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dollslayer · 3 years ago

Note

For the drabble challenge: Bucky Barnes / He took the last treadmill

Gains

Bucky Barnes x Reader, No Powers AU Summary: Bucky Barnes has stolen the last treadmill and with it, the last shred of your patience. W/C: 2k Warnings: Smut, swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex A/N: I wrote this for @syntheticavenger's 5k How it started/How it's going celebration/challenge!! I know it's been a minute since I've written anything but if you liked this please comment/reblog! Main Masterlist

How it started -

You heaved a heavy sigh as you finally got into your car. Looking at the clock on your dashboard you noticed it was nearly 11pm. You were fresh off of a late night at the office that ended with you being chewed out in the boardroom for someone else’s mistakes and desperately needed to release all your pent up rage. You can’t run away from your problems but you can damn well try at the gym.

You reached for the door but before you could reach it a large hand was pulling the handle and holding the door for you. The hand lead to a thick forearm with veins trailing up to perfectly sculpted biceps. You peered up at the owner of the sculpted arm and found it belonged to maybe the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He has crystal blue eyes and pillowy lips curved slightly into a grin. Strands of shoulder length hair are falling out of the small bun he’s tied it into and into his face.

You didn’t realize you’d stopped midstep, leaving him waiting on you to walk through the entryway. Quickly looking away with a huff of small embarrassment you muster a small thank you and pick up the pace towards the locker rooms. You were suddenly feeling nervous at the realization that you’d have to work out in front of him but the thought of him in less clothing was appealing enough to distract you.

You’d figured given the hour that the gym wouldn’t be so busy but looking around it was teeming with activity. As if your day couldn’t be any more annoying, one lone treadmill stood open so you hustled to the locker rooms to change so you could claim it.

Just as you were about to put your phone in your locker and head out you were bombarded by a slew of work emails, making you furious all over again. Anger refueled, you set off with new determination for the treadmill. Just as you were about to enter the main gym area the same guy that held the door open for you was headed in the same direction. Smiling, you held the door open for him this time with a small laugh, which he thanked you for before bounding off.

His huge stride was heading in a direction that was giving you a bad feeling. You tried to fastwalk past him, hoping that you could beat him there but before you could touch the rails he was stepping onto the last fucking treadmill. You came to a stop with a look of disbelief and he looked over his shoulder and smirked at you.

“Somethin’ wrong, doll?”

“No,” you scoffed before walking away towards the ellipticals.

With the state of your temper right now you didn’t trust yourself not to blow up on him. You tell yourself that the gym asks people to only use equipment for a certain amount of time, someone’s bound to get off soon. You were breaking a sweat but it wasn’t really releasing all the built up tension you had like running would. Glancing over you spy one open treadmill, but of fucking course the only one open is next to him.

Heaving a sigh you turn up your music and step up to the treadmill intent on ignoring him. His head turns slightly towards you and out of the corner of your eye you spy a smirk. You roll your eyes and up the pace, hoping to block out the rest of the world for a bit.

You let yourself get lost in the workout and finally felt some of your frustrations melt away. When you’d reached your limit and got off you looked around and realized that the man was gone, so was most everyone else. Checking the time you noted it was nearly 2 AM and you figured you’d better call it a night if you were ever going to deal with the shit show that awaited you tomorrow morning at the office.

Walking back to the locker rooms the man from earlier was passing you on his way out and gave you a mischievous grin.

“I steal your treadmill back there, doll?” He asks playfully.

“Don’t let it happen again” You say jokingly with a small smile, still slightly annoyed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He chuckles, “Have a good night.”

You wish him a good night as he walks on past you, notes of his body wash hitting your senses. As annoyed as you’d been you definitely wouldn’t mind running into him again.

Another week or so had gone by and another fiasco at work had erupted. You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take but you’d made a habit of running at the gym whenever shit went down at work. You’d yet to run into the handsome stranger again but he’d probably just distract you anyway so it was for the better.

You’d opted for lifting light weights and in doing so, you’d completely missed Man Bun just across the room. You’d forgotten that you wanted to run. You got up and turned towards the treadmills. You had stepped forward just in time for Man Bun to take the last. Fucking. Treadmill. Again. Your jaw actually dropped a little and didn’t try to conceal your scoff.

“Come on!” you even stamped your foot a little. After the time you’ve been having at work all you’d wanted was to let off some steam but here he was again with his cocky attitude treating it like a joke.

He actually stopped the treadmill and turned around, a toothy grin proudly on display.

“I did it again, didn’t I? Don’t worry I’m sure someone else will be off soon”

How it’s going -

Your back met the cold tiles of the shower as he pushed you back with a harsh kiss. His lips caught yours, stealing your moans as his large calloused hands ran their way down your curves. You focused your efforts on pushing down his sweats, his cock springing free from its confines.

“No underwear? How presumptuous” You ask against his lips with a smile.

“What can I say? I was feeling lucky”

He hooked his fingers in your leggings and pulled them down. You hastily stepped out of them and worked to remove your top, leaving you in only a sports bra and your panties. He paused for a second before taking your panties in his fist and snapping them in one go. You gasped, slightly shocked but it just turned you on further.

He was to the point in what he wanted, his fingers finding your core and sinking right in. Your moan turned into a whimper as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting you right in your G-spot. You were feeling small under him, his perfectly toned chest proudly on display and his biceps bulging as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

The pleasure you were feeling in this moment had you in disbelief that you’d ever been hesitant of him when he cornered you earlier.

By the time you’d finally gotten done with your run you’d realized everyone had petered out, even Man Bun. You reckoned it was time for you to head out too. It was kind of eerie being alone in the gym so you wanted to shower and get out as quickly as possible.

As you were about to push the door open a familiar, large hand covered yours. You could feel his body heat and smell whatever soap he’d used, that’s how close he was. You turned around and he kept his arm outstretched past you, you were practically in his arms.

Your eyes met his and you let out a shaky breath, you weren’t really sure what to make of the expression on his face. You raised your eyebrows in waiting.

“Just wanted to apologize, for takin’ your treadmill and all. Seems to be a habit of mine, huh?”

“I’m starting to think you meant to.”

“I gotta admit, I saw you gunnin’ for that treadmill and I wanted to beat you there. What do you say I make it up to you?”

He was definitely making it up to you now. He was a man on a mission, pressing his palm firmly against your clit and working against your spot, trying desperately to get you to cum. You couldn’t do anything but cling desperately to his shoulders. Your cries were getting louder as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. You finally snapped and came with a shout before nearly slumping against him. His arms caught you and he laughed a little to himself.

“So fuckin’ good for me, you’re gonna take me so well.” He pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple as you tried to get your bearings. You reached down to grab his cock in your hands, he was rock hard and you wanted nothing more than to run your tongue along them.

You shakily began to sink down to your knees but a strong hand grasped you by the shoulders and pulled you up before you could.

“Just wanna feel you” He breathed out before pressing a kiss to your lips.

It was your turn to smirk at him, slowly standing up to your full height. He kissed you again as his large hands grabbed your breasts one at a time, toying with your nipples and making you whimper just slightly. You could feel his cock hard against your thigh and decided you needed him now.

You lifted your thigh up over his hip, which he was all too eager to hold while you grabbed him and positioned him at your entrance. His other hand grasped your hip and he thrusted into you with determination, causing you to let out an obscene moan. He was hitting you so deeply and when he began moving you swore you couldn’t take him.

He hooked one arm under your leg as he pistoned in and out of you at a pace you weren’t quite ready for but you’d reveled in the feeling of. He was hitting you deeper than you’d ever thought possible by anyone else you’d had before.

“Shit,” He huffed, “Gonna fuck you stupid?”

You could only whimper in response as he did just that. He wasn’t holding anything back as he thrust into you over and over. You were quickly becoming overwhelmed but in the best way possible. You couldn’t help the noises that came out of you, couldn’t help the begging for him to continue.

As he pistoned in and out of you while keeping a vice grip on your leg you let out the most wanton little mewls, only spurring him on further. He was dragging every inch of him out of you and then slamming it back in, all the while his thumb toying with your clit. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold out and you couldn’t tell what was more exciting, the thought of him ruining you or the realization that anyone could walk in and see you two. Right now you didn’t care so long as he kept at it.

You tugged at his tresses, pulling them loose from the low bun they hung in, eliciting grunts and groans from him. You latched your mouth onto his neck and found his sweet spot, sucking a deep bruise into it.

“Fuck, babydoll, I don’t know how much longer I can hold out”

“Then don’t”

That was all the motivation it took for him to slam into you at full force, his fingers working double time to help you reach your high once more. You thought you couldn’t take anymore as he slammed into you harder than he had and bit harshly into your neck as he spilled himself inside of you with one final thrust.

You cried out as you came around him, feeling your pussy pulse in waves as you registered the aftershocks. You leaned your head back against the tiles while you tried to catch your breath, vaguely hearing his own sighs. Finally feeling up to sorts, you looked up at him only to find his hazy blue eyes boring into yours. A part of you can’t believe you’d done such a thing in public with a man who was practically a stranger but the other part was just as turned on by the fact.

“Think I’ve given enough penance for you, doll?”

“Not even close.”

#synths5kfollowerchallenge #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #no powers au #smut

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

Text

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

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#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

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pokemonswshfics · 4 years ago

Note

I was extremely happy with the result of the scenarios of boys with a reader who suffered bullying. I am super happy that you did not ignore my request even though it is a bit morbid, your writing is super nice and full of details just wonderful! Can I request again? If so, this time only with Piers and Raihan, where Fem S/O who is their friend/Crush now, but she still has little scared because of the bullyng, and in a moment she ends up flinching, thinking that they would hit her.

i'm so glad you liked the result of that request anon ^-^ 💞 and thank you so much, i really appreciate it :") here you go, have a good read everyone! ❤

((for everyone that's new to my work, this is a part two of a previous fic i wrote :D you can find it here if you'd like ))

Raihan/Piers × Fem!Reader || Oneshots (Sfw)

Piers (Sfw)

You and Piers had been spending more time together since the attack, it was usually smiles and teasing when you two were together.

However, this time was different, by a lot. You were both agitated with the other because of a playful battle you had, and how terribly your Pokemon had met.

"Tell your Obstagoon that my Alcremie isn't food." You huffed at him as you walked out of the Spikemuth Pokemon center, putting your Alcremie's Pokeball back into your bag. "He almost bit one of her berries off!"

"So? That's how he plays. Like trainer, like Pokemon." Piers grinned slyly while you frowned.

"That's not appropriate right now! She could have seriously been hurt."

He rolled his eyes now at your statement. "It was a Pokemon battle? They're supposed to get hurt."

You crossed your arms and glared at him. "You forfeited the match! He bit her when she was caught off guard- that wasn't fair!"

"You're kinda cute when you're mad. Like a Jigglypuff trying to intimidate something."

Your cheeks began to burn, and you tried frowning even more to try and mask it. "Stop it! Learn how to get your Pokemon under control, if you even can."

"What did you say?"

"If you even can. I didn't stutter."

Piers stopped smiling and glared back, "Teach yours how to take a hit. One thing hits 'em, and they need the ER or some shit."

You two were walking quickly now, with you a foot or so in front of him. "You can be so mean sometimes, Piers." You groaned in an upset tone and felt angry tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes.

"You started it!"

"I did not-!"

You turned around suddenly and froze.

Piers had his hand raised at a certain angle.

Any and all anger in your head turned to fear instantly, and you put your arms up to shield your face.

"Please don't!" You knew Piers was your rival, but you had never expected him to threaten physical violence. It reminded you too much of your attack, how Alcremie had also been hurt, how you argued with the attackers before it happened. While you waited for any type of hit, memories of the attack rushed through your head. From the initial first hit to Piers helping you when you encountered him. Your angry tears were now unexplainable, being a mixture of anger and hurt.

After a few moments, you still didn't feel anything. You were too scared to put your arms down voluntarily.

Then you felt his hand on your forearm, lightly touching it at first then wrapping his fingers around it. Piers lowered your arm with a soft and sad look on his face.

"Did you think I was gonna hit you?"

Your breath hitched in your throat once you saw his hair. His hair that usually fell in front of his face was slightly tussled.

Piers had raised his hand simply to run his fingers through it.

"I..I'm sorry." You whimpered out and tried to keep tears from falling. "I thought you would- You seemed so mad and-"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, alright? I should be the one apologizin'. I'll be more careful around ya." He rubbed the part of your forearm he had a hold on, then lowered your other arm that was shielding the lower part of your face. "I'm really sorry."

"D-Don't be!" You stammered out and felt a tear fall. You groaned and went to wipe it, but Piers beat you to it. His hand was suddenly on your cheek, his thumb wiping it away.

"You can let it out, not here to judge. What happened to you was serious, so yeah there's gonna be times it'll..come back to you but," Piers sighed then moved the hand that was on your other arm to your waist, bringing you closer to him. "I'll be right here."

You looked up at him and slowly relaxed in his arms. A small and sad smile appeared on your face, which he returned.

"Thank you, I'm sorry I got mad about Alcremie. I'm sure you can get Obstagoon under control, I didn't mean it." You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, shakily breathing. This was the closest you had been to Piers and you weren't complaining. He felt warm, and something you couldn't really pinpoint.

You stayed in his hold for a few seconds, his arms still holding you close. One of his hands was on your head, rubbing the back of it in a loving manner. As he continued, your whimpers and sniffles slowed.

"Are you okay now?" Piers whispered to you, slightly turning his head to face yours. With teary eyes, you looked up from his shoulder to him. Your faces were only inches apart, but neither was pulling away.

"Ah..Y-Yeah. Thank you.." You said and blushed at the closeness while feeling your tears come to a complete stop.

You silently thanked everything you've ever believed in that the streets of Spikemuth were empty. How would it look, Piers holding his 'hated' rival so close? Your lips only inches apart?

You pulled away out of pure nerves, you could barely handle Piers so close. You took a step back from him and nervously gripped the strap of your bag, attempting to calm the blush on your cheeks. When you looked up at Piers, he had a similar light shade tinting his cheeks.

"Uh- Let's get going. Alcremie's probably tired or somethin'.." Piers finally said and stepped up to you, pointing to your bag. "We can go back to my place."

You smiled up at him and nodded in agreement, turning to begin to walk.

Then you felt a tug on your sleeve.

Piers hand pulled at the hem of the sleeve, then moved his hand slightly down to your palm. You looked down at your hands, and realized what he was doing while looking straight ahead.

You shyly smiled and looked ahead as well, lacing your fingers with his. He didn't acknowledge it other than with a now visible small smile on his face, and you didn't acknowledge it either. It was now that you could finally pinpoint what you felt earlier in Piers' arms.

I'm safe.

The only thought that resided in your mind anymore was the safety you felt with Piers, as you walked to his home in comfortable silence.

***

Raihan (Sfw)

"This is actually really good, dunno why you didn't wanna share." Raihan smiled while he chewed his food, cupcakes you had made.

You two sat next to each other beneath a tree in the wild area, while your Pokemon played far away but in your lines of sight. When you told Raihan you made something for you two to eat together, but didn't want to share because you were scared it tasted bad- he practically dug into the bag himself to take out the container.

"You think so?" You asked smiling and fiddled with your hands, still thinking he might be lying. While he nodded in answer, you took a bite out of yours to see if he was just being nice.

"Riiiiiight?" He teased as soon as he saw your face light up. You covered your mouth while you chewed and giggled. You rolled your eyes and swallowed, feeling a bit of frosting on your cheek.

"Excuse me."

You reached over Raihan's lap for a napkin, when he spoke quickly in return.

"I got it."

"Oh, I-" You didn't have time to process his next movement, a quick and sharp one.

In the blink of an eye, Raihan's hand was out, to reach for your face. He was so close, you couldn't help but remember the man who hit you during the attack. You felt as if you blinked, Raihan would turn into your attacker. Out of instinct...

You flinched.

It was noticeable, nothing major but you felt your eyes shut almost on their own. You backed up, and now took your hand away from over Raihan's lap.

Your eyes stayed shut until you felt a warm hand rest on your cheek. The touch was tender, nothing like what your body had anticipated. The touch made you open your eyes to see Raihan, smiling sadly.

"Hey. You're safe, I won't hurt you. Ever, okay?" He sighed. His usual teasing smile, the playfulness in his voice, was all replaced by seriousness and care.

You locked eyes with him, and felt a blush creep up onto your cheeks. The memories from the attack stopped as soon as you looked at Raihan. You didn't want to admit it- especially to him- but he made everything bad..go away. The attack had certainly made a difference in your life, you never went out alone, you were paranoid, worried. The only moments you felt you were truly free from the thoughts of it, and what they brought to your emotions, were when you were with Raihan.

"You there?", Raihan let out a breathy laugh, still with soft eyes. You hadn't even realized you spaced out while staring into his eyes. His words made you snap out of your thoughts, and an even brighter blush appeared on your cheeks.

"I'll take that as a yes." Raihan looked away for a moment, before moving his hand to have a gentle hold on your chin, bringing you closer as well. A small hint of blush was visible on his cheeks once he looked back into your eyes. "Ah- seriously though. You're okay now, you're with me. I won't let anything even get close to you."

You suppressed a shy smile and turned your face away from him, before hearing another small laugh.

Raihan lifted his other hand and pressed a finger against your cheek to turn your face back to him. The gesture made you even shyer.

"I mean it. As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you.." Raihan's smile left his face, his lips were slightly parted. You felt him lean in closer, and you froze. "Got it?"

He continued to lean in, his eyes now hooded. You nodded slowly, unsure of what to do. You knew Raihan was a rival, a friend, you definitely thought of him in..other ways.. before. Without meaning to, your eyes closed and you leaned in as well. Your heart was pounding so much you felt as if it would escape your chest.

Then you felt a bouncy ball hit your head.

"Ow!" You reacted and pulled away from Raihan quickly, feeling flustered. You looked around for who had thrown it, Raihan as well. Your cheeks were the same shade, and you couldn't even look at each other.

"Alcremie!" You exclaimed once you saw your Pokemon with Raihan's Flygon, giggling above a bush nearby. "Don't do that!"

Raihan looked quickly to your Pokemon, and exhaled loudly. "Flygon. D-Don't do that!" His blush was still calming down, and he raised his hood to attempt and hide it. Whenever Raihan was flustered in anyway, his hood was up in mere seconds.

You stood up while wiping the frosting from your cheek and glared playfully at your Alcremie, knowing well she saw what had almost happened.

"Shut up." You mouthed at her and crossed your arms while holding back a grin as Raihan also stood, holding the ball.

He turned to the Pokemon near the bush and lifted the arm holding the ball, before making it soar through the air effortlessly. This caught the Pokemon's attention immediately, and they quickly went to go fetch it.

You and Raihan stood in silence, watching your Pokemon go after it. After a few moments, Raihan awkwardly cleared his throat and turned to you. He pulled his hood down and you looked up at him.

With another quick movement, Raihan grabbed your cheek opposite to him and slightly hunched in order to lower his own face. You got onto your toes to try and meet him in the middle, height wise, then felt something new.

A pair of lips pressed against your cheek, quickly pecking it.

Your face heated up immediately, and the grip on your cheek left quickly. Raihan's hood went back up as soon as he pulled away, and he shoved his hands in his pocket.

You stood, flustered.

"You owe me one." Raihan spoke from inside his hood, the grin on his face audible.

"Shut up. Let's go get Alcremie and Flygon, please?" You said and began to walk in front of him in order to conceal your blushing face, and the grin on it.

You heard him begin to follow, and he replied soon too.

"Right behind you. Always will be."

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, my requests are always open, just might be a wait! 💕 - 🥝

#pokemon #pokemon shield #gym leaders #pokemon gym leader #pokemon swsh #pokemon fanfiction #piers pokemon #pokemon raihan #piers x reader #raihan x reader

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gladdygirl18 · 3 years ago

Text

Echoing Laughter

Summary: Koichi isn’t in the highest of spirits and claims that he wants to be left alone, even though he wants the company. Luckily, he has two, amazing best friends to turn his frown upside-down and to give him all the company and attention he deserves.

Word Count: 2647

⚠Warning⚠: Mild swearing

Let’s get one thing straight. Koichi Hirose is probably the kindest person you will ever meet. He is very polite and respectful to everyone he meets, and he earns that respect and politeness back. When it comes to his family and his friends, he will lay down his life for them. Koichi is slow to anger but when he is, he's a completely different person. Nevertheless, Koichi Hirose is kind, loving, respectable, polite, and cheerful, and his family and friends love him for it.

However, Koichi wasn’t feeling anything today. He wasn’t feeling his cheerful, upbeat-self for some reason. It’s the summertime here in Morioh, and Koichi has been cooped up in his room for the past few hours for the past few days. The only time he would leave his room was when he was getting something to eat. He would come when a meal was called, then retreat to his room. His sister would try to convince him to come on a bike ride with her, but would respectfully decline by saying,

“Thanks, but no thanks. I just want to be left alone if that’s all right...”

Obviously, she or her mother weren’t all right with this. Koichi would even decline hanging out with Josuke and Okuyasu. That’s when they knew something was definitely wrong. Well, it was nothing serious. Koichi has just been feeling tired and stressed out lately. He says he wants to be alone, but he yearns for company. He just didn’t want to bother his friends or family with his problems.

That day, Josuke and Okuyasu were going over to visit Koichi to see if they can make him feel better. Knocking on the door, Ms. Hirose opened it with a smile.

“Welcome, boys!” she said, “Please, come in.”

The teens thanked the woman and stepped inside.

“Koichi, honey! You’re friends are here!” Ms. Hirose cried.

No response. The woman breathed out a sigh and shook her head in defeat.

“Still not comin’ out of his room?” Josuke asked.

“No... I don’t know what’s going on with him,” Ms. Hirose said, “He’s rarely ever like this.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re here!” Okuyasu said, “Maybe we can help him!”

Ms. Hirose sighed with a smile.

“Thank you, boys,” she said, “If anyone can make my Koichi smile again, it’s you two.”

Josuke and Okuyasu smiled at the woman’s compliment. Koichi’s mother lead the two teens to her son’s room, who’s door was shut tight. Ms. Hirose sighed and knocked on the door.

“Koichi, you’re friends are here,” she said softly, “Don’t you want to hang out with them?”

Koichi’s mother quietly opened the door to see Koichi laying on his bed reading a manga. He glanced at his mother and friends before looking back down at the manga.

“No, thank you...” he said dryly.

Ms. Hirose sighed and looked back at the two teens. They both walked in with sad smiles.

“Hey, Koichi,” Okuyasu began as he sat on Koichi’s bed, “You sure you don’t wanna hang out with us?”

“I’m sure...” Koichi answered, not once looking up from his reading.

“I’ll give you three some privacy.” Ms. Hirose said, shutting the door with a silent click.

The two sixteen-year-olds glanced at one another and sighed. Okuyasu then snatched Koichi’s manga from his hands.

“Okuyasu! Give it back!” Koichi said.

“Not until you come clean about why you’re shutting yourself out from the rest of the world.” Josuke said.

Koichi groaned and flopped back on his bed.

“Whatever. I already read that one four times...” Koichi sighed.

Okuyasu scowled and looked at Josuke for help. Josuke took the manga from his friend’s hands and placed it on the nightstand.

“C’mon, Koichi,” Josuke began, “There’s gotta be somethin’ you wanna do besides staying cooped up in your room hours on end.”

“What I’d like is to be alone, please...” Koichi confessed harshly.

Koichi’s sassy attitude surprised the two teens.

“Yup, something’s definitely wrong...” the two teens thought.

When the two looked back at their friend, he had turned on his side, his back facing the two older teens. The older teens glanced at one another and grinned, as if they read each other's mind.

“Alright, Koichi, you’re gonna have fun with us today, one way or another.” Okuyasu said.

“Yeah. If you don’t get up and hang out with us, we’re just gonna have to make you.” Josuke said in a warning tone.

“Ooh, I’m so scared,” Koichi said, sarcasm poisoning his tone, “Do your worst...”

Just what the teens were expecting their friend to say. Okuyasu got up and walked to the other side of Koichi’s bed, standing parallel to Josuke.

“Last chance, Koichi...” Josuke said, a sly grin growing on his face.

Koichi neither replied nor moved. The older teens saw this as a challenge, and they were willing to tackle it and succeed. Josuke and Okuyasu glanced at one another and nodded with grins.

“You asked for it, Koichi,” Okuyasu said, “Now, suffer the consequences!”

That’s when Okuyasu started digging his fingers into the fifteen-year-old’s sides. Koichi let out a giggly yelp that turned into uncontrollable giggles. Koichi twisted and turned, trying to escape his friend’s tickly fingers, all while kicking out his legs.

“Ohohokuyahahahasuhuhuhu! Stohohohop!” Koichi cried, “Leave me alohohoooone!”

“Nope! Not until you quit your moping and start hanging out with your friends and family!” Okuyasu said, climbing Koichi’s ribcage like a ladder.

Koichi continued to giggle like crazy, a wide smile adorning his face.

“Actually, I have a better condition.” Josuke said.

“Ooh~! What is it, Josuke?” Okuyasu asked eagerly, halting his tickle attack.

Koichi took in the much needed air.

“If you tell us why you’ve been so mopey and down these past few days, we won’t tickle the shit out of you,” Josuke said, “How does that sound, Koichi?”

“What!? No! Why would I agree to something like that?” Koichi asked, “Can you guys just leave me alone?”

“Fine. More fun for us!” Okuyasu said cheerfully.

That’s when both teens started clawing away at Koichi’s sides, causing the fifteen-year-old to let out a new stream of giggles. His kicking and squirming soon started up again.

“Guhuhuhuys! Come ohohohon!” Koichi giggled out, “This isn’t fuhuhuhunny!”

“Sure, it is! Look at that smile of yours!” Josuke said, “That’s the smile we missed these past few days, right, Okuyasu?”

“Oh, absolutely, Josuke!” Okuyasu replied, “However, I wanna see if this smile can get bigger, y’know?”

Josuke couldn’t help but chuckle when he caught onto his best friend’s plan. The two looked down at their giggling friend and stopped their assault so Koichi could get some air.

“Wanting to agree to our terms yet, Koichi?” Okuyasu asked.

“Hell no... Get out... and leave me... alone...” Koichi panted.

“I’d watch that mouth of yours,” Josuke said, placing a finger on his friend’s nose, “You are in no kind of position to be making any kind of threats, demands, or insults.”

Koichi growled and brushed away Josuke’s hand.

“I’ll ask you again,” Okuyasu began, “Are you gonna agree to our terms, or do you need more persuasion?”

Koichi scoffed and glared at his two best friends.

“I already told you no.” Koichi said.

That’s all Josuke and Okuyasu needed to hear. The older teens shrugged their shoulders before they pounced on their short friend, initiating their tickle attack once more. Koichi didn’t even hide the smile that was on his face or tried to stop the giggles that flowed from his lips.

“Josukehehehehehe! Okuyasuhuhuhuhu! Stop ihihihihit!” Koichi giggled.

“No way! You need to laugh!” Okuyasu said.

“Yeah! C’mon, Koichi! Laugh for us!” Josuke said, scribbling all over Koichi’s belly.

Koichi let out a yelp of surprise, causing his giggles to escalate in volume.

“That was a reaction.” Okuyasu commented.

“Nohohoooo! Please stohohohohohop!” Koichi cried.

“Quit begging for us to stop,” Josuke said, “We’re not gonna until you comply!”

Koichi rolled around in what little space he had on his bed. His giggles were the most adorable thing either Josuke or Okuyasu have ever heard. Even though he was a year younger than them, it really showed the kid-side of Koichi, the side they loved most of all.

“Guys, plehehehehehease! Knock it ohohohohoff!” Koichi giggled.

The two older teens nodded to each other before slowing to a stop.

“So, are you gonna tell us why you’ve been shutting yourself out from the rest of the world?” Josuke asked his panting friend.

“You guys... wouldn’t understand...” Koichi panted.

“We would if you just tell us,” Okuyasu said, “And maybe, we can work something out... together.”

Koichi bit his bottom lip and looked away from his friends. In truth, this is exactly what Koichi wanted, if not, needed. He yearned for affection and to be close to the ones he loved dear, but whatever that was plaguing him still was preventing him from saying that he wanted affection. Whatever plaguing Koichi now is not letting him open about what he has been feeling, only making it worse on himself; whatever plaguing him now was making him believe that he didn’t need to bother anyone about his problems. Right now, Koichi was just happy that his friends were here and are determined to help him out, despite their torturous tactics.

When Koichi didn’t answer him, Okuyasu shrugged and started squeezing Koichi’s hips. The fifteen-year-old gave a small buck and started giggling once more.

“Okuyasuhuhuhu! Quit ihihihit!” Koichi cried, “That feels sohohoho weheheheird!”

“It’s called having a tickle spot, little buddy,” Josuke said, “Which brings me to my next point: what’s your worst spot, Koichi?”

Koichi tried to glare at his best friend, only to get a smug grin in return.

“Why would I tell youhuhuhuhu?” Koichi asked.

“So, we can hear the famous Koichi Hirose laugh, duh!” Okuyasu said dramatically.

“Yeah, what he said.” Josuke said.

Koichi continued to giggle and twist around in complete disorder.

“No! I won’t tehehehell!” Koichi said.

In truth, Koichi didn’t really want the tickling to stop. That horrible, aching feeling is beginning to subside. Koichi knows he’s going to get it if his friends find his weak spot, but if they did, it might just lift the weight off his heart.

“Okay, have it your way!” Josuke said.

Josuke soon joined his friend and started tickling Koichi’s neck. Koichi let out an adorable, giggly yelp, causing him to scrunch up his neck and start to fight off Josuke’s hands.

“Oh, my Gohohohohod!” Koichi giggled out, “Stohohohohop!”

“Sorry, pal! This is way too much fun to stop!” Josuke said.

That’s when Okuyasu started attacking Koichi’s exposed armpits. Koichi screamed with laughter.

“NAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP!” Koichi cried, “GET OHOHOHOHOUT!”

“I think we struck gold!” Okuyasu commented.

“More like diamond! Look at him!” Josuke said.

Koichi’s arms were clamped to his sides, refusing to lift them. This only made Okuyasu’s fingers press deeper into his hollows.

“OKUYAHAHAHAHAHASUHUHUHU! STAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEASE!” Koichi begged.

“I can’t! My hands are trapped!” Okuyasu said, putting little to no effort into trying to pull out his hands, “Josuke, buddy, could you lend me a hand?”

“It would be my pleasure, my good friend!” Josuke said eagerly.

Josuke grabbed Koichi’s wrists with one hand and held them above his head on a pillow. Okuyasu’s fingers soon started dancing all over Koichi’s armpits, making the fifteen-year-old thrash and laugh like crazy.

“NOHOHOOOOO! IT’S TOHOHOO MUHUHUHUHUCH!” Koichi laughed, “PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!”

“Don’t worry, we will,” Josuke began, “If you give into our demands.”

“Yeah! Tell us what’s been goin’ on with you, or we’re never stopping!” Okuyasu said.

Josuke loomed his other hand over Koichi’s belly before scribbling all over the sensitive area. Koichi’s laughter went up an octave and his small body continued to twist and turn.

“NAHAHAHA! ANYTHING BUT THAHAHAT!” Koichi laughed, “STOP IHIHIT! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!”

“All we want is for you to talk with us, and this can all be over,” Okuyasu said, “Or... do you like being tickled?”

Both teens stopped to look down at their panting friend.

“Do you like being tickled, Koichi?” Josuke asked with a wide grin on his face.

“Eheven if Ihihi did... Why do you cahahare...?” Koichi asked, giggles escaping as he spoke.

“That wasn’t a no, little buddy...” Okuyasu said.

The two older teens shared a knowing look before tickling their friend again, causing another eruption of adorable laughter.

“NOHOHO! DOHOHOHON’T! STAHAHAHAP!” Koichi said.

“Did you just say, ‘don’t stop’?” Josuke said, “You really must be enjoying this!”

“Say less, Koichi! We read you loud and clear!” Okuyasu said.

The older teens soon started fluttering their fingers across Koichi’s body, his laughter escalating in volume.

“OH, MY GAHAHAHA! DON’T DO THAHAHAHAT!” Koichi laughed.

“We’re ready to talk to you, Koichi. We’re just waiting for you.” Josuke said.

Koichi suddenly felt that heaviness leave his heart. Whatever horrible feeling that was plaguing him was gone. Koichi was ready to talk to his friends, but secretly, he wanted the tickling to keep going for a little while longer, but he knew he would pass out in mere seconds.

“OKAY, OKAHAHAHAHAY! I’LL TAHAHAHALK!” Koichi finally said, “PLEASE STAHAHAHAP!”

The older teens stopped the tickling and Josuke released his friend. Koichi took the next minute or so regaining his energy and controlling his breathing. When he felt better, the three of them sat cross-legged on Koichi’s bed. Koichi took a deep breath before speaking.

“For the past few days, I’ve been feeling... well, rather, I wasn’t feeling anything to be honest...” Koichi began, “I don’t know how to describe it, but I didn’t feel like myself at all...”

“You can say that again.” Okuyasu commented.

Josuke bumped his friend’s arm with his elbow and shook his head.

“My physical being wanted to be left alone, but mentally... I just wanted... affection...” Koichi admitted, “I wanted to do fun things and go out with you guys, but my body was telling me no. I didn’t wanna tell anyone because I didn’t want to bother you guys with my problems. I didn’t want to be a burden...”

A look of sympathy washed over the older teens’ faces.

“Koichi, you should never feel like you’re a burden,” Josuke said, “Never have been, never will be.”

“Yeah. If you have a problem or goin’ through something, tell us, and we’ll do everything in our power to help,” Okuyasu said, “Me, Josuke, your mom, your sister, Mr. Jotaro, Rohan, and Yukako are all willing to help you out. You’re problems are our problems, and we’ll do everything and anything to solve ‘em,”

Their words made tears well up in Koichi’s eyes.

“Thanks guys...” Koichi said.

Koichi smiled and leaped into their arms, the older teens embracing the younger teen. When they parted, the three of them burst into laughter.

“I gotta say, though, you got a pretty cute laugh, Koichi,” Josuke said, “Glad we were able to hear it.”

“Yeah! A cute laugh for a cute kid.” Okuyasu said with a smile.

Their words made Koichi blush and smile sheepishly.

“Come to think of it, you never answered my question,” Josuke began, “Do you like being tickled, Koichi?”

Koichi’s cheeks became red and hot.

“I... uh...” Koichi stuttered.

Koichi jumped off his bed and made a dash for the door. Okuyasu called upon The Hand and deleted the space between him and Koichi, bringing the fifteen-year-old closer to him and Josuke.

“Okay, new conditions,” Josuke said, “We’ll stop tickling you until you admit you like being tickled.”

Koichi didn’t have the time to protest. He was soon tackled onto the floor by his best friends, reduced to another puddle of adorable laughter.

Koichi’s mother had been standing outside her son’s room for a while now with a wide smile on her face as she listened to her son’s laughter.

“There’s my Koichi...” she said sweetly, “Like they said, you are not a burden. Never have been and never will be...”

#tickle #tickle fic #jjba fic #jojo tickle #jjba part 4

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pinklacedarling · 4 years ago

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❇️ FINALLY ❇️

❇️ Pairing: Atsumu x F!Reader ❇️ Summary: Atsumu tries to figure out why you don’t like him, and possibly get you to agree to go on a date with him too. Easy, right? ❇️ Contents: Fluff, Angst (if you squint), Pre-Timeskip || ❇️ Word Count: 3.7k ❇️ Masterlist: Link

Miya Atsumu was at a loss.

Honestly speaking his problem wasn’t all that complicated, but the setter was so close to losing his mind over it that even his twin was starting to feel sorry for him.

Atsumu had a crush on you. You, who sat beside him in class, who - in his point of view - never gave him the time of day.

It had started during his second year, he couldn’t remember exactly when, but he does remember how it happened. It was a completely normal interaction, really. Atsumu asked to borrow your notes because he fell asleep in the middle of class and you agreed to lend it to him, but what piqued his interest was what came after.

When he returned your notes to you he had half expected you to hold his attention, flirt or make small talk like all the other girls did, but all you did was take your notebook back, flipped through it to check nothing was amiss and looked at him with a bored expression before saying, “Don’t fall asleep in class again. I’m not going to make a habit of lending you my notes for the entire year, Miya-san.”

And that was it.

Frankly, he had no idea why he even started liking you after that. Perhaps your aloofness felt like a breath of fresh air when compared to other girls, always so noisy and crowding him wherever he went. You, on the other hand, kept to yourself most of the time and didn’t like gossip, but that didn’t mean you were unapproachable. You were deemed as one of the most responsible people in class, and Atsumu noticed how people would ask for your help from time to time.

What confused him though was how compliant you were to them, but not him. If someone asked to borrow your pen you’d lend it to them, but when he was the one asking he’d get a “You’re so forgetful, Miya-san” or “Why didn’t you bring your own” and it was so frustrating!

He had tried multiple times to get close to you, but it all ended in failure. You’d cut conversations short or decline his invitation of spending lunch together - and every time he was so close to giving up his stupid crush on you and moving on, but you always gave him a reason to try again.

There was one time where he saw you petting a stray kitten with the softest expression on your face, and he couldn’t get the image out of his head for days. Or sometimes, when he glanced over your direction during class, you’d have a small pout on your lips from solving a math problem. You also tend to tilt your head ever so slightly when you were confused, which he found adorable. You didn’t smile a lot but when you did he swears it has the power to light up the room. There was also your laugh and, oh man, it was the most angelic thing he’s ever heard. And then there was—

It was safe to say that Atsumu had fallen for you. Hard.

Too bad it didn’t seem the same for you.

“Why doesn’t she like me?!” Atsumu had groaned after practice one day, slumping over on the gym floor beside his brother.

Osamu was already used to this, so he didn’t even bother looking over as the blonde continued to complain. “Maybe it’s cause your personality’s garbage.” He bluntly says.

“Shaddup, ‘Samu! I’m plenty nice to her but she just keeps shootin’ me down every time! Sometimes she doesn’t even look at me when I’m tryin’ to talk to her!”

“Ah, she finds you ugly then.”

“We have the same face!”

“What are you two yelling about now?” Suna interjects, walking towards the two with his phone in hand.

“It’s L/N again.” Osamu answers, “It’s always L/N. What else would ‘Tsumu be rantin’ about?” He hears his brother groan again before continuing, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ya know she calls me ‘Osamu’ but she calls ‘Tsumu ‘Miya-san’?”

Atsumu frowns, “She even called me ‘Miya-san’ right after I said she could call me ‘Atsumu’ too!”

His brother laughs. “‘No, thank you. I’ll stick with ‘Miya-san’ instead’ is what she said.” Osamu recalls while Atsumu lets out a yell of frustration. “Didn’t even waste a second. That was hilarious.”

The middle blocker hums, already accustomed to how much Atsumu brings up his failed attempts at making friends with you. He usually doesn’t poke his nose into other people’s business, but even he was getting annoyed by how much the blonde kept complaining every day.

“You should probably give up.” Suna finally decides to say, glancing over to Atsumu for a second before his eyes shift back to his phone. “Y/N’s pretty stubborn. If she doesn’t like you now then she probably wouldn’t like you any time soon.”

“Wha—! Yer on first name basis with her?!” Atsumu cries. “Since when?!”

“If ya keep shoutin’ Kita-san’s gonna hear ya.” Osamu interjects, but his brother ignores him in favor of glaring at Suna.

Suna sighs, “Uh, since we were classmates in our first year? She got transferred to your class this year but we still talk about video games sometimes and send each other memes.”

“How’d you get her to be friends with ya??”

“I don’t know, I was nice to her?”

Atsumu grumbles at this, running both hands through his hair. “But I’m nice to her!” He says. “I literally haven’t done anythin’ to make her hate me but she does anyway! How can I ask her out on a date if she doesn’t even wanna be friends with me?! This ain’t fair!”

Without looking up from his phone Suna responds, “You called her a ‘noisy pig’ and to ‘get lost’ when you briefly met, but sure.”

Time suddenly stops for him as he lets Suna’s words sink in. “… What?”

“M’not repeating myself.”

“I haven’t even met her before the year started!”

“Maybe you don’t remember, but she clearly does.” Suna sighs, and when he realizes that Atsumu wasn’t going to leave him alone without an explanation he continues, “I don’t know much, but I remember Y/N saying you bumped into her at the classroom door and yelled at ‘er.”

Atsumu continues to think but can’t for the life of him recall the event. Sure, he’s brushed off countless girls before, but he doesn’t remember ever doing that to you. “… O-Okay, but you said this was during first year, right? That was ages ago, and I’m plenty nice to her now!” He says, trying to defend himself, but Suna just shakes his head.

“I told you, didn’t I? She’s stubborn.”

“If she’s holdin’ a grudge then it sounds like yer best bet is to apologize to her, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu hums. “But even then she might not care.”

“Wow, that helps so much. Thanks.” Atsumu drawls.

A moment of silence passes before Osamu opens his mouth again.

“… In the end, it really was because of your garbage personality.”

“Yer really lookin’ for a reason to get punched, huh?!”

——

“What is this?”

“Uh…” Atsumu stammers, arm outstretched as he holds out a bottle of your favorite drink to you. He managed to corner you near the vending machines the next day with the intention of apologizing to you for what he did, regardless if he could remember it or not. He really hopes that this would work since he’s literally run out of ideas on how to befriend you. “It’s yer favorite..?”

“I can see that, Miya-san,” You flatly say, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m asking why you’re trying to give it to me.”

“It’s a peace offerin’!”

“A peace offering…”

“Y-Yeah!” Atsumu watches as your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Y’know, for what I did… Last year?”

You click your tongue, making him jolt, and tear your gaze away for him in favor of glaring to the side. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you show any other emotion in front of him other than indifference. “Rintarou, that jerk. I told him not to bother.” You mutter, but he definitely hears it.

Atsumu frowns, drawing his arm back and playing with the bottle in his hand. “Hey, ya don’t know if Suna was the one that told me–”

“Who else would tell you if not him?” You snap, looking back at him. “I’m not stupid, Miya-san, I know you two are in the same volleyball club.”

“A-Alright, yeah, he told me…” Atsumu confesses, not wanting to push his luck. You looked ready to shove him aside and walk away at any moment, and he didn’t want that.

A beat passes before you sigh. “So, now what? You obviously forgot about it, so why’re you suddenly bringing it up now.”

“Yeah, I forgot about it.” He admits, “But now that I know I did somethin’ to offend ya I’m tryin’ to apologize. So… here.” Atsumu holds out the bottle again, watching as your eyes briefly glance at it then back up to him.

“…What if I don’t want your apology?”

“Ugh, why not?!” Atsumu groans, albeit a bit too loudly, and misses the way you flinch at the sudden change in volume. He runs a hand through his hair, “What’s it gonna take for ya to forgive me?! M’sorry, okay?! What more do ya want?!”

“W-Why are you yelling..?!” You exclaim in a hushed tone, trying to get him to quiet down, but the blonde wasn’t having any of it. “Why do you even care if I forgive you or not? You’ve got other friends, right? People that like you - It doesn’t make a difference if I don’t!”

“But it does!”

“Be quiet, Miya-san, you’re going to attract attention–”

“I’m tryin’ my best here, can’t ya see?!” Atsumu rants, frustrations finally getting to him as he continues to talk despite your efforts in calming him down. “Sure, I was a jerk to ya once, but that was one time! I’ve been nothin’ but nice to ya since the school year started and I’m here right now tryin’ to apologize now that I know I did somethin’ wrong!”

“Miya-san, please settle down–”

“I don’t remember what happened back then, okay?! Suna said I yelled at ya, but I don’t remember! Lots o’ girls keep botherin’ me all the time so I probably bumped into ya and thought you were one of them - and again, m’sorry! C’mon, yer drivin’ me up a wall here!”

“Why is this even so important to you?!” You ask, complete confusion written all over your face as you inevitably end up shouting just as loud as him to get his attention. “Why is it so important that I forgive you—“

“BECAUSE I CAN’T ASK YA TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME IF YA HATE ME NOW, CAN I?!”

The both of you suddenly freeze, and Atsumu realizes a little too late what he just blurted out.

“W-Wait, that’s not–! I mean, I wasn’t supposed to say that– Not that I’m lyin’ or anythin’ but, u-uhh..! Well, uhm–” He babbles, unsure of how he was going to cover up his words now that he’s yelled it out right in your face.

You, on the other hand, stare at him wordlessly, eyes wide and completely taken by surprise. If anyone told you that Miya Atsumu was ever even minisculely interested in you, you would’ve laughed - but here he was, trying to find an excuse as to why he just yelled that he wanted to take you out on a date.

Frankly speaking, you never really hated him.

Dislike? Yes.

Hate? No.

With the exception of your first meeting you just found him annoying, mostly due to the fact that he always had those fangirls of his close by. They’d crowd at the classroom door during breaks and make so much noise it irritated you, and since you sat right beside him in class then it meant that you were subjected to most of the noise whenever they came around to leave their gifts and love letters.

Now, you weren’t blind. You knew why those girls were so taken with him, and you didn’t blame them. Miya was easy on the eyes and, at times, seemed quite charming. He had this lazy smile on his face whenever he talked to you, and perhaps you would’ve been kinder to him if you didn’t know how rude he was.

You knew that Miya was prideful, competitive, confident, and an all around show off since Rintarou would message you about the volleyball club from time to time. He knew your dislike for the setter, so he’d sometimes send you random pictures and videos, a lot of which include said setter messing up or getting told off by their captain.

There was also the time that the middle blocker sent you a video of the twins brawling. You were concerned at first, but when you learned the reason was because the blonde started hurling insults at his brother you supposed he deserved getting drop kicked from behind.

“He’s not a bad person,” Rintarou told you one day while you were having lunch together, “He’s stupid at times and has a big head, but he’s not all that bad. Maybe you should try to get along with him already. He’s always complaining to us.”

“No, thanks.” You scoff, shaking your head. “Besides, he’ll get tired eventually.”

You knew a lot of things about Miya Atsumu, but never in your life would you have thought that he’d be such a fumbling, blushing mess when asking someone out, and you out of all people.

“H-Hey,” You start, silently cursing yourself for stuttering. “This isn’t funny, Miya-san. I don’t appreciate being messed with.”

Atsumu looks at you, eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. “I’m not messin’ with ya, I swear!” He says, and you hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Why me?” You quietly ask, letting out an exasperated sigh at this whole situation. “You have lots of girls that want you to ask them out, so why’re you going for someone who doesn’t like you?”

“I… I don’t know.” He huffs, putting a hand behind his neck as his gaze lands on the ground. “I suppose it’s cause yer different? Yer not like those girls that follow me around. They’re so noisy and talk too much. I appreciate their support and all but they get too close a lot of the time and I feel like suffocatin’ whenever there’s too many of ‘em.”

You blink, absorbing this new information. You had always assumed that he liked all the attention he got from his fangirls. Never once had it crossed your mind that he didn’t like having them around… Then again, he did mention thinking you were one of those girls way back during first year.

“But ya don’t act like that with me.” He continues, “I mean, I guess it’s cause ya don’t like me, but the difference was refreshin’… For once I didn’t have a girl who was throwin’ themselves at me. I thought ‘hey, maybe if I play my cards right then she’d give me a shot’, but then you wouldn’t give me anythin’ to work with…”

You frown, mostly at yourself, and looking back maybe you could’ve been a bit nicer to him. Perhaps you judged Miya Atsumu too quickly.

“I know ya don’t like me and I’ve tried to distract myself from ya, get rid of this dumb crush, but…” Atsumu trails off, sighing. You note that the tips of his ears turn a darker shade of red. “Whenever I see ya talkin’ to someone, givin’ them that cute smile of yours or laughin’ so prettily… Makes me wanna be on the receivin’ end of that, y’know?”

“Don’t call me pretty.” You blurt out, turning your head to one side to hide the growing blush on your cheeks.

Atsumu lets out a chuckle, giving you a lopsided grin. “Sorry, no can do. Can’t lie to ya now, can I?” He says. Noticing your flustered state, he adds, “Yer real pretty - Even when you were snappin’ and glarin’ me earlier ya still managed to look like the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Didn’t take you for a masochist.” You retort, trying to get him to stop complimenting you so much. You weren’t used to this at all.

“I think ya looked kinda hot too—“

“Miya-san!”

He laughs, and you didn’t expect to feel so relieved when you see his smile return to his face. The blonde was always smiling whenever he talked to you, so seeing anything but a smile was worrying, to say the least.

You surprised him when you snatched the bottle from his hand, glaring at the drink as you contemplated your next words. “You’re really not messing with me?” You ask, side-eyeing him warily. “This isn’t a prank?”

“I swear it ain’t.” He answers, patiently waiting for your response.

“… I still don’t think I can fully trust you,” you start, and you see him visibly deflate and you quickly add, “B-But I guess I could start by forgiving you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widen and he takes a step towards you. “R-Really?!”

“Calm down! Yes, I forgive you!” You jump, not used to him being so close. “I-It’s the least I could do, right? After all, you just confessed and everything… Even yelled that you wanted to ask me out.”

“Ah, right… I did do that, huh?” He sighs, not really knowing how to move forward after that. He could already hear his brother’s voice calling him lame.

“I… I guess I can manage that.” You state.

He blinks. “Huh? What’s that mean?”

“I-I admit I’ve misjudged you, and we could use the opportunity to get to know each other,” you explain, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger to distract yourself from his gaze, “Plus I’d be a real jerk if I didn’t give you a chance after everything you said… B-Basically, what I’m trying to say is that we… could go on a date.”

“YOU’LL GO ON A DATE WITH ME?!”

You shush, giving him a glare, but Atsumu was over the moon with your answer that there was no way he could hold back on his excitement. He was beaming, giving you the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. It made him look like a giant puppy.

“Don’t expect too much out of it!” You cough, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks were getting as you opened the bottle in your hand to take a drink.

This doesn’t phase him however, as Atsumu was already thinking of where to take you, hoping that he could impress you enough to take you on more dates in the future.

“If it’s a date then can I hold yer hand the whole time?” He asks, a smile still present on his face.

You almost choke on your drink, making him laugh as you angrily said, “I just told you not to expect too much!” But again, this does nothing to erase the giddiness he was so obviously displaying. You huff, a bit surprised by how quickly his mood changed by just agreeing to go on a date with him. You supposed it was a good thing, especially since you’ve started seeing him differently from before.

“Let’s head back to class,” you sigh, checking the time, “I don’t wanna be late for next period.”

“Wait!” He says, stopping you before you could take a single step. Atsumu takes out his phone, staring at you expectantly, and it takes you a second before you understand what he’s getting at. The two of you take a moment to exchange numbers and Atsumu’s heart jumps when he receives a ping from you, confirming that it is indeed your number plugged into his phone.

You lean over to check Atsumu’s phone screen, frowning, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “What’s wrong?” He gulps, afraid he did something to upset you again.

“… You can call me Y/N now, if you want.”

“Wha—! Yer finally lettin’ me?!” Atsumu thinks his heart can’t handle much more surprises today, especially since he got you to forgive and agree to go on a date with him. And now you’re letting him call you by your first name?

Atsumu thinks his heart might actually burst from it all.

“Y-Yeah, well, since I’ve forgiven you now there’s no real reason for me to keep telling you to call me L/N all the time.” You mumble, “And, uh, I guess… I guess I’ll start calling you ‘Atsumu’ from now on too.”

Was it possible to die from too much happiness? Because he definitely feels like he’s getting dangerously close to it.

“D-Do you have some place you wanna go?” He asks, excitedly changing your contact name and secretly putting a heart beside it. “For our date, I mean.”

You hum, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible when in reality you’re still pretty nervous about this whole ordeal. “Not really. I’m pretty good with anything, but don’t go overboard.”

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll think of a few things and text you about it tonight?” That was kind of a lie. He’s already thought of at least a dozen different places he could take you to but he keeps that to himself.

“Sounds good.” You agree, silently scolding yourself at how curious you already were for what he was planning. Shaking your head, you wave your hand for him to follow. “C’mon, let’s go already. The bell’s gonna go off soon.”

You weren’t even three steps away when you hear him again, and it takes your entire self control not to hurl your drink at him.

“Y/N!” Atsumu says, a big grin on his face, “If I do good on our date will you let me kiss ya?”

“Atsumu, shut up!”

Atsumu follows you back to class, laughing at your scowling, red face, feeling the happiest he’s ever been because finally - thank god, finally - he’s making some progress with you.

BONUS: “So you finally forgave him, huh?” You hear from your laptop, making you groan. You didn’t even need to be on video call to know that he has an annoying smirk on his face.

“Shut up, Rintarou.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on me.” He chuckles. “Atsumu’s so whipped for you, I swear. He wouldn’t stop bragging about how he finally got a date with you. Osamu was close to spiking a ball in his face.”

“I’m serious.”

“He’s already thinking about more dates, y’know? Anniversary dates too.”

“I will end this call, I swear to god!”

“Even said he’d get you to marry him someday–”

CLICK! [CALL ENDED]

A/N: I didn’t think this would be this long lmao;; I wrote this halfway then continued about a week after so the continuity of it all might be a bit weird but I think it’s good, so I hope people do too! (Added Note: I reuploaded this cause it wasn’t showing up in the tags for some reason?? It’s been a full day and it never popped up)

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu #haikyuu!! x reader

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boognish-worshipper · 3 years ago

Text

Midnight City AU

i’ve been having fun writing this story, all these lil snippets n pieces comin together n shit,,, but i also find myself getting so frustrated writing sometimes even tho ik that’s a given with literally creating anything 😭 anyway uhhhh scheming shit ensues in this chapter, and we see another familiar pal pop up 🙏 also included obligatory reference to those aesthetic photos with song lyrics 🏃‍♀️💥

//Chapter 2: Oblivion

The vinyl store was a short walk from Sterling Lake, but Ron and Trevor decided to run there like idiots. Trevor was out of breath by the time they got there placing his hands on his knees, while Ron looked ready to keel over and pass out, pressing a hand against the front of the store.

“Remind me why we chose to run here?”

“So we could,” Ron wheezed out a breath, inhaling deep to stable himself.

“So we could hurry up and get Wade.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“Right. Sorry Trevor.”

Trevor swung the door open hastily, calling out for Wade right away. A head with muddy locs popped up in their direction.

“Hey Trevor! Hi Ron!”

“Wade! Get over here, no time for pleasantries!”

Wade rushed over to meet them outside.

“Get out of my G-damn store Trevor!”

“I’m going, Debra. Say hi to lovely Floyd for me, will ya?”

“Get out!”

The trio walked away from the place, not knowing where to head next.

“Let’s go talk in my truck, where we won’t be… disturbed by any fuckwad wearing Andés brand sherpa jackets. Why do they even need jackets out here? It’s like 90 degrees all the time!”

He was parked across the way from Sterling Lake, and as he went, he tried his best to avoid running into the clique of phony fucks. The minute they all piled in, Trevor peeled out so loudly it was surprising he tried being discrete at all.

“So, Ron. Fill Wade in.”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“It’s the Merryweather Night Club.”

“Ooh, are we goin’ in to see them pretty girls dance?”

“No, Wade.” Trevor interjected.

“Then what-“

“It’s about Steve.”

“Who?”

Trevor impatiently shot out a breath, trying his best to breakdown the situation to Wade. He put a hand to his face briefly before speaking again.

“Haines, Wade. Steven fuckin’ Haines.”

“Ohh him! That fancy dude at the park.”

“Yeah. The fancy dude at the park.”

“What about him?”

“Well Ron here caught word that Devin Weston is hosting some big event there for Haines and his crew.”

“We invited or somethin’?”

“For fucks sake- No, Wade. We’re gonna plan out how to completely crash and wreck the party, so we can get that club the fuck out of here.”

“How’re we gonna do that?”

“Well first, we’re gonna scope the place out. Get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

Trevor thought to himself that if he didn’t have a good look from the outside, that’d he’d have to get a layout of the floor plans himself. It’s not like he hadn’t visited the club before, but he hadn’t been… sober exactly when he dropped by those few times. So it was basically like seeing it for the first time. If he couldn’t get much from the outside, he knew only one person who could accomplish getting the layout of the place.

“We’re almost there, get ready to do some creeping boys.”

The sun was setting, and soon it would be dark out. And when it got dark in Los Santos, it got dark. The only way the city could be visible was from the surplus of lights that were nearly everywhere, except for a few places. They at least had some darkness to rely on so they wouldn’t be spotted right away. Trevor parked a block away, and the three of them hid on the rooftop of the building across the way. Neon lights flickered on, reading “MERRYWEATHER’S SUNNY DAYS NIGHT CLUB”.

“Such a stupid fucking name. I mean, why is it called Sunny Days if it’s a night club?!” Trevor angrily muttered.

As the sky grew dark, the club began to stir, with some random rhythmic song starting up. Ron lifted a pair of binoculars he brought with him, and gasped.

“There he is! Mr. Weston himself!”

Trevor snatched the binoculars from Ron, causing him to crash into his side.

“Uh, Trevor, it’s still around my neck.”

“Then take it the fuck off, before I take it off for you.”

He fumbled around with it, tossing it into Trevor’s hands. Below them, he saw Devin standing outside, with a pristine woman beside him. Trevor whistled lowly, so they wouldn’t be heard.

“That lady’s wayyy out of that fucker’s league.”

He watched them speak to the bouncer outside, hearing them laugh about something before heading in.

“They’re probably laughing it up now, plotting their next move to take over the city!”

“Shut up Ron, we lost them.”

He growled in frustration, handing the binoculars back to Ron.

“Let’s sneak ‘round back, maybe we’ll see something there.”

As they left, Trevor made a mental note of where the Merryweather bouncers were placed. Two burly men guarded the entrance, with a thick velvety rope not too far in front of it. They had to avoid the streetlights, seeing as people like them were sure to raise suspicion being near one of the hottest night clubs in LS. He couldn’t be made, not when he already had a reputation there.

“Alright Ron, you see anything?”

They hid near a dumpster, away from the lights.

“Not really, it’s too dark-“

Suddenly, the back door swung open. Ron and Trevor ducked while Wade’s eyes were transfixed on who was coming out. Trevor yanked him down, holding a finger to his lips.

“So I says to him, ‘You ain’t payin’ me enough to stay on this failure of a fuckin’ show Solomon!’, old guy flipped the fuck out.”

“That’s that Pelosi actor though!” Wade said, rather loudly.

“Wade! Shh!”

“And then I- wait a minute. The fuck was that?”

“Shit! Shit!” Ron panicked.

“Yo!” Pelosi started to walk in their direction.

“We better get out of here. Now.”

All three of them scrambled up to run off back to Trevor’s truck.

“Get back here! Security!” The actor began to chase them, along with one of the Merryweather guards.

They continued to run down the block, Trevor breaking into a sprint so he could start the car up before anyone caught up to them.

“Get in! Get the fuck in!”

The truck revved up, and Trevor drove off in a haste. Even though it didn’t go as planned, Trevor couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Whew! What a rush, huh?”

“Rush?! We almost got caught, Trevor!”

“Yeah, only because Wade couldn’t keep it down for 5 fuckin’ seconds.”

“I’m sorry! That Pelosi guy is famous! I ain’t ever seen a actor up close.”

“Yeah, but he’s already washed up. Nothing special.”

“Isn’t he our age? How can he be washed up if he’s still-“

“Can it, Wade.”

Trevor came to the conclusion that there wasn’t enough visibility of the place from the outside. It didn’t have a single window. He mumbled to himself that he needed to go see a friend of his. The travel to El Burro Heights didn’t take long, with Trevor telling the other two to wait in the truck.

“Ron, please make sure he doesn’t do anything dumb.”

“Got it.”

“It was one time!”

He made his way up the steps, banging on the door. He lifted his head up to the outdoor camera, snarling at it.

“Let me the fuck in Wheels!”

The front door clicked open, and Trevor walked right in. He shut it behind him, and trotted over to a bedroom.

“Trevor. Didn’t think I’d see much of you again.”

“Neither did I old friend.”

“What is it. What do you want.”

The room was lit up with aqua and pink shades, a visual of a permanent sunset on his computer. Some kind of synth music played faintly. A nerdy looking guy was seated in a wheelchair next to a set up that looked like it was pulled right from the 90s, various posters and novelty items strewn about.

“Let me cut to the chase. It’s Merryweather again.”

“Again? Trevor, I thought we agreed you’d leave them alone!”

“Ah ah ah! I didn’t finish, Lest. Get this, there’s some big event going on soon. Steve Haines- some big get together with him and his posse of lame-os.”

“Really? Devin’s letting those guys in? I thought it was all big name people.”

“Yeah, well Steve isn’t exactly poor Lester. I thought we both knew that.”

“Duh, but still. He’s not exactly Devin’s type of crowd.”

“No no no, I think they might be in kahoots. Planning something.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hmm. Let me see…”

He turned to the computer, clacking away on his keyboard. It was rather vintage looking, and Trevor was surprised it worked at all. Lester was into technology more than he was though, so he probably worked some kind of magic on it.

“Hm. You’re right. Seems like they’ve known one another for quite some time. Guess their dads work together.”

“Fuckin’ daddy’s boys.”

“But, I still don’t think interfering with that party is a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You’ve had enough run ins with the both of them already.”

“But if we infiltrated the club, we could get it shut down!”

“What are you planning, some sort of raid? You and your buddies? 2 other people isn’t much to work with if you wanna take down one of the most popular clubs here.”

“That’s why I came to you!”

“For what?”

“So you could do your cyber shit, find the floor plans or something!”

“You know that’s gonna take a long time, right? I mean, getting the blueprints, not to mention finding other people who’re on board with the idea of it all-”

“Well no shit.”

“Are you paying me?”

“What?”

“I said, are you paying me?”

“What the fuck would I need to pay you for?”

“Taking time out of my day to get that done for you.”

“Right. Because you’re sooo busy.”

Lester frowned slightly, upset by the remark.

“I’m gonna just ignore that. Anyway, I’m not asking for a whole lot. Just something for the effort I’m putting in to find the plans.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Absolutely none my friend!” He said, grin wide.

“Y’know you’re still gonna need to assemble a crew that doesn’t consist of only your… minions or whatever. That’s your part. Now shoo, let me do my thing.”

“Oh Lester the Molester you never let me down!” He said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Aww, and here I thought you liked it!”

“Just go already. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No funny business.”

“But funny business is my specialty!”

“Oh my God, go!”

He made his way back over to the truck, seeing Wade passed out in the back. Slamming a hand on the truck bed, he yelled for him to wake up.

“Boys! We got some recruiting to do.”

“Wh-what? What d’ya mean? Who are we gonna find? I thought it was just gonna be us-”

“We’re not taking out one of the biggest clubs in LS on our own, Ron.”

“But I-”

“No buts! Now let’s go.”

They all drove across the city, back to the apartment complex Floyd lived in, Wade’s place being the first one you see pulling in. He had been nice enough to pitch in some cash to pay his rent, seeing as Wade basically had no money to begin with. The trio brainstormed for a bit, chattering away about needing to find people who hated those guys just as much as they did, before Wade and Ron promptly passed out. Trevor threw on a random shuffled playlist to keep him occupied as they slept, and some song he’d never heard before played. Some artist called Grimes? The intro was wobbly, like someone was shaking laminated paper. He kept it on, liking how funky it sounded. The music reverberated loud in his ears, the singer’s voice light and dreamlike compared to the dark, heavy tone of the song. It was the experimental stuff Trevor was into. He opened nosedivr, scrolling through his usual feed. This was a thing he did often when he couldn’t sleep. As he kept going through posts, he noticed he still followed Amanda; they stopped being friends long ago and the task of removing her on there slipped his mind. She had posted a new photo though, and he instantly recognized who she was with just from the shoes. It was that Michael guy.

@krystal-klear-tears

𝔦 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔥 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲.

#grunge aesthetic #lana del rey #lyrics #black and white aesthetic

His finger hovered over the reblog button, and he hesitated. What was he doing right now? He didn’t give a shit who Amanda was with anymore. Michael was just another name, another face, another person she was just gonna dump later on. She could never do commitment. That was the one thing he knew for sure in the period of time they had been friends. Amanda wasn’t exactly a bad person for it, she just didn’t express her feelings in the best way. It was why she jumped from guy to guy. They didn’t need anything more than her facade, her surface level personality. So when the time came that she would be close to showing her true colors, she’d cut them off. Trevor didn’t like that. If there was one thing he truly could not stand, it was people being two-faced. He wished Amanda embraced herself more. But like he said, it was whatever now. Soon enough, he wouldn’t see anymore posts like that.

Still, he figured he could unfollow her another day. Part of him did wanna see how long this one would last. Was that bad? Maybe. Who cares. By the time he had finished scrolling mindlessly on his phone, he’d finally grown tired. He wanted to dream about tomorrow, because tomorrow promised a plan in the works, and it was fucking spectacular. He couldn’t let something so meaningless like a new boyfriend of hers distract him. Yet despite that, he still found himself wanting to know more. This was the first guy in a while that Amanda got with that she didn’t run to tell him about. It felt… strange. But again, he couldn’t let that distract him from what was at the front of his mind. He didn’t have time for that. He had to focus on Merryweather first and foremost. Shutting his eyes, a smile grew on his face. He was finally gonna take those stupid fucks down.

//sorry if these seem short rn,,, it’s gonna be a slow build up tbh. it’ll be worth it later on when i complete future chapters lol. don’t wanna rush it too much ,, also i feel like i’m gonna accidentally make this sound all over the place so uh apologies in advance 💯 i will go into more detail abt amanda n trevor’s friendship in this too btw so expect that eventually ig

#gta v #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #ron jakowski #wade hebert #lester crest #michael de santa #michael townley #amanda de santa #midnight city au

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

if you're in the mood for requests i would absolutely LOVE something from the hidebehind au? (maybe including blindfold sex??)

Here you go! I decided to do this for monster march. We’ll figure this counts as prompt 18: claws.

All things considered, Duck is lucky. He’s employed which, given when the newspapers are calling the great depression raging across the country, is a blessing. His days are spent among the mighty trees of the Pacific Coast, he has a small cabin all to himself, and a cat to keep the mice away.

He just wishes he wasn’t working for a fucking logging company hundreds of miles away from anyone he’s ever known.

Winthrop Logging needed someone with an arborist or botanists training to make sure the woods stayed healthy before they were chopped down. So they pay Duck a fine sum to make sure diseases or pests don’t send their prospects toppling like dominos. As he traverses his usual route between the trees, he wonders if there will ever be a way to convince them to preserve some of the land rather than profit from it.

He stops, studying a pine. There it is again, the feeling that someone, or something, is behind him. Watching. Waiting.

It started three weeks ago, when he was deeper in the woods than usual, humming to himself and occasionally talking to the trees. The skin on his neck prickled, all his senses forcing him from his thoughts and into the present moment; something was there, tracking him as he moved. Not a bear, our a cougar, as the birds still called and the insects chorused. Whatever it was stood directly behind him, yet when he turned to look, there was nothing but the path.

For the first few days he tried to spot it, never got more than a flicker in the corner of his eye. He came home exhausted, the day spent on high alert as the primal part of his mind demanded he remain on guard for the moment his hunter decided to strike.

The moment hasn’t come, and Duck is growing used to the gaze crawling up his spine. He decided to ignore it, pretend it was just his imagination and some days that worked.

Today, there’s no getting around the fact that something is peering over his shoulder. Twice now he’s felt fingers millimeters from his neck. When he feels them again, he reaches his arm back, eyes firmly on his notes, and grabs hold of his stalker.

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

Humans are not known for their speed. Indrid’s foresight showed this one as no exception, so when the man is fast enough to grab his leg, he chirps in surprise.

“Fuckin knew it, there is someone back there.” Warm fingers smooth across the short down of his leg.

Indrid appreciates being called a someone instead of a thing, but not the position of Duck’s hand.

“Please let go. That is my thigh you are grabbing. My upper thigh.”

The hand stays put, “Anyone ever tell you it’s mighty rude to stand right behind a fella when he’s tryin to work?”

“I cannot stand anywhere else, though the proximity is due to-”

“Uh huh, sure, just like you can’t help but play and hide and seek whenever I try to figure out what’s goin on. Lemme guess, you’re one of the other fellas from the loggin camp playin tricks on the new guy?”

“I am nothing of the kind.” Indrid contemplates moving the hand himself, but it feels so very nice.

“One of the locals then? I keep tellin you, I’m a country boy, I’m not gonna get scared by campfire tales or weird noises in the woods. Try that government fella instead.”

“What about the part of me you are touching suggests I am human?”

“Probably a left-over monkey suit or somethin’ from Halloween.”

“I am not a costume, I am a Hidebehind.”

The human pauses, then shakes his head, “No such thing.”

“You are literally touching one.” Indrid stamps his foot, frustrated by the turn this is taking and the fact that futures do not show the human believing him any time soon.

“Don’t believe I am.” The human turns his head. Indrid’s body whips sideways, keeping him from view. The human holds on, tries again from the opposite direction, only for Indrid to be wrenched back the way he came.

“Stop movin!”

“Stop trying to look at me!” He’s twisted to the side once more, wrenching the humans arm in the process.

“Ow!” The grip on him tightens, “quit this fuckin game right now. You don’t lemme see you, I’ll drag you right back to camp with me.”

“I can’t!” Indrid chirps, panicked, the noise continuing into a wail of alarm at what might happen if he’s surrounded with nowhere to hide.

His fear must register as genuine, as the human releases him with a sigh. After a moment he removes his hat, running his fingers through his hair but not turning around.

“You still there?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you even followin me in the first place?”

A peek at the futures says the truth will be most effective, though almost all timelines end with the human telling him to “get gone.”

“I find you intriguing. You do not chop or hack at my home, you study it. You speak to the trees when you think you are alone. You look soft to touch, especially the fur on your head. I like looking at you and being near you. That was why I stood so close.”

“...You been followin me because you’re sweet on me?” The drawl, as soothing as movement of water through plant limbs, seems confused.

“I do not find you sweet. I could only do that if I ate you. Which I do not want to do.

A chuckle, “Not quite what I meant. You been hangin around me because you think I’m swell and wanna get to know me. Guess I can’t fault you for that, I'm a decent fella to know if I do say so myself. You got a name?”

“Indrid.” This is an unexpected turn of the timelines.

“Nice to meet you, Indrid. I’m-”

“-Duck” Indrid says along with him, “apologies, I can see the future and am thus a bit ahead in conversations.”

“Huh. Well, I gotta head back to town. If you wanna talk again, I won’t mind. Just tell me you want to instead of lurkin, you hear?”

Indrid grins, “Yes. I hear you perfectly.”

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

“Fuck” Duck picks himself up from the dirt where he fell, brushing pine needles from his coat. He’d been angling for a better look at a set of roots and tripped over a different set in the process.

“Are you alright?” A now familiar voice asks from behind a tree to his left.

“Depends. You see me make a fool of myself by fallin on my face?”

“Yes.”

“Then my body is fine but my dignity is real wounded.”

A laugh like spring breeze through new leaves, “I suspect it will recover. You do have quite a deal of leaves in your hair. May I help you with them?”

Duck nods. Slender fingers pluck at his hair.

“Ohhh, it is just as soft as I thought it would be.” Indrid murmurs, “does it feel nice?”

“Don’t feel like much--oh, uh, fuck, that does though. Feels damn good.” Duck groans as claws scritch his scalp. The first time he felt them on his shoulder when Indrid was talking, he tensed; The hidebehind isn’t small, and the claws suggest he could shred Duck to bits and scatter him across the woods. But after weeks of keeping him company, Duck knows the worst Indrid might do to him is steal too much of his lunch.

The hidebehind, endlessly fascinated by Duck’s job, will sit out of sight as he works. Duck asked him if he only watched Duck the entire time. It turns out the creature draws as well, and Duck now recognizes the sound of a pencil under the rustle of leaves and calls of wildlife. Indrid also spares Duck dangerous climbs into the trees, offering to look at marks or discoloration and describe them if they’re too high for the human to see.

Turns out he also gives a mean rubdown, his claws moving from Duck’s head to his neck, banishing the knot that’s been bothering him all morning.

“I like touching you.” Indrid chirps. Duck hasn’t forgotten their first meeting; if a man had come to him with such flattering shyness in his voice and an interest in Ducks body, he’d have been in Duck’s bed by the end of the night.

He’s not ready to take a hidebehind home, but he’s ready to tease one.

“Seems mighty unfair that you get to touch and I don’t.”

“You would have to close your eyes to so much as shake my hand. My form does not care how little of me you would see, it will pull me into hiding regardless.”

“Then I’ll close my eyes.” Duck does just that, tips his head back so Indrid can see it’s safe. One hand continues massaging his head, while a spindly arm reaches around his chest.

“Bring your arms up, towards you a bit more, yes, there we are.”

Duck runs his hands over the limb; it reminds him of Manzanita bark he saw in the Sierra Nevadas, smooth but unmistakably of the woods. Towards the elbow the texture changes to soft, short feathers, like the ones on Indrids leg.

The hidebehind tightens his hold, pulling Duck to his torso. More feathers prickle the back of his neck and the creature shudders.

“You alright back there?”

“I...it has been so very long since anyone or anything touched me. I foresaw my body being sensitive to it but the intensity is, is-” he lets go so suddenly Duck stumbles, “I am sorry, it was too much and yet I wanted, wanted more.”

Images of Indrid surrounding him, chirping and purring as Duck touches him all over, flood his mind. The embarrassment in his voice keeps the arborist from acting on them.

“You, uh, gonna show me that Saw-Whet Owl nest?”

“Of course, sweet human. Take the right fork of that deer trail just ahead, and we shall go from there.”

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

“I have something for you. Close your eyes.”

Duck, still perching on the stump he was using as a lunch chair, does as instructed. Indrid sets a piece of paper in his right hand.

“You may now look.”

An illustration fills the entire page. It shows a being with stick-like arms and legs leading to a narrow body covered in short, leaf shaped feathers in mottled browns and greens. The face is angular, shaded to suggest it’s dusted with fuzz, and leads to several stick-shaped horns. The eyes are wide and black, the claws long, and there are short, triangular shapes behind its shoulders.

“Holy fuck, you’ve got wings?”

“Indeed. I do not use them much. I believe they help my kind migrate when our habitats dwindle.”

Duck traces the face on the paper, “How long did it take you to make this?”

“Two days, as the lakes I use to study my reflection tend to attract townspeople and loggers looking to take a break from their toil.”

“You did all this just ‘cause I said I wished I knew what you looked like.”

“Not solely. I...I wanted to show you it as well. So you might know the face of the one who, ah, whose days you brighten.”

Carefully, Duck folds the portrait and tucks it into the inside pocket of his coat, “Find I like my work even better with your company too, ‘Drid. Would you, uh, be okay if I tried to match what you showed me to what I can feel?”

An intrigued chirr floats through the air as Duck shuts his eyes and waves to the ground in front of him. A scuff and rustle of dirt and leaves, and then he feels Indrid in front of him. Cool hands guide his own onto the multicolored feathers.

“Shoulders?”

“Correct.” Indrid moves their joined hands upwards, stopping on velvet-dusted cheeks, “oh, oh goodness, I have always wanted to be held like this.”

“Yeah?” Duck’s heartbeat is in his fingertips, “what else have you always wanted?”

“To, to be touched, to be known, toMMMphohh” a rough tongue laps at his lips as he pulls Indrid into an awkward, bowed kiss.

“How’s that, darlin?” Duck kisses along what he thinks is Indrids’ jaw, “that the kind of knowin’ you in the mood for?”

“Yes, oh my sweet human you spoil me, oh” claws grab his shoulders, “I, do you really wish this, with me? This was in so few timelines I assumedAH” he squirms adorably as Duck gropes the feathers of his chest.

“You better believe it, sugar. It’s the weirdest goddamn thing I ever wanted and I want it, want you, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long fuckin time.” Curious and eager to fill every one of his senses with Indrid, he buries his face against his upper chest, finds skin beneath all the camouflage and bites down. The hidebehind keens, pulling Duck from his seat into his lap. Duck laughs, bites down once more and gets a nose full of fluff.

“AhCHOO!” His eyes pop open on reflex after he sneezes, sending the hidebehind out of view and Duck flat on the ground.

“Blasted physiology” Indrid chirrs, frustrated.

Duck sits up, Indrid’s cries of pleasure ringing in his ears and giving him all kinds of reckless ideas.

“Don’t worry, darlin. If my hidebehind wants to romancin’, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

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

He takes to wearing a kerchief around his neck at work. The loggers and company pencil pushers assume it’s an affectation, not a tool for covering his eyes for some uninterrupted kisses while deep in the woods. Today, he’s not sure kisses will be enough.

Duck woke up hard, dream of Indrid looming above him in bed fading into the morning sun. His hidebehind has yet to show himself, so the humans mind has nothing but his fantasies to distract him on his trek through the woods.

He’s ahead on his tasks for the day. He’s five miles deep in the woods. And he’s got an idea.

After rinsing his hands with water from his canteen, he leans back against a tree and undoes his suspenders, followed by his fly. Closing his eyes, he slips his fingers into his underwear, teasing himself and sending soft moans into the air. It doesn’t take long before he’s wet enough to push two up into himself with ease.

“‘Drid” he gasps, letting his head loll back, “‘Drid, fuck, that feels so fuckin good.”

A single leaf crunches in front of him, and his kerchief slowly slides up his face to shield his eyes.

“It is about to feel much better, dear one.” Indrid kisses the top of his head, “Shall I take this shameless display as evidence that you wish for me to, ah, fuck you?”

“That it does. And I’ll have you know I got plenty of shaAAmeWHoah.” Duck flails as his pants fall down and his body flies up in one smooth motion. Indrids claws prick his thighs as he spreads them open, holding him against the trunk with ease.

“So very polite of my sweet one to prepare himself for me. It makes this all the easier.” A round, bumpy cock teases his folds, pressing in with a stretch that makes Duck twist in his lovers hold.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s so fucking good but holy fuck, are you packin a fuckin pine tree down thereOH, ohfuckdarlin, that’s, that’s as far as it’s gonna go.”

“Half of it? My, who knew my human could take so much? Wait, it is not too much, correct?”

“N-nope, just the right amount” the bumps rub every inch inside him, one on the shaft catching his cock as Indrid thrusts and wiggles his hips.

“Wonderful” Indrid purrs, “I have dreamed of this all dayAHnnncareful” he chides after Duck bites the part of his arm he’s able to reach, “or I shall take you so roughly your back will wear imprints of bark for days.”

Duck whimpers excitedly, very aware of thick pre-cum dripping into him, “Yeah lets do that.”

He can hear the grin.

“If you insist.”

“FUCKohfuckohfuck” his hands scrabble at the tree and at Indrid’s arms, “that’s it darlin, that’s it, fuck, gonna give you the best goddamn rub-down after this, touch you until your body forgets what it’s like to be without my fuckin hands on it.” Leaves scatter in his hair and down the back of his shirt as Indrids fucking turns frantic.

“I, I shall hold you to that AHhnn, sweet one, you are so tight, so deliciously slick and inviting, I, I am not going to last long, you are too perfect, just touching you makes me burn like wildfire” His thrusts sharpen, never pushing too deep but making Duck feel like a log split beneath an axe of ecstasy, “Duck, sweetheart, yes, yesyesyes” Indrid spills into him, cum running out of Ducks body and back down his shaft.

For a minute, Duck is nothing more than a pinned specimen, spread eagle on the tree as Indrid shudders, purrs, and drags fuzzy kisses along his throat. Then his shirt rides up as he slips down the tree, but Indrid doesn’t put him down. Instead, a rough tongue glides up one thigh and then the other. The human gasps, gripping Indrid’s horns for balance as Indrid buries his face between his legs.

“Ohhhhhh, oh I do so love tasting how we mingle together.” Indrid’s breath is ragged and hot against his dick, “I am going to do this every day.”

“Please” Duck squeezes his horns, his orgasm painfully close, “please ‘Drid, wanna cum on your tongue, want you holdin me up while I, I-ohfuck.” His legs kick weakly as Indrid sucks him off, tongue lavishing his cock with so much friction he goes hoarse from moaning. The fact he cannot see makes it all the better, makes his world nothing more than Indrids mouth, his claws, his desire that wraps around Duck like vines.

He cums, arching his hips into the “thank yous” Indrid presses to his legs.

When his boots touch the ground, deft claws begin pulling his clothes into order, Indrid kissing and caressing him as he does.

“Y’know, I can get my own britches up.” Duck ruffles a nearby patch of feathers.

“I know, but I wish to take care of you. Hidebehinds are attentive to our mates, and while I cannot build you a nest, and I can least clean you up after you let me do something so wonderful with you.”

Duck wraps his arms around the cryptid, resting his cheek against him, “Would you wanna do this, uh, wonderful somethin again?”

“Of course.”

The human smiles, reaches his hand up to stroke Indrids cheek. This means he feels the hidebehind smile when Duck says, “Glad to hear it. But I’ll have you know, one of these days I’m gonna expect a nest.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #monster march #reader request #trans duck newton

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 11: Discharge Plan

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: The highs of Shane and Sy’s first weekend as a couple are followed up by some big news from Sy, leading to our couple’s first fight.

Don’t miss a session! Click here to catch up on this story or explore my other works!

Word Count: 2.7

Warnings: Language, mature themes, smut, sort of unprotected sex, rough-ish sex, angst, alcohol consumption,

Author’s Note: First off, I wanna talk about the word “victuals.” I’ve loved this word for a long time, even though it makes no sense, phonetically as it actually rhymes with the “fiddles” or “riddles.”(It’s true, look it up!) It’s very pastoral and somewhat archaic, so you don’t hear it too much anymore in current writing about the present, but I just felt like Sy would say it. Secondly, it was really hard for me to put my darlings through the argument in this chapter. I want them to have only happy times…but that provides no tension or motivation for story development…and I want to keep writing them more than I want them to be happy… I guess I finally understand why authors torture their characters! Lol! It might take a bit of time for me to sort out what their relationship looks like adding the distance factor, but I have some ideas that might work. Also, it might be an opportunity to do a bit more of Sy’s perspective, which I thoroughly enjoy, and may go back and fill in some blanks for him in between chapters I’ve already done. I hope you all enjoy this installment of the Treatment of Captain Syverson! Feedback in any form is always appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

@wheretheriversrunintothesea

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

The rest of the weekend was spent in blissful relaxation. Sy went to his place to feed Aika and bring her over at Shane's insistence. The dog had been slightly standoffish with her, but Sy assured her that it was in her nature to be aloof, and that she needed to be engaged or instructed to behave more doglike.

"It's her training. She's still a soldier. It's hard for us to shake those habits. Like me calling you 'ma'am' at first."

"She's another die hard. I respect that." she chuckled, scratching Aika behind her perked ears, and eliciting pants of contentment from her.

Sy's skills with a spatula were unmatched. That was to say, he made the best pancakes she'd ever had. They almost didn't need syrup…almost. They ordered an obscene amount of Chinese takeout which lasted them about three meals each. Sunday evening, though, which had a gloom to it no matter the circumstances, required some comfort food. They agreed on pasta, so Shane made up some of her famous alfredo sauce and probably twice the recommended portion of pasta for two humans to consume. There were no leftovers. Sy had three helpings, himself. Three heaping bowls of it. Shane couldn't handle more than one and a half servings, even though she wanted to gorge herself. She knew too much would make her ill.

When they weren't eating, the were cuddling on the couch, or in Shane's bed. They watched more Parks and Rec, and a few other films and shows that Sy requested, just to break things up. Their bodies were constantly wrapped in each other, leading to frequent bouts of making out, fooling around, and sex in almost every room of the house.

Her favorite had been the shower. She insisted on getting cleaned up, but Sy had objections.

~~~~~~~~

"I'll be less than ten minutes, come on, I reek! You can't wanna kiss me when I smell like this!" she said, trying to shut the bathroom door on the human mack truck before her. Broad and formidable.

"You smell like sex, and…me, darlin. I've never wanted to kiss you more," he said, backing her up toward the shower doors. "but I guess if you must. Lemme help, though." he pulled open the glass door, forcing her into his captivating kiss, and maneuvering her backward into the walk-in, stone tile shower. He pulled off her tank top, capturing her breasts in his hands and mouth for a moment before kneeling to remove her shorts and kiss her thighs. He pulled himself away too quickly and started the water flowing.

"Sy, you're fully dressed!" he was barefoot, but otherwise, in jeans and her favorite of his tees. The letters DILLIGAF across a skull, black on red. She always laughed on the inside when she saw it. Because although Sy often had to put on a calloused and brusque act when he'd been an officer in the Army, he was terribly soft and sweet when the occasion called for it. The irony being that although he didn't look like he gave a fuck, he actually did.

"I've got more clothes in the truck and you've got a dryer." he maneuvered her under the pulsing stream of the showerhead. "Gotta get you wet." he let the water run through her hair as he reached for her shampoo, a coconutty concoction that reminded her of summer, squeezed a bit into his hand, and lathered it up. He worked the suds into her wet hair gently, raking his nails across her scalp in a way that excited and ignited every atom in her. She sighed at his touch which made him groan with need.

He tilted her head back to rinse the lather out and reached for the conditioner. He was a bit more generous with it than strictly necessary, but she didn't protest. He pulled her hair forward in two sections, one over each shoulder and worked the emollient into the strands. His hands slick from the product, he ran them over her breasts and her abdomen and hips…between her legs. There her own arousal was primed to combine with the tropical unction. She gasped as he worked his fingers over her, slow at first, but speeding up, only to slow again. When she finally whimpered in frustration, he undid his jeans, and backed her up to the stony grey wall, not giving a fuck, as his shirt had suggested, that he and his clothes were getting soaked. His only care now apparently, was to satisfy the simpering cries of "yes, please." from Shane.

His first few thrusts were slow and measured, knowing that she was still adjusting to his size. But it didn't take long for him to lose control. She wasn't sure what was making him like this, but she was not complaining in the least. The texture of his jeans on her bare, wet thighs was a sensation she wouldn't soon forget. She gripped at him, holding onto his shirt for dear life as her climax built to impossible heights.

She was loving the way he lost himself in the ferocity of the act. And his release led to hers immediately. She wrapped herself around him in blissful embrace, and whispered his name as a prayer.

"Sorry, darlin,' I meant to…"

"It's okay. I'm on the pill and I'm not at a particularly dangerous time in my cycle."

He kissed her tenderly and reached for her bath puff and some body wash. "Well, let’s get ya cleaned up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only good part about Monday was that she'd be treating him. Although, he was scheduled in the afternoon. Her morning would drag on eternal.

He greeted her with a typical "hey, susnshine" and she led him into the gym, feeling his gaze on her ass, wanting, even though they'd just left each other quite satisfied that morning. He was freshly showered, beard well groomed, and his hair growing back in very nicely. He'd asked her weeks ago whether he should keep the buzzed look or not, and she had been entirely for growing it out. She wanted something to run her hands through. She'd be fine if it was at least shoulder length, but she wouldn't push that on him.

They did their normal warm up on the bikes, followed by some plyometric drills, which made him scowl at her in a way that lit her up like a firecracker. But the fact that he was able to jump up onto the box was encouraging. He couldn't have done that a month ago. He was progressing so well and was so close to his long term goals and discharge. It almost made Shane sad. It wasn't as though they wouldn't see each other, but having him break up the insanity of her day three times a week for just an hour was invaluable.

As they were doing their usual end of the session stretch in her treatment room, and she noted the improved range of motion he was getting, he broke the amiable silence with a question.

"Hey, can I bring a pizza or somethin' over for dinner tonight after you get off?"

"Sure!" she could tell there was something he wanted to say, but was holding back. She prodded. "Everything okay? You've been a bit…off today."

"I'm good. Just a little distracted." he deflected by touching her hip, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She swatted him away.

"Not here, Sy."

"But that makes it fun!" he pouted.

"No, that really could get me fired! Getting frisky on company time!"

"Mmmm, I'd love to frisk you right now." he reached between their legs to try and grab her again, but she thwarted him and pinned his wrists at his ears.

"Cool it, cowboy, or your last two sessions are gonna make you wish you'd never met me." she threatened.

"Ain't nothin', nothin' on God's good green earth could make me wish that, sunshine." His stunning blue eyes softened her resolve and she let go, continuing to stretch him.

"Still…cool it." she grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She'd just had time to change into some comfy clothes, wash her face, and put her hair up when her doorbell rang.

Sy stood smiling under the porch light, a modern white knight, carrying a large pizza from Pizza Hut and a six pack of Miller High Life.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! And it's nice to see you too, Sy!" she laughed, teasing him.

"Should I leave the victuals and go?" he asked, mock concern on his sarcastic brow.

"Get in here, soldier."

She got out napkins and paper plates because as horrible as it sounded, she just couldn't think about doing dishes tonight. She was even glad Sy had brought drinks in disposable or recyclable containers, and not wine, which she tended to prefer. She was exhausted, but not upset, which made the silence they ate in bearable. Sy still seemed to have something on his mind, though.

"Did you have something you wanted to talk about tonight, Sy?"

"Kinda, yeah, uh…it's kind of a big thing for me, and I know this is new, what we have, but…well, I'll just tell ya."

"Go on." she encouraged, worried.

"I…I talked to my old CO about jobs in the private sector. He referred me to a company that…well it's sort of an employment agency for vets. Mostly security for private companies and individuals. I had a phone interview with them this past Tuesday. I just got a call this morning that they want to meet me in person to finalize everything. Mostly a formality. When I go for that, I'll also have to stay there a couple of weeks to a month for training."

"Where is this…gig?" She said, flat affect hiding the feelings brewing under her skin.

"The offices are in Charlottesville…Virginia. And there may be some cross country training there in Shenandoah National Park."

"Cross country…by that do you mean survival training?" She was still cool, but getting more livid.

"You could call it that, I guess. But it won't be a challenge for me. I'm more worried about the technical stuff." His bravado and flippancy about the whole endeavor was enraging her. The thought that he'd be in the wilderness alone, was only a fraction of the big picture. He was going away for a month? And he had known about the job for a week now. A week in which so much about their relationship had changed, and shifted. How could he think she'd just accept this without a bit of raging.

"You waited until after we slept together to tell me this. You did it on purpose, Sy." that was the biggest problem, she thought. The fact that he seemed to be hiding it from her. It brought back old trauma that she thought he'd never have subjected her to.

"Yes and no, Shane. I wasn't intentionally keeping anything from you, I just didn't wanna bring it up until somebody bit."

"You wanted to keep me in the dark about something you were excited about? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I didn't wanna get your hopes up or mine. Honestly."

"Saying 'honestly' doesn't make it honest, Sy. I've told you about everything that Elliott put me through. The lies. The secrets. This puts a bad taste in my mouth. You have to see that. Can't you?"

"Oh, sunshine, I--"

"No, please. Do not do that right now. Don't call me sunshine when all I can see is the night."

"I'm so sorry. My intention was not to make you feel in any way like that asshole ever did. Please hear me when I say that. I want to be the opposite of him in your mind in every way, darlin.' Please believe that."

There was so much sincerity in his voice, now nearing tearfulness that she felt he must be telling her the truth. She nodded. But was still apprehensive about the nature of the job and the training.

"But…what if you get hurt again?"

"I won't. You've all but fixed me, Shane. I'm stronger than ever."

"Can't you just…find a safe job? Here?" She was being selfish. She couldn't help it. Even though she knew she might regret it.

"Sit at a desk, ya mean? Deliver pizzas?" he indicated the box between them on the table. "Call people and ask them if they're happy with their cable services, Shane? Is that all I'm good for now?" he was angry.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, of course not. You're a PT. That's what you were meant to do, right? Well, imagine if you couldn't do that no more. Something or another, an injury, perhaps, or just plain ol' shitty situation, left you in a position where you couldn't go back. Couldn't do your dream job. Couldn't fulfill your purpose." he spat. "Wouldn't you do anything you could to be some shadow of what you were meant to be?"

She couldn't speak. Because he was right in so many ways.

"Because right now, I'm nothin'. I'm not doin' anyone any good. I'm a drain on my country, the one I swore to protect with my very life. It's like I've broken an oath. And it's fractured my soul."

"I see that. I truly do. But I need you here. You do ME good, Sy. I'm already half dreading d/c'ing you. I don't wanna have to say a goodbye, too." it was her truth. But it hit him very much sideways.

"So…what is it, Shane? You only want me when I'm broken? You only want me so you can fix me?"

"No, of course not! That's not what--"

"Am I a charity case to ya now? Is that why ya finally gave in and let me in your bed?"

"Sy, no!" she was crying now. It had hurt so much to think that he could have gotten that from what she'd said.

"I think if you can have feelings hurt about this situation then so can I."

He stood to leave, but she caught him by the wrist.

"Shane…you know I would never, ever harm you. But please… don't test my limits. Let… go." She did.

She was still quite a bit faster than him, so she ran ahead and blocked the door.

"Move." he insisted. She didn't.

"Hear me out, and then I'll let you go."

He crossed his arms and nodded, his gaze still one of cold steel.

"Sy, I didn't mean to make this job that you're clearly excited for into a source of anguish or to make it about me. I'm thrilled that you're going to get to do something you want in another field. I really am. I just…being with you has made me realize how good life can really be. And even if you'd told me before we slept together, I would have said the same thing. It was selfish of me to haul my baggage into the conversation when you aren't, have never been, and could never be Elliot. His best couldn't compare with your worst. And I will do my best in the future to think about who you are before I complain about the work you find to do."

"It's like I said about Aika before. She's a soldier. Hard trained. And so am I. It took a lot of hard work for me to get where I am, so much that it fundamentally altered who I am as a person. Now, in my opinion, those changes were for the better. I was kind of a shit before I became a soldier, thought the sun rose and set with me. I got some perspective and met some good people…lost some, too. Saw some shit I can't unsee. Some of it haunts me to this day, and I figure it always will. But I reckon if I can keep fighting the fight somehow. Keep protecting people in whatever way I can, my training and experience won't be a total waste."

"I understand and respect that, Sy. And I will back you in any way I can. I'll water your plants, I'll keep Aika whenever you're gone, I'm here for you."

"Oh, shit! I wasn't even thinking about having to leave my dog behind! Maybe this WON'T work!" he chuckled.

"Second fiddle to another woman already. I knew you were gonna break my heart, Captain Logan Syverson."

"Never intentionally, sunshine." he hugged her, tight, and with his whole body. Their argument in the past and their future an exciting mystery. Shane had never felt so safe and loved.

Up Next: Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sigh for sy #syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc

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samwritesforyou · 5 years ago

Text

We’re gonna be okay

Diego x reader

Summary: You and Diego worked out a system for a situation if he ever comes to your place while being in the highest form of distress and needs your help. He assured you it won’t happen often. Until one night, it finally did.

A/N: i feel like i’ve read the whole tumblr dot com worth of diego x reader fanfics and yet i still wanted more, so the desperate need to finally write something myself has been fulfilled. i would actually love to take requests, so if you want, dont hesitate to message/ask me! im ready to write fics and headcanons :) (my blog might seem new but ive been on tumblr for years and years and i finally dedicated a new blog to mostly reader inserts, either my own or reblogging others)

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, gender neutral reader

Wordcount: 3,350

There was a knock on the door.

It was pretty late, but not too late for it to be Diego yet.

Or so you thought.

You got up kinda lazily from a comfortable chair you had situated in the corner of a room, at first designed mainly for reading or napping, but ending up doing absolutely whatever you could on the spot. Eating pizza, watching netflix, browsing through the internet after long working hours that you put in into your tiny art selling business.

You slightly opened the door and already plastered a semi-fake smile for a possible neighbor, but in front of you stood Diego.

Your dear friend, who was at the moment soaked from the rain outside, with big eyes, fast breathing and bloody hands.

Bloody hands?!

“Hello to you too, friend!” you said quite worried, quickly patting him down for signs of any physical pain. For the first time in a while he seemed fine, unscarred.

Your eyes finally went up, literally scanning his face but it was completely unreadable.

His eyes were wide and he looked as if he couldn’t comprehend what was going on around him.

You looked down again and took his fists into your hands. His own palms unclenched and you could see that they were heavily bloodied.

“Diego.. whose blood is it?”

No answer.

You rushed him inside and closed the door behind the two of you, facing the damn vigilante again.

“Diego, I need to know who’s blood is on your hands,” your voice grew steadier as you knitted your brows together in worry and confusion.

Only then the guy decided to move his arms and you noticed how shaky he is. He connected his two index fingers in the form of a cross, pressing it to his chest.

Your own eyes went wide now as you stumbled back a few steps and your mind went blank.

You instantly remembered a night that happened a few years back. He has come in crumbling through your window and was obviously in some new form of distress, that you couldn’t quite understand yet.

“Diego?” it seemed like your voice didn’t reach his ears, so you tried calling out his name again, getting up from the couch and patting him lightly on the body, to determine any sign of an injury.

It looked like there was none, so you tried to reach his gaze that was somewhat absentminded, all over the place, scanning everything but not meeting your eyes.

He was a tough guy, and you knew it. You knew that if you want to get answers, you need to either get them yourself or make yourself heard, until he cannot ignore you any longer.

“Diego Hargreeves, what is going on?” your voice was soft yet determined.

His dark orbs finally stopped on your face and he just shook his head, his breathing oddly fast for a man who was just simply standing.

You continued to push. You didn’t have the best day either, and to be interrupted at 1am by his visit was nothing new, but you couldn’t let him have this behaviour. Even though you’re friends, that didn’t automatically mean that he could do whatever he wanted.

Throughout the whole night he didn’t say a thing, but when you started adding volume to your voice, he.. he just broke down.

That night, you’ve witnessed Diego experience a panic attack. Caused by yourself.

You couldn’t fall asleep that night, even after you eventually calmed him down and the only thing that was left to do for you was to watch him sleep and slowly rubbing circles on his exposed arm out of the blanket.

It felt like neons before you noticed a first ray of sunshine drawing from the half-closed curtains, making you spring to your feet and drag your ass to the kitchen, trying to think of what to do for breakfast.

When you figured the recipe out and finished cooking, Diego was already up and joined you near the kitchen counter, next to which you had two stools.

He settled on one of them, looking at you.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you couldn’t muster anything better, so you just put a plate in front of him and then sat next to his side, simply digging into your portion of scrambled eggs.

“About last night, y/n..” he drifted off, probably at first deciding that it’s better to fill his stomach a little bit.

In the meantime you didn’t dare to speak up and just waited for him to say something, anything.

When he finished his meal, he finally turned to you with a sigh.

“You know that one guy I told you ‘bout? That we.. we do some vigilante shit together from time to time?”

You just nodded, not meeting his eyes.

“Well. I guess I could count him as a close friend. You know.. and,” this was followed by a slight pause and clearing of the throat.

“He died yesterday. I couldn’t save him.”

Your eyes immediately shot up to Diego and all that vulnerability and hurt that you’ve clearly seen yesterday just overtaking him were completely gone. Now present only a strong facade that he mastered whenever he needed to hide from showing emotions. You hated it.

“Shit, Diego..” you spoke quietly and softly, all the words seemed to have left you in all the things unsaid in your throat. But you tried to continue.

“I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry for pushing you over the edge. I.. I didn’t know what happened so I just acted how we would normally do,” he smirked at that, merely for a second, but you still caught it.

“Look, I.. I know, “ he simply said and then it felt as if he was weighting pros and cons of telling you something else that was clearly on his chest.

“You always help me out. Every single night I come to you.. Why do you do it, y/n?” Diego’s eyes were steadily turned your way.

At the sudden question you raised an eyebrow, “well, I.. I care about you.”

He lightly bit his lower lip and turned his gaze away, clearly thinking about something really hard.

“Okay,” he finally said, “y/n, do you think I could ask you for a favour then?”

At that your eyes met and you felt nervous, for some reason.

You really liked him. Not just like a friend. But you understood that there probably won’t be a chance for you two to ever become a couple (mostly considering that you didn’t believe that he could feel about you this way), so you settled for friendship anyways, since you two really got along well.

And having this handsome tough guy as a friend? Damn, just that is already some kind of luck swinging your way.

But your feelings of course meant that.. you’d do more for him than what you’d do just for a friend. You would get out of your comfort zone just to help him with injuries or hear him talk about his girlfriend (at the time, now they were broken up) and how they argued so much that he ended up on the streets and didn’t really want to go to his lonely place at the gym.

And you took him in. You always did. And since the day you became friends you always care for him.

And you’d care now once again.

“What is it?” in your tone danced a question, troubled with what he might ask for.

“Well, yesterday-“ he cut himself from finishing and cleared his throat, starting over.

“I imagine we’re gonna be friends for a long time, right?”

You just pushed your brows up with a small nod in affirmation.

“I never had.. anyone, really, to help me with the states I often got into,” you immediately thought of Eudora, wasn��t his ex-girlfriend supposed to be his support pillar? Or is he just making you feel sorry for him-

“Or I didn’t ever trust anyone that much, you know,” oh, okay, that kind of explains that then.

“And I guess.. I trust you enough? To share this?” he talked quietly and mumbled a lot so you realised soon you won’t be able to hear him at all.

You grabbed his hands with yours and caught his attention this way.

You were never really touchy together, but occasional hugs and even holding hands was kind of a standard for you from time to time.

His eyes met yours again and you cursed yourself for your heartbeat getting faster. This is not an appropriate moment to get butterflies in your stomach, dammit.

“I’m listening, Diego,” you confirmed, nodding again.

“Okay. It’s- it’s just really h-hard to talk about this,” he stuttered a bit, but with the next breath continued again, “When there’s some situation that’s just completely fucked up, like losing someone close to me, or- or somethin’ else, I don’t know.. I finish what I need at the scene where it happened but when I come home I just,” he breathed some air in and you felt his hands squeeze yours a bit tighter, “I just break down, you know? Sometimes it’s just all too much for me and I don’t know how to deal with it and I would just wanna.. someone to hold me, I guess? Otherwise when someone’s trying to talk at me or somethin’ I just get even more worked up and it’s even worse.”

It all started to come together in your mind. Even though it sounded really strange to hear Diego talk about things like.. wanting to be held and shit. But you always guessed there’s a far bigger sweetheart and a soft boy underneath all those harness and knives.

You tried to pick your words carefully.

“So when I started to ask you shit.. You just flipped. Basically because I was talking at you a lot and you couldn’t take it anymore, right?”

He sighed and looked somewhere up, nodding bit by bit.

“Yeah, yep. That was it.”

You clapped at his hands lightly, to bring his focus back again and he looked at you and mustered a sad, faint smile.

You did the same. In the world you lived in, unforeseen and unfortunate events were happening left and right and thinking about his childhood and everything.. no wonders he developed such a huge reaction and coping mechanism to something catastrophic happening.

“That’s okay, Diego. I’m here for you, I mean it. Let’s just talk about some things what I should and shouldn’t do when you come here in that state, alright? I just want you to feel comfortable.”

“Alright. Thank you, y/n,” he was looking down now, the whole morning kinda failing to meet your gaze and just rubbed his thumb across your hand, which send you heart into a race again.

You slowly let go of him, making an excuse to go wash the dishes.

After a while you looked behind you where he sat and said, “We also need some sort of a sign that you can easily show me, since you’re not really talkative when you get like this.”

Apparently he already used said “sign” somewhere, because he had it on the ready.

It was his hands clutching in fists, index fingers crossing each other in a form of a cross, pressed to his chest.

“Something like this. But don’t worry, I don’t think it’ll happen often. That would be really sad,” he laughed a little and then looked at you somewhat longingly and you averted your eyes back to the sink, nodding.

You almost forgot about that and now it all come flooding back.

Something terrible must’ve happened. You were panicking, but you had to stay strong, for him.

He was still standing in your hallway, with a crossed index fingers pressed to his chest.

“Okay, okay..” you mumbled more to yourself than to him, taking his hands into yours and looking him up and down.

He really seemed.. disconnected. It was kind of scary and you tried so hard not to think about what happened. Or about who died.

“Here, come with me, Diego,” you led him by the hand towards your couch as he was holding onto you, but his usual grip was gone.

You both ended up on a sofa and you really didn’t know how to act around him now, because.. he didn’t talk, didn’t look at you but when he did, his eyes were wide and big and he just seemed suddenly like a small boy to you.

Hopefully he won’t remember this tomorrow, you thought and tried to smile a little bit at him.

“Okay. Can you get your hands up for me, baby boy?” You’ve decided to approach this situation as if you were just babysitting an overgrown child.

Because nothing bad happens to children normally, right? And if you kept thinking about him as usual grown man Diego, you’d lose your mind in the process, wanting to scream and shake him by the shoulders until he spills you what happened.

Being Diego’s friend pushed you to new limits each day, truly.

He didn’t bat an eyelid at your tone change and word choosing, just obliging and putting his hands up.

You helped him to get his knives down and put his black turtleneck over his head, so now he sat shirtless right next to you, hands still smeared with blood.

Goddamit the blood!

You took him by the elbows and lead Diego to the bathroom, where you helped to get the red out of his hands. At the sight of blood dripping down into the sink you deciphered a whimper from him, even through the sound of running water and looked up.

Diego couldn’t stop looking down at his hands and tears were running down his cheeks.

You quickly took his face into your wet hands from the water and forced him to look away and lock his gaze with yours.

“Hey, don’t look at it, okay? It’ll only make you stressed. Until I’m done you can just close you eyes, okay?”

“Oh-okay,” he said and just closed his eyes here and there.

You sighed and tried to finish washing his hands as fast as possible, cursing under your breath pretty often.

“I’m sorry..” you heard him mumble and when you looked up, his eyes were still shut.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.. We’ll talk about this tomorrow, right? Don’t worry. You’re safe now,” you smiled as you were already wrapping his hands in a towel and his eyelashes fluttered, eyes opening.

You stayed looking at each other for a second longer than necessary, but then you already lead him away to the bedroom area, where you actually tucked him in, wrapping in a soft blanket and then rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a few cookies and then leaving it on a plate next to him on the night table.

You almost made yourself comfortable on the couch, when he suddenly called out your name from the bed.

You sprung to your feet, thinking he’s actually hurt but you didn’t notice or that- “Can you... stay with me? P-please?” he asked, disrupting your train of thought. You did expect this, but still felt really shy about that.

Diego is vulnerable right now and does need your help and presence though.

And there wouldn’t be anything you wouldn’t do for him.

“Sure,” and after this simple answer you carefully climbed in next to him covering you both with a blanket and he curled up closer to you, almost immediately falling asleep.

From one point of view it felt like you wouldn’t sleep at all tonight, but from the other one.. you actually fell asleep just as fast as he did.

To nobody’s surprise you woke up first and actually flinched at the sight of sleeping Diego inches from your own face.

Your mind went running with ideas what happened and what’s going on until you realised the real deal and your brain caught up to yesterday’s shenanigans.

It was a wild ride and you were thankful that now it’s - most probably - over.

Your eyes were subconsciously scanning his face, until you realised what you’re doing, but you didn’t stop even then.

You’ve never been this close to his face yet and now you could admire and explore every part of it.

Having feelings for a friend that’s laying in the same bed with you at the moment is really not the healthiest thing that could’ve happened to you, huh..

You actually froze and your heart started racing billion times faster when you realised that you have a weight of his arm around your waist, pulling you closer from his sleep.

He grunted and his nose was now in your hair, shuffling a little to get more comfortable.

You had no idea how to change positions, especially when being held by such a strong arm as his and you got a feeling like Diego might actually wake up just about now, so the best solution that came into your mind was to forcefully close your eyes shut and pretend that you’re still sleeping.

He did, indeed, wake up. You were suddenly pushed to the other side of the bed, arm disappearing from your waist and a waterfall of curses fell from his lips quietly.

You used up all your acting stamina to make a believable scene of you gaining your conscious from the deep slumber that you were obviously in, stretched your arms for a good effect and finally opened your eyes.

You immediately signed up for a staring contest as soon as you looked at him and smiled a little. His face remained unreadable but perhaps a little bit flustered?.. But you may be reading too much into it.

“Hi,” you said with a higher tone than intended and Diego just nodded at that.

You tried your luck by addressing the elephant in the room right away, you never liked ignoring the problems that were always looming over you, “care to tell me what happened yesterday?”

He drew a big sigh and rested his head back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

You couldn’t stop looking at him. At first because you really wanted to know the mystery, but the longer you looked at him, the more you realised that you’re just admiring the beauty that he holds, until his words fell like a dead weight right onto your shoulders.

“I found Eudora’s body yesterday. I couldn’t get to the place in time and someone killed her.”

What?

It felt like what he said was simply a trick of your imagination. You liked Eudora yourself, she was a very intelligent and an interesting person, you two often hung out and that feeling didn’t cease even after you found out that she and Diego started dating.

And even when they broke up some months after, you still found your way to spend time with her. So did Diego.

You wanted to cry, but thought that it might be insensitive towards him, because he was much closer to her than you were, so you tried to swallow your forming tears down.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry, Diego..”

“It’s your loss too, I know it, y/n,” he looked at you with much softer look this time.

“Come here,” he said a little bit hesitantly and opened up one arm towards you.

This was unusual, but maybe last night’s events tore down some walls?.. Who knows.

You almost threw yourself into his embrace and once your forehead rested on his chest, you started crying.

From everything, honestly. There’s been problems at work, your seemingly unrequited feelings for Diego didn’t help much either and now you learned that you lost one of your friends.

He started rubbing circles on your back, just letting you get those emotions out, while you two were hugging each other on the bed in your apartment.

And as you slowly started to calm down, he said a gentle, “it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay”

#diego x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #tua diego #diego reader insert #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #umbrella academy x reader #diego hargreeves #number two

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general-kenobi357 · 4 years ago

Text

Someday Soon-Chapter 3

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!OC

Summary: After finding a new lead the hunt to find the Royal Merchant is on.

Word Count: 4.4k

🔅🔆🔅

We all waited anxiously as Kie began to climb out of the mausoleum. I grabbed her flashlight as the boys helped her back onto the ground.

“That's not gold.” JJ stated, as we all examined the FedEx bag Kie had found.

“Holy shit.” John B stuttered, taking the package from Kie’s grasp. “This is from my dad.”

“Code red. Code red. Square groupers! Square groupers!” JJ alerted us to the car that was pulling up. “It's the guys who robbed your house.”

“Light! Light.” Pope reminded us all, as we ducked down to avoid being caught.

“Turn your light off, man!” John B urged JJ, who sat between me and John B, struggling with his head lamp. Reaching over I turned it off for him before we got caught. We all sat in silence. The only sound you could hear was our panicked breathing as we waited for something to happen.

“Do you think it's them?” Kie asked us all.

“Homie's got a gun.” JJ concluded, as he leaned over me to peer around the corner.

“Screw this.” Kie said standing up and breaking into a sprint towards the van.

I sat stunned for a moment more before I felt someone grab my hand and pull me to my feet. Before I knew it we stopped at the tall gate that stood between us and our escape.

“You have to climb over the fence, Sweetheart.” JJ told me, leaning close to my ear and snapping me out of my trance. The only thing I could hear was his voice. “Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” I muttered, as all of our friends began to scale the fence. “I think so.”

As I jumped onto the ground on the other side I finally felt as if I knew where I was again. JJ grabbed my hand again once he landed beside me.

“Hurry up!” Kie urged us all from her spot next to the van.

“Guys! Guys! Guys, I'm stuck.” Pope called out from the top of the gate where his shorts had gotten caught.

“Pope, come on!” JJ called out, just before he realized Pope couldn’t. “Alright hold still.” He concluded letting go of my hand so he could dig through his backpack. It took me a minute before I realized what he was looking for.

“No JJ.” I scolded him before turning to Pope. “Pope you have to jump.”

“You're gonna rip me.” Pope warned, as Kie and John B started to pull him down. “Wait. You're gonna rip me!”

“You're fine. Come on!” Kie told him as his pants tore and he could finally get down.

“Pope, come on!” John B said once he was on the ground. We all began running to the van before we were caught. Tires screeched against the pavement as we finally fled the scene.

🔅🔆🔅

Back at the Château we all began to gather around the table ready to find out what Kie had found back at the graveyard.

“That bread had mold on it three days ago.” Pope said in disgust, from the kitchen to my right.

“I'll just pull off the bad parts.” JJ reasoned, making me cringe in disgust. “Plus, mold is good for you. It's just a natural organism.”

“JJ!” Kie urged not willing to wait any longer to see what they had found.

“Yup, yup, yup! Let's do it.” JJ called hurrying into the room with a sandwich in hand. I turned around from where I stood behind John B, watching him take a bite before promptly spitting it into his hand.

“Holy shit.” I heard John B mutter as he opened the bag and dumped its contents onto the table.

“Oh. X marks the spot.” Pope pointed to the X on the map that John B was unfolding.

“Longitude, latitude.” John B pointed out, as we all examined the map of the ocean which surrounded the Outer Banks.

“Wait, there's somethin' else in there.” I said, noticing the map wasn’t the only thing we had found.

“What's that?” JJ asked from his spot beside me.

“It's a tape recorder, dumbass.” Kie answered, sounding frustrated and I couldn’t blame her. We had been through a lot that day and we were all becoming more exhausted as the day dragged out.

John B reached for the tape recorder before hitting the button on the side so it would start playing whatever had been recorded.

“Dear Bird.” A deep voice started speaking. I recognized the voice but without seeing a face I couldn’t place who it was, partially due to the fact I was so tired.

“Who's Bird?” JJ asked.

“That's what my dad called me.” John B answered and suddenly my tired mind put together the pieces and I realized this was all from John B’s father.

“I hate to say, ‘I told you so,’ but I told you so. And you doubted your old man. I suspect at this moment, you're filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight, but don't kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn't expect to find the Merchant either…”

As the tape ended we all looked at John B who sat in shock at what his father had just told us all.

“Holy shit, he did it!” JJ exclaimed in shock. “Big John... He found the Merchant…”

“Can you... can you please?” Kie stopped JJ from talking as we watched John B stand up in tears.

“Sorry.” JJ mumbled, realizing his mistake. Kie moved to comfort John B who was barely holding it together.

I turned back to JJ to give John B and Kie a minute, Pope was examining the map again and I saw the guilty look JJ held.

“Come on.” I told JJ, placing a hand on his shoulder to direct him towards the door. “I think there’s some mold free bread at my house.

🔅🔆🔅

“Shh.” I reminded JJ, as we entered the dark house, knowing my mom and sister were probably fast asleep inside.

Once in the kitchen I started to grab everything I needed to make us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, as JJ jumped up to sit on the counter. A comfortable silence fell over us as I made us food. I handed him a plate as I took my own out onto the porch so we didn’t have to be as quiet.

“I’m sorry.” I finally spoke up as we began to eat.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“I’m sorry. I flipped out at you before and I shouldn’t have. You were right, you were just trying to be there for John B.” I explained, remembering the events that had occurred earlier that day.

“Well in all fairness you were also right, I definitely went about it the wrong way.” He responded, making me laugh a little.

“So you still want to be my friend?” I asked, watching his face fall slightly which confused me.

“Of course.” He assured me with a small smile. I smiled back as we finished eating.

Once again we were back to being best friends and laughing as we joked around while we headed back over to the rest of the Pogues.

🔅🔆🔅

After gathering the rest of the Pogues we had made our way to John B’s dock where we all sat, drinking again. I sat next to JJ leaning against him. The events of the day were starting to catch up to me and I felt as if I might crash soon. I listened to the others discuss the Royal Merchant while I tried to keep myself awake.

“How much was it again?” Pope asked.

“Four hundred mil.” John B reminded, he sounded as if he couldn’t even imagine a number that big.

“All right, let's talk the split.” JJ spoke up, I could feel the vibrations of his voice pass from him to me, keeping me slightly more awake. “Now, before we say ‘evenly,’ may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us. Protection? Not cheap, okay?”

“You haven't trained.” Pope told him. “You've done zero training.”

“YouTube, bro! That's at least a five percent bump right there. Any objections? Didn't think so.” He concluded which made me laugh.

“Yeah.” Pope tried to object but JJ had already moved on.

“What are you gonna do with your 80 mil, Pope?” JJ asked curiously.

“Pay for college in advance. And also, textbooks. Those are expensive.” Pope explained confidently. “What about you, Kie?”

“Yeah, what does a socialist do when she's rich?” John B asked.

“I just wanna make a double album.” She told us wishfully. “About OBX, the Pogues. You know, the way Catch a Fire is about Kingston. Record it at Marley Studio, Peter Tosh producing.”

“Peter Tosh is dead.” John B tried to reason.

“Peter Tosh is dead.” Kie agreed. “I know. Spirit of Peter Tosh will never die.”

“What about you Iz?” John B asked, as everyone turned to look at me.

“Well, I’m gonna buy my Mom our old house on Figure Eight. Then I'm moving to Hawaii, I’ll build a little house right on the beach. Surf every morning.” I explained, smiling while I thought about it all.

“How are you going to build a house? You can’t even use a screwdriver.” JJ teased me.

“Hey if Kie gets a dead producer, I get to pretend I know how to build a house.” I reasoned.

“Alright well, I know what I'll do.” JJ told us. “I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight and go full Kook.”

“You're gonna go full Kook?” I asked laughing at the thought.

“Yup.” He nodded. “Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond. Put a bunch of those fish…”

“I'm never visiting.” Kie warned. “What are you gonna do, JB?”

“To going full Kook.” He decided finally, raising his beer.

“To going full Kook!” We all agreed as we clinked our beers together.

🔅🔆🔅

“All right, keep a look out.” JJ warned us all as we pulled up to the nicest hotel on the island. “We're behind enemy lines.”

I’d been here a few times before, once with my dad when I was young and a couple of times I had gone to see JJ on his lunch break. It still amazed me every time, especially now when I knew what it was like on the cut.

“Yo, come on, man. Just put it back.” Pope urged, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked back into the van where JJ sat messing around with his new favorite toy.

“What? You can never be too careful.” JJ reasoned.

“Hey, I predict that bringing a weapon to a four-star hotel will likely cause more problems than they solve.”

“I swear to God, I'm gonna throw that thing in the ocean, JJ.” Kie warned him from the backseat of the van.

“Put it back.” I told him, taking the gun from his grasp and placing it back into the glove compartment. It seemed like me having to take away the gun from him was becoming more of a common occurrence.

“You can't grab a gun like that.” JJ explained, before he bent over to shuffle through his backpack. “Can't forget my badge. Professional busboy.” He reminded me, flashing the badge in front of my face.

“So, where are we going now?” Pope asked, as we all followed JJ to the kitchen entrance.

“We're getting on the internet because only rich people have electricity right now.” JJ explained, as we walked through the lobby of the hotel, most of the guests stared and I didn’t blame them. A group of Pogues willingly in the middle of Figure Eight was not a common occurrence. “See, they got the backup generators going? Kooks don't miss a beat.”

“Sweet Lord, the internet!” Pope cried out, as we entered the computer room. “I've missed you.”

“Let me get in there.” JJ said, sitting down next to Pope. “Gotta check out my Insta models.”

“We don't have time.” Kie tried to remind him that we were on a mission here.

“Coordinates, please?” Pope asked, getting ready to search them.

“34° 57' 30 " north. 75° 55' 42" west.” John B read off the map. “Boom, continental shelf right there.”

“Well, if it's off the deep end, it's not gonna be much of a treasure hunt, is it?” I reminded him trying not to get my hopes up yet.

“Come on, baby.” Pope muttered, as he zoomed in on the map and we all leaned in closer to get a better look. “Come on.”

“Shit, it's on the high side. It's only 900 feet.” John B let out the breath he was holding.

“That's not too deep.” JJ supplied.

“Is that doable or something?” Kie asked confused.

“Yeah, totally doable.” JJ responded.

“Will we be taking your personal submarine?” Pope asked.

“How do you know this, Mr. Dive Master?” I added.

“The salvage yard. They got a drone that can drop 1,000. It has a 360 camera and everything.” JJ explained to us. “It's for, like, deep dives and stuff. It's exactly what we need.”

“Can your dad get his grimy little hands on that?” John B asked, hopefully.

“Well, my dad's grimy little hands got his ass fired.” JJ informed us. “I guess the salvage captain frowns on showing up shitfaced, turns out. But the drone's there. It's in the impound yard out back.”

“How much did you say was on the Royal Merchant again?” I asked trying to weigh the pros and cons in my mind.

“400 million.” John B reminded us.

“400 mil.” JJ confirmed as we all seemed to come to an agreement that whatever we had to do was worth it.

“No. Absolutely not. Absolutely not. No!” Pope realized what was going on. He rushed to the door trying to block our way.

“Pope! Move.” Kie urged.

“Can't we do anything legal for money?” Pope asked me as I walked past him following the rest of the Pogues.

“When you have 400 million dollars everything is legal.” I reasoned with him.

🔅🔆🔅

“Pope, we're not stealing the drone. We're borrowing it.” John B explained, we were all still trying to get him on board with the plan.

"Humans are the only animal that can't tell fantasy from reality." Pope told us hopelessly.

“Did you come up with that?”

“Albert Bernstein came up with it, but it applies to this whole treasure-hunting thing. So, which is it? Fantasy or reality?”

“Why are you so weird, Pope?” JJ asked, more focused on the joint he was rolling than the conversation we were all having.

“It's fantasy, but possible reality.” John B concluded, after thinking for a moment.

“Reality.” Kie reassured from beside him.

“Virtual reality.” JJ told us all, as Pope grabbed the joint from between his lips before JJ could light it.

“Keep the signal clear.”

“You know what your problem is?”

“You?”

“No! It's that you need to relax, man. You're always so tense!”

“I'm not too tense.”

“Alright you two.” I tried to stop their bickering as I climbed over JJ to get out of the van. Turning back to them I added. “Don’t be stupid, okay?”

“Sweetheart, that’s a big ask.” JJ tried to reason with me.

“Yeah I’m not sure you’ve met JJ.” Pope added.

“Hey I’m not the only one who does stupid stuff.” JJ argued as they started up their bickering again.

“Fine.” I interrupted. “Just… please try to stay out of jail?”

“Yeah alright we can do that I guess.” JJ concluded.

After leaving the boys behind I followed Kie towards her car.

“Alright, I’ll let the air out if you want to go get the guard?” I asked her circling around to the back of the trailer.

As the guard came over to the trailer I pretended to be inspecting the tire I had just flattened.

“It's too easy.” Kie whispered to me, as I stood up to give the guard some space.

“So he just kissed you?” I asked Kie, she had just been recounting what had happened to her and John B when we had left them at the lighthouse. It was nice to talk with her about boy problems. It reminded me of simpler times before we had begun looking for buried treasure and had our lives threatened.

“Yeah and I had no idea what to do.” Kie explained.

I was about to respond when we heard a dog barking from inside the yard.

“Do you hear that?” The guard asked us.

“Hear what?” I asked innocently.

“Oh, Tebow's got somethin'.” He told us.

“It's probably just a raccoon, maybe. You know?” Kie tried to cover for the boys. “Nothin' to worry about. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He said going back to the tire.

“I’m gonna go give them some more time.” I mumbled to Kie before I went over to the other side of the trailer.

“Are you sure that one’s good?” Kie asked, warning me that the guard was done.

“What are you doing?” He demanded as I stood up from the tire.

“This one looks a little low too.” I tried to cover.

“Wait! Wait!” Kie called. But it was too late he was already running back into the yard.

“Shit.” I muttered as we got into Kie’s car. Hoping that the boys had made it out in time.

🔅🔆🔅

“Stealing drones makes you hungry.” Kie joked as John B parked the van in front of The Wreck.

“What I would do to a beer and shrimp and grits right now.” JJ told us as we all piled out of the van.

“It would not be pretty.” Pope teased.

As we walked into the restaurant I saw Kie’s dad frown from behind the counter, he definitely was not our biggest fan. After some convincing Kie walked back to us and told us to sit down as her dad brought out food for us all. I sat down between JJ and Pope as we all dug in.

As we finished up Kie stood and turned up the music that had been playing softly in the background. After some convincing John B joined her as JJ and I laughed at their ridiculous dancing.

Noticing Pope was being especially quiet, I looked back at him concerned, he looked as if someone had taken away his puppy.

“You think Pope’s okay?” I whispered to JJ.

“Yeah.” JJ replied, looking at Pope before turning back to me. “He’s just madly in love with a girl and doesn’t know how to tell her.”

“Hmm.” I hummed, still looking at Pope with concern.

“Come on.” JJ said, pulling me to my feet so we could join John B and Kie. I laughed as he spun me around.

“Pope, what are you waiting for?” I asked with a smile as I held out my hand for him and he reluctantly stood up.

And as we all danced together I forgot about the rest of the world for a couple minutes and enjoyed this moment with all my friends.

🔅🔆🔅

The next morning we had gathered on John B’s dock so that Pope could get a handle on the drone controls before we took it out on the open water. I sat in front of Pope and JJ with my feet in the water basking in the sun. I could see storm clouds brewing on the horizon but they hadn’t hit the island yet, for now everything was calm.

“What's this?” I heard JJ ask.

“Don't touch that.” Pope shooed JJ away so he sat down beside me. “I'm trying to work out this thing.”

“God bless geeks, Pope. Truly, man.” JJ added. “What would we do without you to control the drones?”

“It's not a drone. It's an ROV.”

“Shut up. Shut up. It's too early for that right now.”

“Hey, play nice boys.” I reminded them looking between the two.

“Hey, once we get footage of the wreck, we'll bring it to a lawyer in town and file a formal claim.” John B informed us from the water.

“It's bullshit. Why do we have to do that?” JJ sounded like a little kid being told he had to go home from the playground.

“Well, there is maritime salvage law.” Pope told us.

“You can't just go to the ocean floor and scoop a bunch of stuff up.” John B added.

“I know. I know. It's just lawyers aren't cheap, bro.” JJ reasoned.

“As soon as they see the footage, they'll work for a comp.”

“How do you know all of that?” I asked John B.

“'Cause my dad said it, like, a million times.”

“This tether is, like, really long.” Pope spoke up. “In the wrong weather, it could get pushed around.”

“Then we'll go at dead calm.” Kie reasoned as she climbed out of the water. “Slack tide?”

“So now, we just gotta wait around for the right weather.” Pope told us, as we listened to the far away thunder. “And today is not that day.”

As we walked back towards the Château I heard my Mom calling me from the porch of our house.

“Shoot, I forgot I was working today.” I said to the rest of the Pogues.

“You still want us to pick you up later?” JJ asked, as I checked my bag to make sure I had everything.

“Uh yeah, if you’re gonna be over there.” I responded not wanting to inconvenience them.

“Yeah, JJ and I are dropping off groceries on Figure Eight for my dad.” Pope explained.

“Okay, awesome. I’ll be at the Osborne’s house it’s like two docks down from the Cameron's.” I explained, as I made my way over to my mom’s car. “Bye!”

🔅🔆🔅

As I finished vacuuming I glanced at the clock on the wall of the Osborne’s house, this was the last house I had to clean today and JJ and Pope were set to pick me up soon. After I finished cleaning up, I headed downstairs to grab my stuff.

“Hey, you all done?” Mrs. Osborne asked me as I entered the kitchen. She had always been nice to me, well nicer than most Kooks.

“Yep.” I responded, putting the tip she had just handed me into my bag.

“Awesome, thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll see you in two weeks.” I told her.

“I’ll walk you out.” she said motioning in the direction of the front door.

“Oh, actually my friends are picking me up on your dock.”

“Oh okay.” She said, seeming a little confused.

“Bye!” I called out as I shut her back door and made my way toward the long dock. As I stepped out onto the dock I saw Heyward’s boat pull up on the other end.

When I walked onto the boat something seemed off, the two boys were silent which almost never happened. Looking between them I was confused. Without a word Pope pulled out of the dock and we headed back to the cut.

“What’s up with you two?” I asked a few minutes into the boat ride. The pair glanced at each other, Pope opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but after a pointed glare from JJ. He shut his mouth and readjusted his hat, it was sitting at a weird angle.

“Nothin’.” JJ told me with a straight face.

“Seriously?” I asked, frustrated with the two for keeping something to themselves.

“Seriously.” JJ confirmed, so much for Pogues not lying to Pogues.

“So we’re keeping secrets now? Cool.” I said pressing my lips into a tight line. Before they spoke another word I walked onto the back deck. Hoping that the breeze would help me cool off.

From inside the boat I could hear Pope arguing with JJ about telling me something. I couldn’t hear all of it but I knew they were keeping something from me as their words became louder.

“I don’t want her involved!” I finally heard JJ shout, which seemed to stop Pope from saying anything more and the pair became silent again.

🔅🔆🔅

After we spent the rest of the day surfing we were all back at the Château. I sat watching the sunset, wondering what had happened to JJ and Pope before they picked me up. I worried that by the time I found out what had really happened it would be too late.

“You really think it's out there? Like, no bullshit?” Pope asked.

“My father thought it was.” John B told us.

“But do you?”

“After hearing his voice on that tape… I think I do.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Look, we're gonna find it, you know?” JJ spoke up from the hammock. I’d normally be sitting right beside him and even though we were only a few feet apart it felt like there were miles between us.

“Even JJ believes.” Kie joked.

“Oh, my God, JJ, do you really believe?” John B asked in disbelief.

“Totally. Wait. Are we talking about four mil?” JJ asked

“Four hundred mil.” Kie and Pope corrected.

“I'm gonna dream about shipwrecks.” JJ informed us all. “Good night, Bird!”

“Good night, bird shit!” John B teased.

🔅🔆🔅

The next day, the weather seemed perfect as we all boarded Heyward’s boat, ready to find some gold. I kept my distance from the others, I knew I should drop it but I couldn’t help but worry about what JJ and Pope refused to tell me.

“All right, JJ. Pin it here.” I heard John B call out.

“Roger that! X marks the spot.” JJ responded from inside. “All right, ladies and gentlemen. To going full Kook.”

As Pope took the drone deeper everyone's nerves rose. We were about to find out if it had been worth it.

As Kie let out more of the tether, I kept track of how far down the drown had gone. At 900 feet the wind was becoming too much and we still hadn’t found anything. But at almost 1000 feet Pope let out a sigh of relief.

“I'm at the bottom! I'm at the bottom! Okay, steady here, JJ!” Pope yelled out over the wind.

“You should be seeing something, man.” John B told him impatiently, we couldn’t stay out for much longer.

“I know, I know! Wait, wait.” Pope froze. “Oh, good God.”

“See anything?” I asked hopefully.

“It's the Royal Merchant.” Pope told us with certainty.

🔅🔆🔅

#outerbanks #outer banks #jj maybank #jj obx #obx #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader

8 notes · View notes

sweetlilpaulie · 4 years ago

Text

Never Leave Me.

Request for time travel reader, telling the boys about the future.

Reader X John (it was never specified, but I wanted to do John, cause, well... it’s John)

Caution: Language

Enjoy, my cuties.

P.S. Not to get confused, she’s been with the boys for a few months now, so she knows them pretty well.

~~~

Dear Diary,

Sometimes, we like to dream about what life would be like had we done something different, or said something that we held inside. Maybe, even daydream of the possibilities that we know will never happen. I admit to have fantasized on many occasions, to have been born in a different state, with a bigger house and adoring people on my sides, maybe even in a different time.

Funny, I guess I never thought that I’d end up here. Those very daydreams coming to life. To be honest, I still have no idea how I got here, and if the boys ever found out well... I don’t know what I’d do...

“(y/n)!”

Startled, I turned around, quickly shutting my notebook and placing it under a pillow.

“H-hey.”

Paul smirked.

“What cha been up to in this room for so long ay? Coulda had a whole orgy by now.”

Blushing furiously, I frowned at him.

“I was...writing, you silly goose. What cha need?”

Well, John’s been waitin for ya, he won’t say why, says it’s a surprise.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Well, alright then.”

Paul and I walked down the stairs into the studio apartment’s tiny parlour.

John was lounging lazily on the loveseat, his head drifting dangerously downward.

“Oh, Johnny!” chirped Paul loudly.

John’s head snapped up.

“Took ya long enough!”

He grinned, standing up.

My breath hitched.

Every time, even now, his face always made me stare in wonder. And each time, I have to remember.

He’s alive.

And he’s mine.

“Like what you see?” he smirked at my awestruck face.

Not wanting to stroke his ego further, I crossed my arms and cheekily replied “No, but you do.”

It was then, Paul cleared his throat.

“Save that for the bedroom, ay? I’m still here, for Christ’s sake.”

“What are ye still doin’ here? Sod off Macca.”

Raising his hands defensively, he left the premises.

Turning back to me, he smiled once again.

“Come ‘ed. ‘ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Grabbing my hand he pulled me out the backdoor and into the yard.

I gasped in surprise.

White rose bushes were planted on every side, a tall elegant fountain sitting in the middle.

“You said you wanted a garden...so ‘ere ya are.”

There were cobblestones joined together to create a pathway towards the fountain. By the fountain, was a small table and two chairs, a bowl of strawberries, and a tea set were lying on top of the table.

“All...for me?”

“Yes love, all for ya.” he nuzzled my cheek.

This all keeps getting better and better.

“Well, let’s not keep the grub waitin, shall we?”

He guided me towards the table. Sitting down, he poured some tea in the cup along with a bit of cream and a spoonful of sugar. Stirring it all together, he passed me the cup and saucer. Taking a sip, I closed my eyes in delight.

“Earl Grey, you remembered.”

“How could I forget?”

Opening my eyes, John had his on mine. My heart started beating faster once again.

“(y/n), the truth is...” he looked down, biting his lip slightly.

“...I-I think I’m in love with you.”

Before I could open my mouth, he quickly added “I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but, I dunno, I think you might be the one I’ve been looking for...oh dear God, that sounds so cliché, doesn’t it? I’m really not that kind of guy, I don’t want you to think I’m that sort of guy, look...”

“John.” I raised my eyebrows, and he went quiet.

“I should probably tell you something...”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and then worry “Look, I’m sorry if that was a little forward, but...please, don’t think I’m gonna push ya in any way, if you don’t love me back I’d understand...”

“JOHN!”

He shut up once again.

“Good God, Lennon! Calm down. The truth is I love you too.” his eyes widened and a grin spread on his face “Hold up mister, I’m not done yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What else is there you need to say?”

“Uhm...okay, y’know how I told you my parents were in Canada, and that they worked in a small town that nobody knows?”

“Yes?” his eyebrow raised further yet.

“That’s...not...entirely true.” I bit my lip. His face only urged me to continue. “Uhm, they actually, aren’t here.”

Too vague.

Before he could share his inner demons, I quickly added. “They’re not dead. They just uhm...well, they aren’t here...yet.”

“ m’afraid I don’t know what you mean love.”

“Look, I’m gonna sound crazy, It’s absolutely wild, and you may think I’ve lost it, trust me, It’s hard for me too. Do you understand?”

He nodded mutely, still giving me a puzzled look.

“I’m not from here.”

He rolled his eyes at this “I know that much ya yank.”

“No, well yes...but, not from this...time.”

I took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t born in 1944. I was actually born in 2001.”

It was then he started laughing.

“Good one, (y/n). Still don’t really see the punchline though.”

I slapped my forehead.

“I thought you might think this was a joke. But, I’m being serious.”

He light smile faded, and turned to a frown.

“Whaddya mean you’re from 2001? Hasn’t even ‘appned yet!”

“I know...I’m from the future.”

He stared at me blankly for a long time. Then crossing his arms and giving me a skeptical look he finally spoke.

“Prove it then.”

After many months of hiding the technology, I finally pulled out my phone. I tapped on the screen several times to reveal my home screen.

“Wha- the bloody ‘ell is that?”

“It’s a phone, love. Look.” I tapped on my Spotify app.

“You boys have been working on a new album with all originals correct?”

“Y-yes, you know this.”

“But you are keeping it a secret, not even I’ve heard the music.” I smirked. “Or at least, you don’t think I have.”

I tapped once more on the screen revealing A Hard Day’s Night album.

“We haven’t even...”

“Named it? Oh, I know. Check this out. Y’know the song the Macca brought to your house yesterday? And I love her?” I pointed to the screen, and viola it was there. I played the song. His eyes widened in shock.

“We haven’t even finished...”

“Yeah, next week George Martin is going to ask for an intro, and George Harrison is gonna come up with something that will make the song.” His mouth was gaping, he couldn’t believe his ears “Don’t believe me? You don’t have to take my word for it. You can ask him yourself, and you’ll know it’s true.”

At this point, John knew she couldn’t be lying.

“How...?”

“I honestly have no fucking idea. But, here I am, with you, with the Beatles! And it’s a dream come true!”

“Wait...” He quickly interrupted “You said you were born in 2001. That’s...decades. Are we really that famous?” I could hear the anticipation and excitement in his voice.

Biting my lip, I nodded.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a hit.”

He grinned. “I knew it.”

“Don’t get too cocky Lennon. You might just fall off your high horse.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“Uhm...”

You’re gonna get assassinated.

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Well, you marry this crazy lady.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What’s ‘er name?”

“You don’t wanna know, trust me.”

“Alright then. What else?”

“You grow a beard a few times.”

“Really? I’ve always wondered what’d that’d be like.” he looked up thoughtfully.

I giggled at his inquisitive look.

But my joyful moment soon subsided. I finally remembered the truth of the future.

A world without Lennon.

I should tell him. Of course! If I tell him, he’ll know not to step anywhere near that man! He needs to know!

“Erm...there is one more thing.”

He smiled at me “Yes, kitten?”

“You...” I couldn’t help but stare straight into his orbs once again.

He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s here with me.

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“(y/n)? You still here? I know I look good, but maybe you could not get distracted one tiny second?”

I blushed again, and cleared my throat. “Well, this isin’t really something you wanna hear but...”

“But?”

“Uhm, well, you’re dead.”

He looked down at the ground in slight disappointment. “Of course. We all die eventually.”

“Yes, but with you...” before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my eye. “...you could have lived so much longer...had it not been..”

I choked. Tears continued to stream.

“Love, s’alright. I’m still here. Hey, look at me.” He laced his fingers with mine.

“Y-you were assassinated! That bastard shot you four times! You did nothing wrong!!” I sobbed wildly, mascara streaking on my cheeks.

He was appalled, but continued to comfort me.

“S’alright love, now that I know, I’ll make sure to not be where I was that day, yeah? You’ve saved me! I’ll be alright! Doll, please don’t cry.” He wiped away my tears with his handkerchief.

I looked up at him with relief in my eyes. “You’re gonna be ok.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be ok.”

He leaned in and kissed me.

In that moment I had finally realized.

He was here.

He was alive.

And he loves me.

~~~

Lol, this ended up being more emotional than I thought it would be. I’ll admit to getting a little misty eyed as I wrote this up.

Again, thanks to my computer, which died on me...again... this story is finally out now. Hope you enjoy!

L.M.

#Beatles #John Lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #George Harrison #Ringo Starr #time traveler

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ddixons-angel · 5 years ago

Text

You Matter

Requested by @winchester9791

This one made me realize how hard angst is for me to actually write! This took me a little more than a week, I’m sorry for the wait and if it isn’t up to par! Please let me know what you think!

Prompt(s): 18. “I never should have listened to you” & 25. “You wanna know the biggest difference between you and me? I actually care what happens to you!”

Reader is upset at Daryl for deceiving her to get back to the Hilltop. Emotional, she confronts him when he makes it back.

You felt so stupid, you should have known better than to leave first. You and Daryl had gone out to scavenge more weapons to fight the Saviors but you heard over the walkies that Negan was making his way to an outpost close by. You tried to convince Daryl not to go and at first, you thought that you succeeded. Silly you. He told you to head back first and that he would be right behind you.

“Just to make sure we ain’ bein’ followed” he had told you.

You scoff at the memory, you should have known he would leave to fight the Saviors alone, to take on Negan alone. You were now sitting at the steps of the Barrington House, waiting for Daryl to come back but every passing second made your anxiety grow even worse. What if something had happened to him? What if Negan and his men found him first and took him back to that dreadful place they called Sanctuary? A million horrible thoughts crossed your mind when the gates of the Hilltop finally opened and you sprinted towards them. A wave of relief washes over you as you see Daryl walk through the gates, seemingly inharmed. However, your relief is soon overtaken by anger as his eyes connect with yours.

“Right behind me, huh? Bullshit...” you seeth, you ignore the look of guilt in his eyes as you speak, “I never should have listened to you.”

Without waiting for a response from him, you turn on your heel and walk away from him. You didn’t know where you were heading, you just didn’t want to see or talk to him. He was alive and safe back in the Hilltop, that was enough for you right now. You retreat to Jesus’s trailer where you and Maggie had been staying for the time being. You needed to calm yourself down, you knew that Daryl would want to find you and talk about what happened outside, and you knew that you would have to be calm in order for that conversation to go anywhere.

There was something unspoken about your relationship with Daryl. You both cared deeply for the other, always having the other’s back, always being able to communicate without words. There was always a need to protect the other and to keep the other safe. You were sure that you were in love with the man, even though you’d never act on it, being with him was enough.

“Y/N?”

You look up at the door to the trailer when you hear his voice call out to you and shortly, the door opens and there he is. He hesitantly bites his lip as he walks into the trailer, you sigh and look away. You hear him move and the door of the trailer closing behind him.

The silence within the trailer is tense and slightly awkward. You’re sitting at the table situated in the middle of the trailer while Daryl’s standing by the door. Neither of you speaking, neither of you really knowing what to say. You were still upset at him for deceiving you, but what you were more upset about was the fact that you knew he would do it again if he had another chance to kill Negan.

“Daryl...”

“Y/N.”

You both call each other at the same time, a small chuckle escapes your lips. You finally look up at him to see him looking back at you. He didn’t look hurt or seem like he even got into a fight, which relieved but confused you.

“Ya still mad at me?” he asks, causing you to scoff.

“Of course I’m still mad at you. You left me, Daryl!” you huff, getting up from your seat.

“Technically... ya left me to come back to Hilltop.” he mutters his correction.

“That is beyond the point! We’re supposed to be a team, it’s always been that way, I don’t know what made you think it was ever okay for you to go on your own like that.” you say.

“It’s cause ya an’ I ‘re different.” he starts, looking at you with a deep stare, “the people here an’ back home at Alexandria, they care ‘bout ya. Ya matter to them, they want ya around! It’d make a hell of a difference if somethin’ happened to ya, but not me.”

“What?” you stare at Daryl in disbelief.

After all this time, he still thought he was worthless, that he didn’t matter to the group. To Rick, to Maggie. To you. After everything you’ve all been through together, he still thought of himself as someone who they could easily throw away without a second thought.

“Ya gonna tell me that ain’ true?” he steps to you, challenging you to tell him he’s wrong.

“You’re right that we’re different, that people see us differently, but that doesn’t mean one of us is less important than the other, Daryl. We do different things to make us both valuable people to have around.” you argue, you couldn’t believe you still needed to have this conversation with him after everything.

“Yeah, an’ the main difference between us is that I do the shit that people don’ wanna do! The hard shit that has to be done and they’re fine with me doin’ it ‘cause I don’t fuckin’ matter!” he spits out.

“You wanna know the biggest difference between you and me? I actually care what happens to you!” you shout.

A thick silence lingers through the trailer as Daryl looks away, guilty. He knows that you care about him and yet here he was again, pushing you away, trying to convince you that he doesn’t and shouldn’t matter.

“What even made you come back?” you ask.

Genuinely, you were curious. You knew how much Daryl hated the Saviors, hated Negan. You knew he wanted them all dead for what they did to all of you. So, what could have stopped him from taking his chance to kill them?

“I saw him... gettin’ outta his car with his men. Coulda ran in there an’ shoot ‘em dead, and I was goin’ to... but then I thought o’ ya.” he admits.

“Me?” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

Daryl nods, “I thought o’ ya and how ya were practically beggin’ me not to go... to jus’ come back with ya. An’ I knew that if I didn’ make it back, ya’d be the first one to come lookin’.”

“You’re right about that, if you came back an hour later than you did, I would already be out there,” you inform him, that was your plan originally, “so what does that say about you? I’m willing to risk everything to go out there to look for you, and you’re still trying to tell me that you don’t matter?”

“I shouldn’...” he mumbles.

You frown at his words then step to him to close the distance between the two of you. Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek, making Daryl look at you.

“You listen to me, Daryl Dixon. I don’t know about anyone else, but you matter more to me than anyone else. Whatever the Saviors did to you, whatever they said, none of that is true. You’re probably the most important member of this family.” you say softly, your voice full of emotion.

Daryl bites his lips together, his eyes glazed over with tears as one rolls down his face. You wipe it away with your thumb as you give him a soft smile.

“‘M sorry...” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You sigh softly and pull him into you for an embrace. You wrap your arms around him as he sobs quietly in your arms. You know he’s been through hell and back, so you could never blame him for lashing out.

“It’s okay,” you whisper soothingly into his ear, “you’re back with us now, and we’ll get through all of this together, as a family, like we always have.”

You feel Daryl nod as he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You can’t help but smile at his actions, maybe there was hope for your relationship to bloom into something more, but right now wasn’t the time to discuss any of that. You were in the middle of a war with the Saviors, and that came first.

You were happy to have this moment with Daryl though. It was very rare that he would show this side to anyone, but you knew that he needed it more than you did. He needed comfort after being taken away from his family, beaten and tortured. He needed someone to physically tend to him and show him that he was safe and that he would never be judged for what he went through. And you were more than happy to be the one to help him with that, to show him that you meant every word you said. That he matters more to you than anyone else.

---

I would really appreciate any comments left for me! I’ll be replying to any comments in a new post because this is a sideblog!

#Daryl Dixon Fanfiction #Daryl Dixon Imagine #Daryl Dixon X Reader #The Walking Dead Fanfiction #The Walking Dead Imagine #TWD Fanfiction #TWD Imagine #Daryl Dixon & Reader #Daryl Dixon/Reader

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japiform · 4 years ago

Text

Grand Highblood: Be someone else

Not this shit again. You aren’t going to play ball with this idea of you needing to switch around all the mother fuckin time, and you sure as hell aren’t going to give up the reins at so crucial a moment.

A crucial series of moments, really.

This is all so delicate, so precarious. So exciting, somethin finally changing. But only if you play your cards right.

You’ve got your eyes locked on target, on the empress’s little lost, dying favorite. You’ll find a way to spin the tale to your advantage later, make sure to soothe her shattered ego when she finally gets all up in arms and tridents and shit. That’s not really your concern right now.

Right now, your concern is catching him. And therein lies the problem. You with your helm that’s more suited for finesse than raw power, one that might last instead of burnin themselves out so quick and firey. You’re no match for him at full fuckin speed. And if he gets the chance, he’ll bolt like a startled hopbeast. So, just like your own little helm, you gotta handle this situation with finesse.

You don’t know how close his deadline is, but you know he has one. You know it’s coming real fucking close, because otherwise he wouldn’t be telling you about it. Not while you have time to change things. As long as he’s still got his chore to accomplish, though, he can’t run fast. Not without risking burning himself out before he’s done.

You’ve been keeping track of your eta pretty damn consistently, keeping an eye on it between paperwork and chores and lessons and sermons and what ever the mother fuck else. And you’re not getting any closer, not since just a little before he called your pretty ass out. But you’re not getting any further away neither. He’s got a good idea of your ship’s speed, your ship’s own capabilities, and why wouldn’t he? Like he said, herself keeps tabs on you. Plus, all the motherfuckers in their little helm chats probably know just how everyone else performs. He’s keeping himself in lockstep with you, only going as fast as he needs to, to make sure you keep your distance.

So... as long as you can keep him feeling safe, spring your trap before he gets himself uploaded, he’ll have no reason to outrun you until there’s no damn place to go. And all you have to do is be a little... unpredictable.

You head back down to the bowels of your ship, and your little yellow fucker tightens their shoulders like they mean it, and looks up at you with tired defiance but that uneasy edge that’s come into em since you came down hours ago. “Aight, little motherfucker. I want us to change course a bit. About six degrees out, headed away from the star nearest the Empress’s ship. Keep us circlin round him at distance, even if you gotta give your poor little self a headache, but you keep yourself ready to roll after, hear me?” Yes sir, they say, all good and polite, and you smile.

“Go on and send a message to Brother Riktus and Sister Alruza to hold back, but get some good teams together for a little jaunt through the deep black, hm? Gonna wanna talk to em in,” you look down at a watch you don’t have, “I’d say about an hour and fifteen. I want smart ones, too, not the fuckers who run on blood and stardust and not much fuckin else.” The little helm says yes sir again, and you ruffle their hair a bit. They flinch when your claws catch on their horns, but that’s alright.

“Now, I want you to listen to me real close for this next part,” and your voodoo tickles at their fear sponge so their eyes go all wide and their heart pounds in their throat. “There’s somethin i want on that ship.” Your tone is silk smooth and your smile is sweet as cotton candy. They swallow, and you can hear the crackle it makes when they do. “If I don’t get it, and I get the slightest inclination, the barest whisper that it’s your fault, I will make motherfuckin SURE,” they flinch, and your smile fades, “that you endure. We understood?” Your voodoo slides over their pan, not enough to control. Just enough to get your point across, just enough to ghost their eyes over your royal color and let em get a vibe for the horrors you might care to inflict long fuckin term.

It takes them a moment before they nod, all frantic where you can hear their thoughts rattling round in their head. You wait expectantly until they get the globes to speak, a quick repeated Yes sir yes sir that makes your smile return. “Good. Keep me updated. We’re gonna make good shit happen together, ain’t we?” They’re speaking as soon as you let out that question, quick little shuddery yes sirs that put a little extra sparkle in their eye that you find you like.

Sometimes, not always but fuckin sometimes, it is good to be king.

#ooc eyes only

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evilmortys · 5 years ago

Text

“Well, it’s great to have you back here in our chambers again. And by that, we of course mean that it’s literally the worst to have you back here in our chambers, C-136.” There’s a definite familiarity in the way Riq IV utters his indicative numerals that rings almost personal, but understandably, there’s little fondness behind his severe greeting. Jesus Christ, he thinks to himself sourly, this fucking Morty again. “You know how this goes, so let’s get right to it. State your name and dimension number for the record, turd.”

“Yeah, well, here’s somethin’ for the record: I’m not- I’m actually not too jazzed about it myself, y’know? Every time I get hauled here, I gotta- I gotta look you guys in the faces for like, an hour. And they’re really ugly ones.” Morty rebukes, arms folded over his chest defensively. His insides quiver like jelly. Deep down, he’s actually really not so good with this confrontation stuff, believe it or not. What Morty is? Still, he can’t half pretend to be unflinching when a situation calls for it. Nerves sufficiently steeled and outward appearance nothing short of done with this shit, he obliges the demand. “Mortimer Smith, Earth Dimension C-136. No additional numerals applicable.”

“Watch it.” Another council member snaps suddenly, already infuriated by the blatant lack of respect, and Morty’s gaze drifts to the secondary speaker. Hazel eyes rest upon the decrepit figure boredly, and he inwardly debates whether it’d be worth it to point out he doesn’t even know the name of any of these other assholes- that’s- that’s about how relevant their input is to him right now. Probably shouldn’t, he concedes grudgingly. Don’t bite the bullet when it comes to spitting snark, y’know? Employing restraint now leaves wiggle room to get away with saying more once this discussion inevitably goes to shit. He looks back to their spokesperson wordlessly, gaze expectant.

“Yes, Rick Prime, you’re absolutely right. He says what we’re all thinking! Now... let me see what you’ve gotten up to this time, C-136. While I’m reading the report over, why don’t you go ahead and tell me: who the fuck do you think you are? And why do you think you can get away with this shit? We’d all love to hear it.” Riq IV gathers up the loose-leaf before him and taps the papers against the imperial desk he sits behind, neatening the stack before beginning to look them over.

“I don’t think I’m anyone- anyone... look, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Morty protests defensively. “There’s nothing I’d even be getting away with! That’s- whatever’s written there, it won’t- it’ll all be a bunch of bullshit!”

“Really? Because let me tell you, this is all lining up very well with what we’ve come to expect of your character.” Riq IV heaves a world weary sigh, bracing himself for what’s to come (this particular turd, and the circumstance of his Rick being such a generous contributor, always makes everything so difficult), and passes the report along for the other council members to peruse. Can’t effectively threaten this one, really. But like hell he won’t try. “Here’s our working theory, turd. You believe that you’re special, and brave, or some shit, and- and you think that because your Rick happens to donate to us often that we have to tolerate this kind of shit from you and take it on the chin. That your actions here don’t have consequence. Am I in the ballpark, C-136?”

“Not even close!”

“Then do you want to tell us what the fuck happened?! Do you want to, oh, I don’t know--- clue the council in on why you saw fit to push a Rick to the ground, stamp repeatedly on his ballsack, and punch him in the face until... he- cried---? Jesus Christ, in- in hindsight- this geezer’s not reflecting on us well. How does this even happen? He got fucked up by a Morty? I mean, at that point, you pretty much deserve whatever happens, right? What the fuck was I even reading there, y’know?”

Riq IV isn’t quite addressing C-136 come the end of that impassioned order for an explanation, and is instead glancing at the other members incredulously, brow knitted indignantly. The other four Ricks murmur heatedly in irritable agreement, though they’re keen to point out Mortys should never possess the balls to lash out at a Rick violently regardless. With a nod of his head, the spokesman looks down upon the yellow-shirted bastard beneath him, and snaps, “Whenever you’re ready, C-136. Take your time! I know you think this Citadel bows to your goddamn whims either way. Go ahead and phone a fucking friend- why not? You’re- you’re a little monster.”

“Oh, I’m ready, you stupid haircut having- you’re a- dumb ass motherfucker,” Morty spits vehemently, gritting his teeth, before catching himself. His gaze briefly averts, as if in wordless apology for his blunt outburst. He draws himself up slightly, gesticulating with his hands as he attempts to get across his reasoning. “Look, I know it sounds bad. It was bad! It was! I know. But that Rick, he- he was, he was pushing this Morty around, being such a dick, making fun of him, and- there was... he didn’t even have a reason! That Morty was mute, y’know? He’d- he’d had his tongue cut out, or- or maybe ripped out by some sorta alien... I don’t know. He was making this awful gurgling noise, he was frightened, and- what, was I just supposed t- to walk on by? Pretend I couldn’t see that happening?!”

“That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.” Riq IV says pointedly, as if affronted he has to clarify the obvious at all. “We can only assume that Morty was behaving in a way to make him deserve that, just as you should have assumed, turd. Besides, I’ll have you know that tongueless Mortys are in, uh- pretty high demand, for the more morally ambiguous Ricks. In fact, I’m pretty sure we offer services for a humane snip of the tongue. We do that, guys, right? ... Maybe it’s more of a black market thing? Yes. It’s- it’s just an adjustment that can be made to you little bastards, for a price, much like implanting chips into your spines and weaponizing you for efficiency. And let me tell you something: it’s one that I plan to recommend to your grandfather if you continue to push your luck. Our tolerance only goes so far, no matter how much of an asset Rick C-136 is to the development of our Citadel. We won’t exactly crumble without him.”

“Fuck you! Wh- what the fuck is WRONG with you?! Y- you wanna know something?! You wanna know what I think?! Don’t answer: I- I know you don’t, but fuck you, and listen up anyway! Every single one of you BASTARDS are DEFINITELY gonna die with each other’s dicks in your throat from how much you suck each other off! How can you sit up there, and say shit like that, and- and not hear how fucking awful you all sound?!”

His gesturing hands have long since returned to his sides, and his arms are tensed where they rest- C-136 is acutely aware of the fact that he’s trembling, shaking with anger that has never felt more well founded. Despite himself, he curls his fingers and balls them into fists, as if- as if he could swing for those smug motherfuckers up there from all the way down here. Morty has to jut his chin just to regard them with all this fury, and there’s nothing to goddamn do with it- his breathing quivers from his lungs tensely, and there’s a challenging look crystal clear in his blazing eyes. Can’t do anything about it, the reminder bangs in his brain. The Guard Ricks posted all around don’t even motion to grip their guns tighter, because they fucking know it, and the council fucking knows it, and they know he’s painfully aware of it, too.

Their broad, shit-eating grins say it all--- at least, they do, until Ricktiminus Sancheziminius sees fit to glance upward briefly by chance, and winds up visibly starting, and fixing his gaze on something else entirely. Somebody else. Somebody other than the spectacle of that notoriously difficult Morty having an outburst. Ricktiminus Sancheziminius nudges Riq IV sharply in the side, and upon gaining the other’s attention and irritable acknowledgement, indicates the new arrival to the spokesman. He soon sobers, flashing the figure at the entrance to their chambers a bemused look- and the others are quick to follow his lead. Morty’s brows knit, and he glances over his shoulder- heart sinking---no, outright dropping---deeply into his stomach the very instant he’s processed it.

Fuck.

“Ah, your keeper’s here, C-136. Rick Sanchez, earth dimension C-136! We presume our message reached you in a timely manner... and yet, enough time has passed for your grandson to spit vulgarities at us for quite a while. I certainly hope we didn’t pull you away from anything important...” Riq IV smiles strangely, almost as if simpering. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there is something deeply false to the curve of his mouth. Belching, he waves a careless hand, as if to dismiss his own backhanded, apologetic sentiment before the other can even respond to it. “... Though it begs the question of what could be more important than the Citadel. We both have this society’s best interests at heart, after all.”

“Yeah, y-eeeuurgh-eah, what-the-fuck-ever.” Rick replies, sweeping into the chambers and standing at Morty’s side, flashing him a deeply vexed look. He probably heard that whole last part, and out of context, it doesn’t really reflect well on the flicker of patience he's been trying to maintain all the while. “I was balls deep in the concept of time when you motherfuckers called me, so ex-cuse me if I’m not particularly chirpy about being called over this time around. He- he better have at least killed someone, is what I’m saying. I was getting action. Literally fucking with time. I- I don’t wanna fucking be here for anything less.”

Morty’s mouth falls open as he hastens to try and explain himself, ready to trip over his own spluttering words until Rick comes to understand that he was just trying to help- before he realizes, dully, that it won’t even matter. Huffing, the teenager simply looks askance, knowing full well Rick won’t take his side on this. Almost can’t take his side on this. Though it’s not like the other ever strives to have his back anyway.

This train of thought is a bitter one, and it rattles through his head so loudly, all the biting reminders that he’s in a room full of people who don’t give a shit what he has to say in the slightest, that he briefly tunes out from the exchange between the council and his disapproving grandfather. Their words are little more than buzzing in his ears, but he doesn’t miss much. They’re just filling his companion in on what shit trick he’s pulled this visit. A sharp flick against the side of his head soon bumps him back to reality, and a deep scowl curls the sixteen year old’s lip as he rubs it, fighting the innate urge to bitch. Rick scoffs at him, before turning his attention back to the six alternates perched up there.

“See that? Not even listening. Look, this time last year, Morty was all over the Citadel, just like I am. Nobody’s saying anything about taking issue with this place. Nothing but support in the C-136 household. He’s just going through a little phase, in case you can’t tell. You ever had a sixteen year old Morty? Nightmare. Rebellion, he’s all- all stick it to the Ricks, y’know? He’s just being a c-eeeuurgh-ontrary little shit. Christ, the whole reason he’s here is to pick some crap up that I ordered- did you even fucking get around to grabbing that, Morty? Before you started swinging for Ricks?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Morty says shortly. “Laruxion ore.”

He finds himself physically biting down on his tongue, as if to chastise it prematurely as it twitches to run away with him about what a nightmare even just grabbing Rick’s shit was, too. The shopkeeper glared down at him, and asked a few dozen hostile questions about what a Morty was doing picking up something so volatile, so potentially dangerous, for his Rick. If it were up to me, he’d declared, unwillingly bagging the package up all the same, you wouldn’t be running around with something like this. Taking it to your Rick or otherwise. Guy can’t pick up his own shit?

“Aw, jeez. Well,” Morty had shot back, unable to help himself, “don’t you all think we’re too stupid to do anything smart anyway? Either you think Mortys are capable of falling the entire Citadel with this ore, and you won’t fork that shit over to me because of that, or you think we’re dumbass, i- incapable, um, y’know- sidekicks. In which case, there’s- there’s no harm in handing it over to me. Right? Just saying, y’know. Y- you guys should pick a lane. Aw, jeez.”

Suffice to say, Shopkeeper Rick was not impressed with his take on the matter, and all but threw the bag across the counter into Morty’s fumbling hands, before angrily shooing him off.

“Might as well have done it myself. Can’t even run an errand without getting stirred up in shit. Look, council,” Rick grouses, pinching the bridge of his nose in a show of utter annoyance, “Let’s just call this square. We all fucking paid for his shit trick today, right? I got blue balls, you had to, uh... rightfully bitch at him, waste your... precious time on a dumbass Morty. And he’s gonna get a fucking earful. I’d- I’d say it won’t happen again, but, Christ- is- was he even entirely in the wrong? If a Rick can get taken out by a Morty, he’s not exactly a valuable member of this society. The society I funnel a lot of fucking cash into on a monthly basis, might I add. G- g-eeeUURGH-etting pretty sick of the same old bitchfest about every toe my moron puts over the line when he’s here. Do you guys do this for every Morty that acts out? I’m just sp-eeEUURGH-itballing over here, but- I kind of thought I was donating to people that had slightly better shit to do than pull my Morty up for being a little- a little angsty, or whatever the fuck, right now.”

“... We do this for Mortys that repeatedly cause issues within our citadel. Which yours does to the point of notoriety, C-136. If you’d only rein in your Morty, this wouldn’t be an issue to begin with---”

“Oh, my God- shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck UP---”

“Morty, YOU shut the fuck up. Sorry for him, as usual. Are we done here?”

“... Of course. We, uh, we’d like to reiterate our gratitude for your contributions to maintaining the-”

“Yeah, yeah, leave me another f-eeEUrrrgh-ucking voicemail about it. Come on, Morty. Y- you’re gonna- I’m gonna fucking kill you when we’re outta here,” Rick chastises, and reaches out to grip his forearm and pull him along as he paces away from his six alternates, muttering darkly under his breath all the while. Visibly nettled by the threat, the sixteen year old bitches top note and makes several efforts to wrench his arm free- and easily manages it once they’re back in the sea of alternates that is the main hub of this hellhole as Rick reluctantly eases his hold.

“Don’t grab me! And- and y’know what, don’t bust my balls about this, either. Would it kill you to be on my side? Like, ever? Wh- why would I beat on anyone for no goddamn reason, Rick?!” Morty explodes, and his grandfather rakes a hand through his tufts of blue hair and glares.

“You know exactly why, Morty. Besides. I’m not exactly in the business of backing you up- not sure if you’ve noticed. Because you’re never actually in the right. You’re just taking everything to heart and poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, as usual. Got that?”

There’s a certain bitterness behind his words. How the hell do you think it’s going to reflect on me if they know I’ve never been able to put a lid on your shit, Morty? Rick sets off walking, and for a moment, Morty hangs back- hesitating to follow, eyes narrowed fiercely at the other’s retreating back... before he groans, and hastens to scramble through the thick crowds and catch up, demanding an explanation all the while.

“Why do you even put up with their crap, Rick? I- I don’t get it. You’re throwing money at a bunch of dicks, t- to support something you don’t even- to support the fucking Shitadel?” Morty gesticulates wildly, hazel eyes narrowed and gaze intent as he regards his older relative, forearms raised and fingers splayed out in a demonstration of utter bewilderment. “I’m just trying to understand why- why the fuck you would do that! Y’know? Y- you don’t even like this fucking hellhole! The people who live here don’t even like it! I just, I- I don’t---”

Rick’s shoulders slump under this bout of badgering, and, if only to quieten the idiot down, he caves. Lowers his voice and mutters quietly, so as not to be listened in on by anyone around them.

“You don’t g-eeURRGH-et it? Yeah, I heard you the first time. Look, M-Bomb, if I know those assholes---and I am those assholes---being, y’know, blatant about hating their fucking guts isn’t the way to go. If I say what I think, tell ‘em to suck my balls and shove their society up their ass, how- how exactly do you see that playing out for me?”

Rick pauses, as if awaiting an answer. Bewildered, the teenager beside him blinks a tad owlishly, and at long last, opens his mouth in preparation to fumble for some sort of answer. The very moment he begins to speak out uncertainly, his grandfather purposefully presses on with his point, much to the boy’s visible aggravation.

“I’ll tell you how it’s gonna play out for me. I- I know it’s a little beyond your, uh, limited understanding, Morty. They’re gonna scout for a new paypig, come in the night, haul us outta home, take my portal gun, and make me a fucking janitor, Morty. Meanwhile your dumb ass is gonna- you’ll end up in that shitty Morty School, taking classes on how to bark great idea, grandpa, like- like some mindless little moron who can’t think for himself. They’d parade you around as an example of how well they break you little bastards down into yes-man sidekicks, since you’re such a stubborn piece of shit. And that’d be if y-eeEUrgh-ou’re lucky, by the way.”

“... Ha. Yeah, well, don’t- don’t talk like you wouldn’t like that. The last part, I mean.” He snorts, and a brief flicker of amusement brightens his companion’s resigned expression. Rolling his eyes, Rick rolls his shoulders into a shrug as they walk, moving through the sea of yellow-shirted teenagers and lab-coated fossils.

“Only if you don’t talk like you wouldn’t get a fucking kick out of seeing me scrub a toilet,” he snipes, and they exchange a glance.

There’s a brief, strange moment wherein something shifts between them- all the unspoken anger, the seething temper, the typical wariness that clings to the air that hangs between them seems to all but ebb away.

Morty cracks first. The corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly, a fit of snickers rises in his throat... and the second Rick clocks that he’s going to burst out laughing, he cracks up, too. They laugh, and they laugh, and just when it seems that they’re going to calm back down, they catch each other’s eye and lose it all over again. The other Ricks and Mortys waiting in line for a return portal to their dimension cast them strange looks as they all but giggle feebly beside each other, adamantly refusing to meet each other’s gaze in a fervent effort to recover, now; letting things lapse back into their norm.

All good things eventually draw to a close, and sure enough, this temporary, shared moment of reciprocal sentiment is one of them. The teenager can’t help but push it, however. Let it last just a minute longer. I won’t hate you again, just for a fraction more time. Don’t hate me again, just for a bit longer. While Rick moves to procure his silvery flask from his pocket, amused grin easing in the corners as his expression becomes idly impatient once more, Morty inhales, picking at a loose thread on his sweater if only to busy himself with something, too.

“Hey, Rick?” His tentative broach at conversation is met with a grunt while the old man slugs back his potent alcohol supply. Casting his grandfather a tentative smile, he fidgets with his fingers. “... Thanks. And- sorry. I- I know you hate, y’know, this whole- paying off this shithole, so we don’t wind up here, and stuff. And seeing those motherfuckers, and their stupid haircuts, more than you have to.”

... The sentiment doesn’t quite have the effect he wanted. Rick doesn’t smile back, once he’s finished downing the last drops from his flask. His brow narrows as he shoves it back into the pocket of his lab coat, and he shakes his head dismissively, refusing to take the attempt to uphold their good mood at face value. Disdain creeps right back into his tone- that distaste and disapproval over Morty’s every choice today rearing it’s ugly head with a vengeance, it seems.

“Yeah. I do. So I guess you owe me b-eeUURGH-ig time, Morty.”

He returns simply, and Morty’s heart sinks upon registering the snippy edge to Rick’s tone... before he soon finds himself frowning deeply, annoyed with himself for even trying; consumed with that aching anger once again. There’s a certain, undeniable comfort to be found in how familiar the feeling is. Losing the moment of enjoying one another’s companionship, of things being how they were some two years ago again, stings. Undoubtedly. But it’s better not to dwell on them.

Part of him always wonders if it’s his fault they are the way they are. Keeping each other at arm’s length. Essentially communicating through picking fights over nothing, and bickering over absolute bullshit, with terribly occasional, painfully rare warm moments interspersed amidst all of their resentment. If he were only more wide-eyed and naive, Rick wouldn’t be like this with him. Right? Rick thinks that Morty doesn’t know precisely what his fucking problem is, but it doesn’t exactly take a genius to decipher why he’s so harsh with him most days. Read between the lines of his grandfather’s unspoken resentment.

No. It takes a smart, capable Morty, unafraid to call him or anyone, really, on bullshit, and injustice. And he never wanted that. What sort of Rick fucking does? The entire point of a Morty is to stand beside you, go along with whatever you say despite their own rightful apprehensions, to freak out and struggle and be impressed, awed, and horrified by the shit you pull. They’re sidekicks, but they’re never supposed to be all that competent. That’s the role of the Rick, after all. C-136 was fearful and clueless when they adventured in his youth, sure. There was a time. But he outgrew it far too fast, picked up on things far too quickly, keen for approval he didn’t want to give purely because of how actually deserved it was. Jesus, even as a kid, he was perceptive. Intrusively so. Full of cutting observations--- with alarmingly poignant outbursts over how Rick conducted himself, dripping with disdain for his behaviour, being plentiful from the tender age of eight.

Rick speaks.

“... Quit pulling this shit.”

Morty snaps.

“Quit being shit, Rick.”

They fix one another with a long, lingering look. It feels like a game of chicken- daring the figure across from them to be the one to break the prolonged staredown they’re locked into... and in turn, out himself as the coward ultimately too afraid to face up to the other. It ends in a perfect draw; grandfather and grandson tear their gazes away at the same moment, scoffing over how stupid it was at all, deliberately shuffling to sit a few more inches apart from one another.

Distance from it, the duo both decide sullenly. Never as different from one another as they like to insist, unbeknown to the two of them. All you can do. He can’t be told.

Rick and Morty, Earth Dimension C-136, await their assigned portal back home in silence; the balance restored in their uncaring world, and dynamic decidedly chilly once more.

#rick and morty #morty smith #rick sanchez #alex writes!#long post cw #HMMM. I DON'T. LIKE THIS. BUT I LIKE PARTS OF IT SO I'LL POST IT #please stamp on my head this literally SUCKS AND I ACTUALLY TRIED FJHDSJFHGDSHJG FUCKKK #I REFUSE TO NOT POST IT BECAUSE IT TOOK EMBARRASSINGLY LONG BUT. I WISH IT WAS BETTER.#i'll sleep and look at it again tomorrow and if it makes me cringe i'll slam that delete #c136!

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