#or um. open tumblr for more than five minutes

[yellowocaballero]

Naruto Roleswap Fic: Uchiha Family Values

“How do you do,” Itachi said quietly. Itachi always spoke very softly, as if every time he spoke he was begging you not to hear him. He looked down at the squirming kid, who had grown enraptured by Tobi’s ugly mug. “This is my brother. Sasuke, say hello.”

Promptly, Sasuke said, “You only have one eye!”

Tobi made a show of gasping, slapping one hand to the side of his head. “Oh no! Really? Tobi dropped it?! Tobi needs that! Will you help me find it, Sasuke!” Sasuke nodded his head furiously, ready to lend his ninja services to their newest client. “Thank you! Maybe I dropped it in the dirt around my house?”

Sasuke turned around and promptly attempted to run off and scrutinize a wide field of dirt. He was stopped only by his brother, who casually captured his collar and turned him back around. Shisui just laughed, crooked white teeth gleaming. Four of them had been replaced by replicas. 

“I knew you were the right person to ask! Tobi-san, I need a big favor.” Shisui made a show of clapping his hands together, ducking his head pleadingly. “Will you play with us?”

What was this kid’s game? 

There's only one thing Obito hates more than Konoha, and that's the Uchihas. Unfortunately, the prospect of supervillainy has not occured to him, so now he's stuck babysitting his cousins. Or, if you were to ask two of the cousins, babysitting him.

If you were to ask one of the cousins, he would say that there's more to Tobi than meets two Sharingan eyes. And there's nothing that Obito Uchiha hates more than that.

There's plenty of scenes of this AU that I don't feel are complete enough to post on Tumblr, but I feel as if this is one of them. It's a bit long, but I think I'd want to post it before posting the others. It's far from the first or last story in the order it was written or the order that events take place, but it's valuable context for the relationship Tobi will have with Sasuke and Shisui later on. I love Shisui. Shisui's fun. He's free real estate.

CW for noncon drugging (roofie'ing, basically) and constant background ableism. As usual I'm incapable of writing something without strong disability themes OTL. 12k of Uchihas being so abnormal under the cut.

A knock interrupted Tobi in the middle of his katas. After all this time, he still found them meditative and calming. He practiced them at the same level he used when he was eight, but that was the relaxing part: where other people had old stuffed animals, Tobi had old exercise routines.

The knock echoed again, sharp and impatient. The full situation processed far too late, and Tobi’s furious mental processing of the event could be summarized as: who the hell wants to talk to me? As a general rule, people didn’t talk to Tobi. Especially not Uchiha. 

Oh, well. He’d get rid of them in under five minutes. It couldn’t possibly be a social call. Tobi threw on a bathrobe and opened the door, yawning widely. 

Standing on the doorstep to his parent’s home was a mostly familiar teenager and two much more familiar children. The teenager was grinning broadly, the older kid had his only facial expression on, and the youngest kid was clutching onto the older kid’s hand and looking around curiously. What the fuck was all of this. What. Children? In Tobi’s house?!

Tobi yawned again, holding a hand over his mouth. It was eleven in the morning. “Um? Itachi-chan…?”

The teenager hurriedly gave him a shallow bow. “Hi, Tobi-san! My name’s Shisui. It’s nice to meet you!” He clapped Itachi on the shoulder. “And you’ve met Itachi-kun before, right?” 

Yes, yes, Shisui Uchiha. Everybody in the clan knew who Shisui Uchiha was. But he and Tobi hadn’t strictly met, and Tobi hadn’t seen him up close and personal since he was a tot. The kid looked pretty fluffy for Uchiha Genius #5. 

“Hi, Shisui-kun, my name’s Tobi.” Tobi looked around, seemingly really registering Itachi for the first time. He gasped, then broke into a big smile. “Itachi-chan! You’ve gotten so big!”

“How do you do,” Itachi said quietly. Itachi always spoke very softly, as if every time he spoke he was begging you not to hear him. He looked down at the squirming kid, who had grown enraptured by Tobi’s ugly mug. “This is my brother. Sasuke, say hello.”

Promptly, Sasuke said, “You only have one eye!”

Tobi made a show of gasping, slapping one hand to the side of his head. “Oh no! Really? Tobi dropped it?! Tobi needs that! Will you help me find it, Sasuke!” Sasuke nodded his head furiously, ready to lend his ninja services to their newest client. “Thank you! Maybe I dropped it in the dirt around my house?”

Sasuke turned around and promptly attempted to run off and scrutinize a wide field of dirt. He was stopped only by his brother, who casually captured his collar and turned him back around. Shisui just laughed, crooked white teeth gleaming. Four of them had been replaced by replicas. 

“I knew you were the right person to ask! Tobi-san, I need a big favor.” Shisui made a show of clapping his hands together, ducking his head pleadingly. “Will you play with us?”

What was this kid’s game? 

Whatever. This wasn’t the time to worry about that. Most importantly, Tobi absolutely didn’t want to play with them. Tobi had never liked kids, Itachi was a waste of time if his parents weren’t around, and Shisui had an ulterior motive for asking. Most importantly: Shisui was committing a major clan taboo by asking this at all. Which would be one thing if it was just him, but to drag along the main family kids like this? He was shit-talking the village in front of the Hokage here. This had to be some ridiculous clan politics that Tobi didn’t want to get swept up in. And it was setting a pretty awful precedent to involve him in clan politics at all. Tobi was involved in nothing, that was the point.

Tobi broke into a sunny smile, clapping his hands. “Really? You really want to play with me? Nobody ever wants to play with me!”

“No clue why,” Shisui said, lying through his fucking teeth. He looked down at Sasuke, who had finally processed the eye comment and was engaging in the arduous mental task in determining that he’d been duped. “Come on, Sasuke, let’s play ninja with Itachi and cousin Tobi.”

Sasuke grinned too, unselfconscious and toothy like only a little kid could. Tobi could tell that it was the ‘Itachi’ part of the sentence that excited him more than anything else. “I call Hokage!”

Trust me, kid. You could have it. 

*

That was how Tobi found himself playing in his backyard with a six year old and a fourteen year old as an eleven year old babysat both of them.

Well, Sasuke was probably the one being babysat. But the babysitter definitely wasn’t Tobi. They had tried to make him babysit a few times when he was a teenager, and it had ended in disaster. Strangely, Tobi hadn’t even tried that hard to sabotage that one. A passerby grandmother had seen Tobi coaching the kid through learning Katon and promptly flipped out. Tobi hadn’t seen the problem. He learned Katon when he was three, and he turned out fine. And yet they didn’t leave him unsupervised around children anymore.

The babysitter didn’t even seem to be Shisui, as he was happily rolling around in the mud with Sasuke pretending to be an enemy ninja as Tobi convincingly pretended to be kidnapped. Poor Sasuke was up against thousand-to-one odds, bravely holding back the rising swarm of enemies as he fought to save his panicked teammate. Shisui was having the time of his life pretending that Sasuke’s pokes with a rubber kunai were just as effective as hamstringing him. Itachi was the one sitting on Tobi’s back porch drinking tea. 

It was a familiar sight, from a few different dimensions. Tobi turned around, ignoring Sasuke’s dart through the hastily summoned stone obstacle course to reach Tobi in his prison - how many jutsu did Shisui know? “Itachi-kun, come play with us!”

Itachi sipped his tea. “Have fun, Tobi-san.”

Tobi blew a raspberry at Itachi. Itachi blinked. “You’re still no fun.”

“Ah…sure.”

Sasuke halted in his assault on the enemy stronghold. “Aniki’s a lot of fun!” Sasuke screeched. “He buys me dango and then we watch Super Ninja and then he shows me cool moves!”

“Itachi-kun never buys me dango or watches super ninja with me or shows me cool moves,” Tobi said, wounded. Itachi coughed. “That’s no fair.”

Sasuke crossed his arms, nodding imperiously. “Make your parents give you a brother. Itachi did that. Mama says Itachi wished really hard for a brother and ate all his vegetables and that’s how I was born!”

What a birds and the bees talk. Itachi looked away, clearly embarrassed. “Tobi doesn’t know if that’s true…”

“Mama said so,” Sasuke proclaimed, as if he was dropping a bomb on an unsuspecting village. “Go back to being kidnapped right now!”

Itachi blinked mournfully. “Remember your manners, Sasuke.”

“Please be kidnapped.”

Tobi fell over, howling his head off. “Ahh! The evil ninja stole my eye! Evil men!”

“So that’s what happened to it!”

Shisui sat up from his prone position on the ground. He looked at Itachi. Itachi nodded. He made an impressed sound. 

The playdate passed absolutely uneventfully. Tobi was rescued from the bad guys before he was permanently  maimed, which was a pleasant deviation from the norm. Shisui was covered in dirt and twigs, but he was smiling broadly and happily swinging the laughing Sasuke around by his armpits. Itachi never said or did anything. He just stood by them like a particularly attentive rock. He responded when asked a direct question, but otherwise he just hovered near Sasuke or Shisui’s elbows. The kid seemed to be in a permanent state of begging you to forget that he existed. He never lost the tension in his shoulders.

Finally, the sun began to dip in the horizon, and Itachi told the others that it was time to go. It was time for Itachi and Sasuke’s dinner, and when the panting Sasuke asked Tobi if he wanted to join them Itachi tactfully rejected on his behalf. 

“I’m sure Tobi-san is very tired after playing with us,” Itachi said, as if Itachi had done anything other than guard the perimeter with watchful eyes. “Say thank you to Tobi for playing with us today, Sasuke.”

Sasuke waved solemnly. “Thanks, Tobi.” Sasuke looked up at Itachi, tugging on his hand. “Did I do a good job?”

“Good job at what?” Tobi asked. He was also covered in twigs and leaves, but he couldn’t call himself unsatisfied. 

Frankly, Sasuke said, “Aniki said that I have to be nice to you ‘cause you’re dumb. Sensei says I’m not good at being nice so I had to work really hard. Did I do a good job?”

Itachi blinked hard, which was his equivalent of a full-body cringe. Shisui openly winced. But Tobi just smiled, and he patted Sasuke firmly on the head. “You did a great job,” Tobi said. “Tobi thinks you’re a really nice guy, Sasuke-chan!”

Sasuke’s eyes widened, and something in them seemed to gleam a little. He bobbed his head in a nod that shook his entire body, and he hastily reached up to pat Tobi on the head too. Tobi crouched down a little and allowed him to rub his sticky hand on his head. It was the first time anybody but Gai had touched him in a long time. “Sasuke thinks Tobi-san is a really nice guy too!”

“Well, Tobi thinks Sasuke-chan’s even nicer!”

This has now become a competition. “Sasuke thinks Tobi-san’s the nicest in the entire village!”

“Tobi thinks Sasuke-chan’s the nicest in the whole world -”

“We have to go home,” Itachi said. He bowed shallowly at Tobi, who stood up. Sasuke pouted. “Thank you for indulging us, Tobi-san.”

“What does indulging mean?”

“...being nice.”

Sasuke crossed his arms smugly. “I told you.”

“We’ll be back to play more again later,” Shisui said, bright and eager. “See you then!”

Tobi waved the four boys off, and Sasuke kept waving until the moment Tobi shut the door.

Tobi firmly locked the door behind them. Well, that was weird. 

Whatever Shisui wanted - had he received it? One of his motives had undoubtedly just been to socialize Itachi. From what Tobi could see of their dynamic, Shisui frequently pushed Itachi to act more like a normal human being instead of a particularly brotherly robot. But they could have achieved that with some kids Sasuke’s own age - or, heavens forbid, Itachi’s. Maybe he had been trying to warn Itachi. Serving as a walking, living warning was one of Tobi’s limited purposes around the village. 

That would make sense. Calm down and stop trying to kill yourself on missions, Itachi, you’ll turn up like this washed up child genius. If that was the desired role, Tobi was more than happy to fulfill it. The one-time reminder and break from their duties would be sufficient for Shisui’s purposes. 

Except then he came back a week later.

It was the exact same deal. Tobi acted incredibly excited to see them again - and, for just a bit of spice, acted a little emotional over how he really hadn’t thought they’d come back - and Sasuke was somehow equally excited. It was definitely just because of the time with Itachi, but Tobi had successfully found the right method to worm his way into Sasuke’s heart. He was just like Tobi as a kid: he would do literally anything for the slightest bit of praise. 

“Sasuke-chan’s so smart!” Tobi clapped wildly as Sasuke proudly showed off his barest flicker of Katon. You could get more results with a lighter. Tobi had been charring off the faces of adult men at his age. “You’re so cool, Sasuke-chan!”

Sasuke humphed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding fastidiously. “I know. I’m gonna be just as good as Aniki one day. Then I’ll go on his missions so he can be home!” Magnanimously, Sasuke added, “You can play with Aniki while I’m gone, Tobi-san.”

“Wow, Sasuke-chan’s so dedicated,” Tobi admired. “I bet you work harder than anybody in your class!”

“Of course I do!” Sasuke cried heatedly. “Everybody in my class is so lazy! Ino and Chouji and Shikamaru and Ami and Kiba and -!”

The child continued ranting about his utter disdain for his fellow six year olds. Shisui just laughed and clapped Tobi on the shoulder. The touch burned. “You’re so good with Sasuke-chan, Tobi, I’m impressed. You were clearly born to be the cool older cousin.” 

Tobi grinned, giving Shisui two ‘v for victory’ hand signs. “Tobi is the coolest, isn’t he?!”

“I sure think so! Hey, I stole some mochi from Mikoto-baachan, would you like some?”

Tobi gasped in delight. “Mochi, mochi, mochi!”

“Mochi?!” Sasuke yelled.

They sat on Tobi’s back porch, swinging their legs and listening to the cicadas chirp and whirr. Sasuke eagerly narrated his entire existence to Itachi, who nodded at the scientifically designated correct intervals. Tobi recited his top ten favorite mochi in list format to Shisui, who made impressed noises and empathetically agreed with him at the scientifically designated correct intervals.

There was something about Shisui. He was a sweet kid. Filled with the invigoration of youth, yet clearly mature and collected where it counted. He doted on his cousins, who clearly thought the world of him, and acted as their benevolent leader. He was respectful to Tobi as the adult in the room, but he spoke in ways that Tobi could understand and never made him feel stupid. He seemed to have decided that Tobi was lonely, that he needed a friend, and that Shisui was just the right person for the job.

In short: confidence grift. But what the hell did he want? Tobi was the most useless person in the village, thank-you-very-much. He contributed nothing to society and society wanted nothing to do with him. All he did was sit in his house or wander the village. The list of people who interacted with him was Gai and a small but mysteriously growing hoard of sympathetic old women. Itachi clearly had no idea why they kept on playing with Tobi, so it couldn’t be for his sake. Same with Sasuke. Shisui must want something, something he kept secret. But what? 

It had to be a clan politics thing. Ugh. None of Tobi’s fucking business. The Uchiha were a lot of talk and they always will be. Last Tobi heard, they were muttering about secession again. They literally never stopped. If Shisui was taking that kind of talk seriously - well, he was welcome to his stress. 

The third time they met, they were caught.

Tobi registered the presence before Itachi did. Afterwards, Tobi found that a little strange. Itachi was viewed as the ‘greater genius’, and he was obviously at hyper-alert every second of every day. Even in his own clan compound. Maybe especially in his own clan compound. Especially since he was looking after Sasuke. Tobi was a has-been, but he still picked up on Mikoto’s presence first. Maybe Itachi’s mother slipped underneath his radar, but Shisui didn’t notice until after Itachi did. Couldn’t they feel her step on the grass?

 Well, couldn’t show it. Tobi laughed and left a gigantic opening in their ‘taijutsu match’, letting Sasuke tackle him around his waist. Tobi carefully fell backwards, pinwheeling his arms and yelling, and struggled in vain to fight off the yowling Sasuke trying to pin him to the ground with his bird-like limbs. 

“I win!” Sasuke yelled, “I win, I win! Aniki, did you see me win!”

Tobi faked a growl. “It’s not over yet, Sasuke! Secret technique: Flappy no jutsu!” He grabbed Sasuke by the waist and hoisted him high in the air, making him squeal in delight. “You’ve been turned into…a bird!”

“No!” Sasuke wriggled happily, flapping his arms as Tobi began waving him back and forth in the air. “No, I’m not a bird -”

“If you’re not a bird, why are you flying!”

“Lemme go, lemme - Mama!”

From outside of Tobi’s field of vision, he heard Itachi’s voice say, “Mother. Hello.”

“Mikoto-baasan!” Shisui said cheerfully. “What’s…up?”

Quietly, Mikoto said, “Sasuke, please get down.”

Sasuke obediently wriggled, and Tobi slowly put Sasuke back down onto the ground. He scrambled upwards himself, tunic and wrapped pants smeared with dirt and grass stations, and twisted around to blink owlishly at the woman standing on the other end of his fence. 

Mikoto looked the same as ever. Same hideously fancy kimono - jeez, Tobi remembered when she wore mesh shirts and leggings constantly because she couldn’t be bothered to change out of her mission uniform. Standing ramrod straight and perfectly elegant. As always, there was steel in her countenance. The woman knew which way to bend, but as a result she was unbreakable. But she didn’t look at Tobi like she was about to bend now. She actually didn’t seem very happy at all.

Kids were highly sensitive to that sort of thing. Sasuke scrambled towards her, running as fast as he could to the fence. He tried hopping over it and failed miserably, curling his fingers on the edge of the fencepost. He blinked up at Mikoto, who was not looking at him. 

Tobi…broke out into a great big smile, pumping his arm in an excited wave. “Mikoto-nee! Hi-hi! Are you playing with us?”

Sasuke twisted around, boggling at Tobi. “Tobi knows Mama?”

“Duh! She’s my sister’s best friend, Kushina Uzumaki!”

Sasuke had never looked so horrified in his entire life. Mikoto’s lips thinned. “Tobi’s not an Uchiha?!”

Shisui raised a finger, omnipresent smile lingering stubbornly on his face. “Ah, Sasuke-chan, Tobi-san lived with some friends of his before they - Tobi-san is an Uchiha for sure. He just lived with Uzumaki-san and her partner for a while.” Sasuke squinted dubiously at him. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s good to see you again, Tobi,” Mikoto lied through her teeth, bowing slightly. Tobi tilted his head. “But Itachi and Sasuke have to go home now. Boys, let’s go.”

But Shisui just sauntered forward, hands in his pockets. “Why do they have to go?” Shisui drawled. “You said they could play in the compound for two and a half more hours. What’s the rush?”

Calmly, Mikoto said, “Their father wants them home.” 

Sasuke’s head swiveled, turning the power of his dubious looks upon his mother. “Father told us to play outside ‘cause he has a meeting all day…”

Itachi stood up, awkwardly brushing himself off. Shisui had finally managed to wheedle him into serving as referee for the ‘taijutsu match’, and Tobi had guaranteed that he was a casualty of Sasuke’s assault. “Don’t question Mother, Sasuke. Let’s say goodbye to Tobi-san and Shisui.”

“But Aniki…” Sasuke turned big cow eyes on Shisui, who he could rely upon to contradict Itachi and guarantee a little extra fun each day. “Why are we going?”

“Yeah, Mikoto-baachan.” Shisui crossed his arms, planting himself like a tree. Itachi hovered near his elbow, nervous. Did the kid know that he practically clung to every ‘safe’ person in every vicinity? “Why are they going?”

Mikoto didn’t seem particularly surprised by this. Despite the insubordination towards the highly outranking person, she wasn’t angry. She just seemed solid, steady, and sad. “We can discuss this at home.”

“No, say it here.” Shisui pointed at Tobi, who just adopted a baffled face. “Say it in front of him.”

Mikoto’s expression creased. “Shisui.”

As with any Uchiha, the single world was weighty with meaning. Shisui ignored all of it. He turned to Tobi instead, firm and implacable. “Do you know why Mikoto-nee doesn’t want her kids playing with you, Tobi-san?”

“Um…but…” Tobi adopted a distressed look. “Tobi thought Itachi-chan and Sasuke-chan’s dad wanted them home…?”

A hair louder than usual - about as much emotion at Itachi ever showed - he said, “We’ll go.”

At almost the same time, Mikoto said, “Do not bring him into this, Shisui.”

“Bring him into something that’s about him? Say to his face what we all say behind his back? If I’m embarrassing you, then you should be embarrassed.” Shisui turned to Tobi, folding his arms. “Sorry, Tobi. I guess the jig’s up. We were caught visiting you. Frankly, it seems that the Uchiha gossip network’s losing their touch. I can’t believe that it took three visits before we were caught.”

Caught? Oh, this was hilarious. Pity he couldn’t laugh. Shisui really had been smuggling the three of them over here. Itachi and Sasuke had been banned from even looking at Tobi’s mangled face. How funny. How typical. 

“Caught?” Itachi’s eyebrow creased subtly. Oh, this was too good. Itachi hadn’t even known that this would get him in trouble? Of course he didn’t. Itachi never broke a rule. “You said that people didn’t like to - you didn’t say that we couldn’t.” 

Shisui smiled again, openly mocking and more than a little bitter. “Who cares if I do it? You’re the one who’s not allowed to do it. Why do you think that is, ‘Tachi?”

“Shisui, I don’t -”

Sharply, Mikoto said, “Shisui, don’t you -”

“They don’t want you to know who they’re making you into. They’re afraid that you’ll see your future in that face.” Shisui turned and faced Tobi completely, forcing his words onto his shoulders. “Heavens forbid you learn what’ll happen to you after you’re pushed too far.”

Everybody was looking at Tobi - everybody but Sasuke, who was confusedly staring up at his mother. Nobody was making any facial expressions, but Tobi knew these people. Mikoto’s body was tight and tense and deeply sad. Shisui stood like he was on the attack. And Itachi…

He understood what Shisui was saying. He already knew. Shisui hadn’t needed to say it at all - or he wasn’t saying it for Itachi’s benefit. Itachi just seemed resigned. 

Meanwhile, Tobi just rounded on Shisui. He looked around, clearly registering the tangible tension and everybody’s clear distress. Kids were sensitive to this sort of thing. “Shisui-kun! Don’t say things that make Mikoto-nee so sad! You should apologize, right now!”

Shisui raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Why did it make her sad?”

“Because - um…” Tobi floundered a little, looking back at the silent Mikoto and Itachi. “Because you said Itachi-chan’s gonna get hurt like me, and - and he’s not! You can’t know if that sort of thing will happen!”

“Hurt?” Sasuke asked, voice cracking. He was getting upset too, reacting to everybody else’s emotions. “What does ‘hurt like me’ mean?”

Immediately, Itachi said, “Nothing’s going to happen, Sas -”

“Tobi was kidnapped by enemy ninja at the end of the last war,” Mikoto said crisply. She put her hand on the top of Sasuke’s head, but she locked eye contact with Shisui. “They hurt him very badly, Sasuke. He had to retire as a ninja because of his injuries. That is what happened to Tobi.”

And, as always, Itachi backed up his mother immediately. Before Shisui could get a word in edgewise, Itachi told Sasuke, “Remember when I told you that Tobi-san is an adult, but he doesn’t understand the world like an adult does, or do things the way adults do? That’s because the enemy ninja hurt his brain. But that was during the war, and that’ll never happen to me.” 

Sasuke’s brow furrowed deeply. “People’s brains only get hurt during wars?” 

“Let’s go, Sasuke,” Mikoto said. 

But Sasuke dug his heels in, and even when Itachi walked over towards him and put his hand on his shoulder he didn’t move. “You let me play with Cousin Daisuke who only has one arm. Nobody said Aniki’s going to grow up and have only one arm! Why is this different?”

“There’s many different types of wounds, Sasuke,” Itachi said quietly. “Leave it alone.”

“Yeah,” Shisui said, “and not all of them are obtained in war, either.”

Itachi stared down Shisui, and Shisui met his eyes with equal weight. They were Uchiha, Sharingan masters, and eye contact between them was heavy. They were almost brothers to each other, and they looked two seconds away from a genuine fight. Sasuke was at Itachi’s elbow. Watching them fighting here, fighting over…over…

“Why are we fighting?” Tobi cried, fingers tangling in his curly hair. “Are we fighting ‘cause of me?”

Itachi startled, turning to face Tobi as his eyes widened a fraction. “No. It’s - I’m sorry, Tobi, it’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault,” Tobi tugged at his hair, hunching his shoulders. “Tobi’s sorry that he made Itachi-chan and Mikoto-nee mad!”

Mikoto glared hard at Shisui, who blinked. He probably had never seen her make that expression. “Do you see why I wanted to have this conversation in private, Shisui? Who have you helped here?”

Itachi reached a hand out towards Tobi, with an unexpected expression on his face - truly distressed. “I’m not mad. Please don’t pull your hair.”

But Shisui just crossed his arms, unrepentant. “Hey, you’re the one who started this. I’m sick of letting everything go just to keep the peace.”

“Isn’t minimizing conflict more important than the truth?” Itachi snapped. 

Wow. That was more vocal inflection than he’d ever heard from the kid. Tobi helped the kid out and made a miserable noise.

Surprisingly, it was Sasuke who leapt into action. He reached up on his tip-toes and very lightly smacked his mother on the arm. Then he turned around and smacked Itachi on the elbow, much harder. Both of his family members just stared at him, shocked. Then he ran back towards Shisui and smacked him on the stomach, far more ferociously than he had whapped the other two. A clear hierarchy.

“Whatever happened to being nice to Tobi! Aniki, you said Mama and Father fought in their bedroom because I hate it and I’m six. Tobi hates it too and he’s not like the adults, so why aren’t you and Shisui fighting in your bedrooms?” Sasuke propped his hand on his hip, outright wagging his finger at Mikoto. She looked appalled. “Mama, I will talk to you in my bedroom!”

Tobi felt his fingers drop from his hair, mostly from surprise. The others were also staring at Sasuke in surprise. Sasuke huffed and sidled closer to Tobi, pointedly taking his side. He reached out and grabbed Tobi’s calloused and worn hand in one miniature fist, squeezing it with a feather-light touch. 

Sasuke stared up at him with wide and utterly harmless eyes. “I get scared when Mama and Father fight, and Aniki says that’s okay. If it’s okay for me then it’s okay for you too. Probably. Um.” Sasuke glared at Itachi, who blanched. “Aniki, say it’s okay for Tobi to be scared.” 

Automatically, Itachi said, “It’s okay for Tobi to be scared.” More hesitantly, he added, “You didn’t need to be scared. I wouldn’t get mad at you.”

And Tobi grinned, all unhappiness forgotten.  How could it not be? Itachi Uchiha said that there was nothing to worry about, and Itachi Uchiha was the god of a six year old. His word moved mountains and shook the heavens. “Tobi couldn’t be scared of Itachi-chan, no way!” 

“You should be scared of him,” Sasuke informed Tobi. “Aniki’s a badass who can chop up five hundred people in five seconds. If he wanted you dead, it’d be like - bam! You’re already dead.” Itachi flinched. Mikoto gave Sasuke an extremely pointed look, and Sasuke’s eyes widened. “Oh. Um. Mama can talk to me in the bedroom too.”

“Maybe we should all talk.” Shisui sounded a little more solemn, a little less sure of himself. But when he glanced at Tobi, his eyes were as bright and clear as ever. “Do you mind if we all come back later, Tobi?”

Tobi’s grin broadened, and he waved broadly with his free hand. “Okay! But only if you promise to come back again!”

“I promise!” Sasuke said loudly, on everyone’s behalf. What a bossy kid. 

Cute, though. Awfully cute. Tobi even kind of liked him. When’s the last time he felt a single positive emotion about a member of his clan? Even the innocent, blameless sort just evoked feelings of pity and anger in him. But looking at Sasuke now, bubbly little face so firm and dedicated, Tobi could only feel the faint stirrings of fondness. He was a good kid. Not like the rest of them.

It didn’t matter. At his age, Tobi had two B-rank missions under his belt. He’d killed - some quantity of people, Minato had always hid his own mission reports. Innocence just meant that the shit hadn’t happened yet. Give it ten years and Sasuke would end up just like the rest of his misbegotten family. There was nothing Tobi could do to change that.

He had tried. For Itachi’s sake, he had tried. He had never mentioned it, and maybe he didn’t remember, but Tobi had visited him pretty often when the kid was much younger. Unannounced and uninvited. Tobi usually only got away with a few minutes, but he made the minutes count. Mostly through relentlessly bullying Fugaku and Mikoto. 

“Itachi-chan’s so cute!” Tobi had squealed, balancing on a pole on the exclusive main branch family training yard. It was sealed for privacy. Nobody knew how he had gotten inside. “Tobi remembers learning the same jutsu when he was that age! Is Itachi-chan in wetworks too?”

Tobi would knock on the door, asking for Itachi when he knew full well that the boy was on a mission. “Itachi-chan’s on another mission?” Tobi would ask, faux surprised. “Itachi-chan works so hard! Is Itachi-chan going to beat Tobi’s record for most missions at that age? There’s not really a prize…”

Shisui thought he was clever. He was beating his head against a brick wall. Tobi had tried to do exactly what he was doing. Many clan members had done what he was doing, if far more politely and stiffly. 

It was no secret that Fugaku wanted Itachi to surpass Obito Uchiha. In some ways, he would: Obito hadn’t had the opportunity to become ANBU. In other ways, it was straight-up blatantly impossible. The petition to allow a young ninja to skip the Academy and test directly into genin just didn’t exist in peace time. Maybe Itachi had the record for youngest graduation, but Obito had skipped it. The number of missions, the number of kills, the number of B and A ranks: Itachi couldn’t catch up. And it fucking killed Fugaku. 

And Obito’s Sharingan was the best. Everybody knew it. It was still the best, although nobody knew that. No amount of pushing Itachi would change reality. 

But maybe it was necessary. Maybe Itachi would have to surpass Obito. Because if he didn’t surpass Obito then he would become Obito, and that was the silent and loudest fear of the clan. 

The fear that only Shisui Uchiha had ever vocalized in front of Tobi. Only he had ever looked at Tobi as he said it. He had even winked at Tobi as he left. What sort of confidence grift involved saying the cruelest thing in front of the most fragile person? 

When Shisui Uchiha returned, he returned alone. He knocked on Tobi’s door late at night, hoisting a large bottle of sake in the air and smiling brightly. Tobi was mildly surprised. All things considered, you could roughly equivocate that to shock. 

“Shisui-kun?” Tobi craned his head, looking over Shisui’s shoulder. All he saw were cicadas grinding their gears in the thick night. “Where’s Itachi-chan and Sasuke-chan?”

“Just me this time.” Shisui held out the sake bottle, grin widening. “May I come in?”

“Um…” Tobi leaned away a little, nose wrinkling. “Booze smells bad…”

“More for me, then!”

Somehow, Tobi found himself sitting at his kotatsu as Shisui surveyed his house with undisguised interest. It was as messy and dirty as he probably expected, since Tobi really couldn’t work up the fucks necessary to keep it clean. The occasional grandmother always insisted on cleaning the whole thing top to bottom, so it never got too filthy. The fridge was full of food. Obito hadn’t seen the point in cooking, so Tobi enjoyed it well enough. It could be time intensive, but he had more than enough time on his hands. He gave a lot of it away to the grandmothers or injured ninja or new mothers anyway. 

Shisui shamelessly poked his head into the back rooms. He’d find Tobi’s childhood bedroom cluttered with shelves of puzzles and games - Gai was always giving them to him - and a master bedroom full of boxes and giant racks of scrolls. Shisui had given him a curious look. 

“Sensei and Kushina-nee left their stuff to me.” As well as their money, which was mostly locked up in a trust and dispensed to Tobi in an allowance. “I’m holding it for Naruto.” Shisui flinched. Tobi pretended he didn’t notice. “A lot of it is in storage, but I keep some of it here ‘cause it gets lonely by itself.”

Left unsaid: as Naruto was undoubtedly fucking lonely by himself. The kid’s ANBU guard wouldn’t even let him into the orphanage, so Tobi was forced to wait however long before he left. Hopefully by the time he was a genin he would be old enough to receive his family’s possessions and every story associated. 

Shiui stuck his head inside a particularly heavy box, prodding the textbooks with one finger. “The Fourth knew medical ninjutsu?”

“Rin-chan left me her ninja gear. Said her parents wouldn’t want anything like it.” Tobi twirled a strand of hair around his finger, looking up at the ceiling. “Kakashi-kun left the Hatake stuff to Sensei, so that’s mine now too. I have to hire genin to clean out the house sometimes…”

Shisui almost fell into the box. He stepped back out into the hallway, apparently shocked. “You own the Hatake clan compounds?”

“Who else would?” Tobi shrugged, unbothered. “The house is probably really lonely, but Kakashi-kun wanted it that way. Tobi wants to give it to Naruto when he grows up.” 

“You must care about the ki - Naruto a lot.” Shisui stepped back into the main room, moving towards the windows and glancing out from behind the drawn curtains. “You seem like a kind person, Tobi.”

Tobi just shrugged again. “It’s not Tobi’s things, so…”

“But you care about the things. You want them to be with somebody who would love them.” Shisui rattled the last window a little bit, satisfied, before moving back towards Tobi and sitting down across from him. “Your sensei’s scrolls look really cool. Can you read them?” Tobi stuck out his tongue and shook his head. “Aw, I wonder if they’re bored. Would it be alright if I read a few of them? They seem really cool to me!”

Whatever. Wasn’t as if Minato had any clan secrets. He had secret techniques, but Tobi had stuck those in a sealing scroll in the hollow of a tree. Impossible to access if you didn’t have an eye that turned you into a ghost. “Okay! Shisui’s my friend, he can read them for sure!”

“I’m glad we’re friends, Tobi,” Shisui said earnestly. He poured them both bowls of sake, holding one out to Tobi. “I’m always hanging out and having drinks with my friends, so I thought it’d be fun to do it with you too. This sake’s really nice and sweet, do you want to have a drink with me?”

Was this kid seriously trying to get him drunk? The absolute lack of ethics was pretty impressive. He knew he didn’t even have to be subtle about it, so he was acting completely shamelessly. But his phrasing was precise: Tobi always wanted to make friends and to be treated like anybody else, so he would accept the drink. 

Tobi would have one or two, and if Shisui kept pressing then he’d use a jutsu to metabolize the rest. Then he’d snitch to Itachi. So Tobi cautiously took the sake bowl, sniffing it dubiously, but when Shisui knocked it back Tobi copied him. 

“You were telling me about your favorite television shows earlier, right?” Shisui said, replacing his bowl on the table. His posture was absolutely open and friendly, and his words were easy-going but gentle. “Mega Warriors? What’s happening in the new season?”

“The Village Hidden In The Cave exploded!” Tobi cried heatedly. “It was awesome!”

Honestly speaking, Tobi genuinely loved that show. It killed higher brain functions. Good, clean action fun. He had developed a real taste for television and movies - stuff he never watched as a kid, stuff he barely knew existed. Maybe he watched a bit too much television, but that was the infinite joys of retirement. At least he didn’t sit on his front porch chewing tobacco leaves like every other retired ninja.

Shisui did a great job faking interest. Tobi had to assume it was fake: he had no tells, but no teenager would actually give a shit about a children’s television show. Eventually even Tobi was forced to take pity on the man and switch subjects. It said a lot that Tobi purposefully chose to stop being annoying, boring, stupid, or grating on somebody’s nerves. Fuck, maybe they were friends.

“Um, Shisui-kun?” Tobi swirled his bowl of sake absently. Shisui had refilled his bowl twice, but any more than two might be trouble. Kid really was trying to get him drunk. If he was so dead-set to lower Tobi’s defenses, then Tobi could counter-attack. “Why did you say those things to Mikoto-nee the other day?”

Shisui seemed surprised at the topic change from kid’s shows, but he sobered quickly. He leaned forward, gesturing at Tobi with his own sake bowl. “Because nobody was standing up for you. Nobody ever stands up for you, even when you need it. I wanted to let you know that I was on your side.”

Even Tobi wouldn’t buy this. He looked at Shisui a little skeptically. “Shisui-kun can be nice without being naughty and causing trouble.”

Shisui’s smile was rakish and sharp. “Sometimes a little trouble is what’s best for everybody. Loving somebody doesn’t mean always being nice to them. It means doing what’s best for them. You get that, right?”

“Um…maybe.” Tobi placed the sake bowl on the table, looking away a little awkwardly. “Sensei and Kushina-nee were nice too, though…”

“You think they did what was best for you?” Shisui asked quietly, and Tobi eagerly nodded. His expression softened. “I’m glad. I’m glad that people who loved you were nice and looked out for you. I’m getting worse and worse at the former, but Itachi says I’m not bad at the latter. Thank you for being patient with me.”

“It’s okay! Shisui-kun’s family.” Tobi hated his family more than he hated this village, which said a lot, but that wasn’t the right look. “Tobi thinks Shisui-kun’s really nice, so don’t say bad things about yourself.”

“Thank you, Tobi. We’re family, huh?” Shisui leaned in, dull eyes glinting in the soft lantern light. “Does that mean you trust me?” 

He’d gotten to the point, then. Either Shisui decided it was the right time to make his move, or he decided that he couldn’t afford to wait any longer. If this was Tobi’s op he would have stretched it out for way longer, but he didn’t know what kind of time limit Shisui was working under. And Tobi had the habit of playing the long game, anyway.

Tobi bobbed his head in an enthusiastic nod, brimming with puppy-like sincerity. “Yeah! We’re family, and Shisui-kun is nice!”

With an odd and sideways sincerity, Shisui said, “Thank you for the trust.” He fell silent for a second, drumming his fingers on the table, before finally speaking again. “I hope you don’t mind, but I put some seals on the windowsills. We’re completely in private right now. Nobody can hear or see us.” 

Tobi squinted at him, confused. Maybe he was a bit confused - his alcohol tolerance must have taken a hit over the years. He felt a bit too fuzzy and light for two bowls of sake. “Why did Shisui-kun do that…?”

“So you know that you’re safe,” Shisui said earnestly. He leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. “It’s just you and me, alright? I want you to know that nobody will ever know what we tell each other right now. I’m pretty good at keeping a secret. So is it okay if I ask you to tell me a secret right now?”

How far should Tobi let Shisui take this? He was making his move, and Tobi was admittedly deathly curious to know what he wanted. To know if he needed to deflect anything, and what he needed to deflect. If Shisui was onto him.

He couldn’t be onto him. The idea of him faking it hadn’t even crossed a single Uchiha mind. But Itachi and Shisui’s words echoed loud and clear in Tobi’s mind: that there were many different types of wounds, and many of them hadn’t occurred during war. Tobi would be unsurprised if Shisui had some idea that the damage was psychological instead of neurological. Genma, Kurenai, and Sarutobi had believed the same. Which was close to being onto him, but still very far from actually being onto him.

Focus, focus. It was more difficult than it should have been: the alcohol had hit him strangely hard, leaving him fuzzy and out-of-sorts, and -

The kid had drugged him. Son of a fucking bitch. Letting himself be drugged, fucking amateur hour up in here. He wasn’t up to date on his drug and toxin immunity conditioning. How could he not check the sake for drugs? He knew that the kid was running a grift on him, he should have been more careful. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What was the specific kind of drug? Fuck, he couldn’t remember. It was definitely a sedative, maybe even a tranquilizer. Why would he use this specific type? Increase physical vulnerability - no point in that, Tobi wasn’t much of a combatant. Induce relaxation and calmness - maybe, if he was trying to avoid a meltdown. Make him more suggestible - that was certain. That had to be it.

So Tobi relaxed, letting his gaze soften and muscles untense. A hair slowly, he said, “I guess, if Shisui’s asking.” 

Shisui’s eyes were dark and dull, and the lines under his eyes were almost as thick as Itachi’s. There was something deep and weighty in them, the Sharingan’s power palpable even when it was deactivated. You could grow lost in those eyes. Or suffocated by them. 

“Will you show me your Sharingan?” 

That was it. That was what Shisui had been after all this time. What the fuck else was anybody ever after. Tobi would give him the same answer he gave everybody. He shook his head and frowned. “Tobi can’t use the Sharingan anymore. Everybody knows that, Shisui.”

“If I walk you through the process, do you think you’ll be able to do it?” Shisui asked. “Do you need help molding the chakra? I can -”

“Tobi can’t do it,” Tobi said firmly. He’d had this conversation again and again and again. “Tobi hasn’t been able to do it for a very, very long time! Tobi’s tried! Tobi’s very sorry, but he can’t help Shisui-kun.”

“Were you awake when they took out your eye, Tobi?”

A hand pressed against the eyepatch, and Tobi realized too late it was his own. He couldn’t say anything. He should have a meltdown and chase off Shisui. But he had the feeling that Shisui couldn’t be chased away so easily. 

“It must have been really scary,” Shisui said. Voice lilting, eyes dark. Almost hypnotic. “I know the Sharingan’s really scary too. But I need to see your Sharingan, Tobi. It’s really important. Won’t you show it to me?” 

Tobi shook his head. He turned away, fully hiding his face. “No. Tobi can’t.”

“I think you’re capable of using it. I think the Sharingan’s very scary, and you don’t want to. But I think you can do it. Tobi, please.” Shisui leaned forward, heavy gaze pinning Tobi in place. “You have no idea how important this is. Please just show me your Sharingan.”

Tobi buried his face in his arms, squeezing his eye shut and separating himself from Shisui as thoroughly as he could without moving an inch. “No! Leave me alone, I can’t do it!”

“Look at me. Look at me, Tobi, please. Does your Sharingan look something like this?”

And, despite himself, Tobi looked. 

Shisui’s eyes were blood red, and his pupils were spinning lazily. It kind of reminded Tobi of a shuriken, circular but sharp and ready to cut. It was fatter and softer than Tobi’s own, but it was similar enough that it was unmistakable.

Shisui Uchiha had the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Interesting. Tobi had thought he was the only one to unlock it since the Founder’s Era. That was what the scrolls seemed to imply, anyway. He had to do some serious digging and hunting and thieving before getting his hands on those top-secret scrolls, but it had been worth it. Anything was worth it, just to learn what the fuck had happened to him. 

Guilt. Tobi eventually surmised that only the most intense guilt could unlock the Mangekyo. Tobi wondered what had made Shisui feel so guilty. Clearly it hadn’t stopped him from continuing to do morally dubious shit. After a guilt so intense and crushing, drugging his brain damaged cousin probably wouldn’t register on his radar.

“Your eye’s weird,” Tobi cried, horrified. “What did you do to your eye?”

But Shisui ignored him. “Is your eye weird too?”

“I can’t see my eye! My eye is gone!” Tobi raised his voice, injecting more and more hysteria into his voice. It wasn’t hard - he was just channeling the panic he was already feeling. Such was the essence of Tobi: the self who felt Obito’s emotions for him. “Are you jealous of my normal eye ‘cause yours is weird? Tobi’s sorry, but that’s not Tobi’s fault! I can’t help you!”

Shisui’s lips thinned, and for the first time he began to look resigned. “You can’t help me, or you don’t want to? Which is it?”

“I really can’t. I’m sorry, Shisui-kun, but I really can’t.” Tobi sniffled, expression contorted in distress and regret. “Don’t you know I want to? It made everyone so sad when I couldn’t. I really would if I could. I just can’t…”

“It’s okay,” Shisui said. He put his hands in his lap, obscuring them from view. “Let me help you. It’s not a good idea to do as much as I can right now, but I can at least do this much.”

“What are you -”

Tobi fell wide awake.

*

Tobi stood in training ground seven.

The sun was bright and hot, but the gentle breeze softened the blow. There was a distant rush of a stream, underlied by the constant cacophony of a hidden village, but their little forest always felt so still and peaceful. He was standing in the small clearing in the center of the training ground, encircled by trees softly pushed by the wind. Their leaves were crisp and orange - red, purple, brown.

Kakashi stood across from Tobi. Just a kid, slouching in his jumpsuit with his hands crammed in his pockets. He blinked lazily at Tobi. Tobi had forgotten that he never brushed his hair. 

“Are you ready to start?”

Tobi blinked at Kakashi, lost. Why was he lost? He was in the training grounds. He looked down at himself and saw the outfit he used to wear. It was all blacks and grays. He had never lost the taste for those colors. “Bakashi…?”

“That’s me, apparently.” Kakashi yawned - which normally severely pissed Tobi off. Take this seriously, Bakashi! “You always work up Rin when you say that.”

“Rin?” Tobi looked around the grounds, suddenly filled with a bizarre desperation. “Where’s Rin?”

“She’s buying bento lunches for us with Sensei. If I don’t pretend to work he’s going to scold me again, so can we just get started?”

“Yeah…sure.” Tobi awkwardly arranged himself into a ready position. It was difficult to position his body correctly. It was as if he’d forgotten how to do it all, and was relying entirely on muscle memory. “Bakashi wants to practice taijutsu, right?”

“I never wanna practice at all, but sure.” Kakashi straightened, cracking his neck and meeting Tobi’s eyes dead on. There was something arresting and heavy about that gaze. “But you have to make it a challenge for me. Fight me using your Sharingan.”

Using his what? “That’s way more work than Bakashi likes.”

“I want to learn how to protect you. That means I have to get stronger.” Kakashi oriented himself into his own ready stance. It was - “Help me get stronger. Fight me with your Sharingan.”

Tobi shook his head, stepping backwards. His body fell out of its ready stance. His body didn’t want to fight. It was just so sick of it. “It was Tobi’s job to protect Kakashi. Tobi was the strongest, so Tobi should have done it. Kakashi feeling like he failed would make Tobi really sad.”

“Don’t worry about it, Obito. You aren’t a failure. Prove it to me, Obito - let’s train.” 

“But I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Kakashi said. “I have faith in you, Obito. I know your strength is within you somewhere. Let’s draw out that strength together, Obito. To protect our precious people.”

That did it. Like stabbing yourself with a kunai or shocking yourself with electricity, that snapped him out of the genjutsu’s hold over his mind. 

Tobi didn’t let you call him Obito. It infuriated him, in that special Tobi way. It wasn’t normally a problem: everybody had adapted remarkably quickly to his new name. But maybe that wasn’t such a surprise. It was very difficult to look at Tobi and see Obito. Nobody liked remembering who he once was. And nobody called him that unless they thought that they would be the lucky winners who achieved the miracle and brought Konoha’s greatest soldier out of retirement. Tobi only heard the name Obito when they wanted something out of him. Something that he couldn’t give. Could you blame him for hating the name?

“Stop calling me that!” Tobi screeched. He bent over double, clutching his head and curling in on himself. “Bakashi wouldn’t call me that! Bakashi loves me! This is made up!”

Insanely casually - so casually that Tobi knew he was making a rapidfire series of hand seals - Kakashi said, “No it’s not. You’re in training ground seven. Kakashi’s standing here with you. You want to turn on your Sharingan.”

“You’re lying! Liar, liar, liar!” Tobi pressed his hands over both eyes. Another hit from the Mangeyko might actually do him in. “Get me out of here, Shisui!”

Amazingly, Kakashi - Shisui, it was Shisui, Kakashi was dead dead dead - just sounded a little baffled. “You shouldn’t have seen through this. My Sharingan’s genjutsus are infallible. How the hell did you -” Shisui gasped, tripping over his own words. “You don’t need to turn on the Sharingan to have the resistance. The only eye that could match up to mine is - I knew it.”

Normally it was very easy to escape a genjutsu once you figured out the game. ‘Kai’ was a simple tool - the chakra equivalent of turning the television on and off again - but it was universally effective. Even the most complex genjutsus relied on the same fundamental physiological principles of the simplest genjutsu, and Kai disrupted all of them easily. 

Tobi made the rat hand sign and shouted, “Kai!”. He opened his eyes and saw -

Kakashi’s face in front of him, only a hand’s width away. His eyes were blood red, spinning like a pinwheel, and the weight of his gaze was almost physical. Tobi locked eye contact with the spiked eyes and found himself unable to escape. His vision tunneled, then swirled, then -

*

Obito stood in training ground seven.

It was the same as ever. Team Minato’s little pocket of peace, where the cacophony of Konoha and the war was shut out of their world. It was hot enough that training would be a bit uncomfortable, but a real ninja always trained in all types of weather. Prepared for anything, that was Obito’s motto. 

Kakashi stood across from Obito. As always, he was slouching in that baggy jumpsuit, hands crammed in his pockets and blinking lazily at Obito. Did he ever brush his hair?

“Are you ready to start?”

“I’m the one who’s been waiting here for an hour!” Obito yelled. He wasn’t sure about that, but it sounded right. “You’re the one holding us up! As always!”

“Maa, sorry.” Kakashi scratched the back of his neck. His body tensed infinitesimally. “I can switch out with Rin, if you want?”

Rin stuck out her tongue. She was sitting on the sidelines with Sensei, relaxing on the soft grass. Her thumb was stuck in one of her omnipresent romance novels. Next to her, Sensei was frantically scribbling over a scroll. “Save me from Obito on the warpath! I’ll take him after you’ve softened him up, Kakashi!”

“Ah,” Kakashi drawled, “so I’m bait again.”

Rin winked cutely. “I prefer the term human sacrifice.”

“Don’t practice human sacrifice,” Sensei said vaguely, without looking up from his scrolls. “That’s…bad. I think.”

“How overdue are those forms, Sensei?” Rin asked. Sensei made a mournful sound. Rin sighed and grabbed a few from the teetering pile next to him, taking a pen from her pocket as she cracked open the scroll. “You do the fighting, boys, I’ll work on something more important.”

“You’re my favorite,” Sensei said feelingly. He still didn’t look up from the scroll. “You are the best student of all time. You’ll definitely become Hokage when you grow up.”

“You never call me your favorite,” Obito said, wounded.

“You’re also my favorite.” Kakashi slowly raised a hand. “Kakashi is my other favorite. You’re all equally the best. Does anybody else want to help me with this formwork?”

Immediately, Obito and Kakashi said in sync, “We’re busy training.” 

Minato’s pen flew across the scroll. “Lazybones, both of you.” Obito puffed himself up in indignation. “Joking! Start your match, you two. Whoever loses has to help me with my paperwork.” Oh, this had stakes now. Obito hated paperwork. Not that he told anybody that. “Don’t forget to use your Sharingan, Obito.”

Obito rolled his eye. He turned to Kakashi, sliding himself easily into a ready position. Across from him, Kakashi did the same. The guy only did work if you threatened him with more work. “Yeah, yeah. Not that I need the Sharingan to beat you, Bakashi.”

“You’ll need to master the Sharingan if you want to be my ANBU Commander,” Rin called out. “Don’t slack off now!”

“Why are you telling me not to slack off!” Obito cried, appalled. “Bakashi is right there -”

Kakashi raised his hand. “I’m just gonna be Rin-chan’s trophy husband.” 

Obito flushed. “That’s - that’s useless, you know that? Be a productive member of society! Why would you waste your life being somebody’s husband?”

For the first time, Sensei looked up. He had the most tragically wounded look on his face. “My life dream is to be a husband.”

Rin looked unimpressed. “You’re next in line for Hokage, Sensei.”

“I never said that was my dream.”

“Then give it to me.”

“Not until you’re eighteen, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” Kakashi drawled, “Konoha won’t survive Hokage Nohara. Give us a few more years to put our affairs in order.” 

“Are we going to train?” Obito cried, exasperated. “We’re wasting daylight! Stop joking around and focus!”

Kakashi gave Obito the fakest wounded look. “Joking around is my only joy in a dreary life, dobe.”

“Jokes are a waste of time.” Obito brought his fists up, activating his Sharingan on pure instinct. He could activate it quicker, more reflexively, more intuitively, than anybody else in his clan. “Now face me, Bakashi!”

The world swirled, then shattered.

Minato Namikaze and Rin Nohara disappeared on the tides of a spring wind. Before him, Kakashi Hatake’s image twisted away into nothingness. Only Shisui Uchiha stood behind him, hands held carefully in the rat seal, eyes swirling in a pinwheel.

When Obito met his eyes he startled and quickly jerked his eyes away, but he didn’t lose grasp of the illusion. It was no surprise that Shisui refused to meet his gaze: the heat of the Mangyeko burned behind Obito’s eyes. 

“Ah,” Shisui said weakly, “you can see me.”

“You absolute brat.”

Shisui’s eyebrows jumped upwards. “Excuse me?”

Obito stalked forward, and Shisui unconsciously leaned back. Obito was vaguely conscious that he must be releasing some killing intent. The Mangyeko’s corrosive power probably magnified that killing intent into a dangerous aura.

“What did you think would happen?” Obito snapped. “My eyes are more powerful than yours. Seeing through this shoddy genjutsu is child’s play. What are they teaching the Uchiha kids these days? If you’re the picture of a Uchiha genius then I hate to see a commonplace Konoha ninja.” 

Shisui froze, eyes widening. “Cousin Obito. It really is you…” Obito lifted an unimpressed eyebrow, and Shisui hurriedly bowed slightly. “I’m Shisui Uchiha. It’s good to see you again, Obito-san. I don’t know if you remember, but we met a few times when I was a kid -”

Obito flapped a hand, cutting off the suddenly polite child. “Yeah, your parents were always showing you off. They wanted me to take you as an apprentice once the war was over.” Shisui froze. Nobody had told him that. No surprise. “Obviously you must have made something great of yourself, since you’re wasting time casting industrial grade genjutsus on me. And drugging me. Thanks for that.”

“It was important!” Shisui cried. He stepped forward, but they both kept avoiding each other’s eyes. “I couldn’t explain to Tobi why it was important, otherwise I would have, I promise.” Yeah, sure. “Don’t give me that look. Do you think I liked doing this?”

“It’s cruel,” Obito said shortly, and Shisui flinched hard. For the first time, Obito wondered if Shisui had a fragile personality. “Go on, then. Tell me what’s so important that you had to somehow find me.”

Shisui took a deep breath. He set his shoulders straight, as if he was finally being brave, but in the end he looked away completely from Obito. “About five years ago, I was on a routine mission with my best friend. We just had the worst fight of our lives. I barely even remember what it was about, but I was so mad. I remember feeling this burning jealousy and panic…maybe it was because of his promotion over me or something. The clan had just begun putting a lot of pressure on me, and he made me feel like a failure. And the routine mission…went bad.” Shisui halted a second, heaving deep breaths, before speaking again. “I just remember thinking that he’s going to take my place as the Uchiha genius. I had that thought at the exact moment he needed me. And he died. Because of a fight over something I don’t even remember and jealousy over a position I never even wanted. I remember realizing this, the truth of my actions fully hitting me, and how I started crying blood. When I looked in a pool of water, I saw that my eyes had turned into this. Fugaku could only guess that the shock and trauma mutated my eyes into this strange form, but that never made sense to me.”

Wait, hold on. “‘Into its strange form’?” Obito asked harshly. “‘Shock and trauma?’. Why didn’t Fugaku tell you about the Mangekyo Sharingan?”’

Shisui stared blankly at the ground. “The what now?”

Holy fucking shit. “Nobody told you about your own fucking eye?” 

“You know?” Shisui cried, and for the first time he raised his eyes to meet Obito’s own eyes. For the first time, Obito saw the desperation in them. “You know what happened to me? Who told you? Does anybody else know?” 

Obito snorted. “Nobody told me. I found out the information for myself.” The ability to become a ghost was fantastic for entering secret vaults, and Madara had written half of ‘Clan Secrets’ in a script that only the Mangeyko could read. Obito knew more about this clan than its fucking hundred year olds. “You guessed what the activation criteria was, didn’t you? That’s why you sought me out. You wanted to see if the other genius Uchiha who murdered his friends scored the bonus too.”

“I was right!” Shisui clenched his fist, eyes spinning in a sick blur. “Our conversation right now confirms it! This thing happened to me because of what happened that day. You and I both failed to save our best friends. I just need to know what it is, how I can use it. I know it can do more than a powerful genjutsu every so often.”

And, because the kid had gone through such incredible amounts of effort for this moment - because he seemed to have reached a level of desperation that could only ever grow deeper and more rotten - Obito told him.

“Maybe Fugaku didn’t tell you because he thought you must have a different eye. Or maybe he thought you were lying to him. Fuck, maybe only the elders know this information anymore. The Uchiha clan believes that the Mangeyko Sharingan is only obtained through killing your best friend.” Shisui’s face turned pale, but Obito shook his head. “No. It’s activated when you watch the loss of the person you love. Personally, I think that it activates when you feel responsible for that loss. When the guilt murders you, when it breaks you, and when a new power rises to fill the void within you.”

Shisui looked away. “Lots of Uchiha have seen a loved one die. But…not that many get the person they loved killed, huh?”

“This information is kept under wraps so nobody goes around trying to kill their loved ones. It wouldn’t work, anyway. Nobody who kills the person they love the most for an eye could ever feel guilty about it.” A sword through a heart. A boulder through a chest. “The Mangekyo strengthens your natural Sharingan. It gives you the ability to summon Susanoo, our clan’s greatest and most ultimate weapon. And it has a technique unique to its wielder. Yours is related to a genjutsu, right?”

Shisui nodded eagerly. “I’ve never used it, but I can sense it. I think it can brainwash people. I sense that it has a long cool-down, but the brainwashing must be absolute. What’s Susanoo? How can I wield it?”

“Visit the sacred shrine in the woods behind the main house. Use your Mangeyeko to read the writing on the wall scroll, then follow its instructions.” Wait, that implied that Obito had discovered all of this after he had brain damage. “I found it while searching for forbidden techniques right before the war ended. These are our most dangerous secrets, Shisui. Tell no one.”

“An ultimate weapon,” Shisui said quietly. He was standing stock-still right in front of Obito, but something inside of him was tensing with excitement. “I bet it could turn the tides of a war. The peace that this weapon could bring…I could bring peace to the Uchiha and Konoha -”

No. Wait, kid, slow your roll. That wasn’t why Obito had fucking told you this.

“Are you joking?” Obito asked flatly. “The Mangeyko could start a war between the Uchiha and the rest of Konoha. Nobody can ever find out about this. You should never use this power.”

“But they’d see the value the Uchiha could bring!” Shisui protested. “The Hokage would know how powerful we are, what an asset we are to the village! If they just respected us -”

“They already think we released the Kyuubi,” Obito snarled, “how would showing off a brainwashing power remotely make them hate us less?”

“Then I’ll brainwash them too!” Shisui cried, and Obito stopped short. “I don’t care how long the cool-down is! I’ll just brainwash the Hokage, tell him to accept us back into the village, and - and wouldn’t that be the best way to fix this? It’s peaceful, easy, and it doesn't hurt anyone!”

Did this kid just fucking say that brainwashing somebody doesn’t hurt them? That explained so fucking much - and how much did that say. 

 Obito grabbed the kid’s collar, reeling him in and shaking him. He realized a little too late that the kid was shorter than him - that Obito’s hand was strong and large. He was an adult again. “Weapons cannot bring peace!” Obito snarled. “Harm does not cure hatred! Committing greater and greater atrocities will not achieve the impossible!”

“They’re not atrocities!” Shisui didn’t struggle in his grip. He just looked at Obito, bright and pleading. As if he truly did want Obito to understand. “And it’s not impossible! Restoring peace between the Uchiha and Konoha has to be possible. They’re depending on me to make it happen. Itachi’s depending on me to make it happen. I’ll do anything if it saves the people I love!”

“You’re a fool,” Obito said coldly. “An idealistic fool. In searching for a perfect solution, you’ll ruin everything. Compromises must be made. If you truly wish to save the people you love, then sacrifice the people you don’t. But there is one thing you must never sacrifice, Shisui.” 

Something in Shisui was so broken. Obito saw it in those red eyes now. “Obito-san…”

“Don’t lose who you are.” There was something aching and broken in Obito’s chest. It scratched his chest with a thousand micro-tears, ripping him open bit by bit from the inside. “Don’t sacrifice your integrity. Don’t parcel out parts of yourself to those who would consume them. Don’t you understand? Those who break the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash!” Obito faltered for the first time - not uncertain, but almost afraid. “You’re a good kid, Shisui. Don’t sacrifice who you are for the sake of people who will use you up and spit you out. You deserve better than that. I…deserved…”

He was no longer gripping Shisui’s collar. He was staring far into the distance, lost. The training ground was bright and cheerful, softened by memory and time, and his teammates were far away. They would never come back. There was no home to return to. 

A weight looped around his neck, a body pressed against his, and he realized too late that Shisui was hugging him. It was an awkward and strange weight. Obito couldn’t return the embrace. Holding him like this, forehead pressed against his chest, Shisui felt like nothing more than a scared fourteen year old. As scared and confused as Obito had once been, the day he made his awful choice.

��Do you want me to kill you?” Shisui muttered. “Everyone says that you’re better off dead than…”

Their family was so fucking insane. Shisui thought he was being nice right now. Obito just sighed and put his hand on top of Shisui’s head, indulging a moment of insanity and ruffling his hair. Only Tobi would have ever done that.

“A life is the most precious thing,” Obito said bluntly. “Our society treats people like they’re cheap, lives as if they’re expendable. They’re wrong. Life and living…no matter how difficult the circumstances, we must value life above all else.”

Shisui pulled away, rubbing at his spinning eyes. For the first time he truly seemed miserable. “I don’t care about sacrificing myself for my clan. My life isn’t more important than Mom’s or Dad’s or Itachi’s or Sasuke’s. But are their lives more important than the safety of Konoha? If Konoha’s not safe, they aren’t safe. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can’t please both the Uchiha and the village,” Obito said bluntly. “You’re trying to play both sides and avoid making a decision. Your efforts will topple like a house of cards. And those you tried to save will use you.” Obito put both hands on Shisui’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. He looked him dead in the eyes, hoping that his own gaze was still weighty enough to say what words couldn’t. “Don’t trust Danzo. He wants our eyes for himself. Don’t trust the clan elders. They just want power. Tell nobody about our eyes, Shisui. You must protect both of us. If you don’t, the consequences will be catastrophic.”

Shisui nodded, eyes wide. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Obito-san.”

Not the potential problem. If Obito got busted he’d probably just blow up half the compound and book it. Honestly, he should have already done that. He didn’t know why he was still around. Maybe it was just inertia. Maybe he didn’t want to fend for himself. Maybe he was weak - but there was no ‘maybe’ about that.

“Good. Listen to me now. Hopefully, after this we’ll never speak again.” If the kid tried to pull this a second time then his life was about to become markedly un-precious. “Persevere, Shisui-kun. Value your life. But do not accept evil, in others or in yourself. And remember…remember…” Obito smiled despite himself, shoulders falling. “Remember to have fun, alright? Treasure your one and only life.”

Shisui looked as if he was about to cry, which was assuredly the worst possible outcome of a conversation with a teenager. Obito’s words hadn't even been nice. Had this kid received no positive reinforcement at all? Would Tobi have to be nice to him? 

But Shisui just stepped backwards and bowed to Obito at the waist. The sight of a modicum of respect had grown depressingly novel. “I’m sorry that we’ll never meet again, Obito-san. I’ll study the Mangekyo and unlock its full power. I’ll protect you and Itachi and Sasuke. I promise.”

“Promise me that you’ll trust nobody,” Obito said sharply. Shisui straightened, but he only looked away again. “Live. Even at the expense of everything else. Now get us out of here, you have to be exhausting yourself.”

Shisui formed his fingers into the rat seal, hesitating briefly. “What should I tell Tobi?”

“It’s your life,” Obito said, “not mine.”

His vision tunneled, then faded away, and Obito woke up.

*

Tobi jerked himself awake.

What the fuck. What the fuck had that been? Tobi hadn’t known that he could be trapped in a genjutsu. And Shisui went through all of that effort for - what, chasing a hunch? World peace? A fourteen year old’s idea of problem solving, i.e. brainwashing as many people as possible? Shisui had built a genjutsu even Obito couldn’t escape from. He was wasting his life with that damn loyalty.

Yes - Obito hadn’t been able to escape the genjutsu. He had thought he had. Maybe he couldn’t leave physically, but he had reasoned his mind was intact and uninfluenced. Through the benefit of hindsight, Tobi could see what a delusion that had really been. 

Tobi did not drop the act. Ever. There should have been no ‘accessing the dead genius inside of the moron’. The moron was the genius, that was the point. The first wave hadn’t fooled him - Tobi had been together enough to keep the Tobi mask on, even in the face of such noxious nostalgia. But the second wave pulling him even deeper into his psyche had been too much. Shisui had peeled the mask away, giving him what he expected to see and giving Tobi what he never thought he’d see again. It hadn’t even occurred to him to lie. First he was drugged, then he was caught in a genjutsu…fucking amateur hour up in here. 

“Tobi? Are you alright?”

Rich fucking sentiments from this kid. But Tobi groaned anyway, realizing that his head was pillowed on his arms folded on the table. A light grip shook his shoulder, and he forced his aching head upwards to stare blearily at the faux-concerned Shisui. 

“I think I drank too much,” Tobi groaned. “I had a weird dream.”

Shisui’s face was stone, but that was no surprise. “What did you dream about?”

Tobi yawned widely, pushing away toppled bowls of sake. “That I was walking on a tightrope, and if I fell I’d die. One part of the ground was boiling water, and the other part was lots of fire. It was super scary. Then I fell and…I don’t know where I landed…”

If Shisui was surprised that he didn’t dream of the obvious thing, he didn’t show it. He just clasped Tobi’s elbow, gently helping him upwards. “Sounds scary. Let’s get you to bed, alright? Thanks for hanging out with me, I had fun.”

“Tobi’s happy that we had fun.” Tobi yawned widely, covering his mouth with both hands, but he slitted a sharp look at Shisui from the corner of his eye. Shisui always stood in Tobi’s field of vision. “Did Shisui-kun get what he wanted?”

Shisui froze. This was a risky move on Tobi’s part, but he knew that it would pay off. “What I wanted?”

“Tobi used to be a very good ninja,” Tobi said reproachfully. “Tobi can taste gross things in his drink.” Shisui jerked backwards, paling. “Did Shisui-kun get what he wanted?”

“I…” Shisui looked away, but Tobi watched as he forced himself to stare directly into Tobi’s eyes. Tobi wondered what he was searching for - the Mangekyo? Obito? Or if he only knew that Tobi wouldn’t register eye contact as a threat? “No. I got what I was looking for, but…not what I wanted. I’m sorry. I hurt you for no reason.” 

What had Shisui truly wanted? Maybe even he didn’t know. Maybe he had wanted somebody like him. Life as a genius was lonely. Maybe part of him, silly and irrational as he knew it was, hoped that his eye could ‘fix’ Tobi where everyone else had failed. Or maybe part of him had wanted an adult he could trust, and all he received was a man who hadn’t seen daylight for a long time. 

Tobi put a hand on Shisui’s head. He smiled down at him, bright and easy. “It’s okey-dokey, Shisui-kun! If you need help, just come to Tobi. Got it?”

“Got it,” Shisui said quietly. “Thank you.”

“No problem - wow, I’m dizzy!”

Shisui helped Tobi to bed, and he gratefully fell unconscious. It was the best night’s sleep he’d had in forever. Honestly? Made the whole thing worth it. 

The Sharingan etched what it saw into its bearer's mind forever. The Mangekyo’s power could make you feel as if you were still there - forever trapped within that moment.

Kakashi’s crushed body. Rin’s smile as Obito impaled her. Kushina’s lifeless body. And the rising tidal wave of corpses behind them: the dozens of ninjas Obito had killed in his life, the untold quantities of destruction and death he’d witnessed with his own eyes. Obito remembered the faces of every person he’d ever killed. It wasn’t a small number.

Tobi forgot. At some point, Tobi had become the only way to forget. He never used the Mangeyko Sharingan: not just afraid of its power, but incapable. 

He did not realize he had a whole-ass personal dimension until much, much later. This was what he got for running from his problems.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna be your sin

for @subeddieweek day five with the prompts rimming and possessive steve

rated e | 2,473 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr Day four: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

If being friends with Steve was easy, being loved by him was a piece of cake.

It would probably scare someone else, the way Steve loved. He gave everything, more than what Eddie felt he deserved. It was overwhelming at times, to be the focal point of all of Steve’s affection.

He showed up at Eddie’s house with flowers before their first date. And their second. And for their third, he brought him homemade cookies.

Fucking homemade cookies.

And every single time, he acted like it brightened his day to be able to provide these things to Eddie. Like if he couldn’t bring him flowers or cookies or kiss him or hold him, he’d crumble into a million pieces and cease to exist.

It was easy to love him back, too.

To play with his fingers in the car and lean his head on his shoulder, to get lost in the time they spent together until Wayne was opening the door to the trailer with his knowing smile and wave as Steve just waved back from his spot on the couch holding Eddie’s hand.

They weren’t stupid, though.

Their dates were usually places where two young guys could be caught hanging out without drawing suspicion, even if those two guys happened to be Eddie and Steve. If it wasn’t the diner or the bowling alley, or even the record store Steve had taken him to on their first date, they were in secret hiding spots around Hawkins, spending every moment they could giving in to temptation.

But sometimes they ventured outside their comfort zone.

Steve was Dustin’s chauffeur from Hellfire Club since his mom’s promotion that led her to working much later during the week.

They hadn’t exactly told anyone about what they were to each other, had barely even mentioned they were friends to anyone other than Robin, but Steve was insistent that no one would think anything if he just…hung out during Hellfire.

Eddie didn’t really have the heart to tell him that every single person in the room would be highly suspicious of anyone being allowed to stay and watch as Eddie had always been incredibly protective of their space and never let anyone watch who wasn’t inducted into Hellfire.

Steve sat in the corner of the room, only receiving a few concerned looks from the group at first. Most of the confusion was directed at Eddie.

When they took their usual five minute bathroom break, Gareth pulled him aside and questioned him.

“Dude. The hell.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Harrington? I know he’s Dustin’s second mom or whatever, but is it really necessary for him to be here? Doesn’t he have a job or something?” Gareth glanced over at Steve, who was looking back at both of them with a fire in his eyes.

Eddie ignored the way that look made him feel and crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow at Gareth.

“Isn’t the point of Hellfire to welcome the lost sheep? No judgment?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And wouldn’t you think it rude to assume Steve doesn’t deserve to have some friends?”

“But he-”

“Everything okay over here?” Steve’s voice was right next to Eddie’s ear, and his hand was on his hip, squeezing.

Eddie’s mouth snapped closed, eyes widening as he watched Gareth’s gaze drop to where Steve was touching him and back up to Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, man. Just checking in on our friend, here,” Gareth gave Steve a fake smile before turning and walking away.

Steve’s hand didn’t drop and Eddie was certain that if he didn’t move in the next 10 seconds, they’d have a lot of explaining to do that Steve probably wasn’t ready for.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked, his face a mask of friendliness.

“Gareth? My best friend for three years? He always bothers me, but it’s nothing like that.” Eddie tapped Steve’s hand as a reminder that he should probably move it, but he just tightened his grip. “Um, you okay?”

Steve’s breath was warm against his jaw as he leaned in close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “I’m great, sweet boy.”

The reaction was instant. And really fucking inconvenient.

Hearing those words from Steve now, when he still had an hour of a campaign to run, with children making their way back to the table, was enough to make him call it all off.

Fuck Hellfire. He needed Steve to fuck him.

Steve patted his ass twice before walking away, smiling to himself as he went back to his seat to watch Eddie deal with this sudden need to have Steve.

And then he just…carried on. Like it was nothing to have Steve’s hand on him one minute, his voice against his ear, and then go back to being the big, bad DM the next. He was a pretty good actor, but even he had his limits when Steve’s eyes were on him.

Even he could tell he was a little off after the break, and the knowing looks from Gareth and confused looks from the rest of them just emphasized how much he needed to get his shit together. This was his best campaign ever, and he knew he needed to roll into Christmas break with a cliffhanger that made everyone desperate to get back.

Steve watched the clock, then looked at Eddie, watching him fondly, but with a certain hunger in his eyes that was nowhere near appropriate for others to see.

“And as you crawl your way under the fence, mud and sweat coating your skin, you see a faint light coming towards you from a distance. Your entire group freezes and waits to see if you’ve been found. You breathe slowly, just enough to not pass out. The light gets closer.” Eddie stands from his chair, leaning over the table to blow out the candle. “The candle goes out. A voice yells down to you. ‘Come at once or die.’”

Eddie sits back in his chair and folds his hand across his stomach, waiting for the table to catch up that he was done.

“That can’t be it!” Lucas yelled.

“Eddie, you said you weren’t gonna end it on a cliffhanger!” Mike pouted.

“I never said such a thing and if I ever did, you should’ve known I was lying.” Eddie stood again, folding his DM notes up and picking up his personal minifigures to store in his bag. “We’ll pick up the first week back in the new year. Everyone go home and enjoy Christmas because there’s a chance some of you may perish on your journey here.”

Everyone grumbled except for Gareth, who was oddly quiet as they all cleaned up their own character sheets and minifigures. He kept glancing between Steve and Eddie, brows furrowed, like if he concentrated hard enough, something would make more sense to him.

Steve stood as the older kids filed out, driving themselves home or hitching rides with each other. Nancy was already outside waiting for Mike and Lucas, so they rushed out of the room, barely saying goodbye.

Dustin didn’t seem to notice or care that Steve and Eddie were staring at each other, that Eddie’s hands were practically shaking with anticipation for what was coming. Hopefully, he would be.

“Oh, mom told me to tell you that she made extra of that casserole you like so you can bring some back home with you when you drop me off,” he said as he finished packing up his bag.

“Sounds good, dude,” Steve said, not taking his eyes from Eddie.

Eddie could feel his face flushing, wondered how he could get Steve out of there before he did something stupid like kiss him in front of their shared child.

“You guys gonna kill each other or make out?” Dustin asked, not really looking at either of them, standing by the door to leave. “If you’re done, I have a curfew to make whether my mom’s home or not.”

Steve tossed Dustin his keys. “Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute. And I’ll know if you try to start her. Passenger seat only.”

Dustin knew better than to argue when it came to Steve’s car, so he nodded once and booked it from the room.

The moment they heard the main door to the auditorium slam shut, Steve was on him, pushing him back in his seat and looming over him with a deadly smile.

Eddie’s cock was straining against his jeans, rubbing against the zipper in a way that felt too good for him to be in public, especially when he knew Steve wasn’t gonna do anything about it.

“Unbutton your pants.”

Steve’s tone was cool, but Eddie knew him well enough to hear how much he was struggling to maintain composure.

What had he done to make Steve want him like this? Now?

“Here?” Eddie asked, looking around the room.

Steve’s hand cupped his jaw and turned it back to face him.

“Here.”

Eddie knew when to be a brat and now was not it.

He unbuttoned his pants with shaking hands, letting his cock feel a single moment of relief before Steve’s grip around it was rough, nearly too hard to feel good.

“Pull them down.”

“Steve-”

“Now. Unless you wanna stop. You know what to say if you do.”

Obviously, Eddie wasn’t going to stop. He trusted Steve, he trusted that Steve would never put him in any danger, and if Steve felt safe enough to do this here and now, then Eddie could let him have what he needed.

Eddie tugged his pants and boxers down to his thighs. He ignored the twinge in his back at the uncomfortable angle, focusing on Steve’s eyes on him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watched Eddie fumble.

“Turn around. On your knees.”

Eddie turned around, got on his knees.

“Lean forward.”

Eddie leaned forward.

Steve dropped to his knees and gripped Eddie’s hips. His nose brushed against the tail of his spine, breath leaving pinpricks of moisture behind. Or was that sweat? Had it gotten hotter in here?

“What if Dustin comes back in?”

“He won’t. He never has free access to my car.” Steve’s lips brushed against his skin, and Eddie realized just before it happened what Steve’s plan was.

Steve’s tongue trailed down the crack of his ass, hot and wet, spit mixing with the beginnings of sweat from his two hours of excitement. He’d showered that morning, but that morning was a long time ago.

He tried not to tense his body or pull away, but Steve noticed everything.

“Eds, color.” Steve was giving him enough space to think, to concentrate on an answer. They weren’t really playing in that space, but it was an easy way for Eddie to figure out if he actually wanted to keep going regardless of them taking on their roles or him floating into space.

“Um. Yellow,” he admitted quietly. He so rarely said anything besides green, and usually only when he was incredibly overwhelmed, so Steve immediately stood up and walked in front of him.

“What’s got you worried, love?” Steve cupped his face in his hands, making him forget momentarily that his bare ass was out for anyone to walk in and see.

“I’m not really clean? And, um, I don’t really know if I can get off with just that in only a few minutes,” Eddie didn’t break eye contact. He knew Steve liked when he looked at him while he talked through this stuff. It made him proud.

“Oh, sweet boy. I don’t need you to smell like roses to wanna get my mouth all over you,” Steve kissed his forehead. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can continue it later once you’ve showered. Or not at all. But I will say I had no intention of getting you off here.”

“But. You were gonna eat me out?”

“Yeah for a couple minutes. Get you worked up. Remind you that you belong to me, that you’re mine no matter who else gets to share your time.”

Steve was going to torture him, then. Why was that making him sweat more?

“You’re mine, baby. I get to make you feel good because it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Green.”

“Relax, sweet boy. I’ve got you.”

Eddie knew he did, so he let his forehead fall, resting against his arms folded over the back of his fake throne. There was something to be said about being worshiped here, something about being on his knees while holding all the power, but he was already too distracted by Steve’s hands pulling his cheeks apart to lick at his entrance to care.

Steve was good with his mouth and it was all too easy to get lost in the feeling of his tongue circling him, pushing past his rim every few swipes and making him rush to stifle a moan.

Just when Eddie started to feel like he needed a hand on him, Steve’s tongue disappeared.

Eddie shivered.

Steve’s hand ran up and down his back, but no other touch came, no words of comfort.

Eddie could hear rolling thunder in the distance and remembered Wayne saying something about getting home before it was supposed to storm tonight.

Might be too late for that now.

He could blame Steve.

Steve pulled his hand away and tugged his pants up for him, nearly knocking him over in his haste to get them in place and buttoned.

“Be good for me, sweet boy. I want you to finish up here and get home before it starts raining. I’ll be there when I drop Dustin off to take care of you,” Steve kissed his temple and started walking away.

“Wait!” Eddie got off the chair and rushed over to Steve, doing his best to ignore the wet, slippery feeling that Steve left behind. “Wayne’s gonna be home by midnight. You won’t be long?”

Steve shook his head, coming back to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Just gotta run in and make sure he heats up his dinner or he’ll forget. I’ll head straight over after that. Promise.”

Eddie nodded and watched as Steve walked out the door.

Thunder rolled again, still far enough away for him to be able to get to his van and get home.

He rushed through shutting off the lights, only leaving the security light on for the janitor when they got there first thing in the morning, throwing his bag over his shoulder and running to his van.

It was dark, but Eddie could still see the heavy clouds rolling in.

He unlocked his van, hopped into the driver’s seat, and turned the key.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Raindrops fell on the windshield and Eddie felt like crying.

Day six: ao3 | tumblr

[alemap4]

One month, six days, and four hours

ミ★A Tsukishima x reader angst☆彡

It’s been one month, six days, and four hours since he broke up with you.

Through. Text. “I’m breaking up with you” the text had read, a gray “sorry” coming a minute after. Sorry, like it was an afterthought. Like your feelings were just an afterthought. Like he could just rip your heart out and say “sorry” like it doesn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter.

You tried to text and call him, your teary eyes had frantically tried to get ahold of him in every way possible, but before you knew it you were blocked on everything. He had even blocked you on tumblr and picsart?

He truly was done?

The whole month after the break up, you tried talking to him, tried going to his house, and even roping the volleyball team in your plans. Nothing worked. When you’d talk he’d ignore or walk away as Tadashi would give you a sad look and say a quiet sorry. When you’d go to the Tsukishima residence he’d conveniently not be at home, or just wouldn’t open the door, though you could see him out the window and his mother and brother as they pity you. When the team would try to help get you two alone or to try talking he’d make up excuses saying he has to focus or go home. He wouldn’t even talk to you during class and you sat right next to each other, something that used to bring a smile to your face with the closeness but now brings unshed tears. It hurts.

He’s avoiding you, you're one of the team's managers and somehow you haven’t even been able to talk to one of the star players for over a month. The star player who for six months would say he loved you. He’d take you out, relax with you and reassure you. You were in love. It just doesn’t make sense. Keis smart, he thinks his decisions through, he wouldn’t just break up will for nothing. It makes your mind run, did you do something? Is it all your fault?

How can someone go from so in love, to ending things through text, to completely pretending you never existed? That your relationship never happened? How can he be so okay when your heart breaks each time you see him. Did he lie? Did he not really love you? Was he just telling you what you wanted to hear? Were you just nothing to him? Was he just playing with you? Was the past six months a joke?

Fuck.

The questions won’t stop. It’s gotten to be too much and now there’s tears streaming from your eyes. Fuck, this can’t be happening right now. “Um…I need to go to the bathroom” you say, excusing yourself from practice, almost making it the entire way out the door before a big choked sob makes its way out, instantly getting the attention of everyone in the gym. Fuck. You quickly run out trying to find somewhere to hide, but it’s too late. He saw you.

For the past one month, six days, and seven hours you haven’t allowed him to see you cry. He doesn’t get to see you vulnerable anymore. Not when he’s the cause of it. He doesn’t get to see your pained face and see just how much he affected you. Not when he’s calm and okay. The break up seemingly not even affecting him, so he can’t see how it affects you.

Pulling into a hidden corner you crouch down just as you hear some yelling. “Y/n” someone yells. He yells. “Y/n” he continues to yell. Why? Why him? Why couldn’t suga come comfort you or even Tanaka. Anyone would be better than the blonde that sounds closer with every yell. “Y/n where are you?” A sigh, “please come out…we can talk just please”.

Please.

He’s pleading. He’s never done that. You don’t want to hear him out, you don’t want to hear what he has to say not anymore, you don’t want him to see you tear streaked and broken, but before you can even register your body’s already moved. There he stands. He’s no more than five feet away from you and your heart pangs at the closeness. You haven’t been this close to him in forever. You hate that you’ve missed it.

“Y/n..” he looks at you, “please don’t run away, please let’s just talk, we can talk now please” Tsukishima say’s slowly closing the distance. Talk. Now he wants to talk. You’ve wanted to talk for a whole month, and now he wants to. After seeing you broken and hurt he wants to talk. No. He didn’t want to talk when you tried messaging him. He didn’t want to talk when you tried your damndest to speak to him, he ignored you.

Like a flip being switched, your heartbrokenness has turned to anger.

“Fuck you kei” you say. You want him to hurt, the same way he hurt you, but worse. “You break up with me, you block me, you ignore me, and now you want to talk? Well I don’t. So. Fuck. You.” You yell, poking him in the chest for each “you”. His expression turns from impassive to hurt, good.

That is until he takes your hands, “your right…I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t do a lot of things y/n and I’m sorry…I didn’t want things to turn out like this…I didn’t want to hurt you- “how can you say that?… Kei I’ve been hurt this whole month? How’d you expect to not hurt me while ripping my heart from my chest?” You ask interrupting him, “did you think I’d just be okay with you breaking up with me?…I-im not you Kei…I loved-love you I couldn’t just” you sigh, wiping away your tears and taking a deep breath, “I couldn’t just stop like you did”.

Exhausted and drained, your legs choose that moment to give out, you brace yourself for an impact that never comes. Suddenly you're in strong warm arms. In tsukkis arms. You want to thrash around, break free and pretend you didn’t just inhale his familiar scent or nuzzle closer. But you're drained and he does feel so good, so comforting. You don’t want to slip up, you're mad at him, he broke up with you through a text, he ignored you, this comfort isn’t forever, you shouldn’t bask in it.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, hugging you tighter. When your breathing has stilled he pulls away. The comforts missed but what greets you shocks you. He’s crying. There’s unshed tears crowding his eyes. You’ve never seen Tsukishima like this. “I-” you start only to be interrupted by him.

“You're wrong though” he says looking away, “I’ve never stopped loving you…i could never stop loving you” he finishes as a single tear drops from his eyes. Fuck. He’s pretty when he cries. Fuck. He-he still loves you? “I don’t understand..kei you can’t just tell me what I want to hea-“ I’m not. I’ve never stopped loving you no matter how hard I tried. I-I’m not used to feeling like this, to wanting someone this bad, I love you but I’m not - I could never - I don’t know how to be what’s right for you” he says making you wetly laugh. “Your so dumb” you whisper with a slight smile on your face, “Kei” you grab his face, “your what’s right for me, you don’t need to change, you don’t need to do anything, I. Love. You. Even after you’ve ignored me and broke me I’ve loved you. Your what’s right for me, please stop being so dumb” you finish pulling him into a kiss.

The kiss, like all Tsukishima kisses, is amazing. Even with the salty taste of tears and chapped lips it’s everything. You’ve missed this, you’ve missed him. By the way he’s holding on to you tighter, pulling you in more and more, he’s missed you too.

Things aren’t fixed thirty minutes later when you two walk back into practice hand in hand. But there’s been a start. You trust Tsukishima and he knows he can go to you, that his love is reciprocated, that he doesn’t have to run away from it. Things aren’t fixed but you're together again and for you right now that’s all you want. With your hand in his warm hand you can almost feel your heart mending back together.

✩ 𝒜／𝓃

ℐ 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒽ℴ𝓅ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 ℯ𝓃𝒿ℴ𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈ℴ𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓉𝓎𝓅ℴ𝓈!! 𝒞ℴ𝓂𝓂ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇ℯ𝒷𝓁ℴ𝑔𝓈 𝒶𝓇ℯ 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇ℯ𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉ℯ𝒹!!✩

[hexenmond]

The Witch Door fanfic: new chapter up on AO3!

Thanks to the most fantastic mootie in the whole wide world 🥰 (not putting you on a pedestal, I’m just high on endorphines right now, don’t worry) I am extremely returned to my opus magnum and getting obsessed again. @tryan-a-bex left a comment on each of the five chapters I had posted on AO3, and while I still wish I had a beta reader, I am happy enough with part 1 to just put it online as it is. So that will be happening over the course of the next week or two, since there’s only four chapters left and they’re written.

Side note: two things have been keeping me from writing (apart from the usual life stuff), one being my new keyboard layout – I’m still not quite as fast with it than with regular Qwertz, but I have been practising and switched both my computers to use Neo as the default by now. So that’s getting negligible.

And the other thing is… my brain came up with a Dead Boy Detectives oneshot 😆😆😆 which is nice of course, but since it’s much shorter at about 7k I feel like I want to/need to finish this first. And I will! Not least so I can finally read other people’s DBD fics again, that feels like a no go for me right now.

But now without further ado, here’s the beginning of chapter 6:

It’s Wednesday evening, and Jousia is bored out of his mind. There’s no new book that excites him, and this whole week nobody has come over for a chat, not even Tzofiya. And Katariina wasn’t feeling well earlier and wanted to stay in bed reading instead of coming over for coffee.

He walks around aimlessly, growing more irritable by the minute. As he steps out onto his balcony, the chilly evening air cools his temper again. I’ll see if Jesse is home. Even if I don’t make for very good company right now, and we already went out for lunch last week.

He goes back in and draws the sigil on the door. It takes several knocks before the thin wooden door is opened and Jesse’s surprised face is looking at him.

“Jousia! Uh, what’s up?” He isn’t smiling quite as brightly as he usually does when they meet.

“Hey. Sorry for just turning up like that. Are you busy at the moment, or do you have some time?”

Jesse hesitates for a moment. “That depends,” he finally says with a wry smile. “To be honest, I don’t feel like I’m very good company right now.”

“Oh.” Jousia can’t remember a single time when Jesse wasn’t a literal ray of sunshine in his presence. “I’m not sure I’m any better today actually, but maybe it would be nicer to not be alone?”

Another moment’s hesitation, then Jesse makes room for him. “Come on over, then.”

They shut their doors, standing a little awkwardly in Jesse’s living room. “Um, please excuse the mess. I would have tidied if I knew you were coming…”

‘Mess’ is a strong word, but now that Jesse mentioned it, Jousia notices a few more loose things lying around than when he was here before. “I don’t mind,” he says, which is followed by a few more moments of awkward silence.

“Do you want anything, actually? Coffee, perhaps?” Jesse is clearly trying to be a good host, but still without his usual zest.

Jousia puts his head to one side, looking at his friend. “Hm. Have you had supper yet?”

“Um no, I haven’t. Didn’t feel like eating.”

“I could make us an omelette or something, if you’ve got some ingredients. How about that?”

“Oh no, Jousia, you don’t have to–” Jesse sounds almost panicky, but Jousia has made up his mind.

Read the whole chapter on AO3:

(Also I actually already posted a bit of chapter 7 on tumblr)

💃🏼

[birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo]

TWO TOWERS THOUGHTS!!!!

there are more of these bc the two towers is probably my favourite of the trilogy, despite the distinct LACK of boromir 😔

BUT i did notice a few things that baby birb totally ignored or forgot about!!! find out what they are........below 😈

one of baby birb's fav shots of aragorn was when he's lying across a rock tracking merry and pippin bc it reminded me of that one episode spongebob squarepants where the lads end up riding a rock to the customer's house 🤣 'it's not a boulder, it's a rock! a big, beautiful ROCK!!' lmao

baby birb ALSO loved all the shots of everyone running. as a smol individual, i had to run EVERYWHERE to keep up with the Tall Folk 😒 sure it was nice seeing THOSE feckers sprinting for a change!!

am still very confused about why anyone listened to grima what's his name, ur man's half the way to gollum u know 👀

tangential to the running scenes: i love aragorn's doofy run where he's flinging his one arm about like a silly. reminds me of my OWN unhinged run 🤣 (it is possible that these films are more deeply imprinted upon me than i thought 😅)

'LOOKS LIKE MEAT'S BACK ON THE MENU, BOYS!!!'

legolas's FACE every time he has an emotion. delightful

knowing that viggo mortensen broke his toe made me laugh at the helmet kicking scene tbh, i know it's meant to be poignant but that EXTREMELY REALISTIC scream of pain got me going like 🤣

shout out to treebeard holding merry and pippin in his tree hands. i kept thinking 'what if he just. smashes them together like barbie dolls 🤣'

ORCSES. HOBBITSES. i actually love gollum-smeagol, he's too pathetic for me to hate. HE'S LITERALLY SAT THERE SINGING HIS LIL SONG AND EATING A RAW FISH. LEAVE HIM GO HE'S NOT BOTHERING ANYONE ;A;

that gifset ruined everything for me. 'this forest is old......very old....' old as balls. that's just the line now. i no longer acknowledge the original. 😔

cheeky gandalf!! 'u wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick!! 🥺😳😘🤭🙄' (<- this is how birb thought using emojis worked a scant five years ago. be GRATEFUL i was not on tumblr back then, for the carnage would have been GREAT AND TERRIBLE!!!)

i love love LOVE the scene of the trio beating the shite out of the bg guys while gandalf walked slowly toward the king. u just see legolas punching a dude in the face, aragorn ZOOMING round in front of gandalf and off to the side, it's hilarious 🤣

whEN THEY TOSS GRIMA DOWN THE STAIRS LIKE JGY 👀

so many ICONIC lines!!! 'boil em, mash em, stick em in a stew!!'

'it's the beards 👀'

U DROP ARAGORN OFF A CLIFF???? OH! OH! JAIL FOR ORCS!! JAIL FOR ORCS FOR 1000 YEARS!!!!

rip eowyn, she's so lonely and sad that the slightest validation from a hot guy she's known for five minutes was enough to make her fall stupid in love with him 😔

(i am also stupid in love with him, but it's different when i do it bc. um. uhhhh. 👀😳)

god he IS great tho, isn't he??? he's so dirty and greasy and wet and soggy, i love him and his dirty face and his dirty clothes and his dirty hands i love him i love him i lo

legolas got SO ANGRY about the orc telling them aragorn went over the cliff, he took it SO PERSONALLY. this makes birb want them to kiss each other 😊

they can kiss gimli as well, i don't mind!!

also the king awkwardly patting legolas on the shoulder like he's a slightly homophobic dad trying to comfort his gay son after a break-up, 'i still care about u but im super uncomfortable so im just not gonna say anything ok?? ok. manly head nod. im out 😐'

OPEN MOUTH KISSING??? BEFORE MARRIAGE????!!!!!!! OBSCENE!!!!!! LEAVE ROOM FOR THE HOLY GHOST!!!

side note: poor elrond, here he is trying to make sure his daughter has a good life and all she wants is to marry the dirty ranger like

'u think u know a girl, u raise her for 2000 or whatever years, organise her birthday parties and buy her a pony and teach her how to control the river, and then in the end she leaves u behind and marries a guy with a fraction of her lifespan, dooming herself to future suffering and despair smh 😔'

also arwen's face when aragorn is breaking up with her,,,,,'what did daddy say to u?? this is bc of what he said, isn't it?! i can't believe he's still interfering with my love life!!!!' ;A;

that lil ~half caress~ aragorn does to legolas's hand when he's returning arwen's necklace to him????? it's like??? idk super romantic??? it made my stomach go SWOOP?? if i stare at a gif of this scene i feel a bit dizzy??? is that weird. am i. weird 👀

i want them to make out with each other, sorry lads 😔

the annoying thing in all these medieval fantasy type stories, when there's not enough men for the war, they're always conscripting 10 year old boys, while the teenage girls and young women without any kids are hiding with the elders and children. LIKE. HOW can u justify sending little 8 yo haleth son of hama to the front lines?? LOOK AT HIM!! HE'S TINY!!! surely a 15 - 21 year old young woman would have a better chance of NOT DYING than a wee lad!!! they're peasants, they're used to hard labour!! do directors/writers etc think it's more ~realistic~ or sth?? do ppl think NO WOMAN ever took up a sword in a crisis??? even if certain things are Not Done (and in some places, even under penalty of DEATH), the Rules tend to fly out the feckin window once there's an emergency!!! I THINK 10,000 ORCS MARCHING ON HELM'S DEEP COUNTS FOR AN EMERGENCY???????

all im saying. is if we're all going to die anyway, then EVERYONE should get a sword. even the kids. ESPECIALLY the kids. it went really well in the walking dead when the lil girls each had a pistol. i promise i can be trusted with weapons i p romi s

the best thing in medieval-style warfare is when the two armies stand across from each other and shout insults back and forth for a bit, like 'you're ugly!' or 'you're smelly!' or 'i slept with your sister, and it weren't anything to write home about!!'

please could somebody fetch gimli a ladder, ur mans can't see above the fecking wall like nnO NO NOT THAT KIND OF LADDER

legolas and gimli counting their kills will never NOT be funny to me

MY KING A BEAST!! LOOK AT HIM GO!!! HE RODE A FUCKING LADDER AND CRASHED INTO A BUNCH OF ORCS LIKE A KILLER WHALE GOING AFTER SEALS!!! ;A;

god when he shoves open those doors and ARRIVEs it's so so so fucking hot. god he is sso hot. he's so hot i love him i love him i

lol they sneak out the side door like 'hee hee hoo hoo, no one shall see us~' 🤣

'TOSS ME!!!!!' *yeets the dwarf*

legolas SHIELD SURFING!!! HANG TEN, BRO!!! GNARLY WIPE OUT!!! 🤙

im sorry

imagine being such an asshole that u make the fucking TREES angry??? like, u make the trees hate u SO FUCKING MUCH. that they literally come MARCHING OUT OF THE FOREST to commit mass property damage???? 👀

when i watched the scene i shouted 'TILL BIRNAM WOOD DO COME TO HIGH DUNSINANE!!!!' out loud but nobody laughed ._.

come onnnn it's funny right??? esp since we know that 'no man of woman born' can kill the guy in the next film!!! iT'S FUNNY, RIGHT??? ;A;

sam and frodo tumbling down the stairs also made me laugh but i paid for it immediately after when sam goes 'it's your sam. don't you know your sam?' fucknig KILL MEEEEE PLS

the most iconic, most beautiful, most painful line of the film-----the one that always makes me cry, the one i couldn't forget if i wanted to, the words that stand between me and DEATH------

'That there's some good in this world, Mr Frodo. And it's worth fighting for.'

GOD. IM FUCKING DEAD 😭😭😭😭 beautiful delivery as well, shout out to samwise gamgee for being the best man to walk middle earth, i will now lie in a puddle of my own tears _(:3」∠)

[strawbnetwork]

16? 18?

16. BRILLIANT! I like mint choc chip it's lovely and perfect and everyome who doesn't like it is a fucking loser.

18. Milk chocolate tea without any um. Listen I don't actually like the part of boba that makes it boba. For regular tea English breakfast I think I'm not actually entirely sure what constitutes as an English breakfast? Who fucking knows

Ask game

[unluckyhoneybee]

Hii congrats on 1000 followers, you absolutely deserve all of this, you are incredibly talented and my favorite writer here on Tumblr. Could I ask for something with Danny ric with the

I. Making you sit on their lap when there is no more space and keeping you in place with a hand on your waist.

Like the reader being a fellow driver and then sitting like that during one of the debrief that drivers do during the weekend. Thanks a lot <3

The 1000 Celebration.

I. Making you sit on their lap when there is no more space and keeping you in place with a hand on your waist

You ran through the paddock. You were already more than five minutes late to the debrief. You reached the office and opened the door, all of them looked at you from the packed room. There was not a single seat free.

Really? They have 20 drivers and they only bring 19 chairs?!

"Um... I'm sorry. I had... An emergency" You lied. You had forgotten about it.

"Fine, come in" Someone told you.

You looked around the room before closing the door. When you looked back, a very excited Daniel Ricciardo was looking at you. He waved his hand and patted his leg. You blushed.

"YN, please, take a seat, we had already started."

"Yeah, sorry Sir"

Fighting your common sense, you walked to Daniel under everyone else's looks. Some of them were laughing, other were surprised. Seb and Valtteri looked unimpressed by their friend's antics.

You gave Danny a tight smile and took a seat on his leg. Yes. You were good friends. Yes. He was handsome. And yes. You were blushing hard. He put a hand on your waist and made you sit properly and closer to his torso. You were trying to not faint. It felt so good to be this close.

"It's Lando's fault. He broke one chair." Daniel told you on your ear. You shivered.

"Well... It's not that bad" You whispered with a smile.

He smiled too and nodded.

"Not bad"

"Hey guys, we are trying to discuss something" Lewis said with a funny face.

"I have another leg for you, baby" Daniel answered with a wink.

It only made you blush more.

As the debrief went on, Daniel's grip became softer until it was just his hand and arm loosely wrapped around you. You had even leaned back on him, your body resting against his shoulder.

"Well, that's it guys. See you next week"

"Remember to bring one extra chair" Seb joked.

Oh shit.

"Okay guys, for real. Are you jealous?"

You left the room laughing with the others, Daniel following close behind. He caughted you outside the building and his hand car to rest on its previous place on your waist.

"Hey babe" He said with a smile. "I ve been thinking... You were pretty comfortable, right?"

You rolled your eyes with a smile.

"What do you say? You and me tonight. On the Italian next to the hotel"

You looked around.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"Okay, fine."

He muttered a victorious yes.

"I'll go and thank Lando's parents for having such a clumsy kid"

[writing-by-gayrainbowbridge]

Ketchup And Tabasco Chaos

Inspiration From This Gorgeous Fanart Made By murdermuffinloki:

⚠️Warning: Minor Language⚠️

Enjoy 💚💚💚

(Please Check The Pinned Post On My Tumblr Page To See If There Are More Parts To This Story)

"Pass the ketchup."

President Loki frowned deeply, glancing at Sylvie who was stirring the pot of...whatever it was they were making for dinner. President Loki hadn't been paying too much attention when Sylvie suggested they cook for Loki who was still upstairs asleep in their room.

Somehow, Loki had got some Midgardian illness and only Sylvie's assurances that Loki was going to be fine that stopped him from destroying the entire Midgardian population.

"Can I get a please?" President Loki said pleasantly, taking joy in the way Sylvie glared at him. It was no secret to any of them that President Loki desired to cause trouble at any given moment.

"I'll stick this spoon up your ass if you don't give me the ketchup in the next ten seconds," she told him, President Loki scowling at her copy of the pleasant smile he had given her a moment ago.

They both knew she would do it too.

President Loki snatched up the ketchup from the countertop with an aggravated sigh. But then a devious smirk spread across his, glancing at Sylvie who was looking back at the pot, hand held out for the ketchup. "Are you sure you want the ketchup?"

Sylvie clicked her tongue. "Yes, I'm sure. Now give it to me."

President Loki's smirk widened. "Well, if you insist..."

He popped the cap off and just as Sylvie turned to look at him with a frown on her face, he squeezed the bottle, ketchup sauce spraying everywhere. The cabinets, the floor and all over Sylvie's blond hair was covered in a coating of ketchup sauce who gasped, an outraged look taking over her face.

President Loki only smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Oops."

"That's it!" Sylvie hissed, grabbing the nearest ingredient which happened to be spicy tabasco sauce and President Loki's eyes went wide as he got a face full of Tabasco sauce.

He shouted as some got into his eye that felt like it was suddenly on fire and squeezed it shut, resisting the urge to rub it. That would only make it worse, he knew.

Sylvie grinned savagely. "I hope it never stops burning, you stuck up bastard!"

President Loki growled low in his throat but Sylvie didn't back down like Loki would have. She was very stubborn like that. "You have until the count of five to run."

Sylvie stepped closer, right up in President Loki's personal space. Despite her short height, she was still rather intimidating when she wanted to be, so much so that President Loki had to resist the urge to step back.

"Or else what?" She hissed out, deadly quiet.

President Loki glared but Sylvie glared right back and they were both sure a real fight was about to break out any second when a voice cut through the heavy silence.

"What in Asgard is going on in here?!"

President Loki and Sylvie turned their heads towards the sound of the voice in unison just as Loki walked around the corner and froze, staring wide eyed and speechless at the mess of the kitchen. He looked tired though and guilt rushed through both President Loki and Sylvie as they wondered if they'd woken Loki up from all their yelling.

"Well, um..." President Loki bit his lip, glancing at Sylvie.

Sylvie looked at President Loki, having no clue what to say. "We just, uh..."

Loki sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, giving them both disapproving looks. "Can you two please not use ketchup and tabasco as murder weapons?!"

"We just wanted to make dinner for you," Sylvie and President Loki stated at the same time, making them glance at each other again.

Loki's expression softened a little. "I appreciate the thought but it would be great if you two could stop trying to murder one another every minute."

That was fair. The pair did quite literally try to kill each other every other day.

"Well, he/she started it!" Sylvie and President Loki protested at the same, pointing at each other.

"Well, I'm finishing it!" Loki snapped before coughing hard, putting a hand over his mouth. He clearly still wasn't well enough to be up which only added onto the pair's guilt. "I'm going back to bed. Clean this mess up and when you're ready to be civil, come join me. I require cuddles and comfort but I will not deal with you two's banter."

With that, Loki turned and left the kitchen, leaving the pair to stare at the spot he had been standing.

"This is all your fault," Sylvie grumbled, waving her hand and vanishing the mess from all the surfaces of the kitchen and herself though she left President Loki to deal with his own mess himself.

"All you needed to do was say please," President Loki muttered. He was going to need a shower since he knew not how to vanish messes like Sylvie and Loki did.

"And that warrants you spraying ketchup all over me?" Sylvie gritted out.

"Don't act like a saint. You're just as bad, dousing me in tabasco sauce!" President Loki muttered.

Sylvie looked like she was going to strangle him any second now before she sighed, all the fight draining out of her body. "Why do we always have to fight?"

President Loki thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "We're different from one another. We're bound to clash. Though I suppose we could try harder to get along. I'd rather this relationship to not be ruined."

Sylvie nodded, leaning against President Loki who instinctively wrapped his arms around her. "Try harder. I can do that."

President Loki hummed softly, pressing a kiss to her now clean hair. "Let's not leave our god waiting. You know how fussy he gets when we leave him alone for long."

Sylvie had no arguments there.

Once they'd finished making up what President Loki found out to be pasta apparently, they headed up to their room (Sylvie had forgiven President Loki enough to clean the tabasco sauce off him thankfully).

They quietly slipped into the room and smiled at the sight of Loki under a large amount of blankets, very obviously curled up in a ball.

He blinked his eyes open when he heard them come in and narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously. "You two had better be done fighting."

"We've agreed to try harder to get along more often than not" President Loki promised as he sat on the bed and helped Loki sit up who whined and protested but brightened when he saw the bowls of pasta balanced in Sylvie's hands.

"Good. I'm glad," Loki muttered, taking the bowl Sylvie handed him eagerly. "Thank you for the dinner."

Sylvie kissed his cheek. "Just get better for us, okay?"

Loki nodded, putting a forkful of pasta into his mouth and closed his eyes as he hummed in pleasure.

President Loki and Sylvie smiled at each other from either side of Loki who leaned into President Loki's side.

Get along. They could do that.

No problem.

...

@murdermuffinloki Those two are going to give Loki a migraine, smh 😂

@girl-with-many-fandoms Hope you like Sylki (I know lots of people don't ship it so I'm like ???) with some President Loki thrown into the mix XD

[timetravesty]

(Queen B Book 3) Say You Love Me Pt. 11

✨Pt.11 is here!✨ Please Enjoy!

Context: This took awhile to get out 🙈 but thank you for your patience! I actually think, while my writing enthusiasm is fairly low, I might just be working most on this fic versus completing every request. 🤔 Now, I will be completing requests, no worries 😌 but if I ever just drop off from Tumblr, I wanna make sure that this story, my personal favorite, is complete even if the others aren't. Now, again, thank you for the patience and please enjoy the chapter anon and others as I enter vacation mode for the next few days 😎💅

Masterlist

General Content Warnings: Mature, Angst, NSFW, Cursing, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobia, Semi-Violence, Cheating, Slow Burn

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“And send these prints over to my office by tomorrow morning.” Poppy said, tossing a large piece of white paper onto the table as Bea leaned casually against it. 

Glancing over at the girl, Poppy watched Bea critically. 

She was… in simple terms, extremely calm these past few days and really, it was confusing. 

After the whole dinner fiasco, Poppy had shown up to Rensler five times, once every day. And each time Poppy showed up, Bea had been…

“Sure, I’ll send them right over Ms. Min-Sinclair.” Bea took the paper, folding it up into a cylinder and walking over to her large desk. From below, the streets of New York sang with song, happy hour was probably starting considering it was a Friday night. 

“...Thank you.” Poppy murmured, glancing around the room as Bea busied herself with whatever. When there was previously an air of tension, the room felt cold. Lifeless as Poppy stood in a simple business outfit that she had casually thrown on. She had to admit, it wasn’t her best, but really, Bea hadn’t even glanced her way these past couple of days. 

The bathroom meeting was harsh. Poppy could admit that. But she certainly didn’t expect Bea to be some silent worker after getting yelled at by her temporary boss. She had assumed Bea had more fire than that. 

The closing of a nearby drawer caused Poppy to snap to attention, looking over at Bea who was looking at the floor. “Okay, is this all for today?” Bea asked, looking up as brown locks fell in front of her eyes.

“Yes, it is.” Poppy quickly responded, watching as Bea picked up her messenger bag from the floor. That was another thing. Bea had turned to just throwing her stuff on the floor whenever Poppy and her entered the office together. 

“Alright, I’ll head out first tonight.” Bea mumbled, placing her bag on her shoulder and walking past Poppy. 

She had to admit. She hated the silent treatment, but at least Bea was being a diligent worker. That was… an upgrade she supposed. 

Poppy walked to the spare closet, reaching inside to grab her bag when the side pocket began to buzz. Pulling it out, she pressed accept without looking at the caller ID. 

“Ms. Min-Sinclair?” Tevon said through the line, an unsettling thumping in the background as Poppy quirked a brow. 

“Tevon? It’s late, what is that ungodly sound?” 

“Um, well, I’m so sorry to disturb you at this hour, but… there’s been an issue?” 

“An issue? What issue?” Poppy snapped, grabbing her coat and bag as she shut the closet door with her foot. Just her luck. A moody employee and a new issue. 

“In celebration of a new issue coming out in a few weeks, some of the employees and I suggested heading out for happy hour, but some of the models had too much to drink and now they won’t come home.” 

“And this concerns me, why?” Poppy asked, walking up the steps and opening the double doors. Bea had already left, if the silence in the room was any indicator. 

“We could have a publicity issue on our hands. None of the models will stop and-” 

“Tevon, I understand now. Where are you?” 

“The nightclub on 77th.” 

“....I’ll be there in a few minutes. Make sure those girls don’t drink another drop.” Poppy demanded, silencing her phone and taking a deep breath. This was always torture.

Publicity issues with well known models or even models associated with the magazine. With the new cover coming out, it meant everyone had to be on their best behavior. Even Poppy. 

Taking the elevator down, Poppy tapped her foot against the tile, counting in her head as it finally reached the first floor. She stalked out, ignoring the receptionist and moving through the double doors where Scott stood. He held the Rolls Royce’s door open with a smile, till he saw Poppy’s expression. 

“Head to the nightclub on 77th street. I have some employees who lack decorum.” 

Scott nodded, shutting the door quickly as Poppy adjusted her bag in the seat. While she didn’t want to, Poppy thought of a certain architect who was being rather childish at the moment. 

Sure, Poppy had fussed at Bea, but for her to back down like a little girl getting a slap on the wrist? It seemed too silly to believe. 

Because at times, Bea was a spitfire, but almost always, she had spoken her mind against injustice. It was… one of the things that Poppy found so infuriating. She would have to find something to remedy it, she supposed. 

As much as both of them wanted to be off this project, Poppy could not stand to work with someone whose nose was high in the air all the time. Even if Bea had looked down on Poppy’s lifestyle since Belvoire. 

The honking of a horn next to the car sounded in the air as Poppy looked over at the mass of traffic accumulating. “I didn’t expect traffic to be so awful on this street.” Poppy murmured, tapping her sharp nails against the car door as Scott sighed. 

“It’s probably because news got out about the concert.” Scott replied, scratching the back of his neck as he waited for traffic to move. 

“Concert?” Poppy asked, startling to attention as Scott nodded. 

“Yea, that… celebrity, she’s holding a concert at a local nightclub since her tour ended. Who was it again….”

“Please don’t say it’s-” 

“It’s… It’s on the tip of my tongue…” Scott murmured as Poppy’s mind went to only one celebrity that she knew of who’s tour had recently ended. 

“On this green earth, it can not be-” 

“Zoey Wade!” Scott exclaimed, looking up at a large billboard as Poppy rolled down her window. In bright lights, a 20ft Zoey stood in a powerful pose, overlooking the cars of New York as Poppy groaned. Even a screened version of the woman, Poppy couldn't mistake her as New Money from Belvoire. 

“Zoey Wade is back?” Poppy growled, rolling up her window as Scott nodded excitedly. 

“Yea, my daughters love her music! She’s very talented and-” 

“Scott, just… just drive. I need to think.” Poppy mumbled, making Scott roll up the cover as Poppy crossed her legs. 

Likely, her employees were conveniently at the club where Zoey was performing. Wade was a celebrity for a reason. 

And even more likely, Wade’s partner in crime would be in attendance. 

Poppy bit the tip of her nail, thinking quickly as the car finally began to move at a steady speed. Why should it concern her? It didn’t, but an uneasy feeling rested over Poppy’s stomach as the car continued to move. It was too late to wish for a little peace for the rest of the evening. 

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

“Welcome back babe.” Bea smiled, pressing a kiss to Zoey’s glowing cheek as her makeup artist waved Bea away. 

She smiled wide, leaning against the vanity as Bea handed Zoey a full bouquet of sunflowers. “Aw, girl, you shouldn’t have!” Zoey smiled, plucking the note from the bouquet and reading it. 

“Oh yea, totally didn’t get the calendar notification on my phone about your impending arrival or anything.” 

“I wanted to give you a heads up when I crash at your place for a few days. Reconstruction issues and all.” Zoey held up the small card, smiling her dazzling smile as Bea chuckled. “Sweet card, who wrote it for you?” 

“I wrote it thank you very much.” Bea gently reached to whack Zoey on her arm, not before getting a warning glare from Zoey’s hair stylist though. 

“You’re going to kill it tonight. Like you do every night.” 

“Thanks Bea. For being my #1 fan through all of this. Since Belvoire really.” Zoey stated, eyes going a little dreamy as she remembered their time during college. Yea… it was something that Bea was trying pretty dang hard to forget. “Of course, I guess memories of Belvoire look you in the face almost every weekday huh?” 

“Oh, Poppy you mean?” It felt weird to say her name, after calling her Ms. Min-Sinclair for the past few weeks.

“Yes Poppy. You’ve been lip locked on the whole thing and I’m in need of a serious spill.” A large whack of powder hit Zoey’s face as Bes flinched slightly. Between the conversation and the clamor backstage, it was honestly a little nerve wracking. 

“It’s so busy right now Z. I should probably just take my spot out front and…” Bea slowly moved to turn away until Zoey grabbed onto her wrist, smiling softly as her eyes sparkled. 

“Hold on girl! You think I was going to just let you off that easily? For my first show back in New York, I want you to introduce me on the station.” 

Bea stared at Zoey with a concerned expression. “...What?” 

“You heard me loud and clear, former queen B. Get your cute butt up to the dj booth. I’m on in ten.” Zoey finally released her hold on Bea’s wrist, spinning her fingers to wave Bea off as Bea turned. 

Well, this was certainly a different night club experience than she was used to. Never before had Bea been in the sacred dj booth, she had always been on the dance floor, with some cute girl or… a specific girl she supposed. 

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

“Fuck, why does it have to rain right now?” Bea cursed, pulling the neck of her blue leather jacket up as she walked through a puddle. 

The instructions to the nightclub were… less than clear as Bea had to check her phone multiple times in order to find the place. When she finally arrived, a long ass line was piled in front. The club must have been popular, but Bea had never heard of it before. 

Poppy, thankfully, had texted instructions that would let Bea slip in without having to deal with the big bouncer guy upfront. Though, even if she did have to do a little bargain, she could have passed it. 

After all, dressed in a simple white sports bra with black skinny jeans and a striking blue leather jacket with a tiger print sewn in, Bea looked fit enough to be in the hot shot club. It also helped that Zoey had thrown her into some type of body chain that wrapped around her middle. It glimmered due to the rain and Bea could tell that most of the people in line had their eyes on her. 

It probably helped that her hair, as messy and uncombed as it usually was, was wet from rain, giving her a better look as Bea pushed her sunglasses up towards her hair. 

She smiled kindly at the bouncer, a stout man with a large frown. 

“Hey, I’m Bea.” She smiled as the bouncer ignored her. “I’m a guest of Poppy Min-Sinclair.” She finished as the bouncer slowly turned his head towards her. Looking Bea up and down, the man stepped to the side, holding open the door as Bea nodded. 

Who knew? Queen B’s influence actually did something sometimes. 

Stepping past the bouncer and into the club, the loud thumping bass rang in Bea’s ear as she made her way through the crowds. Luckily, she stood at a good height, allowing her to see over some people and head towards where Poppy was probably waiting. 

A few minutes of searching were finally worth it, stopping in front of a large couch where the queen B sat. 

While Bea decided to dress in stylish clothing that one could wear down the streets, Poppy’s dress should have been illegal. 

With her hair expertly styled and makeup professionally down, her hot pink dress had many slits down towards the bottom where it just ended to remain somewhat decent. The center, which Bea tried her best not to gawk at, exposed the blonde’s cleavage as she straightened up slightly when she saw Bea. A smirk graced her lips as she crossed her lean legs, showcasing a pair of stiletto black heels. 

With a straighter look, Bea could see that the dress actually wasn’t covering as much skin as Bea had thought. She could catch glimpses of Poppy’s mid-drift, only covered by thin fabric that probably could be….

“Hey there SweetCreek. I see that even you can follow simple directions.” Poppy spoke, causing Bea to snap out of her daydream as she shook her head. No matter how amazing Poppy looked, she was still the enemy. 

Bea smiled, reaching for her sunglasses and tossing them onto the leather couch. They bounced slightly as they sat to the side. Poppy had been watching them allowing Bea to step closer as she hovered over the girl. 

“Hello Poppy. Nice dress.” Bea said as Poppy rolled her eyes, glancing down at her perfectly manicured nails as she ignored Bea. 

“This is one of the biggest clubs in New York City. Anybody who is anyone will dress for the occasion.” 

“I mean… I don’t think you really dressed for the occasion. You look a million times better than any other girl here.” Poppy straightened at the comment, watching Bea move to the side as Bea took a seat on the couch. Poppy narrowed her eyes dangerously as she slowly traced her eyes over Bea’s outfit. 

Bea wasn’t sure if it was a look of approval, distaste, or what, but when Poppy’s eyes stopped on Bea’s mid-drift where the body chain was wrapped, Poppy averted her eyes. 

“I guess your outfit is acceptable…” Poppy begrudgingly admitted as Bea mocked a gasp. 

“The Poppy Min-Sinclair stamp of approval? I’m a lucky girl.” 

“Shut up Hughes before I regret this.” 

Bea mocked zipping her lips, smiling to herself as she looked over all of the club goers. A few cute girls, some really dorky looking guys, and…. Chloe?

Bea turned to look over at Poppy, realizing she really knew nothing about Satan’s plan as Poppy was swirling a glass of something. 

“Oh shit, you’re not going to poison Chloe right?” Bea asked, straightening up as Poppy glared at Bea. Under the lights of the club, bathed in dark blues and reds, Poppy looked like a mix of a demon and an angel. The hard angles were all there, but the curve in her lips and the gentle slope of her eyes lashes made her seem more gentle than she was. 

She rolled her eyes casually, shifting on the couch so she was only an inch from where Bea was sitting. A few more movements and Poppy could have been sitting on Bea’s lap. 

Bea mentally slapped that thought away as Poppy set her drink down on a nearby glass table. “Hughes…” Poppy said, voice low as she leaned a little closer. 

Bea wasn’t sure what was going on, but she would be lying if she said a small part of her wasn’t a little excited. 

“...Meet my new boyfriend, Bradley.” Poppy smiled wickedly, pulling back as a blonde meathead approached. Poppy stood, standing on her tippy toes to press a kiss to the man’s cheek as he smiled. 

“Wait a minute, you’re dating Bradley Denbrough??” Bea asked, standing up as the muscle head flashed an actor's smile. “The guy from that flop tv show?” 

He winced as Poppy shot Bea a glare. “Bradley is a very successful actor.”

“I’m actually looking to get into more serious roles.” The man said, trying to puff up his chest when he looked at Bea. She hadn’t noticed, but standing in a simple pair of sneakers while Bradley wore some pretty expensive designer boots, Bea was almost the exact same height as him. Those celebrity sites must have been lying when they said the “teen heartthrob” was 6ft. 

“Anyway, Bradley has been chatting with Chloe for the past week. Buttering her up on one of those sad little dating apps she uses.”

Poppy placed a hand on his chest, smiling up at the man as he huffed happily. He must have felt honored to even enter the club considering he was a huge has-been. 

“He’s going to humiliate her on stage, saying all of these crappy and corny things to that snake when we pull the rug from under her.” 

Bea nodded, avoiding eye contact with the two obviously fake lovebirds as she rocked on her heels. “That’s great I guess, but why am I here?” 

“Because, you’re going to feed Bradley his stupid lines. I figure “hero of the people Bea” can form some nice words about that back-stabbing bitch.” 

Bea rolled her eyes. “Really? I mean, sure, it’s a little cruel but also…” Poppy finally detached herself from Bradley’s side, walking closer to Bea and barely stretching her neck. She probably didn’t want to admit that the two had a fairly large height gap. 

“Are you helping or not, Newbie?” 

Peer pressure at its finest. 

“When is this happening?” Poppy smirked, pointing over towards the dj booth as she snapped her fingers. Bradley approached, placing a small device in Bea’s hand. 

“When I tell you, start feeding Bradley some stupid lines about Chloe. Until then…” Poppy grabbed Bea’s writs, nails digging in slightly as Bea bit her lip. She was way too worked up over this. 

“Keep Chloe distracted.” Poppy instructed, pulling on Bea’s wrist as she practically pushed Bea into the crowd of dancers. 

When Bea finally readjusted herself, she had lost Poppy in the crowd, but conveniently, Chloe was… dancing? Dancing was a kind word to use as Bea walked up to the sidekick. 

“Hey Chloe. Fancy seeing you here.” Bea smiled, gently rocking along with the DJ as Chloe finally stopped her movements. 

“News flash newbie. Only cool people are allowed in this club.” 

“What? Are we in middle school or something? Last I checked, the only requirement for this club is to look great.” Bea glanced at her outfit, knowing Chloe would too as she smiled. 

“I seem to fit that requirement.” Bea said, walking a little closer to Chloe who gulped slightly. 

“Whatever Hughes. I’m busy so bug off.” Chloe stated, resuming her movements and glancing around the club in a very unsubtle manner. Bea stayed close by, somehow feeling a pair of eyes on her as Bea whistled under her breath. 

“Are you looking for someone, Chloe?” 

“If you must know, I met this super amazing guy online and we’re meeting here tonight.” Chloe commented, adjusting the green body dress she wore. It was cute, but the lime green was a little too strong. 

“Really? Congrats.” Bea said as Chloe rolled her eyes. 

“Yea, he’s a super famous celebrity and he’s into me so he obviously has good taste.” 

“You’re absolutely right.” Bea smiled, catching a glimpse of Poppy in the corner of her eye as she gestured manically towards the stage. Taking a mic, Bea saw Bradley step into the spotlight, waving to the crowd that was basically ignoring him. Only when the microphone gave some serious feedback did the dancing finally quiet down. 

Chloe released a large gasp, starting Bea slightly as Bradley tapped the mic. 

“What’s up everyone?!” Bradley spoke in the mic as the crowd remained quiet besides the back beat of the speakers. “Hate to ruin yalls Friday night, but I have a very special announcement to make today. Help me invite a special little lady up on stage right now?” The spotlight spent a few seconds searching before landing directly on Chloe. 

The girl was having a large main character moment, adjusting her dress and her hair as she fixed her posture and smiled wide. 

“Later Bea. I’m about to meet the love of my life.” She smiled, walking over to the stage before Bea grabbed ahold of the girl’s wrist. 

“Hold it.” Bea said as Chloe whipped around so fast, the hair on her head had to catch up. 

“What the hell? Let go of-” 

“Don’t believe everything you hear up there, okay?” Bea said, dropping Chloe’s wrist and shrugging. “You’re in the spotlight right now.”

Chloe paused, looking around the crowd before rolling her eyes. She left Bea, making her way up the stage as Bea felt a bump on her shoulder. 

Poppy smiled wickedly besides Bea, focusing on the stage as Bea sighed. “Are you ready Newbie?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

Up on the stage, Chloe finally joined Bradley, grinning ear to ear as the blonde boy took both of her hands. 

“Chloe, babe, I have so much I wanna say.” He slurred out as Chloe beamed. 

“Yes Bradley?”

Bea felt Poppy’s elbow hit her side, grunting slightly as Bea turned on her mic. “...I mean, she’s obviously the hottest girl here.” 

Bradley repeated the line. The crowd was silent as Bea continued. 

“She’s so smart, I mean, she’s the queen of Belvoire. And you know what they say about queens… they always need a king.” Bea gagged on the line, but it seemed like something Bradley would say. In his supposed alpha male-ness. 

“Really, I wanna say that she stole my breath when I first saw her. That ass, that personality, she was legit perfect.” Bradley repeated as Bea rolled her eyes. “She was like… easily everything.” 

Bea casted a glance over at Poppy, watching her as she spoke the lines. Some of them were obviously not directed to Poppy, but it helped to have a little inspiration nearby. 

“Anyway, Chlo Chloe, I wanna ask… Do you know what girl I’m talking about?” The crowd was still quiet, obviously some of the speech wasn’t very moving, but the response was certainly something to hold breath over. 

Chloe took a moment, glancing around the stage and even into the crowd where she locked eyes with Bea. She nodded silently as she returned her gaze on Bradley. “It’s Poppy right? You’re talking about Poppy Min-Sinclair.” Chloe stated, causing a few gasps to ring in the crowd as Bradley’s face fell. Who knew? The crowd was actually listening. 

Chloe let her hands drop, tears welling in her eyes as she sniffed loudly. “Well have fun with that… that-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, running off the stage in tears as the crowd booed. The DJ grabbed the mic back from Bradley, shaking his head as he turned the music back on, quieting the crowd. 

Poppy, previously grinning like the grinch, was now a fun shade of red as she threw up her hands. “What the hell?! How did that blonde bimbo figure it out?!” Poppy yelled, glaring at Bea who was taking out her earpiece. 

“Not sure, maybe she’s smarter than she looks.” 

“Effing unlikely. Someone must have told her…” Poppy stewed, grabbing her phone from her mini-handbag as Bea shrugged. 

Poppy scrolled intensely, before breaking into a grin, holding up her phone and smiling at Bea. An actually genuine smile. The kind Bea had thought was reserved for puppies and kittens. 

“It doesn’t matter. It worked.” Poppy said as Bea nodded. Sure enough, sitting on the top of the food chain, Poppy’s name was in big bold letters. 

“Congratulations.” Bea said, smiling at Poppy who was still grinning. “I expect you to keep the seat warm for me.” 

Poppy let out a sharp laugh, the sound sending all kinds of waves in Bea’s stomach as she dropped her phone into her handbag. 

She placed the bag on a nearby couch, walking back over to Bea and taking her hand. “We can save that for later… right now, I want you to dance with me.” Poppy stated as Bea quirked a brow. 

The music was much louder now, hard to hear as Poppy led Bea into the center of the club. The two were rather squished in the middle, but Bea didn’t care. Poppy hadn’t let go of her hand once and she was actually… gentle? Surprisingly as she danced along to the music. 

Bea watched her, dancing along quietly as Poppy didn’t seem to have a care in the world. In some way, Bea felt like she was some kind of scientist watching a subject, studying every detail and too afraid to miss one. 

Finally, Poppy paused her dancing, rolling her eyes as she stepped a little closer to Bea. “Do you not know how to dance Hughes?” 

Bea shook her head. She knew how to dance, enough to impress some cute girl in the club, but Poppy could probably teach her a thing or two about New York club dancing. 

Poppy took hold of Bea’s hands, placing them on her hips as Bea’s thumb briefly brushed over Poppy’s exposed skin. She shivered slightly, spinning around so her back was against Bea’s chest. 

“Follow the rhythm Hughes…” Poppy mumbled, dancing to the music as she let her hips grind down against Bea’s. 

Bea smirked, holding Poppy’s hips firmly as she could smell the girl’s scent. A mixture of her perfume, some alcohol, and sweat. Bea hadn’t had a drop of liquor, but she had never felt more intoxicated with Poppy grinding against her. 

The thump of the speakers felt distant as Bea watched Poppy move against her, feeling her small frame fit perfectly against Bea. That was on the bucket list of details to observe. 

When a new song began to play, Poppy spun on her heel, ginning up at Bea who was smiling as well. “Don’t tell anyone Hughes but… I needed you tonight.” 

“We can make a pretty good pair under the right circumstances it seems.” Bea said as Poppy nodded. 

“Well, the nights still young. I think I should reward you just a little for your… service.” 

“I’m listening.” 

Poppy stopped her grinding, but kept close to Bea as she whispered. “How about a girl’s night? I have all these imported products from my cousin in Korea and I’m dying to try them.” 

“You want me to be your guinea pig?” 

“You say guinea pig, I say… too cute not to play with for the night.” 

 Bea didn’t really wait for Poppy to finish her sentence, already nodding as Poppy smiled again. She needed to quit smiling like that. It almost made Bea forget what an awful person she was. 

“Let’s go then.” 

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“SURPRISE!” Tevon and her other employees all yelled as Poppy entered their VIP booth. 

Poppy, wearing an obvious frown and an irritated expression glared at Tevon who gently pushed her to the side. 

“What the hell is this?” 

“It’s a magazine release party! Well, kinda.” Tevon gestured to the group of people. Some photographers, minor editors, reporters, journalists, and of course, the models were all chatting happily as a dorky banner hung from the ceiling commemorating Belle’s next issue. 

“We wanted to surprise you!” One of the models sang out as Poppy sighed. She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand as all her employees danced around happily with the music in the background. 

“I wish you had mentioned this beforehand.” Poppy mumbled as Tevon handed Poppy a glass of something, It smelled like tequila as Poppy frowned. She was not going to get wasted with all of her employees here. 

“It wouldn't be much of a surprise then.” Tevon smiled as Poppy nodded, looking around as she took note of the models who Tevon had said were acting a little too crazy. Standing or rather sitting amongst them was Lana Bennet, looking a little sober versus her colleagues. 

Poppy excused herself, walking over to Lana who immediately perked at Poppy’s approaching form. 

“Oh, hello Poppy. Surprise?” She tried, with little enthusiasm in her voice as Poppy shook her head. 

“It certainly was. Lana, is something wrong?” Poppy asked, taking a seat on the couch Lana was sitting on as the girl bounced her leg. Not only did she look nervous, her eyes were a little puffy too, a little unflattering for a model. 

“What? No, I’m-” 

“Hello everyone!” A voice called through the speaker as all the employees went to gather towards the front where the stage was. Zoey must have been about to perform, but the voice on the speaker was a little more recognizable. 

Poppy stood, as did Lana, as the two walked to the stage where a tall figure was standing in a simple black tee and jeans. Poppy squinted to see, the VIP box they had rented was a little far from the stage as the person continued. Though, she didn’t have to stay in wonder for long. 

“My name is Bea Hughes, but you definitely don’t want to be hearing about me.” Bea joked, the crowd chuckling with her as she looked out over the crowds of people. 

Poppy had guessed it, but she had hoped she was wrong. Where Zoey was, Bea would be and vice versa. 

“I hope you’re ready for an eventful night! Because give it up for my very best friend in the whole world…..the one and only ZOEY WADE!” Bea yelled into the mic, letting it drop as Zoey walked onto the stage as the crowd burst into applause and cheers. She looked absolutely stunning, exactly like a world famous celebrity should look like. 

Bea stepped off, clapping with the crowd as she looked over the scene. Even at a distance, like a magnet, Bea’s eyes seemed to zone in on Poppy, if the shock on her face was any indication. Or maybe it was the model standing beside her, Poppy wasn’t sure. 

Though, she was sure, that It was definitely going to be an eventful night. 

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세계의 끝까지

[rendevousz]

little hacker

avengers x fem!teen!reader

characters: brief clint barton, tony stark, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, peter parker

summary: you hacked into tony's systems and he, along with the team, track you down.

warnings: mentions of death and a car crash, hacking written by someone who has no idea how it works

word count: 3241

note: hi um this is my first oneshot on tumblr i hope you like it!!

you were 14 when you first met the avengers. your family had gotten into a tragic car accident and you were the only one who made it out alive, leaving you in excessive guilt and burden; guilt because you were the only one granted a second chance at life and burden because you had to live your life, barely scraping by as you were dropped the responsibility of taking care of your sick grandmother.

at 11, where all that the kids your age had to worry about was whether their pocket money was enough to get themselves an after-school snack, you worried whether or not the money left to your name was enough to survive.

at 11, where girls worried about their changing bodies and asked their mothers about it, you had to figure it all out yourself and with the help of your trusty laptop, the only gadget you had, one that your dad had gifted to you after you had gotten 100s for all your tests at age 8. he thought you were his little prodigy and figured a laptop would treat you well. you took care of it well because while you didn't want to spend the last of your money left, —that was specifically set aside for your grandmother's hospital bills— you wanted to hold on to the laptop for as long as you could, as a reminder of your loving father, as well as the memories the item held, after you've watched movies with pretty much all of your passed family members on that laptop at different points in your life. that was why whenever the thing lagged due to how much you've been using it, you almost always figure out how to fix it until it was good as new.

at 12, while your classmates had their parents to protect them when they were out at night, you feared for your life whenever you were out past dark. which led you to learning self defence from youtube videos. you learned them pretty quickly and with your sharp-wittedness, you no longer feared to be out at night. you even had the honours of trying out your skills when some men thought they could get you just because you were smaller than them.

at 12, where kids your age were having fun, enjoying their childhood, you had no choice but to be mature and think for the good of yourself and your sick grandmother. you were forced to grow up and you were probably more mature and intelligent than the rest of your classmates combined.

and at 13, you realised that money wasn't going to grow on trees and the money you were left with wasn't going to last forever. it had to last until you were old enough to work. but with your grandmother's condition getting worse and worse, you were forced to drop out of school. you were upset because you loved it. you loved knowledge. but family came first and the only thing that your knowledge increased on was on computers.

which led to you being able to hack into tony stark's bank account at only 14. you had no other choice than to steal money and who better to steal it from than a guy whose pocket change could probably last you another five years or so? you knew who tony stark was, the whole world knows who he is. and you thought that maybe he would be too preoccupied with his alter ego saving the whole world, along with his group of earth's mightiest heroes that he wouldn't notice the tiny bit of money you'd stolen from him.

of course the billionaire had been alerted immediately by his AI when you'd accessed into his systems. "security breach?" he exclaimed, immediately dropping the tool he was tinkering his suit with in his lab.

he spent about 3 minutes, that was how long you took touring around in his systems, observing what you did in it. he watched as you did nothing about the highly confidential information he had and instead, stole....5 grand from his bank account? that was barely a scratch to his account. what was going on?

he had requested FRIDAY to track down the hacker, mainly because he was perplexed that someone had hacked into his well protected system just to steal a tiny bit of money but it seems that even FRIDAY couldn't track down where it came from.

he told the team and it was then that everyone worried how dangerous the hacker could possibly be.

"who steals just 5 grand after hacking into a billionaire's bank account?" clint frowned after tony had explained the whole situation. "i mean, if i managed to hack into your systems, i'd do way more than just steal a couple bucks."

"exactly. and who knows? they might just be waiting for the right moment to install dangerous malware into the system and until we find the culprit, they're roaming somewhere out there with all our confidential information right at the tip of their fingers. if they decide to use it against us..." tony trailed off, for once having a worried expression on his otherwise nonchalant face. he's never been this clueless about what to do with any sort of technical issues concerning the avengers or himself.

you on the other hand, after getting complacent that you weren't caught, kept doing so for the next couple months or so. you had no ill intentions, just trying to scrape by. the whole situation puzzled tony. he didn't care how much you've taken from him in total now, you were right; it was merely pocket change to him. but you were still considered a threat since you had free access to his systems and he didn't even know who you were or where you were.

that was until you made a tiny mistake, one that if tony wasn't spending every waking moment trying to track you down he wouldn't have noticed. and though it was a small mistake, it certainly was going to change how things ran from then on.

that afternoon, after having just gotten back from visiting your grandmother at the hospital, you were planning to get more money from the billionaire's bank account at the comfort of your own home. god, hospital bills were expensive. once you had had a little snack, you settled down on the couch and opened your laptop. but being the quick-witted person you were, before the screen in front of you lit up, you saw movement from behind you.

your heart raced. you could handle fighting people but those usually happened in alleys at nighttime. this was in your home, your safe place. you made sure to lock the doors and there weren't fire escapes outside your windows so how did the intruder get in?

you could tell they were trying to be inconspicuous to get to you and so you let them. you let the person think that they were going to get you without a fight but when they were right behind you, you swiftly turned your body around and jumped over the couch. the masked intruder let out a surprised yelp and the two of you fought for a bit. before you knew it, you had them pinned under you in just ten seconds.

"wha– how– what?" it sounded like a boy. you looked down at him and noticed his red and blue spandex suit. you frowned. wasn't this the friendly neighbourhood spiderman guy or something? why was a superhero breaking into your home?

he was coughing from your knee pressing down onto his chest and you lifted it slightly, enough for him to breathe but not enough to escape. he seemed grateful though because he muttered a seemingly embarrassed 'thanks'.

"get off the kid or i'll blast you off of him myself."

you look up and saw the iron man repulsor aimed right at you, and obviously iron man himself was standing right there in the middle of your small apartment. behind him stood a redhead, who you knew as the black widow, aiming a pistol at you, and a man with a shield, captain america. the spiderboy must've come in through the window and unlocked the door for them.

when you made eye contact with steve, he frowned in confusion. you looked way too young to be the culprit they had expected. he muttered a quiet 'wait, what?' before tony stark revealed himself, his iron man faceplate opening.

"um...kid? where are your parents? or guardian? we need to see them because there's been some highly illegal activity coming from this address." the man in the suit spoke. you stayed still, knee still pressing against the boy under you, frowning at the adults in the room. they noticed your apprehensiveness and slowly lowered their weapons. "we're not here to hurt you, you can release the boy now," steve told you gently.

you usually weren't one to trust easily but since these people were known superheroes, you reluctantly stood up, still anxious of the possibilities of what they could do to you. the spiderboy got up too and dusted his back, before going to stand next to steve. you were confused as to why these heroes were breaking in your home until you remembered what you had been up to for the past weeks. how could you forget when that was the only reason you were still surviving?

your eyes widened with fear when they met tony's soft ones. he looked at you with such care and worry that you were reminded of your late dad. the man in front of you wasn't the arrogant man you've watched on youtube. you felt bad for stealing from him now. you used to think that he deserved it, despite how little you took compared to how much he had. the man knelt down before you so he didn't appear so big in front of you, seeing your frightened expression. little did he know you were frightened for a totally different reason.

"anyone else living here, kid? because i tracked down this address and someone has been stealing money from me. i might need to have a little talk with them." he explained, looking around the house. you fiddled with the hem of your shirt nervously, scared of what would come once you came clean about your actions. you were scared you were going to be taken in for juvenile crime but you were also scared of the consequences of lying straight to their faces. so you took a deep breath before deciding to just tell the truth.

"t–that would be me, sir." you admitted in a small voice, avoiding eye contact with the billionaire you had been stealing from. a few shocked looks from the team and an incredulous 'what?' from tony had you biting the inside of your cheeks in fear.

"i'm truly sorry about that, sir. i..." you trailed off, debating whether or not to justify your actions because you thought that he might not even want to listen to it. "i had to pay off my grandmother's hospital bills because she is very sick. my family died a few years ago in a car crash and i was the only one who made it. i was left some money to my name but having to survive on that along with paying off nana's bills, it was bound to run out. i...i thought that since you were a billionaire, stealing a few thousands wouldn't matter to you...i'm so sorry, sir. i– i'll start working to pay you back.." you stuttered out, holding your hands together so it would minimise the shaking.

tony's mouth opened and closed, like fish out of water, not knowing what to say to you. he stood up and you were on the verge of breaking down right then and there, feeling as small as you did before he knelt before you. "p–please don't report me, sir. i– i don't know what would happen to my nana if you do.. i swear to you that i didn't mess with your other files. i only accessed the system for your bank account and that was it. i have no ill intentions, please don't report me.." you were now the one kneeling down in front of him, begging.

the team were flabbergasted at the scene unfolding before them and tony was quick to get you off your knees, which scared you even more because the death grip of his metal hands on your forearms had your mind running wild at the millions of possibilities of what he would do to you. was he going to kill you and leave you somewhere that people were never going to find your body? or was he going to dispose of you and use his power to remove you permanently from the system so no one came looking for you? he had the power to ruin your life and you feared that.

snapping you out of your mental breakdown, he spoke softly. "hey, it's okay." and that was when you realised the 'death grip' he had on your forearms had only been your paranoia getting the best of you. he was barely even touching you. your teary eyes looked up at his soft, brown ones in fear.

then he smiled at you.

"it's okay. i understand the reason why you did what you did. you're a good kid, your nana is so lucky to have you. what's your name?" he knelt down before you once again, knowing that him standing tall in his iron man suit terrified you. "y/n." you responded timidly.

"how old are you, y/n?" this time, it was steve who asked. you had forgotten that there were other people in the room, too consumed by your fear for your life a few moments ago. "i'm fourteen, mr america, sir." you whispered out, the sight of captain america in person intimidating you until you saw a kind smile on his face.

"you're pretty young to be doing what you've been doing, y/n. are you aware that you're the first person to be able to hack into my heavily protected, supposedly impenetrable network? many have tried to do so and failed, and they were really smart people too. have you been doing this for a while?" tony asked.

"um...my father gifted me this laptop when i was 8 because i did exceptionally well in school. he believed i was a child prodigy and let me have a laptop since he knew my studies wouldn't be affected by the distraction of entertainment. i used to only hack into games to cheat my way up the ranks but only recently i tried something else since i had nothing better to do and i've been out of school for a while now. i knew you were a billionaire so i tried just for the heck of it and surprised myself when i got in on the first try. and then i saw your bank account details and i really needed money so i stole some... again, i'm so sorry about that." you apologised, looking down at your feet.

he couldn't believe it. you were just messing around and you managed to get into his system? you, a mere fourteen year old who was out of school, managed to single handedly do what geniuses around the world had failed to do?

he was initially just going to have a talk with the hacker, and in case they were dangerous and had backup, he brought his own. but bringing steve, natasha and peter proved to be unnecessary when the culprit turned out to be you.

"where did you learn those moves?" natasha stepped closer towards you. you looked up at the redhead, noticing the glare she had on you when she aimed her pistols at you was replaced with curiosity.

you fiddled with the hem of your shirt even more, embarrassed to tell her that you learned to fight from a couple of youtube videos when she had gotten years of actual training. you were pathetic compared to her. "i, um, i learned them from some youtube videos."

her eyebrows raised in surprise at the revelation. you hadn't gotten professional training yet you moved like you had. peter had superhuman strength, agility and endurance yet you took him down in under ten seconds. sure it may have been a disadvantage to peter because he was caught off guard but he should've been able to take you down still.

now was tony going to let the chance of a lifetime slip by? no, of course he was immediately thinking of recruiting you. your dad had been right about you being a prodigy. you adapted to new skills quickly and you were perfect for recruitment.

"hey kid, wanna be an avenger?"

your eyes widened and your jaw dropped in shock. steve immediately turned to him, an incredulous look on his face as he glared dangerously at the billionaire. "stark, you wanna think about this for a minute?"

"thank about what, cap? you saw what she did to the spiderling. and she successfully hacked into my system on her first try and we took weeks to trace her. romanoff back me up here," he saw how impressed natasha was by you and he knew the redhead wasn't going to disagree. "stark's right, steve. she's only fourteen and she's capable of so much already. we need someone like her."

"exactly! she's only fourteen! this life is dangerous for her!" steve argued. peter then tapped his shoulder to get his attention. "hey, mr rogers, i'm a sixteen-year-old avenger and she took me down easily. not gonna lie, it hurt my pride, also my back when you flipped me over your shoulder," he turned to you but you didn't say anything because you couldn't see his facial expression. "but i think she's going to be okay, sir."

steve sighed before turning to you, the defeated expression on his face softening when you looked up at him with your doe eyes and a small smile. you didn't answer to tony just yet since it seemed that steve had a say in it as well but you were dying to say yes. not only were you not going to be reported for your crimes but to be recruited by iron man himself to be an avenger? who could say no to that? not you, at least, since you had nothing better to do with your life at the moment.

"well, what do you say, kid?"

your smile grew and you nodded happily. the team couldn't help but crack a smile at how happy you looked for the first time since they've encountered you.

"well, you should go pack your important stuff so we can go back to the tower. you're going to be moving in if you're an official member of the avengers." tony told you and you nodded, walking towards your room to start packing while the team sat on the couch to wait for you.

"wait, what's going to happen to my nana?" you turned back towards them, worry etched onto you face. "don't worry about it, kid. you can give me the details later and i'll settle it. she'll be in good hands." he assured. "okay." you mumbled in response.

you were actually going to be an avenger. "awesome.." you grinned to yourself as you packed.

[wolferine]

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 4

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture

Word count: 2843

Part 3

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp @phoenixofash @marvels-bitch-boy @when-wolves-howl @bitterlime13 @hallecarey1 @orangewheein @unexpected-character

AN: I apologize if some tags don’t work! Tumblr can’t find some of your usernames.

After listening to Steve’s plan, all four of you—technically five, since Bucky had to tag along—take the Quinjet to Siberia. The goal was to break out the five soldiers in Bucky’s former task force and bring them back to the Avengers Tower, where there was the technology to free their minds from HYDRA. 

Each of you were armed with a mask which would spray a powerful sedative into the face it was applied to, keeping the victim unconscious until it was removed. It was the simplest solution to taking down the super soldiers—when Bucky had been skeptical, Natasha had slapped a mask on him and he was out before he hit the floor. You were pretty sure you pulled a muscle from laughing so hard.

Now, you and Natasha sat in the cockpit while the others sat behind you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Bucky says suddenly.

“Yeah?” You don’t even look over your shoulder.

“I’m…sorry for shooting you.”

“Twice,” you clarify. “I didn’t forget the count.”

“Sorry,” he repeats.

“Well, as long as you don’t mistake me for Steve again, I’ll be okay,” you say with a chuckle.

“So, just to reiterate our plan, Bucky will be with me and Clint, and Nat, you’ll be with Y/N,” Steve says.

“Even Captain America knows better than to break up the power couple.” You grin and reach over to put your hand on her thigh. Without taking her eyes off the controls, she takes your hand and interlocks your fingers.

“Yeah, so you two just do your thing—” Steve catches himself. “Wait, not that kind of thing.”

Clint explodes into wheezy laughter and Natasha shakes her head, her cheeks reddening. You’re not embarrassed like she is, but you’re still quick to defend yourselves.

“It was one time!” you protest. It had been a mission where everything that could’ve gone wrong did, and you and Natasha were convinced it would be your last. You two decided to end it wrapped around each other, but then the rest of the Avengers had barged in and said there had been a miscommunication and it wasn’t the end of the world after all. It was the one mission you would never live down.

“Just keep it professional, please,” Steve begs. “No matter what happens, we’re all going home alive, okay?”

Bucky looks completely lost.

Natasha lands the Quinjet in a flurry of snow and all of you exit the warmth of the plane.

“I should’ve brought one of your hoodies,” she mumbles, walking as close to you as she can without tripping you. 

“It would’ve clashed with your uniform,” you say, putting your arm around her waist. The super soldier serum in your veins causes you to run a higher-than-average body temperature. You feel as comfortable as if you stepped out of hot shower.

The facility is the only building for miles. It looks big enough to fit a space rocket and has a dull, concrete exterior. The only security is a chain-link fence with a frozen padlock that Steve breaks open with his shield. You file through the gate, and Bucky inputs a code into the door to grant everyone entry. The interior is just as disappointing as the outside. Nothing but a maze of concrete halls with metal doors. The ceiling has dripping water stains and an uncomfortably musty, moldy smell hangs in the air.

“I bet you’re really glad you escaped this rust bucket,” you say to Bucky. He only shakes his head.

“Stay alert,” Steve advises. “We’ll split here. Keep us updated on your position and if you find anyone.”

“Copy that.” You and Natasha turn right while the others turn left. She finds a flight of stairs and you follow behind her. You unholster your gun, holding it at the ready by your side. Natasha makes random turns and ignores every room you walk by. You listen intently for any sort of noise that would indicate a person lurking in the shadows, but so far, there’s nothing.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” you ask.

“Do you?” she snaps.

“Hey, I’m just following you.” You back off. Even though you know this is no time to be making jokes, you still can’t help yourself. High-stress situations make you nervous, especially when you’re with Natasha, because anything that could happen to you could happen to her.

When you pass by a room with its door open, you see a large glass tank big enough to fit a human and filled with murky green water. For a reason you can’t explain, you feel yourself drawn towards it and you step into the room, a chill raising goosebumps on your skin. You reach out to touch the tank’s wall and close your eyes.

You’re floating in a tank of your own, tubes running out of your nose, mouth, and down every limb. You jerk around wildly in the water tinged pink with your blood. Your lungs seize for air, but every breath you inhale is wet and salty.

“Shall we go another round?” you hear someone on the other side say.

“Might as well. No pain, no gain, right?” someone replies.

You want to bash your hands against the glass, but you’re too weak to have any control over your movements. You feel a sharp pain in your lower back, at the base of your spine, and your body arches as more drugs are pumped into you. You have no breath to scream with as your body twists in agony. It feels like a fire eating you from the inside out, burning through your bones, and you want nothing more than to wither away to ash...

“Hey.” You jump when you feel Natasha’s hand on your shoulder. “What are you doing in here?”

“Um, I…I thought I heard something,” you lie. Natasha frowns. Like Steve and Bucky, you had been a lab rat yourself, although not to SHIELD or HYDRA. You had been passed around other government agencies—at least, that’s what you think. Most of your memories of that time were fuzzy, which you were fine with. The ones you did remember weren’t worth reliving anyway.

“Y/N.” Natasha looks concerned.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” You don’t want to interrupt the mission with your personal problems.

She knows better than to push you, especially at a time like this. “Okay,” she says, leaving the room. You take a minute to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you see a black-haired woman, shorter than Natasha even, standing in the doorway in the same vest Bucky had worn the first time you met him.

“Hello,” you say, holstering your gun. You’re not going to shoot someone who looks like she’s barely of age. “You must be one of the super soldiers Bucky told me about. Who was your target supposed to be? Romanoff?” you tease.

“Thor.” The woman’s voice is dainty. Her body is literally the size of one of Thor’s arms. There’s no way she’s telling the truth.

You laugh. “That’s cute. But this is no place for a kid,” you say, walking towards her. But she sees that you’re too casual, your guard let down too low, and takes advantage of that. “Now all I need is for you to put this mask on and—”

The woman launches at you with a speed you don’t even process. She swipes your legs out from under you, causing you to crash on your back. Then she’s on top of you, hands around your throat. You reach into your pocket for your knife, all jokes lost with her attempt to take your life.

You flip the blade out and swing at her face, but she’s quick to dodge and rolls to the side. You jump to your feet, wondering where Natasha is. But you’re too embarrassed to call for her help, even if this soldier claims she was given the task of taking out the god of thunder.

The woman is impossibly fast and she lands blow after blow on you while you stagger back and slash out helplessly with your knife. When she kicks you in the stomach and your back collides into the water tank, you’ve had enough. 

You switch your knife to your left hand and aim for the woman’s neck. She grabs your wrist and twists it around so the knife turns towards you. Your eyes widen as she puts her entire body weight behind the knife. The blade sinks into your shoulder.

“What the—” You don’t even register the pain, more upset that you’ve been harmed with your own weapon. The woman grins, distracted, and you punch her in the throat as hard as you can. Her eyes bulge and she coughs, her hands flying to her neck. 

You take the mask out of your pocket and shove it onto her face, hearing the hiss as the sedative is instantly released. The woman immediately goes limp and you have no problem letting her drop to the floor.

“Y/N!” You look up and see Natasha staring at you, arms crossed over her chest.

“I got one.” You puff out your chest proudly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Natasha comes over and inspects the soldier’s limp body.

“I didn’t need to. I handled her all by myself,” you say, a little annoyed by her doubt in your abilities.

“Is that a knife in your shoulder?” she asks.

“I…Oh, yeah—” 

“Is that your knife?” Being called out hurts more than the actual pain of having the knife in your shoulder.

“Uh…maybe…” You can’t even look her in the eye.

“Y/N,” Natasha growls. “Here, let me take it out.”

You back up until you hit the tank again. “Wait, shouldn’t we—ow!” you yelp as Natasha jerks the knife out.

“You’ve been through worse.” She tries to hand you the knife, but you shake your head, too embarrassed to continue carrying it with you since you obviously can’t be trusted with it. She shrugs and pockets your knife, taking out some gauze and tape to patch up your wound. You rotate your left arm in circles; besides an uncomfortable twinge, it works fine. 

“So, what do we do with her body?” you ask.

“We’ll come back. We need to find the other three first.”

“Three? I thought there were four.” You try to do the math in your head. Bucky had said there five super soldiers, and you had just defeated one, meaning there were four left—

“Three,” Natasha repeats and you look at her in confusion. “Mine’s outside.” Unlike you, there wasn’t a single scratch on her. Together, you leave the room and find a man slumped on the floor, a mask on his face.

“When did this happen?” you ask.

Natasha shrugs, but you can tell she’s extremely proud of herself. “When you were busy dealing with that little girl.”

“Excuse me. According to her, her target was Thor,” you say. “So, I just took out the soldier who was supposed to take down the god of thunder.”

“Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that.” Natasha nudges you playfully.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes.

“Hey, are you two okay?” Steve asks in your earpiece.

“We disabled two soldiers on the second floor,” Natasha responds.

“Perfect. We got two down here as well.”

“Who did you take out?” Clint asks.

“This tiny woman and a guy,” you answer.

“How big was the guy?” Bucky asks.

“Maybe around your size?” you estimate, staring down at the soldier Natasha subdued.

“Okay, because the two we took out were also average-sized dudes. The last one—I was hoping it wouldn’t come down to this—he’s an absolute beast. I think he’s almost seven-feet tall and could bench press a plane with one hand,” Bucky says.

“So whoever takes him out wins,” you say. Between you and Natasha, you were certain you could win any fight.

“You’re on,” Clint says.

Natasha and you leave the soldiers where they lay and search the rest of the floor. This time, you take the lead, a little more cautious since you know what to expect. You head up to the third floor, expecting the last soldier to jump out at any moment. The tension of waiting to find him is almost unbearable and your muscles ache from being coiled so tightly.

“You guys find him yet?” Natasha asks through the earpieces.

“Negative.”

Suddenly, a moving shadow catches your eye and you throw out your arm to stop Natasha. A man steps out from around the corner and Bucky wasn’t lying about his size. He’s so tall the top of his head disappears behind the ceiling beams and he looks like he would sweep any bodybuilding competition he entered.

“Never mind, we found him. Third floor,” Natasha mumbles.

“Don’t engage him alone.” That’s Steve’s voice. “Try to stall—”

“Too late” you want to say as the man charges towards you. There is no way you two are taking him down without the use of any weapons; plus, you don’t have any more masks to use. But if you punched or kicked him, you wouldn’t be able to reach his face without catching airtime. You run backwards, fumbling with your options. An idea pops into your head.

“Maybe he has a safe word, too,” you say, crashing into Natasha and shoving her back. “Lizzie! Karen!” you scream the first names that come to you. “It could be a guy’s name—can’t assume anything, right? Chris! Tom! Mark!” The names have no effect other than making you look like an idiot.

“Shut up, Y/N—” Natasha hisses.

The man roars and reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your shirt. He throws you like a javelin and you can’t believe how far you fly, landing on your stomach and skidding another 30 feet.

Natasha tries engaging him, and although she’s faster than him, any punch or kick she lands goes completely unnoticed by him. The man flings her aside like a sack of flour and comes towards you.

You reach for your gun, but before you can bring it up, he kicks it out of your hand and stomps on it. The barrel literally flattens before your eyes, and you roll onto your back to face him. He lifts his foot, which is easily as big as your calf, and brings it down on your right knee.

CRUNCH.

The pain of your leg snapping in half is so blinding and nauseating you don’t even scream. It feels like someone is holding a blow torch to your bones and your entire body starts trembling in shock. The man scoops you up with an arm leveraged underneath your chin, and once you’re upright, you feel the lower half of your right leg dangling like a broken branch.

He lifts you high enough so your feet don’t touch the floor, leaving you scrabbling at his arm and choking on your saliva. Your vision flashes white and you feel the overwhelming urge to vomit as he spins you around to face Natasha.

She has her gun out, pointed at his head. “Put Y/N down,” she orders.

“And what if I don’t?” the man says in a voice that sounds like it came from the depths of the ocean. “You think you can shoot me before I can break a neck?” He squeezes you harder and you whimper.

Natasha pauses to think, and her eyes dart to the side before looking back at the man. “Okay, okay.” She sets her gun on the floor and raises her hands. “Just please don’t—”

“Kick it towards me.” The man crushes your windpipe like a straw and your eyes water.

Natasha reaches out with her foot and sends the gun spinning towards you and your captor. Suddenly, the man tosses you away and when you crumple on your broken leg, you swear you see purgatory. 

“Get on your knees,” the man tells Natasha. She doesn’t obey. “I said, get on your knees!” Very slowly, with a defiant look on her face, she drops to her knees one at a time. The man picks up her gun and holds it in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting years to finally meet you, Agent Romanoff.”

“Well, sorry for not coming around sooner.”

“My comrades may not have been successful in eliminating their targets, but I don’t fail,” the man says.

Natasha looks away from him to you. “I love you,” she calls, as casually as if you two were lounging on the couch watching a movie together.

You blink away tears to make eye contact with her. You can’t move, you have no weapons, and he has a gun pointed at her head. The complete helplessness you feel hurts more than your broken leg, more than Bucky’s gunshots had, more than any pain you’ve ever felt before. There’s a thousand things you want to tell her, but you only have time to say one.

“I love you t—”

But there isn’t even enough time for you to finish your sentence, because suddenly Natasha’s face is covered in blood.

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

Click here for Part 5!

[jackrrabbit]

Sleepless /// Tanjiro x f!reader (18+)

Request: Hi!! I'm not entirely sure on how to request since this is my first time EVER requesting something here on tumblr 😳😳 so im not sure if im doing this right,,,but um,,,,could you do a soft dom! tanjiro kamado x reader nsfw??? (he's aged up of course)

A/N: Y’all I’ve been working on this practically since I made this gd blog…idk why it took so long since I LOVE the concept. Reader is a traumatized bby who just needs her kitty licked  ✊😔 and honestly same

Tags/warnings: soft dom, daddy vibes but without the ‘daddy’ (onii-chan vibes?), brief mentions of past demon violence & PTSD, fluff?, historical inaccuracies probably, reader is implied to be inexperienced, mild overstimulation, lowkey yandere lowkey romantic who knows, all characters are adults

It starts out with little things. Harmless things. Tanjiro sees you barely ate anything at dinner, and later that night he comes to your bedroom with a plate of food for you. “You should eat,” he tells you.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, almost a little petulantly. The food looks good and you know he’s trying to be nice, but you’re not a child. You can take care of yourself, and even when you can’t it’s not his job to do it for you.

“Eat,” he says again softly. It’s not a command. It’s like he already knows you’re going to eat, and he’s just patiently waiting for you to give in.

You pick up the chopsticks and eat the food he prepared for you. All of it. Tanjiro sits there and watches and then when you’re done, he smiles at you and pats your head and takes the plate away. You think it’s weird, but the next morning you don’t question it. He’s a big brother to everyone—doesn’t it make sense that he would want to make sure you’re eating enough?

He probably can’t help it.

You decide you’re going to let it slide, until a few days later after breakfast with him and the others when Tanjiro pulls you aside and holds your face in his hands and tells you you’re looking a little tired lately—are you getting enough sleep?

The truth is that you aren’t. You want to deny it, but somehow you have a hard time lying to him. “I used to sleep with my siblings in our bed, so it’s hard to fall asleep since…” since the demon who made you an orphan murdered them. “And, you know. Nightmares.”

Tanjiro understands. Of course he understands! He used to have five younger siblings, did you know that? Now Nezuko has her own room and the rest…well, you’ve heard the story. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re by yourself, isn’t it? He’s been there.

“How many hours are you sleeping every night? On average?”

You’re trying too hard to ignore the brush of his callused fingertips over your cheekbones, so you tell him the truth without meaning to. “Um, like four hours? On a good day?”

His eyes go wide and suddenly both of his hands are wrapped around one of yours and squeezing, maybe a little too tight. “Is that the truth, (Y/N)? Four hours is too little. Sleep deprivation isn’t good for you.”

“I know, but—”

“No. The next time you have trouble getting to sleep, I want you to come to my room.” You open your mouth to mount a denial, but he frowns and cuts you off. “Promise me. Okay? It’s really bad for your health, so promise.”

And once again, you say yes even though you don’t want to.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine, you think. You’ll just pretend you’re sleeping better. Tonight you’ll lay in bed with your eyes open and stare at the ceiling and try to listen to your own breathing, in and out and in and out, and hope it drowns out the memories that stick fast in your head whenever you’re by yourself. Then when you’ve been laying in the dark for a few hours, you’ll finally fall asleep and all your nightmares will play out in technicolor and you’ll do your best to be quiet so you don’t wake anyone else up and in the morning you’ll splash cold water on your face to make your eyes less puffy and pinch your cheeks to get some color in them and it’ll be fine.

You can take care of yourself. You have to, since everyone else is gone. So you’re not sure why, when the sun goes down and you’re looking into the face of another sleepless night, you find yourself knocking on the door of Tanjiro’s bedroom.

Maybe it’s just that he made you promise. You hate breaking your promises.

He lets you in, the half-asleep affect mixing with the same caring, serene look as always (and it’s a little insulting that he’s not surprised at all). Tanjiro sits on the bed first and you can’t help staring at him in the flickering orange lamplight. He’s more muscular than you remembered, and taller than when you first met. He can play the role of a big brother all he likes, but he’s still an adult. A man. And he’s not family.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you say, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),” Tanjiro murmurs as he lies down, his voice still scratchy with sleep. Somehow it relaxes you. He just has that way about him—when he says it’s okay, it feels okay.

Tanjiro pats the spot on the bed next to him. It looks really warm, and there’s a winter chill in the air even though it’s only September. It’s a bed made for one person, but Tanjiro—ever considerate—has moved over to one side to make space for you.

“Come on. Come sleep,” he instructs in that soft, non-demanding way of his. So you sit down on the edge of the bed and (carefully, carefully, like you’re making your way into a hot bath) fold your legs and pull the covers over you so you’re lying next to him. The bed is even warmer than you thought it’d be. Tanjiro radiates heat—he’s so warm, you think, how fitting—and then before you know it you’re drifting into the first dreamless sleep you’ve been afforded in a very long time.

That first night, you sleep with a good six inches of space between the two of you. You don’t want to touch him, don’t want to cross that invisible boundary—at first. But it doesn’t matter, because every time you wake up next to him, you’re curled up to his side like a puppy seeking warmth. It’s not like he minds. Judging from the gentle smile on his face when he wakes you up in the morning (and tells you that you should go back to your room before anyone notices you’re not there) he likes it.

Never again, you think. No way. But you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in so long, and it’s nice to be well-rested for once, and the next evening you only lie in your bed for fifteen minutes before you’re knocking on Tanjiro’s door again, silently asking if you can take advantage of his kind nature for just one more night.

He says yes. Of course he does. So you sleep next to Tanjiro again, you keep half a foot of space between you again, and you wake up hugging him. Again. And then you do it the next night, and the next night, sleeping beside Tanjiro over and over until you no longer bother trying to leave room between your body and his.

Is this okay? you wonder sometime around the two-week mark. It’s the longest you’ve gone without having nightmares since the demon came. Sometimes you think you’re betraying your loved ones by trying not to think about their deaths; letting yourself off easy while they suffered. You tell this to Tanjiro while the two of you are lying back to back under his blanket, quietly enough that (you hope) if he’s already sleeping you won’t wake him.

He hears you, and he turns around and lays his arm around your waist. “Don’t be silly…of course they wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

“But how do you know?”

“I know.” Tanjiro’s voice is half muffled by your hair, but it’s steady. “You believe me, don’t you.”

You do.

“Don’t think about that anymore.” His hold on your waist gets a little bit tighter, arms a little bit less forgiving.

“I won’t,” you say, hoping that the promise will be enough. The two of you fall asleep like that, and when you wake up in the morning it’s the first time ever that you haven’t moved in the night.

As if it wasn’t enough to be spending every night together, at some point you start to dream about him too. Usually it’ll just be a flash or a snippet that you barely remember once you wake—the reassuring tone of his voice, a smell like a campfire, or a few notes of laughter—but tonight you’re watching him train in the courtyard. In the dream, he moves through his forms with inhuman grace, position to position to position, balanced with perfect agility like he’s a dancer and not a swordsman. With how beautiful it is, you can almost forget the raw power behind his movement, the strength that has subjugated more demons than you care to know.

He pauses to stretch, rolling his shoulders back, and you notice that he’s shirtless (which is how you know it’s a dream). Tanjiro’s arms flex as he raises the blade into position, and the sun shimmers over the thin sheen of sweat on his chest. He looks ethereal like this, and as you sit on the porch and watch him, you feel heat stir inside of you that has nothing to do with the sunlight.

Tanjiro, you call out softly. He looks around to you, deep red eyes resting on yours, and whips the blade down to replace it in its sheath.

Can I come closer? The grass is cool and wet under your bare feet as you pad lightly into the courtyard toward him. You can taste the humid summer air in your mouth. Fingers tangle themselves in your hair, tilting your head up to meet his.

Tanjiro…

“(Y/N)?”

Tanjiro’s voice cuts through the dream and you scrunch your eyes shut, reluctant to leave the dream world where he wants to touch you, not out of pity or because he thinks it’s his duty to take care of you but because he wants to. But it’s too late—his hand is on your shoulder, gently shaking you out of your slumber. “(Y/N)? You said my name.”

“Sorry, I…sorry.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

He kissed you, in your dream. Now that you’re looking at the real version, your cheeks feel warm…and so does that same spot below your belly. Suddenly the room feels uncomfortably hot, and you wish you weren’t trapped under the covers with Tanjiro. You shift your legs to try and get a little more air between the two of you, but the heat persists.

“I think I should go back to my room.” You must be sweating—you feel damp for some reason. He’s too close.

Tanjiro ignores you. “Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“I—you,” you admit. “You were training.”

“And?”

“And…I don’t know. It’s kind of warm in here, isn’t it? I think I’ll just…” You push the cover aside and sit up, but before you can get yourself off the bed, Tanjiro is tugging you back down, holding to the mattress so he can hover over you in that way he likes.

“Tell me,” he says to you, voice as firm as it is gentle. Sleep-mussed locks of red hair flop over his forehead but his face is serious, and you can’t look away.

“You kissed me,” you whisper.

That takes him by surprise. You can tell by the way his eyes widen, but his hold on you doesn’t ease up. You want to die. Why did you say that? He’ll think you’re disgusting, sleeping next to him in his bed and having perverted dreams about him. Why couldn’t you have just lied? Why can’t you ever lie to him?

“I’m going back to my bedroom.” You try to project more confidence than you actually feel, but there’s no use. Tanjiro doesn’t seem like he’s going to let you get away from him any time soon.

He’s straddling your body carefully, one elbow folded next to your head while his other hand comes up to stroke your cheek. “Your face is all red.”

“You’re…you’re too close.”

“I don’t think I’m close enough. You have goosebumps, look...” Tanjiro folds up the sleeve of your sleep shirt, exposing your arms to view. “…here…and here, too…”

His hands are wandering further down to the hem of the shirt, pushing it up so slowly and gently that you’re not even sure it’s happening until you feel him stroking over your belly. It’s true, you do have goosebumps. It feels like every hair on your body is standing on end. “Tanjiro…?”

“I guess you haven’t been able to touch yourself, since we’ve been sleeping together. That kind of repression is bad for your health. Even I’ve been a little…frustrated.”

Your mind has to work overtime to understand what he’s telling you as he strokes over your stomach and onto the sensitive skin of your sides, and then up to the flesh covering your ribs. His thumb teases over the underside of one of your breasts for a second, but the shock must have shown on your face because he retreats immediately.

“I’m not. I’m not frustrated,” you say, knowing he won’t believe you.

Tanjiro shakes his head in dismissal. “I don’t think that’s true, (Y/N).”

What are you supposed to say? Of course it’s not true. But admitting that you’ve been feeling heated around him lately would ruin everything, so refuse to say it. “I…I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say it. Can I prove it to you?”

What does he mean? Your head jerks up and down in acquiescence. You barely have to wait a moment before Tanjiro’s hands are slipping down your sides to the waistband of your pants and tugging them down over your hips. A tap on your hipbones prompts you to lift your hips and let him remove the clothing, not that you know why you’re complying so blindly.

Just like you always do.

Is he still trying to take care of you? Putting himself in a caretaker’s role because he thinks you need him? This is going a little far, too far maybe, but you can’t deny you want this. The heat of his body is no longer stifling—instead, it feels like it’s pulling you into him.

When your pants are out of the way, Tanjiro reaches into your underwear and dabs against your slit. It’s not until you feel his finger sliding between the puffy lips of your cunt that you realize how wet you are…and of course he can feel it too. Your knees jerk together to try and push him away from you but he’s unfazed, his touch steadily becoming more intrusive as he seeks out the syrupy dampness from your pussy.

“What am I feeling right now? I want you to tell me.”

“You’re—you’re touching me?” you gasp out.

“And you’re all wet. You can’t tell me you haven’t been frustrated when you’re getting this wet with just my fingers.” At this, you feel him prodding deeper into your pussy and stretching you open.

“Nn—okay, fine! Fine!” The words come out of you in a rapid burst, and you finally muster up the resolve to push Tanjiro away from you by his shoulders. “I’ll go back to my room and deal with it, okay? You don’t have to do it for me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can trust you to take care of this problem by yourself. You’ve been lying to me about your needs.”

You wish he wasn’t able to be so calm while you feel like your entire face is on fire. He pulls his hand out of your panties and backs up on the bed so his torso is framed between your legs. “Can you let me help you, (Y/N)? Let me take care of you.”

You lick your lips without realizing you’re doing it, and Tanjiro’s eyes follow the motion. You can barely comprehend what he’s asking. You want it. You want his hands on you; you want to be taken care of in the way he’s offering. But whether or not you can actually ask for it is another story. “Tanjiro…”

“You need this. I know you do.” He skims his palm over your bare thigh in a soothing motion that, oddly enough, puts your barbed nerves a fraction at ease. “I want you to be honest with me about what you need.”

It’s too much. The warmth of his body so tantalizingly close to yours, his shadowed eyes searching yours for a response you don’t know how to give him…and the sticky mess in your panties. Tanjiro’s giving you a free pass to get something you’ve wanted for longer than you can comfortably admit to yourself, and you’re not sure you could deny him if you tried. What can you tell him except the truth? “I want you. I need you.”

“Good girl. See how good it feels to be honest?” Tanjiro bows down and mouths over your pussy through the wet spot on your panties.

It’s not the honesty that feels good, you think as his tongue pads at you through the fabric.

Too impatient to wait another second to taste you, Tanjiro nudges your rear up and slides your panties down your legs. As soon as you kick the undergarment off your feet, he’s pulling your thighs back apart and curling his thickly-muscled arms around them to hold you securely as his head dips back down to your bare pussy. He wastes no time in laving his tongue over your slit and up to the button at the top.

The sensation of this hot, wet muscle pressing up against your most private area is…weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt anything like this—to be honest, you don’t even know exactly what Tanjiro’s doing. When you think about what’s actually happening on this bed—your (friend? partner? bedmate? crush?) ally has his mouth angled between your legs and is licking your pussy—you think you might spontaneously combust. You’ve never felt anything like this before, and however strange the feeling is, you’re more than aware of your hips grinding up toward Tanjiro just so you can feel more of it.

“Here, let me help…” Tanjiro effortlessly lifts you to place a pillow under your lower back, and then moves back down to continue his relentless licking, this time at a new angle that allows him full access to every millimeter of your raw cunt. He’s eating you out like your pussy is the last meal he’ll ever have.

And how can he help it? You taste so good, so sweet on his lips and over his tongue. You must have been in so much pain lying next to him every night with your desire leaking out between your thighs. Just thinking about is making heat rise low in his groin, and his grip on you is getting tighter by the second. How awful that you tried to keep this to yourself…it was remiss of him not to realize before tonight that you needed him so badly.

But it’s going to be alright, because judging from the muffled noises you’re making, every swipe of his tongue licking up your slit is more than making it up to you.

You probably don’t realize how much your hips are wiggling under his minstrations. He barely has to exert any effort to keep you still, but the way you keep trying you push yourself closer to him is enticing, not to mention the way you’re trying (and failing) to keep your voice down through your moans.

“Tanjiro…T-Tanjiro,” you whimper. It’s like you can’t think of anything except for his name. All of your attention is focused on the pressure building up deep in your core, each stroke of his tongue over your clit taking you higher and higher. You feel tense…wound up so tightly that you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from letting the shallow puffs of air turn into full-fledged cries.

Just like that, please, please… You think the words rather than saying them, even though you want to. It’s too humiliating to be begging Tanjiro for more while he’s already giving you more than you deserve, but it’s almost like he heard you anyway, because his tongue writhes down across your clit again and your back arches up off the bedspread.

Your thighs twitch around his head, trying involuntarily to hold him down. He just chuckles and keeps you firmly in place, and his voice hums out over your pussy making feel even more wild. “Please, I’m—I’m cumming…” Your voice trails off and you crush the heels of your palms into your face to cover up your expression while the wave of pleasure hits you so hard you think you might faint.

Tanjiro doesn’t stop. You’re crying out in whimpers so high-pitched he can barely hear them, but he doesn’t stop. The delicate muscles in your pussy are throbbing under his tongue, but he doesn’t stop licking until you’re almost crying, panting out “it’s too much it’s too much, please Tanjiro” and pushing his head away with your hand.

When he finally pulls away, his hair is tangled and disarrayed from where you’ve been running your hands through it, and his mouth and jaw are shining wet. Tanjiro licks his lips and if you didn’t feel shaky before…you do now.

It takes a second for the power of thought to return to you, but when it does you just sigh weakly and flop back down onto the bed. Tanjiro’s next to you before you hit the pillow, and he grips your jaw with one hand to angle your head to meet his, and—

He’s kissing you. He’s actually kissing you. His lips are surprisingly soft over yours, but as usual there’s an unnecessary degree of pressure attached to the contact that has you sinking deeper into your blankets under his force. You can detect the lush, slightly bitter taste of your arousal coating the inside of his mouth as his tongue (skillful as ever) traces over yours. Tanjiro is kissing you, and it’s a hundred times better than any dream you could come up with on your own, so you kiss back.

It takes him a long moment to break the kiss, long enough that your lungs are pleading for air by the end of it. When his lips leave yours, a thin trail of saliva connects the two of you until it breaks and drips down your chin.

“Tanjiro…” You search for the right words, but what are you supposed to say at a time like this? “I…what did we just do?”

“Shh, don’t worry.” Tanjiro leans in again, this time just to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to take good care of you, okay?”

You take a moment and then duck your head into a nod. It doesn’t make any sense—how does he do that?—but once he says it’s okay it always is.

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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[itzyourgirlnat]

Caught in the act

Being Kara and Lena’s daughter was...let's say it was complicated. You always had everything that you could possibly need and your family loved you so much. However, it wasn't all perfect. Kara was almost like your best friend, you both watched movies, went flying, cuddled almost ALL the time and told each other everything. Sadly, you hadn't seen each other a lot recently.  You obviously don't blame her cause she was probably also dying to spend time with you. But, between Supergirl (who was very needed lately) and Catco she was always busy. It's surprising how you two live in the same house but only have a full conversation every three or four days. Lena, on the other hand, also hasn’t been very available. And, again, it's not her fault. L-Corp is growing even more and has many projects going on so she’s always in her office.

Even if you miss them, you never ONCE complained. It wouldn't be that bad if you hadn’t fallen into a routine, not spending much time with them became a habbit. You obviously talked to them (cause you live together) but about basic things and you simply stopped mentioning things about school and your private life. Your life went on, without your mothers knowing about it. And then the unexpected happened, you were in volleyball practice when she walked in. She was new and had just joined the team, somehow Rao blessed you and the coach asked you to show her around. Two weeks later you were somehow dating. Honestly, you can’t even believe it, you weren’t popular and didn't have many friends (the Luthor name made things harder for you) but Zoe saw you.

 Anyways, all that happened...and you just, kinda, didn't tell you moms anything about it. IN YOUR DEFENSE they were both very busy lately and honestly, they were already very protective and so you just didn’t say anything.

It was all going on well until one day. You were on a date with Zoe, you had gone to the library to study a bit and then you grabbed some food and simply walked around. You then accompanied her to her house but before going in she turned around and kissed you.

‘even if I love this, your parents could see us’ you said.

‘They are not home yet’ she said

‘Well in that case’ you slowly kissed her.

Zoe’s parents did not see you, what you didn’t know was that both Kara and Lena were in their car on their way home…

‘ We really have to make a change’ said Kara while looking through the window.

‘I know honey’

‘I just hate having such little time with her! What if she drifts apart from us and stops telling us things!’ Kara huffed. Lena grabbed her hand and squished it softly.

‘That won't happen, look, we have been very busy lately but, we are not anymore and we will spend time together like we used to. Besides it hasn't been that long and if something big had happened she would have told us’

‘Yeah you’re probably right’ Kara turned again towards the window. That's when she saw it. You kissing a girl who after hugging you and kissing your cheek entered a house.

‘OH MY RAO’

What?!’

‘It’s Y/N!’

‘Kara what is it?!’

‘She was making out with a girl!’

‘WHAT?!’

*******************************************************************************************

After saying goodbye to Zoe you walked to your house. Everything seemed perfect at that moment: the sun was shining, there were flowers everywhere and you had just had one of the best afternoons of your life. However it all changed once you got home. You opened the door and both of your moms were on the couch. They weren't talking or doing anything in particular, they were waiting for you. Oh no, this can’t be good

‘Hi guys’ You walked towards the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water

‘Hi baby’ Kara stood up and walked towards you. 

‘How was your day?’ Lena who wasn't too far away asked

‘Great, I had a study session and it went way better than I had expected’ 

‘Oh we know ’ Kara said. Lena immediately hit her on the arm

What?’

‘Oh well nothing’ 

You walked towards them and raised an eyebrow at them

‘Soo, what did you study?’ Kara asked, trying to change the topic

‘Algebra’

‘Oh, I didn’t know a part of algebra consisted on literally making out with a girl for five minutes’ Lena mumbled

‘What!’

‘We were, we kind of...we coming home when we...we saw it’

‘Oh my god’

You turned around embarrassed. Out of everything that could have happened it had to be that.

Lena walked towards you with her arms crossed

‘So, who is she?’

‘Um no one, just you know, a friend’ 

She looked at you right in the eye. Well nothing could be worse than this could it?

‘I met her at school, she was the friend of a friend and one day we just crossed paths. She was failing french and I offered my help’

Lena laughed softly ‘She asked for help with french and you kissed her. Why am I not surprised?’

‘Don’t laugh! She’s really nice and smart’ You were now blushing

‘For how long have you been together?’ Kara asked

‘Not much, just um, a couple of months or so’ You avoided looking at her.  Even if it didnt seem like it, Kara was incredibly overprotective with you.

‘A couple of months?!’ Oh no, this is not good.’WHAT DO YOU MEAN A COUPLE OF MONTHS?’ 

‘I mean 60 days or so’ you said sarcastically

‘Why didn't you tell us?!’ she runned towards you

‘Well I…’ You looked at Lena who immediately rose her brow

You took a deep breath

‘It's just that I, i don't know, at first I thought it wasn't a serious thing, but the it suddenly was and you were both really busy and I was kind of scared and I just, i guess I made excuses to not tell you’ You were ashamed and looked down

‘Baby’ Kara held your hand. ‘We know that we haven't been around much lately and we are really sorry, but you don't have to be afraid, not of telling us things’

‘Yeah, because we really wanna know what's going on in your life’ Lena added

’I’m sorry’

Kara hugged you

‘Don't be Y/N, it's kind of our fault, but please tell us what’s going on in your life’

Lena hugged you too and know you were between them

‘Yes please tell us and we promise that it is the most important thing for us, more than work and anything’ she said

You all stood there just enjoying each other's touch since it had been long since you had all hugged properly. 

‘So tell us, how is she?’ Lena asked breaking the hug

You then spent the whole night talking about Zoe and the other things that had happened in your life, and finally, you felt at home.

The end

Ok so I wanna thank @supercorpkid who inspired and ecouraged me to write and @gleamylix who also helped:)

If you have any request feel free to tell but (but I’m new to tumblr so im not sure how this works yet, have mercy )

[krisingtons]

So I got a sick!Izuku cared for by powered All Might request a while back from @nanami85240 that I've been hanging onto for a while. For reasons, I don't normally write powered Dadmight, but I took a stab at it! I felt like it fit Tumblr a bit better for no particular reason, so enjoy!

He's Fine

(Dadmight Sick fic)

Something’s off about Midoriya today. All Might can tell.

He’d grown accustomed to his protege’s moods and abilities over the course of their ten months of training. The boy has an excess of spirit, a spirit that will serve him well as a hero but causes problems as a hero in training. If only All Might could get Midoriya to pace himself on his own rather than needing to readjust his regime again. And again. And again.

So All Might can tell that something is off about Midoriya today. To the untrained eyes of his new classmates, nothing seems amiss. They continue the exercise All Might set for them in Heroics as if everything is fine, thinking only ahead to the upcoming Sports Festival in their determination and not behind to the disastrous USJ attack.

The attack that almost took All Might and Midoriya both.

All Might had been right that he could only hold his powered form for an hour after that, although if he didn’t fight at all in it, he could maybe stretch it to an hour and a half. It was a stretch, but he did it for the citizens, the students. For his successor.

So when All Might sees Midoriya’s sluggish movements and his glassy eyes, unnoticed by his classmates, All Might sucks in his gut even more, determined to keep his protective armor on.

Now he wears it for him and Midoriya equally.

Had he noticed the problem a split second earlier, All Might would have had the sense to stop the exercise and pull Midoriya out to assess the situation. But he’s still new to teaching and he still wants to encourage his student’s spirit and he still doesn’t want to single Midoriya out, so he hesitates. And that moment of hesitation is all it takes for the boy to collapse on the field, much to the surprise of the other students.

“Shit,” All Might mutters. He leaves the observation booth in a leap and lands right at Midoriya’s side. The boy pants heavily, attempting to lift himself up with his newly-muscular arms but fails spectacularly.

“What seems to be the problem here, young Midoriya?” All Might hears himself boom as his mind whirls with concern. Is anything broken? Is he dehydrated? Does he have cuts? Did someone hit him too hard? Midoriya once fell off a pile of trash during their training, and although the situation now seems much less dire than that, the concern All Might feels has somehow only grown stronger.

When the boy attempts to speak, perhaps to say, “I’m fine” but in a way that indicates he clearly is not fine, All Might leans over his small, fragile body to keep prying eyes away. “It’s okay, young Midoriya, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, quieter than he normally speaks in this form. Before he can question himself, before he remembers that UA has designated medical robots to take students to the infirmary, he scoops up Midoriya into his arms. It poses no strain at all, really, even if he’s been in this form for forty-five minutes already, but he notices how much stockier his successor has become since the time he fell off the trash.

“Alright, class, keep going with the exercise! Young Iida, watch over everyone for now.” Before anyone can question it, All Might leaps into the air and is gone.

He’s at the infirmary in no time, but to his dismay, he doesn’t see Recovery Girl right away. With a cough, he adjusts himself to keep the hold on his muscular form, not wanting to drop it yet. Not yet.

All the cots are open, so he sets Midoriya down on the one by the window. He’s been here enough to know that Midoriya prefers that cot, and knowing that sends a jolt of guilt through All Might. His successor has been here far too many times already. Now, though, it’s not through his heroics but through… what? All Might still doesn’t know.

Midoriya groans as he blinks his eyes open, peering about the room. All Might finds a cup and a pitcher of water, pouring it for the boy and handing him the glass.

“Here. Have some water and tell me what’s going on, young man.” Midoriya blinks a few times, takes the cup from All Might’s large hand and has a sip. He sits up, then stares down at the bed with a flush on his face. Before Midoriya can say anything, All Might brings a large hand to the boy’s forehead and frowns.

“You have a fever,” he says flatly. Midoriya’s face falls, as if he knew that already. “Be honest, young Midoriya: did you know you had a fever when you came to class today?” The boy flinches.

“I… kind of woke up feeling bad. But I didn’t think I had a fever, I swear!” the boy cries, his wide eyes pleading to All Might. “I felt fine most of this morning, but I don’t know, the heat was just a lot. I’m fine, I swear!”

“You’re not fine,” All Might scolds, causing Midoriya to shrink a bit. “You passed out in the middle of a training exercise. What if that had been a real battle, young man?” What if that had been the USJ? All Might thinks.

“I’m- I’m sorry, All Might. You’re right.” Midoriya says this in a way that indicates he’s not so sure if he believes All Might is right, but he’s also not yet at the point of refuting his hero. Then, his face scrunches up in confusion as he looks up at All Might. “Um, should you still be holding your hero form like that? I don’t want to make you use your time limit,” he whispers. All Might shakes his head.

“Nonsense, young Midoriya! You’re not feeling well, and that means I’m still on the job, so of course I’d still be a hero! Besides,” he adds in a lowered voice, “we don’t know who might come back with Recovery Girl whenever she returns, so it’d be best to not risk it.”

Midoriya nods as if that makes sense, but All Might knows that’s not the full truth of it. He doesn’t admit this, not even to himself, but as he stares at his successor in this cot, his mind flashes to him bandaged and broken after the USJ. All Might’s insides turn at his recent conversation with Tsukauchi and the implication of who created the nomu, and what that means for the boy lying in this bed. All Might’s mind whirls with all the dangers that could befall this boy before him, this boy he chose for these dangers, and the longer he knows him, the heavier the dread becomes at what could befall him.

So, All Might can stay in this form a little while longer. He needs to be ready to protect his student. He’ll protect him this time.

All Might’s pulled from his thoughts when he sees Midoriya almost drop the half-full cup of water, his eyes falling closed. His smile feels a little less strained at the sight of it, a little more genuine. It feels strange, but nice, to hold a genuine smile in this form.

“Young Midoriya, lie down. Go ahead and rest until Recovery Girl returns.” As Midoriya curls up on his side, All Might grabs the blankets and another pillow from one of the other cots. He sets the pillow gently by the boy’s arms, which prompts the kid to grab it and hold it close. Then, All Might draps the extra blankets over him. He shivers when they make contact, then settles into the bed. Soon enough, he’s asleep.

All Might pulls out his phone and calls Aizawa.

“Aizawa, it’s All Might. I need you to watch Class 1-A for me for the rest of Heroics. Midoriya came down with something and Recovery Girl isn’t back yet to check on him.” He pauses as he listens to the voice on the other end. “No, no, I’ll stay here,” All Might assures his colleague. “The class already has their assignment, so they just need someone to spot them. There’s no sense in us both moving around when I’m already here. Besides, there’s not much time left.” After begrudging agreement from the fellow teacher, he ends the call with a, “Thank you, Aizawa.”

After he ends the call, it still takes a while for Recovery Girl to come back. Later, All Might realizes that he’s held his hero form for longer today than he had since the USJ. But he’s fine, he feels fine. He doesn’t think much of it at all, honestly. He’s only watching the boy in the bed, the boy who was too stubborn to stay home when sick, the boy that All Might knows will be a wonderful hero someday.

But for now, since he can, All Might will stay vigilant over his boy. For now, he’ll ignore the fact that young Midoriya has become “his” boy somewhere along the way. For now, he’ll pretend like he’d react the same way with any student. And for now, he’ll silently hope that Midoriya feels better soon, not wanting him to hurt any more.

[lokifantasies]

Her Decision PART 3

Summary: Jade and Loki have lunch, and Jade realizes she knows what she needs to do.

A/N: There will be one more part posted tomorrow! <3

Character(s): Loki, Jade, & Reader

Read the Mischievous Life series here!

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Jade and Loki sit in his car – the sixteen-year-old has just gotten out of school, and as he promised, Loki is standing by his daughter – supporting her decision.

"You're not gonna ask me if I'm sure?" Jade's voice shakily asks as she looks towards the parked car in front of her.

Loki shakes his head. "You know yourself better than I...but if you want my honest, cross my heart, opinion, I'll give it to you."

"Please," Jade gasps – tears in her eyes as she turns to look at her father.

Loki holds his daughter's cheek in his right hand – giving her a sad smile as her blue eyes plead for him to speak. "You're making the decision that I would've."

"Mom won't be mad?" Jade asks – desperate to know that you and Loki are keeping your promise to support her.

"No, my love," Loki insists. "Your mom told you that she wished she could be here, but you know she can't...being stuck on bed rest."

Jade nods – trying to get Loki's words to stick in her head. Taking a deep breath, Jade opens the passenger side door. "Let's go."

The father and daughter walk towards the building – walking up the six steps. Loki opens the door for his terrified daughter – staying close to her so that she feels safe. Loki and Jade reach the front desk where they are given the paperwork to fill out for a walk-in. With her hand shaking, Jade fills out the paperwork the best she can, and when she gets to the reason for visit line, she quickly scribbles her answer – wanting to get this over with.

After turning in the paperwork, Loki and Jade wait until her name is called. Trying to distract herself by scrolling through her Tumblr proves to be useless – her thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. When a woman finally walks up to Jade to let her know it's her turn, she instantly looks to her dad.

"Ca-can m-my dad um...come?" Jade nervously and quietly asks.

The woman smiles nicely to the two. "Absolutely," she agrees.

Jade breaths a sigh of relief – grabbing Loki's hand as soon as they stand up.

"I'm right here, my love," Loki softly reminds Jade – placing a kiss on the side of her head.

The father and daughter are led into an office – the door is closed while they wait for the doctor to come in and speak with them. Luckily, it doesn't take long, and the doctor has a friendly demeanor – doing little to relax Jade.

"Hello, Jade," the doctor greets the terrified teenager. "My name's Doctor Sealey."

"Uh...h-h-hi," Jade stutters – immediately looking over to her dad and begging with her eyes for him to do the talking.

"Loki," the god introduces himself. "Jade's father."

"It's nice to meet you both," she nods to the two. "So, do you know how far along you are?"

"Six weeks and three days," Jade answers quickly in a mumbled voice.

Doctor Sealey looks to Loki for some sort of answer. "It's a...it's a long story," Loki says – not wanting to throw Jade's business out.

"I was kidnapped and raped six weeks and three days ago," Jade blurts out to the doctor. "I'm here because I can't have this baby...I can't have his baby, so can we please skip the pleasantries and get on with it?" Jade closes her eyes and exhales when she hears the silence – her father and the doctor having nothing to say. "I'm, l-look, I'm sorry," she apologizes with tears in her eyes. "I j-just need to move on with my life."

The doctor does as Jade asked, and she gets them through the assessment as quickly as possible. When she leads them to the sonogram to make sure she's less than ten weeks, Jade refuses to look at the monitor – choosing instead to hide her face in her dad's side – clutching onto him for dear life.

"Perfect," Doctor Sealey announces to Jade – prompting her to release her father and put her shirt down once the gel is cleaned off her skin. Loki and Jade arrive back first in the office, and they wait for a nervous few minutes for the doctor to come back. When she does, she has two pill bottles in her hand and a paper with handwritten instructions. "Okay, Jade," she says as she sits back down. Loki and Jade turn their attention completely to the doctor. "Because you're under ten weeks, we can do a simple, non-invasive, medical abortion," she begins to explain. "I have the instructions written down for you, but it's extremely simple." Jade nods her head – feeling more of the weight beginning to lift off her shoulders. "Whenever you're ready, after you leave here, you'll take this first pill," the doctor starts to explain. "Afterwards, about five hours later, you'll take this second one."

Jade nods quietly – not believing that she's going to do this, but she knows she has to. She knows there's no way she can provide the kind of life that a baby...her baby deserves. She also knows herself well enough to know that she'd be unable to give them up for adoption if she carried to term. Jade had zoned out once Doctor Sealey gave her the instructions, but when Loki and Jade get back to the car, Loki sits the two bottles in the cup holders.

"Am I a bad person?" Jade tearfully asks her dad, who turns in his seat to face her.

"No, sweetheart," he tells her. "You're one of the strongest people I know." Loki wipes away a tear from his daughter's cheek. "I envy your strength...your courage...you're my daughter – you're my flesh and blood, and I don't expect this to be easy for you...neither does your mother, and we'll be there right beside you every step of the way."

"Don't cry, daddy," Jade begs – wiping away Loki's tears that roll down his cheeks – causing his ocean-blue eyes to glisten. "Please stop crying."

Loki shakes his head – taking a deep breath and holding Jade's forehead to his own – holding her face in his hands. "I know that everything seems so dark and never-ending, but I promise you, my love, that we'll come out of this – this darkness will end, and the light will shine on us again."