time he’d be home, before leaving and coming back on time to find an empty plate in the sink and her lying in their bed, whether it be reading, scrolling on her phone, or typing on her laptop. He would apologize many times, reaching his hand out for hers and she would simply situate herself in their bed and lay down, back turned to him. 

Harry just couldn’t take it anymore. 

It was when she had finally let him kiss her forehead goodnight that he decided to take his chance. “Y/N.” He spoke softly, with no response or anything to indicate she heard him. “Baby, can we please talk- or I’ll talk and you listen, I just- I really need to say some things.” 

She was still faced away from him when he leaned against their headboard and he decided to keep going. 

“I- um. I’m sure you know how sorry I am, but I really am- sorry I mean. Not just for tonight but for every other time I’ve stood you up. I’m so sorry for not showing you how much you matter to me, and how much the things you do matter to me.”

It was then that she slowly sat up next to him and looked at him, eyes begging him to continue. He blushed at her intense eye-contact that he had barely gotten over the past few days and took a breath, opting to look at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“We’ve been together for 2 and almost a half years, which is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and it’s no excuse to treat you this way, but I had just been thinking about how things progress even further than now,” He coughs. “Which is marriage, and when I finally came home, all I wanted to do was ask you to marry me- I don’t- m’not proposing right now, I just- I got really scared because wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone is crazy to me,

I’ve never thought that way about anyone else until you, I didn’t even really want to get married before you, and I started to distance myself before I ended up telling you this, but obviously that blew up in my face.” He chuckled a bit, locking eyes with her unreadable ones for a moment and lifting a hand to run through his hair. “What I’m trying to say, is that I love you, so so much, and I plan on marrying you— obviously if you want to too, of course— and I’m so sorry for trying to make you think that I didn’t care about you anymore or love you any less, because it’s the complete opposite of that.”

His eyes were watery now, as he started down at his interlocked fingers, and his eyes widened when her hand was gently placed over his own. “Harry,” Y/N began. “Look at me, please.” 

His head lifted to see her facing him, her brows knitted and a small smile on her face. “I forgive you, okay? I could tell you were kind of scared of commitment when we first started dating, and I wish I could say your reason for standing me up is surprising but it’s not.” They both chuckled a bit at this. “I- I’m still upset at you, I need you to know that, because 2 months of thinking the love of your life is avoiding you doesn’t feel all too great, so you suck for that,” she said, planting a quick kiss to his cheek which quickly turned pink. “But Harry, even if you asked me to marry you a year ago I would have said yes. I love you, so much, and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you as well. I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment, it was… unnecessary and immature. So, thank you for apologizing. I love you.” She confessed again.

“S’okay, I deserved it, and I love you too. Maybe even more. So um, we’re okay?” Harry asked, a hopeful smile on his face. 

She nodded with a smile and pulled him into a much needed hug and pulled away only for him to bring her into an even more needed kiss. “If you ever try to pull that shit again, I’m breaking up with you.” She laughed and he tackled her into the sheets hiding his face in her neck.

“Duly noted, love. Duly noted.”

[dxrkdreamer]

Not So Bad

Modern Sukuna x Reader

Working late had been the bane of your existence, only getting worse when a certain man started showing up to your store’s parking lot to light his joints.

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: 18+ implied sex, mentions of weed.

(A/N: should I make a part 2? It seems pretty popular

Couldn’t come up with a name for the store so I used Anavrin from ‘YOU’)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“11:00 pm? Again?” you rubbed the back of your head trying to hide your frustration, the store manager nodded his head, sighing you agreed to stay late at work again since the closer frankly did not want to stay. So now here you are grumbling as you finish sweeping the floor and checking it off your log. You worked at a high end grocery store named Anavrin, a store that swore to sell organic produce and products to the best of quality. You took up a job here in your senior year of high school, planning on working for a few months to save up for college. And yet… 4 years later you’re still here grumbling at the extra hours you had taken. After your second year of working you had a promotion to supervisor… woo hoo!!... but it turned out it was more responsibility than expected. But it paid a little more and you could not argue with that.

‘I should be a little more optimistic, I’m graduating uni this year’ you’d tell yourself anytime you wanted to pull your hair out because of your measly job. You finished turning off the lights and locking the door, sighing as you felt the cold fall air hit your tired face, taking a deep breath of fresh air… wait a second “Who the fuck is smoking weed!” you yelled in a girly voice, as if this day was not long enough. Since you were in charge of a proper closing you marched off towards a tall man leaning against the back of the store, laughing and conversing on his phone. It was a little nostalgic, you remembered your highschool days, sneaking around and smoking pot in strange places. But he was not as young as a teenager, in fact his build made him look older than you.

“Hey! I’m going to ask you to leave, this is a smoke free property” You tried saying sternly gesturing to the sign right above them that read “no smoking” in bold letters. But your short stature compared to the man made you look like a kid waving your arms around attempting a snake dance.

“What on earth is this?” a man with pink hair and face tattoos said “I’m so scared, I should be so ashamed for not reading the sign” he cackled as he pressed the joint to his lips and inhaled again. “My apologies”

He did not look sorry at all.

“Look, I’ve had a long day. I’d like to go home so please go to a proper location or I’ll-” but you’re cut off with the joint stuffed to your pretty lips.

“You’ll what cutie?” he smirked as you stared at him dumbfounded, the joint stuck to your lip as you tried to figure out a reaction. But the man was already on his way towards his motorbike. Of course he had a motorbike. “First one’s always free darling, next time I’ll charge ya” he winked as he put his helmet on and sped off.

“Mother fucker” you swore and banged your head against the brick wall. ‘Never am I staying late again’ you groaned. You walked to your car, but not without tucking the joint safely in your pocket for when you got back home.

---

And that was your first of many nightly encounters with the pink haired man. You were not surprised to see him anymore in the parking lot, either smoking, laughing with friends or just sitting on his bike staring at his phone. You learned his name was Sukuna… you had asked for it during the nth time you threatened to call the cops. You also learned he sold weed to the store manager, so he pretty much had a free pass on smoking here.

“Working late again (name)? My, they must pay you a lot for you to stay here.” he smirked, watching you with grinning eyes. Your annoyance shot up at the mention of your little over minimum wage pay. They definitely were not paying you enough for the store, but giving you a delinquent like this guy… you had written your resignation letter a few times after his nightly visits. You ignored him as you walked to your car, heavy footsteps followed “I brought ya a little something” He grinned handing you a baggy with a cookie “It’s on the house, made ‘em myself”. Eyes narrowed as you tilted your head up to glare at him, but realized you were a lot closer than you expected. You could hear him breathe, feel the heat off his body and smell the spicy cologne he was wearing as you breathed a little too loudly trying to inhale the scent. “Not today darling, that package is for another date” he winked.

Oh my God.

What have you done? Sure he was hot and you didn’t mind the view, but his mouth made up for that. He was like an evil version of a talking cat. Opening his mouth to smite you, prideful like one and given the opportunity would sit on your face if you were lying down. Wait what?

“I’m not interested in you like that!” you squeeked.

He tilts his head to the side, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand “Then how are you interested in me?”

“I’m not interested unless you’re a customer, or an employee here or something!” Frustrated, you grabbed the zip loc with the cookie in it “And I’ll be confiscating this!”

“Sure thing, I made it just for you. It's a special recipe”

“I’ll let the cops know!” you yelled getting in your car, throwing the cookie on the passengers side as you sped home for the night.

“So if I was an employee…or something...” he wondered gazing at the stars, his thoughts frenzying around as his mind came up with the most brilliant idea. Cackling loudly “you’ve really outdone yourself this time me.” Laughing as he got on his bike, speeding towards his apartment.

---

“A new employee?” You mused, It was pretty hectic at work recently, one of your employee’s had quit and they finally found a replacement “I wonder what they’re like”. You asked yourself as you prepared a training checklist to go over, making sure to not make it too hard on the new guy- you heard it was his first job after all. “Hello! And welcome to the Anavrin family!” you say smiling with closed eyes, as you open them your mouth went agape. ‘What the….’ had the demon cat from the parking lot shrunk and gotten more youthful?

“Hi, I’m Yuji Itadori. You must be my brother Sukuna’s friend. He said to write your name down as someone who referred me to the job”

Chuckling nervously with the clipboard in hand you checked off the box for introductions “I’m (name) the grocery supervisor, and you would be working under me mostly.” Friends with Sukuna? Cutting your wrists open and watching them bleed sounded like the better option.

As the shift progressed Yuji showed you he was the complete opposite of his older brother. Always finishing his tasks, being kind and sweet. Everyone else loved him too, just on the first day. He was stocking milk and eggs the way you had shown him, one of the last tasks of the night. The crowd of customers thinned out as it got late and the store was closer to its closing time. You watched to make sure he was doing them correctly and if he needed any help. ‘This wasn’t so bad’ you thought, closing your eyes and leaning back.

“So how’s my little brother been (name)?”

Your eyes shot open at that voice God no please. “He’s been amazing, but you can’t just put my name as a referral without asking me-” There stood a tall Sukuna in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled back, probably coming after finishing his day job. Majority of his tattoos were covered except the lines on his wrists that were exposed, making you gulp inaudibly. Suddenly feeling underdressed in your uniform’s polo shirt and measly work pants and sweater as you stared up at his glory.

“Sorry darling, I can’t do what?” he smirked. Mentally praising himself as his plan got into action. He couldn’t lie, (name) was interesting. Always yelling at him, cursing him and swearing that she would murder him if it was the purge. His usual charm not working gave him more of a challenge. Not to mention the way she was kind to younger brother made his heart swell a little.

The annoyance returned once you saw his shit eating grin “You can’t write my name down without asking me!”

As he opened his mouth to speak, the intercom went off, notifying everyone that the store was now closed and any remaining customers should bring their purchases to the front to pay for them.

“Yuji you can go home now, I’ll put this away and start heading out myself” you say massaging your temples with your fingers.

“See you soon (name).” Sukuna winked as he walked towards the exit, waving behind at you as he went outside to wait for his brother.

---

Unfortunately soon had never come… at least not for the last 3 weeks. Making you miss the tall man in more ways than one. Maybe he wasn't so bad now that you thought about it. The usual nightly teasing might make you seethe but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t laugh about it later in your car. Somehow his laid backness and mocking smile made your night light up a little. And the weed that you would “confiscate” really did help you unwind after a long shift.

“Maybe it was because he saw me in my uniform” you grumbled. That had to be it. You weren’t a sore look on the eyes. Right? But compared to him… you hissed as you felt your lower half heat up and tremble at the thought of the man. “Well it's only 11:00 pm… and my first class is at 9:30 am… and then I have work at the 4:00.” Debating your options…. ‘This is why I’m probably so grumpy all the time, I think too much’

“And probably need to get laid” you said aloud. Living alone did have its perks, no one could call you crazy for talking to yourself. Your friends always nagged you about your dry spell too, but one night stands weren’t really fun to you anymore. They were too shallow and you always found yourself feeling more frustrated by them than relaxed.

Quickly rummaging through your drawer, you found your lovely device and turned it on. The buzz filled the room as you fell on the bed and groaned. Your mind was wild as you thought dirty little things about the man. Your eyes rolled back and you felt little whines erupt from your throat as you imagined him on top of you with his signature smirk, choking you and teasing you, calling you terrible names and whispering dirty things in your ear.

But as quickly as you heated up, the device buzzed and suddenly stopped. Too hazy to think straight you tried turning it on and off again, soon realizing it was the battery that was dead. “For fucks sake” you threw the vibrator and it hit the wall and fell with a loud thud. Good. Pulling your covers up, scowling as you shut your eyes to sleep.

The next day only went further downhill. Your lecture was long and uneventful, you forgot there was a guest speaker instead of the usual prof, most of the class skipped anyways so you sat alone and pretended to be interested. And as you went home from campus, your car broke down on the way leaving you stranded in the heat as you waited for the tow truck. You really just wanted to buy some batteries and get some time to yourself before work. But life had another thing planned once you got home, you only left with half an hour before you had to leave for work. Which barely gave you enough time to shower, change into an excuse of an outfit, grab your uniform and run out the door. You heard a few whistles as you ran to the bus stop, most likely because of the skimpy outfit which was pretty much just a long t-shirt made into a dress with stockings. But this was not the time to be picking fights.

Work was more mundane as ever. Emptying, stocking, organizing and talking was all that seemed to happen. You frowned for the nth time in the day when you saw Yuji was not scheduled to work today and you remembered him mentioning that he was going somewhere with friends for the next two days. The boy could always turn a bad day around. He was a blessing to the department and the store as a whole. The long day finally came to an end and the weekend awaited. Stuffing your uniform in your bag as you walked out you saw a familiar motorbike and a man leaning against it getting ready to light a joint.

You didn’t think, all you could hear were your footsteps smacking against the pavement as you ran to the man. Blood rushed to your head as you slowed down, stopping barely an inch away from him. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt and most important, that smirk.

“I didn’t realize you missed me this much darling, otherwise-” but he was cut short as your hands gripped his head and pulled him down to your lips for a not so innocent kiss. You had to admit, you liked the guy. But as he responded by deepening the kiss and sliding his wet tongue into your mouth to taste you, you realized you wanted more of him. And you found yourself in his apartment, stripped down with his face buried between your legs as you came down from your second orgasm. Him licking you clean and not missing a single bit.

“When” you panted “when is Yuuji-” but he shushed you by gagging his fingers deep in your throat.

“Not until Sunday at least” he smiled with a sinister look, your wetness coating his lips “we have the whole weekend darling” He had waited almost two months for this so he was definitely going to take his time and relish the next few days. How could he not? You were beautiful with a fiery personality, and that showed by the ways you disobeyed him on his bed to get a reaction. It seemed the roles were reversed, but this time there would be consequences. For you at least.

He was relentless but you were no pussy and would not back down either. Both of you with fire and heat taking over your bodies as you brought spark and life into the night, wanting to explore every bit of each other, not stopping until you noticed the sun starting to rise causing exhaustion to take over.

He had let you stay to sleep in, provided you with a clean shirt to wear and even made breakfast for you. Presented you with a “gourmet plate of eggo waffles with the finest Aunt Jemimah maple syrup” he said which earned him a giggle from your pretty lips.

“I can make pretty good waffles from scratch” you told him proudly, puffing out your chest in pride. But these were special to you, the whole moment was special.

“I intend on trying them,” he spoke after a moment. He thought it was out of character for him to ask for a relationship but he wanted to be with you more than just a few times. And wanted more of you in different ways. He wouldn’t get his brother involved if it was a casual fuck relationship that he wanted. Which reminded him he owed the brat 50 bucks.

“Maybe you should come over sometime” you smiled sweetly, blushing a bit.

“I’d like to see you more, take out and get to know you” he said, interrupting your invitation.

“I’d like that too.” you said smiling.

[maizumis]

— HAIKYUU BOYS HAVING A TEA PARTY WITH YOUR DAUGHTER

ft. timeskip!miya atsumu, bokuto koutaro, oikawa tooru, kuroo tetsuro, iwaizumi hajime

note: female reader ‼️ watch me write about dad!haikyuu all the moments I didn't have with my own sperm donor

MIYA ATSUMU after a long day at work, you were coming home a little more late than usual and as you were opening the door with a sigh, the first thing you listen is “PEASANT, DO NOT TOUCH THE QWEEN CWON”, yeah that’s definitely your daughter and your pretty sure that the “peasant” is your, oh so-called husband. Curiosity took the best of you, now you were behind your daughter’s door listen carefully what atsumu was saying to her, “WHATYA MEANT PEASANT? I WANNA WEAR A CROWN TOO YA KNOW!” your daughter gasps in disbelieve, “daddy, mom is da queen, I’m da princess and yer the peasant! And clearly, mommy isn’t here so don’t touch her cwon!” One thing you know is that you wouldn’t like to see and hear a screaming match between the peasant and the princess in question, thinking that stepping in is the best option, you said “what’s the matter in here?”, next thing you know, your daughter with his big brown eyes that she got from her father, comes running at you, screaming “momm- I mean queen! Yeah, queen! yer just on time for the tea party, this peasant needs to learn some manners” you picked her up, enjoying the way her little arms go around your neck, “yeah? What did dada do this time?” while her face is on your neck, she tells you with a whisper “psss mom, he is not dad now, remember is tea party time” and now with her voice a little more loud she announces to you what he did “he wanted to use ya cwon!  Literally had to scream at him cause of that! Peoples this time are onbelivabol” the las part coming with a sigh, “ugh I now right? Why don’t we teach him some manners then?” After a little thinking, your daughter tells you “uh-huh! Yer right my queen, now I will leave to the bathroom and come back to continue this celebration”. While she leaves, atsumu comes at you with a back hug asking if ya really taking her side? with a low tone, so you replied with “of course I’m taking her side, she’s a child, our child in fact” atsumu looks at you with big eyes and tells you “she is right, people these times are onbelivabol but I still love you my queen”, now facing him, noses and foreheads touching each other you whisper to him “I love you to my peasant” and after a little chuckle you continue “thank you so much for this”.

 BOKUTO KOUTAROU he always had tea parties with his daughter on Mondays after his volleyball practice with the MSBY. He couldn’t go to last week's party because of an away game, and he was devasted and promised her little princess that he would get her something. Now he is coming home from the airport with three Elsa dresses, one for his precious child, the other for his precious wife, and the last one for him, it was very difficult to find one of his size cause of his beefy body, but if he promises his little girl something, he is gonna make it without a doubt. “HEY HEY HEY! GUESS WHOS HOME” he screams while putting his suitcase down “HEY HEY HEY DADDY! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! MOMMY IS MAKING DINNER WHILE I PREPARED OUR SUPER DUPER EXTRA TEA PARTY!!” he picks her up with one arm, making his way to the kitchen to involve you in a hug with the arm he had free “we missed you, kou” snuggling into his neck, and while his arm tightens around you he replies with a soft tone “missed my two girls too, so much” he puts her daughter on the floor again and tells her “missy I have a surprise for our tea party, why don’t you finish the preparations and then mom and I are gonna go there with dinner? Sounds good?” whit a little nod she answers with “yeah dada, that sounds good”. After hearing her enter her room you ask your husband what did he get for her, and when he tells you he didn’t get one, not two but three princess dresses you’re over the moon, the fuck you’re going to do with three dresses? you don’t question him and keep cooking as if you wouldn’t have to put on a frozen show in less than half an hour. “BABY IM COMING TO YOUR ROOM WITH HOT FOOD, BE CAREFULL” the little girl sees you in all your glory, with the most beautiful Elsa dress she ever saw “MAMA, WHY YOU DIDNT TOLD ME ELSA LET YOU BORROW HER DRESS? YOU'RE SO PWETTY!” laughing a little at her comment you decide that it was the best to tell her is a secret between adults, excited to see her reaction when her dad comes to her room with the same dress on him and a little one for her. “IM COMING IN!” your husband yells and your daughter’s eyes are the bigger you ever saw them, running like the flash to steal the dress that was in his dad's hands. “Daddy, that dress is so pwetty on you, and there's one for me! We are all matching! And now we are gonna have our four curse, ugh no, cruse, ump corse, mommy how do I say it?”, “course darling, four meal course. Now dada, why don’t you come to eat with us this fancy dinner?” after nodding and making his way to the both of you, bokuto thinks he is gonna ask for another kid one of these days.

[a-mended-pact]

Let the Right One In

A/N: So this is for @boldlyvoid 's challenge. I had so much fun writing this. Even though I'm still super anxious about posting my stories. It's been a pleasure and an honor getting to know you Em. Congratulations on reaching 2k! 🖤

Warning: Mentions of insecurities. Maeve Donovan. Faking a death.

Word count: 2,082

It was midday when I heard knocking on the front door. I was half tempted not to answer. Spencer was away on a case and neither him nor I were expecting anyone. Anyone that would come over at all was away on the case with him or states over. So who could be coming over unannounced? I clumsily headed towards the door. My fuzzy socks are making it difficult to stay balanced on the hardwood floor. A knock came again. It was gentler this time. 

I looked through the peephole and saw a small woman looking around nervously leaning from foot to foot. “Who is it?” I wondered if I could at least get a name. 

“I’m here to see Doctor Spencer Reid. I got his address from Aaron Hotchner.”

  My face blanched at the sound of Hotch’s name. It had been quite some time since anyone had mentioned him. After he went into protective custody with Jack even though the reaper was dead he still chose to stay away. Contact with him was rare and slim. I quickly opened the door and watched her jump back slightly. 

“Who are you?” she asked. She looked around the same age as him. She is actually quite beautiful. I wonder how Spencer knows her? 

“ I’m Y/n Reid.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied me.

 “I didn’t realize Spencer had a sister.” She finally met my gaze and smiled.

 “Is he here or do I need to come back at another time?” A small laugh escaped me 

“No, I am not his sister. I am his wife.” I crossed my arms over my chest and locked my foot in place behind the door keeping it only slightly ajar not letting her see into our home. 

Her face shifted to one of slight surprise. “Oh well I better just go then.” She went to turn away. When a thought crossed my mind.

 “Wait, I can call him if you’d like and let him know you are looking for him. What’s your name?” I was wondering whether this was a good idea or not to even call him but i had already offered and i am already in far too deep to turn back now. 

She stopped not turning to face me again. “My name is Maeve. Maeve Donovan.” 

Maeve. Why did I know that name? Why is my brain going off with alarm bells? But why do I know that name? I watched as she vanished from the hallway down the flight of stairs never turning back around to look at me. 

I slammed the door shut as I racked my brain on if I should mention this to Spencer at all. Especially while he is away on a case. Maybe I should wait until he gets home. He should be home later tonight. At least if the weather was alright over in New Hampshire. He had left me a message earlier this morning to let me know the case was solved and it had started snowing there but their flight wouldn’t be ready till a little later. 

He should be home in about an hour now. I will wait. I’ll definitely wait.

 

~

When Spencer walked through the door he looked sluggish and about ready to just collapse. The exhaustion clearly got to him from not getting enough sleep while he was away. He took off his satchel and his suit jacket. He began undoing his tie as he walked his way into our bedroom. Not even making eye contact with me. 

He came back out moments later in nothing but his flannel sweatpants. “Sorry I know I should have said hello to you. I just felt like I was suffocating in my clothes today.” As he spoke he made his way to the couch where I sat at one end.

 Once he sat down he leaned down and put his head in my lap. I gently started running my fingers through his hair while scratching his head. 

“That feels really nice.” His voice was soft and he let out a quiet sigh as he relaxed into the couch and my lap.

 If I wasn’t petting his head I was gently caressing his back with my fingertips. I know I needed to tell him. I was just so nervous. I knew somewhere deep down this would be stressful to him. The day already has worn him out so completely. It was like he needed my touch to recharge himself. I began biting my lip as my hand stopped on his lower back. 

“Hey, Spence, A woman came by to see you today. She said she got your address from Aaron.” He made a humming noise to let me know that he heard me. “Her name was Maeve Donovan.” I felt his back muscles tense at the sound of her name. He sat up immediately. 

“Wh- what did you say?” He looked at me as if I had just grown an extra head or as if I had just spoken another language.  “Mae-” He cut me off. “No, I heard what you said. I don’t need you to repeat yourself. It’s not possible she was at the door. She is dead. She’s been dead for years.” 

He pushed himself up off the couch, the muscles in his arms flexing more than usual. He was more tense than I have seen him in a long time. The last time I saw him this upset or stressed was when he first came back from prison. We were just dating back then.

“I am going to go call Hotch.” he moved quickly to grab his phone when he finally reached it. It began to ring. He looked at it for a couple of seconds before he answered.

“Hello?” His eyes widened slightly. I watched as he clenched his jaw and tears brimmed his eyes. 

“M-m-maeve?” He leaned himself back against the wall. His breathing became irregular as he slid himself down the cold panel. At the same time I saw a couple of tears leave his eyes.

I sucked in a breath and sighed. Was this going to be the end of us? Now that all the stories Spencer told me of her came back once he said that she was dead.

She was his first love after all. It would only make sense right?

====Spencer’s Pov=====

My vision was blurred beyond recognition. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears as the sound of her voice drifted in and out. This isn’t real. It’s not possible. I watched her die. I saw her. She was pronounced dead at the scene. I mourned her. It’s been years. Nearly a decade.

“Spencer? Can you hear me?” I felt my tears stream down my face, nodding as if she could see me. 

“Yeah, Yeah I can hear you.” My voice cracked as I answered her. 

“Just like old times huh? It’s so nice to hear your voice. I’ve missed you.” My breath hitched at her words. 

I felt my heart hammer in my chest. I glanced up to see if I could find my wife. She was watching me with concern but otherwise she hadn’t moved not yet. All the guards Y/n had torn down throughout the years started building themselves up higher and higher. 

"H-how are you alive? I watched you die." The horrible memories of that fatal day still haunted me. What am I supposed to do now?

Do I still have feelings for her? Is it wrong if I do? I don't know how to handle this. What should I do?

"That's why I came to see you earlier.  It was an idea that I came up with at the last minute.  So I faked my death." Her voice was calmer than my breathing.  I felt the walls Barricading around me to keep me safe. I was suffocating.

I wasn't sure I had heard her right. I could feel my ears ringing as the blood in me ran cold.

"You faked your death and made me believe for a decade that the first person I ever loved died a brutal death because you wanted a new life?" My tone was harsher than I anticipated.

I felt my wife's hands run through my hair in a comforting manner as she lowered herself to the floor with me.

I glanced at Y/n as tears streamed down my face. The memories of Maeve and my feelings for her wreaking havoc on my heart.

"Darling, I think you should hang up. For now anyway." She whispered it as her hand lowered to the back of my neck giving me a gentle message. 

My back stiffened. I was so caught up in my own nightmare I hadn't realized that this is probably a living one for her.

"Spencer. I can expla-" I cut off the call before she could even finish her sentence.  Y/n was right.

"You have a lot you need to process and I'm sure you didn't want to say anything you would regret. I'm sorry if I've overstepped." She looked a little nervous as if I was gonna snap at her the way I had Maeve 

I gently grabbed the hand that was touching me and brought it up to my lips placing a kiss on it.

"Nonsense. You are my wife. You were right. I should have hung up. I just. I don't know how to explain what I was feeling." I could feel my breathing begin to slow slightly as I tried to match her breathing to get mine back to normal.

It was like my world paused for a moment and began to spiral faster than I could catch my balance. I felt air fill my lungs when I heard her voice but yet I was left gasping for oxygen. 

The very thought of Maeve brought back so many things I thought I had dealt with prior to now.  I leaned my head against my wife's shoulder as I just let the tears fall.

I felt awful having her comfort me over another woman. Yet I couldn't bring myself to completely care. She was the one offering me comfort.  

She held me in her arms. Whispering to me that things will be okay. That we'd figure things out.

I truly didn't deserve her. She loves me so unconditionally it's unnerving. That's when my phone went off again.

It was the same number Maeve had called me from.

I glanced at my wife. Who just watched me. That's when I fully knew and decided something that had been bothering me for over the past hour or so.

I let my phone continue to ring as I cupped her face. 

"You...you make me feel special and good and all these things that I still don't have the words for yet— good things… things I never thought I deserved to feel.” I pulled her in closer letting our lips caress one another.

"I love you Spencer.  You don't need to say all of this right now. I know you are still-" She tilted her head to the side as if she were trying to figure me out.  "Cluttered and that's okay."

I kissed her harder than I've ever kissed anyone before.

"I’m not in love with her, I’m in love with you”

I have no real idea on if she needed this reassurance all I knew is that I did. I wanted her to know out loud what she meant to me. I couldn't imagine a better partner. A better lover or a better best friend than her.

 I wasn't going to have her doubt everything about us. Not for anything.

I stayed close to her as my phone kept repeatedly going off until eventually it stopped. I was still figuring things out. 

Knowing that Maeve was alive before I met Y/n would have changed my life completely but now? I didn't want anything to change.  For once I was happy. I had someone in my life who put me first. Who cared about me. Who wasn't afraid to hurt my feelings as long as it kept me safe. She loved me for me and all the mess in between who I have yet to become.

She saw me for me. I wasn't Doctor Spencer Reid.  I wasn't a federal agent or a professor to her. I was just Spencer.  The man for some ungodly reason she chose to love. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Late Night Talks

Summary: After a long hunt, the reader and Dean grab a late dinner on the road. Dean notices the reader not eating much and calls her out on her recent eating habits when he gets concerned about the road she’s on...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, discussion of disordered eating & eating disorders, fluff

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo! 

______

“I read this article earlier,” said Dean as he popped a french fry into his mouth. You were about five hours from home, eating a midnight dinner at some tiny little diner on the side of the road after a successful but exhausting ghoul hunt.

“Mhm,” you hummed, picking at a brussel sprout on your plate. 

“It was on disordered eating,” he said, picking up a piece of bacon that’d fallen onto his plate and eating it.

“You mean eating disorders,” you said, stabbing into the sprout and eating it before you went back to your dicing up your chicken tenderloin.

“No this was something different. It’s like, how some people shift into having an eating disorder, like pre disorder I guess.”

“So...was there something interesting in this article?” you asked, picking up a piece of chicken and taking a bite.

“Actually yeah,” he said. You chewed and took a few bites before he set the burger down and wiped off his hands. “It was about how there’s dangers involved with disordered eating since it could turn into something all consuming, like a full on eating disorder.”

“Well that sounds kinda obvious,” you said. 

“Well it was about how stuff like skipping meals, limiting your calories too much, saying some foods are good and others are bad, that stuff over time can really start to mess with your head and lead to that compulsion of being obsessed with food and weight.”

“Isn’t that just common sense,” you said. He hummed and you ate another piece of chicken before pushing the plate away. “I don’t know about you but I’m full.”

“Yeah, it is common sense,” he said. You raised an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone, tapping on it for a moment before spinning it around, showing you a number.

“Are you tracking my fucking calories?” you said.

“Oh geez, Y/N. Maybe cause you hit every red flag in that article I read and I got concerned. There’s no humanly possible way you’re full when you’ve eaten a whopping 800 calories today. You’re starving yourself.”

“I’m not hungry today, weirdo,” you said. 

“You were slow on that hunt and we both know why. You’ve been doing this for weeks really extremely and honestly, since I’ve met you.”

“I’m on a diet. You know that.”

“You’re on the ‘I’m fucking up my metabolism’ diet. Ah, that one’s a classic,” he said.

“Back off. I am not hungry lately is all.”

“Eat this,” he said, sliding his plate in front of you. He took your plate and started eating, staring at you. “Eat the burger.”

“I said-”

“Take one bite.”

“I’m not hungry,” you growled.

“Then take a bite and spit it out.” You picked up the burger, covered in cheese, bacon, peppers and a sauce that smelled so good. You swallowed and put it down, Dean shaking his head.

“Dean. I’m just not hungry.”

“Why won’t you take a bite?” he asked. You sighed and closed your eyes. “Y/N.”

“Because I’ll want to eat the whole thing and this has to be a thousand calories and I can’t eat that much, Dean. I’m on a diet.”

“Today I’ve seen you have three cups of coffee, a banana, and half of a small piece of chicken and a few brussel sprouts. You need to eat.”

“I need to lose weight.”

“For what?”

“I’m overweight.”

“Because a little stupid calculator online said so? So another stupid little calculator tells you how much food you’re allowed a day? But maybe you’re having a bad day so you tell yourself you don’t deserve to have even all of that already restricted food? So you make it even smaller to the point of, hm, what’s that word, disordered eating?”

You stared down at your lap and heard him get up, sliding into the booth beside you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you looked out the window.

“I do need to lose weight Dean. It’s true. I’m not supposed to be this big.”

“What are you supposed to be then?”

“Like that waitress. She’s small and thin. She’s healthy.”

“I see,” he said. She was working behind the counter, no one else in the place aside from a man at the other end and the cook. “Excuse me miss?”

She popped her head up and walked over with a tired smile.

“Can we get another bacon cheeseburger? And a big bowl of that ice cream sundae?” he asked.

“You got it,” she said, writing it down.

“One more thing,” said Dean. “Do you like the way you look?”

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Dean, shut up,” you said. “Please ignore him.”

“I mean, are you happy with your body? Do you eat whatever you want, wear whatever you want, never worry a second about what goes in it or how it looks? You’re a beautiful woman but what do you actually think of yourself?”

She was quiet for a few moments before she noticed the swapped plates in front of you.

“You know when you first asked that, I thought, you were being creepy. I get creepy guys in here a lot late at night. The cook is a big guy but it happens. I know I’m small. I wish I was stronger. I wish I looked like she does. I’m something that looks like they’d snap in the wind. She’s strong and has an ass and curves. She’s not a rectangle with no curves or chest. She doesn’t look like a guy. I wish I wasn’t so delicate but I don’t think I can change that much.”

“Probably not so much,” said Dean. “But I hear weight training is good for muscle building. Creeps are always creeps but might help to be able to deck ‘em.”

“Yeah. I’ll go put that order in for you guys,” she said with a smile. Dean turned his head back to you after she went through the double doors.

“Funny. You want her body. She wants yours,” he said. 

“She doesn’t know I’m overweight.”

“She doesn’t know how damn strong you are. Her body? She was right. She is delicate and it’d be a safe idea for her to put on some muscle given her job. You though? You I’ll worry to death over no matter what. But you’re missing the most glaring thing of all.”

“What?”

“You just said she doesn’t know you’re overweight. She doesn’t know how much you weigh. If she doesn’t know how does anyone know? Why does a number on a scale matter? Health does, don’t get me wrong, but care more about what your body can do than what size pants you fit in. It’s all bullshit anyways. You can be a small one place or a triple XL somewhere else. You can have a normal chest but be told it’s too big or too small by a different brand. I just don’t want to see you going down a path towards something worse where you’re hurting yourself.”

“I’d never hurt myself, Dean.”

“If your body is hungry and you don’t feed it, you’re hurting it. I’m talking about you’re cold, you’re starving, you have no energy, you feel like crap. But you won’t eat, not until it gets a little worse because you think you can take it because you’ve taken it before. That’s hurting yourself and you hurt yourself a lot sweetheart.”

You looked down and swallowed, taking a deep breath.

“I’m really cold right now,” you said quietly. “I’m tired of always being so fucking cold.”

“Eat,” he said, tugging his plate closer to you. “I’ll order you some soup too. That’ll warm you up.”

He took off his jacket and wrapped it over your shoulders. He kissed your cheek and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’ve been like this for years, Dean. I don’t know how people eat normally anymore.”

“I know. You probably fucked up your metabolism but we can unfuck it up too. You can be healthy but this, this isn’t healthy. I’ll do it with you but you gotta promise me you won’t starve yourself anymore.”

“I’ll try,” you said.

“I’ll take trying to start with,” he said. “I’m gonna order that soup. Eat up for me sweetheart. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

One Month Later

“Y/N!” shouted Dean from the kitchen as you walked past. “You eat lunch yet?”

“No,” you said. 

“Are you hungry?”

“A little. I was waiting for you to get done with Baby,” you said.

“What’d you eat so far?” he asked.

“I had a cup of coffee and a protein bar and for lunch I’m having one of those greek wraps I like,” you said. “Satisfied?”

“I’d prefer if you had two wraps or a wrap and snack with it,” he said. You grumbled and he sighed. “Y/N. You said I could take the lead on this.”

“I’m gaining weight,” you said.

“Yeah cause you aren’t eating what a toddler does in a day anymore which is perfectly healthy for a grown woman. I know it’s only been a month but you have so much more energy, you sleep better, you have less nightmares. Your skin looks amazing. So gain a few pounds, gain more than a few, let’s fix your metabolism and then we’ll start working out a little and we’re not gonna give a fuck how much we weigh at all and we’re gonna be the hottest fucking couple in this neighborhood I swear.”

“I like not feeling cold anymore,” you said with a small smile, Dean walking over and rubbing your arms. “It’s just...hard sometimes to not...wait to eat until your stomach hurts from no food. I’m figuring out what being hungry is again.”

“It’s gonna take some time but your body will learn again. We just gotta be extra nice to it right now while it recovers,” he said. “And then we’ll always be nice to it, right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I promise.”

“So, one wrap or two?” he asked, opening the fridge.

“One. I’ll save the other for tomorrow. But maybe I’ll have some pita chips and hummus with it?” you asked.

“That sounds yummy,” he said. “I think I’ll have that myself.”

“You don’t have to eat my diet Dean,” you said.

“I could do with being nicer to my own body myself,” he said. “After lunch do you want to go for a walk? I have a sneaking suspicion the couple three blocks over are a pair of vamps.”

“That’s the guy with the skin condition, babe,” you said.

“Are you sure cause he got like a weird rash that one time.”

“It’s a condition,” you said with a smile. “But I would love to go for a walk with you while the day is still nice.”

“Sounds like a plan sweetheart,” he said, starting to take food out of the fridge. You walked over and gave him a hug from behind. 

“Thanks for saying something. Even if I tried pretending I was fine.”

“You’d do the same for me,” he said. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get some grub. I’m starving.”

________

[itsallyscorner]

♥︎ The Struggles of Getting A Valentine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!reader

Summary: The three times Peter tries to ask you to be his Valentine and the one time he successfully does.

Warnings: none. Just a lot of fluff. Peter being a simp, Bucky being the cutest bby ever, and Tony being a dad. This is long. Happy reading💞

(Source — Pinterest)

Attempt #1

Peter watched as you vigorously took down notes. From time to time your eyes would shift back up to the projected screen on the board. Your hair would graciously fall past your ear and to the front of your face, causing you to continuously tuck it behind your ear whenever it bothered you. He let out a dreamy sigh at the thought of running his fingers through your hair and tucking the loose strands behind your ear for you.

He wasn’t paying attention in class; he should have cared more about World War II, but you had his undivided attention without even trying. Besides, he could ask Steve for help if he ever needed it, he’s literally lived through part of World War II. Peter felt foolish as he stared at you, a lovestruck expression was on his face while he admired you from afar. You were just a few seats away from him. You were in the next row, two seats ahead of him. He was so hopelessly in love with you, his feelings for you were more than just a crush. He admired every little thing about you. From your kindness to how talented you were as an Avenger; you were the girl of his dreams.

Ms. Atwell’s voice faded in the background while his mind clouded with thoughts of you. Beside him was Ned, who was also taking notes while trying to get Peter to focus once again. When Ms. Atwell turned her back to the class, Ned roughly shoved Peter’s shoulder. The hearts in Peter’s eyes popped and the chorus of How Deep Is Your Love by The Bee Gees stopped playing in his head. He whipped around to look at Ned, annoyed that his friend took him out of his daydream.

“What?” Peter asks him through gritted teeth.

“Ms. Atwell already yelled at you twice yesterday for not paying attention in class, do you really want her to call you out again?” Ned whispered back harshly. Peter was one of the smartest dudes Ned has ever known, but sometimes he could be as dumb as a rock and as stubborn as a mule.

Peter shrugged him off, “She won’t notice.” He looked to the front to make sure Ms. Atwell’s back was still turned to the class, “I think I’m gonna ask (y/n) to be my valentine.”

Getting lured in with curiosity, Ned asks, “Don’t you guys see each other everyday? And do patrol together? How have you not asked her yet?”

“I don’t know—I couldn’t find the right time to.” Peter answered, turning his head back to the front when he sensed Ms. Atwell turn back to the class. She briefly mentions something about the Howlling Commandos and turns back around.

“When are you asking her?” He hears Ned whisper behind him. He leans back, face still towards the board, “Right now.”

Ned nods then takes a double take at the back of Peter’s head, “Now?!”

Peter rips the corner of the page his notebook was open to and began to sloppily scribble the words:

(Y/n), will you be my valentine?

Yes ⃞ No ⃞

— Peter :)

As childish as his note was, he believed that you would find the gesture cute. Little did he know that Ms. Atwell would too. While he excitedly folded the piece of paper, he had not realized that Ms. Atwell had stopped talking and was looking at him with that stern stare of hers. Cluelessly, Peter quietly giggles to himself and tapped MJ, who was in front of him. When she didn’t turn around, he looks up from the note to see Ms.Atwell hovering above his desk, arms crossed with an unamused look on her face.

Startled, Peter jumps in his seat, eyes wide and cheeks growing warm. He looks around the class to see everyone staring at him, including you. Although, you had that same unamused look on your face as Ms. Atwell. Like Ned, you also scolded Peter whenever he didn’t pay attention in class.

“Dumbass.” You mouthed at him shaking your head. A sheepish grin forms on his face as his eyes shift back to Ms. Atwell. Her red painted lips were in a thin line and her hand was held out at him.

“Give me the note, Mr. Parker”

Peter’s eyes widened even more, making him fear that they might pop out of their sockets, “NO—no, no, no. I—I can’t.”

“And why not?” She asks him in her posh accent.

“Uh—because..” Peter struggled to come up with an excuse. His eyes shifted between you and Ned, desperately asking for help. Ned shrugs in response.

“Just give it.” You mouth to him. He shakes his head at you furiously and was about to respond to Ms. Atwell, but the note was removed from his hands. Peter squeaks as he tries to take it back from his teacher but shoves himself back into his seat when Ms. Atwell glares at him. She opens the note, eyes skimming at the words written on the piece of paper. A small smirk grows on the older woman’s lips.

“P—please don’t read it out loud.” Peter pleadingly whispered to her. He leaned forward, “I’ll go to detention, I’ll even grade your papers for you—just please don’t read it out loud.”

You raise a brow at the brown haired boy, wondering what could have been written on that piece of paper that made him beg Ms. Atwell for detention to not read it. You shift your questioning gaze at Ned, who waves off your nonverbal question.

Ms. Atwell sighs, crumpling up the piece of paper, “Detention after school.”

“Yes.” He whispered to himself in victory, hands clasping together. “Thank you, thank you, Ms. Atwell.”

“I’m only letting this slide once. The next time I see you writing notes in my class, I’m reading it to everyone and calling home.” She warned pointing a finger at him. Peter nods eagerly, “Got it, Ms. Atwell.”

She returns back to her lesson while Peter shoved his face into his hands in embarrassment. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and his heart was pounding out of nervousness. He musters up the courage to look at you again.

Much to his surprise, you were already looking at him over your shoulder. He flashes you a shy smile to which you reciprocate with one of your own. You turn back around, resuming to take notes from the board. The smile on his face only grew wider as he stared down at his scribbled notebook, the image of you smiling at him stuck in his head.

Attempt #2

The next time Peter tried to ask you to be his valentine happened a few days after his first failed attempt. He was spending the weekend at the tower after Tony and Steve suggested that he should begin training with them more. Of course, he took their advice; this was an opportunity for him to improve on his skills and learn new things. But most importantly, he would get to see you everyday.

Peter was sat on the floor of the Avengers’ shared living room setting up Netflix on the giant flat screen attached to the gray wall. He had finished training an hour ago and was now going to have a movie night with you. You had also finished training the same time he did and suggested that the two of you should watch some new movie that came out on Netflix. He thought it was an amazing idea to have a movie night, obviously it was an amazing idea, you came up with it. He agreed willingly and insisted on grabbing food for you both. He swung from building to building until he ended up back in Queens at the entrance of Delmar’s. The two of you would go to the bodega everyday after school and pick up your usuals. Then Peter would swing you to the rooftop of some building and the two of you would eat before doing some patrol work around the city.

He pulled out your usual sandwiches from the plastic bag and placed them on the coffee table. To pair with the sandwiches, he also bought chips and two bottles of soda. He set up the coffee table and made it look neat. He wasn’t usually a perfectionist, but he felt the need to impress you. Did table or food presentation matter to you? Would you think he was sloppy if he carelessly placed the food on the table? Or maybe you’d think he was a neat freak from how neat and trim the food was laid out?

While you gathered extra pillows and blankets from your room, Peter continued to fidget with the food on the table. He moved the bottles of soda around too many times and even tilted the chips to make it look aesthetically pleasing. When he was content with how everything was organized, he glanced at the plastic bag. Along with the food, he had also bought a box of chocolates. The red heart shaped box caught his eyes and he felt his fingers inching closer to it. It was almost Valentine’s Day and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine. He felt a rush of adrenaline in his body when he took the box from the shelf and purchased it. Peter made the spontaneous decision that he was going to ask you to be his valentine during your movie night. He would place the box on top of your food and when you come out of your room, you would see the box and then he’ll finally get the chance to shoot his shot.

Peter gripped the red heart box and gingerly placed it on top of your chips. He eyed it nervously before shifting his attention back to the tv. He was searching for the movie you suggested on watching when Bucky walked into the living room. The two greeted each other quietly until Bucky caught sight of the box of chocolates.

“Are those chocolates? I haven’t seen them in these heart shaped boxes in forever.” Bucky reminisced, picking up the box and inspecting it. His eyes were filled with curiosity, “Woah, they make them look all flashy now. Back in the day, ours didn’t have bows or glitter on ‘em. It was just some picture.”

Peter found himself smiling at Bucky’s sudden interest in the box. “Did they come in different flavors back then, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky whips his head up to look at Peter, “No! They only had milk chocolate. They come in different flavors now? No way.” Bucky exclaimed, turning the box around to see all the flavors listed on the back. After seeing Bucky’s reaction to the chocolates, he wanted to just give them to Mr. Barnes. But if he gave them to Mr. Barnes, then he would have nothing to give you when he asks you to be his valentine. He didn’t necessarily need to give you anything to ask the question, but it would have made the gesture more sweet and somewhat romantic. Though, that smile on Bucky’s face was a rare sight.

Peter’s shoulders slumped against the couch he was leaning on. He mustered up a smile and told Bucky, “You can have it if you want.”

“Oh no, it’s fine, this is yours. I could ask Steve or Sam to buy me one at the stores.” Bucky waved him off, trying to hand the box back to Peter. Peter shook his head, making the brown curls on his head wiggle, “No, take it Mr. Barnes. (Y/n) and I already have plenty of junk food here. You know, with training and all, wouldn’t want all that work to go to waste just to eat a bunch of junk food.”

“Are you sure, kid?” Bucky asked still holding out the box at Peter.

Peter sent him a soft grin and motioned for him to take it, “Yeah go ahead, you’ll enjoy it more than us.”

Bucky’s grin widens and he holds the box of chocolates up to his chest, “Thanks Peter! You’re not as bad as Sam says you are.” With that, he turns around and walks back down the hall.

“Thanks?” Peter said, a brow raised at Bucky’s retreating body. You come around the corner with an arms full of blankets and pillows. Peter chuckles and gets up to help you.

“(Y/n), you didn’t have to get so many pillows.” He teased, taking a blanket and two pillows from you. You huffed and placed the items on the floor.

“I just want to make sure we’re comfortable, Pete. Comfort is important during movie nights.” You defended yourself.

As you set up the blankets and pillows you glance at Peter, “Bucky told me you gave him chocolate. That was sweet of you.” A tint of red forms on his fair cheeks.

“It was nothing. Apparently they didn’t have different kinds of chocolate back in the day. When I told him, his whole face lit up, it was probably the happiest I’ve ever seen Mr. Barnes.” He explained, sitting beside you on the floor.

You smile fondly at the boy next to you, he truly was the biggest sweetheart. “It’s not nothing. That probably made his day, Pete. We barely see Bucky smile.”

Peter hummed in response, too busy being mesmerized by the light in your eyes. He averts his gaze before you can catch him staring at your face.

Peter’s eyes land at the food on the table. His bottom lip pursed into a pout when he spotted a dent on the bag of chips created by the box of chocolates. The small dent taunted him and was only a reminder of how he should have been already popping the question. He mentally cursed at himself, he couldn’t help but become a perfectionist when it came to you. He couldn’t just ask you the question—you deserved a bouquet of flowers, boxes of chocolate, teddy bears—heck he’d give you the world without you even asking for it.

“Hey! I got you your favorite.” He sees you instantly perk up. That beautiful smile of yours takes over your features and the butterflies in his stomach came to life. He found himself reciprocating your smile.

“Thank you, Peter! You’re the best!” You squeal, pressing a light kiss on his cheek and throwing your arms around him. He was taken aback by the sudden form of affection. Shock was written on his face while his body was frozen. Meanwhile, you were already digging into your sandwich while he was still in his flustered state, processing what just happened.

Attempt #3

This had to be the perfect time to ask you, Peter thought to himself. The two of you were sat on the ledge of some random roof Peter swung you both onto. You were sat beside him, feet swinging back and forth while you looked down on the bright city. Your hands gripped onto the edge of the roof, your fingers brushing against Peter’s once in a while, making the both of you blush.

Wind gently breezed past you, causing strands of your hair to brush over your shoulder. He should have been patrolling the city, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but his eyes were glued to the side of your face. The lights from the city reflected on your features; giving your skin a warm glow and your eyes a sparkle. He thought you looked absolutely stunning.

“It’s not nice to stare.” You suddenly tease him. He’s been caught. His mouth was agape and he quickly turned his head away from you sputtering. You smirked to yourself knowing that his cheeks were turning bright red.

“Oh—um, I wasn’t—yeah, no, I’m sorry.” He muttered. His hand awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he glanced at you. He was thankful that it was the night time, this would’ve been more embarrassing if you saw how red his cheeks were.

A playful smile was on your lips, “I’m playing, Peter. Is there something on my face?”

Besides beauty? No, there’s nothing on your face, was what he wanted to tell you.

“No! Your face is—fine.” He answered smiling nervously.

Wait, why would you say her face is just FINE? He thought to himself. He then continued to stutter out words, “I—I mean, your face is really pretty.”

You stared at him, amused at his flustered state. You always found his bashfulness adorable. He easily blushed at any compliment or kind of physical contact. You could nudge shoulders with him and his cheeks would instantly go red as a tomato. Even though he easily blushed, he was the sweetest person you knew. He cared about others around him, he had the kindest soul, and he knew how to treat a girl right. He was also a thief, because he stole your heart the moment you first laid eyes on him.

You giggle at him and bite your lip, “Thanks Pete. Your face is pretty too.”

“Thanks.” He breaths out. His inner voice then spoke, this is your chance idiot just ask her the damn question. Peter agreed with himself, this was the perfect moment. The moon shined in the night sky, the twinkling lights of the city set the mood, and the two of you were finally alone—this was perfect.

“Hey, (y/n)?” You turn your attention to him to see him fiddling with his fingers.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

You laugh, “You just did, twice, but yeah, shoot.” Your joke seemed to loosen him up because it got him to chuckle.

He eyes your hand before grabbing it. He fumbles with your fingers until you decide to help him out and interlock them together. You see him smile at your fingers.

His thumb rubs the back of your hand, “Well, I’ve been trying to ask you this for a long time now. People just keep getting in the way of all my plans. Uh—I was wondering, only if you want to, if you want to be my—“

A shrill scream interrupts Peter. He clenches his jaw, hanging his head down in defeat. You squeeze his hand, catching his attention. The adorable pout was on his lips again and you were tempted to kiss it away.

You flash him an apologetic smile, “We should check on that.”

“Yeah, we should.” Peter grunted, taking his mask and shoving it on. With the hand that was still holding yours, he helps you up from the ledge.

You wrap your arms around his neck while one of his hands rest on the small of your back. He checks to see if his web shooters are on properly and pulls you closer to his chest, “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get ‘em.”

Success

It was only a night away until Valentine’s Day and Peter still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine. His heart felt heavy when you didn’t walk through the doors of your shared first period class. You must’ve been running late, he remember thinking to himself. He waited to see you at fourth period, but to his dismay, you were still not there. During lunch, he kept to himself and picked at his food while he worried about you. Asking you to be his Valentine was long forgotten, now he was wondering why you didn’t show up to school. Were you sick? What if you were in danger? Was there an invasion at the tower? Maybe you were on a mission? But that didn’t make sense, since you’d usually tell him you had a mission before hand. His entire day was spent thinking of reasons why you weren’t at school.

The second the bell rung, he rushed out of the school, leaving behind a concerned Ned. He sprinted to the train, then stopped by Delmar’s to get your usual order and another box of chocolates. He shoved the items into his book bag and swung his way to the tower. He greeted the receptionist and squeezed his way into an elevator. When he landed on the Avengers’ floor, he saw Sam, Tony, and Rhodey at the kitchen.

“Hey kid! How was school? Educational?” Tony greeted him, ruffling his hair as he passed by.

“Uh, yeah.” He answered, not bothering to actually answer Tony’s question. “Where’s (y/n)?” He asked them looking around the floor. Sam and Rhodey share a look at the boy’s eagerness.

“A mission came up. She’s out with Nat, Wanda, and Steve.” Sam answered, taking a sip out his mug.

Peter’s shoulders sag, “Do you know when they’re coming back?”

Rhodey glances at the time, “Not till tonight.” Peter curses to himself. Tony raised a brow at the boy, “Why are you so desperate to see (y/n)?”

“I’m not desperate!” Peter weakly defended himself. “I just—I had to ask her a question before tomorrow.”

Tony smirks at Peter, “It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.” Peter sighs and tosses his bag onto the floor. He pulls out one of the stools at the counter and shoves himself to sit on it.

“Exactly.”

“So you finally grew the balls to ask (y/n) out? About time, I was getting tired of seeing the two of you make puppy eyes at each other from across the room.” Sam snickered. Rhodey nodded, agreeing with Sam.

“We don’t make puppy eyes at each other.” Peter grumbled crossing his arms. Tony leans on the counter across from Peter, “Did you get her anything?”

“I got her usual sandwich from Delmar’s and a box of chocolates. I was gonna ask her to hang out in the garden and we’d eat our sandwiches there, then I would’ve asked her to be my Valentine.” Peter explained to the three men.

“You got her a sandwich and a box of chocolates?” Rhodey asked him.

Peter shrugged, “It’s all I could afford! I don’t get any money from being Spider-Man.”

Tony felt bad for Peter. He saw how the two of you interacted; bright smiles and attached at the hip. You guys obviously liked each other, but were too chicken to admit it. This was the exact push you both needed to admit those feelings. Tony patted down his pockets until he felt his wallet.

“I don’t trust you with my card, so here’s a hundred.” Tony slides the bill across the counter to Peter. The boy’s brows knitted together, “For what?”

Tony motions to the elevator, “Go and get your girl some flowers or something, I don’t know. You’ve got time before she gets here.”

“What? Mr. Stark I can’t take your money.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Kid, you’ve been making heart eyes at this girl since the moment you first saw her. Now take the damn money and make this a memorable Valentine’s Day for her.”

Peter takes the bill and shoves it into his pocket, he stumbles out the chair and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He surprises Tony with a hug before running out of the kitchen.

Peter ended up at the nearest Walgreens. He went all out with the gifts, that he needed two baskets to hold his items at the store. When he got back to the tower he headed straight to your room. He wasted no time in decorating your room. He hung up stringed lights with little heart lanterns attached to them on all four of your walls. He got a few stuffed animals and a giant squishmallow. He laid those things out on your bed paired with some of your favorite candies. He also got that lip balm you’re always raving about, fuzzy socks, and a scented candle. The last thing he got, that he knew you would enjoy, was a Harry Potter Lego set. It was only a small set, but he knew you’d like it nonetheless. You’ve always told him that you wanted to build a Lego set with him and now he was going to make that happen.

He stood in the middle of your room admiring his work. Everything was set perfectly and he was proud of his decorating skills. A knock was heard on the door, making him rush to grab the bouquet of roses on your desk.

“Um, COME IN!” He yelled, fixing his hair and standing straight with the flowers to his chest. The door opens to only reveal Mr. Stark.

“Hey—wow.” Tony observered your room, surprised at how it looked. He turned to Peter and gesture to the roses, “Listen Pete, I appreciate the gesture but I’m a married man.” He raises his ring finger for show, snickering at his own joke.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter whined setting the roses on your bed.

“What? I just came in here to tell you that they’re landing in a few minutes. I got your sandwiches out the fridge and sparkling apple cider for you guys.” Tony hands the items to Peter and two champagne glasses.

“Oh, thanks Mr. Stark.” Tony waves him off, “Don’t tell the others, but you’re both my favorites in this building.” The smile on Peter’s face widens.

“I’ll get outta your hair. Good job on the room by the way, good luck!” Tony leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. Peter sets the sandwiches on your desk and takes the roses again. If Mr. Stark liked how your room was decorated then so will you, hopefully. He sits on your chair and waits for you to come through the door. He waits for a few more minutes until he distinctly hears your voice from behind the door.

He gets up again and fixes his hair and clothes. His heart skips a beat when the handle of your door twisted. The door opens painfully slow till it finally revealed you behind it. You stumble in shock once you enter your room.

“Hi.” He breathes out, hands tightening around the stems of the roses.

“Hey.” You greet him shutting the door behind you. Peter scanned your body, not to ogle at you in your suit, but to check if you had any injuries. You walk towards him and stop when you’re just inches away from him.

“How was the mission? Are you hurt?” He questions you. You fondly shake your head at him, a soft smile gracing your lips. “It was good, we were just gathering intel, nothing too hectic.” You reassure him. Peter nods in response while your eyes dance around the room.

“What’s all this, Pete?” You ask him, a playful glint in your eyes. Peter swallows nervously and offers you the flowers. You quietly thank him, admiring the red and pink flowers.

“Well, remember that one night during patrol?”

“Yes, I do. You had a question for me.”

“Yeah—um I’m gonna ask you that question right now.” Peter explains, fiddling with his hands.

“Okay. But are the heart lights supposed to be a hint because I kinda have a feeling I already know what you want to ask me?” You take one of his hands and interlock it with yours. Peter eases up and chuckles bashfully, swinging your hands from side to side.

“I’ve been trying to ask you this for weeks now and every time people would get in the way of me asking you. I wanted it to be perfect and everything—because you’re perfect. And you deserve something romantic and extravagant for Valentine’s Day. I was gonna give you a sandwich and a box of chocolates; because it’s what I can get with my money. Then Mr. Rhodey called me out so Mr. Stark gave me money and—“ He was in the middle of explaining when you interjected.

“Peter, you’re rambling.” You giggle squeezing his hand.

“I know, I’m nervous, I’m sorry.” He apologized blushing. You shook your head and pulled him closer to you, “You don’t need to be nervous, just ask me the question, Pete.”

He looks down at you, gazing into your eyes, “(Y/n), will you be my Valentine?”

You beam up at him, “I would love to be your Valentine, Peter Parker.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

I'm feeling under the weather. Would you write some scenarios of how the GOM boys + Kagami would take care of me to help me feel better???

Awwww! I’m so sorry to hear that!! I hope you feel better ^_^. Hope this helps too! It’s a little long with all the boys. So rest of the GOM + Kagami is under the cut.

Akashi:

Being sick was the worst. Between the body aches & pains, general lethargy, you hadn’t gotten out of bed hardly at all today. You barely had the energy to get up and call school this morning to tell them you weren’t coming. Thankfully, they hadn’t pressed, and wished you a speedy recovery for returning to class on Monday.

That was your wish too.

You didn’t want anyone to know you were sick.

Sleeping most of the day, you were surprised to hear the doorbell much later in the afternoon. This would be the time you would normally just be getting home from school. So, who could possibly expect you to be home right now?

“Akashi-kun…?” You said in surprise. Finding your boyfriend, and his dreamy duel-colored eyes, on the other side of your door.

“Hello darling.” The brilliant red head greeted with a soft smile. As if it was perfectly natural for him to be here. “I heard you were under the weather. So I came to check on you. I also brought a physician to check in on you as well.” You look past Akashi finally to see a nice, older looking gentleman in a white lab coat with a crescent eyed smile.

“Akashi-kun, I already went to the doctor. That’s how I know I’m sick.”

“This doctor is better.” He announced as he saw himself in, with his doctor, and led you over to the couch. “He’s the personal physician for the Akashi family. His credentials are far superior to that of your typical clinic doctor.” You want to say something to him about how it didn’t take ‘superior credentials’ to diagnosis a cold, but Akashi was already positioning you on the couch. He gave you another soft smile before he turned to the doctor with a much cooler look and told him to get to work.

Sure enough, you still have a cold. “Gee, I’m so glad you brought such a brilliant doctor all the way here for me Sei-kun.” You quip sarcastically. Using your familiar nickname now that you were alone.

“Humor me, alright.” He replied. Bringing over the tray of tea he had been busying himself with while the doctor examined you. “I was worried when you didn’t come to school today. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you….” You mutter into your tea cup once he had handed it to you. “I know…you get worried about people you care about being sick, after what happened to your mom. When Kuroko was sick last winter you practically wore a trench in the floor pacing ‘til you knew he was better.” Your fingers run the brim of the tea mug. Soaking up the warmth in your hands as you hold it. “I thought I could get over it before you found out, so you wouldn’t have to be the wiser. I guess that was pretty stupid hn? You always figure everything out.”

Akashi looked at you with a soft expression. Then he leaned in to kiss your warm forehead. “You’re not stupid. Don’t ever say that about yourself.” He told you. “And yes, it’s true. I get worried when people I care about are ill. But more than that I get worried when people don’t tell me things. When my mother was sick, no one told me anything. They said she was fine. Then one day she was just gone. Being in the dark is worse than just knowing the truth. So I must insist that you tell me these things in the future. Ok?”

You smile a little. You can tell he was trying really hard not to make this an order; his orders were absolute after all. But he was trying to make sure that he was kept in the loop in the future. He was worried about you.

You smile a little and snuggle into Akashi’s chest. “Yes kotei-kun.”

Midorama:

Thank God Japan had such strict firearm laws, because if you had a gun right now you’d shot yourself.

Ok, no you wouldn’t. But death would be a sweet blessing over this cold. This 24-hour bug thing hit you hard and hit you fast. Crippling you from a once vibrant human being to a walking corpse in less than a few hours. You sincerely wished that it was only 24 hours.

You hear the doorbell from the kitchen and hope it’s your soup. Too weak to even make your own food, you’d begrudgingly ordered some hot broth in an attempt to eat and keep up your strength.

You open the door to surprisingly find not your soup but Shutoku’s positive point guard standing there. “Takao?”

“Hi [Y/N]-chan!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Shin-chan heard you were sick. So, he wanted to come take care of you.” Holding of a napsack of supplies.

You blink once, looking around to see if you had somehow missed Midorima in your fever fogged mind. “He’s…here?”

“Don’t just stand in the door way and let the cold air in. You’re just going to make your cold worse.”

You blink again and Takao gave an awkward laugh as he scratched the back of his head, before revealing a small green walkie-talkie from his pocket. “He didn’t want to get sick himself.”

A grumble of irritation left your lips. “So Shintaro sent you to do his dirt work, as usual.” Takao laughed again. “Tell him thanks but no thanks. I don’t want any second-hand bedside manner, and I’m just going to sleep anyway.”

“Oy! [Y/N]-chan! Don’t be like that!” The dark-haired teen’s hand lanced out to catch the door. Barring you from closing it. “Shin-chan was really worried when you didn’t come to school today. Honest. He does want to help. You just know how he is though. I know it’s not the same as coming up here himself, but he bought all this stuff and wrote down all these instructions for me to help make you feel better.”

You look at the bag Takao had in his hand. It did seem like a lot. Midorima must have gone to several different drug stores to pick it all up and bring it over here. Even if he did stay in the parking lot. You look past Takao down to the ground floor, where Midorima was standing looking up at your apartment. Seeming to wait for you to follow his instructions about going inside but also with that steadfast look he got when he was truly worried about something.

“You just don’t want to go back down there and tell him you failed.” The boy in front of you laughed with an awkward ‘maybe’. “You can’t stay too long. My parents are going to be back after work, and they’re not going to be happy about a boy in my room and another one looking real stalkery in the parking lot.”

“Thanks [Y/N]!” Takao said as you let him in.

“Make sure they take the cold medicine now, before it gets too late. It’s one cap full every 4 hours. Drink some of the green tea I made for you. It’s in the green thermos. The red one is soup.”

“I know how to take medicine Shintaro. And I already ordered food before you got here. It’s on its way so-Wait! Why am I arguing with a walkie-talkie!?!”

Aomine:

You have an absolutely splitting headache. To the point that every time you get up to go to the bathroom and throw up, you check to see if an icepick is somehow lodged in the back of your skull.

Why did you have to get sick today? Aomine was going to kill you for missing his game; even if the outcome was inevitable. His love for basketball was second only to you (and sometimes you weren’t sure about the ranking). So you being at his games was what he loved most of all. If you weren’t there to see him crush whatever team into dust and lead his team to victory, you’d never hear the end of it. Maybe you’d get lucky and he’d get in the Zone early on and not even realize you weren’t there. Yeah…that was possible….

You crack your eyes open into painful, narrow slits from under the covers as you realize the pounding you were hearing was not just in your head but at the door. What idiot was banging on your door in the middle of the afternoon?

Steeling yourself to get up and answer the door. You were surprised to find it was your idiot behind the door. Aomine standing there, in his trademark Too warmup suit and equally trademark scowl.

“Aomine? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?!”

“I kind of live here.”

Aomine tsked through his teeth with a sneer. “That’s not what I meant, baka! Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?!”

“Oh….” You blink a little in surprise. What was a good way to tell him that you didn’t think he’d care? “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“It’s not, but you should still tell me about it!” He told you. “I had to hear about it from Satsuki. Do you know how stupid that makes me look if I don’t know that my own s/o is sick?!”

“So are you mad that I didn’t tell you? Or are you mad that I made you look stupid?”

“I’m mad at both!” Aomine yelled. He then seemed to realize he was yelling at a sick person, and his s/o, so he took a breath and calmed down. “Here.”

You look down at the convenience store bag he offered you. Taking it in your hands. “What’s this?”

“Jellies.” He replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t know which flavor you’d like when you’re sick, so I just got a bunch of ‘em.”

You blink at the bag, then up at Aomine. He…got these for you? You can see on his face now that he was angry because he was worried about you. Not that you were going to miss the game, but because he was worried about you. Your beautiful basketball ace was too proud to admit it though. “Thanks.” You said softly, with an equally soft smile.

The ace looked away and rubbed the back of his head while he was at it. “Yeah well, jellies always made me feel better when I was sick as a kid. Figured they’d make you feel better too.”

“I really appreciate it. I haven’t been able to keep much down.” Maybe that was TMI, but hey. Relationships weren’t always moonbeams and rainbows. “These will really hit the spot.”

“Well, I got extra red ones in there for you, so crack one open.” Aomine said as he saw himself past you and into your apartment.

“Hold on! You’re eating my present now?! Wait…hang on a minute, aren’t you supposed to be warming up for your game? How are you going to get back in time for starting line up if you’re here now?”

“I’m skipping it.” The blunette answered as if it was obvious. Taking off his windbreaker jacket and throwing it in a chair, before he flopped himself on your couch with his limbs stretched out to take up most of it. “There’s no one strong on that team anyway. So, it’s no fun. Let those other guys put in the work for once. They can’t expect me to carry the team all the time. So annoying….”

You stare at Aomine. Was he really….skipping basketball….to be with you here when you’re sick?

A warm feeling, you’re sure was not your fever this time, spread over you. He really did care, didn’t he?

“You should really put those in the fridge before they get warm. Warm jellies are the worst. I still want a red one though. Maybe two now that I think about it.”

You grumble as the ‘warm feeling’ starts to dissipate. Still harboring in your chest, but certainly less profound than it was a moment ago. “It’s super rude to eat someone’s present when they haven’t even had one of them, Aomine.” You still give him the red ones though.

Kise:

Your kingdom for another box of tissues. At the rate you were running through them, a small rainforest was in serious jeopardy.

If you didn’t feel so cruddy, you’d be more worried about that fact. Right now, however, you just wanted your nose to stop running. You had been sneezing and sniffling all day, and in an effort to not be labelled ‘Typhoid Mary’ chosen to stay home from school. It was the reasonable thing to do. When you were sick.  

You finish blowing your nose for the umpth time when your phone rang. You pick it up and answer with a gravely, “hello?”

“[Y/N]-CCHI!!”

You pull the phone away from your ear at the loud, sobbing cry of your name through the phone from your boyfriend. “Kise…don’t yell…”

“[Y/N]-cchi! You’re sick! Why didn’t you tell me?? Kurokocchi had to call me today and tell me!”

Damn Kuroko. That snitch. “Because it’s not a big deal. It’s just a little cold. I’ll be fine.”

“But [Y/N]-cchi! You’re all alone with no one to take care of you! I won’t be back til Sunday!” Kise had gotten a modeling job out of town for the weekend. Some ‘on location’ gig for some sea side pics. Poor Kise. He must be freezing. But, those photos needed to be done and printed long in advance before summer time to boost sales.

If you had had to put money on it, you would have thought he would be the sick one: running around half naked on a frozen beach in January. Yet here you were.

“Do you think I just sit in a dark closet, with nobody around, until you show up again Kise?” A dramatic gasp was heard on the other end of the phone. “I’m not ‘alone’ Kise. I mean, I am now, but I have people around me to help if I need it. So you don’t have to worry.”

“But I’m not around to help you!” Kise whined. You can practically hear the broken-hearted boyfriend emoji floating around his head. “Let me at least order you some soup. Soup is what sick people eat right? That place near your house has that chicken ramen you like. Chicken ramen is like chicken soup. That’s what people eat when they’re sick right?? Or maybe you want something else?? What’s another thing that sick people eat?!”

“Ryouta!” You have to yell his first name to get him out of the spiral. You love Kise, but every now and then his boundless energy was annoying. You let out a sigh, and tell him, “yes, you can order me some food. Don’t go overboard.”

Kise perked up. You do kind of wish you could see his smiling face. It was so cute when he did these adorable 180s. He promised not to go overboard before he hung up the phone and ordered you some food. He then immediately called you back to let you know it would be there in 20 minutes, and told you all about his day.

He stayed with you on the phone when your food came, and even after. You watched one of your favorite movies on Netflix party, curled up in your blankets on your bed. If you closed your eyes and focused on the warmth of your blankets & Kise’s soft voice in your ear, it was almost like he was here.

You fell asleep to that feeling. Feeling much better after you woke up and waiting for Kise to come home.

Kuroko:

You toss and turn a little in your sleep, trying to get back to it as you’ve actually woken up and want to sleep more. Rest was the only cure for a cold. And although you were still tired, even though you’d stayed home and slept all day, you were apparently too tired to fall back asleep.

You crack your eyes open. Your vision blurry for a moment before it clears up. Leaving you with a sea of blue in front of you. “Hello [Y/N].”

You let out a surprise shriek, followed by an almost perfect imitation of your boyfriend’s Ignite Pass against his face. “K-Kuroko!” You stammer, as the young man in question tried to recover from the shattering blow you just gave him. “I’m so sorry! What are you doing here?!”

“Your mother let me in.” He replied, words muffled by his hand. He pulled it away to inspect it and seemed to find no blood. That was a relief. You’d feel so bad if you both were down for the count. “I wanted to see you, and bring you your course work for today.”

Ah. So that’s how he got in. You didn’t think your mother would just let a high school boy in your room unsupervised. Also, maybe it was because Kuroko looked so unthreatening. If only she knew. “Thanks. Sorry again.”

“It’s alright. I should have known better than to sneak up on a sick person.” He said with a soft smile. His hand reached out to pet your head. “How are you feeling?”

“Still crummy,” you confess, “but on the mend. I’m sure I’ll be back to school on Monday.”

“Good. Everyone at school misses you. Even the senpais were asking about you today.”

“Did you miss me Kuroko?” You ask sheepishly.

To which he got a surprised expression before softening and immediately answering, “yes.”

Your face warmed with something other than a fever, and you pulled your blanket up to your nose. “You should go. I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“I’ll stay for a little bit longer. Don’t worry. I won’t get sick.”

It was a big fat lie as Kuroko was sick immediately after he left. He really should have known better with his borderline frail physique for anything other than basketball. Still, it was nice to talk to him for a while. And you got to take care of him after you were better, so it was all worth it.

Murasakibara:

‘Just a few more hours. You can do this.’

You keep repeating that to yourself over and over again in your head as you trudge down the hall. Only a few more classes and you could go home to die in peace. Why did you have to have a test today?!

Your penance march comes to a halt when you run into somebody. Looking up you realize it was Murasakibara. “Oh, sorry Mura-kun. I didn’t see you there.” You really must be sick if you hadn’t noticed the tower that was your boyfriend and Yosen center.

“[Y/N]-cchi, you don’t look so good.” The purple haired man drawled.

You frown up at him, not needing to hear that right now. “That’s not very nice to say to your s/o, Mura-kun.”

“But it’s the truth.” He told you. “Honesty is the best policy.” You couldn’t really argue with him there. Besides, you were too weak to argue.

Suddenly your vision was dark. You were worried for a second that you might have blacked out in your sick induced state, but quickly realize that Murasakibara’s large hand was on your face. “Mura-kun, let go.”

“You have a fever.” He replied, completely ignoring your protest. He still let you go, of his own volition, and stood to his full height again. “You need to go to the nurse.”

“No. I need to go to class.” You state in a huff. Batting his hands away in an effective, but weak manner, before walking past him to head just there.

You make it about three steps before Murasakibara grabbed you. Lifting you up in the air with ease and throwing you over his shoulder, in a move that would have made your head spin normally. Not to mention if you had a fever. “Atsushi! Let go!” You shout. Squirming and kicking your legs to no avail.

“No. You need to go to the nurse.” He repeated. Carrying you like a sack of potatoes as he walked down the hall.

“Put me down Atsushi! This is embarrassing! I need to go to class and take my test! It’s important!”

“Nothing is more important that your health.” You stop struggling for a moment as Murasakibara said something actually profound for once. “[Y/N]-cchi needs to take care of themselves, or they’ll just get sicker and get others sick. Tests and silly stuff like school work can wait.”

You grumble and slump down on Murasakibara’s shoulder. It wasn’t like him to be this serious. He also seemed very serious about taking you to the nurse. Nothing seemed capable of deterring him from that path. “Mura-kun, can you put me down? I’ll go to the nurse with you, but this isn’t really comfortable and I can walk on my own.”

He stopped. Then gave you a side ways glance out of the corner of his eye, seeming to not trust you, but still gave in and sat you down. “[Y/N]-cchi is gonna be good?”

“Yes,” you tell him, “I’ll be good.”

He escorted you the rest of the way to the nurses station. Asking if he could have a lollipop, and annoyed when they didn’t have one. What kind of a doctor’s office was this if they didn’t have lollipops, he asked. You’d giggled a little bit and told him to get to class. You’d call him later, since your parents were going to have to pick you up and take you home. You 100% had a fever and were told to go home. Murasakibara pet your head once more before he left to get to class.

The next day, when you were home recuperating, your mother had come into your room with a big candy store bag. “Someone left this big bag of lollipops at the door for you. Do you have any idea who it’s from?”

Kagami:

“I’m really ok Mom….No, it’s not that serious….You really don’t have to come home. Dad either. It’s not the first time I’ve had a cold, and I’m just gonna sleep it off. I’ll be fine by myself…..Yes, I got medicine….No. I’ll be ok. I have a friend from school who’s checking in on me….I love you too. Bye.”

“Your Mom ok?” You look up from the couch when Kagami came up behind it. Handing you a bottle of water for your scratchy sounding throat.

“Yeah. She’s ok. Just worried. She asked if I wanted her to come home, but I told her no.” You hate to admit it but you’re pretty sure it was a hollow gesture. Your parents work was very important. You had learned that early on growing up. They missed certain things in the trade off for having very important, successful careers. One of which was taking care of their child when they were sick.

“You also didn’t tell her it was me who was here. How come?”

“You want me to call her back and tell her we’re playing house?” You ask, with as cheeky of a grin as you can muster being sick. It still got the desired result.

“We’re not playing house!”

“Doctor then?”

Your cute boyfriend turned about as red as his hair, and stalked off back to the kitchen while fluster muttering to himself.

You chuckle a little. Which turned into a coughing fit, so you had to drink a little bit of water.

You and Kagami had initially bonded over being “latchkey kids”. Though your situation was not as severe as Kagami’s, with your parents still being in the country at least, they both traveled for work a lot and were rarely home. They tried to stagger their work trips so you wouldn’t be home alone, but this wasn’t the first time.

This also wasn’t the first time you would be alone when you were sick, if it hadn’t been for Kagami.

“Aren’t you worried you’re going to get sick?” You ask from the living room. Your voice squeaking and squawking the whole time.

“I never get sick.” He replied back confidently. Then rounded the corner with a tray you were 90% sure you did not have in your house before now. “Basketball and eating right keeps me healthy. So, I never get sick. You don’t have to worry.”

“I don’t think eating a dozen cheeseburgers a day counts as ‘eating right’.” You tell him.

Kagami grumbled. Seeming to want to argue or say something, but realizing its bad form to fight with a sick person. Instead, he just sat the tray down in front of you and sat on the couch. “What’s this?”

“Chicken noddle soup,” he replied. “Japan doesn’t have the right noodles. So I had to use soba. But the main part should be the same.”

“You made me chicken soup?”

Kagami tensed for a moment. His face turning hot pink again; possibly from the soft expression on your face or the soft sound of your voice. He turned away, scratching his cheek. “Y-Yeah. Like I said, it’s important to eat right to keep healthy. So…So eat up so you can be at school on Monday. It sucks when you’re not there.”

You smile softly at Kagami, then lean over to give him a peck on the cheek. “You said you never get sick right?” You tell him when he looked at you. His cheeks still pink, but not much pinker than before.

You eat your soup and gush constantly over how tasty it was. Kagami seemed super proud. Cooking and basketball were the two skills he was most proud of, and knowing that you liked something he made made him puff out his chest even more.

After your soup he made you a bowl of ice cream you were also 90% sure you did not have in your house before now and watched a movie.

After that, Kagami said he was going to head home but when he stood up from the couch you hand lanced out and grabbed onto his shirt tail on it’s on. “Could…Could you stay?” You’ll blame the weak sounding tone of your voice on your cold later. “I know I told my mom that I’d be fine on my own but….I really don’t want to be alone.”

The red headed ace blinked, seeming surprised by your confession (that you were also totally going to blame on your cold later). He gave you a soft smile and sat back down on the couch. Pulling you into his arms so you were practically in his lap. “You could have just told me that.”

[arrowflier]

Ian growing his first tomatoes and being proud of himself really excited to share them with Mickey and cooking with them everyday. But what he doesn't know is that tomatoes don't agree with Mickey. They upset his stomach and make him feel sick. He loves seeing Ian so happy and proud of himself so he doesn't tell him and eats everything he makes him. Ian eventually realizes what's going on. A prompt if you'd like to write it

Content Warnings: food, vomit

The first time it happened, Mickey assumed it was a coincidence. 

Ian had been so fucking excited for his first tomato crop; he'd spent ages looking up recipes, running ideas past anyone who would listen, and scrounging through old boxed from the house to look for weird cooking shit.  He had beamed when the day of his first harvest finally came, carrying those little red fruits in his big hands so carefully that you'd be forgiven for thinking them infants, or puppies, or some other fragile living thing.

So after an hour of Ian washing, slicing, and cooking up his new pride and joy, there was no way in he'll Mickey was going to ruin his husband's happy smile by telling him that just the smell of dinner was making his stomach churn.

It was probably nothing, he told himself, choking down bite after bite, letting out agreeable little hums after each one just to add to the sparkle in Ian's eyes.

Maybe lunch wasn't sitting well; he should have known not to eat anything offered by the Alibi, even under new management (especially under new management).  That had to be it.  There was no way it had anything to do with the dish Ian had painstakingly made from ingredients so fresh they had still been on the vine just hours before.

So Mickey swallowed his bile with the last bite on his plate, asked for seconds, and ate that too.  Then he made his excuses, ran down to the little restroom off the gym, and threw it all up where Ian wouldn't have to see.  He ignored the visible seeds and flecks of red tomato skin as he flushed the evidence away.

Just a coincidence, that was all.  Next time would go better.

The second time it happened, Mickey thought that maybe Ian was just a bad cook.  Ian's courage had been bolstered by his "successful" first attempt, apparently, because this time he went all out.  He'd even traded one of his precious tomatoes for some fresh herbs from the plot next to his in the community garden, just to make it special.

And special it was.  A special he'll, more like, when Mickey nearly voided his bowels an hour later on their new sofa.  He leapt up and made it to the bathroom just in time, and spent the next thirty minutes trying to quietly take care of things so Ian wouldn't hear.

Of course, Ian did hear, and he just had to ask about it.  They were getting ready for bed, Mickey tugging on a too-large sleep shirt from a pile of Ian's laundry, when a hand landed lightly on his waist.

"Feeling better?" Ian asked softly, rubbing soothing circles into the stretched skin of Mickey's sore belly.

"Uh, yeah," Mickey hedged, not wanting to reveal his lingering discomfort.  "It's nothing, really."

"You sure?" Ian asked, pressing closer against his back as his hand migrated to rest over Mickey's chest.  "You can tell me if something made you sick, you know," he said.  "I won't take it personally."

If he wasn't used to Ian hitting close to home while having absolutely no knowledge of what he was talking about, Mickey might have wondered then if his husband was catching on.

But it was an innocent enough question, after all.

"Nah, man," he said, pulling away to sit on the bed.  "Probably picked up a bug on our rounds or something."

Ian looked unconvinced, biting his lip, and Mickey rushed to reassure him.

"I'm be right as rain tomorrow," he promised.  "Just you watch."

Ian hesitated, but ultimately nodded, and joined him in bed.  He curled just a little tighter around Mickey than normal, hand resting carefully on his stomach.

It wasn't a lie, Mickey figured as he waited for sleep to claim him.  He would be fine by morning.  And next time, he'd do the cooking himself, just in case, and then this couldn't happen again.

By the third time, just the next morning, Mickey finally had to admit what he dreaded all along: it really was the goddamned tomatoes.

He’d made the omelets himself, using normal ingredients they got from the store, all things he had eaten before.  He’d mixed in some diced tomato, just for flavor, and because he knew Ian would like it.

And like it Ian did.  His husband was chowing down like someone might take away his plate if he didn’t eat fast enough, barely stopping to sip at his coffee, while Mickey sat silently across from him.

The first bite of his eggs had already almost done him in, the taste of the tomato now forever associated with stomach cramps and bile and bloating.  He knew there was no way for it to be effecting him already, but his stomach clenched when he tried to lift another bite to his lips, and he set down his fork with a clatter.

Ian stopped eating.

“Everything okay, Mickey?” he asked, concerned.  “You’ve barely touched your breakfast.”

“What are you lookin’ at my breakfast for?” Mickey deflected.  “Eyes on your own fuckin’ plate, you’ve got yours.”

Ian obediently ducked his head, but still managed to catch Mickey poking a chunk of tomato away from everything else on his plate.

“You don’t like the tomato?” he asked, ignoring Mickey’s exasperated sigh at his interference.  “I think they really add something.”

“Love them,” Mickey answered with a forced, toothy smile.  “Just saving the best for last.”  He stabbed at the tomato with his fork, spearing it, and lifted it to his lips to make a point.

“Yum,” he said around it as he chewed and forced himself to swallow.  “See?  Delic--”

Then he was up, away from the table, and running to the kitchen sink as it came right back up.

“Mickey, what the fuck?” Ian yelled, his chair sliding back with a screech as he hurried to join Mickey at the counter.

“Sorry,” Mickey managed, head still down, as Ian rubbed his back.  “Think something’s wrong with me; didn’t mean to waste it.”

Ian’s hand stilled.

“Waste it?” he asked.  “Mickey, what are talking about?”

“The tomatoes, Ian,” Mickey sighed.  “I know you’re fuckin’ proud of ‘em or whatever, but I just can’t keep ‘em down.”

“Can’t keep them...” Ian started, then stopped.  His hand fell away, only to reappear on the back of Mickey’s neck, forcing his to lift his head and look at him.

“Mickey,” Ian said firmly.  “How long has this been going on?”

Mickey didn’t answer.  Ian shook him, just lightly, then winced when it set him retching again into the stainless steel sink.

“How long have my tomatoes been making you sick, Mickey?” he asked again, quieter, and Mickey finally gave in.

“Few days,” he muttered, and Ian let go of him completely.

“A few--Mickey, it’s only been a few days.  And I’ve been putting them in everything.”

Ian sounded worried, almost distraught, and that was exactly what Mickey had been trying to avoid.

“No, it’s fine,” he insisted, pushing away from the sink.  He forced himself to swallow past the burning bile in his throat.  “I’m not some fuckin’ pussy-ass kid, Gallagher, I know how to work through a fuckin’ stomach ache.”

If anything, that only made Ian look more concerned.

“I know you do, Mick,” he said.  “But why the hell did you think you had to?  Terry’s gone, we’re doing good; you know you don’t need to do shit like that anymore.”

Oh.  

“You’re not upset?” Mickey asked, just to clarify, and Ian rubbed a hand over his face.

“Of course I’m upset, Mickey,” he sighed.  “You lied to me for days because what, you didn’t want to look weak?”

“No,” Mickey said.  “Cause I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Ian took a deep breath.

“Mickey,” he said slowly.  “I promise my feelings aren’t hurt just because you can’t stomach tomatoes.  It really wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

Mickey shrugged.  “I should be able to, though,” he said.  “Ketchup, soup, fucking pasta--I eat all that no problem, and we just had extra sauce on our pizza last week.  It’s just...”

He hesitated to say it out loud.

“Just my tomatoes,” Ian finished for him.  ‘Right.”

Ian took a step forward, and took Mickey’s hand.  He guided him back over to the table, sat him down--moving his plate away so he didn’t have to look at it--and joined him there.

“Mickey,” he started.  “Maybe it’s not just that.”  Mickey bit his lip, figuring that Ian cared more than he let on if he wanted to find some other excuse, but what his husband said next surprised him.

“I mean,” Ian continued, “it’s not like either of us had a lot of fresh ingredients around growing up.”

Well, he was right about that.

“And really fresh stuff, not processed, none of the preservative shit we’ve been eating our whole lives...well, it’s not your fault that your system doesn’t know what to do with it.”

“Still wish I could eat it,” Mickey grumbled, feeling a little better in spite of himself.  “It makes you so happy, man, and I had to go and ruin it.”

Ian laughed.

“You didn’t ruin anything, you idiot,” he said fondly.  “But next time I want to try something new, maybe we’ll take it a little slower, yeah?”

Mickey nodded.

“And maybe,” Ian added, “You’ll tell me there’s a problem before you puke all over our dishes.”

Mickey looked over to the sink, where sure enough, the majority of their dishes were piles and waiting to be washed, now needing it more than ever.

Oops.

“At least they were already dirty?” he said, and Ian smiled.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “At least there’s that.”

He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to Mickey’s head.  Then he grabbed up Mickey’s unfinished breakfast and a fork.

“Really, Gallagher?” Mickey asked.  “You still wanna eat after that?”

“Why not?” Ian answered, mouth already full.  “Besides, if you don’t like it,” he added, a stray piece of egg clinging to the side of his mouth, “then all the more for me.”

It was Mickey’s turn to grin, even as he watched the gruesome show that was Ian trying to eat.

Tomatoes or not, table manners or not, he really loved that man.