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bloodxbat · 4 years ago

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Hi! Could I request a fic where Fred punishes the reader by spanking her with his belt. And it's combined with some daddy kink and Fred degrading her.

Hi lovely, here it is.

Warnings: Smut, Swearing! Spanking, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Choking, A little Praise, Angry Dom Fred, Bratty Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Prompt(s) used: none

Summary: It’s the middle of a hot summer so Y/N decides to wear a provocative outfit which shows a lot of skin, too much for Fred’s liking. Y/N decides to tease him all day, ending up with her being punished

Masterlist

Bad Girl

Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader

It was the hottest summer on record in England, and Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was packed with sweaty teenagers, stocking up on prank products to keep themselves entertained. Working in the shop was exhausting, more so because of the heat, Y/N didn’t mind her job, she got to work alongside her boyfriend and his twin. The normal uniform for the shop was smart suits, but considering the temperature was 27C, Fred and George had allowed their staff (and themselves) to wear slightly cooler, but still professional outfits.

Y/N’s outfit of choice was a short skirt, knee high socks, and a short sleeved white shirt which had the top 2 buttons undone. Her name tag was pinned directly on her chest, directly the eyes of any male customers. Fred had to bite his tongue when he seen her walk down the stairs, he was tempted to make her waltz right back up there and change, but he knew that working in extreme temperatures and wearing work clothes would have killed anyone. Fred himself was wearing, dress trousers, a short sleeve shirt which had the top button undone, and had a purple tie loosely hanging around his collar.

Y/N was stocking up shelves when a male customer, just a bit older than she was walked up to her.

“Excuse me, darling”

Y/N turned her head and smiled at the man.

“Could you help me out?” he asked

“Of course, what is it you need?”

“I was just wondering, what a beautiful lady like you was doing working here” he smirked, trying his best to flirt with her.

Fred had heard every word the man spoke to her, his eyes now burning into the back of his head, his fist clenched turning his knuckles white.

“Well, a girls gotta do what she needs to make money” Y/N replied giggling slightly

“You want my number gorgeous? I can show you a good time”]

That was enough for Fred to march right over there, not even bothering to pretend to smile, he takes a stance next to Y/N placing his hand on her back.

“Is everything ok here?” Fred almost growled

“Yeah, I was just speaking to this beautiful lady here, so would you mind” the man tried to get rid of Fred, but he wasn’t having it.

“No I do mind actually”

“Oh yeah? and who are you tough guy”

“I’m Fred Weasley, Y/N here’s boyfriend and one of the shop owners” he sneered, if looks could kill, that man would definitely be a goner.

The man’s face dropped in fear, his mouth forming in an ‘O’ shape.

“R-right, s-sorry” he stuttered, before hurrying out of the shop.

Fred turned to Y/N who was smiling as though she was happy with herself. Fred however, was not amused one single bit.

“What the hell was that?”

“I was helping a customer” she said as though she had no idea what he was talking about

“No, he was flirting with you, and you were giggling, don’t lie to me”

“To be honest he was being kinda creepy, so thank you for stepping in...Daddy” she smiled at the last part of her sentence, knowing just what that name done to Fred. She walked away into the storage room, purposefully swaying her hips to draw more attention to her ass.

Fred had to push down any anger and arousal he felt just then, and get back to work. If Y/N wanted to act like a brat, she was going to be treated like one later that night.

The rest of the day felt a lot longer for Fred than what it actually was. He couldn't help but think of all the things he was going to do to Y/N once they closed the shop. She had been teasing him all day, bending over to show off her ass and panties whenever he was around, she whispered in his ear, and called him Daddy whenever they were alone.

Fred finally locked the door and pulled down the last blind in the shop and made his way up stairs. He walked into his and Y/N’s shared bedroom, where Y/N was sitting reading a book, he slammed the door shut causing Y/N to jump. Fred pulled out his wand and cast a locking and silencing charm on the room.

“What the fuck do you think you were doing today princess? Teasing me like that” Fred practically growled

“Don’t know what you mean Fred” Y/N replied clearly giving him the cold shoulder and returning her attention to her book.

Fred walked over snatching the book out of her hand, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him.

“Don’t play dumb with me slut. You knew fine well what you were doing, distracted me from work and everything”

Y/N didn’t say anything in response only angering Fred even more.

“Oh so now you’re not going to say anything huh? Well you’ll be screaming in a minute, strip now”

Y/N didn’t hesitate to take off all of her clothes, she could see how dark his eyes were, filled with both anger and lust and the way his voice changed when he was angry only turned her on even more.

Fred unbuckled his belt, folding it in half, gripping it in his hand.

“I want you bent over the bed, ass up princess. Gonna punish you for acting like a slut”

Y/N made her way over to the side of the bed, leaning down on her forearms, pushing her ass in the air as high as she could giving Fred the perfect view.

“Gonna spank you 20 times ok?”

“Fred please”

“What the fuck did you just call me?” he growled

“Sorry Daddy, yes punish me, was such a bad girl” Y/N whined

“That you were princess, a bad girl indeed, now you’re gonna count after every spank”

“Ok Daddy”

Fred raised the belt and brought it down over Y/N’s ass hard with a rough slapping noise.

“One” Y/N cried

Fred repeated the action, Y/N’s ass already turning red from the first hit.

SLAP

“T-two”

Fred continued to do this 20 times, until he was rock hard and satisfied that Y/N had learned her lesson and taken the punishment.

“Took you’re punishment so well princess, but now I'm gonna fuck you like the whore you are, and you’re gonna take it”

Y/N stood up tentatively and faced Fred, who had now taken off his clothes leaving him too, fully naked in front of her. Y/N could tell she wouldn’t be getting to suck his dick or have him lick her clit tonight, his eyes were so filled with lust she knew that all he was going to do was pin her to the mattress and fuck her til she can’t walk.

Fred grabbed her waist and slammed his mouth to hers, forcing his tongue in her mouth earning a moan from her. He pulled away placing open mouthed kisses down her jaw, and biting and sucking marks into the skin on her neck.

“mmm Daddy please” she whined

“Such a needy little brat” Fred pushed her onto the bed and climbed on top of her.

Fred took his dick into his hand and began to stroke it slowly, groaning at the feeling.

“Gonna fuck you so hard princess, and you’re gonna take it like the slut you are”

With that Fred shoved his dick into her entrance, making her scream out in pleasure, He instantly began to thrust fast and rough, hitting her g-spot every time. Y/N was a moaning mess. Tears formed in her eyes at the pure pleasure she was in.

“F-fuck Daddy feels so good” she moaned

“yeah? like it when Daddy fucks you like a slut?”

“y-yes fuck Daddy love it so much”

Fred picked up his pace, putting her legs over his shoulders so he could thrust in deeper, both of them moaning at the new angle.

“Such a dirty little slut, making those noises for me” he growled bringing his hand up to her neck, squeezing the sides, causing Y/N’s vision to blur slightly and make her light headed, adding to the pleasure and causing her moans to become louder.

Fred could feel her walls squeezing round his cock, indicating that she was close to her release, the feeling of It causing Fred to let out an animalistic groan.

“Daddy please, m’so close” she moaned squeezing her eyes

“Hold it slut, you’re gonna cum with me, m’kay”

Y/N did as she was told and held her release as much as she could.

With a few more thrusts Fred’s dick twitched with anticipation to release.

“Fuck princess, I'm gonna cum, cum with me ok”

Y/N felt a wave of pleasure flow over her as she reached her high, seeing stars as she felt Fred shoot his cum deep inside her with a groan.

Fred pulled out of her with a hiss, and laid on the bed next to her as they both calmed their breathing.

“Did so well for me princess” he praised, it always made her heart warm when Fred told her how well she done after he degraded her.

“Thank you Freddie, made me feel so good” she said as she snuggled up next to him, his arms wrapping round her waist, kissing her on the forehead before letting her rest and eventually fall asleep.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @love-peachh @pens-and-roses @rosietoesy @comfortwriting @famdomhideout @dracofknmalfoy @pandaxnienke @writing-wh0re @escapingrealitybyreading (MESSAGE/ASK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n #harry potter #fred weasley masterlist #george weasley angst #george��weasley smut #fred weasley smut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluf #harry potter smut #weasley twins smut #weasley twins

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estebanbicon · 3 years ago

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drivers in shopping queen:

(original concept of shopping queen: 5 candidates for each day of the week. each gets 500 bucks to find the perfect outfit for a certain theme guido (a designer) provides. they have a friend with them to help find the perfect outfit. they got 4 hours. once the time is over, u have to show what u bought on a catwalk. u cannot wear anything u haven’t just freshly purchased. the other 4 candidates give u between 0 and 10 points for the outfit. guido also gives his points. the one with the most points at the end of the week wins a 1000 bucks)

lewis bottas: lewis has it all under control fr. bottas just follows him around and keeps drinking from the secco bottle he brought. he keeps the money in check. wants to argue at first, but its useless. they finish in time with very good looks. 9/10

daniel lando: disastrous. they keep forgetting the money in the bus and gotta sprint back to get it. also suck at maths, so they spend half the time calculating. think graphic shirts are the BEST to show up to a rooftop party. wear jorts and call it a day 1 hour before its done to go eat ice cream. 4/10

pierre yuki: organised in between their teasing and taking the piss. know exactly how much money they still can spend. buy funky hawaii shirts and ripped jeans. fuck around and yuki has way too much hairgel in his hair. still somehow make it work. 7/10

este nando: don't really see the point. go buy the blandest fit possible with a uni-coloured shirt and blue jeans and trainers. only spice it up with leather jackets. done after 1 hour and then go sit on those massage chairs shopping centres have. 5/10

george nicky: they both agree that beige is simply THE colour. show up in blazers and beige shorts and tennis socks. buy matching sunglasses. have no money left at the end. 5/10

checo antonio: antonio keeps pulling out skin tight shirts and checo keeps putting them back. finally decide on white shirts with the top two buttons open. antonio can at least convince him to wear boots and at least not dad wide jeans. 7/10

charles mick: charles pulls out the most obscure, colourful designs with a delighted smile and mick looks dead inside. mick tries to go for less attention drawing clothing, but charles pouts and mick gives up. wear matching flannels and neon coloured bandanas with ripped jeans. mick could at least stop charles idea to get their ears pierced at claire's. 5/10

+ bonus: guido with the winners

#f1 #idek what to tag this as lmao #german shitposting kinda #*mine

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

take the day.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: a treat for the grown-ups in the room! this was inspired by an ask from many moons ago, and a couple of ideas submitted in the form. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, tell me what you think (and practice safe sex)! this fic contains explicit content and is 18+. minors do not interact or prepare to be blocked! also some tags aren’t working - please double check your urls below!

words: 2.8k warnings: smut (p in v penetration, [consentual & monogamous] unprotected sex, creampie, counter sex, floor sex, oral [reader receiving], very light soft dom!aaron),language, food mention

summary: “if you can’t laugh with your partner during sex, break up.” - my sister-in-law. au!november 2021.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Take the day. Nothing’s going on here and we don’t have any cases for once.”

You tuck the phone under your chin as you pack the last of the kids’ lunches. “Really?”

Emily’s smile is audible through the phone. “Really. It’s Friday, and isn’t Hotch out today?”

“Yeah, but mostly just to avoid the meetings with -”

Just then, Jack rockets down the stairs, throws his backpack over his shoulder, and grabs his lunch off the counter. With a kiss to your cheek, he jets out the door with a quick, “Bye, Mom!”

You blink rapidly, kind of taken aback by the abrupt nature of his departure. He can drive himself to school now, but he doesn’t always take advantage of it.

“Sorry, Em. Jack just left for school like a damn tornado and I gotta get Isaac out of bed.”

She laughs. “No worries. Swing by my office when you drop the girls at preschool. I’ve got a couple of things for Aaron.”

+++

When you return, the house is eerily quiet.

You toe off your shoes and round the corner to the office with an armful of files in your hand.

Unceremoniously, you drop them on his desk. “These are from Emily.”

He huffs a laugh through his nose without looking up. “Thanks.”

With a sly little smile, you leave him to his work.

Padding across the hall to the master bedroom, you light the fireplace and replace your winter clothes with one of his dress shirts, two buttons holding it closed over the middle of your abdomen, and a pair of fuzzy socks.

You’re grateful for the central heating in the house. You’d never be able to pull this off without it.

After you sneak into the kitchen for a glass of water (you know - the ruse of usefulness), you return to him and place the water next to his left hand. He hardly looks up but mutters his thanks under his breath.

You take your time leaving the office, just reaching the door when you hear, “Wait, hey. Whoa. Back up.”

You don’t follow instructions, walking out of his office and into the kitchen, making play at putting lunch together.

A pair of familiar hands slide up your thighs and underneath the shirt.

“Is this mine?”

You hum in the affirmative. “Thought you’d like it. It looks good on you so I figured it would look alright on me.”

“Uh huh. Yeah, well, if those were the rules I’d have to hand over my entire wardrobe.” Aaron spins you and presses you back into the island, your back arching as he crowds closer to you, his mouth hovering over your neck. “You look better in my clothes than I do.”

You hum again, but your brain is too fuzzy to come up with a retort. He laves kisses over your neck, dropping to your collarbone and brushing his shirt off your shoulder. You decide in that moment to let go, relaxing back into the counter and giving him implicit permission to have his way with you.

“Yeah?” He asks, feeling you sink back.

You nod, bringing your hand to his hair and pulling him to your lips. “Yeah.”

With a dark laugh, he turns you around again and snags your hands, pressing them to the cold granite countertop. You’re stretched taut, your legs already shaking with anticipation.

His hands slide up your arms and over your back, the starched fabric of his dress shirt a delicious texture over your skin. He reaches your hips, his hands wandering under the hem of his shirt and hooking his fingers in the fabric of your underwear, practically tearing them over your ass and down your legs. You step out of them and he nudges them out of the way.

He kicks your feet apart at the ankles, spreading your legs and forcing your back into a gentle arch.

A perk of law enforcement training - some moves translate well in the bedroom.

Or the kitchen.

You hear him unbutton his jeans and free himself, not even pretending the last half-hour hasn’t been its own kind of foreplay. An empty house is practically an open invitation at this point.

He runs the head of his cock through your folds, pressing against your clit with every pass. You drop your forehead to the countertop with a whine, letting the cool temperature soothe your heated skin.

Aaron doesn’t quit rutting against your wetness, only just teasing your entrance before sliding up to your clit again. From experience, you know he could theoretically do this for hours, waiting for you to get desperate, squirmy, and whiney.

It’s working. You wiggle back against him, but his hands cover yours with a smack as he shushes you, his hips pressing yours flush against the edge of the counter. You’re sure the granite against you would hurt if it wasn’t so hot.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, low and soft in your ear.

You swallow as his lips wander over your neck and shoulder. “I want you.”

He hums in understanding, sucking bruises along the line of your shoulder blade. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Your answer is breathless, and you shove your fingers between his from underneath, holding on as best you can.

“Do you know how good you look in my shirt and nothing else?”

You nod.

“Do you know what it does to me when you look like that? My wife in my clothes?”

You don’t answer, knowing it’ll only pay off for you. He lets go of your hands and grips your hips, yanking you back toward him. It’s only an inch or so, but you can feel his cock pressed against you, the cold metal buttons against your ass, the coarse feeling of his jeans against the skin of your thighs.

“Do you want me to show you what it does to me? What you do to me?”

You swallow and nod, pressing your chest into the counter, bracing yourself. “Yes.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, plenty slick with your arousal - you’re practically dripping, soaking your thighs and the apex of your legs.

Aaron slams into your heat, all the way to your cervix, with a searing kiss pressed to the middle of your back to smother his groan. You cry out from deep in your chest, drawing it out as he pulls back, dragging against your walls before filling you again, his hips audibly making contact with your ass.

It’s rare you get a chance like this. Even at night, with the kids’ rooms upstairs, you have to be relatively quiet. Aaron, when he really lets go, can get loud, and so can you, with his encouragement. So, needless to say, your opportunities are few and far between.

A steady stream of curses leave him through gritted teeth, watching his own hands pull you onto and push you off of his cock, bottoming out every time.

You’re not even sure what noises you’re making, but there are a lot of them. You unstick your palms from the granite, reaching around to press your fingertips into the part of Aaron’s hip you can find.

He leaves you then, falling out of your reach as he pulls out and turns you around again.

Suddenly, you’re over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

How does he do that?

The smell of his body wash from his morning shower lingers in the air as he brings you into the bedroom, dropping to his knees on the soft rug in front of the lit fireplace.

He supports your shoulders as he tips you backwards, sealing your lips in a searing kiss. Your hands are in his hair, more for the feeling of it than for support.

The plush rug is warm from the fire, a stark contrast to the cool kitchen island. His weight on top of you seems to sink right into your bones, a feeling of safety and love soaking into your skin.

Much to your chagrin, he’s still fully clothed, his pants loose around his hips and his shirt hiked up to his ribs. You find the hem and separate yourself from his mouth only long enough to yank it over his head and throw it toward the bed.

He laughs into his next kisses, but it turns into a sigh as your hands run over his sides, pressing firmly into his waist, before dragging up his back and back into his hair.

“Are you gonna let me go?” He asks against your mouth.

You shake your head. “Don’t wanna.”

He laughs, tipping your head back and peppering kisses to your jaw and neck. “Fine.”

His kisses meander down, nosing a path past the collar and buttons of his shirt on his way to your chest. He pauses at your breasts, drawing patterns with his tongue until you’re taut and puckered under his touch.

His hands follow his mouth, unbuttoning the two buttons you’d done up to play at modesty, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He reaches your hips and scoops your legs onto his shoulders, kissing a path down the creases of your thighs.

When he finally wraps his lips around your clit, your hips buck into him. He laughs, sending a buzz up your spine, and locks your hips in his hands, holding you securely to his mouth.

You resist the urge to bring your hand to your face, letting your whimpers and groans leave you at full volume. One hand finds a home in his hair while the other claws at the carpet. He could probably eat you out in his sleep at this point, what with the way he knows the pace, the pattern, the pressure you like. He’s consistent but never boring, always managing to lull you into a dull hum of pleasure, your legs shaking under his hands, before pulling something that makes you jump and whine.

His warm breath fans across your lower belly, keeping him centered as he flicks his tongue against your clit, dipping lower to your entrance, sliding back. He sucks your inner lips into his mouth, letting them go with obscene, wet pop before pulling your clit back into his mouth, feasting on you like a man starved.

You clench around nothing, desperate for him to fill you with anything, anything to ease the want that courses through you. There might be a moment when you ask for something, but you’re not entirely sure.

He chuckles, a dark and smug sound, but only continues until your center starts to throb, shocking your body with pleasure all the way to your fingertips. Aaron can feel it too, running his hand up your abdomen, reminding you to relax.

You take the note, slowing your breath and relaxing into the floor. Your grip in Aaron’s hair doesn’t budge, tight and close to the root.

He’s determined to get you off with his mouth alone, his fingers digging deeper into your hips to keep himself on track.

The pulse of your walls continues until the tension crawls into the rest of your body. Your shoulders pull away from the rug as your body curls forward, your hips stuttering even under Aaron’s firm grip. Both of your hands wind into his hair and you fall over the edge, chanting his name.

Your upper body twists, your cheek against the plush carpet as you convulse under his continuing ministrations. Your hips are still locked to the floor under his hands, braced by his shoulders and held by his mouth. You can feel his smile as he rides it out with you, backing off on the pressure as pleasure rolls through you in violent, overwhelming waves.

Your jaw seems to be stuck open, your eyes wide as you stare into nothing. Aaron slows, the strokes of his tongue long and drawn-out against the length of your sex, before stopping entirely, pressing a kiss right above your clit.

He crawls up your body, keeping some of his weight on you as he finds your lips again. You’re still boneless, catching your breath, shaking, and experiencing little shockwaves that irregularly catch your abs.

With that in mind, you can hardly kiss him back - instead, passively letting him smother you in affection, vaguely processing the fact you can taste yourself on his tongue. You wrap your ankles around his lower back, and he finally sheds his jeans and boxer briefs.

“You good?” He asks.

You nod. “Mhmm.” You reach between your bodies and stroke him a couple of times. “Gimme.”

He laughs out loud then, kissing you soundly as he slides home.

You whimper into his mouth, your overheated flesh alive with sensation as he rocks into you, nearly frictionless. He holds you tight, his hand splayed across your shoulders underneath the shirt you’re still (somehow) wearing.

You let your mind wander a little, combing through Aaron’s hair with your fingers and tucking your face into his neck.

It’s been ten years with him, almost exactly. You’re a far cry from the person you were then, and you think maybe Aaron is a different man, too.

Not where it counts though. He’ll always be that chronically-stressed, endlessly-dedicated tightass who thinks too much and speaks too little. If anyone asked, he’s still the smartest, warmest man you know. Privately, you know he’s also the dumbest invulnerable moron who ever drew breath.

That makes you laugh, and you wrap your arms further around him. He doesn’t stop, but cranes his neck to look at you.

“What?”

You shake your head, bringing your hands to the sides of his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Just thinking about you.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, his head tilting sardonically to the side as he snaps his hips to yours, making you jump and clench around him. “I’d hope so.”

Flipping onto his back, he pulls you on top of him and has the audacity to wink at you.

The pair of you giggle and laugh your way to your destination. His laughing smothers his curses as he cums, fucking up into you and holding you flush to him by the hips. You follow him by scant seconds, bracing yourself on his chest as you drag out your orgasm, enjoying the rush and the laughter and just being together.

When you both completely run out of steam, you lift yourself off of him and tip sideways, landing flat on your back out on the rug.

This poor thing has seen more use today than in its entire lifetime.

You roll over after a second, propping your head on your elbow. Aaron mirrors you, meeting your eyes.

“That was fun,” he says.

You nod, bringing your hand to the graying hair at his temple. “Don’t get too many chances for this kind of fun anymore, huh?”

He sighs and pulls your hand from his hair, kissing your palm and folding your hand in his. “No, we don’t, but it’s…” He thinks for a moment. “It’s nice to appreciate it more than we used to.”

“Yeah.”

+++

You twist back and forth on the barstool, watching Aaron slice an apple and some strawberries. You both did away with the lunch idea, deciding it was too much work to put something together.

It feels awfully like your first weekend together, the only differences are in the scenery. Even the wardrobe is similar. You’re in the shirt he started in, not much else, and he’s in his jeans, shirtless and barefoot.

It’s nice to see him wandering around with a kind of carelessness. You’re not sure any of the little ones have seen him without a shirt, not for any real length of time that they would remember. He told you once that he doesn’t want to scare them.

You reminded him that this is their normal, too. They’ve never known him without the scars so they’ll always know him with them. The little ones don’t know to be scared.

Still, he’s careful.

It’s a work in progress.

“What were you thinking about before?” He asks, rounding the island. He goes to lean on it, but hesitates. “We have to wipe down the counter.”

You snort and take the plate from him, headed for the living room. “It’s been ten years and you’ve never changed.”

He rolls his eyes and follows you, sitting down in his chair so you can sit in his lap, the plate of fruit on the coffee table. “Is predictable so bad?”

“No,” you reply, your eyebrows raised. “I was just answering your question.”

He huffs a laugh down his nose. “You haven’t changed, either, for the record.”

“Is that a good thing?”

With a smile, he pulls you gently by the side of the head, tucking you under his chin. “It’s a very good thing.” Then, almost inaudibly -

“A great thing.”

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @arganfics @angelsbabey @venusbarnes @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchslatte @avengersbau @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @reidtomestyles @crazyshannonigans @iconicc @deagibs @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @bwbatta @lotties-journey-abroad @ssahotchnerr @unicorn-bitch @capricorngf @zizzlekwum @cevanswhre @this-broken-band-girl @word-scribbless @averyhotchner @reidingmelodies @shesbiochem4 @violet-amxthyst @kelstark@mandylove1000 @sunshine-em @starsandasteroids @roses-and-grasses @ssworldofsw @sunflowersandotherthings @little-blue-fishie @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #tali talks cm #tali writes fanfiction #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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lumosinlove · 3 years ago

Text

Vaincre

part iv

October

We fell in love in October

That's why, I love fall

Looking at the stars

Admiring from afar

Hey everyone, welcome to Puck Drop Podcast. Today’s hot topic—well, it’s still the Lions. Here’s what I think. That Black Lupin two-tap was fantastic. Right, Mike?

It was, it was.

But here’s the thing—I think that’s going to make a lot of people okay with Lupin being, well, let’s be real, I might call it fast tracked to the NHL.

Fast tracked, Henry? I don’t know, the kid had all the qualifications.

Fine, fine, but I do gotta say…if Lupin doesn’t play well…what’s gonna happen then? With Coach Weasley, with Black, with the organization. I just think we’re on a slippery slope here—

“Jesus Christ, Pots,” Finn shouted. “Take my fucking eye out, why don’t you!”

James looked uneasily at the golf club in his hands. “Sorry. Wow, sorry.”

Logan just clicked his tongue. “I thought we were allowed to play golf because it isn’t dangerous.”

“That is why,” Finn said, and pointed at James. “Until this untamed, grass-bouncing, metal-swinging—”

“All right, all right,” Sirius chuckled.

“We’re drawing eyes, boys,” Remus said from his golf cart. He had his feet up on the seat and an iced tea in his hands.

Logan glanced at the party ahead of them. “Harzy, am I gonna have to buy some lady a cheeseburger from the clubhouse again?”

Finn just held up his hands in surrender.

“You know,” Leo said once Logan joined him in the cart they were sharing.

“Ouais, mon soleil?”

Leo smiled, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses, then tapped his palm. “Didn’t think I’d ever find a golf glove attractive, and yet there Harzy stands.”

“Plaid pants and all,” Logan nodded.

“Those’re checkered, baby.”

Logan looked again. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Want to ditch and get a cheeseburger?”

Leo laughed. “Why did we come if we don’t play?”

Logan smiled, flipping his hat backwards and starting the engine. “To watch Harzy and Cap get competitive and James lose.”

Leo shook his head, then leaned back in his seat. “Loops, clubhouse, burgers.”

“Oh, thank God,” Remus said. “Bye, Black.”

Sirius raised his club. “Don’t you want to watch me win?”

“I am convinced this game can’t be won,” Remus said, and followed Logan and Leo’s cart in his own.

“The real win,” Remus said, squirting mustard onto his burger. “Would have been not getting up at seven in the morning to trip over sprinklers.”

“Preach,” Leo nodded. “Hey, what are you and Cap thinking for Halloween?”

Remus chewed thoughtfully. “Haven’t really started thinking yet. You?”

Logan snorted, stealing the mustard. “Knutty’s obsessed.”

“What?” Leo said. “I was a lonely rookie last year! Now I’m a…” he glanced around. “Non-rookie.”

Logan’s heart pulled at the correction. He nudged his knee against Leo’s beneath the table and felt Leo nudge back. Remus seemed to catch the brief silence.

“Watch Sirius make me dress up as the Stanley Cup,” he said.

Logan laughed. “Non, you’ve never won it, you can’t touch it. He’ll be the Cup, you’ll be him.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’m with Lo. He’s too superstitious,” Leo said. “No way.”

Remus gestured between them. “Three Musketeers?”

“Finn and Leo with a sword,” Logan said skeptically.

“What?” Leo smirked, resting a chin on his palm. “You don’t trust me with a sword?”

Logan snorted, pushing his palm into Leo’s cheek.

The doors to the club house restaurant sprung open.

“Victory is mine!” Finn shouted, and actually spun on his heel in a complete circle. “Victory is mine.”

Sirius slouched dejectedly into their booth beside Remus.

“Sorry, baby,” Remus laughed.

“Apparently he drinks from the keg of glory,” James sighed.

“It’s a quote,” Leo laughed.

“Muffins,” Finn grinned. “Bagels. Actually, burgers will do.”

Logan watched as Finn reached over and grabbed a fry from Leo’s plate and a bite of Logan’s burger. It was something they had started doing a lot—a public closeness they could always get away with. Finn unstrapped his golf glove slowly and close to Sirius’ face, who slapped it away.

“You’re not going to dress up as the Stanley Cup, are you?” Remus asked, turning his plate so his fries were in Sirius’ reach.

Sirius took his hat off to push his hair back before replacing it again and grabbing a fry. “Quoi?”

Remus looked at Leo and shrugged.

“Harz, do you trust me with a sword?” Leo asked Finn.

Finn smiled, dropping his voice low and flashing that crooked smile Logan had always fallen for. “You know I do.”

Logan just sent his eyes towards the sky, but his chest warmed at the smitten look Leo got, too, and he hailed a waiter for more food.

“Damn,” Finn said as their front door shut behind them. “Who said it was a good idea to go golfing in October? What do you say I mix us up some nice whiskey-warming manhattans?” He tossed his keys down and wrapped Logan up, arms around his waist and pressed a quick and hard kiss to his mouth. “Extra cherries for you, mon cherry.”

“Chéri,” Logan corrected, but he smiled into Finn’s next kiss, which was much gentler.

“Please,” Leo said, flopping down onto the couch. “That was the longest day of my life.”

“I can make it up to you with the longest night of your life,” Finn said, resting a cheek on Logan’s head. “Or we can.”

Leo smiled and stretched a little sleepily, pointing his toes. “I’ll take my whiskey first.”

Finn snorted and tweaked Leo’s socked feet. “You got it.”

Logan slid into a seat at their countertop. “Remember those ones at that bar you found in, where, were we visiting my family in Canada?”

Finn, reaching into the bar cupboard he kept meticulously organized, let out a whiskey. “I’d give that bartender anything she wants for that recipe.”

Logan sent Leo raised eyebrows, who snorted and looked back.

“Oh, would you now, O’Hara?” Leo laughed.

Finn looked up from scooping ice from the freezer. “Almost anything. Although, she was beautiful. Reminded me of this girl I dated for a second in college. Remember Hannah, Lo?”

“Oh, I remember Hannah,” Logan grumbled, and Finn kissed his fingers before reaching cross the counter to press them to Logan’s forehead. Logan just smiled—and he could smile about it now, sometimes—and patted the stool beside him with a look at Leo.

Leo pulled himself up with big eyes. “My crush wants me to sit next to him.”

Logan took out his phone with a playful glare. “You’re both sarcastic today.”

“It’s the golf,” Leo said dryly and slid into the seat next to Logan. “And you’re sweet.”

“I just like it when we all sit together,” Logan shrugged.

Leo laughed, hooking his feet around the legs of Logan’s stool to pull him closer. “How is someone so lovingly grumpy?”

“Please,” Finn said, stirring their drink. “Look at him. He uses it to get affection.”

Logan just smiled and reached for one of the crackers Finn put out before holding it up to pop into Leo’s mouth.

Finn sighed as he poured their drinks. “All right, I know golf’s not your thing. Thanks for coming with me, though.”

“Believe me,” Leo said. “It was worth it, you cocky golf glove.”

Finn snorted.

“Plaid,” Logan nodded.

“Checkered,” Leo amended.

“Ouais. Same thing.”

“No,” Finn said, looking up from their drinks, and Logan grinned, wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist.

“Non?” he asked.

Finn just slid their glasses towards them. “You’re fucking with me, Tremblay. Now, cheers to…”

Leo raised his glass, the other hand playing with the hem of Logan’s shirt. “Ring ceremony in a few days.”

Logan eyed the syrupy cherries at the bottom of his drink. Finn had given him two. He took a sip and let the thick sugar settle over his tongue.

“Can we display ours?” Finn asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. “All three in a row. I like that.”

Leo winced. “So many diamonds.”

“Why are you flinching at that?” Logan laughed.

“I don’t know, it feels flashy?” Leo took another sip.

Logan just pressed his nose against Leo’s jaw. “We deserve it.”

Leo smiled and turned into it, accepting a soft kiss.

“Jesus, Harz, how much syrup did you put in his drink?” Leo said, but gave Logan another quick peck.

“Probably not enough,” Finn laughed, and came around the counter. “I need to sit, my golf muscles hurt.”

“Right, those big things,” Leo said.

Finn just gave his own butt a tap and fell into their oversized couch. Even with all the space, they all still ended up pushed up against each other in one corner. Logan loved that more than he’d ever said out loud.

“Sweatshirt,” he said, and dropped another kiss to Leo’s cheek, took another sip of his drink and padded out of the room. He let his belt clink to the floor along with his pants and yanked his polo shirt over his head. His necklace got caught briefly in one of the buttons. He turned when two hands pressed to his hips from behind.

Leo pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then the top notch of his spine. “Want one of mine?”

Logan leaned back against him. “Ouais, thanks.”

But Leo didn’t move right away, just wrapped Logan up tighter. He pressed his nose into Logan’s neck and inhaled. Logan reached back and up, scratching at the hair that curled against Leo’s neck.

“Can I ask something?” Leo said, words muffled by his skin.

Logan stayed where Leo obviously wanted him, fingers kneading the back of his neck gently.

“Do you think coach is gonna start me?”

“In the opener?” Logan asked, and Leo hummed.

“Kasey thinks so,” he said. “Because it’s Bruins and I play okay against them.”

“You kill against them,” Logan said, and Leo finally pulled back with a last squeeze to Logan’s hip. He was quiet as he found the sweatshirt he knew Logan liked, and tossed it to him.

“Leo,” Logan prompted after he’d pulled it over his head.

“I know, I know,” Leo said, and smiled, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, I love the way you say my name.”

“And you call me the subject changer,” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I just don’t think he will,” Leo said, crossing his arms as they walked back out to the living room. “I mean, I wish. I hope.”

Finn was sprawled out across the couch. He’d brought Leo and Logan’s glasses over and Logan took another sip of the warm whiskey before curling against one of Finn’s sides, Leo stretching his legs into Finn’s lap.

“What’s happening?” Finn asked, thumb rubbing against Leo’s ankle, knowing they got sore.

“Just thinking about the season,” Leo said. “Kasey said he thinks I’ll start. I can’t imagine why.”

Finn frowned. “Well, if Kasey was gonna be gone, he’d be gone. With the thigh, with the crazy off-season. I mean, the League’s shifting around there’s no doubt about that. I think it’s calming down now, though.”

Logan curled closer to Finn, reaching out for Leo’s foot, too, tracing the shape of the nike logo across the top of his sock.

“And Kase’s the starter,” Finn said. “That’s what the organization knows, that’s what the city knows. I…I say this with all the love for your skill, baby, but I’d be surprised if it isn’t Kasey.”

Leo nodded. “No, don’t worry, that’s what I think, too. I just…”

He trailed off and Logan gave his ankle a tug, making him sit up.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Is this about bench time?” Finn asked.

Leo groaned. “I feel like such a fucking whiner saying it.”

“You can say literally anything to us,” Logan said, then smiled. “Leo.”

Leo just flopped his cheek against Finn’s chest.

“Maybe you’ll feel a little better once we get our rings,” Finn laughed, fingers running through Leo’s hair. “I know I will. I feel like…” Finn hesitated. “I don’t know. Every time I think about our ring, and our Cup days…I feel like I’ll never play the same again.”

Logan made an affirmative sound. “Yeah.”

“Really?” Leo mumbled.

“Nervous,” Logan nodded. “It all feels different. I thought it was Loops for a bit, but…Harzy, you’re right, I think it’s the Cup. I feel…I want it all over again, but it feels impossible.”

“I also…” Finn hesitated, stroking his hands through Leo’s hair a few more times, watching the blond curls slip through his fingers. “I loved our summer so much. I feel sort of guilty but…I miss it.”

Leo let out a soft laugh. “Thank God, me, too.”

“We get more of those,” Logan said, and it felt a little defensive.

“I feel selfish,” Finn said thoughtfully. “I have everything I want, and I want it again.”

“That’s not selfish,” Leo replied. “I think…I think that’s just human.”

Logan thought of the picture in Finn’s pocket and Harvard parties. He thought of long nights on the road, laughing with Leo over their sundaes. Logan had both wanted that over and over, but it had felt a little like poking himself with the tip of a knife over and over, too. He closed his eyes and let himself listen to them talk. Finn was agreeing, and then Leo was laughing. They ordered dinner for delivery, the Greek place down the street, and then sat in each other’s silence. Logan could tell Leo was still thinking about the season, watching the city lights out the window with Logan’s head in his lap. Logan stared up at him, at his blue eyes, dark in the dim light. His jaw would twitch every once in a while, a muscle clenched. Finn had a book open, slouched at the other end of the sofa.

Leo probably wouldn’t sleep well tonight, but sometimes Logan looked forward to their time in the dark together. Ankles tangled, eyes closed but knowing the other one was awake. They’d talk sleepily about the next day, until Logan decided enough was enough and he’d pull Leo against his chest, tucking the taller blond’s head beneath his chin for once.

Leo would hum contently. “What did I do before you, hm?”

Logan would smile. He used to listen to Leo toss and turn from one bed over, and now there was this. He loved that like air, too.

“Hey, rookie! Hold the door?”

Cole turned to see Thomas and his crutches, which seemed familiar now from him always sitting on the bench during practice. He was flanked by two people who could only be his parents.

His mother hit him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. “He’s got a name, Tom.”

“Hey, man, of course,” Cole said and looked down at Katie, who was holding his hand. “Gotta switch hands, okay?”

“No, I can do it,” Katie said, and flattened her back against the door. “Does it hurt all the time, Talkie?”

Thomas smiled down at her. “No, not all the time.” Thomas looked up and sent Cole one of his bright smiles. “Thanks. Sick tat, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said, but I’ve thought it.”

Cole’s hand instinctively went to his collarbone as he let the door to Olivander’s Hotel swing shut behind them. “Thanks. It’s my number.” He huffed out a laugh. “I mean, obviously.”

“I��ve been thinking about getting one,” Thomas said, and wedged a crutch under his arm and tapped the center of his chest. “Not sure where, but I like the chest as a place to start.”

Cole smiled, nodding. “I—me too. Yeah, maybe we could…like, go together, or something. I was reading some stuff about the best places, and also Nado was telling me. Well, trying to tell me.”

Thomas laughed. “Kuny kept interrupting?”

Cole laughed, too, nodding. “In Russian, though.”

“That sounds like Kuns,” Thomas said. “And yeah, man, I’d love to. Do you have any ideas?”

Cole shrugged as he and Thomas showed their IDs, the Dumais’ and Walkers chatting behind them. “Hopefully something about Lord Stanley one day, but right now…maybe something for my mom.”

Thomas nodded. “She coming today?”

Cole nodded, not able to help his smile, turning his phone over in his pocket. “Her flight was delayed but she shouldn’t miss anything.”

They walked through the lobby, joining much of the team that was already there. The large round tables reminded Cole of a wedding, and the stage was set with a podium for speeches with the numerous ring boxes behind.

“Cole!” came a familiar voice, and Cole spun around to find his mother walking through the double-doors, as if talking about her had made her appear. He wished he had that power. Blake Reyes was in her usual bright colors, her dark hair slicked up into a bun that let her tight curls spill over her forehead like bouncing bangs.

“Be right back,” Cole said, and Thomas nodded, tapping his shin with his crutch.

“Mom,” Cole grinned, and wrapped her up tight. He’d been taller than her for years, but it still felt strange. The soft curves of her were familiar, though. “You made it. Okay flight?”

“Yeah, yeah, read my book,” she said, and pulled back to look around. “This place is nice. How are you, baby?”

“Olivander’s Hotel,” Cole said. “Apparently different places were fighting to have the ring ceremony. I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Feels kind of weird being here.”

“Maybe you’ll be getting one of those rings next year, hm?” she smiled.

“Maybe,” Cole laughed, and then, more timidly, asked, “Dad?”

Blake’s expression tightened, eyes sad. “No, sweetheart. I…I’m sorry. He’s…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Cole gave a short shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she sighed. “But it’s…”

“Come on,” Cole said. “I’ll introduce you to Dumo and Celeste.”

His mother grinned. “Oh, my shy boy is growing up.”

“Shh,” Cole laughed. “Don’t say that to Sirius Black.”

“Say what to Sirius Black?”

Sirius strode beside him, hand in hand with Remus. It was Remus who had spoken, and grinned now, and Cole flushed at the good-natured chirp. Sirius just offered a shy hand to his mother.

Cole had a wave of surreality wash over him for what felt like the thousandth time as he watched his mother say call me Blake to Sirius Black, who he’d had on his wall for God’s sake.

It happened all anew once they were ushered into the ballroom for the presentation of the Stanley Cup champion rings. The team and management had been called up one by one, but they opened their boxes together. Cole wouldn’t get one, but he leaned over to see Finn’s, whose mother seemed to love his own, their heads bent close together, giggling. The ring was square in shape, too big to be worn on any practical day, and covered in small diamonds, some stones colored red and black to make the Lion. The golden band was engraved with name, number, year, and, of course, champion. The word took the air out of the room.

Finn blew out a shaky, awed breath, and Cole watched him look up, something like tears in his eyes. When he followed his gaze, Cole found him looking at Logan. It made sense, and made Cole even happier for the team. Finn and Logan had probably been dreaming of this since their college days together. Cole looked back at Finn to ask him about it, when Finn mouthed something that, to Cole, looked very much like the words love you.

Cole blinked, but Finn was leaning his chair back on two legs, then, whistling two notes that got Leo’s attention. Leo, who was crying—an act that made him look even more like his dad, sitting beside him and crying, too—let out a wet laugh and wiggled his fingers at Finn which he had put the heavy ring on.

“One day, huh, Cole?”

Cole looked at Mr. O’Hara, who was smiling kindly at him.

“Oh, yes,” his mother answered for him. “One day.”

One day. Cole wanted to believe it.

Well, folks, here we are. We here in the studio welcome you to The Lions pre-game show. Dean, opening thoughts?

Well, we’re up against the Bruins, who had a phenomenal season last year. And, of course, we’ll see some fun rivalries tonight. Marchand has never been a Gryffindor favorite.

Is he anyone’s?

Ha, all right, there, Lee, all right. The real point is we’ll have a full stadium, and this game is ready to set the tone for the season. I’m ready, Lee, are you?

Oh, you bet.

Sirius found Remus sitting with Layla, legs swinging slightly from his perch on the PT bench. Worry tweaked through him at first, until he realized that they were laughing together.

Sirius knocked lightly on the door. “Hi.”

Layla looked up, still mid-laugh. “Oh, hey, Cap, come on in.”

“Just wondering where you went,” Sirius said, leaning beside Remus.

Remus shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know, this is where I spent every other pre-game. Felt right, I guess. I was coming back soon.” He knocked their shoulders together playfully. “You left your stretches to come find me?”

Layla made a cooing noise as she opened the door. “Gotta get this to Kasey, be right back.”

Remus’ expression morphed into one of concern. “Is it the—”

Layla put up a hand to stop him. She pointed to herself. “PT,” then to Remus. “Winger.”

Remus looked sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

Sirius sent her a smile, but looked back to Remus. Remus pulled him in closer, allowing Sirius to be boxed in by his thighs.

“It’s a big night,” Sirius said, and pressed a light kiss to his mouth. “A good night. I wanted to be by your side.”

“Bruins,” Remus whistled lowly. “Let’s take ‘em.”

Sirius laughed, squeezing his hips. “I thought you were going say you’re worried.”

“What, about an original six team?” Remus laughed. “We’re the Lions.”

“Coach might put us out there together again,” Sirius said. “After pre-season.”

Remus ran his hands through Sirius’ hair. “My mind-reader.”

Sirius smiled, leaning forward to nip gently at Remus’ lower lip. “What am I thinking now?”

“That this is not your office, lovebirds,” Lars’ voice came. Sirius turned to look, only to see that he wore his usual strangely soft-stony expression. “I believe that’d be the front of the net for you, Black.”

Remus laughed, sliding from the table. “Sorry, man, we’ll get out of your way.”

Lars just looked down at a chart he held. “Black, stay a minute?”

Sirius paused, glancing down at Remus. “Uh, sure.”

Remus sent him a quick smile and slipped out the door.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms.

Lars folded the pages of the clipboard back and set it on the counter. “I was trying to get you earlier, but it says there that you utilize the sports psychologist.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Heather’s been a big help to me.”

Lars nodded. “I’m not here to violate any confidentiality, I just need to know if you’re still with her regularly. This chart stops a few months before Lupin left. Is that correct?”

Sirius tilted his head. “Why do you…”

“If something happens, I like to know who is familiar with her and who is not, that way I can know who I can help and in what way. Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

That made Sirius relax a little. “Not as regularly, no.”

“Great, thank you,” Lars nodded.

Sirius offered a slight smile as he slipped out the door. Lars was direct and to the point in a way that often came with a new job. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ first days with the organization, trying to be as professional as possible. It was true, he hadn’t seen Heather over the summer at all, nor too much once their Cup run had begun. He smiled a little when he realized that he missed her.

Remus was strapping his pads over his bare chest when Sirius entered the locker room. He raised an eyebrow, and Sirius flashed him a thumbs up. James was talking to Thomas as he laced up his skates, Thomas gesturing with his crutches.

Sirius, finished with his routines with his eyes passing around the room. He found himself nervous in a way he hadn’t been for a few years now. The season after a Cup win was always strange for any team. He felt the old sting of you did it once, do it again. They way he used to feel about goals—about any good thing. That it only mattered if he could repeat.

He blinked against the onslaught, it brought heat to his cheeks.

You did it once, do it again.

“Hey,” James’ voice cut through, his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius looked over at him, panic beginning to tickle his throat. He took a slow breath through it. “Quoi?”

James dangled his phone by two fingers like an enticing treat. “Want to see Harry pictures?”

Sirius’ mouth lifted. He scooted over a little in his stall, leaning in. He put his hand over James’ and squeezed. “Yeah. Ouais, please, I do.”

They made it through four before James looked over at him, contents replacing his glasses for the game.

“You’re good,” James said. “We’re all here.”

Sirius could only smile back.

Remus pushed away the nerves and let the crowd wash over him as, side by side with Cole, they took their first laps around Hogwarts stadium. It was their home opener.

Remus had only dreamed of this.

“Pretty perfect,” Cole shouted over the noise, and they grinned at each other before each shooting a puck into the empty net.

Before the game could begin, they would hoist the banner for their Cup win into the rafters to accompany the two others, won in 1941 and 1970. Hogwarts dimmed its lights, Remus stood between Sirius and Pascal, keeping his muscles warm, and a video began to play on the big screen.

“You know,” Pascal’s voice filled the stadium, much to the delight of the fans. His kind face appeared on the screen in an interview chair, the Lions’ logo out of focus in the background. He shrugged a broad shoulder and scratched a hand idly through they graying scruff on his cheek. “I wait for this all my life, and then I want more,” He let out a short laugh. “I’m the old guy, non? I love to succeed with my friends, my family.”

Logan was next, green eyes shy and watchful. Looking at him, you’d never guess at the fire beneath.

“It’s…” he began, and shifted in the way he did in front of the cameras. “It means more because of our team. We were lucky that it’s mostly the same guys this year.” A smile, a glimpse of fire. “Let’s do it again.”

The stadium roared and continued to do as Sirius appeared next. They’d filmed it a few days after all of the celebrations had ended, hoping to catch everyone before they left for vacation.

“It was everything to be asked to wear the C,” Sirius said. “And this team…I’ve changed a lot with them. Each and every one of them deserves this more than anything.”

“Proud Captain!” Finn’s voice could be heard off-camera, and then Remus heard his own laugh. He hadn’t even known he was going to be a Lion at this point.

Sirius shrugged. “Ouais? Yes, yes, of course.”

James, glasses winking in the camera’s lights, talked about his family, and then the banner was being raised to the cheers of the stadium, fans pounding on the glass. Remus spared one glance to the Bruins, who had to sit silently on their bench through it all, but just smiled.

He wanted a Cup. He wanted it on the ice this time.

The national anthem played, and Remus felt Sirius’ presence close to his back, even while he watched Finn drape his usual hand over Logan’s shoulder.

“Mon Loup,” Sirius whispered.

Remus turned his head slightly.

“Love you.”

Remus smiled. The words were just breath, most likely Sirius wanting the moment to be private, to avoid the camera reading his lips. Remus turned fully around as the lights came up, just before Sirius was due to jump the boards for a face off.

“Love you,” he said, and Sirius grinned.

Bergeron won the first and carried it easily up towards Kasey, only for Olli to intercept his pass. Sirius caught it on his stick, shot it to James—

Coach called his number, along with Jackson’s and Evgeni’s.

Remus hopped the boards and the whistle blew.

“Too many men!” the ref shouted with his crossed arms.

Remus blinked, coming to a stop. He looked back towards the bench, where he was being motioned back.

“Eh, confused there, Lupin?” Marchand called, which got him a hard shove in the back from Evgeni.

“You confused,” Evgeni said in his deep voice, and the whistle blew to re-set.

Remus tried not to blush as he skated to line up for the face-off, but he was surprised. He’d looked, hadn’t he? He hadn’t misheard? It was a bad change, that was all.

Evgeni won it, but Remus flubbed his pass and Pastrnak scooped it up the ice and scored an early goal in Kasey’s glove.

Remus closed his eyes briefly, then flashed them open, hoping the camera hadn’t caught it. Hockey was fast.

Remus took a slow breath as Coach called him off the ice as quickly as he had been put on. As he slid onto the bench he felt Arthur give him a hard, encouraging thump on the back. That still wasn’t how he wanted to open his season, his career as a Lion.

“Loops.”

Remus looked up and accepted the helmet bump from Finn.

“I’m good,” Remus said. “Little startled, I guess. I’m fine.”

But he played three more shifts in the first.

The locker room was normal, buzzed off of the adrenaline, and Remus sat down in his stall, trying to ignore the way James and Sirius were dripping with sweat and he wasn’t. He sent Sirius a smile but otherwise kept his head down, not really wanting to talk. He remembered this from college. Everyone called him levelheaded, but he was as bad as Sirius was when it came to emotions on the ice—even if he hoped he hid it well.

“Yo.”

Thomas eased himself down into his stall beside Remus with a grunt, and propped his crutches beside him.

“Hey,” Remus said, then, unable to help himself—it was Thomas, after all—asked, “Did it all look as bad from the box?”

“Re, it’s your first shift of your first NHL game,” Thomas said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. “The big lights get everyone. Even Remus Lupin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus said, running a towel over his face. “I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. He glanced towards Sirius, but he wasn’t looking at him, determinedly re-tying his skates and still talking to James. Remus didn’t want to say he’d expected some comfort, but he didn’t much like the the silence, either.

Thomas clapped him on the back. “Worry just makes it worse, yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, my specialty.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s just one game. Thanks, T.”

Remus rose as they were called back out onto the ice, pushing his helmet back on and lingering a bit to take his place just in front of Sirius. He watched as Sirius hyped his team up, cracking jokes and tapping sticks. The perfect captain. Remus reached him with a strange feeling. It wasn’t until Sirius’ eyes found his that he realized he felt like he’d let Sirius down. He blinked, startled, heart beating quicker with the added nerves of not wanting to feel that way.

Sirius just smiled, softer, his smile saved only for Remus, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Love you,” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Remus blurted, and that hadn’t been what he meant to say.

Sirius’ expression immediately morphed into one of concern. “Re, non…” he glanced at the staff lingering about.

Remus didn’t want to talk about it here, not where people could hear.

“Love you,” he said, and ducked through the tunnel.

Remus was ready for October to be over. He tried to breathe through it—this happened sometimes, slumps were part of hockey—but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Marlene tried to keep him away from the worst of the press, and Remus tried not to look, but she couldn’t stop what reporters he did do media with from asking the hard questions. How did he feel about his performance? Or, the even worse occasional one—how did he think Sirius felt about it?

If someone asked Sirius that, he went back to his unreadable, stony expression and gave them nothing. Remus only wished he had such a poker face.

“Re,” Sirius called from the bedroom. “Almost ready?”

Remus took a breath and tried to push thoughts of hockey away, laughing a little at himself in the mirror.

“If you are.”

“Really really not ready,” Sirius laughed and entered their closet. He let out a groan. “I knew I was going to find this hot.”

“I am not,” Remus said. “Jeez, it’s ridiculous.” He turned this way and that, looking at his swede, fringed pants, cowboy boots, and wide brimmed hat. “The vest, too. Now you on the other hand…”

Sirius sent Remus a sheepish smile and looked down at his Captain America costume. “I was going for irony.”

“Nothing ironic about Canada’s ass.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was blushing as the doorbell rang downstairs.

Remus turned away from his reflection and looped his arms around Sirius’ neck for a hard kiss. “Show time, Captain.”

“Oh my god,” Remus heard Finn say over the kids’ halloween movie and the chatter from the kitchen as he swung the front door wide to his and Sirius’ house. “Oh my god, what is it with the PTs and the ref outfits? Remus, come look.”

Remus arrived in the entrance hall to Layla narrowing her eyes playfully—indeed dressed in an oversized referee shirt and cute, flared black jeans.

“We don’t get all the days off you guys do. Maybe its a lack of free time. Not to mention—” she rubbed her fingers together.

Finn laughed. “All right, point taken.”

“Come on in, Layla,” Remus said. “Ignore him.”

“Okay, cowboy,” Layla said, looking Remus up and down. “Damn.”

“Nothing for me?” Finn said, and spun in a slow, cocky circle, the black and yellow stripes of his costume, and his antennae bouncing.

Layla snorted, shaking her head. “What the hell are you?”

Finn looked offended. “I’m a bumble-bee. And Leo's the beekeeper, and Lo’s honey. Can’t miss him, he’s got a big, round foam honey jar on.”

“Ah,” Layla laughed. “Of course.”

“Come on,” Remus said. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Layla whistled as she followed him into the kitchen. “This house is huge.”

“Sirius bought it without a clue of what he wanted,” Remus said. “I’ve been trying to warm it up a bit.”

“It’s working,” Layla said, looking at the pictures that lined the walls. She pointed to the one of Sirius kissing Remus with the Cup. “God, I love this.”

Remus smiled, the memory flooding him with warmth. “Me, too.”

“Ooh,” Natalie, leaning back against Kasey’s chest, raised her glass to Remus. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

Remus fixed her with a wry look. “Are you going to say that every time I walk into a room?”

Natalie, sparkling in her finger-curls and 1920’s flapper dress, flashed a smile. “Yes.”

“She starts talking in an old Hollywood voice every time she sees me, so,” Kasey, looking broad in his old-fashioned suit, shrugged. “She’s not lying.”

Layla laughed. “I mean, I would, too, if I was dressed like that.”

Natalie grinned and walked over to loop her arm with Layla’s. “Let’s go see what movie the kids are watching now.”

“Yes,” Layla gasped. “Booze and Holloweentown.”

Remus watched the way Kasey looked after Natalie fondly as the girls disappeared.

“All good?” Remus asked, popping himself another beer.

“Hm?” Kasey looked up. “Oh, yeah. Just…looking. She’s leaving soon, for a couple weeks, to go see Alex.”

“That’s sweet. I’m sure he misses her.” Kasey came to lean against the counter beside him with a long sigh. “Sometimes it feels like all we do is miss each other.” He paused, biting his lip. “Do you…do you ever feel like you have everything you’ve ever wanted, but that you’d still change something? Like…like there are multiple versions of your life that include certain things and not others…but you’d still have everything you’d ever want?”

Remus’ smiled a little. “I…I think I’ve lived that. I lost hockey for a bit…but I got Sirius.”

Kasey smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Feel lucky you feel that way,” Remus said. “I’m not sure its as common as we think.”

“Speaking of,” Kasey said. “Where’s your everything-you’ve-ever-wanted?”

Remus laughed loudly. “Uh, hmm.” He looked around, not actually sure of the last time he saw Sirius. “I don’t know. You’d think I’d remember the last time I saw those spandex.”

Kasey laughed too. “I’d think so.”

Remus pushed up. “I’ll find him.”

“Let him know dinner’s soon!” Sergei called from the back door. It let cool air in from where he was checking on the ribs, Celeste beside him with a martini, seemingly inspecting his BBQ sauce.

Remus watched Sergei wave her off, claiming it was secret, before turning up the stairs. He thought for a moment before turning towards their bedroom and smiled to himself when he saw the door was clicked open.

“I thought I might find you up here,” Remus said, setting his cup down. He looked around the small room. The shelves were empty of stray photographs now. Remus had hung them up all around the house as a surprise, and Sirius had come home one day to a hallway, living room, and kitchen full of them.

Sirius looked up from where he was sitting on the bed—just where he’d been sitting that night, one year ago. He’d left his shield somewhere—no doubt with Adele—and was turning a beer slowly between his palms.

“Just thinking,” Sirius said, then motioned down at the bed. “Sit with me?”

Remus settled close to him, and Sirius turned to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “How’s the party?”

“Good,” Remus nodded. “Kids are watching a movie. Apparently Nat’s going to visit Alex. God, that’d be hard.”

Sirius hummed in agreement.

“Oh,” Remus laughed, remembering. “Layla showed up dressed as a ref.”

“No,” Sirius grinned. “God. I feel like I opened the door for you yesterday.”

“Mm. Sexy fireman.”

“Oh?” Sirius said, then took Remus’ drink from him and set them down on the floor.

“What?” Remus asked, only for Sirius to flop back on the bed, pulling Remus with him.

“My hat,” Remus said half-heartedly, watching it tumble off the side of the bed.

Sirius just made a noncommittal sound and turned on his side, pressing up on an elbow to lean over Remus. Remus reached up to twirl a strand of his dark hair around his finger. He’d left it loose, curling at his chin.

“Captain Québécois,” Remus said and Sirius just rested a hand against his chest.

“A lot has happened in a year,” he whispered, the room dim around them and the laughter filtering up from downstairs. “Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other forever?”

Sirius had said that before, but Remus loved it just the same.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I’d take one more forever, too,” Remus said.

Sirius leaned down for a quick kiss. “Me too.”

Remus reached into the tight material of Sirius’ costume for his 12 pendant, studying it in the dim light. He’d almost kissed Sirius right in this spot one year ago tonight. He’d felt so confident about it, about loving who he wanted to love, about that person being Sirius. He still felt that way, and he wished he felt the same now, in the rest of his life, on the team.

“Can I say something?” Sirius said.

“Hm?”

“Opening night,” Sirius said. “You said sorry.”

Remus flushed. “I know.”

Sirius cupped a palm against Remus’ cheek. “Re.”

“That’s not—that’s not really what I meant,” Remus said, eyes on the twelve. “We don’t really have to talk about it now, we should probably go back down. Sergei said to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” Remus tried for a smile. “He won’t share his secret sauce with Celeste.”

Sirius tilted his head, expression flickering as Remus pressed a lingering kiss to Sirius’ mouth and sat up, picking up his drink.

“Should we go down?” Remus said it in one breath, holding out his hand. “Logan’s wearing a giant honeypot and I really need a picture.”

Sirius locked their fingers together, concern still lacing his features even as he smiled. “I’ll sneak one. I’ll hand him Katie. He can never resist her.”

Remus laughed as they walked down the stairs hand in hand. “That’s true.”

Sirius pulled him back with a gentle tug before on the landing before they could rejoin the team.

“We don’t have to talk about it. And I know these games have been rough,” Sirius said, and Remus bit his lip as he looked up at him. “But I’m so proud of you. And I love you.”

Remus couldn’t help but lean back into his chest. I feel like I’m letting you down. The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t quite force them out. I feel like I’m letting all of you down.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Remus said, and despite his thoughts, his smile was real as Sirius kissed him and led him back to their family.

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giftwrappingpaper · 4 years ago

Text

wangxian bakery au

prompt: "I'd love to enable a creator to write/draw that self-indulgent niche workplace AU they've always wanted to make."

Lan Zhan finds Wei Ying baking bread in the kitchen of a hole-in-the-wall bakery in Yiling.

-----

A low, all too familiar voice hesitantly calls his name. "Wei Ying?"

No fucking way. Wei Ying looks up, raised eyebrows wrinkling his flour-dusted forehead. Yep, that’s Lan Zhan alright; no matter how many years pass, Wei Ying could recognize that face anywhere. His sharp, meticulously perfect appearance makes him look like a high-fashion magazine model cutout slapped on a stock photo of yellowed plaster and secondhand baking equipment.

“No customers in the back,” Wei Ying advises before returning his attention to the dough in his hands. A picture of informality, with a small smirk playing on his lips — a half-hearted attempt to conceal the shock and surmounting panic bubbling in his gut.

How the hell did he find me? one side of his brain despairs, while the other side reassures that at least it isn’t Jiang Cheng.

Lan Zhan continues his stalwart breach of Burial Bakery’s kitchen. What a rebel. “Wei Ying,” he says again.

“That’s me.”

“You’re here.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re in a...bakery. Baking.”

Wei Ying breathed in the calming smell of fresh sourdough and tangy levain. Thank the heavens he had been able to convince Wen Ning to take a lunch break, leaving Wei Ying to man the kitchen alone. This isn’t going to be pretty.

“That’s kinda what we do here, yeah,” he says, eyes trained on his workbench, crowded with floured bannetons and formless lumps of dough. “A helping hand would be nice. I’d appreciate that much more than the gawking.”

Lan Zhan blinks, jawing clenching and ears flushing. Wei Ying’s smirk lifts into something softer. Even after all this time, it’s still so easy to rile him up.

“How’d you even find me, anyway?” he wonders, stretching his dough flat against the workbench, stopping right when it’s about to rip. Gently, of course. Wouldn’t want to pop the gas built up after hours of proofing.

“The back door is open,” Lan Zhan answers faintly. His expression mirrors the face of a guy after finding a years-long missing sock long since chalked off as having been eaten by the dryer. “I saw you from the counter.”

A quick glance to the entrance confirms this. Wen Ning must’ve forgotten to close the door when he left. Damn, that’s no good. Can’t let the cold air flow in. Might mess with the dough proofing in the walk-in.

“Could you close that for me?” Wei Ying asks, briefly letting go of the dough to rub the back of his neck. When Lan Zhan continues to stand there, motionless like a beautiful, bewildered statue, Wei Ying tsks and says, “I’m not going anywhere, Lan Zhan. Gotta get yesterday's proofed loaves in the oven by the hour.”

Miraculously, Lan Zhan obeys. Wei Ying half expected him not to. He and Lan Zhan have never been the closest of friends; Wei Ying was an annoying student, and Lan Zhan has a zero tolerance for annoying classmates. But people can change, he supposes. It’s been over four years, and neither of them are the same people they were before Wei Ying packed up his things and gave up his cushioned life in the Jiang estate and his scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in the country to start slumming it with the Wen siblings and A-Yuan in their closet of an apartment.

“Aw, thanks,” Wei Ying says when Lan Zhan returns. He belatedly realizes that he should’ve asked Lan Zhan to close the door behind him as he leaves the kitchen that he, as a non-employee, isn’t supposed to be in. Oh well; Wen Qing can chew him out for all the health codes he’s violating later. Isn’t she supposed to be manning the front? Lan Zhan must have snuck past her to get here, so she’s just as guilty.

“So you’ve been here the whole time?” Lan Zhan says, watching Wei Ying shape the dough. “Since you — left?”

“Basically.” Stitch the dough into itself. Then fold and tuck. Push the dough underneath itself with the palm of your hands to create surface tension, giving the newly formed loaf that tight, professional finish. Took Wei Ying ages to get the method down pat enough to be consistent. “Wanted to get out of the Jiangs’ hair, so I left soon after dropping out of uni.”

Dust the loaf with rice flour. Place it into a banneton, seam side up. Into the rack, then repeat. “A friend of mine had just inherited their family bakery. I volunteered to help out, and it eventually ended up becoming a full-time thing.”

Lan Zhan stands there without a word — not that Wei Ying minds. He hadn’t let himself dream they’d see each other again, hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up that he'd be lucky enough to see a familiar face again after all this time. Damn, he thinks, sneaking glance after glance between the loaves he’s shaping, he’s more handsome now than ever. Who knew the gorgeous teenager he’d harassed throughout two years of university would turn out to become a gorgeous adult who somehow stumbles into Wei Ying’s bakery? Even the unflattering cast of the yellow, flickering overhead light Wen Qing had been meaning to replace can’t wash out how black Lan Zhan’s hair is, how his skin is as smooth as a baby’s. How golden his eyes are, peering at Wei Ying as if he’s the sunrise after a long, cloudy night.

Bah. Where the hell did that come from? Maybe Wei Ying really is as self-centered as Aunt Yu claimed him to be.

“I wasn’t aware of your...baking aspirations,” Lan Zhan says, causing Wei Ying to choke out a laugh. He’d forgotten how funny Lan Zhan could be.

“Me neither,” Wei Ying admits. He sidesteps the kitchen mixer he’d spent the last year fixing up — he’d bought it in a sorry state, but Hobart engines are built to last a lifetime, and he couldn’t pass up the deal he paid for — to place another filled banneton into the rack. “But I’m not too mad at where I’ve ended up. Speaking of. How did you end up here?”

Lan Zhan's shoulders hunch suspiciously, and Wei Ying's eyebrows arch into fucking parabolas. “I wanted bread,” Lan Zhan replies defensively. “So I went to a bakery.”

Wei Ying scoffs, unimpressed. “A bakery all the way in Yiling?”

Lan Zhan glances away. “I travel a lot for work.”

Fine — he’ll let it go for now. “Well, as long as you don’t tell anyone back home about this, I guess it’s fine.” Wei Ying pauses. “You’re not gonna rat me out, are you?”

The thought should scare him, but a traitorously large part of him thrills at it instead. The Jiangs' are a key food supplier for the Lans' hotel chain, so Lan Zhan has to have some form of communication with them. Does Jiejie think about him from time to time? And Jiang Cheng...well. They’re still brothers, aren't they? Surely he must, at some small capacity, miss him.

But no brotherly love, whatever left there may be, could erase this: the cold silence that hung over the Jiang family table whenever Wei Ying would show up for dinner. Aunt Yu’s constant disapproval and Jiang Cheng’s wavering willingness to put up with it. The car ride. The screech of metal. The hospital said their Range Rover flipped four times. Wei Ying must have passed out after the first. But he was lucky: only a broken arm and whiplash. He had lied about being too hurt to attend the funeral.

It had been a good decision to leave. It had to be.

The back of his neck stings; a constant reminder. He hangs his head low as he stitches the dough.

“I’m not going to...rat you out,” Lan Zhan denies. He’s closer than he’d been since the last time Wei Ying looked up, his slack-clad hip brushing against the corner of Wei Ying’s workbench. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t. Thanks.” Another banneton in the rack. Slower output than usual. He’s going to have to speed up to reach today’s quota. He gestures to the door. “Now, if you’re not gonna help out…”

Lan Zhan doesn’t take the hint. “You left. Without saying goodbye.”

“Must’ve forgotten to leave a note,” Wei Ying says, nonplussed.

“No one knew where you had gone off to.”

“Kinda preferred it that way.”

“But I didn’t —” Lan Zhan stops. Takes a breath. This is the most emotional Wei Ying has ever seen him, if mildly discomfited could constitute as emotional.

When he meets Wei Ying’s eyes again, his face is in its usual state of aloofness. “I was worried about you,” he tells him. “I wish I had known that you were alright.”

A block of guilt presses on Wei Ying’s shoulders. “Oh,” he says. “Sorry.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Don’t apologize.”

“It’s just — with all that happened with the, the accident, and the handling of the estate —”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me you’re not comfortable with.”

“And my relationship with Jiang Cheng was down the fucking gutter —”

“He misses you.”

“I just felt that it everything would’ve been better off if —”

“I understand.”

“— I just left, y’know?”

At this, Lan Zhan frowns. “I fail to see how your sudden disappearance made anything better,” he says.

“Well, you weren’t there.” Wei Ying sighs, and what little fight he had to defend himself from the past drops to the floor. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

Lan Zhan bristles. “I didn’t mean to — that’s not why I’m here.”

Then why are you here? But Wei Ying is done playing this game. “Look, it’s really nice to see you again. But I kind of have a lot on my plate right now, so if you don’t mind.” This time, his gesture to the door is clear. Leave.

Of course Lan Zhan doesn’t leave; he’s always been so damn stubborn. After a beat, he walks over to the empty sink — Wei Ying prefers to wash the dishes as he goes — and washes his hands. Dries them. Rolls up the sleeves of his button up, revealing forearms Wei Ying can’t help but swallow at. Makes his way to Wei Ying’s side, staring down at the lumps of dough like how a runner glares at the bottom of her shoe after stepping on a pile of dogshit.

“Alright,” he says, “how do I do this?”

Wei Ying blinks. “What?” he asks, like an idiot.

Lan Zhan experimentally cups the nearest dough mound with his palms. It sticks to his hands as he lifts them, streaks of the stuff already clinging to his slender fingers.

“Gross,” he says, monotone, pinching two ends to stretch it; an imitation, Wei Ying realizes, of his own technique.

Wei Ying stares. An incredulous smile spreads across his lips. “You’re —” He laughs. “You’re so weird, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan squints at him, confused, hands still making a mess out of the dough. “You asked for my help.”

Perhaps all those years away from home was enough penance for, at the very least, this. “Yeah," he says, soft. "I guess I did.” Wei Ying sways closer to Lan Zhan’s side. He discreetly sniffs the air in a selfish bid to find...ah, there it is, masked between notes of wheat flour and sourdough starter: sandalwood aftershave, brushing past Wei Ying's nose when Lan Zhan turns to him with an expectant glance.

Wei Ying laughs again. “No, not like that. Like this.”

He lays a floured hand over Lan Zhan’s and, together, they get to work.

-----

also posted on ao3

promo post on twitter

fic commissions

#mdzs #wangxian #cql #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs fic #cql fic #mo dao zu shi #myfic

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yacoka · 4 years ago

Text

FIFTY FIRST DATES, AND THE FIRST REAL ONE

──⊱ for my one and only, wee to my woo, love of my life — @doughnuts-5ever

pairing — kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre — angst but it ends very fluffily i swear on my doggie socks

beta(s) — @sugasugawarau @taiyaki

kisses — hello i am,,, not back,, but here's a little thing that i did for my cow and it might as well be a valentine's day fic bc why not xoxo see y'all in a few days (psps sorry to everyone to has messaged me on discord or here or anything, i haven't been on tumblr or discord in a bit i'll be back sOON)

You sat at the dinner table, staring down at the meal laid out before you. It was by far the best thing you had ever tasted, and yet, it was bland. So, so bland and bitter, that you hated it. Nevermind that it was your favorite dish made by your mother the other day, nevermind that you always loved it better as leftovers. It tasted bland and bitter, and you couldn’t help but wish what he was eating tonight was too.

It was pathetically selfish of you - you knew. But how could you not feel that way when the man you loved was out on a date with some stranger he met on the internet? He had left the house in a burgundy button up that looked like it was made for him, paired with black slacks that made him look like it should be illegal for him to be out in the streets without a warning sign.

It was his first attempt at online dating after having miserably failed at picking up girls from school. And now here he was, out with some chick with a name you could barely pronounce, and the stereotypical description of her bubbly personality that loved nature and volunteered at the animal shelter. Oh, and lets not forget, she’s a gemini!

You rolled your eyes, stabbing your fork into the now cold dish. Stupid boy, with his stupid date, with that stupid red shirt, and with his stupid personality.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s what you were for falling in love with a boy who never saw you for more than another pity project, the pathetic little thing that needed friends but never had any guts to make one until he came along.

You picked up the container of food and stalked over to the bin, dropping its contents into it. You weren’t going to eat it anyways, especially not after how you had massacred it.

After you left the dirty container in the sink, you flopped onto the couch, sighing heavily as you sank into the worn sofa. It smelled like Kuroo’s body soap, though from the amount of time he’s spent lying on this couch, it was to be expected.

You leaned forward, hand outstretched for the remote. Just a little further, a little more-

The door slammed open and you lurched forward, landing on the ground with a thud.

“It was horrible. She came into the restaurant and she looked amazing, but then we started talking and oh god, I don’t think I can be with someone who thinks that only the rich should be allowed to do whatever they want just because they’re rich.”

“Well hello to you too, Kuroo,” you grumbled from your spot on the floor, flipping yourself over to face the ceiling.

He jumped over the sofa arm, landing perfectly on it like he always does.

“I mean, how can I accept that? That’s just morally wrong and if her basic morals are wrong, what about other more important things? I walked out right after that, that doesn’t make me an asshole right?” His head popped out, brown eyes staring down at you. The cologne he wore tonight drifted down, washing over you and clouding your mind with its deliciously warm and thick and-

“I mean I did pay for the meal before I left,” he mutters, dropping his head onto the cushion, voice muffled slightly by it. “So it counters the fact that I left, right?”

The sigh that begs to pull its way out is caught by you, stuffed into the depths of your stomach in exchange for a soft pat on his head and words you know he wants to hear.

“No, you’re not an asshole. Maybe that was an asshole move, but that doesn’t make you one. Besides, her lack of a moral compass cancels out any asshole you might’ve been.” You combed through his hair, drawing it out of the careful style he had forced his bed head into. “This hairstyle though? It makes you look like an extreme asshole.”

Kuroo scoffed indignantly and his head popped back over the edge once more, brown eyes glaring at you. “I worked hard on this!”

“Doesn’t make you look any less of an ass.”

“The date was incredible.” He sighed dreamily, leaning against the counter with his chin in his hand. The temptation to throw your fork at him increased, and it took every sane cell in your body to set it down on the table instead, albeit rougher than you intended.

If Kuroo noticed your intensity, he didn’t mention it, instead continuing on to sigh and gush about the wonderful date he had last night with this amazing woman at this delicious place.

For someone who was incredibly perceptive, he could be incredibly dense as well. You wonder at his obliviousness to your feelings, to the poorly concealed hurt that peeked through in every little move of your body.

All you wanted to do was scream at him, to wake up, open his eyes, and see you.

You, who had been there since the beginning, who had watched him grow from the shy, introverted kid to this cunning, charismatic man who excelled and went beyond what had been expected of him. You, who had seen him at his worst, and still stayed, patching him up and helping him to his feet. You, who knew who he was to the core, every detail, every fact about him.

But it seemed he didn’t know you as well.

“That’s great,” you interrupt him. He glanced at you, surprised by your abruptness. “I gotta go get some work done, I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning.”

“Wait, did I do something wrong?” He called after your retreating back. “Hey, I’m sorry if I pissed you off.”

“No, it’s nothing!” You slammed the door shut, slumping against it. God, you were a fool to have fallen for an idiot. Dashing away the burning tears that slip down your cheeks, you gathered just enough strength to crawl beneath onto your bed and beneath the covers.

The cat plushie he got you a long time ago sits at the bottom of your bed, staring at you. You glared at it, before giving in and grabbing it, tucking it into your chest. Stupid Kuroo with his stupid face and this stupid cat. You hate him so much.

(No, you don’t, you really don’t. And it hurts so much more to know that.)

You’re back here once more, glaring daggers at the clock. The slow ticking of the hands pisses you off, every second gone is a second more Kuroo’s out there, with another girl, on another date. With the number of bad first dates he’s gone one, you’d think he’d give up. But no, this man was persistent, and he wanted to “experience life!”

Well, he was going to experience death soon if he didn’t come back home soon. Your vigil continued, all the way till three am where you gave up and went to bed, your exhaustion outweighing your annoyance and worry. He’s a grown man, there was no need to worry about him.

Honestly, you didn’t know how you got here. To this suffocating silence that rested upon your chest, pinning you down as you listened to the sounds of cars rushing past and the occasional laughter that seeped through the walls. To where you spent your nights alone in your shared apartment, waiting for Kuroo to come home from yet another date. Like some married person waiting on their cheating husband, you smiled bitterly at the ceiling.

Only you weren’t married to him, and you certainly weren't his anything.

If only you were less of a fool, you might’ve moved on long ago. Maybe you might have even found someone who might be just as in love with you as you were with them. You might have already been in a happy relationship, going out on dates, spending your nights with them, being loved. But you were a fool, a fool in love with another fool.

So you continued to lie there, the infinite weight of your one-sided love pressing you into the ground, holding you prisoner to Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Hey, do you wanna go get dinner?” Kuroo called out. “There’s nothing left in the fridge, maybe we could get groceries after.”

You ignored him, focusing on the dimly lit screen of your phone. There hadn't been a proper conversation with him in a while, and you were content to leave it that way if only it meant you didn’t have to hear about his dates with those seemingly perfect women and their seemingly perfect food.

Kuroo called out once more, and you burrowed beneath the blanket, curling up into a ball.

No, you did not want to get dinner with the man you’re so desperately in love with it almost hurts to even breathe in his presence.

The door creaked open, and you could see his shadow stretch out across your bedroom floor, casting its shape upon your walls. It took everything in you to tear your eyes away from it and back onto your phone, though it lingered in your peripheral, taunting you with the way it twisted and leaned closer to you, the scent of his cologne growing stronger by the second, until it almost felt like he wa-

“Why are you ignoring me?” Kuroo whined into your ear as he draped his body over yours, strands of inky hair tickling your cheek.

“Ku-roo-” you gasped out, fighting to twist your body out from under him. “Can’t- bre-breathe.”

He groaned into your ear, dropping even more pressure down. “Don’t care, you ignored me.” He sulked as he burrowed his head into the crook of your neck.

A blind kick to his legs has him flopping off you, spread eagle on your too tiny bed.

“You’re too heavy to be pulling this crap,” you snapped at him.

“And you’re too old to be ignoring me when something’s wrong,” he shot back just as fast, and you were left stunned. To be fair, you should have expected it, Kuroo being one of the most perceptive people you’ve ever met.

(Not perceptive enough to see the deep feelings you harbored for him though.)

“So what’s wrong?”

‘Everything,’ you wanted to scream. ‘You, those stupid dates, my feelings, every god damned thing on earth.’

Instead, what came out was: “I’m just stressed. Work, you know?” You shot him an unconvincing smile.

Kuroo frowned, his lips pinching as he stared at you. He knew better than to push you though, and settled with a curt nod, a forced smile slipping onto his face. “So…. dinner?”

You sighed in exasperation, and let him yank you up and out of bed. The way his stiff smile melted into an easy, fond one was enough to wash away your hesitance, and temporarily dam up the river of doubts that threatened to drown you.

Just for tonight, you’ll enjoy his presence, before he gets caught up in another’s embrace.

(You let yourself get swept up in him again, chasing after the ebb of his warmth when his encompassing presence surges away from you. But you find that you don’t really mind drowning in him, not when the peak of the surf reveals such beautiful sights in the form of lazy smirks and sly hazel eyes.)

It’s another failed date that sends him home in a fitted suit, one that you had turned your nose up at. Kuroo doesn’t understand what’s going wrong, why he never felt like the date was right. The people he had gone on dates with were nothing short of amazing, with the exception of a few. But they just lacked… something. And so he always leaves them with a grateful goodbye and an apologetic smile, returning home to the apartment he shared with you alone.

He’s spent nights and days trying to convince himself that they were an ideal candidate to date, listing out their positive notes to you, and somehow he can’t seem to find the thing that made him just click with them. It’s bordering on frustrating, really, and Kuroo is more than ready to relieve some of the building tension in his body by hanging out with you.

His entrance home is muffled by the sounds of music blasting through the apartment, and it’s a wonder the neighbours haven’t complained yet. He’s about to call out for you as he drops keys on the coffee table, one hand loosening his tie when he catches sight of you dancing in the kitchen.

And everything clicks in place.

It’s a stunning clarity that leaves him reeling, and he wonders how he could have missed it in the first place. It’s a simple truth: Kuroo Tetsurou was completely, utterly, irrevocably in love with you. And it only took him fifty bad first dates to realize that the only person he wanted to go on a date with was you.

Objectively speaking, you look like a complete mess, but to him, the sight of you twirling around in sock clad feet in an oversized shirt with a lame chemistry joke printed across it was infinitely better than any of the people he had gone on dates with. You’re absolutely perfect to him, yelling out lyrics to a song that’s blasting at full volume from the living room.

There isn’t a moment’s hesitation as he surges forward, a force tugging him to you. And like just like two opposing magnets, you spin around just in time for him to collide into you, his head hazy as his mouth crashes down upon yours.

You taste of leftover pizza and something sweet, and he thinks it might be the best damn thing he’s ever tasted. The shocked gasp that escapes you is swallowed by Kuroo as he deepens the kiss, arms winding around you to pull you impossibly closer. And he isn’t sure why he’s so surprised when you reciprocate the kiss, melting into him as your hands grip the lapels of his blazer.

It feels like an eternity spent wrapped around each other, the beat of the music matching the rhythm of your hearts, and the warmth of each other.

Kuroo pulls away first, only because rationality comes sinking back into his muddled brain, and there’s a brief moment of panic when he stares down at your flushed face, lips swollen from his sudden attack. But the absolute relief and love in your eyes has him calming down, and the soft peck you deliver next settles those doubts.

“It’s been you all this while,” his voice cracks, and he winces. “You’re my best friend, and I’m in love with you.”

The smile that breaks out across your face is everything he’s been looking for, and he feels like a fool for being so blind. You’re everything he’s wanted, and everything he’s needed.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeats louder, an incredulous laugh bubbling out of him. “I’m in love with you!”

“I’m in love with you too!” You yell back, and in his excitement, he can’t help but twirl you around, and you burst into giggles. There isn’t a better sound in the world than this, he thinks.

“Be mine.” He catches you by the shoulders, face alight with adoration.

“I’ve been yours for a long time now.” Your answer fills him with a rush of delight and guilt, and he’s ready to spill apologies and promises to make it up to you when you yank on his tie hard, pulling him into another kiss. Every unspoken word, every drop of emotion that has ever begged to be exchanged between you two is said with a simple kiss.

Kuroo thanks the heavens for you, for blessing his life with someone who is more than he deserves. The weight of you in his arms is a comforting pressure, and there he has his last first date, at the beginning of a new chapter in the story of him and you, eating leftovers and dancing to songs of your childhood.

He’s in love with you, and you are with him too.

#kuroo testsuro #kuroo x reader #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

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et-lesailes · 5 years ago

Text

spreading the sugar | pt 2

PART ONE

pairing: sugar daddy!andy & ransom (twins) x reader

word count: 1545

summary: having andy barber as a sugar daddy has been nothing but a good time. little do you know that meeting his twin brother will change everything.

themes: age gap, smut

taglist: @evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @denisemarieangelina, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @savemesteeb, @raveviolet, @hurricanerinwrites, @captainamerica-is-bae, @shaddixlife, @tessa-bl, @marvelouspottering, @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc, @thegetawaywriter, @dwights-new-plague, @rynabarnesrogers, @fckdeusername, @doloreschanal, @ssworldofsw, @la-cey, @buckybarnesplumwhore

notes: sorry it’s a day late! please feel free to give some feedback :) graphic creds to @thewritingdoll !

It’s your naughty self that makes Ransom’s plan go along much more smoothly. For the next couple days, he has the surveillance pulled up on his television, bored out of his mind simply watching his brother sit at his desk doing paperwork and making phone calls whenever he’s in the office. Most of the time, no one’s there at all, considering Andy is often in court or at other appointments.

And then three days later, he finally hits the jackpot.

You walk into Andy’s office, dressed in a stylish and form fitting Michael Kors peacoat paired with knee high black socks with lace on the hems, an innocent smile on your face. It’s the middle of the day, and this is probably your boldest move yet, but you’re too excited. He’s been working on a serious case for the past few days, and you’ve barely gotten to spend much time with him. You know he’ll want this just as much as you.

“Y/N?” He looks up in surprise, quickly standing up and going over to the door to close it. “Ya gotta be careful coming here so early, honey, there’s still a lot of people around…”

“So? Just tell them I’m a college student, asking for an internship.” You watch as he peers out the glass window before drawing the blinds so no one can look in. “Fair enough, but still. If Laurie finds out about this, it just… it’s going to be a whole lot of drama, especially if Jacob gets involved. Plus I don’t want you getting any shit for it.” You sigh in amusement, suddenly taking hold of his tie and pulling him closer to you. “You’ve been so stressed out these days, Daddy. Can I please just help you… relax a little?” you whisper, moving your hands to the buttons of your coat and slowly undoing them. He blinks in surprise, now a bit distracted from his previous concerns as he stares at the lacy little piece you’re wearing underneath, mouth hanging open slightly.

“Is that a yes?” you tease, taking the coat off entirely and draping it over the nearest chair. He scoffs and pulls you closer to him, immediately kissing you roughly as his hands explore every inch of the thin material, a low groan sounding from his throat. “That’s a fuck yes, baby doll, but we need to hurry. I have a meeting in half an hour.”

Miles away in his lavish home, Ransom checks in on the app on his phone. His eyes immediately light up wickedly upon the view displayed on the screen. He whistles lowly as he leans back in his leather armchair, watching you bend over Andy’s desk with your butt wiggling proudly for him, your hand reaching back to move the bottoms out of the way so he can fuck you from behind.

He watches every movement, whether it be your hips slammed forward from the force or your head tilting back as Andy pulls your hair. His hand moves to wrap around your neck, making Ransom laugh slightly, even impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you,” he mumbles, watching as the action makes you whimper in pleasure, even coughing slightly. He allows himself to take in every single part of your scantily clad body, already thinking of everything he’s going to do to it. How it’s going to feel squirming under his powerful hands when you cum for him. How you’ll be screaming his name so loud, the entire neighborhood will hear it.

He barely even realizes he’s been palming his crotch, his eyes hungrily glued to you. Unbuckling his expensive belt and pushing down his jeans and briefs, he wraps his fingers around his shaft and starts pumping, groaning to himself as he envisions his cock balls deep inside you, his breaths heavy from arousal and need. His hand may have to suffice for now, but soon, he knows it’s going to be your tight body he’s fucking nice and hard until you’re sore.

Meanwhile, you’re catching your breath as you straighten up again, adjusting your lingerie. Andy smirks breathlessly as he pulls his pants back up, running his fingers through his brown hair. “Fuck. Wish I could just keep you in the office, honey.” He turns you around to face him and kisses you slowly but intensely. You practically feel giddy as you kiss him back; you love pleasing him. “Mm. It’s okay, Daddy, we have way more fun at home.” You point out playfully, and he chuckles lowly before reaching over and picking up the coat. Putting it over your shoulders and buttoning it up as if you were a child, he leans in and pecks your cheek. “Go ahead home, baby girl. I’ll still be here for a while, but why don’t I pick you up and take you out for dinner later, hm? Wherever you want to go.”

“Okay.” You agree with a cute smile, picking up your bag. “See ya later, babe.” You smooth out your hair and walk out of the room, smiling nonchalantly at the people who have been sitting in their cubicles on the other side of the closed blinds. You look completely normal and professional with your expensive coat, it’s as if you really were there inquiring about an internship.

Little do you know that all of these people could easily find out that that’s not what you were there for at all.

It’s safe to say that Andy’s in a horrible mood, and for good reason.

After waking up to a very disturbing email from his own brother, he immediately got dressed and left the house, hopping into his Audi and driving off. He didn’t even reply to any of your texts. He was and still is far too stressed, and besides, if he murders his shithole of a brother, he doesn’t want you around as a witness.

He pulls up in the driveway, tempted to crash into that annoying, shiny BMW glistening under the morning sun. He slams the door upon getting out, storming up to the front door and pounding on the door loudly, hoping he wakes the bastard up. “Ransom! Get the fuck down here, right now!” he yells loudly, nothing but anger in his thickly Boston accented words.

Of course, the trust fund playboy takes his time, even having the nerve to open the door with a casual yawn as he stretches his arms over his head, simply wearing a lush sherpa robe that probably cost hundreds of dollars. “Wow. You’ve never been so eager to see me before, Andy. Maybe I should blackmail you more often.”

The assistant district attorney grabs his brother by the plush collar of his robe, fists clenched tightly as he hisses, “I’m not fucking doing this with you, Ransom. Delete that video right now, I can easily get you in trouble for planting that fucking camera in my office- you know that, right?”

Ransom flinches in surprise for a second as his hands fly up to grab his brother’s wrists, his features slightly strained from practically being choked- and yet he still manages to chuckle darkly, teeth grit. “Would that be before or after I send that nice little video of you fucking your little sugar baby slut to Laurie and your entire workplace?” He suddenly opens his mouth in a mocking ‘o’, continuing, “Can you imagine what Jacob would feel watching this?”

“Do not bring my fucking son into this!” Andy’s voice raises even louder as he lifts his hand, about to punch the everloving shit out of his twin, but Ransom is quick to block himself, grunting as he grabs the other’s wrist tightly. “Please, don’t waste my fucking time,” he breathes out somewhat labored, his chest heaving slightly. “Beating me up isn’t going to do shit except encourage your little aggression problem. Does Y/N know anything about that, by the way?”

Andy pauses, staring at the other incredulously, so angry that the vein in his neck is bulging. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, using his grip to shove Ransom roughly into the door. “Why are you doing this? I know you’re a fucking asshole, but isn’t this going too far? What the hell do you have against me?”

He grunts slightly upon hitting the door but sighs amused, smoothing out his robe as he stands straight again. “Goodness gracious, Andy, you’re really overthinking this. All I want to do is fuck the little minx, and I knew you wouldn’t exactly agree to that. So��” he trails off with a shrug, smirking. “Now don’t worry, I’ll give you time to talk to her about it first- but not too long. Otherwise that video gets-”

“It has to be the three of us.”

Ransom blinks. “Excuse me?”

Andy looks at him firmly, ocean eyes still practically on fire. “I can’t trust you alone with her. No one can be trusted alone with you. So if you’re doing this, I’m there too.”

Ransom looks at him for a few moments before slowly snickering, shrugging again with nothing but amusement in his features.

“Whatever you say, Andy. Just try not to get too jealous when she’s screaming my name louder than yours.”

PART THREE (FINAL)

#andy barber x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #andy barber smut #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale imagine

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logan-please-smile-speaks · 4 years ago

Note

[Long, Tw food (in depth descriptions), brief references to unnamed heavenly beings of no specified religion, brief reference to hell. Not really any angst. Just good Dadza.]

[Hurt/comfort my beloved]

Me: i can't write

Also me: writes an entire fic by accident while telling my friend about an idea I had

(I'm gonna need this ask back at some point so don't keep it too long, okay? But make sure to take care of yourself (unlike Techno sksksks))

(How many words is this) (Cenn I've been writing this for like 3-4 hours. I've been hyperfixating on this)

-@2ble

I had this really cute idea where Techno gets sick after doomsday and Dadza takes care of him (for an animatic, or? How should i draw techno?)

Phil's Dadza side kicks in. He gently pushes Techno, who is in full garb back into bed. "Techno, you're sick. You can't go."

"But I haven't streamed in 2 weeks!"

"Rest."

Techno turns on his side in bed. Dadza gently pulls the blankets up and tucks them around Techno. Techno begins to cough, and the coughs rack his body. Dadza's expression is soft and concerned. He rubs his hand on Techno's back until he stops coughing. Techno closes his eyes. He's exhausted.

Dadza takes Techno's crown and places it on the bedside table.

He observes his ill friend. Techno is nothing like what he was up until Doomsday. He seemed--weak. Vulnerable. Sick.

"Have you had anything to eat, Techno?"

Techno doesn't open his eyes. He shakes his head. "I ran out of food a few days ago. I meant to get more but..." Techno doesn't want to admit that he couldn't get downstairs. He doesn't want to admit to weakness, to vulnerability. But everytime he thought of searching through chests, of trading with the villagers, they just seemed so far away.

Phil noticed a tear leaking out from Techno's eyelid. If he brushed it away, Techno would feel worse about his state because it would mean he was in fact vulnerable.

"I'll make you some stew."

Phil goes downstairs and tends to the fireplace. The fire seemed to have gone out sometime between now and the last time Phil checked on Techno.

How long has the house been this cold?

Phil builds up the fire and puts a cauldron over it. He makes mushroom stew because he doesn't know if techno can stomach rabbit stew.

When it's ready, he ladels it into a bowl and climbs the ladder.

Hanging off the ladder by one hand, he calls out. "Techno, stew's ready."

Techno's eyes flutter open. He sees his friend holding out a bowl of food and his eyes widen.

Phil notices that Techno is sweating and the blanket strewn to the side, only covering his feet.

"Are you too hot mate?" he asks.

Techno is broiling but he can't summon the strength to take off his outer clothes. His body refuses.

He's more focused on food. He's starving, and his body uses up what little resources it has left to sweat.

Phil walks over and puts the stew on the table. The heavenly aroma fills the room.

"Let's get this coat off of you." Phil reaches around Techno and unclasps the chain on his neck. He gently pulls the coat off of Techno's arm but he's still laying on it.

"Techno," Phil says.

"Whaaat," Techno drawls.

"You got to let me get this coat off ya mate."

Techno lets out a deep groan, then turns over on his stomach so his other arm is towards Phil.

Phil reaches under techno and grasps the coat. He pulls it out from under Techno and off his arm. The sleeve turns inside out. Phil fixes the sleeve and hangs up the coat.

Techno's shirt is drenched in sweat. He rolls over and starts fidddling with the button closest to his throat, looking up at Phil.

"Here, I'll get that for you." Phil undoes the button. He can't imagine how tired techno must've been after Doomsday, that he just collapsed in bed fully clothed, not even bothering to loosen them.

At least he took off his armor. Sh-t's heavy, he thinks. Phil ignores the fact that after the adrenaline and excitement wore off, the sore and tired Technoblade probably couldn't move with it on.

Phil pulls the blanket off the bed entirely, folds it, and places it on the table next to the stew. He pulls off Techno's shoes and socks and puts them near his coat.

They were also drenched with sweat, not to mention the smell--but it doesn't bother Phil all that much. He's smelled worse. He's frowns at the imprints on Techno's legs from the socks.

Phil loosens the rest of Techno's clothes. Techno seemed to were his tightest, least comfortable, most regal outfit to Doomsday.

Lucky for them both most of that was just accesories and pins, and Phil could easily remove those.

While Phil was doing this, Techno had been lying on his back, eyes closed. Though Techno tended to be stone-faced, Phil noticed the relief on Techno's face.

"How you feelin', Techno?"

"Philzaaa,"

"Yeah?"

Techno opens his eyes halfway, just enough to see Philza and the bottom of the bed.

"Do you have water?"

Phil procures a water bucket from his bag. "Thirsty mate?"

Techno looks at the water bucket and a small smile creeps over his face.

Phil smiles at his friend. He moves to the head of the bed and looped his arm and tattered wing around Techno and sits him up.

He holds the bucket up to Techno's mouth and tips it to his lips. Techno sips gratefully as the cool liquid pours over his hot, dry mouth and down his throat, cooling him from the inside.

"You've lost quite a bit of fluid, mate."

Techno lets some of the cold water slip out the sides of his mouth and drip down his face. His skin is boiling. The water dropelts running down his skin feel like heavenly beings allowing drops of mercy to fall upon him in the pit of hell.

Techno pulls back briefly to swallow and catch his breath and Phil rights the bucket. Techno leans in again for more water.

After drinking his fill, Techno leans back and wipes his mouth with his arm.

"All done, Techno?"

Techno swings his arms up knocks the bucket out of Phil's hand, dumping it on his head. The gush of water cools Techno, drenches the bed, and spills all over the room. Phil can't help but laugh. He picks up the bucket and scoops up the water source. He puts the bucket back in his bag.

"Had enough of the water?"

"Philza--I gotta be honest with you, Philza I haven't felt this good in weeks."

Phil laughs again even louder. The two friends are now in a good mood.

"Well now your stew is probably cold too." Phil tastes it. "Actually it's a bit warm still. Not too hot, either."

Techno scoots towards the wall and leans on it. He reaches for the bowl.

"Oh, no you don't."

"Phil, I'm a grown man-pig. I can hold a bowl."

"Maybe on a good day, Techno, but three minutes ago you couldn't sit up by yourself. No offense mate, but I don't think your arms have enough stamina right now. Now come on and eat."

Phil lifts the bowl to Techno's lips and lets him sip at his own pace. He pulls it back.

"How does it taste?"

"Pretty good but could maybe use a little salt."

"Eh, you probably need electrolytes as well after sweating through your clothes and drinking all that water."

Phil put the bowl on the downstairs counter.

Phil found salt in the downstairs chest and stirred it into the cauldron.

He heard the bowl fall to the floor behind him. It fell facedown and spilt on the floor.

Phil swore quietly.

He got a new bowl and more stew from the cauldron.

"How is it?" Techno inquired.

"Try for yourself," Phil said. He smiled as he held the bowl to Techno.

Techno looked at the bowl, then up at Phil. He took a sip.

Techno pulled back and looked at the bowl.

Phil thought he may have tainted the stew somehow. "Is it bad?" he started to say.

But he didn't quite get out anything after "Is" because Techno cut him off.

"It's delicious." Techno looked up at his friend. "Philza Minecraft, you should be a chef. This is the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted."

Phil chuckled. "All I did was add salt, what ya mean?"

"Phil, you have to sell this stew to the rest of the SMP. We could get rich!"

"Techno, I think the sickness may have gotten to your head a bit."

"Phil, I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life. We could be the the most powerful people on the server!"

"We already are. We just blew up a country. Down to bedrock."

"But we could get even more rich and powerful!"

"Well I'll be happy to listen after you eat. And rest. And bathe."

"I don't need to bathe."

"You're not getting out of it. You reek, mate."

"You can't judge me by the smell!"

"I'm not worried about the smell so much as what the smell tells me about your body. I don't know when the last time you washed was but it was definitely before Doomsday and I can't have you laying in your own sweat and filth for much longer. It's sh-t for your health, Techno."

"Philza--"

"Please just eat, Techno."

Techno leaned his head forward slightly and Phil pressed the bowl to Techno's lips.

Techno closed his eyes and savored the flavors. They were so pleasant, so soothing, so comforting. They reminded him of a time when he was safe and there was no betrayal. No war. No need for violence and bloodshed and destruction.

Phil, being a good Dadza friend, made sure that Techno ate an entire bowl. He brought Techno another bowl upon his request, of which he ate half, then left the other half bowl on the table in case Techno got hungry later.

After changing Techno's bed to clean, dry sheets and tucking his friend back into bed, he went downstairs to clean up the spill. He told Techno he would be back at sunrise to check on him. Though he might come earlier just in case. Sunrise was just the latest. Phil had decided that since Techno had gotten through the brunt of his hibernation and was now waking up sick, he should check on him at least twice a day.

Phil scrubbed the dried stew off the floor. He wondered what could've made Techno love it so much. Mere salt couldn't have made it so delicious, could it?

Phil finished cleaning the floor and the bowl and put everything away. As he was about to leave, he stopped. Eyes locked on the cauldron. There was something about it.

I can't leave that there, he reasoned. It will go to waste. If Techno like it, I can't let it waste or burn. I should freeze it outside.

Phil took out a bowl and knelt in front of the fire place. He scoop up big, full ladels into his bowl. Could it be that the soup was really that much better with something as basic as salt?

Phil dipped his finger in the bowl and sucked the stew off of it. He was instantly transported to his childhood. His mind played out feelings of safety, of healing, of comfort, of rest.

He heard his family laughing, remembered learning how to fly, the first time he soared high, feeling the wind beneath his wings. He remembered when Wilbur was born, holding the tiny baby in his arms, filled with love. "I'll always protect you. I'll always be there for you." When he met Techno, when he built the bee farm, and so on.

Phil was moved to tears. He felt loved. He felt like someone loved him no matter his flaws, his mistakes. Phil cried.

It was not out of pain but rather emotion. He wiped away his tears and drank the rest of the stew in his bowl, but it only caused more tears to stream down his face.

Techno was right.

Outside, watching through the window was the one who made the soup what it was. It wasn't Phil's salt.

He stood on his hind legs, paws pressed against the wall of the house.

He had been listening to the two friends talk, had been watching protectively as the wind ruffled his thick white fur.

He was Technoblade's guardian.

Soon he would be called Steve.

2ble this is literally amazing hello????

#ask #anon #under the 2ble #food mention #food tw #tw sickness #crying mention #technoblade #philza #philza minecraft #long post #steve the polar bear #fave tag

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fangirl-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Home Sick

70s!Roger x Reader x Ben

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of sex, Roger being a little shit

Notes: How does this universe work, you ask. Shhhh, I tell you, just let us live in fantasy land. Aka I watched BoRhap again and I'm a sucker for Rog and Ben. Also very inspired by @strangeandwonderfulconcepts ‘s versions of this couple. I feel like it’s kind of all over the place, though.

Summary: Ben's away for filming and you're left at home with Roger who's working on Queen's new album and annoying you.

“Roger Taylor, I swear to God!”

Ben bit his lip as a smile spread across his lips, trying not to laugh at your outburst. He was sat in his hotel room, phone pressed to his ear, enjoying the small amount of downtime he had before filming resumed the next day. “What’s he done now?”

“He keeps poking me in the ass with his drumsticks. Oh!” You (who was back at Roger’s mansion in Surrey) cried out again. “Roger I will throw this lamp at you!”

Ben heard Roger’s muffled reply in the background. He could picture the mischievous grin on his face.

“Oh, so the lamp’s important but that TV you threw out the window- it is not different!”

Ben couldn’t stop smiling. The bickering was a little childish and silly, but it warmed Ben’s heart to hear the two people he loved the most bicker about nothing.

“And put that damn cigarette out! You’ll burn the house down with that nasty habit.”

Ben could tell Roger was right next to you now as he said. “Ben thinks it’s sexy. Don’t you, Ben?”

“Yeah, well, Ben also thinks you look sexy in leopard print.”

“Hey!”

Ben couldn’t hold back his laughter now.

Both you and Roger were smiling at his laugh on the other end, playfully shoving each other to get closer to the phone so you could hear him.

You let out a squeal suddenly and Ben heard the crash of something that he assumed to be the lamp mentioned earlier. “Honestly!”

He could hear Roger laughing as he ran away. You’d obviously missed him with the lamp.

“God, Ben, I’ve got to go. Our boyfriend is being a pain in the ass and I’ve gotta kiss the brains outta him. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“’Course. Tell Rog, I love him.”

"Of course,”

“G’night, Y/N,” Ben said. “Love you.”

“We love you, too, Ben. Goodnight.”

You hung up and Ben sat there quietly for a moment, the phone still pressed to his ear as he remembered the sound of the laughter. God he missed them.

He’d worked on projects this long before but they’d always been right there in London where he could grab a taxi or have Roger come and pick him up at the end of the day. Now he was out of the country and he realized how much he took for granted the time he got to spend at home.

He assumed Y/N and Roger were accustomed to the situation. Roger was always gone on tour for months after they released a new album and Y/N sometimes had to travel for work, but Ben was always at home with one of them. Now he was the one branching off.

He set the phone on the nightstand and laid down in the white sheets of the hotel bed.

It felt odd, almost foreign to him; laying alone in a bed. Roger wasn’t there to snuggle his face into his neck or play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Y/N wasn’t there to spoon him or tangled their legs together. No playful fighting over the covers, no cold feet or wandering hands, no drumming of Roger’s fingers against his arm, no Y/N drawing shapes on his back. It was funny to think how much he’d grown accustomed to the feeling of not just one but two people (his two people) laying in bed with him.

He fell asleep with those thoughts and a longing ache in his chest.

Meanwhile, you were chasing Roger through the house, trying to take his drumsticks from him after he’d poked you in the ass one too many times. The two of you had just finished up doing...things and were enjoying a sweet moment until the drumsticks made a return.

Roger was laughing hysterically and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grinning from ear to ear.

You were clad in only Roger’s white button up, your underwear, and socks while Roger had opted to only return to his boxers.

Suddenly he was cornered in the kitchen and you jumped onto his back, reaching an arm over his shoulder for the sticks still clutched in his hand, but he’d stuck his own arm out over the countertop so you couldn’t reach them.

“Roger, give them here!”

“Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged!”

Roger burst into another fit of laughter and you giggled into his ear, still straining for the drumsticks.

You eventually gave up, dropping your hand and laying your head on Roger’s shoulder, breathing heavily as the laughter died down. He dropped the drumsticks on the counter and hooked his arms under your legs to help hold you up; a smile still on his lips and his cheeks sore from laughter.

You closed your eyes and it was silent for a few moments.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, lovie?” He asked softly.

“Thinking that Ben would’ve been filming or taking pictures of us if he’d have been here...”

Roger hummed in agreement, walking from the kitchen towards the lounge. “I miss him, too,”

You still had your eyes closed, trusting Roger to set you down gently wherever he was taking you. “I wish you weren’t working on the album so we could go see him.”

“Me too. The boys’ve been exhausting lately. I love ‘em, but there’s only so much you can take sometimes.”

“Well, three explosive personalities plus Deacy-”

“Hey, you haven’t seen Deaks mad. It’s scary.”

“Yeah, well, I try to stay on his good side unlike somebody I know who likes to push buttons.”

Roger rolled his eyes as he deposited you onto the couch. You laughed as you bounced off the cushons before laying down, Roger crawling on top of you and laying on your chest.

“We would not fit nearly as well on this couch with Ben,” You commented with a grin.

“Yeah, we’ve tried, though. One of us always ends up on the floor.”

“Or squooshed,”

“Or both,”

You both smile, an ache running through your chests.

“He’s been gone far too long.”

“Yeah, when’s his film ‘sposed to wrap anyway?”

“Not sure. Should ask him when he calls tomorrow.”

Roger groaned. “Tomorrow is so far away.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “Indeed it is,”

You fell into a comfortable silence after that. You putting Roger to sleep as you massaged his scalp and you lost in thought, staring at the ceiling.

“You think the boys might give you a few days off if I promise them you’ll be less grumpy when we get back?”

Roger looked up at you with a pout. “I am not grumpy.”

“You are too,” You said, a smile spreading across your face. “You miss Ben and when you miss one of us you get grumpy. Like that time on tour when you snapped a drumstick when you weren’t able to call us one night? Or when you busted a tambourine after we weren’t able to make it to the nearest show? Or when-”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m destructive.”

You laughed and Roger laid his head back down on your chest. “I suppose they might give that a go.”

“Then I’m calling Freddie,”

*** Ben woke up the next morning reaching out across the bed; searching for warmth that wouldn’t be there. He groaned, heart slightly heavy, as he shut off his alarm.

A shiver ran up his spine as he sat up and he cursed himself for not turning up the temperature before heading to bed. That had been the one advice Roger had given him before he departed. “When waking up alone in your hotel room, the temperature will always be colder than you want it. Check it before bed.”

He didn’t have time to dwell on his heartache before he had to gather his bearing and head to the set for his early shoots, but he missed Y/N’s good luck kisses and, oddly, Roger’s smack to his bottom before he would head out the door for a day of filming.

He shut the door to his hotel room and shook his head, trying to shake the homesick thoughts from his mind.

They wouldn’t do him any good anyway. It’s not like he’d be able to satisfy the ache.

Or so he thought.

***

You and Roger were currently sat on a plane, headed for Ben’s filming location.

Roger’s blonde hair was stuffed inside a cap and he had on a dark pair of sunglasses in an attempt to hide his identity. You’d asked him if he’d dye his hair black but he outright refused the offer.

“Love, I know you want this to be a surprise, but even if any paps or fans see us Ben hardly checks that stuff when he’s not filming. I doubt he’d bother while he is.”

You sat next to him, asleep, eyes closed with your sunglasses on, hair loose around your face, and the hood of your jumper pulled up on your head. Your earbuds playing your favorite music.

It was an early flight and you’d been up most of the night preparing for this spur of the moment trip. You wanted everything to be perfect.

“I can sleep on the plane,” You’d told Roger.

And you did.

Roger laid his head on top of yours as you dozed on his shoulder, a book held between his fingers to pass the time, but, truthfully, he couldn’t focus on it. For some reason he had a lot on his mind.

The three of you hadn’t gone public with your relationship, but the paps had taken notice of Roger’s “mysterious lovers” and Ben and Roger had been seen talking at a party a few times, heaven forbid, but Roger had never dwelled on it before. You didn’t go to events together, never went on vacations together, Ben and you still had your own apartments away from Roger’s house so when he was gone on tour you wouldn’t be questioned coming out of his house while he wasn’t there; you’d taken practically every precaution to make sure the press wouldn’t find out before the three of you were ready.

Roger dug into his jacket pocket for his phone, discarding the book onto the table in front of him.

He opened social media with good intentions.

#rogertaylorxy/n-l/n

OMG did you see the way Roger looked at Y/N during the interview? #hearteyes

Roger is so in love with Y/N. They should just get together already. #(your-ship-name)

(you-ship-name) is real ❤

Roger resisted the urge to like any of them before moving on.

#rogertaylorxbenhardy

Ben said he wasn’t looking for a relationship rn but he looks at Roger says otherwise 👀

Roger and Ben spend an awfully large amount of time together for two people who claim to be ‘just friends’.

Forget Maylor have you seen the way Hardylor look at each other?

Roger snickered quietly. Okay, maybe he and Ben weren’t doing the greatest job either.

He stroked his chin for a moment before taking to the keyboard again.

#benhardyxy/n-l/n

Y/N and Ben seemed awfully friendly during her interview with him #(your-ship-name)

Have you seen the pictures of Ben and Y/N at that coffee shop together??? I bet it was a date 💘

Y/N brought Ben a flower at the BAFTAs to put in his suit pocket and he never took it out! I bet he still has it.

Observant, Roger thought, Ben definitely still has the fake flower.

He hummed in thought. What if...

#benhardyxy/n-l/nxrogertaylor

Y/N spends a lot of time with Roger Taylor and Ben Hardy outside of a professional setting. Who’s she dating though??? What if it’s both???

OMG BEN AND Y/N WERE SEEN LEAVING ROGER’S HOUSE! IN THE MORNING!!!

I bet Y/N Ben and Roger are all dating and just keeping it on the down low. We’ve all seen the heart eyes they give each other.

Y/N and Roger just got on a plane heading to the place Ben’s filming in as seen by his Instagram story. Coincidence?

Roger’s eyes went wide. He checked the timestamp: 20m ago.

Well, Y/N was right. Maybe he should’ve died his hair.

“Looking for something in particular?” Y/N asked, eyes now opened sleepily and looking at phone screen from his shoulder.

“Not really,” Roger replied. “Just curious. Seems the fans are supportive...and onto us.”

He handed you the phone and you squinted at the screen.

“Queenskiller, huh? Clever person.”

“I can see why you were paranoid now,”

You laughed. “We’re almost there. As long as it’s not obvious where we’re going, we’ll be fine.”

***

“And CUT! Good work today everyone, let’s wrap up for lunch.”

Ben sat up from his position where his character had just been beaten to near death and went to get the fake blood cleaned off of him by the makeup designer.

The radio in the trailer was fading out a Beatles song and fading in Bohemian Rhapsody.

It made Ben’s heart ache.

“Hey, did you see Y/N L/N’s new interview with Harry Styles and Elton John?”

The makeup artist removing the makeup shook their head. “Not yet, is it good?”

“Of course. She asks them about their collaboration, similar tastes in style, and she doesn’t mention their sexualities like every other interviewer does.”

“Thank god for her, she’s a blessing. All those other nosy interviewers don’t ever ask anything interesting. The celebrities always do all the work to make the interview enjoyable. At least Y/N is interesting.”

Ben couldn’t help but smile softly to himself. He was proud.

“Have you heard she might be dating Roger Taylor?”

“The Queen drummer? Yeah. I heard they were getting on a plane together this morning.”

“Secret honeymoon?”

“Maybe,”

Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. They got on a plane? They didn’t mention they were going anywhere on the phone.

“Ben, you okay there, dear?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, sorry. Just lost in thought.”

Ben exited the trailer with a clean face and a wandering mind.

It wasn’t unlike Y/N and Roger to be spontaneous but Roger was working on the album and he thought Y/N had another interview today.

Ben shook his head and pulled out his phone. Whatever. He’d just call them and get things cleared up. He was done on set for the remainder of the evening anyway.

He hit the home phone number and waited as it rang.

And rang. And rang.

“Thank you for calling Roger Taylor’s home phone, but I am currently out at the moment. Leave a message and I might call you back.”

Ben hung up.

Okay, so they weren’t home. No big deal, he could still call your cells.

He hit your contact and waited as it rang.

***

You were rolling your luggage out of the airport with Roger when I Saw Her Standing There blasted from your phone.

Recognizing Ben’s personal ringtone, you picked up the phone. “Hey, Benny, what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just got done filming. Hey, did you and Roger go somewhere? Makeup artists were gossiping about it.”

You gave Roger a panicked look before quickly answering. “Oh, no. Must’ve been wrong. We’re just out for a walk.”

Roger rolled his eyes at your terrible lying skills.

But Ben seemed relieved. “Oh. I thought you might’ve gone somewhere and forgotten to tell me.”

“Oh no, not at all we just-”

Roger pulled you cellphone from your fingers and pressed it against his ear.

“Ben, you don’t need to worry about us. We’re doing fine.”

The rental car you and Roger had gotten pulled up and you quickly tossed you suitcase in the back and jumped in the passenger. Roger took the keys and got in the driver’s seat.

“I know, but I just wanted to make sure. Kept eating at me.”

“Ben, baby, where are you at, right now?”

“Uh, outside the set just about to head back to my hotel, why?”

“Oh, no reason. What hotel’s that again?”

“Lotus Hotel, why?”

“Just curious. Are they treating you right or do I need to make a phone call.”

“Christ, Rog, it’s find. Don’t freak. Are you driving? I thought Y/N said you were on a walk.”

“Oh, we just got back to the house and need to head to the store. Nothing too interesting.”

“A trip to the store with you is always interesting.”

“He’s not wrong,” you chirped from your seat and Roger sent you a playful glare, making you laugh.

Ben smiled. “Gosh I wish I could speed up the production. I’ve been gone from you two way too long.”

“Believe us, Benny, we agree. Hold on, gonna give you back to Y/N,”

He handed you your phone back as you handed him his for directions to the hotel.

“How was filming?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“All right. Filmed the fight scene today, that was interesting.”

You hummed in response.

“Hold on, Y/N, I just got in a taxi- yes, take me to the Lotus Hotel on thirteenth please.”

“Thirteenth?” Roger cursed. “Stupid phone says twelfth.”

“It’s on the corner of the two. He’s coming from the other direction, remember?” You replied, hand covering the receiver.

“What was that, love?” Ben asked.

“Oh, nothing, Roger just missed the turn, again.” You quickly replied. “You said you filmed a fight scene today?”

“Yeah, my character, Jack, got the piss beat out of him in a fight. Gets pretty bloodied up.”

“Well, you know nothing can make that pretty face of yours prettier than blood.”

“Is that a reference to my bloody nose? ‘Cause I keep tellin’ you it was a one time thing.”

You laughed. “Just teasing you, baby,”

Ben let out a laugh of his own, leaning back against the leather seat. “I really miss you guys.”

“We miss you, too. I hope that- Roger it was right there! Oh, jesus, Ben, I gotta go, Roger’s missing turns again. See you soon.”

The line cut off before Ben could question you. See you soon?

***

“’See you soon.’?! Bloody hell, Y/N, why don’t you just give away your own surprise.” Roger said.

“Well, if you hadn’t missed the turn I wouldn’t have had to hang up!” You retorted. “We need to get there before him, remember?”

Roger stuck his tongue out at you as he turned the car around.

You stuck yours out as well and it turned into a fit of giggles throughout the car.

Finally, Roger pulled into the hotel’s parking lot and parked the car in a spot.

“Your turn to call him, Mr. Taylor,” You said, getting out of the directions and handing him his phone.

Roger put the phone to his ear and waited for Ben to pick up.

“Roger?”

“Benny! Made it to the hotel, yet?”

“Uh, no, close though. You not driving anymore?”

“Nah, Y/N is in the store. She wouldn’t let me go in with her. Thought I might get a little more chat outta you before she comes back.”

Ben laughed. “I guess I’ll allow that.”

“Popular boy, ain’t ya?” The driver asked as he turned the corner into the hotel lot.

Ben grinned. “Yeah, I ‘spose I am.” He handed the driver the money for the trip. “Keep the change.”

The driver tipped his cap at Ben and Ben got out of the taxi.

“Sorry, Rog, what were you saying?”

“Oh, not much, just wondering who let you walk off set in those joggers. They look hideous.”

Ben looked down at the old green joggers he was wearing with a laugh. “Yeah, I need to get a new pair- wait, how’d you know I was wearing joggers?”

Ben heard a whistle and turned around.

Y/N was waving and smiling from where she was sat on the trunk of a car and Roger was stood next to her, phone still pressed to his ear, with a big ol’ grin on his face.

Ben dropped the phone from his ear, ending the call, and ran over to them.

Roger intercepted his boyfriend, who practically jumped into his arms, and Y/N hoped off the car to join them in the hug. Ben wrapped an arm around her, squeezing the two of them tightly, tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

“Oh, I can’t believe you’re here!” He said, pulling back finally.

You and Roger laughed.

“Y/N’s a bad liar,” Roger quipped, nudging your side.

“Hey! I’m not the one who got lost!”

“I missed one turn!”

Ben kissed them on the cheek. “Shut up, the both of you, please.”

You and Roger melted, forgetting your bickering and appreciating his presence.

***

Ben went to sleep that night with both of you in his bed.

Roger had immediately turned down the thermostat and Y/N rubbed Ben’s shoulders to relax him. They fought over the covers, had a pillow fight, and made sure that Ben was in the middle.

It felt right. It felt like home.

“You two are amazing to me,” Ben said as his partners snuggled into him.

“You deserve it,” Y/N mumbled, laying against Ben’s chest, his heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

“Don’t ever leave us this long again,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to Ben’s neck.

Ben smiled. “Guess you two will just have to come see me, again,”

#ben x reader x roger #roger taylor x reader x ben hardy #bxrxr #benxrogerxreader #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy imagine

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hyanikaa · 4 years ago

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Chapter 4 • The Unspoken Incident

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

WARNING//(Gore, Injury, Violence, Mentions of Trauma)

Memey decided he had to lie. He had to lie to save Tbh, to save the one person who'd cared for his well being. He rammed his body into the door until it broke through, equipping the superhuman strength that Kooki had given to him as a sorry. He picked up Tbh and ran to Medbay, slamming open the door and turning on the light, waking everyone up. "Urggh... who the- MEMEY??? How the- oh my god, TBH!!" Laff shrieked, getting out of the bed and picking up Tbh. "What happened???" Joocie asked, putting two fingers on Tbh's neck to search for a pulse. "I- I don't know, I woke up and Tbh was on the floor, and- and I think I broke through the door!" Memey sobbed, watching as Joocie nodded as Laff put Tbh on a bed. "He's still alive. Quickly, he's losing blood!" Dino and Blaza quickly went to help with the frantic group. Socks handed Memey a cookie to satisfy the monster for longer, offering a small and insincere grin. Hours has passed and TBH is now conscious, he opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the lights so he quickly closed his eyes, not letting any of the blinding light surge his sight. He opened his eyes once again, this time with more caution, he looked around the bright area he was in, he's in Medbay, on a bed, resting and healing. Has it always been this bright in Medbay? He thought, he looked to his sides to see was beside him, it was the teen with the iconic double top hats. But he stopped looking at his sides as it brought pain into his head. Why was he here? What happened? Why is he injured, nothing happened while he and Memey were exploring, right? "Oh, thank god you're awake," Nadwe sat up taller, resting both of his hands on his sheets. Tbh looked up at the pearly ceiling. "W-what... happened...?" Tbh asked, his head pounding with a grinding headache. "Everything... hurts..." His body was on fire. Every muscle, every joint, every organ system in his body was aching to the core. "Memey broke out of security somehow. He said when he came to, he'd attacked you. We need to get stronger doors." Tbh nodded. Obviously it was a blatant lie, but he appreciated Memey covering for him. "Memey brought you in super late. Woke all of us up and absolutely terrified me when you were bleeding in his arms. Blunt force trauma to the head, bites on your limbs, a part missing from your torso..." Nadwe talked like a doctor. Usually Memey would be the one, but he wasn't in the room, having long been sent back to security to watch his friends have fun without him. "But you've gotta be more careful, each day we draw closer to Polus." "Where are the others?" TB asked, "It's working hours right now, so everyone is doing and finishing their daily assigned tasks." The pink man replied. "Oh, so I should go and do my tasks too-" "No no no crab man, you are not going anywhere, that thing did a lot of damage on your body." The teen scolded. "Never knew I'll get scolded by a child." TB joked. "Well I wouldn't have scolded you if you didn't decide to rush out of bed." Nadwe replied. —— Blaza wandered the halls of the Skeld. He'd just finished divert power in shields. He looped around to Reactor, slamming his head on the Start Reactor panel as the buttons began to flash red. He let out a groan and started over, watching the buttons flash on screen. Suddenly, he heard something banging against the wall in Sceurity that made him mistap and start over again. He sighed in frustration and knocked on Security doors. "Memey? Everything all right in there?" No response came. Blaza wore a worried expression as the silence somehow grew louder. He sighed and started back towards reactor. The doors behind him smashed open suddenly, causing the red lights of emergency to flash on and start blaring.

He whipped his head around seeing the blue creature with eyes sprouted around an open slit for a mouth. Uneven and sharp teeth jutted out of the mouth, black slimy tentacles reaching towards him somewhere in the back. Adrenaline rushed the insides of Blaza, his first instinct was to jump and hide in the vents, 'no' he said to himself, it takes way too long to get inside, too risky. He just has to run. So he did.

He bolted out of the hallway running for his life, Cafeteria is right there, he can make, if he close the doors now, he could escape and live. Why doesn't he want to die? He'll just respawn like the rest. He shoved his thoughts away as he reached the hallways between the Engine and Cafeteria. He's there, he can be safe, he can get away. He just has to—-

His thoughts blacked out, silence filled the hallways, the doors around them closed shut, he let his guard down. Blaza looked down, he was held up in the air, blood dripping from his mouth and open wound- Open wound? Right...He was held up, one of the blue creature's tentacles impaled him, hanging him up in the air. He choked on his own blood. The corners of his sight started to blur and darken. Is this how it felt to die by the hands of your fellow Imposter?

Laff wasn't ready for what he'd seen. Laff wasn't ready at all. Not after experiencing it himself. Blaza came running in through the left door, reaching for the button in vain as a black spike stick through his body. Laff covered his mouth to hold in a scream, ducking under a Cafeteria table and watching as tears started to leave his eyes. His eyes widened in terror as the blue creatures stepped into view, tossing Blaza unceremoniously to the side like a rag doll. The body made a loud thump as it slid closer to Laff. The feet of the monster stood still, its tentacles forever moving as it looked around. Finally, when it determined that no one was in view, it turned around and left, leaving a line of blood smearing and scattering across the hallway. Laff waited another few seconds to make sure it was gone before opening his mouth and letting out a sob. The sob became multiple cries, until he was full on having a breakdown. He looked at Blaza, not wanting to see his expression.

Laff just sat there under the table, not wanting to move at all, this is too much, this is too much for him. He's seen his friends die and get revived before, but this was different. This wasn't child's play, they weren't just playfully pestering each other, no, it was serious this time. There's a monster inside one of his friends, and he felt all kinds of emotions just thinking about it. Anger, grief, pity, guilt, he felt it all. He couldn't handle the pain any longer, this creature wasn't killing for fun, this creature wasn't the friend they thought they knew. And that thought hurt him. He just stayed there, unable to look behind the lifeless corpse. He knows Blaza is okay, he's healing, he's fine. But he still worries, he worries it'll come back for him. He's scared and he can't help it. He let out another sob, this time more quiet.

He has decided. Unclasping his mask, he wiped the tears that flooded his face. He ran into Medbay where Nadwe, TBH were. No sign of Blaza still... he grabbed a medkit and made his way to where the creature was. He can't just hide and do nothing but cry, he needs to help his friend. He needs to help Memey. He needs to help stop their suffering, one way or another.

——

Word count: 1324

A very Laff-centered chapter, but who cares?-

I feel very bad for his character hbjdjasd

Also- Blaza's dead, he aint gonna respawn ;)

#MonsterCookie Au #among us #socksfor1 #socksfor2 #blaza #itsblaza #blazaplays #laff #laffengas #tbhonest #joocie #oompa #oompaville #oof #nadwe #fatmemegod #woolf #woolfster #dino #dinobutb

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dangerousconnoisseurdonut · 4 years ago

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Curse of Loki preview (F/F/m)

On AO3, I have a request for a Tickle Fic, something I have toyed with for years, but never had the guts to do until now. I realize tickling isn’t everyone’s kink, but please be kind as this is my first attempt. I am posting a preview here to get a feel if I’m doing this right.

Now, context! Bruce has been sent a horn with Norwegian Runes all over it. What he doesn’t know is that this is the Horn of Loki, the Trickster God and causes... interesting results between the recipient and their enemies. In this case, Bruce and the Rogues of Gotham. After he has blown the horn, he gets the urge to go into the city and winds up at Selina’s flat, not realizing that she has a guest at the minute and... well, here goes nothing.

“Relax, Bruce, I just wanted to lounge around for a change; Tabitha and Barbara got me this on my last birthday. Do you like it?” Selina gave a little pose and Bruce did his best to keep his eyes on her face where they belonged and not drawn to her cleavage which he had never seemed to notice before. It was darker than magenta, somewhere between sangria and mulberry, with pink cherry blossoms scattered on it; it was indeed beautiful, but Bruce was wishing at the moment she had something on underneath as he could see her breasts, including her perky nipples.

“Bruce?” Selina asked with a shit-eating grin as though she had a damn good idea why he hadn’t answered her, causing his blush to deepen as he responded,

“Nice! It’s very, uh, very nice!”

“I think the naughty boy was eyeing your tits, Cat.” Bruce whirled around at the sound of another female, only to find Bridgit Pike waltzing into the room in another bathrobe, this one somewhere between navy and indigo, with white orchids. He was struck by how attractive she was, even with the scars on her face and what he could see of her body; her hair was long, though there was none where her face had been burned, and her smile was one of the, pardon the pun, cat who got the canary. He felt himself harden as he suddenly felt very much like a canary.

“Uh, I’m uh, sorry for interrupting you two, I’ll just, um, I’ll just -” Bruce was shocked when Bridgit grabs the lapel of his jacket and pulls him to her so she can kiss him. As he and Bridgit make-out, he feels Selina grab his jacket and pull it off of him. Bruce however gets a moment of clarity and pulls away as Selina pulls his button up partially off, ripping a few of the buttons off and trapping his arms in the sleeves.

“W-wait a minute, what are y-you -?” Bruce just about jumped out of his skin when Selina dug her fingers into his underarms, causing him to almost bite his tongue off as he fought not to laugh.

“Naughty boys need to be punished, but we don’t want to hurt you so, Selina and I think you need a good laugh; not to sound like Jerome, but you are way too serious.” Bridgit explains as she lightly runs her fingers over his ribs. Bruce doesn’t say anything, knowing the minute he opens his mouth he’ll start laughing and won’t be able to stop. He hadn’t been tickled since he was seven, and he had forgotten how much he hated it. Selina and Bridgit start leading him to Selina’s bed, digging their fingers into his ribs or underarms when he tries to struggle. Bruce is almost crying from the exertion it’s taking to not laugh. When it comes time to get him on the bed, they move quickly to get Bruce’s arms out from the shirt, and tied down using some scarves. For his legs, Bridgit sits on Bruce’s stomach and switches between his underarms and stomach, not letting him get used to either sensation as Selina wrestles him out of his shoes, pants, underwear, and socks before tying his legs down. Bridgit stopped for a moment, enjoying seeing Bruce struggle to contain his laughter, as Selina went to get something.

“P-please Bridgit, I, I’m sorry I looked at Selina’s breasts; you’re both so pretty I couldn’t help it, but I’m so sorry for being a pervert and -mmph!” Bruce was cut off as Bridgit again kissed him, and he moaned a little as she played with his nipples before Selina came back.

“Starting without me?”

“I’ve never seen a guy apologize so much for sneaking a peak at a boob before.” Bridgit explained as she petted Bruce’s locks, something he actually seemed to enjoy.

“I told you; he’s an odd one but can actually be kind of sweet, like a puppy.” Selina said as she resumed her position at his feet, making him worry about what she planned to do.

“Well, even cute puppies have to be disciplined when they do something naughty, but since he seems so sincere with his apology, I think we can give him a little reward afterwards.” Bruce went to beg again, only for Bridgit to lightly trail her fingers up to his underarms, prompting him to keep his mouth shut and bite his lips.

“Gotta warn you handsome; we won’t stop until we hear you laugh. Why not make it easy on yourself and just let it out?” Bruce shook his head, causing Bridgit to sigh before smirking as she dug her fingers into his underarms and Selina tickled his thighs, a place he didn’t even think was ticklish but Selina just had to prove him wrong. He giggled, chortled, and snorted behind closed lips, but still refused to out and out laugh, even when Bridgit switched to his stomach and Selina tickled his knees (seriously, knees could be a ticklish spot?). Though, when one of Bridgit’s fingers got close to his navel, he almost lost control, though sadly he knew Bridgit had seen it for what it was when she got a wicked gleam in her eyes before saying,

“He’s a tough nut to crack, Cat; I think we better up our game.” Selina released a very put-upon sigh as she responded,

“You asked for this Bruce.” Bridgit leaned over as Selina also stopped to get something, though just what Bruce could not see. When Bridgit pulled back, she held what appeared to be a makeup brush, making Bruce wander just what was she going to do with that. He wasn’t allowed to worry about it however as Selina grabbed the toes of his right foot and stretched them back as far as they would go, leaving his arch taut. He got the uneasy feeling he was about to face his Waterloo. Bridgit then leaned down and placed the brush on his stomach and started a slow spiral edging closer and closer to his navel. Soon, it was tracing the navel itself, and Bruce was shaking so bad with suppressed laughter, he thought he was going to pass out. Those soft, silky bristles felt like dragons teeth on his sensitive stomach. Bridget looked him straight in the eye, amber into green, and asked,

“Does our naughty pretty boy have a ticklish belly button?” Before Bruce could confirm or deny, Bridgit dug the makeup brush right into his navel to swirl it around same time as Selina lightly ran her nails up his foot. Actually, to Bruce’s horror, he realized Selina was wearing her gloves with the claws on them, and they were what she was lightly dragging up and down his foot. At the twin sensations, Bruce didn’t stand a chance and finally burst out,

“Hahahaha! P-please s-s-stop! I, I c-can’t t-t-take this!” Bruce hated how he was reduced to stuttering, but the girls were just too good. Selina kept her touch light to make sure her claws didn’t accidentally pierce the skin, but that didn’t make it any less intense as she used one claw to draw nonsensical patterns along his sole, first lines going up and down, then spirals on the ball and heel of his foot, then zig-zags across his arches. Bridgit meanwhile kept switching between the brush and her her finger digging into his navel. Sometimes, just to spice things up, she would use the brush on his navel while digging her fingers into his underarm. Her dual sensations of sharp and soft were driving him up the wall. Once, she even ran the brush over his nipple and as the silky smooth bristles ran along his slightly swollen nub, he didn’t know if he wanted to moan or bite his tongue off.

“You know, Bruce, for a guy who runs around as much as you do, you have really soft feet.” Selina casually remarked before she gave into temptation and ran her tongue up the sole in front of her, enjoying Bruce’s bucking as he almost screamed,

“S-Selina! P-pl-please s-stop! Hahahaha!” Bridgit then found a similar urge over taking her so she leaned down and ran her tongue along Bruce’s underarm, relishing in the squeal Bruce couldn’t hold back as she licked and nipped at the smooth skin there.

“Isn’t Bridgit beautiful, Bruce?” Selina asked before she nipped at his arch and soothed it with her tongue.

“V-v-very b-b-beautiful!” Bruce had started laughing so hard, he was actually crying a bit.

“Why don’t you show her how beautiful you think she is by eating her out?” As though convincing him of the idea, she tickled one sole with her claws and licked the other one, going so far as to take his pinky toe into her mouth and run her tongue all around it.

“A-anything y-you w-w-want!” Bruce was almost convinced he was having an out of body experience from the sensations. He took in a huge breath when they stopped while Bridgit moved to sit on his face, though he was surprised when she turned around so she would be facing Selina.

“If you think I’m going to stop tickling you and making you do that cute little laugh of yours, you’re as nuts as Selina says you are. Besides, this gives me better access to your cute little belly button.” Bruce whimpered before leaning forward to her center; he hadn’t had much practice with this, but he remembered a few drunken fumblings with Grace, and she directed him to what she liked and didn’t like, though this time he was hindered by only having his tongue and he was at the wrong angle to reach her clit. Still, he started by gently licking her inner lips with little nips here and there, and he heard her give a little moan.

“Looks like you haven’t been training your puppy enough Selina; he’s very shy, but seems like he’s -ah!- trying.” Bridgit stroked his hip as she spoke, and Selina smirked as she responded,

“Maybe we should encourage his tongue a bit more by way of example?” ‘Oh no, what now?’ Bruce whimpered before almost dislodging Bridgit when he bucked like a bronco at the feeling of tongues on his most ticklish spots. Selina repeated the action of putting his toes in her mouth and running her tongue and now teeth around them as she dragged her claws along the arch. Bridgit meanwhile leaned down and used her fingers to spider up and down his stomach as she stuck her tongue in his navel and swirled it around before nipping at the skin around it. As he laughed at such intense sensations, Bridgit moaned at the vibrations, causing her own tongue to vibrate in his navel, which made it tickle even more. He wondered about the heat that had started bubbling up in his stomach from all this; was he becoming aroused from being these powerful girls little tickle and sex toy?

#gotham #tickling #bruce wayne #selina kyle #bridgit pike

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love-toxin · 5 years ago

Text

day 16, voyeurism; tamaki.

a/n: kinktober day 16. voyeurism, masturbation, sub tamaki, degradation, female reader, lemon.

word count: 1.8k

God, he really couldn’t hate himself more than he did right now.

“G-Gross...you’re so gross, Tamaki..”

He despised the way he moaned out his own insults, voice cracking and sweat pouring down his flushed face. His hand had been occupied with feverishly jerking himself off, trying in vain to induce his pleasure so it would go away--but finally he had to give it up, huffing out a breath as he closed the tab on his computer, and hiked his pants back up to button them again.

It didn’t matter what he did, now--watching porn, thinking up some wicked scenario, even using his quirk in ways that would make him wish he were dead if anyone found out...nothing was working anymore. Nothing could help him get off for days now, and it was getting to a point that he felt he was ready to burst from the tension.

And it was all because of that one, beautiful afternoon, where he’d made both the best and worst mistake of his life.

“Ugh..”

He leaned his head back in his chair, the thought of it already forcing the feeling of guilt to bubble up in the back of his throat. He didn’t mean for it to happen, he honestly just wasn’t paying enough attention--but his luck just made life hell for him, and of course, it had to include the girl he’d had a hopeless crush on since his first year.

He’d forgotten his socks in the locker room after training, and doubled back to go retrieve them, to then head home to his dorm...but when he pushed open the door, he did not get an overly eager greeting from Mirio as he had anticipated.

Instead, he got a sneaker launched directly into his face, the sole leaving an imprint as he scrambled to his feet and rushed out of the room, faster than he’d ever moved in his life. But the damage was already done--he had gotten an eyeful of you, standing just a few feet from where he entered, completely naked and dripping from your shower. You looked shocked more than angry, and a small shred inside him was happy that it wasn’t you who threw your shoe at him and screamed for him to get out, but one of the other girls who had previously been giggling and chatting it up with you. Naked. All together, in one room.

“Stop.”

In a hurry, Tamaki slapped his cheeks with his hands, to break him out of his unnecessarily perverse thoughts. If this were a normal circumstance, he would beat himself off and squirt in a tissue and that would be the end of it, but this wasn’t normal, not at all--it wasn’t every day that someone got to see their crush in the nude, and if he had to stand one more second of thinking about burying his face in those beautiful breasts of yours--

“I-I gotta take a walk..”

So flustered he looked like he had a fever, he got up from his seat and stuffed his hands in his pockets, willing away his slow-growing erection as he stepped out of his room and stalked down the hallway. During these late nights, he had little else to do but wander--so wander he did, meandering about in the empty corridors and soon considering getting a drink of water...when he heard the sound of a door creak, further down the hallway. Usually, he wouldn’t mind such a thing…

...But it was your door that had made the sound. And it was open, just a sliver of light from your bedroom illuminating a bit of the hallway.

Footsteps padding softer, and softer, Tamaki sidled up to your room noiselessly, to instinctively peer through the little crack--and what he saw was liable to make his heart stop altogether.

You stood by your bed, back to your front door, with your phone in hand--and nothing but a towel to cover yourself, your hair still wet from the shower you must have just taken. Digging his nails into his palm hard enough to draw blood, he was faced with a very heavy, serious decision--one that he only took a second to contemplate, before he was leaning against the doorframe to steady himself, while he got comfortable with the view he had been so graciously given. He didn’t give a shit, at this point--you were here, and wet, and so pretty, and even if it wasn’t the behavior of a proper hero, he would have to have been a fool to pass up such a perfect opportunity.

Your towel slipped down a bit, but being by yourself, you apparently didn’t feel the need to fix it--and Tamaki’s breath hitched in his throat, loud enough that he frantically slapped both hands over his mouth, when you let the fabric slide off your hips and drop into a pool around your feet. You hadn’t noticed, or you didn’t care--and you absentmindedly tapped away at your phone, completely unaware of the fact that someone’s eyes were roaming over your naked body, drinking you up like you were a sweet, syrupy libation.

Tamaki was well aware that this was crossing the line, that he should turn around and walk straight to his room and scrub the lewd images of you from his head. He should have. But instead, he found his fingers fumbling with the zipper on his pants, tugging them down just enough so that he could pull his cock free from his underwear, and start stroking himself to the sight of you in all your glory. In any other circumstance, the thought of jacking off in a public hallway would probably send him into cardiac arrest--but he was so desperate by now, his cock had already been dripping into his pants and left a stain he would have to vigorously scrub out later.

Inside, you hummed softly as you brushed the knots out from your hair, running your fingers through your locks and looking like an angel in a renaissance painting. And then, just when he thought you couldn’t possibly be showing more skin--you reached down to grab your towel, and bent over in the process.

“Mh-!”

Tamaki gripped his dick so hard it hurt, his free hand smothering the sounds he tried so hard not to make. The sight between your legs was something he’d absolutely fantasized about, but God, it couldn’t even attempt to compare to the real thing. You looked so warm, the heat practically radiating off your soft cunt, and he couldn’t even dream of what it might feel like to actually make love to you. But the only thing that could veto his attempts to not get caught was his insatiable desire to orgasm, and so he started up again, his hand forcing tiny, almost unnoticeable wet sounds as he used his precum to lube himself up.

He could imagine what you’d say, if you saw him right now. You would tell him he was a fucking pervert, a freak, a shitty excuse for a hero--and he’d probably cum if you did, hell, even thinking about you saying such things made him want to bust. He would cum all over your shoes, and you’d force him to lick it all off, grinding your heel into the back of his head as he bowed before you like a coward…

“What are you, a fucking bitch in heat? You’re disgusting, Amajiki.”

...And when he looked back up, he would see everything you hid beneath that too-short skirt of yours, plush thighs framing a pussy he would dream about for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t be able to help himself, and would bury his face between your legs--and even if you degraded him, if you spit on him and tried to pry him off, he wouldn’t move until he had you cumming all over his tongue and crying for him to just fuck you already-

“Ah--o-oh, no, no-hng..!”

He came to a rushing, sudden end, unable to stop from bucking into his hand and finishing before he was ready, cum jetting out and splattering on to the ground below him and splashing on to your door. Heat flooded his body as his cock kept twitching, eyes rolling back in the most overwhelming orgasm he’d ever had--his head felt fuzzy, his nerves tingled, and his hand was covered with his own sperm, the mess barely even registering until he had started to come down from his high. Panting like a dog, Tamaki leaned back against the door frame, to collect himself--and of course, in a situation like this, his bad luck seemed to never stop.

Because without noticing, he’d hit your door with his elbow--and it swung open, revealing the culprit of the occasional creak and breath you had convinced yourself was just the wind, as you turned to face him.

“Ta..Tamaki..?”

Your voice made his blood freeze in his veins. To his horror, the two of you made eye contact--and your first reaction was to cross your arms over your chest to hide, while he stumbled and frantically yanked up his pants.

“T-Tamaki-!”

With nothing else in his head but the thought of escape, he dashed down the corridor faster than he’d ever seen that engine quirk student in 1-A sprint, skidding around the familiar corners before he finally arrived at his room, to throw the door open and then slam it shut. By now, he already knew his life was over--images already flashed in his head of you running to Aizawa or Vlad to tell them he had been peeping, he could see himself being expelled and banned forever from U.A. grounds, the headlines reporting his deviancies were practically already being written for God’s sake--

“...Tamaki..?”

His head snapped up, but he was almost completely certain the voice was still in his head--just a horrible memory of the look in your eyes when you realized he had seen you naked twice now.

But that only lasted until his doorknob turned, and he hastily took a step away, to see it open slowly and a familiar head peek out from behind it.

“Tamaki...come back to my room.”

His eyes widened, the shock making him believe he might have had a stress-induced aneurism, and this was all just a dream. But no, you were real, he could smell you, even from here...and his brain ran wild with thoughts of what you had in mind for him, especially when he took notice to you taking your hand off the doorknob, and realizing with a flash of embarrassment that he’d gotten his cum all over it via his hand. And you only stared at your fingers, sticky with the seed he had just recently been imagining pumping you full of...before turning your gaze back towards him, something flashing behind your eyes.

“...And, can you please bring a cloth with you?....You made a mess.”

#yandere tamaki amajiki #yandere suneater #yandere tamaki x reader #yandere tamaki amajiki x reader #yandere suneater x reader #yandere bnha #yandere lemon #yandere kinktober 2019 #yandere kinktober #love-toxin kinktober #love-toxin #1k #female reader

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canisterofsoda · 4 years ago

Text

incoming long list of incorrect quotes because im getting annoying on discord so you people have to deal with me now

Kei: Looking left cause you don’t treat me right

Han: Looking right because you left

Rose: Looking up cause you let me down

Oliver: Looking down cause you fucked up

Blair: What is wrong with you guys

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

Kei: Bridge the generation gap by combining old and new slang into one!

Han: Tubular AF!

Rose: Mood to the max!

Oliver, annoyed: Groovy, I hate it.

Blair, just as annoyed: If she breathes, she’s a square.

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

Kei: What’s something you guys are better than Han at?

Rose: Mario Kart.

Oliver: Yeah, video games.

Blair: Emotional vulnerability.

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

Kei: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do?

Han: Have everyone stand.

Rose: Bring three more chairs!

Oliver: The most important ones can sit down.

Blair: Kill three.

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

Kei: Favorite horror movie?

Han: It

Rose: Saw

Oliver: Annabelle

Blair: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

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

Kei: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.

Han: This knife is actually a magic wand.

Rose: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.

Oliver: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Blair: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

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

Kei: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life

Han: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years!

Rose: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this!

Oliver: I knew I lost that potential somewhere!

Blair: My moral code, is that you?

Kei:

Kei: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mother left me but do you guys need a hug?

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

Kei: What if the person who named Walkie Talkies named everything?

Han: Pregnancy tests are Maybe Babies

Blair: Socks are Feetie Heaties

Oliver: Forks are Stabby Grabbies

Han: Defibrillators are Heartie Starties

Blair: Nightmares are Dreamy Screamies

Oliver: Stamps are Lickie Stickies

Rose, annoyed: You are disappointments

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

Kei: Where's Han, Rose, and Oliver?

Blair: They're playing hide and seek.

Kei: Where?

Blair: I don't think you get how this game works.

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

Kei: You kidnapped Han? That’s illegal!

Rose: But Kei, what’s more illegal? Briefly inconveniencing Han, or destroying our dreams?

Kei: Kidnapping Han, Rose!!!

Oliver: Kei, listen, whatever I may think of you right now- these guys are counting on you to inspire them!

Kei: What, to kidnap people?!?!

Oliver: To work together!

Kei: TO KIDNAP PEOPLE?!?!?!?!

Blair: Kei, we all agreed a Han is a not a people.

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

Kei: Anyone d-

Han: Depressed?

Rose: Drained?

Oliver: Dumb?

Blair: Disliked?

Kei: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...

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

Kei: Nothing in life is free.

Han: Love is free!

Rose: Adventure is free.

Oliver: Knowledge is free.

Blair: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

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

Kei: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Han: ... Your what?

Kei: My friends.

Rose: Are they saying “friends”?

Oliver: I think they're being sarcastic.

Blair: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Kei! All of your friends are in this room.

Kei: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

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

Kei: Good responses for being stabbed with a knife?

Han: Rude.

Rose: That’s fair.

Oliver: Not again.

Blair: Are you going to want this back?

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

Kei: Are we really going to let Han keep Rose?

Oliver: We kept Blair.

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

Kei: What does 'take out' mean?

Han: Food.

Rose: Dating

Oliver: Murder

Blair: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

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

Kei: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.

Han: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Rose: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Han, learn to listen.

Oliver: What if it bites itself and I die?

Blair: That’s voodoo.

Himari: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Han: That’s correlation, not causation.

Oliver: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Blair: That’s kinky.

Kei: Oh my God.

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

*The squad is over at Kei's house*

Han: Ohhhh, we each get our own oven?

Kei: ... N-No...

Kei, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have???

Han, motioning to their kitchen: Three, I thought!

Rose: I see a-

Kei, motioning to one device: This is a microwave.

Han: Oh, well I-

Kei: Hey wait wait, actually- hang on- *fiddles with the buttons on the microwave*

Kei, amazed: Its got a bake setting!

Oliver: Ohoho, you learn something new every day!

Blair: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first?

Kei: Now I've just discovered I have more ovens than I thought, we don't have to roshambo nothin!

Kei: I am someone who owns four ovens...

Kei, louder and way too happy: I am someone... who owns FOUR OVENS...

Kei: I didn't know I was so rich with ovens...

Himari, pointing to another appliance: Also the toaster oven!

Kei:

Han: Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens!

Kei:

Kei, fucking ECSTATIC: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS

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

Kei: Rules are made to be broken.

Han: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Rose: Uh, piñatas.

Oliver: Glow sticks.

Blair: Karate boards.

Himari: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Kei: Rules.

Han:

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

Kei: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Han: >:O language

Rose: Yeah watch your fucking language

Oliver: OKAY WHO TAUGHT ROSE THE FUCK WORD?

Blair: 'The fuck word'.

Himari: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Rose: Oh my god they censored it

Blair: Say fuck, Himari.

Rose: Do it, Himari. Say fuck.

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

'Can I copy the homework?'

Kei: I can help you with it!

Han: Yeah, sure.

Rose: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Oliver: lol nope.

Blair: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Himari: *Read 5:55pm*

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

Kei: Time for plan G.

Han: Don’t you mean plan B?

Kei: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Rose: What about plan D?

Kei: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Oliver: What about plan E?

Kei: I’m hoping not to use it. Blair dies in plan E.

Himari: I like plan E.

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

Kei: We need to distract these guys

Han: Leave it to me

Han: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Rose, Oliver, and Blair: *Immediately begin arguing*

Himari, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

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

*The squad right before Kei's wedding*

Han: Well I have to go, I have a wedding to attend.

Rose: Wait... Oh! I have a wedding to attend too!

Oliver: Oh, I have a wedding to attend as well

Blair: I THINK WE ALL HAVE WEDDINGS TO ATTEND

Himari, panicked: I THINK I HAVE A WEDDING TO OFFICIATE

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

Kei: Croissants: dropped

Han: Road: works ahead

Rose: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Oliver: Shavacado: fre

Blair: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Himari:

Himari, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

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

Kei: Everytime I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke.

Han: Okay, but what is updog?

Rose: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish.

Oliver: Not, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released.

Blair: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden.

Himari: Surely, that’s Uppsala, where’s updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter.

Kei: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs.

Oliver: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current.

Rose: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway.

Han: What’s a henway??

Kei: Oh, about five pounds.

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

Kei: Just be yourself.

Han: 'Be myself'? Kei, I have one day to win Rose over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Oliver: Couple weeks.

Blair: Six months.

Himari: Jury’s still out.

Han: See, Kei?

Han: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

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

Kei: I CAN'T DO IT!

Han, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Kei: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Rose: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Kei:

Kei: I appreciate it,

Kei: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Oliver: Kei-

Kei: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Blair: Kei we gotta-

Kei: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Kei: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Kei, motioning to Himari: NOT FUCKING THIS

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

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Kei: Thanks fam!

Han: oh no

Rose: *cries* I love you too

Oliver: Sounds fake but okay

Blair: *A flustered mess*

Himari: can i get a refund

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

Kei: Hewwo.

Han: Hihiiiiii!

Rose: Greetings, Humans.

Blair: Three kinds of people.

Oliver: I want pudding.

Kei: Four kinds of people.

Himari: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?

Blair: Five kinds of people.

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

Kei, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Han: Hey.

Rose: Hi.

Oliver: Hello.

Blair: Hey!

Kei: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Himari: We were out of Doritos.

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

Kei: *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat*

Han: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents

Kei: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you

Rose: Actually I did the math, Han would have $225, not $0.15.

Han: Fam I’m right here....

Oliver: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :)

Kei: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please?

Oliver: Sorry I only have a dollar

Kei: :(

Rose: Hey I just realized my friend is right, Han would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent

Oliver: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice

Rose: You can buy anything you want with $22,500

Blair: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice

Rose: Apply juice to what

Himari: Directly to the forehead

Han: Great chat everyone

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

Kei: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Han: Nope, absolutely not.

Rose: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Oliver: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Blair: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Himari: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

#soda's ocs #incorrect quotes generator my beloved

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