#n now they’re both ill!! surprise!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidmarieprentiss · 2 months ago

Text

Oops: Wrong Person

Summary: Spencer and you share a steamy night together, but when you go to spill the details to Emily, you accidentally send the text to the person of interest... will Spencer see it before you can fix things?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: NSFW (18+) additional warnings under the cut, alcohol consumption, talks of hangover, mention of a gun, sending text to wrong person, happy ending

Word count: 7.2k

a/n: shout out to @imagining-in-the-margins for pulling me out of my writers slump with their wrong recipient challenge !!! not proofread :/

prompts used: Character sends their friend a detailed review of their recent sexual encounter… and accidentally sends it to the person they’re reviewing

Character enlists Penelope’s help in hacking into someone’s device to delete an unintended message

main masterlist

Additional warnings: allusions to sex, oral (fem receiving)

The evening began innocently enough—just another night out with the team, exchanging stories and letting Penelope’s latest matchmaking attempts provide ample fodder for laughter. You and Spencer had been particularly unlucky in love lately, both of you enduring one disastrous date after another. Penelope had insisted she had "the perfect person" for each of you, but after a string of ill-suited setups, neither of you were optimistic. It was that shared frustration that had the two of you lingering over drinks a little longer than usual, swapping stories of cringe-worthy encounters and commiserating over your shared loneliness.

The conversation flowed more easily as the alcohol loosened your tongues, and you found yourselves laughing more, teasing less, and unearthing unexpected commonalities. Spencer wasn’t just the brilliant, socially awkward genius you’d always known—there was warmth, wit, and a surprising sense of humor that made you start to see him in a different light. For his part, Spencer found himself captivated by the way your eyes lit up as you recounted your tales, his usual nervousness fading as he grew more comfortable in your presence.

When the team decided to call it a night, Spencer insisted on walking you home. "You shouldn’t be out alone this late," he said, his tone firm but his gaze soft. The cool night air sobered you both slightly, but the buzz of the evening lingered as you strolled side by side. When you reached your front door, you turned to thank him, but Spencer hesitated. There was a moment—a pause filled with unspoken words—before he asked, almost shyly, "Can I kiss you?"

The question caught you off guard, but the answer came easily. “Yes,” you whispered, and the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, tentative at first but quickly deepening with urgency. The kiss ignited something you hadn’t expected, and before long, the two of you were tangled in your sheets, surrendering to the pull of the moment.

But now, as the morning light crept through the blinds, unwelcome and far too bright for how your head pounded and your stomach churned. The first thing you registered was warmth—Spencer’s arm draped over your waist, his face tucked into the pillow mere inches from yours. His soft breaths were the only sound in the room, aside from the dull hum of the city outside.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as the reality of the night before came crashing down like an avalanche. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing, hoping, that somehow, this was a vivid dream. But the ache in your muscles and the tangling of limbs beneath the sheets told you otherwise.

How had it come to this? You’d both sworn off dating for a while after Penelope’s well-meaning but disastrous matchmaking attempts, bonding over how exhausting it was to keep picking yourselves up after failure. You’d laughed, drank more than you should have, and for the first time, Spencer wasn’t just your quirky, brilliant colleague—he was just a man. A man with soft brown eyes, a boyish smile, and the kind of awkward charm that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, someone understood.

And then he’d walked you home. You had both hesitated on your doorstep, the air thick with unspoken words and the lingering spark of a night full of confessions. Spencer had looked at you, his cheeks flushed and his voice almost trembling as he asked if he could kiss you.

God, you’d wanted to say no. You should have said no. But the way he looked at you, with a vulnerability so raw and genuine, made it impossible. And when his lips met yours, all the doubts and hesitations had melted away. At least until now.

A quiet groan escaped your lips as you gingerly shifted away from his arm, careful not to wake him. You needed space—space to think, space to breathe. Tugging on a shirt discarded on the floor, you padded to the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter as you stared blankly at the coffee maker.

This wasn’t just a mistake; it was a colossal, earth-shattering disaster. Spencer wasn’t just some random guy at a bar; he was your coworker, your teammate. You weren’t supposed to cross those lines, especially not in a way that could make things awkward for the entire team.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, willing away the threatening sting of tears. "What the hell were we thinking?" you muttered to yourself, though you already knew the answer. You were thinking about loneliness, about longing, about the fleeting comfort of being wanted. You were thinking about Spencer's warm smile and the way he looked at you like you were the most fascinating person in the world.

The sound of movement behind you snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. You turned to find Spencer standing in the doorway, his hair disheveled and his shirt haphazardly buttoned. He looked at you with a mixture of shyness and concern, clearly unsure of what to say.

"Good morning," he said softly, his voice cracking slightly.

You swallowed hard, forcing a tight smile. "Morning."

An awkward silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Spencer shifted on his feet, glancing around the room before his eyes landed on you. "Are you okay?" he asked, his brow furrowing in that familiar, thoughtful way.

"Yeah," you lied quickly, your voice pitching just a little too high to be convincing.

Spencer’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head, scrutinizing you in that way only Spencer could—like he was dissecting every layer of your soul. “You’re lying,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact, devoid of judgment. “Do you regret last night?”

His words hit you harder than you expected. The vulnerability in his gaze—those soft, questioning hazel eyes—made your heart ache. You could feel the truth rising in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You couldn’t bear to hurt him, not after everything.

“I only regret drinking so much,” you said instead, forcing a weak smile and hoping it was enough. “I’m horribly hungover.”

For a moment, Spencer stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, to your immense relief, his lips quirked into a small, understanding smile, and he even chuckled softly. “Yeah, we might have overdone it a bit,” he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you making coffee?”

You nodded, grateful for the shift in focus. As the coffee brewed, the familiar aroma filling your small kitchen, the tension eased. You poured two mugs and handed one to Spencer, who took it with a quiet “thanks” and a smile. The two of you sat at your tiny dining table, sipping the hot brew and talking about the most recent case. It was like slipping back into the roles you knew, the professional partnership that felt safe and predictable.

When Spencer finally stood to leave, he hesitated by the door. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said softly, lingering for just a moment before stepping out into the morning sun.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the silence in your apartment felt deafening. You slumped into your chair, staring at the coffee cup he’d left behind. You’d managed to keep the lie intact, but it didn’t make the knot in your stomach feel any less tight. If anything, it made it worse.

Later that evening, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself, you grabbed your phone and fired off a text to Emily. She was your go-to for all the juicy details and unsolicited advice, and you desperately needed her take on the situation.

Em, you’ll never believe it… I slept with Spencer! And before you even ask, no, it was not good. He was so sweet and, honestly, really attractive, but it was like he was just there to smash and dash, I swear! There was no build-up, no foreplay, it was so boring. I swear the only reason I was even wet enough was how good he looked. Em, what do I do?

You stared at the message for a moment before pressing send, your heart pounding as you anticipated her reply. You knew Emily wouldn’t hold back, but that was exactly what you needed—someone to be brutally honest with you.

Setting your phone aside, you waited for the familiar buzz of her reply. But as the minutes ticked by, your attention started to drift. The weight of the day and the lingering tension from your morning with Spencer caught up with you, and before you knew it, you had dozed off on the couch.

When you woke early the next morning, the faint glow of your phone screen illuminated the room, the only light breaking through the predawn darkness. You groaned, rubbing one eye as you sat up, feeling the stiffness in your back from spending the night on the couch. Reaching for your phone, you squinted at the screen, ready to check if Emily had replied to your late-night text.

But when you opened your conversation with her, the message you so vividly remembered typing was nowhere to be found. Confused, you stared at the blank thread for a moment.

"That's weird," you muttered to yourself. "Maybe I just dreamed I sent it."

Shrugging it off, you stretched, wincing as the ache from your uncomfortable sleeping position made itself known. After a quick shower and a cup of coffee, you pushed the odd moment out of your mind, determined to start the day fresh.

Later that morning, as you walked into the bullpen at work, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The usual hum of activity filled the air—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, voices murmuring about cases. Spencer was already at his desk, his face buried in a file, and he didn’t look up as you passed by. If he was feeling awkward about that night, he didn’t show it.

You dropped your bag onto your desk and booted up your computer, feeling a flicker of relief that everything seemed normal. The morning carried on uneventfully—until Emily strolled over, her face unreadable, and perched casually on the edge of your desk.

"Hey," she said, her tone casual as ever. "Do anything interesting this weekend?"

The question made your stomach flip. For a brief, horrifying moment, you wondered if you had sent that text after all.

Your heart pounded as you leaned in closer to Emily, lowering your voice to a whisper so that Spencer, sitting just a few feet away, wouldn’t overhear. “Did you see my text? I could have sworn I sent one last night,” you asked, keeping your tone as casual as possible despite the rising panic in your chest.

Emily frowned slightly, pulling out her phone and scrolling through your thread. “No? What was it about?” she asked, holding her screen up as proof of her empty inbox.

The confusion on your face deepened as you promised to catch her up on your weekend later. “Never mind, it’s nothing,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. But as she walked away, a gnawing sense of dread began to form in the pit of your stomach. Something felt off—terribly off.

Grabbing your phone, you scrolled through your messages, hoping, praying you’d simply forgotten to hit send or, at worst, sent it to someone like your parents or even Hotch. But when you finally found the message, your blood ran cold. There it was, the detailed, unfiltered account of your night with Spencer, sent—and the recipient was none other than Spencer Reid himself.

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt, and you couldn’t breathe. Your hands trembled as you stared at the screen, rereading the incriminating text over and over. You couldn’t even bring yourself to glance in Spencer’s direction, terrified he’d somehow know you’d realized your mistake.

Not knowing what else to do, you bolted from your desk and ran straight to Penelope’s office. You slammed the door shut behind you, startling her so badly that she let out a loud shriek.

“Y/N! What the heck, you scared me, girl!” she exclaimed, spinning around in her chair with wide eyes. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

You barely managed to catch your breath as you blurted out the words. “Can you hack into Spencer’s phone?”

“What? Why?” she asked, her confusion giving way to intrigue.

“I sent him something he was never meant to see,” you said, your voice trembling.

Penelope’s expression lit up with gleeful curiosity, her hands clasping together in delight. “Oh my god! Drama!” she squealed. “Was it something saucy?” Her grin turned wicked, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“No, Pen, nothing like that…” you lied, though your face betrayed the truth. “Just—can you do it?”

“Only if you tell me why,” she sing-songed, leaning forward as if this were the best thing to happen to her all week.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “It’s about Spencer, okay? I sent him a message I was venting to Emily about… and it’s—oh my god, Penelope, it’s bad.”

“How bad?” she pressed, practically vibrating in her seat.

You hesitated, your mind racing. “Like… it’s about bedroom activities, bad.”

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “You and Boy Wonder?” she gasped, her voice rising in pitch. “No way! Tell me everything right now, and then I’ll consider saving your butt.”

So, you spilled it all, every mortifying detail of your ill-advised text and the lackluster night with Spencer. Penelope listened with wide eyes, her hand dramatically clutching her chest as though she were living through the mortification alongside you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she interrupted at one point, holding up a finger. “Are you saying there was no foreplay? None at all? Oh, honey, that’s—oh no.” Her sympathy was so theatrical it almost made you laugh, but the weight of your predicament kept your stomach in knots.

You sighed, shaking your head. “I know, I know. It was just… disappointing. He was sweet, don’t get me wrong, but it felt so rushed, and then I panicked afterward, and now this. I just hope he hasn’t seen the text. I mean, he doesn’t check his phone often, right? Unless it’s a call or something urgent?”

Penelope tilted her head thoughtfully, tapping a glittery nail against her lips. “You’ve got a point there. Spencer isn’t exactly glued to his phone like the rest of us mere mortals. But if he has seen it…” She winced, letting the implication hang in the air.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Penelope, please. I’ll never live this down. Can you help me? Just… I don’t know, tell him it was a new protocol or something if you have to.”

Penelope’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Oh, sweetie, you know I love a good cover story. I’ll just tell him we’re testing a new security system or a phone update procedure, and I need to check his device. It’ll buy us some time, at least.”

Relief flooded you, though it was tinged with lingering dread. “You’re a lifesaver, Pen. I owe you big time.”

“Oh, you’ll owe me,” she quipped, already pulling up the tools she needed on her computer. “Now go sit tight while Mama Bear fixes your mess.”

You gave her a weak smile and stepped out of her office, nerves still on edge as you tried to focus on anything but the potential fallout. All you could do now was hope Penelope worked her magic before Spencer’s curiosity—or worse, his notifications—got the better of him.

—

It had been a few weeks since that mortifying ordeal, and life at the BAU had returned to its usual rhythm. You and Spencer were working together like nothing had happened, the two of you exchanging case theories and research notes with the same easy professionalism as always. If he had seen the text, he certainly wasn’t acting like it.

You clung to that thought, reassuring yourself every time you caught him flipping through files or muttering stats under his breath. Spencer wasn’t one to hold back if something was bothering him—if he had read the text, you were sure he would’ve said something by now. Right?

Penelope had assured you she’d taken care of it, spinning some elaborate story about a security test or protocol update to gain access to his phone. “Smooth as butter,” she’d told you with a wink. You had to trust her; if anyone could cover their tracks, it was Penelope Garcia.

Still, there were moments when a flicker of doubt would creep in, especially when you caught Spencer looking at you for a beat too long or when his smile seemed softer than usual. You wondered if he was just being his sweet, considerate self, or if there was some small part of him that knew.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. He was standing next to your desk, holding out a file. “I thought you might want to take a look at this. It’s related to the unsub’s timeline.”

“Oh, thanks,” you said quickly, accepting the file and forcing a smile. Your hands brushed briefly, and though the touch was fleeting, it sent a small jolt through you. You cleared your throat, trying to push the memory of that night further down into the recesses of your mind.

As he walked back to his desk, you let out a slow breath of relief. He was acting normal—maybe even too normal—but you decided to take it as a win. If he hadn’t mentioned anything by now, it probably meant Penelope had pulled off her mission flawlessly.

You could finally move forward, pretending nothing had ever happened. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

—

The team had gathered at the bar once again, and the night was well underway. Laughter filled the air as Penelope and Emily, true to their roles as the team’s biggest shit-stirrers, steered the conversation toward bad hookup stories. One by one, everyone chimed in with their own tales—some embarrassing, others outright hilarious. Even Hotch and Rossi surprised everyone by sharing anecdotes, their typically reserved facades melting away under the influence of camaraderie and alcohol.

You, however, stayed silent, staring intently at your soda and purposefully avoiding Spencer’s gaze. The thought of contributing to the topic sent waves of panic through you. Spencer, sipping his lemonade, seemed just as disinterested in alcohol as you were—although, unlike you, he appeared perfectly calm.

Emily, catching your silence and sensing an opportunity, smirked over the rim of her whiskey glass. “Y/N…” she began, dragging out your name in a voice that instantly made your stomach drop. “What about you? Any bad hookups recently?”

Your eyes widened, and the sip of soda you’d just taken went down the wrong way. You coughed violently, waving a hand to reassure everyone you were fine, even as your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. “H-hmm? No,” you managed to croak out, your voice high and strained. “Not, um, not too recently.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as if she could see right through you. “Not too recently?” she repeated, clearly fishing for more. “That’s a very specific answer, don’t you think?”

Penelope leaned in, her knowing grin rattling you further. “Oh, come on, Y/N! Spill it! We’ve all shared—you’re not getting out of this that easily.”

You opened your mouth, scrambling for something—anything—to say that wouldn’t give away the truth. But before you could stammer out a reply, Spencer spoke up, his tone light but pointed.

“Maybe we should let Y/N off the hook,” he said, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking back to his glass. “Not everyone wants to relive their awkward, or boring, moments.”

Your breath hitched, and time seemed to slow. Spencer’s words hung in the air, heavier than they should have been.

"Not everyone wants to relive their awkward, or boring, moments."

The word boring hit you like a brick to the chest, your mind immediately flashing back to the mortifying text you’d mistakenly sent to him weeks ago. Boring. The exact word you’d used to describe your night with him.

Your heart raced as you tried to process what this could mean. Had he seen the text? Was he throwing subtle jabs at you now, letting you know in his own understated way that he was aware of what you’d said? Or—your stomach churned—was this just a terrible coincidence?

You froze, your fingers gripping the edge of your glass as though it were the only thing keeping you grounded. Your face felt hot, and your mind scrambled for something to say, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate. All you could do was glance at him, hoping to read something in his expression, but Spencer didn’t look back at you. Instead, he sipped his lemonade nonchalantly, his face giving nothing away except perhaps the faintest flicker of amusement.

Penelope, blissfully aware of the tension now coursing through you, laughed and waved him off. “Oh, come on, Spencer. You’ve gotta admit, the awkward ones make for the best stories!”

Spencer smiled faintly but didn’t reply, his eyes fixed on the table. You, on the other hand, felt like you were going to combust. Every second stretched painfully as you tried to decipher his intent. Did he know? Had he been holding this over you all this time? If he did know, why hadn’t he said anything? And why bring it up now?

You decided you couldn’t sit there any longer. “Excuse me,” you muttered hastily, standing up and heading toward the bathroom. You needed a moment—just a moment—to breathe and figure out what the hell was happening.

Once inside, you leaned against the sink, gripping the counter as you stared at your reflection. He knows. He definitely knows, you thought, replaying his words over and over in your mind.

But what did that mean for the two of you now? And, more terrifyingly, what was he going to do about it?

When you returned to the table, you were relieved to find that the group had shifted away from the awkward topic of hookups. Instead, they were now swapping stories about their most embarrassing encounters with local law enforcement during cases. The laughter was infectious, and you felt some of the tension ease from your shoulders as you slid back into your seat.

Emily was in the middle of reenacting a particularly mortifying moment where she’d accidentally walked into the wrong briefing room during a case, only to realize it was a police academy class in session. Penelope nearly fell off her chair laughing, and even Hotch cracked a rare smile. You joined in the laughter, grateful for the distraction and the chance to blend back into the group unnoticed.

But even as you laughed, you couldn’t shake the awareness of Spencer’s gaze. It wasn’t obvious, not enough for anyone else to notice, but you felt it—the way his eyes lingered on you a second too long, the way he watched you out of the corner of his vision.

You tried to brush it off as paranoia, convincing yourself you were imagining things, but the weight of his attention was impossible to ignore. Every time you glanced his way, he quickly looked down, pretending to be focused on his drink or the conversation. Yet his subtle smirk betrayed him, like he knew something you didn’t.

Your stomach twisted again, but this time it wasn’t just embarrassment—it was something else, something harder to pin down. Was he amused? Angry? Curious? Or worse… disappointed?

“Y/N,” Emily called, pulling you back to the moment. “What about you? Didn’t you have that one time with the sheriff who thought you were the intern?”

You forced a laugh, grateful for the change of subject. “Oh, God, yes. He spent half the briefing explaining things to me like I’d never heard of basic police work. Then he asked if I could grab him coffee!” The group erupted into laughter again, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax, focusing on the good friends around you.

But even in the warmth of the group’s laughter, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Spencer’s gaze. It burned softly, quietly, but with undeniable intensity, leaving you wondering what he was thinking—and what he might be planning to say when the moment came.

After dropping Emily off and driving yourself home, you settled into the comfort of your routine, grateful to put the tension of the evening behind you. You had already changed into pajamas and washed your face when a sharp knock at the door startled you. The hour was late, and your neighborhood wasn’t exactly bustling at night, so caution kicked in immediately. Grabbing your gun—safety on, of course—you crept toward the door and checked the peephole.

The sight of Spencer standing there, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, made you release a heavy sigh. You lowered the gun, unbolting the door and opening it to find him still waiting, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination.

“Spencer?” you asked, blinking at him in surprise. “Why are you here?”

His gaze immediately dropped to the gun still loosely in your grip, and his eyebrows shot up. “Whoa,” he said with a nervous laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I come in peace. I just wanted to talk.”

You shook your head, setting the weapon on the nearby table with a faint smirk. “You picked a great time for it,” you muttered, motioning for him to come inside. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Spencer stepped past you, his movements careful and deliberate as he crossed the threshold. He paused just inside, glancing around as though he needed to steady himself. Finally, he turned to face you, his hands still tucked in his pockets, his face unreadable.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, and then tonight…” he began, his voice soft but steady.

Your stomach dropped, and you felt your pulse quicken. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you leaned against the doorframe.

His lips twitched—something between a smile and a grimace. “You know exactly what I mean,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours. “The way you froze when I said ‘boring.’ The way you’ve been avoiding looking at me for weeks. And the way you bolted when Emily tried to press you about hookups tonight.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“I saw the text,” he admitted softly, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “The one you meant to send to Emily.”

Your heart sank, and your cheeks flushed with humiliation. “Spencer, I—” you began, but he cut you off again, his voice surprisingly calm.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he continued. “I figured it was your way of processing things, and I didn’t want to make it worse. But after tonight, I realized… maybe we need to talk about it.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Spencer, I didn’t mean for you to see that. I was just… venting. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “I know you didn’t. And honestly, I’m not upset—not about what you said, anyway. But it made me think… maybe I didn’t handle things as well as I could have.”

That caught you off guard. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wasn’t exactly at my best that night. I was nervous, and I didn’t know how to… connect with you the way I wanted to. And after seeing that text, I realized I might have made you feel… unimportant. Like it didn’t mean anything to me. But it did.”

His confession left you stunned, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes—it was almost too much.

“Spencer,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I didn’t think… I mean, I didn’t realize it mattered to you that much.”

“It does,” Spencer said simply, his voice steady but his eyes searching yours. “And I want to try to redeem myself, if you’ll let me.”

“Redeem yourself?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the words catching in your throat as the air between you grew heavy with anticipation.

Spencer stepped closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you, his movements careful and deliberate. “Yeah,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. His hands found your waist, his touch light but firm as he gently pulled you closer. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, the gesture small but filled with meaning. You felt like you were in a daze, your thoughts scattered as Spencer leaned down, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips. Time seemed to slow as his face drew nearer, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was different this time—slower, deeper, infused with an unspoken promise. Spencer’s hands slid up your sides, one settling on your lower back, the other moving to cradle the side of your face. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, then curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened.

It wasn’t rushed, and it wasn’t awkward. It was intentional, every movement speaking of care and consideration. Spencer kissed you like he wanted to show you exactly how much you mattered, how much the moment mattered.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to steady yourselves. His hand remained on your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?” Spencer asked softly, his voice a delicate mixture of nerves and hope. His hand on your waist tightened ever so slightly, grounding both you and him as his hazel eyes searched yours for an answer.

Your heart fluttered at his request, the vulnerability in his expression making the moment feel intimate in a way that words couldn’t quite capture. You nodded, your lips parting slightly as you whispered, “Yeah, we can.”

He exhaled a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, his relief almost palpable. He smiled, that shy but genuine smile that made your chest ache in the best way. Taking your hand in his, he let you lead him toward the bedroom, his fingers entwining with yours in a way that felt so natural, so right.

Once inside, Spencer paused, glancing around as if he were taking in every detail of the space. You felt a rush of warmth in your cheeks, suddenly hyper-aware of your surroundings, but Spencer’s attention quickly returned to you. He reached for you again, his touch gentle as he pulled you close.

“I want to get this right,” he murmured, his voice soft and earnest. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “I don’t want you to ever feel like… like you don’t matter to me.”

The sincerity in his words struck something deep within you, and you leaned into his touch, your hands resting on his chest as you tilted your face up to him. “You don’t have to prove anything, Spencer,” you said quietly.

His lips curved into a small smile, “I want to” he said before he kissed you again, this time with a slow, deliberate tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine.

Spencer’s hands trembled slightly as he took his time this time, unhurriedly removing your clothes with a reverence that bordered on worship. Every inch of newly exposed skin was met with a gentle kiss, his lips pressing softly against your collarbone, your shoulders, the curve of your hip. His attention to every detail made your heart race and your skin hum with anticipation.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second and show you how much this moment meant to him. He whispered quiet words between kisses—gentle reassurances and praises that made you feel both seen and cherished.

By the time you were completely bare, the tension in your body had melted away, replaced by a growing warmth that seemed to spread from your chest to every corner of your being. Spencer’s hands lingered on your waist, his touch warm and grounding, before he guided you gently to lie down on the bed. His gaze never left yours, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, almost like a prayer, before straightening to remove his own clothes. Piece by piece, he stripped down, his movements still unhurried as though rushing would break the fragile intimacy between you. When he was down to just his briefs, he paused, his expression laced with vulnerability as he looked at you.

Spencer took your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he climbed onto the bed in front of you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he leaned down, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before trailing a path along your jaw and down your neck.

This wasn’t rushed or frantic. This wasn’t about proving anything or making up for past mistakes (well, maybe a little bit). This was about connection, about being fully present with each other. Spencer’s touch was gentle but firm, his kisses lingering, his hands exploring every curve and plane of your body as though memorizing you.

“You matter,” Spencer murmured against your skin, the words sending shivers down your spine as they vibrated through you. “This matters.”

“Spencer,” you groaned, your tone half-playful, half-flustered as you turned your head and buried your face in the pillow, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks.

“I mean it,” he said with a soft laugh, his lips brushing tender kisses along the curve of your hips as he began to trail his way downward. His voice was warm and genuine, the sincerity in his words making your heart ache in the best way.

You gasped softly, lifting your head from the pillow to look at him just as his hands gently spread your thighs apart. His gaze was steady but filled with unmistakable affection, the teasing grin on his face doing nothing to disguise the care in his actions.

“No foreplay?” he said, raising an eyebrow as he settled between your legs. His hands caressed your thighs, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. “What awful man made you go through that?”

The memory of your drunken text and his earlier words flashed through your mind, and your cheeks flushed even deeper. “Oh my god, Spencer,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands as he laughed softly.

“I’m serious,” he continued, his tone light but laced with playful mockery. “That’s a crime against humanity, honestly. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice dropping lower as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “I’ll make it up to you.”

The words alone sent a shiver through you, but it was the way Spencer looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment—that left you utterly breathless. And as his lips moved closer, you realized with a mix of anticipation and awe that he fully intended to prove it.

The first kiss to your most intimate skin made you yelp in shock, your body jolting at the sudden, unexpected sensation. The sound escaped you before you could even process it, and your hands flew to grip the sheets beneath you as your breath hitched.

“Someone’s sensitive,” Spencer mumbled, his voice low and teasing, the words more directed to your skin than to you. His warm breath against you made your already racing heart stutter. Before you could form a coherent response, he leaned in again, his lips pressing another kiss to your clit, this time followed by a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue.

The sensation was electric, a mix of heat and softness that sent waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn’t stop the soft moan that slipped from your lips, your head falling back against the pillow as Spencer’s hands gripped your thighs gently, holding you in place as he worked.

He moved with an almost studious precision, as though he were memorizing what made you gasp, shiver, or moan. Every touch of his lips, every flick of his tongue, was calculated yet somehow felt achingly natural, like he was simply following the rhythm of your body.

"Mm," he hummed against you, his tone almost smug as he pulled back briefly, his lips glistening. "I knew you'd taste amazing." His voice was warm, filled with an admiration that made your cheeks burn. Then, without giving you time to respond, he dove back in, his tongue and lips working together in a way that left you unable to form a single coherent thought.

You were melting, your body arching into him as your fingers tangled in the sheets. Each sensation was more intense than the last, and you found yourself utterly at his mercy, the rest of the world fading away until only Spencer remained.

And just when you thought the pleasure couldn’t possibly get any better, Spencer added one of his beautiful, long, bony fingers into the mix. The gentle yet deliberate motion of his finger sliding into you sent a shockwave of sensation through your entire body, and you couldn’t hold back the way your back arched off the bed.

“Spencer!” you yelled out, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea, your voice raw with need. The sound seemed to spur him on, and you felt his lips curve into a faint smile against your skin.

“Good?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin as he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, his expression equal parts satisfaction and adoration.

You could barely respond, your words coming out in broken gasps. “Yes—oh my god, yes!”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against you, before he returned his focus to you. His finger moved in perfect rhythm with his tongue, slow and deliberate at first, then gradually picking up a pace that had you completely unraveling beneath him. Every movement was calculated, every flick of his wrist or press of his tongue designed to draw out every sound you made, and you could feel yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

“Spencer…” you whimpered, your voice trembling as your body trembled beneath his relentless attention. You weren’t sure if you were begging him to stop or pleading for him to never stop—maybe both, maybe neither. All you knew was that he was consuming every part of you, and you didn’t want it to end.

When he added a second finger, curling them in just the right way, it pushed you over the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, crashing over you in waves so powerful that your cries filled the room as your body arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as if you needed to anchor yourself to reality.

Spencer didn’t stop, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you until you were left trembling, breathless, and completely undone beneath him. Only then did he pull back, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as he gave you a moment to catch your breath.

“You’re amazing,” Spencer murmured, his voice filled with a quiet awe as he rested his chin lightly on your hip. His hazel eyes were warm and sincere, and a soft smile tugged at his lips. “Can’t believe I missed out on this last time.”

The compliment, so earnest and sweet, made your cheeks flush. You slung an arm over your eyes, laughing softly, trying to shake off the sudden wave of shyness that washed over you. “Oh my god,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by your arm.

Spencer chuckled, his amusement clear as he pushed himself up and lay down beside you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and you felt his warmth even before he leaned in close, propping his head up with one hand as he looked down at you with a playful expression. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his tone light, curiosity mingling with amusement.

You moved your arm just enough to peek at him, a lopsided grin still on your face. “I just—wow,” you said, still catching your breath. “I was not expecting that.”

Spencer’s brows lifted in mock surprise, and he placed a hand over his chest in a dramatic gesture. “You doubted me?” he teased, his grin widening.

You laughed again, finally dropping your arm and turning to face him fully. “No, not exactly,” you admitted, biting your lip. “But that was… definitely not what I expected. In the best possible way.”

His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something gentler. “Good,” he said simply, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Am I going to get a better review this time?”

You burst out laughing, playfully swatting at his chest. “Mhm,” you teased, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I’ll make sure to tell Em how good her coworker is with his mouth.”

Spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before chuckling. “Oh god, please don’t do that,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands before he peeked out at you with a sheepish grin. “Just tell her your boyfriend is better than you previously thought.”

His words hung in the air, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat. “Boyfriend?” you repeated, your brows raising as you looked at him, searching his face for any sign that he was joking.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed instantly, but he didn’t backpedal. Instead, he held your gaze, his lips twitching into a small, nervous smile. “I mean… if you want me to be,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its usual confidence. “I just thought… maybe this isn’t just a one-time, or two-timw thing. At least, I hope it’s not.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the vulnerability in his voice, and a warmth spread through your chest as you processed his words. You couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to rest a hand on his cheek. “You’re serious?”

Spencer nodded, his hazel eyes filled with sincerity. “Yeah, I am,” he said quietly. “But only if you’re okay with that.”

A smile spread across your face, your fingers brushing against his skin as you leaned in closer. “I think a girl could get used to that,” you whispered.

The relief that washed over Spencer’s face was almost palpable, and he couldn’t hide the wide grin that followed. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with a newfound certainty that made your heart flutter.

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

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 @asobeeee

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rapz-rites · 2 years ago

Text

Family Time

Damian Wayne x Reader Headcanon

Meeting Damian’s family and getting close with them

A/N: This is my first time writing ANYTHING so plz be nice. I won't do any major writings, just small head canons and maybe rabbles. Saving the big stuff for all you professional writers.

Word Count: 1,704

Warnings: Jealous Damian, injured reader, threats, implied smut

Meeting the Waynes

You and Damian have been dating for about 5 months now.

Damian has already met your parents and they LOVED HIM.

He was polite, respectable and always said the right things at the right moment. DAMN HIM!

Now it was time to meet his family.

You’re pacing back and forth questioning your entire existence while Damian is sitting on the edge of your bed trying to calm you down.

“Do my clothes look good enough? Does my hair look good? What if they think I’m with you for your money? What if they think that I’m a gold digger? Do they know that my family is also very wealthy? What if they think I’m a stuck up spoiled brat? OMG WHAT IF THEY HATE ME?”

You’re digging yourself a deep hole of negativity until Damian grabs you by your shoulders forcing you to look at him.

“Beloved. You’re going to be fine. Everything about you is perfect and my family will love you”

He always knew what to say and when. DAMN HIM!

“Thank you. Ok. I think I’m ready, let's go!”

As damian pulls up to the manor, you start to rethink your decision

“Is it too late to cancel lunch? Would they believe I suddenly got ill?”

“Beloved, as I said before they’re going to love you”

As always he was right.

You and his family immediately hit it off and got along well.

A little too well for his liking.

He knew his family would like you but what he didn’t know was that you would spend more time with them instead of him. DAMN HIM!

Bruce

Bruce loved you for his youngest son

Damian as had a girlfriend before, Raven, but after they broke up, he thought Damian would never open himself up to anyone again

Even though you and Damian are a kind of opposites and balance each other out, you understand him and what he’s gone through

He was the one of the first people, after your parents and Alfred, to learn about your relationship

Though business isn’t your first option as a major, you still want to learn as a backup

Who better to learn from than the man who runs on of the top companies in the country

Bruce offers to teach you the basics and even a small internship at WE

You refuse the internship but gladly take the lessons

Dick

Dick is an acrobat

You did gymnastics for 4 year

What could go wrong?

A LOT

Dick tries to teach you a double full out

You already perfected a full out

You’ve always had trouble perfecting your landings

It didn’t come a surprise to you when you were able to perfectly do the flip but mess up the landing to bad you twist your ankle

Damian is furious with Grayson for teaching you suck a difficult move knowing there was a chance of you getting hurt

Damian is about to lunge at Dock ready to attack until you stop him

“Damian, stop. I’ve twisted my ankle plenty of times trying new gymnastic moves. I’ll be fine in like 2 weeks. You don’t need to hurt Dick, I knew the risks”

“Ok. But if Grayson teaches you another move and you get hurt, he will need to sleep with both eyes open”

Normally, Dick would be somewhat frightened by one of Damian’s threats but he’s in shock from how quickly you calmed him down

He’s going to call you from now on everytime Damian is angry

Jason

You and Jason connect over your interests in books

You two form your own book club

You two discuss the book you picked out for the month and talk about many other books you two have read in the past

Both of you love to read a book and watch the movie/show that goes along with it

You two argue over which aspects were better in the book or the movie/show

“Elena and Katherine are blonde in the books though”

“I know that Jason. I read the book too. But let’s be honest Katherine is better as a brunette than a blonde. It fits her personality in the show way more.”

“You’re right.”

“I think it’s Nina Dobrev.”

“It definitely is.”

“I would have liked to see angel Elena though.”

“ME TOO!”

Tim

Tim had a nack for tech

You were attached to your phone

Of course you two got along

Tim taught you tricks on the computer and showed you secret games companies hide

You had learned from Damian that Tim was a bit of a caffeine addict

Damian’s words were “Drake will be the caffeine addicted idiot in front of a screen or head deep in a case”

You take it upon yourself to find caffeine substitutes to try and help his addiction

He is reluctant at first but gives it a try

After a few months Tim is drinking less coffee than before

He still drinks coffee but limits himself to only 3 cups a day, much better than 2 an hour

He drinks more water and gets in more sleep than before

Damian who never openly admit it but he’s happy his older brother is being healthier and taking better care of himself

Duke

You and Duke bonded over your similar senses of humor

It also helps that he’s also on TikTok as much as you

The two of you jokingly talk in TikTok lingo

“Bombastic side eye”

“Criminal offense side eye”

“Duke this is probably the most important question I’m about to ask… Team Hailey or Team Selena”

“I’m offended that you even have to ask. Team Selena til the day I die. Alex Russo practically raised me”

Everyone else is looking at the two of you confused

Damian is used to this already

When you asked him the same question you went on a 3 hour tangent and it was evident who’s side you were on

Damian didn’t care about “silly celebrity drama” but since he knew it would make you happy, he chose Selena

Cass

Cass is a pretty quiet girl, almost mute

With family she barely ever talks, with strangers she uses sign language

Once you learned Cass communicated mostly with sign language you took it upon yourself to learn

When you we were first introduced to Cass you signed

“Hi! My name is Y/N, you must be Cass. My sign is rusty, I’m still learning. Nice to meet you”

Cass gave you a small smile and you were ecstatic

According to Damian Cass almost never smiles and even if she does its for a split second

You both enjoy each others quiet company, watching movies or painting nails and braiding hair with Stephanie

The more time you and spend with Cass the more she opens up to you

After a few months, she starts giving you short answers without signing

“If you could only wear one color nail polish for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?”

“Black…”

“Good answer”

Steph

You and Steph connect as feminists

“Anything a boy can do we can do better”

Steph often includes you in any competitions he has that are girls vs boys

Does she include you because you can be used against Damian?

Yes

Are you upset about it?

Absolutely not

Why?

You love beating Damian in any possible way

Other than competitions, you both love pranking the boys

You two prank damian the least because you know well enough that damian can hold grudge and you love to cuddle at night

Pranking Tim is best

Before he got better he would fall for anything because he was too sleep deprived

He would fall for the simplest broken screen video on youtube almost every time

Once he started getting better, you two had to up your game

Your favorite prank on Tim was the fake virus that played the SHrek opening over and over on blast

Alfred

You couldn’t forget about Alfred now can you

Whenever you enter the manor Alfred is always the first one to greet you

Whenever you are waiting for Damian at the manor you go straight to Alfred and talk with him

You often assist him with whatever he’s doing

Baking, cooking, cleaning

He finds it refreshing a young person would help him

The others would try and help but often with miss up and make some kind of mess

One year they tried to make Alfred’s favorite cake for his birthday… and failed… miserably

They didn't include Damian because eventually he would take over and the cake would basically be made by him and not all of them, although he would’ve made it perfectly. DAMN HIM!

After 3 failed attempts they opted to buy a cake they knew Alfred would like from his favorite bakery downtown

Though they ruined the kitchen, Alfred was touched at the effort they put to try and make his favorite cake

Even though, none of them, except Damian, are allowed to cook or bake in the kitchen without his supervision

Back to Damian

It soon becomes evident as you spend more time with his family that Damian is jealous

Damian loves that you get along with his family, but he misses the quality time between just the two of you

You felt bad because you thought you were neglecting your boyfriend

So you made the executive decision to make it up to him

“My parents are out of town for the next two weeks”

“Business trip?”

“Yup. Do you want to spend the week?”

“No siblings?”

“Nope just you”

You lean in placing a soft kiss on his lips and pull back

You giggle when you see him lean in for more and he gives you an unamused look on his face because you refused to kiss him back

“So do you want to spend the week? We’ll have the place all to ourselves”

“Let's go. I already have my bag packed”

That entire week is just you and Damian hanging out and enjoying each others company

You give him all the kisses and cuddles he wants

He even knows just want to say to get more 😉

DAMN HIM!

OMG OMG OMG!!! I did it. Took me a hot minute but I got it done. I wish it was this easy with my assignments and homework. But I hope you enjoyed this.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #Damian Wayne headcanon #first time writer #i hope you like this #batfam x reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #cassandra cain x reader #stephanie brown x reader #Duke Thomas x reader #bruce wayne x you #damian wayne x you #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul #damian wayne x female reader

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therealmylesmorales · 3 months ago

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N S F W Alphabet|| Lara Croft

I feel like this doesn’t really need a warning, you see the title, you should know what’s up. Minors/ageless blogs if you interact, you will get blocked immediately ❤️ (fem!reader)

Moots look away, ill cry

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

No matter who was on top that night, Lara always gives aftercare. She doesn’t immediately get up to run the bath, she likes to sit there for a few minutes; allow the both of you to catch your breath, sing praises in your ears. So, probably after thirty minutes of that, she would bring you both to the bath.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

For herself, Lara’s favorite part of her body is probably her hands and arms. Going off from what I’ve seen on the show and the games, our girl has muscles and she’s definitely not afraid to show them in bed. She loves to hold you down, and having you feel the strength of her thrusts.

On you, Lara loves your tits and thighs. Big, small— it doesn’t matter, your nipple is ending up in her mouth at the end of the day. And she loves feeling the softness of your thighs when you squeeze her head as she laps at your pussy; it’s a wordless tell that you’re about to cum.

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Lara’s addicted to the way you taste. The way you glisten against her fingers, she will put her fingers between your lips just to immediately kiss you afterwards.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Before you two got together (in the talking/flirting stage), Lara often touched herself to the thought of you. She had borrowed (she stole that shit) one of your favorite t-shirts that was covered in your scent and that was the hardest she had ever come.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I don’t see Lara dating too many people before you, or even one night stands. But she still knows what she’s doing, just give her a chance to learn your body.

F= Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Lara has two; one for you and one for herself.

Any position where she’s able to see your face is often her go to. She loves to see your eyes roll back as she takes you with the strap, running her hands all over your pretty body.

For herself, Lara loves to be taken from the back. Her arch is oh so pretty, and she comes the hardest this way. Don’t be surprised if you were to make her squirt eventually.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.)

While a couple of giggles will escape her after a couple fumbling fingers, there will be no joking. Ain’t shit funny on how she’s holding you hostage (lovingly) against the bed.

H= How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

First off, Lara wouldn’t care how you look. Clean shaven, bush, whatever. An eater is going to eat. As for herself, she’s well trimmed. She prefers herself that way.

I= Intimacy (how well are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Lara is nothing if not romantic. If her hands aren’t busy elsewhere, at least one of them are hold onto one of yours. She just likes to feel close to you.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you, Lara never masterbated much. She was too busy or just not really in the mood. But after being with you, you awoke something in her.

Now, she’ll stare at the pictures you sent, or even the rare videos of you both, fingers working furiously over her clit as she whispers your name in the quiet bedroom.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise. Praise. Praise— this girl will not shut up about you. Constantly whispering in your ear as her fingers or hips thrust against you.

“You’re taking me so well, darling.”

“Fuck, such a good girl, my love.”

Overstim is also a common action in the bedroom. So unless the safe word comes out or you’re close to passing out, be prepared for a long night.

Breeding kink.

L= Location (favorite place to do the do)

Her bedroom, or even the manor in general, is the only acceptable place for her. She doesn’t want her name to be on the front page again, she does have a slight reputation to uphold. But inside the manor, there’s no holding back.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If Lara stares at you for too long, she would want to take you to the bedroom. Of course, you could tell the difference between her loving stares and the looks where she wants to drag you into the bedroom.

She stares a bit too long at your lips. And if you have even a bit of a cleavage, you would need to repeat what you said at least another time because baby girl was not listening.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Lara is NOT degrading you, it’s not in her character not to mention she can’t even bring herself to say anything like that to you. You are free to call her names though.

Anything with blood, knives or straight up hurting each other is a hard no too, it’s not up for debate.

O= Oral (preference in giving, receiving, skill, etc.)

Even if she gets lockjaw, Lara isn’t stopping until you push her head away. She gets addicted to your taste, by how your clit throbs against her tongue. Lara will keep her eyes on you face, remember how beautiful you look with her buried between your legs.

And Lara can only handle you eating her out for so long until she gets too sensitive. It doesn’t help that her first orgams happens too fast, she needs a breather from you after the first one.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Lara is a mix of everything really, that would depend on how you want it. She could start off nice and slow then get caught up in the moment and start fucking you in the mattress, getting lost in your moans.

For herself, Lara likes to get fucked a little rougher. Be mean to her, she would like it.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not. A. Fan. She likes to take her time and fully embrace you. Now she won’t turn down the offer to sneak away for others during a social gathering but you cum at least twice, back to back to make up for the fact that you’re not at home.

R= Risk (are they going to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.)

She’s willing to try most things at least once, especially if you request it so often. But despite how she acts, especially out in the wild, Lara isn’t much of a risk taker when it comes to you.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go? How long can they last?)

Between the two of you, you are the one that taps out first. Lara could go all night if she really wanted to. However seeing how she’s the one delivering most of the pleasure, you can only take so much.

T= Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You both use a strap, however Lara uses it more on you. It’s one of her favorites, it can stretch you out the way her long fingers can’t.

You use the vibrator whenever Lara’s away, sending her videos to tease her. Trust when I say she will blow up your phone just to hear you and talk you through it.

U= Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Lara could only stand teasing you and being teased for so long until she cracks. She will let one comment slide before she will toss you onto the bed. She is much stronger than you and will use that to her advantage.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

You would think Lara is the one getting fucked by how much she whimpers and cries. No, she just doesn’t know how to keep herself quiet; crying into your neck as she whimpers out incoherent praises as she straps you down.

Now if it’s one of the rare times when YOU wear the strap, Lara is damn near the opposite. You’re hitting every spot in her and she finds it hard to breathe, only harsh gasps. But when she cums, her moans rings throughout the room.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Seeing you care for her, really turns Lara on; whether that be small chores around the manor, stitching her up and making sure she’s fine after coming home—anything like that. Lara would feel as if she needs to pay you back in some way. Maybe her on her knees for you.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

If you think Lara doesn’t have muscles, I need you to be fucking for real. Now, no Abby Anderson type shit but her physique is still very visible even when not flexing. Therefore if you broach the topic of riding her abs, you’re not getting a no.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

When Lara comes back from her explorations, for a solid 2 days, you guys are not leaving the bed. It doesn’t matter how long she was gone for, she missed you and needs that physical reconnection.

Any other time, even just a simple kiss will often lead to a heavy make out/grinding session. She’ll softly plead to go to the bedroom and when Lara looks at you with those pretty brown eyes, you agree without a second thought.

Z= Zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards)

Once you both are all nice and clean, cuddled up on the warm bed, it doesn’t take long for Lara to fall asleep. After sex, I can see her usually being the little spoon. And if your fingers glide through her loose waves, Lara’s out within 5 minutes.

#lara croft x reader #tomb raider x reader #smut tag #Myles writing #Lara Croft smut #Lara Croft #tomb raider

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thatlotuscookie · 3 months ago

Note

hellooo👋👋 could you just write something for dabi and reader, just something that involves him giving reader backhugs. you can add anything you want to it. i just need a hug🤕

✧･ﾟ: a/n : hiii thank you for requesting! sorry for the wait. i have been a bit busy the past few days but im hoping that ill be able to get yalls requests done faster since its the weekend! enjoy<3 and i hope you feel better after reading this, anon. hang in there, you're doing great! you can always vent in my askbox if needed<3

✧ Title: ✧ Silent Embrace ✧ ✧ Character: Dabi x Reader (Gender Neutral) ✧ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: Dabi isn’t one for words, but when he finds himself wrapped around you in the quiet, there’s no need for them. He lets his guard down, revealing the warmth he usually hides. ✧ Content/Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Cuddling, Established Relationship ✧ WC: 1002 words // 5.6k characters

The room is dim and quiet, the sort of silence that feels heavy with unspoken things. You’re lost in your own thoughts, hardly aware of anything around you, when you feel a presence just behind. You don’t hear his footsteps—they’re soft, almost silent—but the door creaks ever so slightly, announcing his arrival.

Dabi’s there, standing close but still holding himself back, like he’s not sure if he should cross that last step. You catch his reflection in the faintly tinted window in front of you, and it makes your heart skip. His expression is unreadable, somewhere between distant and thoughtful, like he’s warring with something inside. Before you can fully turn to him, you feel his hands brush over your shoulders, drifting down with the barest pressure, and then his fingers spread across your waist, pulling you toward him in one smooth, decisive motion.

He’s careful but firm, like he’s finally decided there’s no reason to hesitate. The contact is warm, surprising you with its gentleness, his hands slipping around your waist and linking just above your stomach. His breath brushes against your ear, warm and steady, and he lets out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. There’s an ease to it, but you can tell he’s still tense beneath the surface, his fingers curling just a bit, testing his own grip, making sure it’s real.

“Needed a break,” he mutters, a little hoarsely, as if that explains why he’s standing here, arms wrapped around you in an embrace that feels both foreign and oddly natural for him.

His hands shift slightly, thumbs brushing in slow, aimless circles against your waist. You’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing it, but there’s something mesmerizing in the quiet rhythm. The way his fingers occasionally graze your sides, the warmth seeping through your clothes, feels like a secret he’s letting you in on—some part of him he doesn’t show anyone else. It’s like he’s telling you something in silence, his words unspoken, his expression hidden against your shoulder.

You start to lean back into him, letting your head rest against his collarbone, surrendering to the quiet comfort of his hold. Dabi lets out a breath, one that seems to release some of the tension in his body as he relaxes further into the embrace. You feel his chin nudge down a bit as his head drifts, his forehead now resting gently against your shoulder. He’s steady, unhurried, his fingers tracing slow, reassuring patterns that make you feel like he’s grounding himself as much as you.

For a while, it’s just the two of you in this space, his arms wrapped around you in a protective circle. You can feel his heartbeat, a slow and calming pulse against your back, and it’s oddly soothing. He tightens his hold every now and then, almost like he’s afraid to let go, a silent admission that he finds as much comfort in this as you do.

Minutes pass, and the silence deepens. He shifts his head, his forehead brushing your shoulder before nestling his face into the curve of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and you feel the warmth of his breath, slow and even, ghosting over your collar. His grip loosens just a little, his arms settling into an easier hold as if he’s melting into you, and for a moment, you’re not even sure if he’s awake.

It’s in that quiet moment that you feel his breathing become deeper, each exhale warmer and more languid as he rests against you, his weight leaning just enough to let you know he’s drifting off, surrendering to the softness he doesn’t usually allow himself. His hold tightens one last time, and you hear him mumble something unintelligible, a soft sound against your neck as he nuzzles closer, unwittingly snuggling in.

You’re holding him up, bearing his weight in a way that feels intimate and right, and as he sighs, you can tell he’s truly comfortable, more at ease than you’ve ever seen him. His breaths deepen as he falls into a light sleep, his body heavy but reassuringly close, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his warmth.

It’s only when he stirs, his eyes fluttering open slightly, that he realizes how close he’s gotten, his head still resting against you, his arms locked around your waist. For a moment, his eyes meet yours in the window’s reflection, and you catch that rare, unguarded look—almost like he’s not fully awake yet. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets out a soft chuckle, still a little dazed, and buries his face back into your shoulder, clearly unbothered by how vulnerable he looks.

“Guess I got too comfortable,” he murmurs, voice husky and amused, though he makes no move to let go. There’s a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, a look so genuine it catches you off guard.

Then, after a moment, he lifts his head just enough to press a light, almost tentative kiss to your shoulder. It’s soft, a wordless confession that lingers in the air between you, and before you can say anything, he steps back slightly, though his arms stay firmly around you.

“C’mon,” he says quietly, his voice still thick from sleep as he takes your hand in his, leading you with that same soft but steady grip toward his room. You don’t resist, letting him guide you, feeling the warmth of his hand enveloping yours. When you both settle on the bed, he pulls you close once more, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking you into his chest.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as his hand rests on your back, tracing lazy circles that lull you both into a quiet, peaceful state. His heartbeat, slow and steady, thumps in your ear, and the last thing you hear before drifting off is the soft murmur of his voice, promising to hold you close for as long as you’ll let him.

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suguruslut · 4 months ago

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Giving Birth/Them as a Father

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

<<< 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪🐉| 𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙖🐅| 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙖🐕 >>>

Gwen's Note: babies are only fun in fiction, lol

🐉𝒯𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓊🍳

–he is so prepared! Even more prepared than you, honestly. He’s read every article and book there is with updated info about which positions to give birth in, how to naturally alleviate pain, the sterile process everyone must take to ensure no infections or illnesses are spread. He will be watching everyone like a hawk

–you go a week past your due date, which worries Tatsu, so he does some light exercises with you hoping to induce labor. Wouldn’t you know it, half an hour later your water breaks. Cue Tatsu grabbing the bag he packed six months ago and whipping out a wheelchair you didn’t know you guys had

–Tatsu is great during labor, though he’s secretly very nervous something will go horribly wrong. What will he do if he loses you? What if he loses you BOTH? He was a yakuza, though, so he manages to keep his cool on the outside, saying encouraging things to you the entire time, and lets you squeeze his hand as hard as you can

– “You can do this, {Y/N}! Focus! Push that little sucker out!”

– With your husband’s encouragement, your labor (mercifully) goes quickly, and within four pushes they’re out! Tatsu comforts you with kind words, shaking with anxiety and adrenaline as he sees your baby for the first time

– Tatsu stands over each medical personnel to make damn sure they’re being sanitary as they pass the baby around, finally handing them back to you. Tatsu allows himself to smile, seeing your happy tears and the cries of your child–he would have never in a million years expected this sweet scene to involve someone like him

– “Aww, Tatsu, you’re crying!”

– “No I ain’t! It’s just the lighting!”

–can you say GIRL DAD?!!! Tatsu sobbed when they said your baby was a girl. He’s so excited to do dress up and have tea parties and tutus and worry about her every second of every day…very excited. (Secretly, this is because he thinks a girl would be more like you than him. He’d rather have a mini you than a mini him)

–You wanted a pretty name, but not something overused; Tatsu said no daughter of yours was going to have a typical “scrub name,” so you go with the cute but not common Shiori. Tatsu nicknamed her his little dragon immediately

–When you go home with your little girl, Tatsu is fretting about EVERYTHING. The man has prepared for things you never would have thought of, but he knows that babies always surprise their parents, and that makes him nervous. He never takes his eyes off Shiori, overreading into every little thing she does as a possible sickness or issue

–Tatsu will absolutely wait on you hand and foot. He does that anyway, but now it’s x50. He will prepare bottles, get diapers ready, clean puke stains, and in between that, will give you massages, make your favorite foods, bring you snacks, tea. He will literally wash your hair for you if you ask.

–you need a break from breastfeeding and sitting in bed all day? Tatsu is already ready with a spa day coupon for you. He can’t imagine how hard it is on your body as well as your mind, being a new mother, and whatever you need to do to feel your best, Tatsu is your number one supporter

– “If my beautiful wife needs a break from nurturing our daughter, you bet yer ass she’s gonna get it! Here’s a 30% coupon. I got it from a tomato growing contest.”

–Endless picture taking! When he isn’t worrying or rushing around trying to make things easier for you and your little dragon, he is filling his camera roll with adorable pictures of Shiori. And his beautiful wife, ofc. The last 500 pics on his phone are of you, Shiori, and quite a bit of selfies with him and his little girl. And it’s only been one week

–Tatsu’s heart is overflowing with love upon becoming a dad, filling your head with deep appreciation and revere for allowing him to pass this milestone with you. He quickly becomes the most popular dad on the block, admired and respected by everyone for his loud, but gentle parenting

🐅𝒯𝑜𝓇𝒶𝒿𝒾𝓇𝑜🍰

–Tora is constantly checking his phone, always on edge that you might suddenly go into labor. One day when he’s at the crepe truck at three in the afternoon, he’s in the middle of whipping up a crepe when you text him SOS,BB OTW! He has never dropped a crepe so fast

–He meets you at the hospital, breathless and yelling for someone to tell him where his wife is. Tora sprints into your room all dramatic like, rushing to your side with immediate worries and demands to know what’s going on

–Tora hates seeing you in pain, which makes it hard for him to watch you in labor. He knows you’re doing it to bring life into the world, life he helped create, but it hurts him to see you yelling and crying in agony. He’ll do his best to encourage you, trying to hype you up for that last push

–He is more focused on you when the baby actually comes out, constantly asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, etc. Then when they push the baby at you guys he’s like “??? Oh, yeah!”

–Much like Tatsu, I think Tora is such a girl dad!!! She would be his angel from the first moment you place her in his big hands. He is her protector, her tiger. Speaking of tigers…

– “How bout we name her Tigress? You know, from Kung Fu Panda? What a boss!”

– “Tora…no.”

– Neither of you want a traditional Japanese name; you settle on Sakima, which means ‘warrior queen.’ Enough flare for Tora, enough uniqueness for you. Her nickname quickly becomes Kima the Killer, courtesy of her father

–Tora does not like random people handling his daughter, even if they are “medical personnel.” He glares at everyone, always asks questions on what they’re doing and why they’re doing it. You have to cool him off sometimes, reassuring your husband that they’re just making sure Sakima is healthy

–Back at home, Tora loosens up a bit. He smiles big smiles, slows himself down and really admires his little girl, staring at and watching her for hours on end. It’s a softer side to Tora no one else usually sees. Feels so relaxed around his little killer who loves tickles and kisses

–Absolutely sends a million pics of him and his daughter to Tatsu, bragging like you wouldn’t believe. Not that you can blame him, Kima is very cute, and already has her father’s intense gold eyes that demand respect

–Tora will take on any challenge brought to him, which includes dirty diapers, spit, puke, snot, spilled milk, anything, and he won’t complain at all, not even silently. Nothing compares to blood and guts anyway

– “It’s an honor to serve my family and get my hands dirty!”

–He is always the one to get up in the middle of the night if Kima cries. In his eyes, you’re already doing so much, have already DONE so much, giving birth and all, Tora won’t let you lift a finger. His wonderful wife is gonna get her beauty rest and not have to worry about a thing

-Tora loves being a bad ass dad and strolling around the neighborhood with his adorable little baby girl and his hot wife, whom he vows to protect with his life. Insert DILF era!

🐕ℳ𝒶𝓈𝒶🥡

–you go into labor in the middle of the night, and it takes you a good five minutes to wake Masa up. Dude can sleep forever, so you pinch his side hard to get him alert. When you do, he still needs to be told several times that you’re going into labor before his brain catches up

– “You’re…huh? Labor? You mean, like…the thing that…you know…really?!”

– Calls Tatsu on the way to the hospital in a panic, having forgotten everything he should do to ease your anxiety. Tatsu talks him through it, but it’s pretty clear that Masa is panicking just as much as you are. Luckily the nurses at the hospital know what they’re doing

–Masa tries to be brave and goes into the delivery room with you. He really doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but the boss said he’s gotta do it, so here he is. Poor boy tries hard to be supportive, but his ramblings only make you more anxious because you can tell HE’S nervous

–as soon as he sees the baby’s head popping out…yeah, he passes out cold, lol. Gory yakuza movies are great, but this kind of explicit imagery is too much for his manly brain to handle. Sorry, but you’re on your own now, kid, lmao

–Tatsu wakes Masa up and waits for everything to be cleaned up before bringing him back in. Masa is scared shitless, eyes wide, hands shaking as he approaches you and your newborn; but the second he sees your tearful smile at him, all his panic drifts away

– “Woah! We really made this thing? Dope! …Huh…it’s kinda ugly, isn’t it? Why does it look like that?”

– It takes some convincing, because Masa is afraid he’ll drop your baby, but you do get him to hold it, and a genuinely excited smile finally comes through. He’s in disbelief about being a dad until he holds the baby in his own arms, amazed at the lively little thing squirming about

–I can see Masa as being a boy dad. He’d be so stoked to have a mini man, would probably try to name it something like Kazuma, Yami, Link, anything from a video game he loves. You would compromise and go with Shinji, a nice name that can also be connected to several games and anime

–Masa feels clueless when you take your son home, anxious about everything you have to do right away…he spends most of his time just staring at the little guy, though, overwhelmed with awe that you two created this. It blows his mind, and he has no idea where to begin

– “So like, what do babies eat? I’ve got like, ten yen…maybe we can get them something small from the convenience store?”

– “Babies drink breast milk for the first year of their lives, Masa.”

– *Masa malfunction*

–For probably the first time in his life, Masa becomes focused, worried that he’s doing everything wrong when really, he’s doing a great job trying to keep up with your newborn. He’s doing his best, and that’s all you could ever ask for; the bags under his eyes prove it

–brags endlessly about his baby boy! He’s YouTube and Instagram famous already. Masa wants to set Shinji up for success and fame

–Although he might whine on the inside, he’ll clean diapers, wipe boogers, clean up puke, get up during the middle of the night, whatever! Masa wants to be as good a father as Tatsu says he can be. Whatever you ask him to do, he’ll do it, even if he feels like he isn’t doing things good enough

– Babies fascinate Masa, lol, and his son is especially interesting to him. He gets so excited whenever Shinji makes a new noise, or a new movement, or just does humanly things in general. He becomes convinced that Shinji’s quick fingers mean he’ll be a great video game player one day

– Speaking of video games, Masa sets his baby son down on the couch with him as he plays, explaining the lore in details a newborn could never understand. He claims Shinji is his good luck charm, and frequently casts a look down at his son to ensure he’s okay. You think it’s cute when you find Masa and Shinji asleep on the couch after completing a hard level together, your two silly boys the best of friends already

–Like Tora, Masa loves showing his baby off, feeling like a real adult when he whips out pictures of Shinji at his first photoshoot; really, it isn’t pride he’s feeling, but just pure, unfiltered happiness he wants to spread to everyone he meets. Masa might worry a lot about his parenting skills, but with you there to help, he thinks he might turn out to be a great dad

🐉 🐅 🐕

Househusband Headcanon Masterlist

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quills-of-freedom · 2 years ago

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Headcanons ~

Wedding day 💕🎻

| Eren - Reiner - Levi - Jean - Erwin - Armin - Connie |

The day had finally arrived. The union of two souls to be forever entwined within the gracious loving bond of matrimony.

Eren 💕

You couldn’t actually believe Eren had proposed. Although he was down on one knee in front of your very eyes, your mind just wasn’t accepting it. Folks andd onlookers watched with bated breath, awaiting your answer. He sure kept this surprise hidden well…

Of course, you said yes and he picked you up by your waist in a spin, colliding his lips to yours.

And now here he was, watching you walk down the aisle, a lump in his throat and his heart racing.

You looked gorgeous, like something from a fairy tale.

And of course, he looked as handsome as ever. His suit was smart and his hair was up in its usual bun.

Armin is his best man, of course; who is standing and beaming with pride.

Eren holds back his chokes and tears as he reads his vows;

“Y/N… From the first time I ever laid eyes on you, all those years ago, I knew you would be in my life forever. Back then, I didn’t think it would be as my wife, but God I am so glad it is. I’m sorry for my stubbornness and irrational behaviour when we were young. But despite that you still loved, and stood by me and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I vow to always stand beside you, whatever the world throws at us. I vow to hold you when you need support. I vow to remember how you always had my back no matter what. And I vow to always love you, with my heart and soul, until the day I die and after.”

The room erupts in cheers and tears when you seal your kiss.

The reception is wild.

Everyone is drunk (except Levi) and dancing. Reiner and Connie are dancing like weirdos, Reiners blazer removed and at one point Connie is on his shoulders.

Sasha has too much to drink and is spewing in the bathroom.

Mikasa can’t stop crying with happiness and pride.

He carries you to your room afterwards where you spend all night sealing a special bond that will never be broken.

Reiner 💕

Reiner wanted to marry you from the get go. He’s a passionate man and when he loves, he loves.

So when he pops the question, boy does he go extra.

Reiner took you to a secluded spot for a picnic on a cliffside. After you’d had eaten and chilled for a while he tells you to stand back. This crazy mf then pulls out a dagger and leaps off the cliff, transforming into his Titan form.

You feel a little scared. Not because you think he’d hurt you but A) wtf is he doing and B) It feels weird seeing a shifter transform when you don’t have your gear.

He steps up onto the cliff and gets on one knee in his Titan form. He gets out with his ring in hand and kneels in front of the empty casing of the armoured titan.

“All this power, yet you can still bring me to my knees. Y/N, I love you. Will you marry me?”

Cheesy, but that’s Reiner for you.

He kisses you desperately and tears form in his eyes when you accept.

Now he has tears streaming down his face, holding in sobs as he sees you walking towards him in your dress. The odd uncontrolled cry does escape his lips when you get closer. He palms the tears away and smiles with the biggest grin when you reach him.

He pulls it together a little for his vows but he does take sharp intakes of breath.

“I never believed in love at first sight, until I met you. No matter what doubts I had back in Cadets, they were always surpassed by my feelings for you. And when you told me you loved me too, it was incomprehensible that I would turn you away, given the circumstances. Y/N… You still loved me when I left. You loved me at my worst. You picked me up from the gutter, dusted me off and rose me up again. I vow to always love you with my entire being. I vow to protect you against any ill will towards you. Back then, I couldn’t dedicate my heart to the cause. But I vow to dedicate my heart to you.”

If Bertolt isn't alive in your universe, Jean is his best man and either way, they’re both pulling a tight face to stop themselves crying.

He carries you out of the venue after you kiss, confetti and cheers all around.

The reception is just like Eren's. Absolutely wild. Dancing. Drinking. Laughter and tears.

That night you seal your soul bound contract with hours and hours of mind-blowing love making.

Levi 💕

Levi had been thinking of proposing for a long time. In fact you thought the day would never come. He likes to be totally sure and take things slow. So when he got on one knee at a fancy restaurant you were blown away.

The only time he’s ever shown PDA was when you said yes and he kissed you with such passion, the other diners applauding in celebration.

He doesn’t cry when he sees you in your dress, Erwin stood by him as his best man. But his eyes do glisten and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N… I know I’m not the best at verbalising my feelings but please know if anything that I am completely devoting myself to you. I will always love you. I will always take care of you and protect you. I will always support your desires in life and walk this earth with you. This, I swear.”

Hange is sobbing so loud when you kiss.

The reception for you wedding with Levi is a little more classy. There’s fine foods and ballroom dancing. Speeches are refined and dignified and throughout the entire thing Levi can not keep his eyes off you.

You guys break the bed when you make love that night.

Jean 💕

Jean was a nervous wreck when he proposed to you. The entire time he was fumbling with the ring box in his pocket, his hands dampening with sweat.

You knew something was amiss but when you asked he shrugged it off. You were both on a walk when he suddenly took your hand and got down on one knee.

He choked back tears when you said yes.

He’s crying at the alter though regardless of how hard he tries not to. He’s so damn proud of you it’s overwhelming as you gorgeously glide down towards him, Connie his best man if Marco isn’t alive in your universe.

He’s a blubbering mess when it comes to the vows finding it hard to vocalise himself properly.

“Y/N, you make me the happiest man there ever was. I am so proud to have you by my side and to now call you my wife. You’re my everything and more. You love me when I’m not being the smartest man, or the most patient. And for that I give you my all. I vow to treat you the way you deserve. I vow to never take you for granted. I vow to always protect you and hold you when life is wearing you down. I love you, y/n and (unintelligible) forever…”

Jean tries to have a more dignified reception but with friends like these… Pretty impossible.

But he wouldn’t change it for the world as he sits back and watches the people he loves the most, together and happy.

He cries again at your first dance.

You seal your marriage with the steamiest and most passionate love making known to man.

Erwin 💕

Like Levi, Erwin has a taste for the finer things and takes you out for a meal at a really fancy restaurant. He won’t propose there though.

Like Reiner, this man likes to be extra.

After dinner you take a stroll and end up outside of the scout regiment HQ in Trost. While you’re walking through the courtyard of the barracks, you’re surprised to see well dressed people emerge from inside buildings playing the violins.

You turn to Erwin to see him down on one knee with the ring.

The entire barracks erupt in applause when you say yes and he picks you up into a kiss.

Erwin doesn’t cry at the alter but seeing you softens his gaze and a warm smile spreads across his face, Levi beside him as best man.

“Y/N, I am the luckiest man alive to have you as my own, and I will cherish every fleeting moment. You love and accept me for who I am and stand by decisions I’ve made, even when I doubt myself. I swear to forever treat you as the queen you are, by my side, in our kingdom. I swear my heart will always be loyal to you and you alone. You are the beam that holds this chin up high, and I will always be yours.”

Like Levi’s reception, yours with Erwin is extremely refined.

Top class champagne, the finest foods and beautiful classics music.

Your first dance with him has everyone in awe as he twirls you with such skill, a talent not many knew he had.

You will not be able to walk for days after you make love that night, having pulled out all the stops for you.

Armin 💕

Armin had been planning your proposal for months.

He went super extra and planned it all out meticulously down to the tiniest detail. It was a whole day event. Clues, gifts, leading up to a scavenger hunt where he was awaiting nervously with the ring.

He actually couldn’t believe his ears when you said yes.

Armin cries at the alter. It’s less of a sob like Reiner and Jean, more like silent tears streaming down his face.

Of course, Eren is his best man.

“I didn’t think I would ever be standing here today, uttering these words. I didn’t think that I, of all people, would be marrying someone as perfect as you, Y/N. You bring so much joy to my life, so much laughter and love I could never write down in words how much you mean to me. I, Armin Arlert, vow to always remain by your side through thick and thin. I vow to take care of you if you get sick and to encourage and support you in all of your life’s endeavours. For now and forever, this I swear.”

The reception is more chilled than the others. Laid back and easy going. No one gets too hammered but it’s still just an amazing night with your loved ones.

Your first dance is so sweet, his eyes are closed with a warm smile the entire time as he holds you close and sways to the music.

If you thought Armin was a dark horse before, you ain’t seen nothing til the wedding night.

Yes. He broke the bed.

Connie 💕

God bless his pure soul because Connie tried so hard to make it perfect. He managed to pull it off by some miracle, despite the snowballing nerves that consumed him.

He took you out to dinner and bought you your favourite flowers. The words “Will you marry me?” Were spread out on the table when you returned from the restroom, by petals.

He cried when you said yes.

And he is a sobbing mess at the alter. Jean is his best man, elbowing him and hissing to pull himself together.

But he just can’t believe how lucky he is to have you as a wife.

“Y/N, you can’t believe how happy you make me. Every stupid thing I’ve done, every dumb thing that comes out of my mouth and you’re still there, loving me. I can’t begin to explain how much that means to me. How much you mean to me. I promise I will always treat you like it’s our first date. I’ll forever hold your hand when you need me to. And I promise I’ll write down important dates so I never forget and swear I will not disappoint you, my love.”

The wildest wedding party known to man.

Everyone is off their face drunk. Wild dancing. Food fights. Galore.

There was even arm wrestling at one point.

He can not get over that he has you. This sweet man is quite possibly the happiest man on earth.

You guys didn’t just break the bed that night. The chair, the ottoman and somehow the f'ing wardrobe???

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. I am the friendliest person ever so don’t be shy to drop me a request or ask.

#aot wedding #marrying aot #snk wedding #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk headcanons #reiner braun #reiner brainrot #aot #attack on titan eren #reiner x reader #reiner x you #levi x you #levi smut #captain levi #levi ackerman #erwin smith #erwin x y/n #aot erwin

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aeligsido · 6 months ago

Text

[WM] Prompt 14 — Secret Identity.

Rating: G.

Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, one (1) random fifth year Gryffindor, James Potter; mentions of Peter Pettigrew.

Additional Tags: Hogwarts years, they're young teenagers, jealousy, jealous Sirius Black, except he doesn’t realize he’s being jealous, Sirius & James’ friendship.

Summary: Sirius and James got their hands on some Polyjuice.

Words count: 720.

A/N: I love the platonic soulmaty thing and unhinged codependency Sirius and James have. Anyway. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

@wolfstarmicrofic

—

There’s no one who knows Sirius better than James, and there’s no one who knows James better than Sirius — it is how it is, and anyone who has spent two minutes in their presence would learn it, too.

So, obviously, when they got their hands on Polyjuice, they immediately decided to swap places without telling anyone, just to see if anyone would notice.

Truthfully, Sirius thinks Peter is the best bet — their friend is awfully observant, and somehow always manages to come to the right conclusion. Remus would, maybe, but it’s more of a fifty-fifty situation.

He’s using the opportunity to be James right now to quickly check something in the library — he has been banned until the end of the month after an ill-placed bit of mischief, and he needs the information now and not later.

A soft, almost hidden laugh catches his attention; he knows it well, as one of Remus’ main reasons for laughter. This one is a bit surprised — Sirius can picture the scrunch of his nose as the sound comes out of his throat without his consent, and the way he always hides it behind his hand afterward. Curious, he closes the book he was reading and follows the whispered conversation.

He stops before he can be seen; Remus is with one of the boys in the year before them — probably trying to get inside knowledge about OWLS — whose name Sirius doesn't remember. They’re sitting side-by-side, the fifth year crowding Remus’ personal space.

Remus is definitely bothered by it. He doesn’t like other people in his personal space, except for a very small number of people which Sirius is part of and this guy certainly is not. Remus is simply smiling at him because he doesn’t like to bother people and never says anything when he’s uncomfortable. Obviously.

“So, we could grab a Butterbeer together and—”

Sirius loudly drops the book on the table with a huge grin on his (James?) face.

“Remus! Just the man I wanted to see!”

Remus straightens up, immediately turning his attention to him, his smile now shining much more brighter.

“James!”

Ah! Take that, what’s-your-face. Remus likes him better. Or James. And James? Whatever, it's James, of course Remus likes both of them better.

“So, Hogsmeade this weekend! We’ll go together as usual, yeah? I wanted your advice over something I want to buy, you know…” He makes a vague gesture with his hand, and Remus nods along.

Of course, Sirius is not lying — James did mention wanting Remus’ advice over a new purchase he’s thinking about, and they always go together at Hogsmeade as a group. It’s just helping James along, being perfectly in sync with his best friend, and all of that. Also, Remus deserves better than what's-his-face's pathetic attempt.

“Sure, of course, James.” Remus is still smiling, looking up at him almost patiently; beside him, what’s-his-face looks annoyed.

“I was—” he starts.

Sirius claps his hands loudly. “Perfect! I’ll see you later, then, I have some things to take care of — you know how it is.”

Remus laughs, then, way more comfortable and fond than previously. “Of course, go on.”

James, toward the middle of their first year, has taken the habit of hugging them all goodbye. Sirius grew used to his father’s absentminded pats on his shoulders or head, of Regulus’ squeeze of his hands, of his mother arranging his hair and his clothes and his whole self to her liking, but not to hugs; it had been a thing and a half to learn how to hug someone properly. Peter’s pretty good at hugging, too, and Remus is more at ease receiving the hug than giving it — he’s always so awkward when he’s trying to comfort someone — but James’ hugs always make you feel safe and cared for in a way Sirius can’t explain.

So he tries to replicate it, now, just as James would do; he’s glad to feel Remus melting a big against him, and takes it as a victory.

“Alright,” he says then, taking the book back. “I’ll see you later!”

Remus waves him goodbye. As Sirius leaves, he hears what’s-his-face asking about his Butterbeer, and Remus’ vague answer of maybe another time, and feels surprisingly victorious.

His steps are way lighter as he joins James to their rendezvous point.

#my fic #my writing #hp #wolfstar #challenge

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago

Note

Am I The Asshole for comforting my friend’s ex-partner?

People in this story: Me (19M), my friend, Jason (17M), his ex-partner, Leon (16M) [All fake names]

So, my friend Jason recently broke up with Leon, after a year of them being together (like, right after their anniversary). This was honestly a long time coming, as Jason has been venting to me about all these little things that Leon has done (he never visits Jason at work, he rarely buys gifts or pays for dates even though Jason always does, he’s too clingy, etc) so I wasn’t surprised, and I don’t think either Jason or Leon were very surprised either.

Jason is actually very happy he finally ended the relationship, and now that it’s over, he started to open up to me more about things Leon has done. He’s saving the in-depth conversation for when we can talk in person, but he told me there was manipulation and gaslighting going on, I just don’t know how or to what severity. Although, despite this, Jason says he doesn’t really have much ill will against Leon, and while he doesn’t want to remain friends (and now has him blocked on socials), is still fine interacting with him. (Of course, they’re in high school together so they’ll have to interact pretty frequently.)

Leon on the other hand… is pretty torn up. Which is understandable, even if it is his fault Jason broke up with him. He was publicly (but subtly) venting on social media, and Jason told me that during the breakup he was also very visibly upset and talked about thinking he (himself) deserved to die. (Which is… possibly a manipulation tactic, possibly a depressed teenager thing, but most likely a mix of both.)

Now, I’m friends with both of them (it’s hard not to be, since they’re almost always together). I’m closer with Jason and we talk almost every day, but Leon and I are somewhat close as well, so it wasn’t surprising to me when Leon messaged me to talk about the breakup.

Leon send multiple paragraphs venting about the breakup. He basically just told me he feels guilty, and hopeless, and he felt like his efforts in the relationship could only be seen by himself. He also told me he understands and won’t judge if I start to dislike him now that Jason broke up with him, and asked me to take care of Jason now that he won’t be able to.

Some of his message seemed a little manipulative-y? (Like the self-depreciation, he was also somewhat implying he wanted to kill himself…?) Which makes sense with everything Jason told me about him, but I still tried to respond the same way I would respond to any friend who just had a bad breakup, while also throwing a little “I hope you learn and grow from this” in there for good measure.

Because, see, I believe Jason when he says Leon was manipulative and a toxic partner. And I know Leon is probably fishing for sympathy, at least a bit. However… He’s also 16 years old. Which doesn’t make any of Leon’s actions okay, obviously. A 16 year-old should know right from wrong. But I know 16 year olds have a lot of growing up to do, and I don’t think Leon is an irredeemably bad person.

I can’t know for certain if Leon was purposefully acting malicious or if he was just too immature to understand what he did wrong. But either way, I’d feel like a dick telling a 16 year old who sees me as a good friend that I don’t want to hear him vent or I don’t care about his problem because it’s all his fault anyway. So, I just listened, told him I hope he grows from this, and told him to take care of himself and I hope things get better for him.

I’m definitely going to distance myself from him going forward, probably especially when Jason tells me the rest of the details of their relationship, but I figured the breakup is so fresh (happened the day before Leon came to me) I can at least let him vent for now. Break ups do fucking suck, even if it is your fault or you deserved it. So, I don’t know. Jason didn’t seem too bothered with what I said to Leon, but idk. AITA? I hope that all made sense :’)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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yeahthatwouldbedark · 2 months ago

Text

Yen per second

tropes: death trope, friends to lovers, rivals to lovers, bully romance bestie, college au, friends with benefits I guess, Oikawa and reader have known each other since childhood.

trigger warnings (for the entire series): child abuse, domestic abuse, sexual abuse, bullying, depression, child neglect, terminal illness at some point, broken home, mental breakdowns, panic attacks, anxiety, death, injuries (Oikawa’s bad knee for example), substance abuse.

Chapter 7

11k words

January 17th

It’s such a cold day that it’s a wonder there are humans around with their limbs still functioning. A week has passed since the people of Tokyo last saw a sunray spear through the grey clouds. You could argue that at least there is snow pelted on the earth, a child’s dream come true, but even that isn’t enough to rid people of the desire to rush inside cafes where the promise of warmth and a cup of coffee is sure to be kept.

That’s the good thing about days like this. Tables are occupied which means more money for the cafes. There’s also the part about not being able to hear yourself think or your partner talk seeing as there is not a table at which a conversation isn’t being had. The world is alive with whispers, laughter, sighs, shoes clacking, fingers tapping, and the aroma of coffee.

It's been 17 days since they struck the deal. A week ago, Tooru helped her move into her apartment in the same building where Rin lives. Every day, he waits for her at the University’s front gate and when they’re both finished with work and volleyball training, he accompanies her back to her apartment. It takes some time to get used to him getting her hot cocoa with extra sugar (and a caramel mocha latte for himself) or him helping calm her nerves when she’s thrust into a discussion during class by rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

It’s honestly nerve-wracking. Almost overwhelming. Once or twice, she’s had to flee from him and to the nearest restroom. When she returns, he’s always there, waiting for her with a smile. She always feels anxious, entranced, and flustered when she sees him smile. It’s frustrating.

Yet, here they sit at a café after he suggested she change her study setting once in a while.

“So,” Tooru begins, eyes roving over Y/n’s face, which is presently buried in her ‘Social Psychology’ textbook, “There’s this gathering with volleyball players that I’ve been invited to.”

Her gaze barely flits upward before it’s back on the page, “That’s nice. Which teams are attending?”

Encouraged by her polite interest in the topic, Tooru smiles and puts the book aside, ready to enumerate.

“EJP Raijin. MSBY Black Jackals. Tachibana Red Falcons.” He counts on his fingers, “A bunch of other teams. And us, of course, The Tokyo Black Jaguars.”

He takes a sip of his coffee before continuing, in hopes that it will steel his resolve against the debilitating fear of rejection.

“And I was hoping you’d come with me.” He pops the proposal.

This time, Y/n’s eyes are alight with something akin to surprise and confusion. Hesitation is apparent in the way her fingers toy with the corner of the page she was reading prior to looking up.

She looks away and supports her head on her left palm. “I don’t think I should.”

Tooru’s face falls. Before he can wallow in self-pity, he takes the time to study her expression, concealed behind a curtain of dark hair though it may be. She’s not as focused as she was before he brought up the topic of the gathering. Unable to concentrate, her eyes flit from the top of the page to the bottom and her face now sports a barely perceptible frown. She’s frustrated at herself for not managing to get it together.

“If this is about you being scared that I’ll do something,” Tooru assures, absentmindedly tracing the curve of the cup’s handle. “I promise I won’t.”

“It’s not about that,” Y/n says at once. Realizing the speed at which she delivered the response, she looks up, almost startled. Looking anywhere but at him, she elaborates a little further, “Rin is in EJP Raijin. And he’s mad at me.”

Tooru’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “Suna? Mad at you? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, I managed to piss him off.” She shrugs and brings her cup to her lips. “As is my habit.”

Tooru wants, more than anything at this moment, to help her understand that nothing about her warrants mistreatment. When he looks back on how things used to be, he can’t think of a single moment at which his personal issues didn’t distort his perception of her. For years, his image of her had been painfully unfair. For years, his fractured perception of himself had gotten in the way of them being there for each other.

He makes an effort to smile. “There’s another reason, isn’t there?”

Y/n can tell there’s some cream on her lips as she puts down her cup. It makes heat rise to her cheeks as she licks it off. Normally, she’d be glad of the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that she doesn’t want to be ‘gross’ in his eyes. Not when they’re trying to be friends for the first time.

“Are you sure you want to go with me?” She tries to ask without betraying a hint of nervousness.

“I’ve been rehearsing how to ask you since I received the invitation.” His lips spread in a grin. “So, yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“And you won’t be ashamed to have me by your side?”

“Honestly,” Tooru croons, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’d be upset if you weren’t there.”

For the first time since they met again, she feels like laughing. Truly laughing. It sounds downright absurd to hear him say that her absence would spoil his mood. All she allows herself is a small, close-lipped smile.

“Is there a dress code? Or theme?”

“Yes, it’s formal.” He affirms, nodding, “And I’d love to help you assemble your outfit.”

She doesn’t take him seriously. “Okay, Oikawa.”

Without him realizing it, Tooru’s lips morph into a pout.

“Ugh,” He groans, “When are you gonna get used to being on a first-name basis with me?”

“Sorry, force of habit.” She answers honestly. “So, when’s the gathering?”

At that, Tooru perks up like a toddler being told that the most recent Barbie doll is now available at the nearest store. Hope is alight within him.

“This Saturday at 6 PM.” He says, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30 since it’s almost a 40-minute drive to the destination.”

“You wanna be fashionably late so bad.” Y/n rolls her eyes.

Placing a hand on his chest, he acts offended, “And what’s wrong with that?”

“Are you not embarrassed?”

Tooru pretends to inspect his nails.

“I’ve done worse things.” He says nonchalantly.

“Yeah, you once forgot to delete the porn from your flash drive-

He snaps up his head and raises an eyebrow. “That presentation was iconic I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then you started panicking after accidentally clicking on it.”

“It was adorable.”

“You literally had mating press in there.”

Tooru’s brain stops working for a second. “I thought nobody caught on.”

“Well, they didn’t because they were slow readers.” She says, tugging down the sleeves of the sweater under her desert brown coat. “Their English was awful. And you did some damage control pretty quickly.”

He shuts his eyes and an air of unfathomable flamboyance possesses him as he rubs at his temple in feigned agony.

“God, I was so iconic for that.” He recalls fondly.

Again, Y/n has to make a significant effort to suppress the mirth that fights to escape her chest. Maybe she should let loose, feel the laughter vibrate within and all around her. She only laughs when she’s drunk, and the memory is something her mind spurns. Her joy likes to collect dust, that of home, classrooms, parties, gatherings, and so on. It hoards the dust, concealing itself in its particles. It would take a typhoon to blow away the dirt.

Across from her, Tooru’s watchful gaze roams every part of her it can reach. Her complexion has always been pallid, bordering on sickly, but sometimes it takes on the rosy hues of cherry blossoms. On certain occasions, when he wasn’t being utterly vicious toward her or when Mattsun would wrap his volleyball blazer around her shoulders, her cheeks would bloom.

Her hair, far from ashen, stood in stark contrast with the majority of her features. It was a dark shade of brown and straight while her lips were pink and heart-shaped. Her cheeks, unlike her body, still carried some of the plumpness of childhood, with some semblance of a jawline to provide some polarity. She reminded him of the liminal space between winter and spring.

Y/n catches him staring, the corner of his lips angled upwards and his head tilted.

“What?” She asks.

“Nothing,” He answers, “Was just wondering what color would look gorgeous on you.”

When he doesn’t elaborate immediately, she shoots him an expectant look, “Well, which one is it?”

“Hmmm, black for sure. Emerald and forest green. Sapphire or midnight blue.” He pauses, picturing her in the entire spectrum. “Red. Maroon, garnet, and wine red specifically.”

“Well… damn.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You disagree?”

“No, I just don’t have dresses in those colors.” She confesses, scratching the lip of the table. “My formal outfits are more on the preppy, academic style. I just never imagined I’d get to attend any formal gatherings so I didn’t bother with the dresses.”

Tooru wants to point out the ridiculousness of it all. Being the best student in their year means that she’s bound to receive offers and be invited to gatherings in the near future. But maybe that’s it. Maybe she believes that, just like in high school, her achievements will be downplayed in favor of someone else’s charisma, popularity, or wealth. That she will only be given crumbs of the recognition she deserves.

Not under Tooru’s watch.

He grins so stupidly that he can sense the wariness in her posture.

“You know what this means?” He asks, leaning forward once again.

“What?”

“Guess.”

“Why are you so excited all of a sudden?”

His leg won’t stop bouncing in anticipation. “C’mon guess!”

“Jesus, Tooru I don’t know.” Y/n sighs, exasperated.

“I,” He declares, threading the fingers of her left hand, which have been chipping away at the edge of the table for the past few minutes, with those of his right one. “Get to take you shopping. And no, you may not refuse this offer. Thus, it has been decreed by moi that we shall promenade about the mall on Friday.”

She’s so startled by the boldness of his proposal slash decision that she can only stare in shock. Tooru has offered to take her shopping or eat out before⸺ the day after Chiharu and she brought him up to their apartment, drunk off his ass, the festivals during which his mom would entreat him to keep her company, and only once before… when he got his pride so severely wounded by a girl that he just had to show her what she was missing.

In retrospect, these moments were somewhat nostalgic, and bittersweet, with heartache and lessons built into them like steel in the foundations of a building. She couldn’t just shake off every past experience, as uncomfortable as it made her to relive them in her flesh. She couldn’t be rid of the thought that, if she took him up on the offer, she would essentially be indebted to him. This changed everything.

“Any thoughts you’re having about paying me back,” he says softly. His brown eyes are warm and inviting. “Silence them.”

She nods silently and flips open the book. Their fingers remain threaded.

The popsicle all but melts down to the heel of Tooru’s palm as he stands with his back to the open window in his bedroom. It’s the peak of summer heat and there is little to no wind to ruffle the curtains, which makes any activity a pain in the ass. That’s why the four of them are here; gathered in his room instead of sweating the hours away. Iwa, Maki, and Mattsun are seated on the floor where it is cool, the fan not far to Maki’s left. They’d be afraid of catching a cold if it weren’t for their hatred of the heat, a sentiment shared by Tooru. There’s only one annoying, prickly problem.

“Where does she even go every summer break?” He voices out the question that has been gnawing at him for the past two weeks.

Maki looks up at him. “Y/n?”

The mere mention of her name has him cringing.

“The fuck you talking about?” Says Iwaizumi, throwing down two cards, the sight of which makes Maki groan. “You know she goes to her aunt’s house in Tokyo.”

Tooru frowns briefly before it turns into a teasing smirk. “How come you know so much about her, Iwa?”

“Just because you don’t want her around,” Iwaizumi states, “Doesn’t mean others don’t either.”

That makes him want to roll his eyes, but his eyes seem dead set on staring at the floor. Suddenly, the creamy tiles are the most interesting thing that ever existed. Maybe if he stares at it long enough, he’ll think about something other than the fact that the room sharing a wall with his has been empty for exactly 14 days. That’s a hard ‘maybe’, as I well know.

“Woohoo,” Whistles Maki, his grin a stark contrast to the frustrated groan from before. “Our Tooru misses Y/n? Look at him frowning.”

Mattsun follows up with, “Oop, he’s glaring now. So scary.”

“Motherfcuker probably just misses making fun of her.” Iwaizumi joins in, focusing on the cards for the most part. “Your turn.”

What Maki says next as he plucks two cards from his spread stuns Tooru. It sews his mouth shut, barbed wire woven into his lips, and the words tug on it like enraged prisoners within a cell.

“To be honest some of the things he does could be considered criminal offenses.”

Fingers curling under the windowsill, he fights to select the right words. And fails.

“Like I’ve done anything serious.” Tooru mumbles, “You guys are mean.”

It’s quiet for exactly 37 seconds, with the exception of the fan working its magic and the boy’s muttering, before Iwaizumi decides to bring up the topic of her again, much to his Captain’s chagrin.

“She has a boyfriend last I heard.” He says ever so nonchalantly.

But Tooru has never, and I mean never, wanted to pummel Iwaizumi into the dirt as much as he does at this very moment. He wants to grab Iwaizumi by the hair and drag him down the stairs and then across the concrete until he’s nothing but a pathetic version of his handsome self. Because, no matter how much he tries to convince himself that the words just spoken are but a figment of his imagination, the incredulous looks on Maki’s and Mattsun’s faces force him to confront this disillusioning reality.

“What?!” the two boys bark out in unison.

“Why the surprised faces, you bastards? She’s a cute girl and extremely smart.” Iwaizumi says, frowning, “Never met anyone so intelligent before if I’m being honest.”

Maki nods, sighing. “Whenever she speaks, I feel so fucking dumb. Still like hearing her talk though.”

“Yeah,” Mattsun says, almost as if he’s daydreaming as he abandons his spread to lie down on the floor. “She has really pretty lips.”

“Which lips?” Snickers Maki.

Mattsun side-eyes him and Iwaizumi kicks him in the shin.

“Don’t be a pervert man.” He chides. “She’s our friend.”

“C’mon, you know I didn’t mean it,” Maki grumbles, rubbing the sore spot. “Who even is this guy, anyway? Did she tell you?”

“Beats me.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “I just complained about being stressed out and she started talking about aesthetics and psychology and how she and this guy send each other moodboards. Making them helps them to relax apparently. Sharing them is good too because you get to talk to the other person about the meanings.” Tooru can almost feel his best friend’s gaze on him as he continues, “Didn’t mention the guy’s name though.”

If she had told him, would his best friend tell him anything or would he keep it a secret in fear of Tooru jeopardizing the one good thing that’s happened to her in a long while? Was that why she hadn’t told him the guy’s name? So that Tooru would have no way of knowing? Why did he want to know? Why was there this gnawing need to know everything about her, this urge that only serves to reduce his conscience to nothing? He doesn’t feel in control. It’s all hurtling down a downward slope at full speed.

“He could be just a friend.” Mattsun points out.

Iwaizumi doesn’t appreciate it in the least when people simply assume the worst of Y/n. To him, from the moment they met on the playground as kids, she’s been the sweetest; quiet but assertive when it counted and willing to help if help was sought. Her appearance is naturally fragile, delicate, and sometimes unhealthy looking to the point where he has to watch her eat in order to be able to sleep at night.

Then there’s always her quiet admiration of Tooru and his blatant disregard for her feelings. Voice full of mockery. His touch always a tad too rough. His obsessive need to be near her followed by his repulsion at the proximity. The constant verbal harassment (and sometimes physical) that those mindless sheep at school put her through just because his best friend decided years ago that she would be the recipient of his pain.

It’s about time she met someone who would cling to her words and be in awe of her. It’s about time Tooru stopped being the undeserving recipient of what she wanted to give.

“Why is it so fucking hard for you fuckers to believe that someone could like her.” He grits out.

“Not that. It’s just…” Mattsun shoots a meaningful glance at Tooru, which the boy doesn’t catch as he’s far too preoccupied with the way the underside of the sill feels against his fingertips. “You know.”

Tooru, who has tuned out everything after learning that Iwaizumi doesn’t know the guy’s name, feels anger bubble in his chest. A frothing, mordant thing.

“That’s nonsense.” He bites out.

The three boys regard him with expressions that vary just the slightest from one another. Iwaizumi’s frown of displeasure says enough about how he feels about Tooru’s unsolicited input, despite the conversation taking place in his bedroom. Maki remains unfazed, having gotten used to his Captain’s antics whenever Y/n was concerned. As for Mattsun, he looked equally curious and confused.

“No one could ever like her.” Tooru’s throat feels tight yet his voice comes out as grave. “She’s odd and short and weak and a social reject.”

Nails scraping under the sill, he resumes his tirade.

“She’s so fucking annoying with her silence and even more annoying with her rambling. She’s so fucking useless and worthless but thinks she’s above everyone else.” His gaze bores holes into the floor. “I wish she would just leave once and for all. Maybe I’d find peace.”

A few seconds later, Maki scoffs, “No, you wouldn’t.”

Tooru can’t stand to look him in the eye but resolves that he must if he is to show that he’s convinced of the things he’s just spouted. The game is over, having long been abandoned in favor of the latest gossip.

“She’s not even here, and look at you.” Iwaizumi gestures to him, eyes roving all over Tooru’s body, “All worked up. Spouting hatred for her. Acting like a little bitch desperate for attention.”

It takes everything in him not to stomp his foot like a toddler at a convenience store who has just been denied his favorite candy.

“You guys,” He cries out, internally begging them to see where he’s coming from, even if Tooru himself doesn’t, “She’s the one who wants to take everything away from me! She’s the one who’s desperate. She-

“Look man,” Mattsun says, supporting his weight on his elbows, “You may have convinced the rest to be assholes to her. And we may not be able to stop them all. But don’t try to do the same with us.”

It’s true. It’s wasted effort to try and make them see her through the same distortive lenses that settle over his eyes when in her presence. They will never understand the feeling of perceiving every little thing she does as an attack on his pride. Every smile is an attempt to steal something that rightfully belongs to him. Every word is her trying to worm her way into his life, coating every thought with her essence, and threading her presence in the little things that were his alone until his heart rate accelerates.

He’s always trying to accomplish things at a faster rate when it comes to running from or toward her, appearing godly or hellish when he knows her eyes are set on him. He’s never at peace. He’s not sure he knows what that is.

“Whatever.” He says evenly and crashes on his bed.

Not a minute later, Mattsun whispers, “What does he have against short girls?”

“Not against.” Maki snorts. “Just ‘in’.”

Tooru hurls a pillow at his head.

“Y/n-chan!”

Ayame’s voice can be startling thing sometimes. Like finding an open bag of candy on the countertop; surprising but welcome.

“You sound happy.” Said Y/n with a smile, hoping it didn’t show in her speech.

She could hear rustling on the other end. Probably Haru rummaging through plastic bags.

Ayame got straight to the point, as she always did whenever overcome with excitement.

“Haru-chan said I can help with the organization of the exhibition.”

“Really?” Y/n wished Ayame’s enthusiasm would rub off on her. She wished she could let it happen. “That’s good. We’ll have to set like a time for our meetings.” Tapping the pencil on the open notebook, she looked at the calendar on the computer. “Is Wednesday and Thursday fine with you? I know you’d rather go out with Kuroo on the weekends than do this.”

She could practically see Ayame do that pronounced shake of her head.

“That’s fine.” The girl said. “Should we do it at your place or ours?”

“Mine is fine. You can spend the night here when we’re done.”

For a moment, Y/n thinks the line has gone dead or that Ayame has hung up after relaying the message. But if that is so, why can she still pick up on the girl’s breathing? The sniffle that trickles through the device; how can emotions pass through something that had died?

“Y/n-chan.” Ayame speaks her name, and it startles her.

Y/n hums, the pencil going still. “Hmm.”

And with that, comes the deluge… the apology.

“I’m sorry.” Her friend says, and for a moment Y/n cannot put her finger on what the apology refers to or tell if it is true. Still, the girl on the other end continues. “I’m sorry for what I said that night. I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t. I was angry but I didn’t mean it.”

It is a deluge. Y/n does not know which of them is drowning. But she can picture Ayame, right there, crying as she poured her heart out. She can see herself, submerged, with only the following words bubbling up to the surface.

“It’s okay.” She sounds firm, even, all the things she’s been forced to realize that she’s not.

More sniffling on the other end, and then a feeble, “Really?”

“Really.” But is it the truth of what she feels? Y/n isn’t ready to face that, to feel it, and the pencil grows heavier between her fingers. “I forgot to mention. We can’t meet up tomorrow. I’m… attending this event with Oikawa so I won’t be home until midnight. If not later.”

That’s when Chiharu gets closer, so close even, that the phone call is sticky with the sound of her chewing. “Wait. Tooru invited you?”

Y/n nods and little stars begin to take shape on the margins of her notebook. “Yeah, today.”

More chewing. “You guys are basically buddies now, huh.”

“We’re taking the same classes and presented a project together.” She pretends that it’s nothing, that speaking of him isn’t like dragging a heavy suitcase while all she can hear is the screeching of its broken, missing heels. “Also, he’s your cousin and hangs out with us on the regular. More often than I do, that’s for sure.”

“That’s because you won’t get your nose out of those fucking books for one second!”

Meeting her barking tit for tat, Y/n mutters, “And I’ll keep doing just that.”

“Please, Y/n we need love!” Here come Haru’s theatrics, making her smile. “Why are you starving us?”

“Kuroo copycat.” Her wrist keeps moving and the stars come alive with color.

The chewing stops. “I’m going to block you.”

Y/n shrugs even though they can’t see her. “Wouldn’t you hate that more than me?”

“Oh, fuck you!” The girl on the other end cusses out, laughing and choking at the same time. “You’re right.”

January 19th

Tooru is thinking of her while the fury of winter bangs against his bedroom windows, howling for entry. He is thinking of her pulling down the sleeves of her sweater, the expanse of her neck hidden under that thick blue scarf, the supple flesh of her palms, and the purple hue that took over as his gaze traveled up to her fingertips. He is thinking of the stealthy yet sincere smiles, their existence further dimmed by the shade of a tree, the haze of a rainstorm, or the brightness of a summer day.

Tooru is in his sleepwear, a pitcher of water and bottle of pills on the nightstand to soothe the migraine that overran his wish to stay up until late just an hour after the two of them parted ways. Tooru is just about to swallow another when he hears the notification sound. The number is not one he recognizes, and he would have blocked the person on the other side if it weren’t for that very first message.

Unknown number: Tooru-nii

It has him getting into a sitting position with such haste that the phone almost slips from his shaky hold.

His little half-sister, Shigeko, already has his number and she messages him whenever she wants or can. Tooru’s responses are far and few between but… he’s playing his part. The point is that her number has long since been added to his contacts. There is only one other person who refers to him as an older brother.

Unknown number: It’s me, Isaac.

Heartbeats grind to a halt.

Unknown number: How are you?

Each text sends another shot of anxiety coursing through his veins. It is worse than the spike of adrenaline he gets when he feels that he might not be able to reach the ball, yet still reaches for it in some way or another. Right now, he doesn’t fight or flee. Tooru is frozen on the spot.

Still, swallowing the jagged stone of fear, he manages to type the following.

You: Hey, buddy! I’m good :D. How are you?

You: What have you been up to lately?

Not even five seconds later, he receives a response from the boy.

Unknown number: Tooru-nii!!!

Unknown number: It really is you! I wasn’t sure if I got the right number!

Tooru can almost hear Isaac vibrating with excitement. Or perhaps… it is a sigh of relief.

Unknown number: Nothing :) (replying to “What have you been up to lately?”)

Unknown number: I’m studying for exams so I’m really tired

Before Tooru can attempt to ask him about his social life, maybe about a girlfriend if he has one, or how his parents are faring, the boy says the one thing he was hoping he wouldn’t.

Unknown number: but I really need to ask you something

Despite knowing where it will inevitably lead, Tooru tries to act normal. He can barely get his hands to stop shaking before he types in the one-word response.

You: Shoot!

Hours later, he will think about what he could have done to derail the conversation. He will drink himself until he is but a heap of muscle and bone and his sheets are damp with his snot, sweat, and tears. But now he can only sit here, feeling the vibrations of his phone as the texts surge in.

One after another. Desperate. Pleading. Oikawa is not ignorant of the trickle of shame within him.

Unknown number: do you know where nee-chan is?

Unknown number: no one knows

Unknown number: no one

Unknown number: she just left

Unknown number: and she didn’t say goodbye

Unknown number: I didn’t say goodbye

Unknown number: but no one talks about her. It’s like no one cares and I can’t do anything

Unknown number: I just thought maybe you did

Tooru can feel his eyes warm up. The sting of tears is an all-too-familiar sensation by now, as is the clogging of his throat.

I just thought maybe you did. Tooru doesn’t have the time to ponder why that is. His hands are trembling and he’s holding the wrist of his right hand in place as he types so it won’t slip from his sweaty grip. It still does. The device remains on the bed for a moment, and Tooru stares down at it, chest heaving.

Then he plucks up the nerve to type a response that is both truthful and… disappointing.

You: Isaac

You: I know where she is

He considers divulging the details of her address, putting the young boy out of his misery, but then he tries to remember the last time she spoke of her family- truly spoke that is. Since their reunion, rare have been the occurrences when she’d let some childhood memory involving her family slip past her lips. Even then, it was mostly hushed, unintelligible, broken phrases, chopped bits she bit into and chewed; a process of regurgitation. He wonders if her tongue aches, if the words wear away at her throat.

She will perceive Tooru informing Isaac of her whereabouts as a confirmation that he hasn’t changed, that he is still that boy who would humiliate her or sit back and watch as others picked up his slack.

You: but I can’t tell you, buddy

He hesitates before typing a second message.

You: she doesn’t want to see anyone from back home

The message is clear, concise. It doesn’t divulge her whereabouts, only her boundaries. Tooru cannot imagine it stings any less.

Unknown number: Tooru-nii

Unknown number: nee-chan is in Tokyo?

Panic grips him by the throat. He can only let out a choked sound as he scrambles to kneel on the bed. Was it something he said? Did he overlook some small yet significant detail in his message?

One shaking hand holds up his phone as he types frantically. The other clutches the blanket for dear life.

You: Isaac please don’t look for her

He waits. He waits for the “typing” to cease and for a message to appear, conveying the boys understanding of the situation. Minutes pass, and Tooru waits.

When it becomes clear that his plea will receive no response, he sinks his teeth into his trembling lower lip, biting down until he tastes blood. The phone makes no sound as it slips his loose grip and the hand, now empty, finds purchase in the blankets alongside the other. He heaves and chokes as curses slip through his parted lips.

Suddenly, his every need, objective, urge, and base instinct converge to set a scene before him. He sees himself in this play. In this wretched, foul play. To become one with it, Tooru runs out of the bedroom and into the moonlit expanse of the living room and opens the first bottle he can find. The glass is cold. On its way down, the liquor does not burn.

Rin is on his second joint, eyes fixated on the movie playing on the TV⸺ the story of a young man and woman who are obviously in love and clearly never meant to be seeing how he never even invited her to prom⸺ when Atsumu turns to him and gives him the same look as the night he stormed home with a storm in his eyes (as he’d called it) and slammed his bedroom door with such force the hinges rattled in the otherwise silent apartment.

“You look down.”

Rin answered with the same old, “It’s nothing.”

Atsumu has let him be for the past few weeks. Whenever he asks, Rin answers to the worst of his abilities, and so he drops the subject. Not tonight, apparently.

“Why don’t you talk to me, bro?” His friend asks, and Rin feels him shift on the sofa.

He can feel those brown eyes of his pinned to his profile, brows scrunched in worry. It is a tentative kind of worry, the kind that has you feeling guilty for being unforthcoming and vague in your responses even if it’s not to burden the same person who worries for you.

Rin does not move to face.

“New Year’s Eve.” He releases a puff of smoke. “Y/n and I kissed. And then something happened so I left.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Atsumu’s eyes widening. Maybe he’s excited for Rin but knows better than to show it considering the kiss… apparently didn’t lead to a happy ending.

“What happened exactly?” His friend asks instead.

Rin shrugs and for a moment he wants to drop the blunt on his lap and watch the tip burn into the fabric.

“One thing led to another and it ended up with my tongue in her mouth, touching her while she described how I flirt with the people I end up fucking.” His throat constricts a little at the end. “She said that I don’t disappear with her the way that I do with them because I don’t see her that way.”

To his credit, Atsumu doesn’t speak. He lets silence and all that preceded it settle like dust on furniture. Rin rubs his finger on the arm of the sofa, picking at the fabric.

“I’m sorry man.” His friend says, uncharacteristically hesitant. “She probably-

“Why does she always feel the need to dictate how others feel about her?” It comes out of him unbidden. The words had fermented in his saliva for weeks and now they were good enough to spit out. “Why does she always assume she’s forgotten?”

Rin sort of hopes Atsumu can’t see the way he has to swallow before picking up where he left off. He hopes the dim, grey glow of the screen isn’t enough to strip him naked.

“It upset me so I left and when I went back looking for her… she wasn’t there.” Another couple in the bed where he’d kissed her and the sweet scent that lingered faintly on the silken bedsheets; apparated before his eyes with every word. “She wasn’t at the party at all.”

Atsumu looks at the TV, but Rin knows it’s him he’s watching, not the girl… Marianne is her name.

“So, you think she’s mad?”

“Maybe.” Answers Rin. The blunt in his hand gets smaller by the second. “Not sure about ‘mad’. But she’s confused and upset for sure.” Maybe guilty, he thought. “And I don’t know how to approach her without sounding like a douche.”

“Well, fuck.” “I mean my girl and I; we argue sometimes. It’s mostly my fault cuz I can get really annoying-

“Color me surprised.”

“I’m trying to be cool and supportive here!” That provokes a chuckle out of Rin which, in turn, makes Atsumu smile. “You know I’ve always been a player. I always thought I wanted someone or something but changed my mind once I got what I wanted. It’s the reason she didn’t really want me in her life at first.” The smile grows and it looks genuine. Rin has only ever seen it when he speaks of his brother or in the showers after a victory. “But I’m trying to be good for her. It’s a nice change of pace.”

Then, Atsumu pats his shoulder in encouragement, giving him a crooked smile as a treat.

“If you’re sorry for leaving, then just apologize.” Rin side-eyes him. Atsumu has never been one for apologies, unless you count the insincere, forced, and petty strings of words that he insists are good enough to express regret. “I’m serious, dude. Even if she doesn’t forgive you, which I doubt, then at least you’ll know she’s no longer wondering what she did wrong.”

That’s the thing, though. Atsumu doesn’t know her as well as Rin does if the latter ever knew her at all. He has counted the stars on his ceiling until they fell asleep, cuddled next to each other, splashed her with seawater, felt her arms around his waist… and she feels no more familiar than a ghost that haunts his dreams.

Still, he sighs out the smoke, stumps the blunt into the tray, and concedes, “Alright. I’ll try.”

“You won’t have to try too hard. She just moved in next door.”

His neck hurts from how fast he snapped it in Atsumu’s direction. For a moment, he is certain a wintry chill has infiltrated their apartment. Rin feels it beneath his clothes.

“Stop shitting me,” Rin bites out in disbelief.

Atsumu must not be feeling the cold because he grunts out. “I’m not shitting you, dude. She lives three doors down.”

January 21st

It’s raining when Tooru comes to pick her up. He’s cladded in a black turtleneck, dark jeans, and a grey coat that reaches a few inches above his ankles. His hair is a bit damp from the few minutes he spent crossing the distance from his car to the entrance of the apartment building. How he was able to find parking in such unforgiving weather, is a miracle, but Y/n isn’t complaining. Neither is her roommate, Livia, who announced his arrival with a shout and barged into her bedroom demanding Y/n spill everything she knew about the scrumptious young man currently sitting on their living room couch. Y/n told her his name, which she’d learned by then, that he was her classmate at the University, and that she was to accompany him to an event tomorrow. Livia had let out a dreamy sigh, grabbed her by the shoulders, and told her to make the night count.

Y/n herself shoves on a black turtleneck, a checkered beige skirt with black tights underneath, black boots, a beige coat, and the midnight blue scarf to top it all off. The last item doesn’t match the rest of the outfit, which she’s well aware of, but it’s so smooth and warm that she can’t bear to part with it.

Tooru greets her with a beaming smile and they head out after bidding Livia goodbye.

“Is there a brand you like?” He asks after turning the key and the engine roars to life. “So that we can narrow down our options.”

Y/n bites her inner cheek, trying to come up with an answer that’s not entirely embarrassing. One glance at him out of the corner of her eye and she can tell he’s waiting for an answer.

“I mean, it’s not like I know much to begin with. I mostly thrift.” She answers truthfully. “But from what I’ve seen on Pinterest… Dior and Chanel, I suppose. The 90’s vibe. And Elie Saab.”

Tooru hums, picturing her in dresses from each brand, then smiles. “Elie Saab it is.”

Then, because an awkward silence has taken over, one that Y/n finds as uncomfortable as a pair of too-tight shoes, she decides to continue the conversation as he rounds the corner that leads out to the main street.

“I know their work from Pinterest,” She says, “But you must have seen it up close and personal.”

Tooru chuckles.

“Well, yes.” He admits, glancing at her only briefly. “For all his absence, my dad has never failed to pay child support for both my older sister and me. So, we’ve always been loaded and spending money left and right.”

Y/n huffs and faces the window. “Rich people behavior.”

“Can’t argue with that.” His laughter fills the car, and it’s suddenly a little warmer. “Growing up, our mom would try to make us see the value in the small things. Like saving up and sharing. And she did succeed with one of us. Sayako-nee grew up to be generous, kind, understanding, and caring. The only person she is nothing like this with is our father, which is understandable.” There’s a pause and Y/n thinks he’s finished talking so she turns to look at him. His grip on the steering wheel, as he stares ahead, could shatter bones. “And I’m me. Always hoarding whatever I’m given, relentless in my greed, with corrosive envy and ravenous pride. Always spending because I know my future is set in stone, for better or for worse.”

Y/n doesn’t know how to respond to that. She’s not sure whether she’s supposed to say anything at all. He looks a little lost like her presence in the seat beside him barely registers in the fog of his mind. If her intuition doesn’t deceive her, Tooru looks torn and indescribably lonely.

The wet strand of hair that he tucked behind his ear when she came out of her bedroom has dried and taken the shape of a wave. She’d always wanted to ask him if that was his natural hair pattern. Had never dared to. Well, now she knew the answer.

The rest of the car ride is spent in silence even though Tooru knows he could fill it with small talk or his usual teasing, but the energy for that is nowhere to be found. Certainly not within him. He wishes she would strike up a conversation, any conversation, just so he could hear her speak. She has such a whimsical voice after all, like that of an old soul with millennia worth of stories to tell. He wonders how her singing voice would sound. Breathy? Eerie? Remote? Would he ever know?

But after 30 minutes of driving and an additional 10 minutes of trying to find a parking spot in this godforsaken weather, Tooru decides he’s had enough of the unyielding silence. No more.

“We’re here.” He announces, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Unlike him, Y/n remembered to bring an umbrella, which meant that he would be the one holding the black thing above their heads as they practically ran toward the high-end store two blocks south. Her hand is in his, and he has to stop himself from bringing it to his lips so he can kiss each finger. It’s such a silly thing to wish for while they’re trying to get away from the merciless downpour. But he just can’t help it.

Once they walk through the glass doors of the boutique, they can breathe properly without the fear of catching a cold. The employees greet them- greet him, to be exact. Either he is a regular or it’s obvious how much wealthier than her she is. Either way, they’re kind and helpful as they answer his questions and lead them toward the section with the garments that best fit his description.

Y/n is so distracted by the rich fabrics and bewitching designs that she barely catches what Tooru is saying. He’s standing to her right with what appears to be three dresses hanging from his arm.

“Here,” he says, smiling as he takes her by the elbow and toward one of the changing booths. He hands her the dresses. “Try these on, pretty.”

Tooru takes a seat on the couch and beams at her as she slides the curtain of the changing room to cover her from view. To remark that the dresses are beautiful feels like an understatement. They’re so exquisitely tailored that the design almost seems to come alive; the midnight sky, a silky bed of emeralds, and rubies melting against the balls of her feet. They must cost a fortune.

She takes off her clothes and tries on the emerald green dress first. The material slides down her body with ease, and Y/n finds herself wondering how it is that Oikawa knows her size with such accuracy. Could he tell with just one look or had he perhaps asked his cousin, Chiharu? Either way, it clung to her meager curves just right, even adding them where there were none; the exquisitely cinched waist and the puffed chest area.

“So,” She began after sliding the curtain to the side, “What do you think?”

Tooru can only try to swallow his gasp at the sight of her. His first instinct is to abandon the comfort of his seat and rest his hands on the small of her back. But he doesn’t have that privilege, so all he can

“How does the fabric feel? Is it itchy?”

She nods. “A bit.”

“Thought so.” He hums, pensive, and then points behind her to the clothes hanging from the hanger. “Try the midnight blue dress. The velvet one with the spaghetti straps.”

So, she does and the sense of comfort that envelops her is almost instant. The fabric is smooth to the touch, meaning she could rub her palms over the expanse of her thigh in case the nerves got to her. It is enough, she thinks, to have an escape route even if it’s only in the way of zoning out.

“Should I try another one?” She asks as she stands before him.

With a smile on his lips, Tooru shakes his head and rises to his feet. At his sides, his hands twitch, almost as if they wish to shed their skin.

“What do you think,” He says instead, “About putting an accessory around your waist?”

“Like a necklace you mean?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, some kind of necklace to emphasize your waist.”

Y/n looks down at her feet and just shrugs.

“If you think so.”

Tooru’s hands itch all the more at her response, and before he knows it, the urge to touch her has won over his restraint.

“Now, on to the shoes.” The enthusiasm bleeds through every word as he takes her hands in his. “You’re a size 37, right? European size.”

She lets him lead the way and when the employee asks her which type of footwear she has in mind, she answers, “I don’t usually go for heels because I have horrible coordination so maybe something that will make me look taller that I can comfortably walk in.”

“Certainly, miss.” The employee waves out her arm. “This way, if you please.”

The employee graciously shows them three pairs of heels she thinks may be a good fit. Tooru takes it upon himself to help her put them on after thanking the woman for her service. The first pair, the color of midnight blue studded with crystals, turns out to be a tad uncomfortable given that the heel exceeds 4 inches in height.

“There.” He fixes the clasp of her left heel. “Are they a good fit?”

She nods, walking to and from the glass shelf a few meters from where they’d been sitting. The second pair has turned out differently, it seems. The heels are not above 3 inches and the backs of her feet don’t feel sore after walking in them.

“I like them.” She tells him once she stops in front of him.

She expects that to be the end of their shopping spree. But Tooru is nothing if not a man full of surprises.

“Now, I know you’re probably gonna freak out about this but hear me out.” He rushes the last part once he catches her wary glance. “Jewelry is absolutely fundamental for the look we’re going for, and you already said yes to the one around the waist. So, I think that a pair of earrings would look stunning on you.”

Y/n places the heels on the floor. “You’re overdoing this.”

“What do you mean?”

She looks up to see him tilt his head in confusion.

“You’re spending too much on me.” She clarifies while putting her socks back on. “You shouldn’t.”

He expects him to groan and whine but Tooru catches her off guard by taking a seat next to her and leaning in close.

“But it’s because I want to. I really, really do,” There it is, the whining. “So please let me.”

“Would you give up if I refused?”

He looks down at his hands, biting the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to, though.”

Y/n doesn’t know why but she relents. He tells her that the earrings will be a surprise. Even after she tells him there can be no surprise when he’s already told her, he insists their exquisiteness will take her unawares. He pinky promises to catch her if she should faint at the sight of them.

July

The afternoon boils with chatter, sweltering heat, and the music blasting from Chiharu’s speakers. They’re at Kuroo’s vacation home, the size of which never fails to amaze Y/n. If she weren’t subconsciously reigning in her facial expresions, she’d be gawking, staring at the huge gate, the fountain before the stairs that led to the main door, the walls of the foyers lined with paintings of exorbitant value, the lush garden with it’s bizarrely trimmed bushes, and so much more of what Chiharu likes to call « rich people bullshit ». She says so right to Kuroo’s face too and he responds by headlocking her as the lot of them file into the house.

They’re halfway up the front steps when Y/n feels a hand on her shoulder, peeling off the straps of her sunset orange backpack. She looks up to find Rin staring at her as if to ask for cooperation.

« Let me help you. »

« It’s not that heavy. » She tells him. « I can carry it upstairs. »

His mouth twitches. « You’re can’t afford to lose 10 inches of height. Give it to me and stand up straight. »

« Your posture is worse. »

« Yeah, » He hooks his index under one of the straps. « But my height can afford it. »

Not wanting to seem weird, Y/n chooses to feel like a burden by letting the boy carry it up to her room, which is opposite hers on what is referred to by rich-boy-Kuroo as the western wing. You’d think it was a castle and not just a really big house. A gargantuan house.

Rin sets her backpack on the bed, carefully might I add. He knows how careful Y/n is about her possessions and doesn’t want to upset her.

After that, they take turns taking showers, Rin letting her go before him while Chiharu and Kuroo get into a shouting match about the towels. Kenma flees the scene with a roll of his eyes while Ayame tries and fails to get them to cool off. Rin ushers her into the bathroom before the quarreling duo have the chance to set their sights on her.

The shampoos smell nice, and they even have labels with their names on them No wonder Kuroo pestered them about their hair types before the trip was decided. His efforts have paid off because Y/n has rarely felt so relieved and clean before.

Maybe it had something to do with the environment as well. This is Kuroo’s house. They aren’t blood related. He does not remind her of home but in a way… she feels that this is what it must feel like. This is how children feel when they come home after a long day of classes. How she wishes the year was made of summers and summers only.

They join Kuroo’s parents, who are delighted to have them over for two weeks, for a light lunch. Y/n sits between Rin and Kenma and joins the rest in their laughter with smiles of her own before catching herself in the act and looking down at her reflection in the bowl of clear summer soup. She’s so embarrassed to have smiled and so anxious about anyone having noticed that she internally scrambles to find refuge in something. Anything that isn’t the joy of those at the table.

Rin reaches for the salt shaker and in the process, she catches a wiff of mint shampoo and the pine scent of his perfume. For a split second, she contemplates easing him down so she could brush her nose against his pulse and breathe him in. But then he’s sagging back into his chair and sprinkling salt onto his vegetables, baring his teeth in a grin as Kuroo cracks another joke. Y/n shakes her head lightly and swallows a spoonful of soup.

They spend the afternoon in their respective bedrooms, and Y/n is glad to see that the maids have turned on the air conditioner so that the room isn’t the equivalent of an oven by the time she gets back. Even the blinds are drawn so that the sun may not heat the carpet, bedding, or furniture. The 2-hour nap she gets is pure bliss.

Ayame wakes her up with a knock at her door, announcing that they are to go for a swim at the beach nearby in about 30 minutes. Y/n promises to join them and tries to remove the sleep from her face by spalshing some water on it, applying some cherry lipbalm, and braiding her hair in a loose crown around her head. She throws on a pair of olive green shorts and a white shirt above her two-piece sage green swimsuit, shoves her feet in a pair of white slippers, and then she’s out the door.

Rin throws his arm around her shoulders, says something she can scarcely hear, and keeps her at his side the entire walk. Y/n doesn’t mind. He smells so good after all, like a pine forest by the sea, and the scent reminds her of the green of his eyes.

Only, she feels warm where his knuckles brush against her own. The evening breeze and the seawater cool down every part of her but the spot that tingles.

She’s content with burying her feet in the sand and watching the rest of them play volleyball⸺ Kuroo and Ayame vs Rin and Chiharu⸺ while Kenma assumes the role of the referee at her side. At one point, Chiharu almost goes for Kuroo’s jugular and it’s only by the grace of Rin’s strength that she does not. The bickering idiots soon get distracted by the promise of the meal Mrs. Yukimiya, the housekeeper, had the maids pack for them beforehand. This way they can ravage the sandwiches instead of each other.

It is then that Rin comes to sit to her right, Kenma having left to nibble on a piece of watermelon.

« Wanna go for a swim? » He asks her.

Y/n tilts her head. « Again? »

« Is there a limit? »

So they head in, submerging before rising to the surface once again. He shakes his head before combing back his wet hair with his fingers and swiping that same hand down his face. His eyes settle on her chest.

« I think your top is loose. » Rin tells her, and her arms instinctively shoot up to shield herself. He cracks a small smile. « Turn around. I’ll tie it for you. »

As he does, her cheeks go aflame, as if it were possible to blush any harder.

« Don’t worry. » He utters, loud enough for her to hear him above the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. « I didn’t see anything. »

She sighs and, when she thinks he’s no longer listening, mutters, « Not like there’s much to see anyway. »

« You have nice tits. »

That single sentence stuns her and the coming wave almost sweeps her under. Luckily, Rin’s fingers wrap fiercely around her forearm, steadying her, and Y/n looks up at him through her wet lashes. He’s laughing but it doesn’t make her feel… small. She feels like joining him.

« I should do that more often. » He says, splashing water over his toned torso. « It’s fun. »

Y/n follows his example, shivering as a particularly cool breeze sweeps over the beach.

« What is ? » She asks.

There’s a twinkle in his piercing green eyes as his hand comes up to cart through her wet hair. « Catching you off guard. »

As if to distract him from her flaming cheeks (the temperatures are not to blame by the way), Y/n splashes him and swims away. He’s hot on her heel, intent on catching up. Not that it takes long until he does. They swim away and toward the shore time and time again until their limbs tire and the only solutions are to either get out or float. So there they remain, backs to the seabed and faces to the darkening sky, until the edge of the horizon has swallowed the final remnants of the sun.

That night, they gorge on watermelons and lemonade. They’re almost bursting with it by the time Kuroo’s parents have turned in for the night, leaving the teenagers to enjoy the song of the crickets in the garden. The temperatures have significantly decreased and a pleasurable chill hangs in the summer night air.

Y/n is on her 5th glass of lemonade. It trickles down her chin. Before she can grab a napkin from the roll at the center of the table, Rin swipes his knuckles across her lips and chin, effectively doing the job. His attention is elsewhere as he licks off the residue. It’s almost as if the gesture is second nature.

The following two weeks can only be defined as bliss. An unprecedented era of peace in Y/n’s life. She’s surrounded by people who don’t hate her, and even seem to tolerate her. The days are filled with the summer heat, the conversations at dinner after Kuroo’s parents have bid them goodnight, smoking weed when no one is looking, lemonade, watermelons, movie marathons, volleyball and shouting matches, card games the rules of which Y/n can barely understand (it embarrasses her greatly), late night swimming in the outdoor pool, and quick trips by bike to the convenience store. Ayame sits behind Chiharu, Kenma behind Kuroo, and Y/n behind Rin.

« You’re gonna stretch out my shirt. » He says jokingly the first time she settles in the back, her fingers curled around the sides of his shirt. « Here, just warp your arms around me, okay. »

At first, the proximity seems daunting. It isn’t just proximity after all. Her front is flush against his back, and Y/n fears that Rin will sense her heartbeats through the layers of cloth, flimsy as they may be, and find it pathetic that she feels dizzy because of human contact.

But these thoughts are short-lived. With her cheek pressed to his shoulder, arms around his middle, enveloped in the fresh sea-scented air, Kuroo’s and Chiharu’s hooting laughter, and the way Rin turns his head just the slightest to smile at her… there is no more reason to be ashamed of her rapidly beating heart. They are all on the same page.

She still tutors Rin in the gaps of time that they can’t fill with sleep but everyone else can. They sit smack in the middle of the living room with a fan turned on as she explains trigonometry to him, all while they munch on sandwiches and cantaloupes. Lemonade, of course, is not missing from the menu. At one point, while Rin is laboring to solve a problem and she takes a sip of her lemonade, a laugh escapes her that the boy does not fail to notice.

« What is it? » He asks with a smile on his lips. It’s the first time he’s heard her laugh at… seemingly nothing.

Though she stops laughing, a smile still plays on her lips. « The lemonade looks like you. »

« Like me? » Rin raises an eyebrow, twirling his pen. « How can I resemble a drink? »

Y/n sets down her drink, watches the outer walls of the glass sweat.

« Your eyes. » She clarifies. « When you look at me it feels the same as when I grab a glass of cool lemonade and drink it. »

« You mean to say I am refreshing. » He teases.

She meets his smile with her own. « I do. »

Too lazy to go to their rooms, they fall asleep on the floor, the glasses of lemonade sweating on the table.

On the last night of their vacation, with his parents’ departure having taken place two days prior, Kuroo decides they need to go all out, and by that, he means they should go through his dad’s alcohol stash and steal some. Unsurprisingly, Chiharu fervently agrees, Kenma doesn’t give a shit, Ayame tells them to be careful, while Rin and Y/n take a bite out of the cold cherry pie.

That is not to say that when Kuroo and Chiharu succeed in their endeavor, the rest do not willingly participate in the debauchery. They drain up to six bottles altogether while singing along to the songs in Chiharu’s playlist. In a rare display of agreeableness, Chiharu and Kuroo shout the lyrics with their arms swung around each other’s shoulders while Ayame tries to blink away the coming sleep.

At one point, the rest of them head inside to cause some ruckus, leaving Rin and her to sit by the pool. You can still hear the music playing loud enough to keep Y/n’s neighbors back home awake. But she doesn’t want to think about that place. It’s nice to dip her toes in the cool water, in new experiences.

“Oh,” She lifts her head, looking in the direction of the house when a new song starts playing, « Depeche mode. »

Rin looks at her in silence for a few seconds, then rises to his feet.

« Let’s dance.” He says, hand outstretched.

Y/n takes it, and together they head to the garden, away from their friends’ prying eyes. The grass cushions their steps as they sway in each other’s arms, and the scent of the flowers envelops them in some feeling akin to excitement and tranquility. This moment, drunk on so sweet a scent, feels a little like falling in love.

“You smell nice,” Y/n mutters into his chest.

His hands travel up from her waist, settling between her shoulder blades. “You feel good.”

They cling to each other like sweat on your sweaty skin during the summer heat. It takes a chilly breeze to sever the embrace. Rin’s hands are still where they were before, fingers trailing up and down the ravine between her shoulders as his eyes photograph the sight of her in his arms.

“I bet kissing you would feel like a leap through time.” He says, smiling a little.

Y/n suddenly misses the cover of his chest. “Why?”

His eyebrows come together as a ponderous expression takes over his features. He seems to be trying to word his response.

“Because it’d be so brief.” He says with a teasing smile. “Hours would feel like a split second. And you’d become impossible to catch up with.”

For a second, her heart stutters in her chest. Her heartbeat becomes an irregular, spluttering thing. It takes all of her drunken courage to look him in the eye and respond to his teasing in kind.

“I’m gonna bet on something too.”

He raises an eyebrow, mouth slightly parted. “Yeah?”

“Bet it felt the same to kiss your cousin’s crush.”

He must not have expected her to bring that up (she’d seen him making out with a girl and later learned that it was indeed his cousin’s crush) because his ministrations on her shoulders come to a halt. Not for long though. He recovers at the speed of sound, his right hand coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb brushes back and forth over the flaming skin.

“You’ve lost the bet then.” He whispers, and somehow Y/n hears him over the music. “I win.”

She hears their breaths synchronize as he leans down, head angled. With her hand over his chest, she can make out the violent waltz of their heartbeats when his lips ghost over hers, the sliver of space between them begging to be consumed. She hears the wind passing through the garden as he leans forward and presses his lips on hers, tongue flicking at her bottom lip and she feels compelled to let him in. It is euphoric to be touched, and he touches her so kindly every time.

His hand, previously on her shoulder, slides down to her waist, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss. In their state of drunkenness, it is amazing they haven’t tumbled to the floor by the time he releases her and they both come up for air.

The music has stopped. Their friends have settled in a quiet rhythm. Or perhaps they have fallen asleep on the couch.

“See?” Rin whispers, slurring his words as he drags his thumb along her bottom lip. The flesh feels so soft and bruised under his touch. “Too brief.”

Y/n doesn’t know if smiling would be too weird. What matters is that she’s drunk so she doesn’t care about that. She looks up at him with eyes filled with wonder and a smile on her lips. It stays that way long after they’ve fallen asleep in each other’s arms beside their friends.

It is a tragedy that she remembers none of it when the morning creeps up with claws of gold and a promise of tearing them from this summer. Or the summer from them.

Don't even know if there are ppl still reading this fic lmfaooooo

But anyway i still remember some of the people that asked me to tag them. @invyou @kurookinnie @tuttumi the last one is my best friend she's obligated to read my shit you can't escape hoe

#yen per second #haikyuu #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa tooru angst #suna x reader #suna x y/n #suna rintaro angst #suna rintarou #oikawa tooru #oikawa fic #suna fic

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tickling-giggles · 1 year ago

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Hello! I was the one who sent that last ask (meant to say accounts not bliss idk why it autocorrected to that) and that’s so great! So if it’s not against your rules may I request ler illumi with a lee younger sister reader? Not too much younger, like only three years? So they’re both adults :D Thank you, I love your work!

You’re still the same

Summary: Illumi is helping you move into your apartment and he brings up some of his your favorite memories together. You explain how you’re 22 now and not a little girl anymore but Illumi has ways to prove other wise.

Fem!reader (little sister) no weird stuff just sibling love. There also is a wee bit of swearing

A/n: first one of the day 🌟(this is probably so freaking terriblezzz) Gon x Killua are mentioned. I tried giving Illumi a little flavor

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“Do you need any assistance?” Illumi asked as he saw you struggling with a huge mirror. “I got it Ill” you simply responded as you almost break the mirror. “You know I’m here to hel—“ he was about to remind you for the MILLIONTH time before you cut him off “yes yes Ill I know you’re here to help your sister whenever with whatever but I got it” you sighed, laughing to yourself as you looked around to see what else needs to be done. “You forgot the little infront of sister.” He said just to be an ass.

“I’m only three years younger shut up plus I am 22 years old now technically 23 sine my birthday is next month” you lightly hit his arm as you crossed arm side-eying him with a grin on your face. “Still little not only in age but in size too Kil may be taller than you” he raised a brow as he scoffed. “You’re still my little sister at the end of the day plus it’s not like I’m calling you my baby sister so you’re okay.”

“Okay but like it sounds like we’re 12 and 15” you looked at him. “You remember at school when you tripped that one kid and he fell down the stairs but only his arm broke from the fall” Illumi chuckled at bit bringing up old memories. “Oh my gosh yes he had it coming he was so annoying” you shrugged your shoulders smiling. “You remember when you dislocated the chimera ant’s shoulder” he brought up. “Can you believe I was only 4 when I did that” you smiled. “Not to brag but I taught you that when you were 3” he said as he brushed his fingers through his hair.

“No need to gloat there bucko” you chuckled. “See I taught my little sister so much” he patted your head before you swatted his hand and point at him. “I am 22! I’m not little I am an adult and how dare you pat my head.”you dramatically acted shocked.“Look at you trying so hard to be so proper that adorable I should tell mom.”Illumi teased. “Actually I am an adult adorable is not in my vocabulary and you should start acting your age too” you sassed him.

“Oh I’ll act my age like the annoying 15 year old brother I can be” he raised his eyebrows popping his knuckles. “You threatening me?… Wait! Illumi no don’t fucking do it” you point at him slowly backing away. “Do what y/n? Tickle you?” He asked in a sly tone as he inch towards you. “Yehes exactly that” you giggled as you tried to make a run for it. He swiftly grabbed your wrist pinning you onto the sofa. “I’ve been a big brother for how many years 22 I knew you were try to make a run for it” he scoffed.

“Would you like to change your mind? Hint hint this is your last chance” illumi asked. “Fuhuhuck off” you giggled anticipating. “No wonder we’re Kil gets it from learned from his bad mouth sister” he chuckled a bit as he poked at your sides.

“Yohohou’re such ahahan ass hahaha” you giggled. “So what you are too” he sassed pinching your sides. “Someone is quite squirmy today” he teased acting clueless. “Yohohou’re literally tihihickling me”

“Oh I am?! I didn’t even notice” he acted surprised.

“Wehehehehe are lihihihuterally aduhuhults and yohohou’re tickling mehehehehe like a frehehheheaking kid” you laugh as you weakly push at his hands as he gotten closer and closer to your armpits. “I wouldn’t care if we were 75 and 72 uh oh someone is getting a bit squeaky” he scoffed as he teased. “Ihihi am nohohohot”

“You are so stubborn you know none of this would be happening right now if you just accepted you’re my little sister” Illumi explained finally reaching your armpit. IHIHILLUMEHEHEHEHEHEE STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHUT”

“OHOHOHKAHAHAY ILLUMEHEHEHEHE IHIHIM STIHIHIHIHILL YOHOHOHOUR LITTLE SISTERAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” You squealed as you gave in slapping the floor. “And don’t forget it” he said as he stopped the tickles. “You’re still a teen ya’know you may legally be an adult doesn’t mean you have to immediately start acting like one” he told you.

“My god you’re acting like she’s going mars for the rest of eternity” Killua exaggerated rolling his eyes. “I can give you this treatment too Kil” Illumi said with a bit of mischief in his eyes. “Yohou’re one to tahahalk didn’t mom say you were bawling your eyes out when you first found out I was moving” you laughed as you teased him.

“Anywayssssss mom wants us all back for dinner” he side-eyed you with a faint blush, as he put his hands in his pockets. “Are you bringing your boyfriend?” Illumi teased as he smirked a tiny bit. “I—WH—HE— SHUT UP!!” Killua stuttered blushing even more as he slammed the door “HURRY UP!!”.

“Come on before he starts whining and pouting” you rolled your eyes as you got up.

#kiara answers #anon ask #anon request #hxh tickle #lee!reader #ler!illumi #anime tickle fic #tickle drabble #hxh tickle tic #hxh tickle drabble

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dreamingofyeo · 10 months ago

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𓏲๋࣭ ࣪ A siren's song࿐࿔𖦹ִ

Chapter 5: elixir of docility ࿐࿔𖦹ִ

~ Details in masterlist

~ Playlist (will be keyed and ordered)

~ 1,521 words

~ Chapter warnings: manhandling, forced ingestion, alcohol, gunshots

~☆彡 tumblr's algorithm works off of reblogs so please consider it if you like my work :)

A/N: I’m so sorry for the inconsistent updates I really have no schedule for them with uni :’) I will be finishing this fic though don’t worry :)

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Tortuga.

What a truly audacious place.

When the anchor of the crimson hits the sea bed at long last, you feel it in your bones. The pull against the ship igniting a new flame of hope within you, you’d been living off of one flame thus far. Now there were two.

You look over at Yeosang, his eyes reflecting your own well concealed hope. The plan is simple, slip away from the crew when they’re drunk in one of the many taverns the island has to offer, call upon this mysterious favour Yeosang alluded to, and escape. If they choose to leave you behind? Well, there’ll certainly be less crew members to get past.

The navigator looks back to the map on the table between you, his thumb swiping across a crease rhythmically as if it would somehow flatten out the results of lack of care. You can’t help but remember the time those hands were so gentle with your own.

The cabin door swings open unceremoniously as vervona stalks in, Broner on his heels like a loyal dog. He observes you both for a moment before jumping into his speech.

“Well then, as you’ve no doubt noticed, we’ve made port. I can’t very well leave you here with m’ship and no crew now can I? So you’ll be coming with us. But then I can’t very well either have you wonderin’ off, now can I?”

His borderline incomprehensible speech irritates you. But that feeling turns to dread when he reveals a vile of shimmering red liquid. Vervona continues, a fresh tinge of malice in his tone.

“We can’t be turning any more heads than the usual with what’s at stake, so I can’t be shackling you. Not physically anyway no, no this little beauty will bind your minds.”

A potion?

With that Broner walks over to you and secures a rough hand under your jaw, forcing your mouth open. You don’t fight it, the second flame was fleeting. You could swear you saw Yeosang’s hand leave the map and reach for you.

The drop of liquid hitting the back of your throat burns like no alcohol you’ve ever tasted, it is pure fire. You feel it absorb into every vein and can almost picture the invisible shackles, your mind becomes a prison. It is empty, craving for instruction, terrified of free will.

Yeosang steps away when Broner walks to him, as if contemplating doing something possibly very ill conceived.

“Kang?” Vervona speaks softly now, it’s somehow more frightening.

He decides against whatever crossed his mind, you sigh in relief. Broner grips him the same as he did you, sparing no amount of force in the process. You watch as his eyes glass over and become distant, his posture losing its strength as he ingests the potion.

With that, the pair slam the cabin door behind them with gruff laughter, leaving you and Yeosang in the most docile state imaginable.

“What was that?” You’re surprised you can even ask.

“A docility elixir, it makes us follow his every command whether we wish to or not. In other words, there will be no escaping today.”

Disappointment and sadness wash over you like a tidal wave. A thought crosses your mind, it’s bold but you dare to voice it anyway.

“Is it purely instructional? Surely we can act around that?”

Yeosang smiles and laughs dryly.

“It’s instructional yes, but acting on anything which opposes that- direct or not, is still very difficult. And he will feel the tug on his mind if we try to.”

“I see…” you slump against your chair slightly.

No further time is given for you both to mull over your predicament though. For the door opens again, and when told to come outside, you do so without question or thought.

The ship is silent. You’re in front of the captain, he speaks to you both clearly and concisely.

“Neither of you will run. You will stay by my side from the moment we leave this ship to the moment you return to it. You will not attempt any form of escape or mutiny against me. Is that understood.”

A blue bird lands on the rail of the ship, it chirps once. Yeosang twitches.

You answer in unison.

“Aye captain.”

He turns, you both follow. The blue bird flies into the sky.

The island is a very unusual place to be sure. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everyone looks to be having a joyous time. There are people of all backgrounds stumbling about drunk to the clouds, women with more cleavage than cover atop barrels and balconies, gunshots and fiddle music. A truly audacious cacophony of sights and sounds indeed.

By the time the last batch of supplies is collected, the sun is setting and casting an orange glow upon your surroundings. It’s shimmering off of swords and the glass in various stalls, sending beams of light all around you. However, you can hardly focus on the beauty of such a thing considering the fact that your feet are aching beyond comprehension. You need nothing more than to sit down and drink some water, but you physically cannot stop walking. It’s torture.

Yeosang’s features are set in a grim line of concentration, you wonder what he is thinking about. After so long of being captive, the opportunity to escape ripped from him, is it your fault? If you weren’t here would they trust him enough to not bind his will like this?

There’s a chirp to your left, right beside Yeosang. There is another blue bird, no- the same one, you’re sure of it. The navigator doesn’t flinch this time, in fact you’re sure he’s suppressing a faint smirk.

His expression returns to that which it had been as Vervona turns and makes a loud announcement to the crew. A sly grin on his maddened expression.

“Now then, I think it’s time for a drink don’t you?”

The crew erupts into hoots and cheers. With dread gnawing at your stomach, you all make your way to the tavern.

The tavern is just as you expected to be frank, dimly lit with lanterns, reeking with the stench of pirates- for which bathing is apparently foreign. Quite small as well, tucked away in a back alley away from prying eyes. Much like the table you’re led to, right in the corner save for a well embroidered rug behind it.

You’re sat down rather forcefully by Broner. He is to your left, Yeosang to your right, with Vervona at his side. A pint of beer lands in front of each chair not long after, compliments of your captain. You restrain yourself from downing it in all of 30 seconds due to your thirst.

By an hour in, the crew and vervona are all very, very drunk; you and Yeosang have been strategically pacing yourselves and hiding out of rounds where you can. You’re both tipsy at best.

There’s a man by the bar who keeps staring at your table. You’ve noticed, you wonder if Yeosang or Vervona have too. He is very unique, fitting right into his setting. Delicate tattoos adorning his skin, a silver streak in his dark hair, with a calculating look across his features. He’s nursing a cocktail when he locks eyes with you, before turning away and beckoning the bartender over.

You’ve long tuned out of the incoherent babbling and boasting of the crew. Each attempting to one-up the other on their various conquests and tales of gore-filled glory. However the ramblings of one in particular catch your ear.

“We need to finish off Kang’s crew, the bastard needs to be taught a lesson for abandoning our captain.”

You wonder what it means. Yeosang tenses beside you, faintly, but all the same telling.

A new round of drinks arrives, not beer this time but some sort of cocktail. Vervona questions it with the bartender, only to be told it’s ‘on the house’.

There are dainty leaves adorning the tops of the drinks, the liquid a shimmering blue. It’s unlike any drink you’ve ever seen. Except it is.. it’s strikingly similar if not the same as the one the man at the bar had.

You look at Yeosang and are startled to find him staring at you, a command hidden in his now hope filled eyes. You down this one instantly.

Moments later you feel the shackles melt away, the relief you feel as you breathe free will back into your lungs in unparalleled. That feeling is short lived and replaced by fear as five strategically placed gun shots sound, and the lanterns of the tavern go out.

And whilst everyone immediately stands up and bares their arms, the sound of hinges sounds behind you followed by a soft thump. Suddenly there are arms tucking under your own. Your mouth is covered instantly and you fight off a scream into the familiar hand as you lock eyes with Yeosang in the darkness for a moment before you’re both practically ripped from your seats. The pieces begin to come together as you and the navigator are pulled down a trap door.

<-Chapter 4 ~ chapter 6->

Taglist (open)

comment if you’d like to be added or removed :)

@voicesinmyhead-rc @decadentstrangernacho

@baek-at-it-again95 @amalialoved @lilactangerine @vampzity @edenesth

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laquilasse · 2 years ago

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I'm so super glad you're into Yugioh now!! I've loved your art forever and seeing you draw the Kaiba bros is a dream come true, you draw them so well! I'm curious though, do you have any ships??

I’m glad you’re liking the yugioh stuff!!! Kaiba bros were meant for me I swear lmao. And in terms of ships, not particularly? To me yugioh is a show about siblings. Seto and Mokuba (and Noa). Ishizu Marik and Odion. Trinity and Joey. And I know not everyone sees it this way but I also see Yugi and Atem as like… siblings isn’t entirely the right word even though I think their interactions give SOOO much older and younger brother energy. But more like they’re two halves of the same soul that were separated and then grew in different ways if that makes sense. But regardless their interactions are more familial to me than anything (though I realize that’s not everyone’s take). (This is also just me playing in the space but I loooooove the idea of Seto and Kisara having the same kind of deal. They’re part of the same soul but her soul is sealed in a stone tablet, and even then she found her way back. Then Kaiba pulls out his 3 blue eyes and it’s like ✌️😜 me n the girliepoos!!!)

The only thing I could say for ships personally is that I’m living in an au in my head where Atem refuses the afterlife and gets to stay in a body of his own, and him and Kaiba have a thing. And then at some point there’s a failed marriage proposal Pride and Prejudice style where kaiba’s like “I am SICK I am ILL I can’t stop thinking about you, I’ve tried, I can’t, it makes me so fucking pissed that I’m obsessed with some broke dweeb that was living in the brain of the dweeb in chief, so just MARRY ME.” And Atem just kind of looks at him like uh huh….ok….and….you thought this phrasing would make me say yes. Well I can’t say I’m surprised that you are once again back on your bullshit.

I also think it’s very funny if Kaiba and Ishizu have a thing specifically because my friend sent me a manga panel of Ishizu saying she was prepared to die if she couldn’t save her younger brother and kaiba’s like “holy shit she’s just like me fr….” But again that exists in a mind palace where Ishizu and Atem are like. Friends with benefits who are both dating Kaiba and he schedules quarterly reviews with both of them wrt The Relationship. So all the shippy stuff to me is purely for comedic effect essentially. Also if all disagreements between the three of them are handled immediately with a duel and smartass comments which I think would be particularly fun to see with Ishizu, because it’s a crime we only got to see her duel once (though she did make Kaiba sweat which was so real of her). I also think that Kaiba deserves to be smacked in the mouth but I like mean people so I wouldn’t want anyone to do it—EXCEPT Ishizu because of all the shit he talked about Marik (even though he was yami Marik at the time). He knows the rules about messing with younger siblings so if she smacks him in the mouth he had it coming.

Anyways tl;dr - all of this to say that the ships aren’t too serious to me, it’s the family relationships that really hooked me on yugioh!!!

#THAT WAS LONG LMAO SORRY #I’m obsessed with ishizu though and it kills me that we didn’t see baby her kicking marik’s ass in duel monsters #clown-k1ng #ask #anyways disclaimer the ship stuff is not at all serious to me #instead please please please talk to me about seto having empty nest syndrome when mokuba goes to college #Nii-sama stop being a moping diva I’m going to get a business degree so I can help more as kaibacorp VP

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writing-abt-headspaces · 7 months ago

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Mishap At The Moth’s Studio (Part 3)

A/N: Just to make things clear… At first, it was supposed to be just age regression. But, I decided to turn it into a Classification AU. (You can probably tell already by the first chapter at what point I sloppily changed my mind.)

But also, so you’re not confused: Val and Velvette, don’t know what ‘Littles’ are and the whole classification thing. They were just lucky to be Neutrals, so it was never a problem for them to not know what it was to begin with. Vox on the other hand, has heard of it, but only recently did his research. But, he’s also a Neutral.

Just wanted to let you know, in case you get confused or (possibly offended 😓) if they start talking about Angel like he has a mental illness.

And AGAIN: Little!Angel will not be abused in this fic. (There might be a part where he gets hurt by accident, but it’s nothing major or disturbing.) But, the Vees (mostly just Val and Velvette) are not good at babysitting. They’re the kind of babysitters that would apply the “3 second rule” when feeding a baby after their apple slice falls to the ground.

⚠️BLOOD AND VIOLENCE WARNING!⚠️ (But, not from any of the four characters in this chapter.)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Velvette let the two in, and Valentino carried Angel to a beanbag, and then face planted himself on the floor.

Valentino groaned, his voice muffled against the cold tiles. Everything in his body was immobile as he stayed laying face down on the floor, and not in the very sexy sense.

“s’ Miste Butte’fwy dead…?” The little spider asked, looking down at the moth while chewing on his thumb in worry.

Velvette rolled her eyes at the moth’s drama queen behavior. “Nah, he’s fine.” She dropped the bag of baby supplies on the floor next to the beanbag and walked closer to the ten foot bug on the ground, and lightly kicked his lower right arm. “Tino, get the fuck up.”

Valentino didn’t move. He only replied with another muffled whine, his face still kissing the floor.

Velvette sighed in exasperation, clearly running low on patience. “Tino, seriously. We don’t have time for your theatrics.”

Angel whimpered softly at seeing Valentino so unresponsive. “Pease, Miste Butte’fwy…”

Valentino let out a dramatic groan, finally rolling onto his back. “Fine, fine. I’m up. Happy now?” He slowly sat up, rubbing his face with his upper hands while using the lower ones to push himself off the floor.

“Ecstatic,” Velvette replied dryly. She then turned her attention to Angel, who was still nervously chewing on his thumb. “Alright, Itsy Bitsy, how about we find something fun for you to do?”

Angel nodded eagerly, a small smile spreading across his face. “O’tay! Fun!”

Valentino, now fully sitting up, looked at Velvette with a raised brow. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

Velvette shrugged. “I don’t know, but we need to keep him entertained and calm. Any suggestions?”

Valentino thought for a moment, “Pequeño, what would keep you entertai—“ He turned to Angel only to find him missing from the beanbag, and sense something clumsily crawl passed him from behind.

Both he and Velvette, turned to find the hyper little spider, crawling towards Velvette’s work table.

“Pwetty dollies!” Angel giddily said, eyeing the two miniature mannequins on the table.

Velvette’s eyes widened in panic, then ran towards her desk to grab the mannequins just before Angels could get his hands on them. “Hey! No!”

Angel’s hand recoil from Velvette surprising him.

“These aren’t ‘dollies’! They’re mini-models of the outfits I’m currently designing!” Velvette held them close to her chest, refusing to the spider touch her work.

However, her anger disappeared and turned to panic as soon as she saw the little spider’s pink pupils expand and turn glossy. His lips quivering as he was ready to cry again.

“Hell no!” Valentino quickly scampered to his knees, and hurriedly went over to cover Angel’s mouth.

“Velvy…” The moth says in a pleading tone. “For the sake of both our eardrums, PLEASE let Angel play with at least one of your dolls!”

“They’re not dolls!”

“Not the fucking point!”

Velvette narrowed her eyes at the two men, before dropping her arms and groaning. “Ugh! Fine…”

She faced away from them, and looked between the two mini models, thinking. The one in her right hand was almost halfway done, the one in her left only had the first layer of her dress on.

She turns back and hands Angel the model in her left hand. “Here. Play with this one, and stay AWAY from the other ‘dolly’. Okay?”

Angel’s eyes lit up, and he aggressively bit Valentino’s hand away, resulting in the moth shrieking colorful spanish words, as he took his hand off Angel’s mouth, allowing the spider to grab the doll.

Angel hugged the doll, nuzzling it against his cheek as he giggled. He looked up at Velvette, “Tha’kou Velly!” He says, barely pronouncing the letter ‘V’.

“Yeah yeah… Wait.” Velvette’s face wrinkled, from mishearing the spider. “What did he just call me?”

“I think he was trying to call you ‘Velvy’, like I was. But, said ‘Velly’ instead.” Valentino said.

“Well, he can barely pronounce the V. It sounded like he said ‘Belly’.” Velvette retorted, cringing.

“Belly!” Angel enthusiastically repeated.

“Ew, no. Don’t call me that.” Velvette said covering her ears.

If Valentino had pupils, Velvette would see him rolling his eyes.

“Say ‘Vettie’ instead.” He told the spider.

“Betty!” Angel said.

“Better?” The moth dryly asked the woman.

“A little bit. But, whatever.” Velvette replied.

Valentino couldn't help but chuckle at Velvette's discomfort. “Alright. Any other problems you have with Angel?”

Velvette sighed, "Well, I’d like to keep him away from anything valuable or breakable. So, that rules out most of my work area."

“Noted.” Valentino lazily picks Angel up, walking back to the other side of the room and plops the spider back onto the beanbag.

Angel, still clutching the mini-model, noticed the plastic bag of baby supplies next to him. Curious, he moved the doll to his lower set of hands, and rummaged through the bag with his upper hands.

His eyes sparkled once more at what he found. He giggled as he pulled out a pacifier, immediately popping it into his mouth, and happily sucks on it, then moves back to playing with the doll.

Valentino sighed in relief, seeing the chaotic little spider quiet and content. “Well, that should keep his mouth shut for a while.”

Velvette rubbed her chin in thought, “Shouldn’t that be sterilized…?”

Valentino shrugged, “The worst he can get from an unsterilized dummy is a dirty mouth. And that’s nothing new.”

He turned to the pink haired woman, “Now what?”

Velvette sat down on top of her work table, rubbing her temples. “Now, we wait for Vox. He said he’d be here soon, right?”

“Yeah…” Valentino said, leaning against on the desk, using his two left arms to support his weight. He’d pull out his pipe, but knowing how incredibly sensitive Angel is to cursing and yelling at the moment, he’d rather not find out how the spider would react to him smoking. “But knowing Voxxy, ‘soon’ could mean anything from five minutes to five hours.”

Velvette groaned. “Great. Just great.”

“So, how long do you think this... condition will last?” She asked quietly, not taking her eyes off Angel.

Valentino shrugged. “No idea. Vox might know more about it, but for now, we just have to manage. Though, he did say something about ‘age regression’. Little headspace, and all that shit. But, I don’t really get it…”

He pulled out the chair from Velvette’s desk, and sat down. “I still think it had something to do with that one scene, he was filming with my newest hire. I told that amateur to exaggerate his thrusting and groaning to look more ‘beastly’. I didn’t tell him to scream in Angel’s face and hit his head against the fucking headboard.”

Velvette snorts, at the thought of it. She raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "So, you're saying this whole mess is because your newbie overdid it?"

Valentino rubbed his eyelids, “I mean… Until we get a proper explanation, that’s what I want to believe. That this all happened because, some fuckhead unsexily hit Angel’s head."

"I’ll agree with you for now." Velvette said. "Vox better have a damn good idea, on how to snap him out of this ‘headspace’ thing, though…”

Valentino nodded. "I’ll see if I can reach Vox again and get an update.” He pulled out his phone and searched for Vox in his contacts.

The call connected. But before Valentino could speak, his phone started sparking and blue lightning streaks shot out his phone, causing the moth to shriek in a high pitch voice and drop the device.

The small electric bolt hits the ground and Vox appears in the room, standing right before the other two Vees.

“So, Val. Vel. What’s the status with Angel?"

Valentino quickly picked his phone back up, and glared at Vox before standing up and answering. “Angel’s quietly playing by himself right now,” he points at the occupied spider. “but we can’t keep this up forever. How do we fix the little bitch?"

Vox raised a brow at the moth. He was silent for a moment before responding. “Val, did you not understand everything I told you ealier?”

Valentino only blinked at him confused, before narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as if telling him ‘I didn’t understand shit’.

The TV demon sighs, rubbing the part of his screen in between his eyes. He muttered under his breath, “Of course you fucking didn’t….”

He looks back up to Val and explains, “To make things more clear for you —Angel is a little, that’s his classification. And he is currently in his headspace, which sometimes happens because of trauma or stress. He probably regressed because he was stressed out or something. I take it, aside from the usual shit you pull on him, something else went down at the studio today, that was too much for even Angel this time?”

Velvette snorted again, “Well what do you know, Tino? It was because he ‘hit his head’.” She doubled over, trying to stifle her laugh.

“What?” Vox gave Valentino a questioning look.

Valentino’s face contorted in a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. “Yeah, well... Let’s just say one of my newbies took my words too literally, and hit Angel’s head against the headboard. Freaked the little twink out.”

He paused, for a moment to glance at Vox. And the look the TV demon gave him, showed he doesn’t believe that was the whole story.

The moth sighed, “Buuuut, it could be from the recent kink requests I accepted from viewers, that I didn’t warn him about before we started shooting. Hitting his head was probably just the last straw.”

Vox deadpanned but nodded. “That explains a lot. Knowing you, I’m honestly impressed he hasn’t broken down and regressed at the studio a lot sooner.”

Velvette, who had been listening halfheartedly, interjected. “Okay, Vox, but what do we do about it? How do we snap him out of it?”

“Snapping him out of it isn’t possible. That’s not how it works.” Vox replied. “From what I’ve gathered before coming here. Regressing isn’t something that can be controlled. He’ll come out of it naturally, but only IF he regresses properly. Stressing him further could make things worse. So, the only thing we can really do is take care of him. We can only hope that the better he feels, the quicker he’ll get out of his littlespace.”

“Great, more babysitting,” Valentino muttered under his breath.

“Consider it your hellish penance for letting things get this far, Val,” Vox shot back. “We gotta keep him away from any more triggers.”

“Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t give two shits about this. But because it happened here at the V Tower, to Angel Dust, a pornstar, out of all people —we can’t let any caregiver overlords know about this. We wouldn’t want anyone thinking Val was a ‘different kind of predator’ than in his animal roleplays.” The TV demon explains, using his fingers as quotations for the last bit. “That would ruin all of us.”

Valentino threw himself back on the chair, and pulled his hat down to his face to scream into.

Angel, finally looking up from the doll, noticed Vox. Smiling brightly, and crawled towards him. “TV man! Pway wif me?”

Vox forced his face expression to changed to look more appropriate, to the spider. “In a minute, kid. I’m talking with the other adults here, okay?”

Angel stubbornly puffed his cheeks at the answer. And that’s when Vox noticed the pacifier in his mouth.

He looked at Valentino and Velvette, while pointing at it. “You two did sterilize that thing, right?”

“….”

Vox sighed then lightly grabbed Angel by the cheeks. “Hey little sport, could you give me that for a second. I promise you’ll get it back.”

Angel wanted to protest, but decided to obey. This guy seemed nicer than Betty and Mr. Butte’fwy. Sure, he was still saying bad words, but he was the only person who didn’t yell at him or make him cry yet. So, he let the TV man squeeze his cheeks and make him spit out his pacifier.

Vox tosses the pacifier to Velvette, who caught it on reflex. “Take that and the baby bottles to the kitchen. We don’t have a sterilizer, so just use a pot. Ten minutes of boiling should be enough. Then come back here with a bottle of milk.” He told her.

Velvette flipped the TV demon off with an unamused face, before getting off the table to grab the bag and leave.

“Okay Angel… C’mere.” Vox called, as he reluctantly allowed the spider to crawl up into his arms. “Maybe letting you watch some cartoons would set you in a sleepy mood.”

He carries him to Velvette’s bed and sat down, placing the spider down on the pillows, and positioned himself in a way so that Angel can see his face.

The TV demon’s face disappeared from the screen, and a colorful video full of stuff toy-looking characters walking on two legs appeared, in its place.

“Ooh~ I didn’t know you could do that with your screen, Voxxy.” Valentino said as he strutted towards the two on the bed.

“I never planned on showing you, because I know you’ll come up with something disgusting for us to do in bed with it.” Vox retorted.

“Oh? You can still talk while playing videos on your face?” Valentino teasingly asked, amused. “What a shame… Here I thought, you would be a more tolerable movie partner this way~”

“You’re the one who kept replaying that one scene from 50 Shades of Hell, sixty-nine times!”

“Teddy!” Angel said as he pointed and tapped excitedly on the screen, at the green bear frolicking in the meadow while licking on an ice cream cone.

“Angel, my face isn’t a touch screen.” Vox said as calm as he could, gently grabbing the spider’s wrist to get him to stop.

Suddenly, another one of the characters, a blue moose, bumped into the bear knocking down his ice cream, and the mood changed entirely. He started growling, and his teeth got sharper, as he glared at the person who soured his mood.

Valentino was absentmindedly watching alongside the spider, until that scene came up. He raised a brow.

The moth isn’t sure why he bothered doing it, but as soon as he sensed something wasn’t right with this cartoon, he slowly brought all four of his hands in front of Angel’s face and covered his eyes.

“Huh?” Was the only thing Angel said, when his vision was blocked again.

Just as he expected, the bear chose violence. Picking up the fallen cone, he stabbed it into the moose’s eye, tackled him to the ground and chewed off his limbs with an even more cannibalistic vigor than a cannibal town folk.

“Voxxy, where the fuck did you get this from?” Valentino asked the TV demon, still not removing his hands from Angel’s eyes.

The video disappeared and Vox’s face returned, and he answered. “VoxTube…” he says rubbing the back of his neck, while thinking. “Uh… I think I need to fix the algorithm….”

“No shit.” The moth said, dropping his hands from Angel’s face.

Angel was only listening to bits of the conversation. Despite feeling upset he wasn’t able to watch the cute teddy bear, his eyes were starting to feel too heavy for him to complain. “Beddy time…”

Right in cue, Velvette finally returns with a full bottle in one hand, and a pacifier in the other. “Here’s his stupid dummy, and the fucking formula.”

Angel made grabby hands, when he saw the bottle. “Baba…!”

Velvette tossed the bottle to Vox, who caught it and gave it to Angel, guiding it to his mouth. The little spider laid back down on the pillows, as he sleepily drank away.

“Hey, don’t let him sleep on my bed!” The pink haired woman protested.

Vox waved her off. “Relax. I ordered a crib and told Papermint to have it set up in the spare room, down the hall. As soon as it’s set up, I’ll move him.”

“Why did you—“

“So, he doesn’t roll off.” Vox cut the moth off. “Being secured in a crib, means we don’t have to keep watching him while he sleeps.”

.•.•.

Angel eventually fell asleep, snoring away on Velvette’s bed. Bottle finsihed and replaced with the pacifier.

Vox then finally received a call from Papermint, about the crib being ready.

“Crib’s good and ready.” Vox said to the other two.

“Good. Now get him out. I’ve shared my room long enough.” Velvette demanded.

The TV demon rolled his eyes before rolling up his sleeves, “Yeah yeah, calm down or whatever…” He scoops Angel up making sure to be gentle as to not wake him.

He carefully carries Angel towards the door, that Valentino opened for him, and tried to shuffle his way through the door sideways since it was too narrow to bring Angel through facing front.

However, despite that, Vox accidentally hits Angel’s head against the door frame. The impact knocking Angel out of his arms and onto the floor, still unconscious and snoring away as if nothing happened to him.

Vox froze in shock, staring at the ground where Angel was in horror.

“GAH!”

Valentino hovered a hand above the TV demon’s shoulder, “Vox, it’s fi—“

“AH!”

Velvette tried to speak up this time, “He’s fine! He’s still asleep—“

“AH!”

“Kids… Kids are hardheaded. Angel’s hardheaded! I would know, since—“ Valentino was cut off once more.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Vox gripped the sides of his head, still looking down at Angel with wide eyes and shrunken pupils, one of his eyes were swirling and his voice was buffering. Clearly not listening to what his business partners are saying.

Meanwhile, Angel curled up into a ball and giggled in his sleep. Surprisingly, being dropped and the yelling didn’t wake him up from what nice dream he was probably having.

“Tino, just pick him up. Vox is hysterical.”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I’m sorry I had Vox drop Angel, but I don’t really expect them to be perfect all the way through lmao.

Don’t worry, if I don’t delay this idea, little Angel and big Angel will be benefiting from this, even more than he doesn’t think he will.

#angel dust agere #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vox #little angel dust #little!angel dust

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