#the last one is p neat since it looks like they are leaning into each other (contextually its a little different)

[hermesmoly]

Zeus and Hera in a nutshell

[the-froschamethyst4]

The Way of a HouseHusband

𖤐Pairing: Househusband! Price x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, smut, flirting, kissing, fingering, eating out, dick sucking, married couple, language, breadwinner Y/n

Price stays home to do the household chores for his wife Y/n, who makes the money in the household

As Price was gone from the Military but was still on call just in case, his life now is shopping, cleaning and pleasing the misses

He treats Y/n like a Queen, she’s sick? Everything is paused so Price can take care of her I mean in his wedding vows he did say he’ll drop everything just to treat her like a Queen

——————

———————

7:00AM

John Price, the househusband for his wife Y/n. They've been married to each other for 6-7 years, once Price left the Military. He vowed to always take care of his wife no matter what, if she was sick, he'd drop everything to take care of her.

He makes her breakfast, lunch, and dinner just for her. He loves her so much, if he was water and she was fire, he would still love her.

Price had woken up from his deep sleep and went downstairs, he was shirtless and had gray sweatpants on that hung low on his hips. He grabbed his '#1 Cook' apron and put it on his body to make Y/n's breakfast for her.

He was going to make her favorite and also make her lunch in the process. He set her plate on the table and also placed her lunch box on the counter for to grab once she's ready.

"SHIT I'M SO LATE! I'M LATE, I'M LATE, HE'S GOING TO KILL ME!!" Y/n yelled as she came down the stairs still buttoning her shirt.

"Woah hey, hey, little mamas, calm down, he won't do anything, not while I'm around," he chuckles and helped her get ready for work.

"You don't understand Price, last time I was late, he threatened to fire me," she was panicked and was fixing her hair and Price was trying to fix her clothes, so they looked nice and neat.

"Well, he won't if I'm there," he said, while looking down at her.

"What does that mean?" She asks and he only chuckled. She grabbed her heels and purse; she kissed Price's lips and left the house.

"Have a good day, honey," Price yells from the kitchen and he heard the door shut. He just hummed and looked at the table not seeing his breakfast touched.

He let out a sigh and grabbed some tubber ware and put the breakfast in it. He puts the lid on it and then turned and saw her lunchbox still on the counter.

"SHE FORGOT HER LUNCH!!" He yells, he quickly removed his apron, and went to go find a shirt and some shoes and got in his car and drove to Y/n's work.

Y/n got to her cubical and sat down in it, she rested her hands on her stomach after she felt it grumble.

"Ah man...hey Beth, do you know if the lounge has any donuts or anything?" Y/n asked, leaning over her cubical.

"No girl, every man for themselves."

"Oh damn," she said as she sat back down in her chair and felt her stomach grumble again.

"Y/n, your husband is here," Stacy said over the intercom.

"Y/N WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LATE!!?" She heard her boss yell. She looked over her shoulder and saw him angerly stomp to her desk.

"Ummm~ s-sorry sir, I-I overslept..." she said as she stood up and played with her fingers feeling nervous.

"I overslept," he mocked her voice. "THAT IS SUCH A LAME ASS EXCUSE, I'M TIRED OF HEARING THAT EXCUSE COME FROM EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!! Y/n I swear to God, you are fi-"

"Love, you forgot your lunch and I bought breakfast since you didn't eat," Price said coming around the corner and giving her, the breakfast and lunchbox. He kissed her temple and placed his hands on her waist. "Oh, is this the boss?" He asked.

"Y-Yeah...P-Price this is M-Mr.Williams, my b-boss, Mr.Williams this is my husband, John," she stutters. John knows Y/n well, when she stutters it means something just made her embarrassed, scared or uncomfortable.

"What was...going on? I heard yelling not too long ago," he says, while looking at her boss.

"I was...I was just telling my staff how much I appreciate them."

What a fucking lie and Price knew it was too.

"Really then...what were you going to tell my wife?"

"T-That she is-"

"Fired?"

"No, no, NO! I was going to say you are fire, like she's so cool, that I'm glad she is part of my staff." Lair.

"Oh really, I'm glad..." Price had an unamused looked on his face. "Well since you think she's 'fire' then...why did you threaten to fire her if she was late again?"

"I was joking," Price can be scary if he wanted to, but all Price was doing was looking annoyed and it made Mr.Williams scared because no one faces him like Price is doing.

"Yeah, right. If you ever threated my wife with some sort of nonsense again....I will come down here personally and beat you into a pulp, do we understand each other?" Price asked.

Mr.Williams quickly nods his head. "Yes, I understand, I understand perfectly."

"Good...now leave my wife alone, you'll only address her if you need something not to bitch to her about her lateness...that ALSO goes for everyone else in this business, you will not address them to bitch at them for their mistakes, you will address to them if you need something."

"I understand," Price just chuckles before kissing Y/n's temple again.

"Thank you, handsome..." Y/n said as she kissed his lips.

"I'll see you later, little mama," he says before walking away. "Bye-bye everyone, bye-bye Mr.Williams." Price teased and Mr.Williams just nodded his head as he understood.

---------

11:40AM

Price was now cleaning around the house; he was back in his original attire from this morning. No shirt and sweatpants.

He cleaned the hard wooden floors, the counter tops, and dusted everything. He hummed a soft tune and thought about Y/n, he mainly was thinking if he embarrassed her at work today?

He was only trying to protect her; he wasn't trying to embarrass her for no reason.

"Should I apologize?" He asked himself. "No, she would have told me to leave when I started talking..."

Price just looked at the clock he has 4 hours before Y/n comes back home for the day. He still needed to go get groceries for dinner tonight.

He finished up cleaning and grabbed his shirt, shoes and keys. He went to the local grocery store and went to go get his ingredients for dinner tonight.

He wanted to treat Y/n.

--------

3:00PM

Y/n pulled into the driveway, she rubbed her tired head and opened the front door. Once she stepped into the house, she was hit with the best smell ever.

She came around the corner of the kitchen and saw her husband making dinner for her. He was moving swiftly around the kitchen fixing her the perfect Dinner she's ever had while being with him.

"John?"

"Love, welcome home, I didn't hear you come in, I'm just almost with dinner," he says, she sets her stuff down and sat down in her usual spot.

She smiled when she saw him start to plate everything. He set Y/n's down first and then his.

"Price, what is it?" She asked him with her usual sweet smile.

"I saw Ghost post it on Facebook (he would use Facebook tell me I'm wrong) a couple nights ago and I figured I should make it for you one day, and I thought today would be perfect, you know since...I embarrassed you at work."

"Embarrassed me? You didn't embarrass me, Price. I was actually so happy to see you come in, I knew you would stand up for me. I try to do it, but I can't with Mr.Williams, he's just so mean and rude that I was scared to say something, this morning. You could never embarrass me." She smiles at him. Price felt relieved that he didn't say or do anything embarrassing.

"I'm glad, I didn't embarrass you."

"Even if you did...I could never get mad at you," she smiles.

"Good," he smiles.

Price and Y/n ate dinner and talked about Y/n's day and even Price's day. He talked about when he walked out of the grocery store, he saw a kitten and gave it some food and thought about taking it home but didn't know how Y/n would feel about it.

"I mean wouldn't mind it; I've always wanted a pet when we started living together just didn't know...how you would feel," they both laugh.

"If I see it again, I'll bring it home."

"Good."

Once they were done eating, Price cleaned the plates as Y/n went to the bedroom to go change from her work attire to some more comfy clothes.

She wore one of Price's t-shirts and just some black panties. She walked back downstairs and saw him cleaning.

"I could do it."

"No, no way, I'll do it," Price said.

"But I want to help," she smiles.

"It's fine, love, I can do it, I appetite though lovely."

"Okay," she ducked down and got between him and the sink, she looked up and kissed his jaw. She then started to move down, and she grabbed a hold of the top of his sweatpants, but Price immediately grabbed them trying to pull them back up.

"Hey, what are you doing, love?"

"I want to pleasure you."

"But that's my job," he says looking down at her face.

"But I want to you to feel good, you may always make me feel good, but now it's your turn," she smirks and grab his sweatpants again, he allowed her to pull them down, she grabbed the top of his boxers and just slightly pulled them down.

She looked at his dick, it was...soft...but Price didn't care if she saw it soft, he would get bricked up pretty easily.

She barely touched his dick and it immediately got hard. She smirks and she kissed his tip, she looks up at him seeing him fold, his hands rested on the sink, his legs spread, and he backs up just a little bit, so she could have room.

Price let out a soft moan, she wrapped her lips around his dick and then moved her hand back and forth as her tongue then swirled around his dick.

"Ah s-shit, l-love," he moans.

"Are you about to cum already?" She asks, looking up at him with such big doe eyes.

"Maybe," his legs shake a little bit.

She giggles at him and continues to suck him off, she earned so many moans and groans from him. She just smiled at up him.

"Holt fuck," he moans, he then moved his hand to the back of her head and just held her hair, letting her do the work. He felt his body jerk a bit and he ended up coming in her mouth.

She moved off his dick and showed him the cum in her mouth, she closed her mouth and swallowed, it has been a while since she sucked him off, Price mainly keeps his wife pleased that sometimes he neglects himself.

"Wow," he cups her chin making her make eye contact with him. "Now...it's your turn," he smirks.

He picks her off the floor, he pulled his boxers and sweatpants back up, he sets Y/n on the counter and pushes the bottom of the shirt up showing off her black lace panties.

He smirks and kisses her lips; his hands went to the top of her panties and pulled them down off her lower half. She moans into the kiss and Price's fingers found their way to her clit.

She moans when his fingertips touch her clit. He smirks into the kiss and slowly pushes his fingers in and out of her. She moaned into the kiss as Price then moves his fingers quickly in and out of her.

His fingers every now and then touched her spot. He felt her clench around his finger every time he hit her spot. He wanted her to cum almost immediately like he did, but he still wanted to have his fun with his wife.

He pulled his fingers out of her and pulled away from the kiss, she pants from having her breath being taken away and whined when his fingers were pulled out of her.

His face was close to her clit, he licked her wet folds and watched her immediately jerk her head back, her hand went to his hair just to hold his hair, she pulled at his hair every now and then because of how good he was making her feel.

"O-Oh my g-god," she moans. She felt herself about to cum because of him, he started to pick up pace, barring his face into his clit.

"Hmmm~ do you like it?" Price asked with a smirk as his tongue kept doing its work.

"Y-Yes," she moans. She clenches around his tongue and comes into his mouth.

"Fuck," she says as she leaned back on the counter, Price put her legs on his shoulders and pulled her to the edge of the counter.

"You never fail to taste so fucking sweet."

"I don't even have to try," she smirks.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," He picks her up and takes her to the bathroom and start up a bath for her.

[allywritesforfun]

{Cutebur} Wilbur Soot x Reader

summary: we all saw that instagram post right?

pronouns: not mentioned

word count: 827

trigger warning: swearing

https://www.instagram.com/p/CTkPbffCG90/?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

“Hey that looks like a cool place to take some Instapics!” Wilbur called, pointing at a storage door with skeletons drawn over them.

You nodded, “That would be neat contrast. We got ten minutes to if you want to stop.”

He nodded and sped walked over there. Wilbur wasn't one to take the most aesthetically pleasing pictures. He just asked someone to take a quick shot of him doing something different in his life. But since he met you, well he started caring a little bit more. You taught him a few tips and tricks to making him look like the model he is. You loved helping him out with his social media. He has enough on his plate already.

“Here, darling,” Wilbur handed you his phone as he got into position in front of the door. He fiddled with the bottom of his shirt to make sure that it was perfect while you adjusted the cameras to fit the sunlight. “What poses should I do?”

You shrugged, “It's your Insta, Wil. You do whatever you want. I am just here to make it look decent.” You bent down to one knee, trying to see if you could get neat sun rays filtered in.

You looked up at Wilbur and gave him the thumbs up that you were ready to go. He did his thing while you did yours. You two were the perfect duo. You weren't a professional photographer or anything of the sorts, but you were still pretty damn impressive; and Wilbur was pretty damn impressive to look at. 

You got up from your knee and held the camera slightly above your forehead. It was hard to see what you were taking a picture of, but the angles do matter. Wilbur looked good from all angles but some days he preferred more than his usual. You like to give him variety.

“Work it cutie!” You yelled out to him.

Wilbur smiled at the nickname and looked down for a second, just smiling. He definitely was one for praise. Every little nickname you called him got into his head and displayed itself in a child-like smile.

“Stop looking down and look at me!” You reminded him. If it was one thing that you knew about Instagram, it was the importance of showing your features.

Wilbur continued to smile and looked up at you. His blush was clear as day and he scratched the back of his neck, still calming down from the serotonin rush you gave him. You quick took a picture and brought the phone back down to review it.

It was perfect. You covered your mouth; you were so impressed. You added a quick filter and toned it down, adding a little bit of sharpness and saving it. Wilbur never needed much touch up, he was perfect in every way; it was the background that needed a little help.

You kept staring at the photo; your little angel was so sweet. His innocent smile of happiness, exfoliating his dimples. His soft brown curls swiftly covering his loved-filled deep brown eyes. Best of yet he was all yours. You tucked his phone into your pocket and walked towards him.

“What are you-”

Wilbur was cut off by you wrapping your arms around his torso. He instantly hugged you back, resting his head atop yours. You leaned into him, signaling him to squeeze you tighter. 

“Thank you for letting me love you,” You mumbled into his chest.

You could hear his heart start to speed up, ba, ba, ba. He gently ran his right hand up and down your back and nuzzled into your cheek, “Thank you for coming into my life.” He whispered, “What is this all about?”

You moved your head for that your chin was resting against his chest, looking up at him, “You are so fucking cute. Like-cute doesn't even describe it correctly. Just, whatever good words you can think of, that’s what you are. I just can’t believe I get to go to bed and wake up seeing your beautiful self.”

Wilbur pulled back slightly to kiss your temple, “I could say the same about you.”

You only nodded back. You two stood there for a minute or so, just enjoying each other’s touch. This is one of the rare moments that you two didn't care that you were out in public and looked like some basic couple from a Hallmark movie. Wilbur eventually pulled away, not because he wanted to- no, he wanted this moment to last forever- but because he knew that you weren’t about to give him up.

He placed his hand on your cheek and leaned down to place a forceful and quick kiss on your lips. You tried holding on a little bit longer, but Wilbur softly grabbed your elbows and started to walk away with you.

“I’m guessing you got a good picture?” He asked.

You nodded and took his hand in yours, “The best.”

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hey, I just read your Levi alphabet headcanons and they were so good!! So in relationship to that I was wondering if you could write a sub! Levi fic with a humiliation kink. No pressure, and I love your writing :)

A/N: ah thank you so much! I'm really happy that you like my stuff!! ok sorry this has taken a while but I didn't want to mess this up, I've had so much fun writing this one and it turned out way longer than I expected :) hope you enjoy it!! sub levi is my fav so :P

warnings: nsfw content, d/s dynamic, dom reader, use of 'mistress' but aside from that reader's gender isn't specified, light bondage, crying, humiliation kink :)

You always seemed to know.

You could read him like an open book, and it surprised him every single time. You knew him better than anyone, sometimes better than himself. You could see straight through him, and there was no hiding from that.

Today was no different. It was written in his stiff demeanor, his unusually icy glare, the harsh bite of his words, everything about him expressing that he was on edge much more so than normal. Although he could always relax slightly more when it was just the two of you, today he hadn't yet dropped his cold facade for even a second.

Having had some free time for once in your busy life, you were sat in the armchair in the comfort of your bedroom, nestled in the corner with a book in your hands. Levi had unfortunately been called into a last-minute meeting, much to your dismay, so you waited patiently until he got back.

You heard the slam of the door shutting as he got in and looked up to see him enter, but it was a shock to see the scowl on his face. On any other day the smile you greeted him with would be reciprocated (even if it was only subtle), however that seemed beyond reach considering his bad mood. Your book was quickly discarded.

"Levi? What's wrong?"

Not bothering to look up at you as he roughly tugged his shoes off, he muttered, "Got given a fuck ton of paperwork to finish by the end of the week, plus I've got to watch over the shitty brats from the 104th tomorrow."

You gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry sweetheart. You still have today off though, don't you?"

"Yeah, but if I don't start this work now it won't get finished on time."

"You're going to overwork yourself. Take some time off."

He glared at you, anger smothering his features. "You think it's that easy? You think I don't want a day off? I've got shit to do, I can't just take breaks when I feel like it! Just fuck off and let me work!"

The second the words left his mouth and he saw the way you were looking at him, a wave of guilt washed over him.

"I...I..." He looked away. "Shit..."

Standing from the chair and walking in front of him, you gently took his hand, causing his eyes to flicker up and meet yours. "Levi, look at me. I understand that you're stressed, believe me, but I'm just wary of your wellbeing. You're human too, and even Humanity's Strongest needs a break sometimes." You pressed a finger to his lips when he went to protest. "Think about this logically. If you work non-stop, then you won't be able to concentrate as well, will you? Plus, if you fall behind a little with paperwork, I'm always here to help. I don't mind doing extra if it helps you out. Do you understand?"

"I... don't want to be a burden on you."

"You aren't burdening me if I'm offering."

He nodded, then looked down. "I didn't mean to yell at you." His voice grew smaller, a telltale sign he was nervous. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Levi. I know it wasn't intentional."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, though quickly suppressed it.

"What is it?" You had a vague idea, since the same thing happened quite a lot when he was pent-up, but you wanted to be sure.

"It's nothing."

"Tell me."

"I just thought..." His cheeks got warmer and he mumbled, "Maybe we could try that thing we talked about?"

You cupped his face in your hand. "Are you sure you're up for it at the minute?"

"I need to... I need you to help me let go... just for a bit..."

"Ok then, if you're certain." You kissed his cheek. "I'm going to go and fetch a couple of things, stay put."

Levi stood in the middle of your shared bedroom, hands fidgeting in anticipation as he waited for you to return. This was a jump from what your dynamic usually was, but he desperately wanted to try it and you had happily obliged.

You soon returned, locking the door behind you, holding a neat coil of rope and something else that Levi couldn't quite see.

"This is new for us, so I'm not going to go overboard right away. Is that ok?"

Levi took a deep breath. "Mhm..."

"Remind me what your safe words are."

"Amber to slow down, red to stop everything, and hum the melody if I can't speak."

You smiled. "Good boy."

Placing your equipment on the table beside you, you sat down in the armchair and watched him for a moment, still fidgeting and not quite sure what to do with himself.

"Strip," you commanded, lacing dominance into your tone.

Levi blushed and began taking his clothes off, laying each article on the bed until he was completely naked. He stood before you, feeling incredibly exposed and subtly trying to cover himself.

You shook your head in disapproval. "You know better than that. Hands behind your back."

He hesitantly complied, now unable to hide his rapidly growing arousal, and his face flushed a deeper shade of red.

"Kneel." You gestured to the space in front of you and he followed. "Tell me why we're doing this."

He swallowed nervously. "Because I was mean to you."

"That's right. You took your feelings out on me, so we're going to fix that, hm?"

He nodded.

"Use your words."

"Yes mistress..."

"Good boy." You leaned closer, picking up the thing that Levi hadn't yet seen. "Open your mouth."

He did as you asked and soon found out what the object was. You fastened the ball gag securely and looked down at Levi, smirking at the sight. His eyes were wide as he grew accustomed to the foreign feeling, but he couldn't conceal the interested twitch of his cock in response to it.

"You're so pretty like this. Stand up, turn around, and keep your hands behind your back."

Once again following your directions ever so obediently, you picked up the coil of rope and bound his wrists together, before trailing your fingers over his hips. Levi shivered in arousal and tried not to lean into the touch. You knew how sensitive he was, particularly around that area, so you continued to focus your attention to his hips and his inner thighs; all too soon he was tense and shaking, and the second you pulled away he whined from the loss of contact.

"Patience." You turned him around to face you and leant back in the chair, patting your thigh in invitation. "Come here." He stepped closer, unsure of how to proceed, so you gripped his hips and pulled him down to straddle your leg. He whimpered at the sudden pressure on his cock.

"Do you want to cum tonight, sweetheart?"

Levi nodded eagerly.

"After your behavior today, you're going to have to earn it."

Seeing Levi's curious expression, you stroked one finger up his length, making him buck forwards into your touch.

"You're going to get yourself off on my leg, and I'm going to watch, understood?"

He nodded again, whining as you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"Good. Don't keep me waiting."

Levi wasted no time in grinding down against your thigh, immediately moaning around the gag at the feel of your rough denim jeans against his sensitive cock. It seemed that just having him in such a position was more than enough to get him worked up - your dynamic before had been rather gentle, with only a small power imbalance, so it was a sudden shift to now be in this position, with yourself fully clothed but with Levi naked, bound, and entirely at your disposal.

As you watched Levi rut desperately against you, you thought back to the moment he asked to try this. He told you that he wanted to be used, helpless, humiliated, although he had been rather shy about it to begin with. With the words almost failing to come out, he blushed deeply when you suggested trying it for the first time. You promised it would be a surprise, to keep him on edge with the anticipation and add to the experience when it finally happened, and you certainly hadn't disappointed him if his moans were any indication.

Every thrust of his hips teased him closer to the edge, and as much as you loved to touch Levi usually, this had to be something he did on his own. Knowing that this was all because of his own intense desire, that it wasn't you controlling his movements, that it was his decision to act like a bitch in heat, would only make his feelings of shame more pressing.

You never took your eyes off him for one second, content in the knowledge that it made him feel just that bit more vulnerable, until you glanced at the mirror mounted on the adjacent wall. Levi had clearly forgotten it was there in his pleasure-induced stupor, so you decided that it wouldn't hurt to remind him.

Gripping his chin carefully, you tilted his head to the side so he could see exactly what he looked like in that moment; the mirror was at the perfect angle to reflect every single thing he was doing, all his wanton desperation captured in that perfect image. Although he flushed red in humiliation, he couldn't bring himself to stop his actions, being forced to look himself in the eyes as he rode your leg, and he whimpered in embarrassment as he drooled around the ball gag.

"Look at you, Levi. You're pathetic, aren't you?"

His movements never faltered, but tears began to well up in his eyes as you kept him facing the mirror.

"Imagine if everyone else could see this, hm? Their mighty captain reduced to a needy little slut..."

He sobbed, droplets rolling down his face, and sped up, nearing his high.

"Do you need to cum, Levi?"

A frantic nod in response.

"Do you deserve it? Do you think you've earned it?"

More nodding.

"And you've learnt your lesson?"

A nod and a pitiful whine.

"Very good. Cum for me, Levi."

Tears streaming down his face, Levi moaned as he reached his peak and came with a sharp cry, the sensations all becoming too much for him to bear. He trembled as he came down again, panting and leaning forward to rest his head on your shoulder.

"You've done so well for me, sweetheart," You cooed, reaching behind him to unfasten the gag and untie the rope, putting them both back on the table and taking Levi's hands. He looked up at you and you wiped his tears. "How are you feeling?"

Still catching his breath, he nodded, pressing his forehead against yours. "It... it was really good."

"Not too much?" you questioned, stroking his hair.

"It was perfect... thank you mistress..."

"I'm glad. Now let's get cleaned up, then we can rest. Does that sound alright?"

"Mhm..." Levi smiled lazily and nuzzled against your neck. "As long as I'm with you."

[omg-imagine]

Distraction

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: Johnny distracts V the best way he knows how.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: language, smut (oral + rough sex, choking)

A/N: Please don’t mind the weak plot, this was just an excuse to write p*rn featuring the only character I want to romance in the game but can’t. Also, for the sake of this fic, let’s just say he can touch V and vice versa :)) Hope you enjoy!

V was pissed.

No, she was beyond pissed.

And when V’s beyond pissed, she’s sure to let the whole fucking world know.

“Tone it down, princess,” Johnny cuts in once he’s heard enough of her long-winded rant.

V stops her relentless pacing around the apartment and shoots a menacing glare towards the rocker.

“I warned you not to take that job from the start. Now, look at you, bruised up from head to toe, and cheated out of your eddies.”

“That son of a bitch promised me half the cut,” V recalls bitterly, her chest heaving from the fierce anger spreading all throughout. “I’m gonna make sure Cruz regrets asking me for help.”

The merc stalks off to her stash, muttering low under her breath how she plans on raising hell the next time she crosses paths with him. As V polishes her guns (something she typically does to calm herself), Johnny approaches the small room to the side with the same cocky attitude that would surely piss her off even more.

He can’t help himself at times; he sure does love pushing V’s buttons.

“You done whining or what?”

Rolling her eyes, V turns her head to see Johnny standing there as he takes a drag on his cigarette. Normally, she doesn’t mind him smoking around her, but after an exhausting night where things didn’t work out in her favor, she was quickly reaching her boiling point. “You better clean up all that ash on the floor when you’re done.”

“Since when did you start caring about this shithole of an apartment being neat?” Johnny comments, more so as a tease, and this earns him another scowl. “Don’t waste your energy on Cruz. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“Didn’t know you believed in karma,” V adds, narrowing her eyes.

Devilishly, he smirks at her, tossing the cigarette butt to the floor then crushing it with his shoe. “Hon, there’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me.”

“Yeah,” she agrees before brushing past Johnny. “I’m heading out.”

His figure glitches momentarily, reminding V that he was nothing but a ghost residing in her mind, despite how real he feels. Even if she wants to leave this “shithole of an apartment” for some semblance of peace and quiet, she knows Johnny will only follow. He’s tethered to her for what could possibly be the rest of her life.

And yet, no matter how big of an asshole Silverhand was, she’s grown fond of his presence.

Not that she would mention it out loud. Ever.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” V simply states, wondering what the point in Johnny asking her that question when he could easily find it out for himself was.

It’s truly unfair how he can read her thoughts, but she can’t read any of his.

He chuckles low. “Gon’ pay a joy toy to fuck tonight?”

“No, I’m going out for a drive, distract myself from that shitshow earlier. You better leave me alone.”

“Well, I’m a little insulted,” Johnny snorts, feigning offense. “I thought you liked my company.”

“I’m tired of your company. You never shut that mouth of yours.”

Before V could head to the door, she feels a metal hand encircling her wrist, holding her in place. She glances behind her, meeting Johnny’s deep, dark eyes, which hid a multitude of secrets. It’s been a while since she has felt a touch that wasn’t full of malice. Though his palm is cold from the material it’s made out of, a distinct heat spreads through her body—

It was a familiar warmth, one that radiates from V at his mere touch.

And when Johnny’s lips curl into a shit-eating grin, she knows that he has sensed it too.

“Shut my mouth? I think I can do something else much better than that.”

Johnny’s gravelly voice fuels the desire burning deep within V as he pulls her closer, her feet moving at their own accord. “God, I wish you came with an off-switch.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this little game we’ve been playing.”

V doesn’t respond, her pulse quickening with anticipation. She lets out a shuddering moan when Johnny leans in, his hot breath grazing her silky skin before his lips crash against hers, possessively. He floods V’s senses all at once as he hungrily kisses her, letting him take the reins.

It would be a lie for V to say she’s never pictured a moment like this. A moment where she finally succumbs to Johnny’s charm and allows him to lay claim on her. It’s always been a constant dance between the two, a chemistry disguised as indifference, a craving left unspoken. Amidst the degrading insults and the snarky attitudes, deep down, they have always wanted the same thing—

To fuck each other’s brains out.

“Still tired of my company, V?”

“Just shut the fuck up for once and take off your pants.”

The grin on his face hasn’t disappeared. It only grows broader. “Ask, and you shall receive.”

Johnny roughly grabs V at the waist, his fingers curling underneath the hem of her shirt as he pushes her towards the bed. His mouth latches onto her neck, no doubt marking her for all of Night City to see.

They fell onto the mattress without finesse, similar to how V kisses Johnny feverishly, all tongue and teeth. Void of tenderness and only driven by the urgency of lust. She was too distracted by her want to care for the taste of tobacco from his last smoke. The hands traveling every inch of V’s frame lights up a fire in her, bringing a high that no drug on the black market could ever do.

Surprisingly, Johnny allows her to take the lead for a bit when she straddles him, his hardening cock pressing up against her aching cunt. She gages his reaction as she grinds on his clothed erection, a wicked smile forming to the sight of him being teased.

“You like that, huh? Fuck, I can’t wait to have you inside of me.” She feels herself growing wetter and wetter, losing patience just as swiftly as the man under her.

Without warning, Johnny flips them both over, the length of his body now pressed against hers from above. He wastes no time peeling V’s shirt and bra off, pausing for the briefest of seconds to admire her bare breasts. His cybernetic hand squeezes one soft mound as his lips descend on the other. She moans, and they were pure music to his ears, sounds that were so beautiful he could write endless songs about them.

“J-Johnny,” V stutters out his name, unable to contain herself anymore. She doesn’t remember the last time someone has quickly reduced her into a mess, and desperately she wanted, needed more.

The way his name trembles from her mouth drives Johnny into a frenzy, simpering at the fact he really hasn’t done much yet, but it was enough to leave V quivering. She looks too sinful beneath Johnny, too delectable. He’s well-aware of how long she’s gone without sex, and he’s now bent on ending that sad streak of hers.

Hastily, Johnny removes V’s pants and underwear in one quick go, his gaze devouring her beauty like a starved man staring at his meal. “Wow, you’re fucking drenched down there.”

“Fuck,” she gasps, one hand reaching forward to grip at his lengthy locks as soon as he delves in to taste her dripping nectar for the first time.

“You enjoying yourself there, baby?” Johnny’s inquiry needs no response. He could already tell she is solely by the way her eyes flutter shut, her head lolling to the side.

One lick. Two licks. Three. He surely knew how to work that deft tongue of his.

Johnny’s cock continues to throb in the confines of his trousers as his lips encircle V’s swollen bud, but he doesn’t end there. She wants more, and he’s willing to give her just that.

More.

V squirms when two chrome fingers enter her heat, stretching out her walls to prepare her for the serious pounding coming up. She’s lost in the sensations, unable to form a coherent thought or word. Johnny’s tempo was slow at first; tantalizing, nearly torturous. But once he starts moving faster, pumping even harder and reaching that sweet, sweet spot of hers, she begins to pant wildly as she fucks herself on his hand to get more friction.

“Holy shit, you’re a goddess,” he croaks after pulling back to study the needy woman looking back at him through half-lidded eyes. V is tight around his fingers, and he could only imagine how it would be like with his cock buried deep inside her instead.

Each rough stroke of Johnny’s digits against her wet walls brought V closer and closer to the brink of orgasm, her moans increasing in both volume and frequency. He urges her to let go, whispering into her ear how he wants to see and feel her coming. The gruffness in his tone turned her on even more, and V soon finds herself falling over the precipice, flushing hot with euphoria as Johnny watches, awestruck.

Satisfied, he beams at his work, which was only half of what he intends to do this evening. Being gracious, Johnny gives V an ample minute to recover, using the downtime to wipe the glistening wetness coating his beard before tasting the juices he’s collected.

Delicious, he thinks. She tastes as good as she looks.

V eventually comes back to her senses, propping herself up on her elbows as she gazes at Johnny with an almost dazed expression. “Perhaps the rumors are actually true.”

“Which one?” Silverhand asks, ridding himself of his clothes at the foot of her bed.

V pauses prior to answering, the sound of metal clinking filling the air as he unbuckles his belt, stripping off his leather pants afterwards.

“That you’re the best pussy eater in town,” she then reveals, glancing up briefly to see the smug look on his face before her gaze falls to his groin again.

Of course, Johnny chooses to go commando, and no, she wasn’t shocked at all.  

Silently, she marvels at the dick nestled in a thick bush of dark hair. Girthy and long with a slight curve upwards, the thought of it being inside her, barely fitting, made her mouth water. He wasn’t lying when he casually mentioned having an impressive cock.

It definitely did not disappoint.

“Oh sweetheart, that was nothing,” Johnny declares before climbing back on top of V, settling in between her legs. “The main act is just beginning.”

She doesn’t wait for Johnny to kiss her. In an instant, V’s lips were on his, her tongue pushing into his mouth, faintly tasting herself at the same time. Meanwhile, Johnny grips the base of his leaking cock, rubbing its engorged head against her slick folds that had her breathing heavily. V cants her hips impatiently, and through their kiss, he chuckles at her eagerness.

“So desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” Johnny husks mockingly. “How badly do you want me, slut? I wanna hear you say it.”

A moan escapes her throat at his words as he rubs his tip against her clit. V wants him so, so bad that she’s begging incessantly, something she never does in any of her past fucks. Usually, she was in complete control, never the one to relinquish her power.

Maybe that was the reason why V was utterly drunk with pleasure from this steamy session with Johnny. It’s good not to be in control for once.

“Shit, Johnny. Please, just fuck me already. Fill me up,” V pleads, now helpless at this point. She has to come again, this time around his cock. She repeats her keening over and over again, hoping that it was enough to feed into Johnny’s ego and finally show her mercy.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Tugging at his cock, Johnny forces V’s legs to spread wider as she waits for him, mesmerized. Her pussy was soaked from his ministrations, but when he starts pushing into V, the burning stretch of her walls trying to accommodate his thick length leaves her in tears.

Those tears, however, weren’t entirely from the pain. V was also shedding tears because of how full Johnny makes her feel.

“Fucking hell, V,” he groans as she clamps down on him. “You’re so fucking tight. Damn, why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“We were too busy pretending to hate each other,” V replies, digging her nails into Johnny’s back when he begins to move.

His thrusts are slow but rough— as if he’s getting accustomed to the wondrous feeling of being inside of V. It doesn’t last long, though. Johnny has always been a hard and fast kind of guy, the one that does two or three more rounds before passing out. He’s bragged about his amazing stamina as well, and despite V believing she could match it, she probably won’t be able to tonight.

Not when he’s fucking her into the mattress like this for their very first time together.

Johnny’s brutal pace doesn’t falter. He pounds into V harder, faster, rougher; as if his life depends on it, the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh bouncing off every corner of the room. His slick pre-come mixes with her honeyed essence, allowing him to seamlessly reach the depths of her center. Sweat drips down the side of his face as he maneuvers his mechanical hand to wrap around V’s delicate neck, adding pressure when she doesn’t resist.

“That’s it, baby,” Johnny growls next to her ear, rolling his hips as he squeezes her throat tighter. “You’re making me feel so good. I’ve always known you were a dirty whore.”

V’s gasping and thrashing, but she doesn’t want him to stop. She loves the rush of blood through her head far too much, especially with Johnny slamming harshly into her. It gives her a thrill she has never experienced with anyone else. Pretty sure he’s ruining her for others.

But whether this was part of his intentions or not, V doesn’t know. Nor she cares enough to figure it out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me, V. Look at you, taking all of my cock like the fucking slut you are. You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? You practically dream about me every night, and don’t you deny it.”

She doesn’t. Johnny was right, though it doesn’t really matter at this very second. His hold on V loosens for her to speak, and she inhales as much air her lungs could possibly take. She could feel it again, the ultimate high she’s been chasing once more. Johnny’s shaft dragging against her pulsing walls brings her even closer to it, building up the pleasure rising in the pit of her stomach.

“I-I’m close,” V warns, the pressure inside her threatening to break free. “Shit, Johnny, I’m gonna come soon.”

Johnny’s hips jerked harder, causing V to cry out. “Yeah? You’re gonna come? Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure you come on my cock.”

Halting, he drapes her left leg over his shoulder, allowing him to slide in deeper than he has before. Johnny then pushes his metallic thumb into V’s mouth, and without prompt, she swirls her tongue around it, coating it with her saliva. Not missing a beat, his movement resumes, all bruising and all punishing. He brings his wetted finger on her sensitive pearl, stroking it as if he’s playing his guitar on stage.

The change in angle proves to be the final straw for V, who’s litany of high-pitch moans spurs Johnny to fuck her even more forcefully. Again and again, she takes everything he gives her, and in turn, she encourages him to follow her into the abyss. Her pussy caresses his cock with every frantic push and pull, and she notices how he’s gradually picking up speed, losing his rhythm in the process.

“Your cunt belongs to mine now,” Johnny mutters, gritting his teeth, and it’s becoming clear to V that he’s holding back just for her. “Come on, V. Let go, let go for me.”

Lust-blown eyes lock with V’s own, wordlessly urging her one last time to come undone. Several sharp thrusts later, she finds herself clenching around Johnny’s cock, her orgasm shooting through her like a rain of bullets. Unabashedly, V shouts as her vision whitens, intense waves of ecstasy washing over her shaking body. She’s too absorbed in bliss to realize right away that Johnny was still in her, dick hard and ready for a similar release.

Once she finds her bearings, V grinds her hips against Johnny’s, and immediately, his nails dig into her as he begins to move inside her yet again.

“Don’t stop, Johnny,” she purrs, watching him fuck her with both fast and long strokes. “I want you to cum deep inside me, baby. Shit, I want it so badly. Please, give it to me. Please…”

With a strained moan, Johnny suddenly climaxes, snarling as he shoots searing ropes of his thick, creamy cum into V, painting her inner walls with white. His features contort with pleasure as he throws his head back, his breathing shallow and ragged. When his heart rate returns somewhat back to normal, he slowly pulls his softening cock out, smirking at the sight of his load dripping out of her.

Afterwards, he flops down beside V with a huff, joining her as she stares blankly up at the ceiling. Johnny clears his throat as he shifts closer to V, who instinctively rests her head on his chest. His cyber arm curls around her, and she sighs deeply, seemingly content.

“How about that for a fucking distraction?” He says, recalling how the two of them got here in the place. “Don’t even have to go on a ride to clear your mind. Feel free to ride me instead.”

V laughs at his jest. “It was a great fuck, the best one I’ve ever had if I’m honest. But I’m still going after Cruz.”

Johnny hums in response, seeing V’s weary eyes growing heavier. “Fine, but just to let you know, what happened between us isn’t a one-time thing.”

“Fuck, I hope not. You’re stuck with me till the end of the world, buddy.”

“It’s a good thing you have an amazing pussy then.”

V smacks him lightly as exhaustion begins to take over. Sure, she was still pissed she didn’t get her eddies, but at least now she knows the prick named Johnny Silverhand was surprisingly a cuddler.

And that piece of information was worth gold.

Permanent Tags:   @penwieldingdreamer @keandrews @feminine-machinegun @fanficsrusz @thehumanistsdiary @flaminasteroid @rowserein​ @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​ @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

[some-kindofgnome]

for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to. 

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki​ for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖 

Happy New Year, everyone. 

(MASTERLIST) 

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”  

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.  

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.  

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything—”

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

“Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin’ pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”  

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”

[lottiebagleywritesobx]

Love Language

At the time they'd made it the language had felt like no one would ever be able to understand it.

They were only 9 and JJ had been granted permission to stay at her house, her parents used to be around a lot, although they weren't anymore, and they'd always welcomed her blonde best friend leading to his near constant presence at their home.

It was late for two kids, maybe 10 pm, and they'd been wrapped in blankets in her box sized room that felt so much bigger when they were young.

They always got each other in a way no one else understood for reasons way more complex than a secret language they would use to write each other messages, but at 9, all they needed to know was that the language was another thing that tied them together.

It was simple: to spell a word you combine the first letters of the other words.

So to write Hello  you would write Hungry Elephants Love Lollipops Okay

It had stuck a lot at first, they used it everyday and it drove Pope and John B insane, but as they got older it died out.

It was used a few times at 12 when they had an annoying teacher who made students read notes out if they were caught passing them, to everyone else it sounded like gibberish.

It was used once at 15, the world help spelled out when an older Kook boy wouldn't leave her alone and she knew he was reading her phone screen over her shoulder, not wanting to trigger him.

Now, at 17, she had laughed out loud when she'd unfolded the note tucked into her locker.

In JJ's scrawl that only she could read with ease.

 Ukraine

Rollercoaster

Penguin Ranch Eyelash Tractor Tangerine Yoghurt

You are pretty. She blushed a little, looking around for any sign of the familiar blonde boy but he was nowhere to be seen, she tucked the note into her bag, hating the way he made her heart race, before shoving the books she didn't need over the weekend into her locker and walking down the corridor and out of the front doors.

When she arrived at the twinkie her friends were already there "Took your time," John B smirks from his open window, occupying the front seat

"She was probably busy flirting with Mack," Sarah teases from the passenger side

"For the last time Sarah, he just needed tutoring in bio,"

"You are shit at bio," Sarah smirks even wider

"Better than you sweetheart," The girl grins, climbing into the back and diving out of Sarah's reach as she moves to try and flick her. Both girls laughing loudly

"I'll get the door then," Pope chides

"Thanks P, i can't get too close  or Sarah will attack me," She grins, Pope rolls his eyes but sends her a grin as he leans forwards to pull the door to the twinkie closed.

She moves through the seats to her usual space, she always sat next to JJ, no matter what. They could be drinking at the chateau, relaxing at the beach, adventuring on the boat. No matter what they were next to each other. It wasn't uncommon when one of them was feeling tired, or clingy, or touch starved for her to end up in his lap, his arms wrapped around her stomach and his chin on her shoulder.

She leans up pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, it wasn't uncommon in their friendship, often used as a greeting, a thanks or even just out of the blue, and so the other's don't think anything of it even though JJ feels himself melting into a puddle. What is a little different though is the way she grabs his hand giving it a tight squeeze before pulling her own away and settling down in her seat as John B starts up the van. He knows what it is. It's a silent thanks for the note, not wanting to say anything in front of their friends but it was a sign she got it and she was grateful for it.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder, his touch gentle but Pope gives him a knowing look, the touch is supposed to claim her. She either doesn't notice or  doesn't seem to mind though, instead leaning into his now open side as she chats happily with Kie.

**

It's monday morning and JJ is in first period history. He fucking hates history, yet, it had become his favourite subject simply because it was the only one all 6 pogues shared. He opens his school bag with sigh, placing the textbook on his desk and starting to fish around the bottom of the bag for a loose pen.

Pope turns around from the seat in front of him, placing a pen on his desk with a knowing smile. JJ drops his bag to the floor, opening the text book only for a note to fall out.

Her neat writing fills the page and the smile on his face is immediate.

Umbrella

Rocket

Happy Ant Neck Drop Surf Olive Mars Egg

JJ tries to ignore the feeling of a red hot blush creeping up his neck as he turns to look at the next desk along, she's already looking at him with a smirk shooting him a week before turning to face the front, god if JJ can't feel himself falling.

**

It continues for weeks.

Tucked into the wind screen wiper of her old shitty truck.

Taped to the sandwiches she would bring him to lunch.

On her pillow when she went to bed one night.

Stuffed into the pocket of the hoodie she borrowed.

Her school bag.

The bathroom mirror at the chateau.

They both started to home a large collection of notes. Her's placed neatly in a drawer in her bedroom. His tucked in a box under the floor board that lifts up in the room he claims as his at the chateau.

**

"What you writing?" John B questions as he steps onto the porch

"Just a note for y/n,"

"You guys have been passing a lot of secret notes recently," John B comments, JJ shrugs placing the pen down "It's sweet,"

"What d'ya mean by that?" JJ questions, John raises his eyebrows giving JJ a knowing look before having a realisation.

"You still haven't told her you're head over heels in love with her?"

"No," JJ admits, he was way past his days of fighting back when his friends accused him of being in love with her. "I don't know how to. You know me, I never say things right and I just- I really don't want to fuck this up. Only got one shot at it,"

"So write it," John B shrugs like it's obvious

"I can't,"

"You can,"

"What if she doesn't feel the same?"

"JJ, you're the most annoying person I know and she puts up with you all the time and has done since you were 2 . She feels the same,"

**

She's only wearing a bikini and a tshirt that belongs to JJ when she exits her house on Saturday morning. Her plans to meet at the Chateau go surfing with Kie already made, she grabs her board and at first she doesn't even notice it, attached to the cool box full of water and fruit she'd loaded up the night before is a note.

Ice

Art Magic

Igloo Note

London Orange Venus Elephant

Wine Ill Tiger Hungry

Yam One Under

It takes less than a minute for her to decipher the note, abandoning her surf board and the cooler in favour of sprinting to the Cheateau.

JJ is seemingly waiting for her when she arrives, he's pacing in front of the house, going still the second he sees her.

"Are you kidding?" She questions, he's stares, eyes wide not quite able to process why she looks so hopeful. "Because JJ, if this is some fucked up joke I will literally never speak to you again,"

"It's not a joke," He assures

"It's not?" She questions, it's het turn to still, having expected to arrive for him to laugh and ruffle her hair like he was her brother.

"No. I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since we were 12 and you stole my cap and started wearing it everyday,"

"We were 14 and you snuck into my room because my parents were fighting and you read harry potter to me cause you knew my parents used to," She states

He nods, now it was all out there in the open neither of them quite knew what to do.

"For fucks sake kiss already!" Pope shouts, they turn seeing all the pogues watching them from the porch.

JJ looks at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. "Just promise me if this all goes tits up we will be friends, cause I can't loose you maybank,"

He holds his pinky out, smiling as she loops her with his and squeezes slightly. He pulls her into his chest with their pinkies. Lips crashing onto hers, spare holding her closer to him by the small of her back. Her empty hand moving to play with the blonde curls she's wanted to run her fingers through a thousand times. Their pinkies stay linked by their side, his thumb stroking at her hands lightly.

Yeah, she'd be keeping the note he left in there little love language.

[meigh-day]

Meet Cute (Tendou x F!Reader)

Title: Meet Cute

Pairing: Tendou x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff!

Status: Complete

Word Count: 2.1k

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"I can do this..." You mumble to yourself, eyes focused on the single page menu in your hands. The words scrawled across the page wanted to seem familiar but only a couple managed to find their meaning while the rest just sat there taunting you. Maybe choosing to eat out was a bad idea. It had been only a couple of weeks since you'd uprooted your whole life and moved to beautiful Paris. Sure, your apartment wasn't the prettiest or the biggest and yea maybe not actually speaking a word of French prior to moving wasn't the brightest idea but you couldn't say you regretted the decision. Not yet anyway. A kind looking waitress approached your table, pen poised to take your order as she spoke to you. Her words came quick and left you staring up at her with an awkward smile while she stared at you, expectantly at first and then confused when you said nothing.

"Oh... uh... un moment..." Is all you finally manage to stammer out in your very limited French. She sighs a bit but nods and disappears back inside, leaving you to stare a bit longer at the menu as you worry your lip between your teeth. With a sigh you place the menu flat on the table. Resting your chin in your palm as you stare out at the bustling street before you. People wandered by, laughing with friends, arms full of shopping or flowers, hands intertwined as soft words passed between them. It seemed familiar in a way, watching others pass by on their way to or from some place. Yet, that familiarity only seemed to make you feel all the more alienated, amplifying that feeling of loneliness that was starting to creep up on you. You let out a soft hum of acknowledgement, your train of thought derailing immediately after as you realize someone was talking to you and you'd absentmindedly acknowledged them.

"Ah, sorry!" You sit up, turning your attention towards the source. An amused smile greets you as a pair of sharp red eyes catch your own. For a moment you sit stunned, mind stuck on one word: pretty. A short chuckle brings you back and you clear your throat as you try to think of something, anything to say to this stranger. "Uhm... Ah... P-pardonner monsieur." You offer up a stammered apology, though you aren't sure if you are sorry for not hearing what he said or for deciding to grace this café and the city with your inadequate French. Both maybe?

He laughs and shakes his head before pointing to the seat across from you as if to ask permission. You nod, offering him a somewhat nervous smile as you watch him take a seat. He was tall and thin with the prettiest red hair you had ever seen. He squints his eyes at you a moment before plucking the menu from the table and reading it over. With nothing else to occupy your attention, you watched him, curious why he had decided to approach a complete stranger.

"Hmm, do you like sweet stuff?" He questioned, eyes peering at you from atop the menu, not a hint of French accent in a single syllable.

You smile and nod, humming in affirmation before your eyes widen. "Wait... You speak... You're not..." A sigh of relief passes your lips as you relax in your chair, grateful to not have to stammer and stutter through the minimal French you'd managed to remember. The red headed man snickered at your obvious relief, hiding his smirk behind the menu.

"Geez, you poor thing. I admire your courage."

"Courage?"

"Yea. I didn't try my hand at dining out for like the first 2 or 3 months." He lowered the menu, his smirk now visible to you as he placed the menu back down on the table.

"Oh, heh, yea probably not the smartest move. It just smelled really good and my stomach overruled my brain."

He nodded, almost as if to say he understood the feeling before glancing back up at you. "I know we just met and all but do you trust me?" He taps the menu as he asks, indicating the reason behind his question.

"I might be inclined to trust you a little more if I knew your name..." You chuckle, watching his eyes widen in the realization that not a single word of introduction had passed between you. The smirk that had been on his lips is replaced by a sweet smile, his squinted red eyes soften as his whole express shifts from that slightly mischievous one he'd been wearing to a rather warm one.

"Ah, yea. It's Tendou, Tendou Satori."

Several minutes later, introductions now over and your order placed by the very gracious man before you, you two sat chatting back and forth. Both curious what had brought each of you to Paris, almost equally as unprepared. You found out Tendou was attending school to get his associates degree in bakery and pastry arts with the intent on training to become a chocolatier after. You stared at him, eyes wide with excitement as he spoke very animatedly about his latest project.

"But yea, not super exciting or anything." His own excitement dwindled a bit, nervousness settling in as he realized he'd been prattling on about himself for the last ten minutes.

"That sounds incredible!" You finally say. It had been so fun watching and hearing him talk about something he clearly loved.

"What about you?"

"Me? Ah..." The main reason you'd come to Paris was school. Well that's what you told people when asked and it was true. Though you couldn't deny to yourself the underlying reason for moving halfway across the word was to get away from your family. They had wanted you to stay local, go to college and work at your uncles company when you graduated. What a nicely planned future, all neat and packaged with a bow. It wasn't what you wanted though and you expressed that on many occasions. In the end you decided that if you were going to go to school for what you wanted you might as well do it as far away as possible while you were at it. Not wanting to unpack any of that though you gave him a very watered down version of why you'd come to Paris.

Tendou could tell as you spoke that something was missing from your story. Maybe it was the way your eyes shifted around as you spoke, or the stiff smile on your lips, but it was clear to him you maybe weren't telling the whole truth. Though considering he was more or less a perfect stranger, he couldn't fault you for that. Just as you were wrapping up your food arrived so any further talk regarding your coming to Paris halted in favor of eating whatever deliciousness Tendou had kindly ordered.

"Ah, that was so good." You breath out happily, leaning back in your chair in an effort to alleviate the fullness in your stomach. Tendou gave you a wide grin as he set his empty cup down. "I did a pretty good job guessing at what you'd like then?"

"Mhm!" You agree enthusiastically. "God knows what I would have ordered if not for you. So.. uh..." You sit up a bit, fixing your eyes on him as your smile softens. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

He shakes his head, waving off your gratitude. "Nah don't worry about it." The waitress comes back around and leaves the bill, just the one, but before you can even think about how to fix this, Tendou has paid for the both of you.

"Oh no you don't have.. "

"Consider it a welcome to Paris gift." He stands and smiles down at you before slowly turning, a bit of reluctance in his step.

This was not how you had anticipated your lunch going. If anything you thought you might order something, hopefully delicious but at the very least edible, in your awful broken French and then go home. You couldn't fathom you'd end up meeting someone so kind and generous, who you maybe also thought happened to be the most beautiful person you'd ever seen. Yet you had, and now you were sat in your chair like a complete idiot watching his back grow smaller and smaller, he'd be lost in the crowd by now if not for his lovely hair.

"What am I doing?!" You harshly mutter to yourself as you stand, grabbing up your jacket and bag before breaking out into a run.

Tendou chewed on his lip as his feet carried him away from the small café. It wasn't like it was totally unusual for him to talk to strangers but he'd never just invited himself to eat with a complete stranger, pay for their meal and then leave. Yet here he was, having done all that, though the latter was being done rather reluctantly. Part of him wanted to turn around and go back to you. You'd only spent the better part of an hour together but he was curious about you. There was something that had drawn him towards you. At first he thought he'd gone to you out of the desire to help, and that was part of it to be sure, but maybe there was more to it. Sure your wobbly French had drawn him over but that wasn't why he stayed. Was it the way you had smiled up at him? Or was it the way you sat and listened to him ramble on with actual interest? Perhaps it was the gentle look on your face when he'd caught you staring off into space. Whatever it was, it had his already slow pace halting.

"Tendou!" His eyes widen at the shout of his name, turning to see you waving at him as you run, reaching him a moment later half out of breath.

"Miss me already?" He jokes, watching as you lean down, bracing your hands against your thighs while you attempt to catch your breath. He isn't kept waiting long as you stand upright, a nervous chuckle finally coming out in response to his initial reply.

"Kinda, yea."

"I-- uh... What?" Tendou falters as he tries to process what you just said, not trusting his ears.

"I know we really don't know each other but it seems like such a shame to just... ignore this."

"Ignore what?" He asks, genuinely confused.

"This!" You state as you frantically motion between the two of you. "I mean what're the odds we'd even meet. Besides, I don't know about you but I don't really know anyone around here and it'd be really nice to change that..." You end with a shrug, starting to second guess this whole endeavour as you watch Tendou stare down at you. His dark red eyes were wide at first, surprised that you had even bothered to run after him but even more so that you wanted to be...well friends or at the very least friendly. His look of surprise softened a moment, a smile on his lips before he narrowed his eyes at you, a glint of mischief in them.

"Sounds pretty suspicious to me but I suppose I can show you around or whatever." His smile widens, almost curling at the ends. "But it'll cost ya."

"C-cost me?" Oh no, maybe this was a bad idea. Perfect stranger remember?! "W-what?"

"Whoa now." He chuckles, holding his hands up in as if the action would ward off whatever dubious thoughts were drifting through your mind. "Just your number... It'd be pretty hard to show you around if I can't get a hold of ya."

"Oh... OH, yea right." You nod, cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment. You pull out your phone and enter his details, not really sparing him a glance, too mortified by the assumptions that had sprung to mind.

"I'll text you so you have my number too." You mumble as you type a short message and hit send. A moment later you hear a ding and Tendou pulls out his phone.

"Ah, is that the time?!" He practically yells as the screen lights up, his carefree smile replaced with panic. "Shit, I gotta go!" He offers you an apologetic smile before hurrying away, leaving you a little startled by his sudden departure but overall happy with the outcome. Your grin down at your phone only to see it light up as it buzzes in your hand.

(02:37pm) Y/N: Hey it's Y/N :)

(02:41pm) Tendou: You Free tomorrow?

[aeonghaseyo]

Your Trace, My Treasure

Summary: Marc and Nathaniel write and draw, respectively, on each others' notebooks because it's DEFINITELY a couple thing to do.

Word Count: 2105 AO3 link

Relationship/s: Nathaniel Kurtzberg/Marc Anciel Category: M/M Characters: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel, Alix Kubdel (mentioned), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (mentioned), Juleka Couffaine (mentioned), Rose Lavillant (mentioned), Alya Cesaire (mentioned) Language used: English Author's Note: The creators of MLB really need to give the side characters screen time. The love square isn't the only romantic set of ships in the show and there are much more cute ships to write about. And so in my first time of writing a Miraculous Ladybug fanfic, it's about a ship that's entirely not part of the love square. This is my final workshop output from a creative writing class I enrolled in during the summer to get units in advance. Special thanks to my professor and two of my classmates for their feedback; I couldn't have made this work even more wonderful without their help. For the non-love-square ship and this being a successful workshop output thus far, I think I'm gonna give myself a pat on the back and more fanfic ideas to write. :)

Compared to the courtyard at Françoise Dupont High School where the lively chattering of students can be heard and the scrambling of footsteps were a staple, the art room was its own entire world of silence.

It was supposed to be a calming silence in that same art room where Marc and Nathaniel were to work on art-related endeavors of their own, but the former found this unwelcoming and rather deafening. It weighed down on his being that the atmosphere was unbearably awkward, much like he was most of the time even before he met Nathaniel and became his partner in creating comic books about Ladybug, Chat Noir, and their akumatized alter-egos who turned good and served as part of the superhero duo’s akuma-fighting team. Despite a remarkable development from being acquaintances, to newfound partners, and now to a bloomed romantic couple, Marc Anciel, as awkward as ever and still testing the waters on this newfound relationship, couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of inadequacy as someone’s significant other.

It just goes to show him that even though his romantic feelings for Nathaniel had been reciprocated at Day 0, it does not remove the remaining unease that Marc currently feels at Day 1. It was his first time in a relationship, and it was with the boy whose drawings he admired so much from the school paper. Simply put, it was too good to be true.

Unfortunately, the awkwardness Marc felt wasn’t masked enough, and Nathaniel immediately noticed from his place by the table beside his raven-haired beau. How could he not? It was very obvious, from the way Marc’s hand shakily distorted his usually refined, elegant script while writing the next chapter of their comic to the way his expression was contorted as if he was constipated. Nathaniel thought to himself that it was still an adorable sight, but clearly, something was up, and it wouldn’t do well to just ignore whatever troubled his beloved partner. Attempting to break the ice, the redhead cleared his throat, then spoke to call Marc’s attention.

“Marc.”

The novelist jolted in surprise at the utterance of his name. “Y-yes, Nathaniel?”

Leaning in for a better view of the page Marc was writing on, Nathaniel replied, “Your handwriting’s different.”

“W-wait, really?” blurted out Marc, quickly covering the page with his gloved hand. “I d-didn’t know you were p-particular with handwriting.”

Nathaniel placed a gentle, caring hand on his boyfriend’s with a smile aimed directly at him as he clarified himself, “It’s not that, Marc. I’ve seen it and it’s great. Right now, it just looks… wobbly. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Even if Nathaniel was a recluse in his own class, he could very well read into the emotions of people, but he doesn’t show it that often. As endearing as it was as a show of concern towards shy Marc, it was also overwhelming for the raven-haired novelist to have been the subject of such deep perception, even from the boy his heart palpitates for.

It was then that Marc’s fight or flight response reminded him in a split-second that he needed some sort of diversion for Nathaniel not to remind him of his own awkwardness.

“Isn’t it weird that our art teacher didn’t come here?” Marc rapidly questioned as he struggled not to look at the red-haired boy beside him. Despite this attempt to keep Nathaniel’s focus off of his disposition, glancing towards the door and not at Nathaniel did not help stop the blood from rushing to the novelist’s fair cheeks. His partner might be tired of this, of him, already, but that light chuckle of pure amusement coming from Nathaniel disproved that thought.

“Hey, hey, settle down Marc,” chided Nathaniel, “he might be running late. It’s okay for us to use the art room so long as it’s reserved around this time. Good thing that he reserved it at an earlier time than usual.”

With innocent green eyes, the raven-haired boy looked his boyfriend in the eye and asked, “H-he can do that?”

“Of course, he can. Let’s just wait for him, okay?” reassured Nathaniel, his left hand making its way on Marc’s right shoulder discreetly. “I’m sure my other classmates will arrive here shortly too.”

A shy smile emerged from Marc’s face as he replied, “Okay, Nath.”

Suddenly, a ringtone from the phone which was in Nathaniel’s pocket sounded audibly enough to catch both the boys’ attention. The redhead immediately fished out the device from his pocket and unlocked it, revealing three unread text messages from his close friend Alix.

Hey Nath! Something came up and I couldn’t swing by the art room. Love troubles again with Marinette. Juleka and Rose are also helping out with me so they can’t come.

I can’t believe that Marinette got invited personally by Adrien to his photoshoot but she can’t even give him her handmade gift or ask him out. Because she’s such a wuss, I got dragged here in the park by Rose because Mari needs all of her girl friends to push her towards Golden Boy Agreste YET AGAIN.

And apparently Alya alone couldn’t do it. Sorry! You’ll have Marc to keep you company anyway. Have fun! ;)

So much for those girls coming over to the art room. Nathaniel let out a sigh as he muttered, just enough for Marc to hear, “I stand corrected. The others aren’t coming.”

Catching on his partner’s crest-fallen demeanor and gazing at his face with sympathetic green orbs, Marc replied, “Guess it’s just the two of us for now.”

The next minutes were spent in silence again, with Marc continuing to finish a paragraph while Nathaniel sketched a bird’s eye view of the Eiffel tower as the background in one panel of the comic storyboard in his notebook. After several minutes elapsed, however, curiosity got the best of Marc, and so, with the tip of his pen lingering on the period of his last sentence, he kept on glancing at Nathaniel and the storyboarding he was working on. Besides the sheer focus that was evident in Nathaniel’s turquoise orbs, the shy novelist couldn’t help but notice the fine, steady strokes his beau’s hand were making with his fine-pointed mechanical pencil. So neat, so pristine. It’s amazing how he didn’t need an eraser to erase certain portions of his drawings over and over.

Marc had seen artist sketches himself of both people and objects, mostly done by his friend Marinette. As someone aspiring to become a fashion designer, she would be engrossed in sketching designs day by day, passion ignited by the sparks of inspiration she draws from around her. However, since Marinette’s sketches had obvious hints of disorder, as it normally is with crude artist sketches, it clearly contrasted with the otherwise structured sketches Nathaniel makes for his comic books. Marc, fully in awe, couldn’t help but take a break from his writing and stare at the red-haired illustrator’s creative process right next to him.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, thanks to the strong, overbearing feeling of being watched, was getting overly conscious of his work. Keeping his composure to the best of his ability, he quickly turned to Marc and asked, “Do you need something Marc?”

Snapped out of his trance wide-eyed, Marc inwardly panicked. ‘Oh no, I must be staring at him too long! I hope I didn’t spook him too much.’

Scrambling for a sensible response, the novelist stuttered out, “I-i want to write something in your notebook.”

Setting down his pencil while his turquoise eyes were still on Marc, Nathaniel blinked inquisitively. “Oh, why would you want to do that?”

“B-because,” the shy writer reasoned, “I want to write something to remind you of me. T-that is, if y-you don’t mind.”

The red-haired teen averted his gaze from his partner as he remarked, “You know I don’t let anyone write on my notebook, Marc.”

This response triggered the disappointment that Marc had anticipated from the moment that they started continuing to develop the rest of the comic book they were working on together. It was even more daunting for the timid writer that their art teacher and the rest of Nathaniel’s classmates who were usually in the art room with them did not show up at that moment, or even at all. Marinette would tell Nathaniel that it’s a great idea for his newfound love to leave special traces on his personal notebook while Rose, somehow finding this romantic, would gush at this gesture with Juleka mumbling to herself in response. But what would have been the cherry on top for Marc at the moment is that if Alix was there to egg on Nathaniel, pressuring him to give in and let his boyfriend write something in his notebook. At least the comic relief from Alix’s teasing would help alleviate the collective awkwardness the couple felt at that moment. God, if only it wasn’t just the two of them in the art room at that moment.

But alas, he was alone, helpless and daunted, and he was facing the dragon which was Nathaniel, or whatever Nathaniel thought of him at that moment.

However, all of the fears and doubts that plagued Marc left him when Nathaniel continued with a small, endearing smile on his face, “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

The novelist beamed at his boyfriend, green eyes sparkling with delight. “R-really?”

“In one condition.”

Marc took and held in a quick breath. “Anything, Nath.”

The illustrator picked up his pencil once again and uttered, with an outstretched hand right by Marc’s notebook, “Let me draw in your notebook.”

It was at that moment when Marc could feel his heart flutter, accompanied by the butterflies in his stomach as he opened his own notebook to the very last page and laid it out right by his beau’s workspace.

“It would be my pleasure.”

In a span of 2 minutes while Nathaniel was drawing on the last page of his boyfriend’s notebook, Marc, fidgeting and tapping his pen softly on his chin, racked his brain for a simple yet memorable piece to write on the first page of the illustrator’s notebook, which was left empty out of personal preference by its owner. Hoping to obtain bit by bit of inspiration, he glanced at Nathaniel, then at the empty page, then at Nathaniel, and so on and so forth. This went on, albeit unnoticed by the redhead, until mere seconds after, he scribbled away on the page once he had gotten attuned with his creative writing flow.

After both of them finished leaving their traces on each other’s notebook pages, Nathaniel and Marc gave each other back their notebooks and instantly opened them to where they each left their special mark. Struck with awe, the novelist softly traced the outline of the drawing and his emerald eyes were drawn to Nathaniel’s signature which he left underneath the recently drawn portrait. A tinge of pink formed on Marc’s cheeks as he admired every stroke that constituted this drawing of him done by none other than the boy he once looked up to, now loved, and who loved him back.

“No one’s written me a poem before,” Nathaniel uttered as he perused every line written by Marc on that now extra special page in his notebook, eyes taking in every word written in that distinct elegant script that served as an epitome of beauty that the redhead beheld. One particular line at the end of the writing, however, caught him by surprise: the words ‘Je t’aime’ accompanied by Marc’s signature in that same fancy handwriting the illustrator adored dearly.

Having regained his composure, Marc turned to Nathaniel and asked, “Do you like the poem? I-i thought of it on the spot so it might not exactly be to your liking, but-”

“I love it,” interrupted the red-haired teen breathlessly, wrapping an arm around his significant other and squeezing his shoulder. “Really Marc, you make the most wonderful written pieces.”

An expression as bright as day graced Marc’s features as he replied, albeit with a bit of shyness in his voice, “Y-you really think so?”

Nathaniel threw any single hint of hesitation in his being out the window as he placed a tender, loving kiss on Marc’s forehead. “I do. We’re meant to be partnered together, after all.”

And just like that, the uncomfortable awkwardness that haunted Marc was instantly warded off, and in a flash, he enveloped Nathaniel in a tight, warm, loving embrace and leaned into him in newfound solace. The silence in the art room has never been this comforting as the couple relished in this seemingly endless embrace together.

[atths--twice]

Wednesday Night at the Fluff and Fold

Had an idea for a little “on the run” story the other day. Thus this little story was born. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

Late on a hot summer night, while on the run, Scully and Mulder spend some time in a small town laundromat.

September 2003

Juliette, Georgia

10:00 p.m.

There was an odd feeling of calm to pairing socks, seeing them piling up beside the other clothes, everything organized into neat stacks.

Scully smiled as she remembered helping her mother fold clothes when she was younger, loving the feel of them when they were warm from the dryer, or even helping to take them from a clothesline. Sheets were always her favorite, lifting her side up as high as she could, her mother smiling as she held tight to the other end. The sound of the snap of the fabric, the perfect fold, meeting in the middle to hand it off to her mother… she loved it all.

Socks were saved for her to do on her own, large piles of them from the whole family, left to her to sort like a puzzle. She liked being able to differentiate between them, giving the right socks to the right people, proud that she never got it wrong.

As an adult, she found that same pride in the tidiness of her own home; the dishes always washed and put away in their place, the pictures hung to her taste, her clothes always organized, going through them often and getting rid of any taking up unwanted space.

Space, she thought with a snort. That’s definitely something we are lacking these days.

Folding one of Mulder’s t-shirts, she placed it on top of his pile. One of her shirts was next and she placed it on her own pile with a sigh. Turning around, she looked at the dryer in front of her and saw it still had twenty minutes left before the cycle would be complete. Looking around at the empty laundromat, she sighed again.

Fanning herself, she lifted her long hair off of her sweaty neck. The weight of it made her think again of cutting it short like she’d had it in the past. Instead, she took the rubber band from her wrist and tied it up into a messy bun, a few pieces falling down and brushing her face. As it did, she sighed at the dark brown, nearly black color of it.

She’d had it dyed for months now, but she was still taken aback by it when her thoughts were elsewhere and it suddenly fell into her view. She did not mind it, but it was a drastic difference from her normal red.

The door to the laundromat opened and Mulder walked in with a plastic bag in each hand.. Even in khaki shorts, a black tank top, and flip flops, she could see he was just as warm as she was, beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.

“God, it’s like walking through numerous layers of warm wet paper towels. I’m sweating like crazy.”

“It’s not much cooler in here,” she said with a gesture toward the dryers. “Thankfully it’s the last load.”

“Should I get the bags from the car?” he asked, setting the plastic bags down on the counter beside the piles of folded clothes.

“Nah. Might as well wait until those are done and folded.” He nodded and jumped up to sit next to the bags, smiling at her as he did. She let out a deep breath as she glanced at the dryer timer again.

Eighteen minutes until they would pack up and head away from this small town, all of their clothes clean, for a while at least.

It had been nearly a year and a half since they had been on the run, staying in countless motels, trailers, tents, the car itself, and even once a teepee, which they had both found highly offensive, especially after seeing the decor. But it had been cold and the place warm, so they had stayed for a night before leaving the next morning

In that time, a system had been created. They had bought large plastic totes and kept everything they needed inside of them: sleeping bags, pillows, extra blankets, two tents, tarps, camping cooking supplies, some food- but not much as they did not want to attract any unwanted animals.

They also had two duffel bags which held all of the clothes they owned, rotating them by need and season.

As it was the tailend of a very warm summer, the warmer clothes had been stored in one of the totes, not needed for a few more months. The two duffel bags were now full of shorts, tank tops, shirts, and even a few sundresses, the breeze welcome as it cooled her everywhere.

The bags also held their simple toiletries inside plastic zippered bags. It was organized and fit just so in the car, allowing them to grab whatever was needed quickly. Every item was replaceable and held no sentimental value, easily able to be left behind if the situation called for it.

Clothes were worn until only one outfit remained, the dirty clothes placed in trash bags. All laundry was done at one time, visiting laundromats late at night, or any motel with on-site laundry service. The clean clothes were then put back into the duffel bags, the trash bags slipped into the totes, ready to be refilled.

It was a system that worked well, keeping them away from crowds of people, Mulder remaining safe and relatively unseen.

Sighing again, she shook her head and glanced at the bags he had brought in with him.

“So, what have you got there?” she asked with a smile, one of the bags smelling of something delicious and causing her stomach to growl.

“Well,” he said, opening the bag and removing take out containers, handing one to her. “The Whistle Stop Café is open late tonight for a summer barbecue-”

“Is it?” she said, looking at her food cautiously and he laughed.

“Pork, not human,” he assured her with another chuckle. “Someone in front of me made that joke and the woman serving food gave him such a look, I knew better than to make the same mistake.”

“Can’t really blame people when it’s heavily implied in the Fried Green Tomatoes movie and in the book… well…” She raised her eyebrows and opened the container, sniffing the delicious aroma of barbecued pork, her mouth watering.

“I also got mashed potatoes and biscuits. Homemade biscuits that I ate one of on the way over here because they had only just cooled enough to be served when I ordered them. Try one of those first.” He handed her one and he nodded encouragingly.

Taking it from him, she took a bite and then moaned as the sweet taste of butter hit her tongue. He nodded again with a smile as she took another bite and he took out utensils and napkins. She pushed herself up to sit beside him, her legs swinging as they ate, the dryer continuing to tumble the last of their clothes, both of them hot, sweaty, and sticky.

As they finished eating, the dryer stopped and while he cleaned up their food and trash, she took out the clothes, walking them to the counter to be folded. He came back in with the duffel bags, setting them on the empty counter, and began helping her fold the clothes.

In no time, they were filling the duffel bags, everything once more arranged and in order. She threw out the dryer sheets she had used and picked up the now empty trash bags, ready to put them back into the totes in the car.

“What’s in this bag?” she asked and he nodded at her to open it. When she did, she smiled, finding it full of paperbacks.

“I found a used bookstore and came back to the car, taking out the ones you’d wanted to swap if we found one. I could only find up to “O,” but maybe we’ll get lucky at the next place and find “P” and “Q.””

“There’s a “Q”? I didn’t know,” she murmured and he nodded as she looked down at the books.

They had stayed at a cabin in March and the sparse amount of books available had led to her reading ones she would normally have passed over. Particularly, a series of detective novels, the titles of each one beginning with a different letter of the alphabet.

Finding that she enjoyed them, when they had been in another town, she had popped into a used bookstore, finding the next in the “alphabet series” by Sue Grafton. She had loved them all, a distraction from their own lives for a little while. It had been some time since she had finished, and even reread the last few, holding onto them to trade in for new ones, and she was happy he had found them.

“Thank you,” she said softly, looking at “L” is for Lawless and “M” is for Malice. “I know it’s not my usual reading material…”

“Scully, there isn’t much that is usual right now.” He smiled at her and shrugged. “You enjoy them. I do too. Especially when you read them aloud and we try to figure out the ending.” She nodded with a smile and ran her fingers across the titles.

“Thank you,” she said again, lifting her head to look at him. He smiled with a nod and picked up one of the duffel bags, kissing her as he did.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered against her lips, reaching for the next duffel bag.

She put the books back inside the plastic bag and picked up their black canvas backpack. Everything else could be left behind and abandoned at a moment's notice, but not the backpack. It held everything of importance inside of it and was never far from sight.

One last look around, making sure they had everything, they walked out into the muggy and sticky Georgia night. Bags were placed back into the car and then bottles of water were taken from the totes and carried to the front seat.

Mulder turned on the car, blasting the air conditioning as they both sat, the warm air gradually becoming cooler. She closed her eyes as she twisted her head and leaned forward, letting the cool air hit the back of her neck.

“What were we thinking, huh? Coming to the south in the summer? Should have stayed up north,” Mulder said with a deep sigh and she smiled.

“It’s summer, Mulder. It’s hot everywhere.”

“Hmm. Not moist hot though. I feel… well… it’s not the best situation in my southern region either.” She laughed and opened her eyes, looking at him as he raised his eyebrows with a shake of his head.

“How does a cold shower sound?”

“Make it lukewarm, and not a solo one, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” he said with a smile and she tilted her head.

“You’re asking me to join you even after you’ve so eloquently divulged a bad case of swamp ass?” She raised her eyebrows at him, a half smile on her face, and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Absolutely. I’m sure you could do with a…”

“Yes?” she asked, her eyebrows raising higher, waiting to see how big of a hole he would dig himself into.

“Well…” He shrugged and smiled, the one that made her heart race. Innocent and sweet, with an air of mischief hiding behind it. “A nice refreshing shower after standing in that warm laundromat for so long.”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, licking her lips and his eyes followed its path across them.

“And if it leads to some sex… well…” He shrugged again and put the car in gear, looking around before he backed up and out of the parking spot, continuing out of the parking lot. “At least we’ll get clean as we’re being dirty.” She laughed and nodded, already anticipating the feel of the water cooling and cleansing her sweaty body, his hands on her wet and slippery skin making her ache with need.

He grinned at her as they pulled up to a stop sign by the Whistle Stop Café. People were still there enjoying the barbecue, music playing and laughter ringing out into the night. They drove past the now closed used bookstore and she smiled, remembering the books waiting to be read. Looking at him, she smiled and he winked as he caught her eye.

“A refreshing shower sounds wonderful.”

“And the sex?” he asked, stopping at a light and staring at her, waggling his eyebrows.

“Sounds orgasmic,” she said in a low voice and he growled, stepping on the gas as soon as the light was green, hurrying out of town as she laughed happily.

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 6

Hope you guys all enjoyed my (almost) cliffhanger last week! This chapter is the longest so far, and I worked very hard on it, so if you get whumperflies please let me know!!! <3

Next chapter might take a bit longer what with uni starting again soon but I will do my best to keep it to once a fortnight at the LATEST. so we’ll see!

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk (aka my loves. if you want to be tagged just ask!)

CW: pet whumpee, aftermath of torture, creepy whumper, general violence, panic attacks

-

The door handle turned. Rowe whimpered. He wished it would just fly open, slam against the wall, hurry it up. He’d been curled up in his room ever since Master Tomas had casually mentioned that he was going grocery shopping, and Kasia would be coming over to get some work done. Rowe had felt the blood drain from his face, not him not him not him, I want to be good, I’ve tried so hard to be good for you Master-

“I’ve had a really stressful day at work,” Kasia said as he stepped into the room, in a low voice that made Rowe go cold. “Stand up.”

Rowe didn’t hesitate. “Take your shirt off.” He complied. “Arms behind your back.” He did as he was told.

“Wow, you really are pathetic, you know that?” said Kasia. “And I deal with a lot of Pets.”

Kasia took a few more steps towards Rowe until he could smell the cigarettes on his breath. He took Rowe’s face roughly and stared at him. A calloused thumb ran over his lips, making the hair on the back of Rowe’s neck stand up, and still Kasia just stared. Rowe kept his eyes on the ground, trembling.

“You’re so…,” Kasia laughed, “I can’t believe I gave my mate such an ugly Pet. And he hasn’t even hit you, has he? You must think you can just relax and walk all over him.”

Rowe shook his head, minutely but firmly, blinking away tears. No, no, I won’t relax, I won’t get comfortable. I’m just a Pet, I got tossed out, I’m worthless. Serving my Master is a privilege. I won’t forget.

Rowe was grateful for the discipline. He could get so caught up in why Master Tomas wanted him to do something, when really his place was as an obedient Pet. Not questioning, just accepting. He needed this reminder.

“Even looking at you annoys me. You don’t deserve an owner like Tomas.”

And then the first punch came, hard, sudden, into the side of his ribcage, and Rowe’s vision blinkered as he buckled and fell to the ground.

“Seriously? You’re on the floor after one punch? I thought I could have some fun beating you down.”

Rowe’s arms shook as he tried to push himself back up, his chest throbbing with every shallow breath. Kasia stamped a boot onto his back and he thumped against the ground, gasping as Kasia pressed harder and harder until Rowe was squirming, trying desperately to make his limbs work again, but the thought of being disobedient was enough to make his body limp. He could feel the barely-healed wounds on his back opening up. It was like being whipped all over again. The weight momentarily lifted from his back, only to come down far harder. Rowe’s jaw clacked sickeningly against the floor and he bit his tongue, hard. Pain exploded in his mouth. He moaned weakly and Kasia delivered a savage kick to his ribs, in the same place he’d just been punched.

“How’s your nose, Pet?” Kasia said roughly, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back until Rowe’s eyes met his. “Healed any?”

“I-it’s, agh, p-please, I d-don’t know-”

Kasia lifted Rowe’s head higher, and he suddenly realised with a rush of nausea what was coming. Fear overtook him as he cried out.

“N-no, no, please- don’t! No!”

It felt like a twisted version of déjà vu as Kasia crushed Rowe’s face into the floor, making him howl in pain. His nose was making horrifying crunching noises. Rowe cried desperately, hitting his fists off the floor to force himself not to grapple Kasia’s arm, not to do anything that might anger him further.

All of Master Tomas’s kindness, the ice pack and the painkillers and the gentle towel cleaning blood off his face, all of it was undone in a few seconds. Rowe wept harder at the thought of it. Master had wasted so much on him.

Kasia eventually let go and Rowe choked as he lifted his face, blood streaming into his mouth. The pain was so bad he could hardly think. He pushed himself up, turning to face Kasia and save his back any more pain.

“Please-” he sobbed, “please d-d-don’t-”

“Bit late for that,” laughed Kasia. “You’re fun to mess around with. I feel better already. But I can’t beat you too bad or Tomas will notice.”

“Wh-wh-what if h-he asks about my n-n-nose,” Rowe stammered out.

Kasia smiled at this and casually knelt down over Rowe, straddling him heavily. He grabbed his neck with one hand and pinned him down. With his other hand he slid a thumb over Rowe’s eye socket and held it there. No pressure, yet. Yet. Rowe forced himself to be still, and good, and take it.

“If you tell him,” began Kasia, digging his thumb in slightly. Blobs of grey fuzz appeared in Rowe’s vision. “I’ll not only make you regret the day you were born-” his thumb pushed in harder, “-I’ll also tell him you’re lying and he’ll throw you out-” and harder. Rowe started to whimper in fear, “-and then I’ll make you my Pet full-time. And I won’t hesitate to chop off and rearrange and reshape any part of you I dislike. Like your eyes, for instance. Or your tongue. Or your fingers. Do you understand?”

Rowe could barely breathe with Kasia’s full weight upon him. He couldn’t nod, couldn’t move his face at all while the thumb in Rowe’s eye made his entire head felt like it could burst with pain. He whined pathetically with his last bit of breath. Kasia looked at him solidly and for a second Rowe thought he really would gouge his eye out, but then Kasia took both his hands away and patted Rowe roughly on the cheek as he gasped.

“Good boy. So how did you get these injuries? You clumsy thing. You’ve busted your nose again and, well, you’re gonna have a bruise on your ribs.”

“I-I walked into a door, sir.”

“Yeah, you did. Now get up and clean the blood off your face.”

. . .

Tomas bustled through the front door and nudged it closed with his hip, his hands full of shopping bags. ‘’Kas? You’ve not burnt the place down then?’’

‘’Not for lack of trying,’’ came the reply as Kasia walked over and took a few of the bags. ‘’Let me get some of those. You feeding the five hundred?’’

Tomas smiled sheepishly. ‘’There’s a lot of food I don’t think Rowe’s tried yet… have you seen him at all?’’

‘’Nope. Heard him pattering around upstairs, though. Slammed the door pretty hard at one point. I didn’t go up to check on him, I hope you understand. I just figured, if he’s that nervous around you…’’

‘’Yes, yes, of course. Don’t worry.’’

‘’Well, I’d best be on my way. You know, your house is wonderfully quiet. Don’t hesitate if you need me to watch it again, please. I could get so much more work done in a calm place like this.’’

‘’Thank you so much, mate. I’ll let you know, yeah,’’ Tomas said warmly as Kasia grabbed his jacket and headed off.

He had barely closed the door when he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. Tomas turned to see Rowe kneeling before him in his usual position, with his forehead to the floor. He still found it unnerving, seeing this frail man, covered in scars and bruises, submitting before him. ‘’Welcome back, Master Tomas.’’

‘’Hey, Rowe,’’ Tomas said, crouching slowly and reaching out a hand to the back of Rowe’s head, watching for a reaction. Rowe didn’t flinch, or stiffen- in fact, he leaned into the touch. Tomas ruffled his hair gently. Before he could invite Rowe back up, he spoke again.

‘’Master, please allow me to handle the cooking tonight, a-and any other chores you need me for.’’

‘’Oh, o-okay,’’ said Tomas. ‘’Um, well you can certainly join me in the cooking. I don’t want you to have to do it all yourself. And here, let me help you up.’’

Rowe began to unfold himself and Tomas held out a hand. After a moment of hesitation, he slipped his fingers between Tomas’s and let him take some of his weight as he stood. Tomas frowned in pity as he saw Rowe’s face- a neat bandage lay across his nose. Small bruises had formed under each eye- which was something a broken nose could cause, according to the internet. They looked deathly against his pallid skin. Rowe saw him frowning and Tomas felt the hand he was holding go stiff.

‘’P-please, Master, let me cook for you. I-It’s the least I c-can do.’’

He looked so… terribly sad. ‘’You can help, Rowe. Um- Kasia said he heard something slamming upstairs? Did you do something to your nose?’’

‘’I- I walked into a door, Master. I was foolish and careless and s-stupid. Please- please punish me for my ugliness.’’

‘’Aw, Rowe,’’ Tomas murmured involuntarily. ‘’You don’t look ugly. I wouldn’t hurt you over something like- I wouldn’t, I mean, I wouldn’t hurt you at all. I’m not going to punish you. Have you been worrying about that?’’

Rowe’s eyes dropped and he slowly nodded.

‘’Thank you for telling the truth. I don’t think you’re ugly at all.’’ It seemed to be something that was concerning him, so Tomas added, ‘’If I do, I’ll tell you, okay?’’

Rowe’s shoulders loosened and looked up at Tomas again. ‘’Yes, Master. Thank you.’’

Crisis averted? Tomas thought. ‘’Okay, great. Let’s start chopping some veg.’’

. . .

Rowe sliced the knife down harder as he hands trembled. He was doing his best, he really was, he was trying to just be fucking useful for once, but he was so on edge with Master Tomas so near to him. Rowe was constantly checking over his shoulder, so he could be ready for the first slap or punch. The knife in his hand reminded him of the times he’d been made to bring his master the tool that would be used to punish him.

Rowe was holding a weapon. An instrument for causing pain. Once again he wished he could be normal, wished he could be a good, blank, Pet, instead of one that couldn’t even chop vegetables without thinking about all the ways the knife could cut and slice and open and chop off- chop off- like Kasia had said-

Rowe’s head spun. He felt sick. Kasia wasn’t here. It was only Master. He was the one Rowe should be worrying about. Master could do as he pleased, Rowe repeated to himself, over and over. If Master wants to use the knife on me, I’ll let him. Of course I’ll let him.

. . .

Tomas stirred the stock cube absent-mindedly, his back to Rowe. He had tried to put enough space between him and Rowe to, hopefully, make Rowe feel a little more at ease. He watched as the hot water swirled around his spoon. The sound of rhythmic chopping behind him told him that Rowe was working diligently.

. . .

The carrot seemed to bend and stretch before him as Rowe tried to gather his thoughts. He was okay, he was okay. He hadn’t angered Master, not yet. So far, he was mercifully being ignored. Rowe looked back down and held the knife firmly.

The little coins of carrot were mostly even. Rowe hoped that would be good enough.

. . .

Tomas gently scraped in the onions and garlic and let them simmer. He rolled up his sleeves as the kitchen warmed up.

. . .

The knife was so sharp. Rowe was staring at it as he worked, not even looking at the vegetables, just watching the blade, waiting for Master to turn around and yank it out of his hand and order Rowe to his knees. Why did Master keep saying he wouldn’t hurt him? Rowe wanted to believe it every time, and every time it took longer for him to snap out of it. He moved his fingers out of the way at the last second as he brought the knife down shakily.

. . .

Tomas turned around. ‘’Rowe-‘’ he began, taking a step towards him. Rowe jerked in surprise and spun to face him.

. . .

The knife was still in his hand. He’d been so startled by Master Tomas suddenly being right there behind him that he had gripped it harder reflexively as he turned. Rowe stared down in horror. A long, thin cut ran along Master’s exposed forearm, all the way to his hand. Tiny drops of blood were beginning to form.

And then Rowe’s mind went blank.

. . .

Tomas easily caught Rowe as he fainted. The knife bounced off the floor and Tomas kicked it out of the way. The cut was superficial, and sure it was a surprise, but it hardly hurt. Still, he knew enough to realise how grave this was. A Pet hurting their owner. His stomach twisted at the thought of the beating that would have earned Rowe in the past. No wonder he passed out.

He gently laid Rowe on the couch, grabbed some kitchen roll, and wrapped it around his arm. Perching on the armrest, Tomas let himself look at the man in his care.

He could see long scars along his thighs, like he’d be belted while kneeling. Deep red scrapes, cuts and sores ran around his wrists, the scars of old restraints. His chest was rising and falling evenly, and his face looked soft. Relaxed. Tomas watched his fingers flick minutely, his lips part as he breathed. He wasn’t screaming. He looked peaceful for the first time since Tomas had got him.

And then… Rowe stirred. A groan rumbled in his chest as he rolled his head, and Tomas quickly put a hand to Rowe’s cheek to stop him grinding his nose. This made Rowe’s eyes finally twitch open, little by little then all at once when he remembered what had happened and saw Tomas sitting over him. He cried out, he hands scrambling to find purchase as he pushed himself away, tumbling off the sofa and ramming his forehead against the floor so hard that Tomas heard the crack.

‘’Oh, God, please!’’ he cried, his voice cracking as sobs and gasps racked through him, ‘’P-please Master I’m so, s-s-so sorry, I’m so sorry, I w-w-would n-never, I, I mean, I d-don’t, I w-was trying so ha-ard to be good-‘’

‘’Rowe, it’s okay,’’ Tomas blurted out, raising his voice. He grabbed his shoulders and lifted his head up off the ground. Rowe’s eyes were bright with fear like Tomas had never seen before. It was so intense that he let go of his shoulders reflexively and Rowe shrank into himself, trembling before his owner.

‘’I swear, I s-swear I c-can be better, Master, I ca-an, please please don’t s-send me back, I-I’ll take any pun-nishment like- like a good Pet, I’ll be g-good-‘’

‘’Rowe-‘’

‘’I-It w-was an accident, please Master p-p-please believe me, I wo-would n-never do some-something like that, I’m begging you-‘’

‘’Rowe, I’m not going t-’’

‘’Please,’’ begged Rowe hoarsely, tears rolling down his cheeks, and something in his voice made Tomas stop and listen. ‘’Please, Master, please, I can’t- I don’t know why you want me to b-b-believe that you wo-won’t hurt me, but I can’t d-do it, I just wa-want to be good s-s-so bad and I ca-an’t, I k-keep messing up a-and you never hurt me and I j-just want to be good, I w-want to be good I don’t want to- to get thr-rown out and I need p-p-punishment, Master, please…’’ he gasped.

‘’I’m not….. you are being good. You’re being really good.’’ Tomas felt his heart breaking.

Rowe’s sobbing was becoming weaker and weaker as he ran out of energy. He stared up at Tomas with eyes that were sparkly and wet. He looked utterly broken.

‘’I just want to get it over with, Master.’’

‘’No, I’m not going to punish you,’’ Tomas said seriously.

‘’I’m begging you,’’ he cried, his voice cracking. ‘’I can’t- I can’t take this waiting a-anymore! Please, Master, please, I want it, l- let me throw myself at your mercy, I w-want to be punished f-for my disobedience, please treat y-your Pet the way I d-d-deserve, I’ll take anything for you Master, please beat me, please cut me, please whip me, pl-‘’

‘’Rowe, stop! Stop it! Stop it, please, stop,’’ Tomas shouted. Rowe fell silent immediately with a whimper. ‘’I know- I can see that’s what you thought I wanted to hear. I understand. But I’m not- this isn’t a test, or a game, okay? You don’t need pain to be good.’’

Rowe kept his mouth shut, flinching as Tomas sank down next to him.

‘’All this time you’ve been waiting for a punishment that never came.’’ Rowe nodded. Tomas exhaled deeply as he thought. Rowe needed order, and he followed rules diligently, and Tomas had fucked up by leaving Rowe in limbo with no idea when he would be punished. At least now, he had let Tomas know what was distressing him. A punishment would give him a bit of comfort, in a twisted way. ‘’Okay, Rowe, I will punish you.’’

Rowe burst into fresh tears, pressing his face to the floor. ‘’Th-thank you, thank you Master, thank you, thank you, thank you.’’

Tomas gently took Rowe’s chin and lifted his head. Was this just putting off the difficult conversations until another day? Or was this an act of mercy, relieving the mental suffering Rowe had been putting himself through? Tomas decided on the latter. Screaming at Rowe that he wouldn’t hurt him while Rowe shook and cried and begged didn’t seem very productive.

‘’Firstly, since you gave me this cut it only seems fair that you bandage it up.’’

‘’Yes, Master,’’ Rowe choked out as he ran upstairs to get the first aid kit. Tomas sat back up on the couch and peeled off the kitchen towels that were now sticky with blood. Rowe returned, discarded them, and got on with dressing the cut. Rowe’s hands were still as he pressed the anti-bacterial wipe against his Master’s skin. The bandage wrapped around his arm was neater than Tomas had ever seen before. He had to bite back the praise he wanted to give Rowe- this was a punishment, he reminded himself. He steeled himself to deliver Rowe’s punishment.

‘’I’m going up to my office. Finish cooking and bring it to me, then wash up and tidy the house. While I’m working tomorrow, stay out of my way and don’t disturb me. The only time I want to see or hear you is if I ask you to do something, which you will do immediately. Understood? You can speak freely again in 24 hours.’’

‘’Yes, Master Tomas,’’ Rowe whispered as he hurried to the kitchen counter. Tomas took himself upstairs and buried his head in his hands. He hated how good he was at sounding stern. He hated how unnatural it felt. He couldn’t shake the fear that he was undoing all of the progress Rowe had made.

[capriccio-con-espressione]

Teacher’s Day

（©GIF cred)

A/N: Happy birthday to our comedic meme material prince Hendery!😘 This is a re-upload from my old acc so I hope you guys enjoy! (P.S. Reuploaded again since the previous one failed to show up in tags)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3027

Warning:  Bratty Sub!Hendery, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Profanity, Hair pulling, Spanking, Wedgie, Degradation, Anal play, Sex toys, Titty sucking/worshipping, Writing lines as punishment

  “How much longer?” Blindfolded Hendery whines while you are leading him to the designated room for his birthday playtime, but this impatient boy obviously can’t wait.

  “What is my surprise, to be exact?” The boy continues to inquire. “I hope I won’t be walking blindfolded for too much longer or I am starting to think that you are taking me to the slaughterhouse like I am a piglet!”

  “I’ll make sure your surprise is worth the wait if you stop being this inquisitive.” You stop your leading steps. “Seriously? A piglet? Can you not ruin the mood by goofing around and exaggerating things this much?”

  “Okay okay I am sorry.” Hendery playfully apologizes. “First asking me to wear the uniform from the Back to School Kit, second blindfolding me like this, I am really dying to know what it is!”

  “Shh be patient.” You smirk while finally leading him inside the room, instructing him to sit down in a chair. “Do you know what’s special about today?”

  “My birthday, of course! Why ask?” He asks, puzzled.

  “It’s also Teachers’ Day in Taiwan as well.” You half-whisper in his ear while taking off his blindfold. “So I’d better teach you some manners as well as something unforgettable on this day…”

  Hendery’s vision clears up as he glances around his surroundings: a blackboard with capitalized letters “DETENTION” written on it, a podium in the front left of the room, and several sets of desk and chairs arranged in neat rows while he’s seated in one of them, with a typical school bag hanging from the hook on the right side of his desk.

  “Wow this looks legit…” He compliments. “So this is why the school uniform?”

  You reply in a sly hum, picking up the 50-cm iron ruler originally leaning against the podium before approaching him. “I remember you mentioning role-play to spice up our sex life, so I figured this can be the peak of your birthday. You like that, my naughty schoolboy?” You smirk alluringly while tilting his chin up with the ruler.

  “Fuck yeah, this will be amazing…”

  You slam the ruler menacingly loud against his desk, startling him a bit. “Words, Hendery. No profanity allowed in this class. Aren’t you aware of the trouble you are in right now?” You motion toward the capitalized words on the blackboard.

  “Hmmm...I have no idea…” He feigns innocence in those bright piercing eyes, in an obvious attempt to annoy you.

  “Such an impudent lad. You are in detention because you don’t hand in assignments on time, slacking off in your studies, and last but not least, bad-mouthing your teacher.” You close in on him while maintaining a glare. “Are you sorry for what you did?”

  “No, y/n-”

  “How dare you call me by my first name?”

  “Look, Miss Y/L/N I don’t really care. I am a very busy guy and you are just wasting my time.” He grins cheekily. “I am going to miss my club practice. I promise I will do better, so can’t you just let it go this time?”

  “I don’t trust your empty promises, Hendery, especially this isn’t the first time you let me down.” You cross your arms. “And you shouldn’t be allowed any club activities since you fail to prioritize things correctly. You should sit here, properly complete the assignments you have missed under my supervision, and you are free to go after that. It’s that simple.”

  “Why are you giving me such a hard time, Miss?”

  “I am not being hard and unreasonable on you, all I am asking you to do is something that aids your learning and done by the rest of your peers, plus, you won’t know what your problems with learning are without these practices.” You sigh while taking out the workbook from the schoolbag and place it right in front of him. “Now stop complaining and do it.” You order as you sit down next to him.

  Hendery huffs and reluctantly flips through the book to find the marked pages for this session. “20 pages of mathematics with 30 questions on each one? Are you insane?”

  “This is the accumulated result of your indolence, boy. And you sure it’s appropriate to call your teacher insane?”

  “Right right I am so sorry Miss-” 

  “Apologize properly.” You grab his arm to get all his attention, starting to get sick of his dismissive attitude and playing nice with him.

  “I am really sorry that I called you insane, Miss Y/L/N...” His voice trails off at the end of the sentence while he diverts his attention to the questions in front of him again.

  You watch him scribble down answers on the pages intently to see his every move, so when his arm scoots suspiciously close to the corner of the page where he’s writing something, you immediately take notice of it.

  You abruptly stand up and snatch away the book from him with a strong force, making his eyes widen with disbelief. “‘Miss Y/L/N is an annoying bitch’? This is what I get after being this patient and communicative with you?” You continue to read the contents of the page. “And none of the answers are correct! You are really giving me attitude, huh?”

  “Why should I listen to you when you’re such a pain in my ass?”

  “Pain in my ass isn’t it? Now I should really inflict some real pain on your ass.” He yelps as you yank him by his hair, forcing him to stand up. “Bend over.”

  Hendery winces at the burning sensation on his scalp as he complies, then you let go and press his waist down firmly against the desk as your other arm immediately delivers a sharp blow on his bottom.

  “Apologize.” You order sternly after a dozen spanks.

  “Never.” He retorts with a grunt.

  “Such a shameless brat.” You muse while pulling down his trousers, then pull up his boxers between his cheeks and give a firm tug on it, causing him to whine in discomfort.

  “Still unapologetic?” You sneer before giving a harsh slap on his bare flesh.

  “Please stop...Miss...and I am really sorry…”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I-I am sorry for disrespecting you!”

  “Then? What about your horrible work on your assignment?” You resume spanking him again.

  “Mmmf- I am sorry for messing up my homework! Please stop wedging me I beg you, Miss.”

  You snigger at his plead and how easy it is to break him, but still you aren’t satisfied. “Combine your apologies into a sentence together and I will consider, and you’d better be earnest enough.”

  “Ahh-I apologize sincerely for calling you bad names, a-and slacking off in my studies then failing to do my homework properly! Please Miss I feel so guilty right now…” He whimpers and shifts his butt, trying to minimize the soreness.

  “Very well.” You decide not to be too hard on him at first to save it for later and release the fabric. Hendery sighs in relief, only to experience a similar mishap soon after again. 

  “You forgot to thank me, you poor-mannered lad.” You smirk at his misfortune, tweaking the clothing harder than last time, feeling amused that your boyfriend always falls into this trap by forgetting to express his gratitude when you just decide to have a little mercy on him.

  “P-please Miss I am sorry for not remembering to thank you...ahhh…please I’ll be good...just spare me some mercy please…”

  “How should I believe that you will have the brain to remember such basic manners next time, you airhead?”

  “I-I will endure whatever it takes for you to believe in me, Miss. I am truly sorry…”

  “Whatever, huh?” You mock his tone while shoving both his undergarments down his ankles. “You are going to take a sound spanking. Better remember to count out every spank and thank me afterward. Is that clear?” 

  “Yes, Miss. I won’t forget it this time.”

  You swing the ruler in the air, warming your arm up, before striking his bare bottom.

  “One! Th-thank you, Miss.”

  You smack him again, but harder this time.

  “Two! Ahh-thank you, Miss.” He kicks his legs, but only to find them restrained with his garments, which just excites him more.

  You then continue to mercilessly redden his ass, interspersing the punishment with some sensual soothing rubs in between to prepare him for the sting and arouse him, and remain the same dynamic and rhythm until the twentieth spank, when you suddenly pick up the pace and inflict him with four consecutive blows.

  “Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four. Hnngh-thank you, Miss…” His voice falters.

  “See? You are not that bad at calculating. Why did you mess up your math homework that much then?” You ask before smacking him for the twenty-fifth time.

  “Twenty-five...thank you, Miss. I am sorry that I deliberately screwed up because I am just a defiant brat!”

  “Then you promise to do your best in your work in the future?” You inquire, amused by his admittance while continuing his punishment.

  “I will...I promise I won’t let you down ever again, Miss.” He assures you after counting out and thanking you.

  “You promise you will be a pliant pupil that listens well to his teacher?”

  “Ah-twenty-seven, thank you, Miss. I promise I will listen to you and obey you like a good student should do.”

  “Very well. So you should never violate any school rules again, right?” You foreshadow what the plot of your session will lead, before whipping him for the last time.

  “Twenty-eight...thank you, Miss. I promise I will abide by the rules.” He replies obediently, oblivious about the whole thing since it’s arranged as a surprise event.

  “Good boy.” You praise before caressing his sore butt, brushing his inner thighs from time to time as he moans at your sensual touches. “You didn’t just miss out on math, but other subjects as well. Should I take out the other study materials for you so that you have an overall understanding of what you should do?”

  “Yes, please. Thank you, Miss Y/L/N. May I sit down now?”

  “Just a minute…” You reply, searching through the schoolbag while taking your mischievous plan to work. “What are these doing in your bag, Hendery?” You demand sternly, laying two objects in front of him.

  Hendery becomes speechless at the sight of the large, rounded realistic silicone boobs and the veiny, ridgy dildo.

  “Care to explain what this is for?” You deliberately ask while pointing at the tits. Excitement boils inside you as you expect his answer.

  “This…is to fuck myself between them.” He shamelessly responds, with a devilish grin and a twitching dick, indicating his liking toward this turn of the plot.

  “How about this?” You motion at the dildo.

  “This is what I use to get a hot girl like you to fuck me to paradise…” He smirks dreamily, thinking of what you will do to him with it as you smirk at his sudden compliment.

  “Now I see the main reason that your grades are slipping. You are not only unwilling to study hard, but also you are a lecherous slut! You should know well porno stuff is obviously prohibited in school, but I remember you promising me that you will not break any rule just now?”

  “It was too late then, I already brought them before promising you.”

  “That still doesn’t justify your behavior. You should be punished again. Remember you saying that you will obey me?” You grin knowingly as you lightly patted the ruler against your palm.

  “Yes, Miss. Please punish me all you want as long as you won’t tell the authorities.”

  You simper at his literal beg to get punished. “Why should I report you to my superiors,” You position the fake boobs right under his face, “when I can have all the fun and enjoy the little show myself?” You tap the ruler against his ass once again. “Now suck it just like what you will do to your dream girl, filthy boy whore. You may not be the best at your studies, but you’d better not disappoint me with this.”

  Hendery happily commences engulfing the artificial mound while grimacing at the blooming tingle on his behind. The lewd sounds of him greedily slurping and lapping on the toy, the sight of his body squirming under your punitive ruler, and the corruptive contrast of his aristocratic profile doing the most sordid thing ever, all turn you on with the growing need for him to pleasure you.

  “Are you wiggling your naughty ass just to direct me to hit where you crave the pain the most, you seamy little slutboy?” You comment on his writhing backside as he nods in affirmation while continuing servicing the tits.

  “Perhaps you will love it when I abuse you here, right?” You wickedly tuck the ruler between his cheeks, earning a moan from him.

  “Would you like sucking real tits, or maybe you just prefer fawning over silicones?” You sneer, knowing the answer too well as you rub the ruler on his rear entrance.

  “I love real beautiful boobs more, of course, especially those of yours, Miss…” Hendery replies through moans, finally looking up at you from the saliva-covered toy while not forgetting to flatter you.

  “Hmm you finally know how to properly treat your teacher now, huh?” You remark as you unbutton your blouse then free your boobs from the lacy cups. “Worship them.”

  Hendery starts sucking on your breast after an admiring stare. “Since you’ve got your mouth worked up, I think I should stuff your other orifice too…” You say while coating both his ass, your fingers and the dildo with profuse lube. After gradually adding fingers to stretch him wide enough, you begin to slam into his needy prostate with the dildo, savoring the feeling of his wetness and vibrations coating your sensitive areas as well.

  Both his hands grab and fondle the base of your boobs for support as his knees buckle a little at the sensation deep inside his behind. You tangle the fingers of your free hand into his hair, forcing him to make eye contact with you with a firm tug.

  “Why do you turn to sex toys and risk bringing them to school, while your teacher is here to counsel you with both your studies and insatiable needs?”

  “B-because I want you to f-fuck and punish me for being a slut…” He flicks his tongue on your erect nipple after replying.

  “Is this why you got yourself in detention in the first place? Acting bratty in hopes of the opportunity to get some sexy discipline?”

  “Mmm yeah…” Your “student” that used to be so deviant is now moaning mindlessly between pants and sucking while looking up at you so lovingly yet indecently, urging you to ram his ass even harder and faster. Blissful tears start to stream out of his lust-filled eyes as you shove his uniform jacket down below his shoulders, loosen his tie then undo his first few upper buttons to turn him into a disheveled mess even more. Seeing him rendered to a state like this plus the stimuli on your nipples cause your core to drip with satisfying needs.

  “Such a messy needy baby...do you want to cum?” You coo as he quickly nods in response.

  “Then will you manage your time well and complete your assignment properly?”

  “...Yes, I will, Miss.”

  “Will you be respectful to your teacher from now on?”

  “Mmm of course I will, especially to my favorite teacher…”

  “Last but not least, will you turn to your teacher for help when necessary instead of wanking with stupid toys?”

  “Definitely, because my teacher feels so much better…”

  “Good. Now you are allowed to cum as much as you want.” 

  Hendery cums after muttering some gratitude, not forgetting his manners this time. You indulge in a slow sensual kiss with him afterward, drawing him out of the orgasmic haze while whispering some praises to him, slowly guiding him back to his senses as well as doing a quick clean-up of body fluids.

  “Did you know you just came with your dick completely untouched?” You playfully taunt.

  “I know you are that good…” He sheepishly grins at you.

  “Now one more thing for you to do as a reminder to always be a good boy.” You gesture toward the blackboard. “Write 28 repeated lines of ‘I will respect my teacher at all times’.”

  “Sure.” He quickly answers while reaching down to pull up his trousers.

  “Did I give you permission to re-dress?” You disapprovingly question.

  “No, Miss…” He slightly blushes. “But it’s so embarrassing…” He mutters in protest while wobbling toward the board. covering himself.

  “That’s the purpose of this punishment, making you so humiliated and disheveled that you will never forget your lesson.”

   Hendery sighs while picking up the chalk, and starts scribbling down the requested line. The first ten lines look passable but after that, his writing begins to get sloppy.

  “Rewrite this.” You erase the line that you deem intolerable.

  “But-”

  “No ‘buts’, unless you want some thrashing again.”

  Your schoolboy groans but still has no choice but to comply, peeking at the board eraser in your hand while making efforts to win your approval. Finally, he reaches the 28th line without the need for you to demand him to rewrite anything.

  “Well done, that’s my good boy.” You continue to compliment his obedience and hard work, embracing him while massaging some cool lotion into his still rosy ass, before helping him to re-dress.

  “Do you like my way of discipline?”

  “A lot. But you hit me so hard…” He jokingly glares before nuzzling against the crook of your neck, planting some wet kisses on it.

  “I am already giving you enough privilege to suck my tits for this long, so be grateful.” He whines in response upon hearing this but holds on you even tighter, while subtly grinding against your chest.

  “Happy birthday.” You utter affectionately, completely immersed in the intimacy while sensing his gorgeous features beaming in return.

  “Happy Teacher’s Day.”

[nblesbianbenhanscom]

43+45 for kaspbroughzier or streddie

anon! hello! a million years later, and your fic is ready! are you even still here? i hope so ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

*

i had to go with the kasproughzier cause i love those goofs and also sonia is the perfect no, really you don’t want to meet my family.

the prompts were ‘trust me, you don’t want to meet my family’ + ‘you may technically be an adult, but you are still my child.’

***

read it on ao3

Little Dashes of Doom

“Eh-Eddie, your phone is r-ringing,” Bill says. It’s the tenth time in the last half hour.

“Just turn it off, Bill. I’m not going to answer it.” Eddie doesn’t look up from his computer.

“Buh-But it’s your ma.”

“I know, Bill. I already told her when I was coming home. She can chill.” He sounds tired, and Bill just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and make him relax between him and Richie. This semester had really kicked all of their asses.

Bill watches the phone as it stops ringing. It dings a moment later with a voicemail. Bill picks it up and turns it off. He kisses Eddie’s hair as he sits it on the table next to him.

“H-How’s the puh-aper coming?” Bill asks as he opens up the fridge. Bill himself had just finished his own last final just a few hours before.

“I hate fucking Shakespeare,” Eddie growls.

“Th-That good, eh?”

Eddie doesn't respond while Bill looks through the fridge. He finds a beer and heads to the couch where Richie is playing on their shared Switch. His legs are spread awkwardly, one up and over the back of the couch, the other hanging down by the floor. Bill sits in between his legs, pulling Richie’s leg into his lap.

“Hey, babycakes, you ok?” Richie asks without looking up.

“I’m ok.” Bill takes a sip of his beer. “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Shit! I just fucking died!” He sighs and lets the Switch fall to his chest. “What are we doing for food?”

“We have l-leftover p-pizza,” Bill says.

Groaning, Richie sits up and tugs himself closer to Bill with his legs. He leans close and kisses Bill’s neck.

“I am so tired of pizza.” Richie scrapes his teeth against Bill’s chin. “Maybe I’ll just have you for dinner. How does that sound?” They giggle and Eddie huffs from the kitchen.

“Ugh, rude of you to start without me,” Eddie grouses, but there’s no real heat to his words.

Bill and Richie giggle again.

“S-Sorry, E-Eddie!”

“We were just discussing dinner.” Richie kisses Bill’s neck again.

Giggling, Bill pushes him away. “Shhh… St-Stop.”

Richie just pulls him closer and they giggle again.

“If I fail my final, it will be all your faults!” Eddie yells.

“Wh-What d-do you want for d-dinner?” Bill asks.

Eddie is silent for a minute. “Surprise me.”

Bill turns and kisses Richie. “We’re guh–nna go p-pick up dinner.”

“We are?” Richie asks. Bill nods. He holds his hand out and Richie takes it. They go to the door, tug on their coats and boots. It’s cold outside, but Bill just holds tightly to Richie’s hand.

“Where to, Big B?” Richie asks after they’ve climbed in the car.

Bill shrugs. “I don’t care.” He thinks for a minute. “Wh-Where do you—”

“I already told you what I wanted.” Richie winks.

Leaning back against the passenger seat headrest, Bill smiles at him. “Ok, b-but like a-actual food, Richie.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Richie says. They talk for a few more minutes and end up going to the local diner. They get pancakes, fries, salad, and pie. Sometimes Eddie has trouble eating when he’s stressed, and they want to make sure to get him something he’ll eat.

When they get back, Eddie’s computer and his books are in a neat stack. The bathroom door is closed and they can hear him screaming at someone.

“I am working on my finals, mommy!” Eddie screams. Richie and Bill hesitate in the doorway. They look at each other but creep in. It’s been a while since Eddie had gone off like this. When they’d first met him a few years back, he’d yelled a lot more. Richie liked to tease that he was a feral chihuahua until Eddie’d absolutely lost it and tried to beat Richie up. It hadn’t gone well; Richie was so much taller than him and he had just pulled him into a hug, apologies sliding off his tongue. He promised to never do it again. After that, there were less and less explosions until there were none.

“No! No! You listen! I’m doing my work. I’ll be home in three days. Three! You have my–” Eddie pauses. “Please, would you just–”

Richie puts the food on the table and Bill clears away Eddie’s school work.

“God damnit, mom! They are not my roommates, they are my boyfriends. We have been over and over–” Another pause. “Well maybe I won’t come home then!” There’s another pause followed by a loud banging sound and then Eddie begins to sob.

Bill and Richie look at each other as they sit there listening to Eddie cry and yell at himself. Bill can’t quite make out everything he’s saying, but he knows it’s not good. He hears things like pussy, and coward, and little bitch. Things that he’d been told his whole life. Things Bill had thought he’d worked through.

Bill had apparently been wrong.

“I’m gonna go get him,” Richie says, and gets up. Bill catches his hand, and shakes his head. They sigh.

“Wuh–ne m-more m-minute.” He swallows hard. Richie sits back down slowly. Bill hates this just as much as Richie, but he doesn’t want to push Eddie too hard.

Slowly, Eddie’s sobs lessen. Bill wants to get up and go to him, but still he hesitates. Richie leans into his space and rests his head on Bill’s shoulder.

“Can we go get him now?” Richie asks.

Bill licks his lips. He’s about to say yes when they hear the bathroom door open, and Eddie sees them as soon as he looks up.

“Oh,” he says softly. His eyes are red and puffy. He swallows hard several times. “I-I–” And then tears fill his eyes, and his face crumbles, and Richie and Bill go to him, pull him close and let him cling to them as he cries.

“It’s ok, Eddie, we’ve got you,” Richie murmurs into his hair. “We’ve got you.”

“L-Let it out, b-baby,” Bill whispers.

Eddie’s fingers dig into Bill’s shirt as he sobs. His whole body is shaking and Bill wishes he could find Sonia Kaspbrak and give her a piece of his mind, but he tries to push these thoughts away as he kisses Eddie’s hair.

They sit on the couch, and it takes a long time for Eddie to calm down. Even after he’s stopped crying, he still clings to them. He whines when Richie pulls away.

“I’ll be back, my love, just going to get you some water,” Richie says as Eddie grips his shirt hem.

“But I–” Eddie’s hoarse, and Bill can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I-It w-will help,” Bill says. He reaches out and pulls Eddie’s hand free. “It will help.” Slowly, Eddie lets go and lets Bill lace their fingers together. He leans back into Bill and closes his eyes.

After Eddie drinks his water, he looks around at them with heavy sad eyes. He’s cradled between them, both of them pushing into his space.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

“What for, love?” Richie asks. He strokes Eddie’s hair, kisses his temple.

“Because I–Because I’m such a freaking mess,” Eddie whispers.

“Yo-You’re n-not a m-mess.” Bill kisses Eddie behind his ear and Eddie’s eyelashes flutter a little.

“Your mom is a fucking cunt,” Richie says.

Bill frowns at him. Eddie usually freaks whenever someone says something bad about his mom.

“Yeah, she is,” Eddie says. 

Bill and Richie make shocked noises. Bill squeezes him.

“I’m just so tired of her. She’s...” His voice waivers and takes a deep breath. “I have to use the bathroom.” Eddie gives them each a kiss before he gets up.

Once the door is closed, Richie looks at Bill, scowling.

“What the fuck is that bitch’s problem?” Richie growls.

“I d-don’t kn-know.” Bill sighs. He scoots closer to Richie. “I h-hate her so much. It’s been s-such a l-long t-time si-since–”

“Yeah, he’s been doing so good.” Richie huffs. “I just wish I could meet that bitch just one time so I could–”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet my mom,” Eddie says. Richie and Bill jump, neither of them had heard the toilet flush. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

Sharing glances, Richie and Bill get up and follow Eddie into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table, pulling the food out of the bag and frowns at the fries.

“Aww, fuck, they’re cold.” Eddie’s lip trembles a little. “I’m sorry. I should have waited to call. I just finished my final and I–”

“N-No, b-baby. It’s ok. Th-The fries w–ill heat up,” Bill says.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. “That’s why God invented microwaves, right?” He picks up the container and throws it in, pushing buttons quickly. “See? It’s fine.”

Sniffling, Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Nuked fries taste so gross.”

“I think we got some cheese and Ranch. That will help.” Richie goes to the fridge as Eddie looks at the rest of the food and looks up at Bill.

“You two are the best, do you know that?” Eddie asks. Richie kisses his hair as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“N-No you,” Bill says.

Wrapping his fingers around Richie’s forearms, Eddie kisses his inner arm. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you, too.” Richie pulls away as the microwave beeps.

After they eat, they curl up on the couch to watch TV. They’re all crossed limbs and elbows in stomachs and pulled hair, but they don’t really care. Eddie just lets the others hold him close, pet his hair, kiss him.

“Are you doing better?” Richie asks after a bit. Eddie shrugs.

“Wh-What happened?” Bill asks.

Eddie shrugs again. “Just the usual. I finished my paper like right after you left, so I decided to call her before she called the police like she did that one time, and she said since I was done with my finals that I needed to come home right away. When I said I want to stay with you two, that my ticket is nonrefundable or exchangeable, she said she didn’t care about the cost, that she’d pay and…” He sighs. “She just wouldn’t listen. She kept saying, ‘You may be an adult, but you’re still my child.’” He huffs. “I’ve been financially independent from that old bag for over a year. She has no right to say shit like that to me any more.”

“N-No, she doesn’t,” Bill agrees.

“Honestly, she never should have talked to you that way, ever,” Richie says. Eddie leans a little closer to him. He plays with the strings on Bill’s hoodie.

“I know,” Eddie whispers.

Bill can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His heart fills with pride and he pulls Eddie’s legs into his lap and cups Eddie’s face in his hands before kissing him so, so gently. When they pull apart, Bill pushes his forehead into Eddie’s forehead. 

“L-Love you,” Bill whispers. When he pulls back, Richie presses his own kiss into Eddie’s temple.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Richie says. “You can come home with us.”

“O-Or we c-could go wi-with you,” Bill says.

Eddie shakes his head. “It will be ok.”

Sighing, Richie shakes his head, no. “You shouldn’t have to deal with her alone. Let us come with you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Eddie murmurs.

“Y-You d–idn’t. We’re t-telling you. We’re coming wi–th you,” Bill says. Richie smiles at Bill.

“You really don’t–”

“Eds, you may as well give it up. We’re coming with you, and if your mom can’t deal, well, fuck her, and we’ll leave early.” Richie pauses. “In fact, plan on it. We’ll all have to change our tickets, call our families, but we’ll split up the break evenly. It will be fun.”

“We can’t afford that!” Eddie protests.

“Y-Yes we c-can! I just got p-paid for th–at piece I wrote a why-while back,” Bill says.

“No, Bill, you were going to use that for a new computer!” Eddie says.

“I’ll j-just st-steal yours.” Bill strokes his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie murmurs, but there’s a small smile on my face. He sighs and leans into Richie. “You guys are the best, do you know that?”

“N-No, you.” Bill laces their fingers together.

“Yeah, spaghetti, you’re the best.” Richie kisses his hair.

Eddie closes his eyes, and settles back.

“We d-don’t have to m-make any d-decisions tonight,” Bill says. “W-We can t-talk t-tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Eddie says. He sighs again and sits up. “You guys wanna do something?”

“Like what?” Richie asks.

“Play Mario Kart?”

“Only if you don't cry when I kick your butt!" Richie says as he pulls himself free and gets up to set up the Switch. Eddie scoots around and leans into Bill's side.

"Yeah, we'll see who cries, Tozier!" Eddie teases.

Bill knows it is a toss-up between the two; they are both really good. It's Bill that's going to be the loser, but he doesn't really care. He's terrible at video games, but he loves being with his boyfriends. 

He sits there listening to them argue about who is the worst player and waits to be handed a controller. He loves listening to them bicker like this, and he knows Eddie bickering is a good sign. Licking his lips, Bill leans into Eddie, eyes closed for a moment. 

"You ok, Bill?" Eddie asks as Richie's attention falters. He's fighting with the cords and cursing under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm good." Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Love you so much."

Eddie squeezes his hand. "Love you."

"Got it!" Richie says triumphantly. He tosses a couple of controllers at them and sits near the TV. "You two losers ready?"

"Shut up, buttmunch," Eddie says. "Get ready to eat my dust!"

"Bring it!" Richie says. 

Bill struggles with his controller and gets settled. He knows the next couple of weeks are going to be hard. Eddie had agreed tonight that they would change their winter break plans, but that doesn't mean that it isn't going to be a struggle. He knows Eddie wants to break free, but Bill knows it isn’t easy; Sonia has a firm grip on her son.

Bill is not looking forward to the back and forth that is inevitably coming, but he decides there is no point in worrying about that now. Right now, Eddie is happy, Eddie is safe, and the three of them are going to have a good night. Tomorrow is future Bill’s problem, and tonight all he has to worry about is not driving the wrong way on the track. He knows everything will be ok.

[cant-see-sam]

Electric Love pt1

Ok I guess I gotta do something to gain followers

Y/N POV

I never meant to be a mystery, a freak show, I just wanted peace.  For about three years now I have been chased by people in protective suits.  It just so happened that one day at school I blipped out of reality.  I've been isolated ever since.

**Flashback **

'Yet another boring day at middle school.'  I thought as I walked the dull looking halls.  Kids were walking back and  fourth through the corridors.  I spot my friend in the cafeteria.  I call their  name but they don't respond.  A plot pops into my head as I walk up to them.  I slow my pace and attempt to doge all the other kids.  I creep behind them and place my hands on their shoulders.  "Boo!"  They jump really hard and snap their head back to.  "Ow!  What the heck Y/N!"  I roll my eyes and sit down next to them.  "Stop complaining, it didn't hurt that much"  they rub their shoulder.  "No, it felt like an electric shock"  They pull down their sleeve to reveal a red mark spreading across their skin.  "Woah, we should get you to the nurse"  I grab their bag and help them up.  They give a small thanks and start walking.

We get to the nurses office and knock on the door.  A muffled "come in"  rings through.  We walk into the sterile room.  Bright lights shine down on the white floors almost blinding me.  "What can I do for y'all?"  The nurse, Ms. Prior asks.  I came here a lot in sixth grade so we got to know each other well.  We approach the desk and tell her what happened.  She stands up and gets an ice pack for y/f/n while we sit down.  When Ms. Prior walks over she hands my friend the small bag and smiles at them.  She sits back down at her desk and starts typing on her computer.  She takes a small look at me and looks surprised at something.  "Y/N, I thought your eyes were e/c,"  this confused me.  "Yes ma'am, they are, why?"  She simply sighs and hands me a mirror.  I look into it and see an inhumanly gray pair of eyes looking back at me.

We stayed in the nurses office until the bell rang signaling that we were late.  We say goodbye to Ms. Prior as she hands us excuse slips and we make our ways out.  I head into math class while y/f/n goes to science.  I get many stares as I put the small pink slip on the teachers desk and make my way to my seat.  

The day goes on while I try not to touch anyone.  I still bump into people in the halls though.  They seem to almost cry out in pain when I slightly brush them.  I always apologize and try to avoid anyone else.  Afterwards I see them at the office.

'At last, home'  I think as I walk into the familiar building.  I say hi to Gurtude the desk lady.  I walk up a the stairs and pull out my set of apartment keys.  My mom is waiting on the other side when I walk in.  "Y/N,"  she says in a dangerous tone.  "Come here."  I do as she says, afraid of what to come.  "I got a call from your school today, they said that you were hurting kids."  "No, ma'am, they were just accidents". I knew that  it was pointless to argue but I try anyways.  "That many?"  I look down in shame.  I couldn't help it, I always feel a small weight in my chest when I get lectured.  "Look at me when I speak to you"  I look up at her, making eye contact.  She gasps.   "Your not my daughter"  She murmured "W-what?"  I stutter out.  She grabs my chin and starts examining my face.  Her nails dig painfully into my skin. "Mom! It's me! Stop!" I try to get her to stop.  I grab her arm and she shrieks.  She pulls it out of my grasp.  The same red mark that was on y/f/n shoulder was on her wrist.  Tears well up in my eyes when she grabs her phone and taps the buttons that beep three times.  It rings a few times when the person on the other side picks up.  A muffled "nine, one, one, what's your emergency?"  When I heard those words I sprinted out the door.  Down the stairs and out the doors of the apartment.

End of flashback.

Here I am now, three years later,  hiding out in an abandoned house.  I was only thirteen when I left.  It was for the better.  Now I can't hurt anyone else.  I've learned to control the shocks a little more.  I've practiced on myself to control the pain and power of the shock.  I also learned how to shut off the power all together, the only thing that never changes is the horrific color of my eyes.

I was sat down on the floor shocking my arm.  Whenever I did this I would slowly increase the pain.  Starting with the kind of shock that normal people get after going down a slide, to the shock that you feel when you touch an electric wire, to the type where you feel like you got touched by a taser.   I've desensitized myself to it, it doesn't even hurt anymore.

This went on when I heard a pounding on my door.  The men.  I've had to switch my location so many times because of them.  I grab my scuffed up backpack and run to the window.  I open it up and start creeping along the side of the building.  I get to an emergency exit and start climbing down the ladder.  Every time I move I plan out an escape route.  I'm very careful to make sure I always ended up somewhere hidden.  Apparently I wasn't as careful this time because when I reach the small secret ally I planned to hide there were more.  Some dressed in white lab coats, holding clipboards, looking up at me eagerly.  Others were dressed in protective armor and helmets.  One person caught my eye though, a young boy dressed in jeans and a green collared shirt with a lab coat on the outside.  He seemed to be my age, when we made eye contact the world around me seemed to freeze.  'No' I think.  'You can't be distracted by another thing right now'  I snap out of my thoughts and hop down cautiously.  Everyone just stares at me, not knowing what to do.  

A small smile creeps on my face as a plan forms in my head.  I tilt it to the side, to look like I was surveying them.  "Hey!  Good to see you guys again"  I say in a way that I was sure to catch them off guard.  'Now!'  I think, sprinting out of the small alleyway.  Into the streets.  I follow where my feet take me and keep running.  I start to slow down after a while.  I've lost them.  Or at least that's what I thought until a hand grabs my arm.

My head snaps around to be met with a pair of sorrowful blue eyes.  It's the same kid from before. I wanted to shock him but I couldn't find the strength in me to do it.  Something inside me stops me from doing it.  I look down in his other hand and see a small syringe with a clear liquid inside.  A tranquilizer.  "Please don't do this." I whisper.  "I'm sorry"  he whispers back.  His voice is calm but frantic at the same time.  He has a smooth British accent that calms me down in a way.  He slowly lifts the needle up to my neck.  I try to wiggle my arm out of his grasp.  But it's no use, it's too tight.  I feel a small pinch in my neck as he pushes the liquid in.  I hear voices from behind us.  The kid talks to me as the world starts to spin.  I stop resisting and turn to meet him all the way.  He puts the syringe in his pocket and holds my other arm, keeping me steady.  The last thing I hear before I black out was another voice saying.  "Good job Toby!"

Toby's POV.  A few hours earlier.

My best friend runs through the halls of the foundation his lab coat flying behind him.  His blonde hair is messy and he looks exited.  "Toby!"  he runs up to me and bends over to catch his breath.  "Wil- Wilbur wants you in the garage.  He-"  he pants, trying to finish his sentence.  "He says he has something he wants you to see."  I put my arm on his shoulder.  "go get some water Tommy, I'll go see what he wants."  he nods and runs off into the break room.  I go in the opposite direction.

The garage is a big open room with vans lined up in a neat row.  On the side there are cages for the more dangerous SCPs.  Wilbur is leaning up against a medium sized van.  "Toby, your finally here, did Tommy tell you why your here?"  I shook my head.   "No"  He sighs,  "of course.  Get in the van, I'll explain on the way."   He opens the door to the drivers seat and I get into the passengers.

Wilbur keeps his eyes on the two vans in front of us as he speaks.  "Okay, so, you read the papers on T- 4350, right?"  "Yeah"  T - 4350 is a humanoid who has electric properties.  We don't know too much about it.  Just that every time we are about to catch it, it always finds a way out.  Granted, we would always have too little security.  "Well," Wilbur continues "We got a call talking about someone matching it's description."  "And how do I fit into all this?"  Wilbur taps fingers on the wheel.  "From what we've gathered it seems to be your age.  We thought you, being the calmest of our two juniors, can help distract it."  "Ah"  I guess I'm doing this.

After a few hours we pull up to an abandoned building near the side of the highway.  It looks like it was falling apart.  With rotting wood and some missing bricks.  Definitely the perfect place for someone trying to hide.  We hop out of the van and walk up to the security guards waiting by the side of the building.  We determined that me, Wilbur and the other scientists will wait with some guards at the point where we estimate it uses to come and go while everyone else goes into the apartment.

We wait in the dusty ally for the SCP to be flushed out.  I'm looking around and fiddling with my lab coat when Wilbur taps my arm.  "Look!"  I look to where he's pointing and see a girl climbing down the ladder.  She has a black backpack with some patches hanging off.  Her t-shirt,  jeans and beat up high tops seem ratty.  As she climbs down I take note of her y/h/c pulled back into a high ponytail.  She looks behind her and sees us.  Me, to be exact.  Her eyes are a piercing gray.  She looks scared, dazed, almost.  I couldn't imagine being her, running away from her problems at such a young age.  She steps off the ladder.  A calm demeanor taking over her face.  She breaks a small grin while she looks around at us.  "Hey!  Good to see you guys again!"  She says.  I look at Wilbur.  He seems shocked.

 While we all stare at her I understand what she's trying to do.  I slowly take the pack of tranquilizers from Wilbur's pocket.  I take a syringe from the box.  All of a sudden she takes off running.  I chase after her.  My feet hit the cement hard as I run.  Without thinking I reach out and grab her arm.  She turns to me.  She looks even more beautiful up close.  She sounds terrified when she whispers, "please don't do this."  It almost pains me to respond.  "I'm sorry"  I move my hand up, holding the tranquilizer up to her neck.  Just as it touches her skin she starts to pull her arm.  I keep my grip on her tight though, it's for the best.  I'm surprised she hasn't shocked me yet.  I push the plunger down.  Almost instantly, she starts to calm down.  Facing me fully, she grabs my other arm. I keep my hands under her elbows.  For a second I thought she was going to hurt me but I figured she was too weak to do so.  Instead, she puts all her weight on me.  She almost falls when I hear Wilbur speak behind me.  "Good job Toby!"

Wilbur grabs her from my arms and carries her to one of the cages.  We load her into the van and drive back to the foundation.

Y/N's POV

The first thing I feel when I wake up is a pounding headache.  The blinding lights above me don't help.  I sit up in the small bed I'm laying in and look around.  The first thing I noticed was a giant window. It took up a whole chunk of the wall.  Next to the bed is a small table with drawers.  Theres a table in front of me and a sink to my right.  I do notice a door on the far side of the room. I'm still in my clothes from before.  I throw my legs across the bed and stand up to look for a way out.  I run my hands along the walls.

I continue doing so until I hear a click and a hiss coming from the wall with the door.  I frantically search for what I did until I hear a deep voice coming from behind me.  "Hello 4350, I'm Eret.  I wouldn't try looking for a way out, there is none."  I turn around.  "Okay, first off what did you call me? And second, back the frick up."  He nods head and comes closer.  "Ah, you have some sass.  We can fix that." I put my hand up to seem like I will do something.  I've experimented with my lightning, but never mastered it.  "I said, back up"  even closer.  I try to concentrate all my energy to my hand.  All of a sudden a bright light explodes from my it.  Yes!  I wasn't trying to hurt him, just rock his boat a little.  The light is cut short.

 I see the man, Eret, I think it was.  I saw Eret standing in front of me, unfazed.  He twitches his head and two guards storm the room.  They grab my arms.  Eret walks closer to me and sticks his finger under my chin.  "You won't try that again, do you understand me?"  I don't respond, just tilt my head down and try to bite him.  He pulls his finger away and laughs.  "I'll get something out of you soon sweetheart."  He walks out, his hands behind his back.  The guards walk out soon after him.

For the next few weeks many doctors come in to ask me questions.  Some stay where they are, others get too close for comfort, ending with them getting a small shock.  Not enough to leave a mark, just a warning.  I could tell I was beating them down.  I might have a chance of escaping.

The days were mostly the same, wake up, get served my "breakfast", if you could even call it that.  Next some doctors would come in and ask me questions.  I try to keep it as vague as possible, just to tick them off.  They would try at that for a while, until they realize that it was futile.  I got lunch and dinner somewhere in between all that.  It was like that.  Day, after day, after day.  But today, instead of sending in some doctors they sent in the boy from before, and another.

"Hey,"  the brunette said in a soft voice.  I can feel myself shrink back against the wall.  I got that feeling, the one I had when I first got caught.  Like I wasn't, no, couldn't hurt him.  "Hey, it's me, do you remember me?  I'm Toby, this is my friend Tommy,"  he points to the blonde behind him.  He gives an awkward wave.  I giggle softly at his actions.  "Yeah, that's it.  we're not going to hurt you"  I look back at Toby.  "That's what they all say"  He laughs at this.  "Yeah, I know, I've seen."  He takes a step closer.  Keeping eye contact with me.  When he sees that I don't react he steps even closer.  I thought he was going to come even closer, but he just sits down.  He look back at Tommy and waves him over.  When he sits down next to Toby I slide down the wall.  "Can you tell us about yourself?"  I nod my head.  "Good, what's your name?"  His soft tone convinces me to talk.  "Y/N"  he smiles.  "That's a beautiful name, how old are you?"  "Sixteen,"  his smile gets even wider.  "Same, can you tell us when you ran away?"  "Three years ago"  he nods his head.  "That was very brave, why did you do it?"  "My mom called the cops on me"  "I'm so sorry"

Everyday Toby and Tommy come in.  Everyday they would get a little closer.  And everyday, I let them.  I knew that they wouldn't hurt me.  I trusted them.  We got so far that we shared a group hug.  They have truly became my best friends in this period.  Toby would stay a little longer than Tommy though.  Sometimes he would even be there until I fell asleep in the bed.  Sometimes he would sneak me some food from the lounge.  He makes being here livable.  Not nice, no, never nice, but livable.

One morning I woke up to Eret in my room.  I immediately sat up.  "What are you doing here?"  He chuckles.  "Come with me"  I rolled my eyes and followed him.  Bad idea.  When I walk outside my cell I get swarmed by guards.  I can tell this isn't good.  I'm walked to a bigger room where I'm strapped down on a table.  "What's going on?"  I'm being hooked up to all these machines.  A doctor grabs my arm.  I try to shock them but they don't react.  Stupid protective suits.  The doctor hold my wrist down while he sticks a needle in.  He squeezes the bag it's attached to and I start to feel woozy.  The last thing I see is Eret standing above me.  "Goodnight Y/N"

Toby's POV

Tommy and I walk through the halls over to Y/N's cell.  We've made so much progress with her.  I just can't understand that feeling I get in my stomach when I talk to her.  It feels like my heart just flutters.

I walk past the other cells and over to hers.  I feel the snickers bar in my pocket hit my leg while I walked.  It was her favorite.  I brought her one every morning.  I see Tommy run past me.  He stops at her cell and yells my name.  "Toby, you might want to come see this!"  I pick up my pace and make my way to her cell.  I look through the window.  It was empty.  "No way"  I walk into decontamination and into her room.  "Y/N!?"  "It isn't here"  I hear a deep voice behind me.  Eret's voice.  I  turn around.  "What did you do to her?"  "It, Toby, it"   I feel anger bubble up inside me.  I see Tommy walk in.  Eret spins around to see him.  "Ah, perfect.  Boys, I will need you to come with me."  He says calmly.  "Not before you tell me where she is."  He laughs.  "IT.  You've gotten too attached to it"  

We follow Eret through the foundation.  We are led to a room without cameras.  Guards force us sit down and makes sure we stay down.  Eret walks to the side of the room.  He grabs a small syringe with a purple liquid in it.  "I'm so sorry it had to be like this boys, but it must be done."   He walks up to Tommy.  He uses his hand to push his head up.  "Eret?  What is that?"  Tommy asks frantically.  "Just some memory serum, don't worry though, you won't remember a thing"

He comes to me next.  I feel tears well up in my eyes.  "Eret!  How could you?  I've worked with you for hours!"  He sighs and pushes my head to the side.  "It was never meant to be"  he pushes the plunger and my mind went blank...

[fearfulkittenwrites]

“Just a normal night”

Inspired by @s-mscott​ - link for the art, please check it out!

Word count: 2832

Notes: HEY. THIS IS JUST BEEN SITTING ON MY FILES FOR THE LONGEST TIME AND I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT DKJFHAKJHAKJDFH. Anyway, it's a long time coming. The writing probs isn't as neat or as good as the latest uploads bc of that, but... idk. Hopefully it's good! I couldn't bring myself to edit it again, sorry about that. I hope you can enjoy it anyways and please go check out the artist, @s-mscott​!

“Guys?” Dick asked, on his tiptoes as he rummaged through every cabinet in the huge kitchen “Hey are we out of cereal? I can’t find my Lucky Charms anywhere.”

“I think so.” Jason answered “I ate the last of the Lucky Charms last night.”

“Yep.” Tim said, popping the ‘p’ as he slid through the countertop, landing a bit behind Dick “I had the last of the frosted flakes two days ago.”

“Froot Loops?” Dick asked.

“I had those.” Duke answered “Sorry.”

“Fruity Pebbles?”

 Cass raised her hand, looking at the ground.

“Reese’s Puffs?”

“I finished the box yesterday.” Damian announced, crossing his arms as he leaned against the marble sink.

“Damn.” Dick murmured and pouted as he closed the cabinet’s door “I’ve been craving cereal today.”

“We can always go get some.” Jason shrugged.

“At three in the morning?” Duke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Actually, four.” Jason corrected, putting up a finger “And yeah, why not? I mean, we had a hard patrol tonight, and if Dick wants some cereal, I say let’s go get some cereal.”

“It’s four in the morning, Todd.” Damian said.

“I mean, the closest Walmart is open 24/7.” Tim interfered.

“You can’t be seriously considering this, Grayson.” Damian frowned at his older brother.

“Why not? I’m not sleepy anyways.” Dick crossed his arms and shrugged.

“Yes!” Jason hissed “Late night adventures with the baby bats. Let’s roll!” He clapped his hands once, and started to walk out of the kitchen, his siblings following him to the garage.

“Oh wait!” Dick said “Let’s ring up Bruce and see if there’s anything else we need.”

“Bold of you to assume he’d know what we need.” Tim interfered.

“Yeah, well, it’s worth a shot. Plus, do any of us really want to wake up Alfred to ask him?” Dick said, taking his communicator out of his pocket and placing it in his ear “B? Have a sec?” He asked

“Nightwing. What’s wrong?” Came the answer, Batman’s raspy voice flowing through the device.

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. We’re going to take a quick trip to the supermarket, I wanted to ask if you need anything.”

“... At four in the morning?”

“Yeah. Do you need anything?”

Bruce sighed.

“We’re running out of the coffee blend that Tim likes. Alfred the cat’s favorite treats have been gone since last week, and Cass’ favorite ice cream is done. Oh, buy Duke that soda he likes, I drank the last can. Also, Jason’s cookies and that brand of chips you like, we ran out of those. Oh, and buy something with Iron in it, I’m worried that Damian might not be getting enough.”

“Like spinach?” Dick said, writing it down on his phone’s notes.

“Yeah, that’ll do. Ah, and we’re a little low on milk.”

“Okay. Will keep that in mind. Thanks B, have a nice patrol.”

“Please don’t give the papers any headlines.”

“You got it, B. Bye.”

He placed the device back on his pocket.

“Okay, there’s a lot of stuff to buy, so let’s get going. I’ll drive.”

“Shotgun!” Jason yelled.

“We’re taking the S.U.V., one of you will need to ride in the trunk.” Dick said.

“I’ll go.” Cass’ eyes twinkled. No one could understand why she was always so fascinated with the idea of riding in the trunk, but she seemed to find it fun and all of them thought that her excitement was cute.

“Alright then.” Dick smiled, ruffling her hair. Her grin grew wider, and Duke set her hair straight again before they got into the car.

“Hey, can I play my music?” Tim asked from the backseat.

“Don’t force us to listen to the atrocity Drake calls music, Grayson.” Damian complained, arms crossed “Let me play something.”

“Uh, I’d rather not listen to Mozart and Bach while we’re in the car.” Duke protested.

“It’s called classic for a reason, Thomas.”

“Doesn’t matter, bat-brat.” Jason said “I’m with him on this one. Besides, universal car rules, shotgun DJ’s.”

“Since when?” Tim asked.

“Since now.” Jason said, plugging his phone in.

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Dick took the cord from him “According to ‘Supernatural’ rules, ‘Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole’. So that’s mine.”

“No one else watches this show Dickhead!” Jason pulled the cord back.

“Doesn’t matter, because I’m older!” Dick pulled it back again.

“Age is just a number!” Tim pushed himself to the front seat and took the cord back.

“Great point Drake!” Damian pulled him back by his waist, stealing the cord from him too.

“Hey, stop with the fuss, I’m gonna crash the car!” Dick said.

“Maybe we should just play Beyoncé...” Duke suggested. The car went silent for a while.

“Okay.” Dick said “Put on ‘Single Ladies’.”

“No. ‘Halo’ is her best.” Damian complained.

“Uhm, no way? I’m playing ‘Drunk in Love’, and that’s it.” Tim shot back.

“Are you crazy? Play ‘Formation’.” Duke interfered.

“I like ‘Run the World’...” Cass said quietly from the trunk.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim murmured “We’ll play that.”

The girl smiled as the first notes from the song filled the car.

There weren’t many cars in the parking lot, which was expected. They picked up two carts, and Dick hopped inside the one Jason was pushing.

“Dude!” Duke started “You’re in your mid-twenties!”

“Leave me alone, I nearly sprained my ankle today.” Dick stuck his tongue out. No one else questioned anything beyond that. The employees simply sighed, used to the two older brothers and their antics.

“Hey Parker.” Jason greeted the nighttime security guard.

“Hey. I see you two brought the whole gang tonight.” He answered.

“Yup.” Dick smiled.

“So this is a regular thing for the two of you?” Duke asked.

“Are you really surprised, Duke?” Tim shot back.

“No. Not really.”

“Okay. First stop, Bruce said we need to get Tim’s coffee.” Dick exclaimed, looking at the list.

Jason led the way, Dick grinning like a child on the cart, Cass quietly following as she pushed their second cart, Duke making friendly conversation with her while Tim and Damian kept bickering right behind them.

“Oh, wait!” Dick held on to the metal bars “We’re right next to the cookies and Bruce said we’re out of your favorites, Jay.” He looked up.

“Alright, a little detour then.” Jason turned them around, quickly grabbing his treats “Anyone wants anything else from this aisle?”

“But... We don’t need anything else from the aisle.” Duke pointed out.

“Um, we have a billionaire’s credit card?” Tim said “Bruce won’t freak out if we buy a few extra things.”

“Uuuh, they have those koala shaped cookies!” Dick hopped out of the cart “How many do I get?”

“I want one.” Cass said.

“Chocolate or strawberries?”

“Uh… I want both.” She answered.

“Okay, one each for the lady, two strawberries for me...”

“I want a chocolate one.” Tim said.

“Me too.” Damian asked.

“Oh, just take twenty boxes, ten of each flavor.” Jason interfered, dumping them on Cass’ cart “We’ll share later.”

“Oh my God, those are expensive!” Duke said, exasperated.

“Yeah. So?” Jason shot back.

“Bruce is a billionaire, bro. He won’t mind.” Dick said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, it’s easy for you guys to say it. You grew up like that. It’s kinda hard to accept this when you aren’t used to having so much.” Duke answered, scratching his neck.

“Hey, I get that feeling lil’ bro.” Jason tapped his back “I spent my childhood in Gotham’s streets.”

“Yeah. I mean, I grew up in the circus. I wasn’t used to the idea of getting brand new stuff instead of asking for hand-me-downs from our friends whenever I grew out of my clothes.” Dick interfered.

“But... Just think about it like this.” Jason got closer to him “We now can get everything we couldn’t in the past.”

Duke frowned. Jason nodded encouragingly.

“That... Doesn’t help.”

“I tried.” Jason shrugged. Dick hopped back in the cart “To the coffee aisle!” He exclaimed, pushing his brother around.

“Hang on.” Tim said “This is where they leave the energy drinks. Let me take some.”

“Why do you insist on drinking this crap, Drake?” Damian scowled, reading the label in one of the cans “If you have such a death wish, jumping in front of a train is a much cheaper, quicker alternative.”

“Shut up, little devil.” Tim picked up cans from his favorite brand.

“Jason, push me a little farther down the aisle, please.” Dick asked “They keep their iced teas over there.”

“Ugh, Grayson, you disgust me.” Damian rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so judgemental Lil’ D.” He smiled, being pushed away by Jason.

As they examined the cans, Dick noticed he had attracted the looks of a middle aged man, a couple of steps from them. He was staring at his hoodie, that contained the frase ‘I love dick’ printed on it.

“Oh,” He exclaimed, smiling at the guy “My name is Richard. That’s why it’s funny.” The man nodded “I’m also queer as fuck, so that makes it better.” He added nonchalantly, and the man’s eyes widened “Okay Jay, I picked up all I wanted, let’s go back.”

“Alright you little shits, back to the coffee quest.” Jason said, leading the way once again. This time, they finally made it to the coffee aisle. Tim crouched down, looking for his favorite blend.

Cass got a little curious once she laid eyes on a colorful package on the top shelf. She picked it up and handed it to Dick.

“Read. Please.”

“This is an espresso roast. Here it says that it has notes of strawberry? Vanilla and... Sugar cane. Colombian coffee. Seems nice. Wanna take it?”

“Yes.” She nodded. Dick dropped it on his cart.

Cass wandered away, still looking at all of the coffee blends.

“Hey girlie,” A guy whistled at her, next to his group of friends “Nice ass.”

She squinted at them.

“Yo, asshole!” Tim screamed, getting their attention “That’s our sister!” He threw a bag of coffee beans at the guy’s face, causing his nose to bleed.

“Hey, who do you think you are?” One of them started to walk up to her brothers. Cass could tell that he wanted trouble, so she grabbed his arm and slammed his face against the shelf, so quickly and brutally that it barely budged, leaving the products unbothered, but the guy fell to the floor, disoriented. She stared at him.

“We are Waynes.” Damian answered, pacing towards them quietly, hands on his pockets “I suggest you apologize immediately for the troubles, if you wouldn’t want to get a hefty lawsuit for your harrasment.”

“Uh, sorry bro.” One of them started, a little scared “We didn’t-”

“Not to me.” He interrupted “To her.”

“We’re sorry, miss Wayne.” All of them mumbled.

“Now promise you won’t do it again.” Damian added.

“We won’t do it again.” They started at the floor, next to where their fallen friend laid down.

“Good.” He squinted “Help your friend up, and get out of my sight.”

They did as they were told, helping his friend walk straight again. As Cass headed back, Dick gently touched her arm, looking up at her.

“Hey, are you alright?” She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He smiled back.

“Does this happen often?” Jason asked.

“Sometimes.” She shrugged “But they always say sorry after I break their nose.”

“Ayy, that’s our girl.” Jason praised “Alright, we got the coffee. Where to next?”

“Let’s see... Next item is Alfred the cat’s treats.” Dick said.

“Ha!” Damian laughed loudly “As if Alfred would eat the... peasant treats that this store offers. No. I’ve already bought the adequate brand from an online shop.”

“Okay...” Dick raised an eyebrow “Then... Cass’ ice cream is next, but I think we should leave that as the last item, so it won’t melt, which leads us to Duke’s soda because Bruce had the last can.”

“Let’s go then. I think that the cereal aisle is on the way, so we’ll get that first.” Jason said, pushing the cart around again.

“Which ones do we get?” Tim asked, looking through the shelf.

“Everything that has sugar.” Dick answered. His brother began handing him boxes, when they heard a small whisper.

“Oh my God, are those...?” A girl said to her friend, attracting the eyes of the siblings. The duo averted their gaze quickly. Cass frowned at them.

“Relax.” Jason smiled, placing an arm on her back “They’re probably just... Fans.”

“Fans?” She asked, still staring suspiciously at them.

“Yeah.” Dick shrugged “I mean, we’re not super stars, but we do hit the papers pretty often. A bunch of people know us here in Gotham.” The girls were looking again, and Dick gave them a small wave, making them giggle “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“Hum.”

“Hey there, ladies.” Jason greeted, a cheeky smile on his face “What brings you to this fine establishment tonight?”

“We ran out of energy drinks.” One of them answered “What about you?”

“Cereal.” Dick answered, lifting two boxes. They giggled again.

“Hey, um... can we maybe get a picture?” The girl asked “It’s just that... no one will believe us when we tell them about this.”

“Absolutely not!” Damian answered.

“Nah, don’t listen to the little brat.” Jason said “Go ahead.”

Dick held up the boxes again, smiling as Jason made a ‘crazy’ motion with his hands. Tim turned around as the photo was being taken, turning him into a blurr with tired eyes.

“Can we get some selfies too?” The other one asked, grinning.

“No!” Damian protested again.

“Of course you can!” Dick said “Duke, Cass, come here.” He called.

All of them gathered around the cart Dick was staying at, even Damian. He didn’t look so pleased as the photo was taken, but neither did Cass.

“Thanks. You guys really are nice.” The first girl said.

“Oh, you have no clue on how nice I can be.” Jason winked, making her blush “Tell you what, why don’t I give you my phone number and you can text me those pictures later, hm?”

“Sure.” The girl bit her lips as Jason scribbled his number on her wrist.

“You are such a flirt.” Dick rolled his eyes as the girls walked away.

“What, like you aren’t?” Jason snorted, pushing him away, looking for where they kept the soda.

“I think Cass didn’t like that interaction very much.” Tim whispered to his older brothers, who turned around to find a frowning baby bat. Jason chuckled.

“What’s wrong, sis?” She scowled at him “Oh, c’mon, don’t get jealous.” He threw an arm around her shoulder “You know you’ll always be our number one girl, but a guy has his needs. And sometimes, a guy needs a date.”

Cass pushed him away, rolling her eyes as Duke placed five soda cans on her cart.

“Why would you even drink this sugar filled monstrosity, Thomas?” Damian asked, reading the labels “Grandfather wouldn’t even feed his prisoners something as revolting as this.”

“Because, Bat-brat,” He said “We’re all entitled to enjoy at least one or two things that may ultimately be responsible for our deaths.”

“I suppose.” He murmured, lifting an eyebrow “You make much finer points than the rest of them. Father has been looking for heirs in the least suitable places, I assume.” He clicked his tongue “It’s a good thing I’m here to help.”

“Okay...” Duke answered, raising his eyebrows and averting his gaze. There was only so much strangeness that he could handle.

“Great, now we need to get my chips and spinach.” Dick stated.

“Spinach?” Tim asked “Why spinach?”

“B thinks Damian may have been needing more iron in his diet.” Dick shrugged.

“Aaw.” Tim said “That’s actually kinda cute. Do you think he ever worries about our diets?”

“Don’t be stupid Tim, of course he doesn’t.” Jason answered.

“He does.” Dick shot back “He worries about us, he just... Really, really, really, reaaaally sucks at showing it sometimes.”

“Potatoe, potatoe.” Jason murmured.

“Yeah, whatever. Keep me moving Little Wing, we have stuff to pick up and my tiredness is catching up to me.” Dick pointed forward.

“Sure. But the chips are in the opposite direction.”

“Well turn me around then, do you want me to look like an idiot?” Dick said, a little exasperated.

“I wish you had an off button sometimes.” Jason sighed as he made his way to the chips section.

An employee, mopping the floor with a bored expression, looked up from what he was doing when he saw the Wayne gang talking loudly. Dick tried to control his brothers from inside the cart, and had just told Jason to separate a fight between Tim and Damian. Duke and Cass snicker as they saw a bored, six feet tall Jason pushing his much smaller brothers apart.

“Yep.” The employee murmured to himself “Billionaires shopping at Walmart at four in the morning. Just a normal night.”

Hey! If you made it this far, please consider reblogging this? It helps with spreading my fics and it makes me very happy, hahahaha!

Regardless, thanks for reading <3

[madmadmilk]

One After The One PART 1 | Tom Holland x Reader

Tinder BIO | soft TEASER | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | >>

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: What does one in a million even mean? Does it mean you’re the first of many or the fucking last? Does it mean that you’re somewhere in the middle? And what happens to the poor baby who ends up being the 999,999th one? Or worse, the one after The One? There ought to be some kind of prize for second to last, and second runner up. Especially when being #2 is your specific talent.

Warnings: Cursing, Suspicion, some Hard to Swallow Pills, and a million blurry pics

Word Count: 6.7K swipes left

Special Shoutout: Thank you @hypnotized-so-mesmerized for being a BETA for this chapter and for you lovely input!

-

“I can’t fucking believe you’ve got me fifth wheeling for this….” you sigh, as you blow strands of your hair away from your face. You walk briskly atop of the shifting sand behind your leggy friend.

All 5 foot 10 inches of her shakes with laughter as she watches you trip over yourself. She shrugs, “The more the merrier?”

You roll your eyes, resigning to a smile as she waves back for your hand to hold. You reach out and accept her offer loosely, allowing yourself to be pulled along.

“Come on, the boys are waiting.”

Right.

You watch the festival lights cast a warm glow at the edges of her silhouette. She smiles at you, bronzed, beautiful–– taken.

Over the past year, all your best friends started fucking dating each other.

Leaving you single, alone, and second best.

It wasn’t weird, it wasn’t unnatural–– but it quite literally happened over night. “This” is just your “new normal.”

You all still hung out, together, mismatched or separately. Nothing has stopped them from asking you to hang out, but there are times where you feel… The Line.

It was Common Sense tingling and telling you that certain occasions were more of a “date-night” rather than friendly get together. And the last thing you wanted to be was a cockblock to your own goddamn friends.

Like tonight, you were tagging along to the late-night-end-of-the-summer beach bar hop bash, with your two pairs of your closest friends. Sam and Ry, short for Ryan. And Liza and K, short for Erik.

Then there’s you, of course.

The three boys were waiting with drinks in hand, while you and Liza took your sweet time climbing the sandy stairs. This was the usual ritual, but you stood alone when you reached the guys. They paired off, easily, naturally, sweetly.

The vibrating radio-centric music drowned out the sounds of the lapping ocean, the conversation you walked into was near unintelligible, and the crowd was excited about something.

God, I wish that were me.

There wasn’t anything wrong with going to this year’s beach bash, as you go to it as a group every year–– it’s just that this time they were holding hands and you were holding a drink. It’s more sour than you’d like.

You were fine coming out “alone,” but who wants to be alone?

You greet one another with warm hugs and Liza immediately dives into a rant about officially moving in with K, and about how he doesn’t wanna mix his laundry with hers–– all those new domestic nuances. 

Sam rolls his eyes and exclaims, “Ry is the same fucking way–– like, it’s just cloth, babe.”

“Easy for you to say when all you wear is black––“ Ry retorts, pushing his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

Everyone starts with a snickering laugh, clinking beer bottles and recanting similar experiences.

Tonight you just don’t feel like it.

Living alone and sleeping alone is one of your specific talents. It’s been nice to have your own fucking bed, your own fucking room, your own fucking space–– all of it to just BE your own fucking self, by your fucking self. You’ve been this way for twenty-odd years now (kind of, you know what i mean). Love and friends are welcome to hang out, but at the end of the day, the place is all yours. And yours alone. That’s what home means to you.

“–– But living together hasn’t been as bad as I thought it would be,” Liza smacks her lips, looking down in short embarrassment. She leans back against K, “There are good things too.”

Sam is quick to point out their PDA, and you take another sip of your drink. You would have spoken up to contribute about your own experiences, once upon a time. But that’s a sore topic you’re not willing to relive on this breezy night.

Instead, you laugh along, crossing your arms while propping your elbow on the bar. You’ll let tonight be as rosy as it can be with no time to dwell. Your drink is near empty, consumed faster than you remember. Someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey.”

You blink dryly, resurfacing. “Hm?”

K is rubbing the side of your arm, those hazel eyes darkened in the low light. His dark brows were raised high, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” you answer easily. You hold up your drink, making a smug face and down it to his bemusement. You shake the empty bottle, setting it back on the table. “Always good.”

He nods slowly, looking over at the other three still gossiping amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but you can only imagining Sam and Liza were poking at each other by the way that Ry was smiling.

K swings his head back to you, “Wanna dance?”

“Sure.”

And you follow him, aware that, no, he didn’t want to dance. He wanted to talk.

You walk away with him, unnoticed by the others and tracing your finger across a brick wall. He stops, leaning against it and you do too. Looking over him, neat clothes and nervous face, you raise a brow.

“Sorry––“ he starts slowly, scratching the back of his neck.

“For what?” You laugh, scrunching your brows as you nod your head to the muffled music.

“This. It’s weird, right? Us. All of us, dating. That last year we were the ones single and you were––“ he sighs, pulling his lip to the side, “Last year was totally different. And now we’re all here, still together. Together-together.”

“Mhm, it was going to happen sooner or later,” you muse. K has loved Liza since Day One. And you and him have both known it, and what it means to him now. His dreams become reality every second that passes.

“Shut up,” he swats at your arm. You see the curl of his smile behind the embarrassment, “Nah. No. But this must be awkward for you, huh?”

You shrug. “Little bit. I’ll get over it, you guys are still my friends.”

His eyes search yours for the real truth. They were all so worried that them coupling up would ruin something, between themselves and with you. Ha. You told they they were stupid for thinking that. You believe in seizing the opportunities, in taking leaps and following your partner around the world–– in theory, at least.

They confided in you individually and you told them all the same thing. Tailored to their personalities, but in the same conceptual vein. 

“If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then at least you tried and you don't have to spend another day wondering ‘what if..?’”

And they bought it. Now, that being said, you already knew that they all fucking liked each other so–– push her and push him and push him and him, and things will fall into place.

It’s just that… the new thing is that you’re the one out out of the loop. You used to be the first to know but now you’re last to find out. And that is strange.

You’re not their number 1 anymore. And there’s nothing you can say about it.

“You’re still my best friend, got it?” K leans his shoulder on yours and you rest yourself against him too. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Today, but not tomorrow.

It’s hard not to be bitter, and it’s horrible that there’s no remedy for it. FOMO is a new-age disease, after all. No science to sort it out yet, no justification to satiate it.

“So…. You talkin’ to anyone? Looking?” He asks too casually for a question he knew you hated. He bumps elbows with you and shake along with it.

“Nope,” your mouth pops at the “p.” 

He raises his brows again, and argh you hate that. There was always someone you were talking to, or someone you’ve been with. But not these days. These days you felt too tired to be someone’s ideal anything. 

“There are some cute guys around, looking at you,” his eyes twinkle a little too brightly for a straight guy with horrible taste. (Facts backed up by Sam, Ry, Liza, AND personal experience) “Plenty of fish, yeah?”

You shake your head, not interested. Sex could come and go, infatuation could come and go–– but you’re kinda tired of the short stuff.  But not exactly ready for a whole-ass relationship either. You don’t need to explain yourself–– you just know you wouldn’t last the night.

“Not in the mood,” you huff.

“Tonight,” he says suggestively, wiggling his shoulders.

You both laugh, you a little bit dryly. You try to direct his attention back to Liza and their budding romance, as the trio finds you guys again. At first they didn’t immediately stand coupled, Ry handing you a drink and Sam going to talk to K. Liza smoothed out her clothes and you all talked about some new plans. It was an honest good time. Ry spilled his drink on Sam, and complained about the laundry again–– Liza got waaaay too drunk and you and K were holding her in your arms while she staggered like Bambi.

It was nice and warm, and a lot like old times. 

I missed that.

You felt yourself smile and let loose–– not thinking of old ex’s or new flings. Just about the friends before you and how safe they made you feel, and how happy you are to see them happy. That’s love, right?

“Oh my god, look!” someone exclaimed, pointing a finger at the sky. You hear a loud clap.

As the night faded and grew colder, fireworks erupted into the sky with a loud crackle. You guys squealed and ran to the top of a sand dune, tripping and tumbling to see the dying summer sights. The fizzing calmed your calls. It’s funny how loud fiery skies filled you with the same awe every time. How it quieted you and made you feel small.

The couples soon held each other, soft embraces with their necks craned upwards. Their eyes twinkled from bursts of lights, smiling at the sharp crackles of sound.

Tonight was the one of many nights they would be able to spend in each other’s arms, so far away and close to you all at once.

This was the line you were cautious about–– you couldn’t talk to them when they were like this, out of courtesy. Out of honoring their moment.

You stood back, watching their excited faces instead of the bursting sky. You felt it. Not jealousy or bitterness, but the awful choke of curiousity and selfishness. The “what if that were me?”

It’s been a while since you’ve had arms wrap over your shoulders and kissed your hair. Enough time has passed for you to forget what that felt like. Too long? What was that like again?

The finale of fireworks struck across the inky, dark sky. You inhaled the smell of chalky smoke, tasting the salt in the air.  Lights and colors fill your eyes, unblinking.

You suck in your cheeks as it quiets and you can hear the ocean again. 

And you let yourself think, I want that again.

So with a new pulse, you went home and did the only logical thing in finding the next Love of Your Life.

You downloaded Tinder.

-

You avoided “serious” dating and being a “serious” anything to anyone, but seeing that “seriousness” in your friends made you wonder if you could be anything like them. If you were ready to open your heart to the possibility of loving and being loved.

Seriously. Sincerely. No bullshit.

This time.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you messed around setting up a profile on Tinder. Regretfully spending way too long shuffling through old selfies that were engaging and enticing. You sigh as you pick through the lot, frustrated at the mind games that have already started.

It’s tiring.

And that’s probably why you end up cracking a few days later and end up telling Sam and Ryan. It was a short two word text, “Tinder. Help?” And you got a speedy reply from both of them (even when you knew they were most likely sat right next to each other). They were at your place in less than an hour.

Sam applauds your efforts, but is only there for moral support more or less. He’s an ace at the dating game, but has no patience to explain his ways. 

“Typical,” You and Ry hum, as Sam rifles through your pantry instead.

Ryan, quiet as he is, sat with you and looked through the photos you choose. He broke down the psychology of it all; about the aloofness and whatever–– which you understood. You need to try hard, but not look like you are. Effortlessness, funny, chic, digestible, likeable–– 

“Performative.” He says flatly, “But this is fast and simple.”

And you have to agree, looking at your phone in his hands.

You blink as you reflect.

This is so much easier in fiction, in those movies where people go on a million dates in one week and match with the hottest fucking dudes ever. Where the protagonist has the perfect amount of self-confidence to keep her moving forward, endless chances to mess up and and still get the guy… God, it’s so easy on paper. There’s no dignity to lose. But here? In the “real” world, even on an app you could delete at anytime–– to put yourself out there? Mortifying.

But, at least you’re bored enough to try.

So, what the fuck, right?

“Did you tell Liza and K yet?” 

“No, they would definitely try to set me up with someone real,” you laugh, leaning back on the couch. You wriggle your toes and tilt your head away.

Ry leans back with you with a brow raised, “Isn’t that… the point?”

Yeah, like, true. They have lots of friends they’re always trying to peddle your way, which is cool and all but… it’s a lot harder to pick and choose and ghost someone when you have mutual contacts.

He read the look on your face and nodded slowly, “Got it, got it.” He laughed to himself, perceptive and cautious. He extends his thoughts, “But you gotta tell us if you actually go and meet anyone. K would kill us if you didn’t say anything.”

“I won’t get into any trouble,” you squint, looking away from him mischievously.

“Uh-huh,” Ry affirms plainly as he swipes right on a few cute boys. 

-

Your experience with dating apps was limited–– you made a joke account a while ago and never really did much with it. Then you had a more “real” account that you never tried sincerely with. You had real people you dated at the time–– uhm. But now, now that you’re actually on here looking… it is bleak.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re winding down with a glass of wine swiping through your options. People you actually knew showed up, and you swiped that shit away so fast you almost chucked your phone with it. You flipped through people who looked fake for real, some older dudes, and plenty of people with vibes you didn’t like–– the pool is so wide you almost didn’t know where to start. And you could afford to be picky, sure. It’s just, who knew that “too many options” would actually be a problem.

You spend the next few days idling checking and chatting, not getting any viable catches. You felt like you were just peering into small windows, head in and head out. Nothing caught your attention long enough for you to want to look in further.

You even start poking at things you never wanted to acknowledge as real, like the impact of cheesy bios, and deciphering who was who in group pics, and the thrilling amount of dudes holding up fish.

Pretty wack.

You felt yourself grow tired of it again. The adrenaline was waning, burnt to the stump. Good thing you didn’t try too hard. Pfft.

You sleepily swipe away on your phone, too late into the night. You blink hard as you snuggle into your covers, muttering, 

“Just one more.”

Ah.

>>  check out the whole bio here <<

“T, 23. Friendly, neighborhood romantic,” you whisper to yourself. You crack a small smile.

After countless swipes left, and (1) accidental swipe right, you match with a blurry boy–– super sus, I know. You don’t know how it happened tbh–– there’s nothing to “look” at, but your eyes fell on this one. Maybe because you just watched “Far From Home,” and enjoyed this spidey reference. Or you’re just innately drawn to the word “romantic.” Could be either, easily.

“It’s a match!”

Shit. You mumble, your profile photos floating together. You take a second to look through his meager collection. They were all obscure and blurry and not exactly in the artsy way.

You couldn’t decipher much, only that he had fair skin (?), with dark hair and dark eyes, but even that was questionable. 

You’re pretty sure you matched with a bot or some old dude, or worse, a kid. You can hardly see his face in the pictures, blurry or cropped or covered.

Okay...

Is that his real name? Probably not. Is he actually 23? Doubt it. Is this going to go anywhere? Let’s hope not.

But whatever, it’s the first “match” that has seemed interesting in the past few days, solely on your pickiness. And this random bastards only gets you out of dumb luck.

You rub your eyes, and set down your phone, resigning to your stupidity.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

Good night.

And the gears were set in motion as you slept.

You had a new message on tinder waiting for you, but you didn’t check the app until much later. You go through your Sunday morning routine, only opening your phone after a light breakfast and stretch. 

“Oh god,” you blink as you catch the red notification. You look around the room, preparing yourself for what could be anything. You take a deep breath and open the chat.

T: Hey

Oh. You stare at it, so bare with no personality to pick at. You wonder if you should even reply, but by the grips of boredom, you do.

You: Hey!

You set your phone down, trying to swallow the short thrill. You walk away for a moment. A reply comes within minutes.

And it’s a goddamn mess.

T: Sorry, i’ve never done this before.

Strike one. You suck in your cheeks. While you’re fairly new at this too, you… don’t know how much time you want to invest it in. Here again, you debate replying back–– but he beats you to it.

T: I’m trying to get over my ex

UHM? Strike two, you almost have to laugh. This is just testing your patience. Your jaw wriggles as you see he has more to say…

T: And you look a lot like her.

Damn. Strike three, he’s out. He’s got to know that would put anyone off, right? Why would you even admit that straight out? T? Come on, man.

You: i’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.

T: it’s an apology now, i didn’t know what to say

You: you could have complimented my killer smile or the pic of me with a dog. Anything but that

T: Right, right. I’m such a dickhead. Sorry, it’s nice to meet you though.

You hold your phone away, debating whether or not you should just delete the entire goddamn thing because this was just too stupid–– but it’s Sunday morning and what do you have left to lose. 

You chew on the side of your lip, deciding to entertain “T,” but don’t spare him any soft words. You’d rather get straight to the point.

You: So… you go by “T?” And don’t have any real pics of your face? Are you even real???

T: Yeah, just private

You: kinda defeats the purpose of putting yourself out there though, right? Lol

T: It’s too easy if i put my face out there

You: oh, ha ha ha. So you’re saying you’re too hot to show your face? Love the confidence dude

And this is where you start actually laughing out loud. You wipe away tears at the side of your eyes, cackling at this display of internet confidence. It’s a tiny piece of amusement from a stranger you have 0 feelings for, and you’re not going to be mean to him… but you’ll definitely poke fun to see how far you can get.

Besides, he’s still replying back right? That’s almost hilarious in itself.

T: Hey, confidence is sexy, right?

You: yeah, more in person than online! 😂 (Laughing emoji)

You take a second to scroll back through his photos, and check to see if he has a link to instagram, twitter, anything. But he doesn’t. You try to pull up any evidence you can–– and at the very least, these blurry pics all look like they’re taken of the same person.

Slight build with dark curled hair–– rippable from any ambiguous online “hot boy” mood board though. 

You’re wary.

You spot a picture with his smile, crinkled eye and lifted lip. You could swear he looked familiar… but maybe that’s because you’ve seen that same white boy/model on Pinterest.

Maybe.

T: wanna meet up and see for yourself?

You: maybe if you show me your face first

T: can’t do that quite yet, but I’d love to keep talking to you

You furrow your brows as you read his words. He would be down to meeting up with you upfront, but hesitates to send you a picture beforehand? That’s definitely a red flag, right? Right?

(Yes. Yes it is.)

You pull yourself back and let out a deep sigh. You’re probably the only person he’s talking to, especially with those purposeful (?) blurry pics and cryptic everything. Ugh.

It’s not playing yourself if you know it’s fake right? You can step out of this at anytime.

You: as long as you can hold my attention :) 

T: I’ll try my very best ✌🏼 (peace sign emoji)

–– and with some very, very loose banter…. you end up exchanging numbers. You’ve put the whole Tinder thing on pause for now–– all four days of it. All for one stranger with no tact.

Unknown Number: hey, this is t (smiley face)

You: pfffft, I’m going to call you Blurry Boy. Since your name obviously isn’t T

BB: that’s fine with me :) mind if i call you darling?

You: ew

BB: o come on. It’s cute

You: please tell me you’re actually 23 or i swear to god I’m going to fucking lose it

BB: I swear 🤞🏼 (fingers crossed emoji)

You: ok. Prove it. Send me a pic of you–– you face or whatever

Ok. That’s a leap. He could rip a picture from anywhere but let’s see how fast he could do it. If it takes too long, then he probably did just rip it from the internet.

And if he makes a mistake and actually sends you a clear pic of himself? Well, that could only be seen as a win.

BB: 

But you are ruthless.

You: ok. Send me another one.

And he could stop if he wanted to.

Only, he doesn’t. In a short moment, he sends another picture.

BB:

Same room, same face, same glasses. I guess you could believe him… for now. No matter how shitty the photos have end up....

But he could also be one of those people with folders full of stock photos… you never know.

But putting paranoia aside, you decide to turn off the heat a lil. You grab your coffee and sit on your couch, sliding into a comfy position. You turn on some YouTube videos on your laptop, watching the first few seconds as you lean your cheek against the couch cushions.

Phew.

You: thanks…. sorry I’m so paranoid. But you truly have the worst pictures of yourself put up there. Potato quality.

BB: nah, i know. I get it. Haha it’s alright, a pretty girl like you needs to protect herself

You: oh BOY that doesn’t make me feel any better 😂(laughing emoji)

BB: fuck, sorry. Ugh that is fuckin creepy. Shit. I’m terrible at texting

You: no, no. It’s alright. Actually, great job with taking those photos so fast. Most people would have taken sooooo much longer. You get a few points for not holding back

BB: babe, i told you. I’m gorgeous. I don’t gotta worry about it 😂😂💕 (laughing emojis)

You: right, right blurry boy. Great job with all those fuzzy ass photos.  🙄 (Eye roll emoji) haha are you really looking for someone out here or…?

BB: sort of. I’m testing out the waters and… you’re really pretty

You have to blink back and roll your eye, you’re unable to digest this conversation as real. They’re flowery words given to you, for sure, but your suspicion is much stronger. Your guard will not let down or be appeased by some blurry ass dude calling you “pretty.”

He replies before you have the chance.

BB: i dont wanna get into the messy details but yeah. Company sounds great right about now

You: yeah, i feel that

It’s a real and valid reply, but it’s a terrible one. It’s so hard for someone to reply back to that–– but you’re testing his perseverance. If he finds something to say back, it might just prove one more thing to you. That he might actually be interested, and someone worth talking to.

BB: sorry i lead with my baggage, I’m a fucking mess

You: *a confident fucking mess

BB: thank you 😇 (angel emoji)

You: don’t worry about it, I’ve seen worse

 You laugh darkly to yourself. I’ve been worse.

BB: hahahaha thanks. Ok. But all that aside… real talk now. Can I ask you about the dog in your photo now?

You hate to admit that your lips curled into a smile, as you hastily type back. 

Your coffee was half drank and cold by now. The YouTube video you were supposed to be watching has moved onto part two. 

You eyes are still scanning your text screen, waiting to see those three bouncing dots at the bottom left hand corner. 

He’s not the worst–– and at most, even if this turns out to be fake, this is just your Sunday morning entertainment. Nothing more and nothing less. These are just insignificant texts that will probably lead to a few lost days, or mediocre sex at best.

So, whatever, right?

-

MONDAY MORNING

BB: good morning! ☀️ (sun emoji)

You: well you sure get up early. Good morning 

BB: Haha, I like to start the week as soon as i can. Do you drink coffee or tea in the morning?

You: coffee most days. You?

BB: i drink tea, darling

You: yeah that’s probably better for you haha. Less expensive too.

BB: mhm, definitely cheaper if you come over and i make you a cup

You: wow, the flirting starts the second the sun is up, huh?

BB: what, still too early? 

You: never too early

BB: do you brew the coffee yourself?

You: some mornings. I usually pop into XX Cafe midday if i can.

BB: catch you there? 😂 (laughing emoji) nah, i’ll have to check the place out. I don’t know this area too well.

You: i guess if you can find me! I’m usually in and out pretty fast. Got places to be you know? Hm, did you just move here?

BB: yeah, i got settled in about a week ago

You: staying long?

BB: long enough

You: oh ha ha. Seriously not suspicious at all

BB: yeah I’m in town for a month or two. I’m getting away from work and stress for a minute

You: and you chose here?

BB: quiet enough for me. 😌 (smiley face) and you’re here so that’s a plus

You: relentless

BB: and nothing less.

-

MONDAY EVENING

BB: you haven’t seen that series? You’re crazy

You: whaaat! It’s not my thing. AND i don’t have time for it

BB: it’s a masterpiece, come on! Who doesn’t like laughing? It’s funny! You’ll like it

You: you’re gonna owe me a drink if don’t like it

BB: I’ll gladly buy you one right now if that’s what it takes to get you to watch it

You: ugh, i guess if you recommend it i can tryyyy…

BB: you won’t regret it!

You: ugh you are so annoying. What are you up to right now?

BB: reading emails and talking to you

You: haha what’s so important that you’re reading an email at like 11. Gotta turn on that “do not disturb” dude

BB: I can’t mute the work stuff, unfortunately

You: so if i called you over tonight you wouldn’t be able to? “Because of work?”

BB: you serious? I’m only taking serious offers right now

You: No! It’s monday. Can’t indulge you that early in the week

BB:  what a shame. I’d drop it in a heartbeat for you

You: Nice to know 

BB: I’ve got a feeling that I shouldn’t have told you that (laughing emoji)

You:  😈 (devil emoji)

-

TUESDAY MORNING

BB: good morning!

You: hey! I remembered I had some tea back at my apartment so… just wanted to let you know you had an impact on my day 🙄😊 (eye roll emoji and smiley face emoji)

BB: I could still make a better cup for you 😘 (kissy face emoji)

You: right. What do you have planned today?

BB: hmm, I’m heading out to the gym. Then I might explore the city a bit. Bump into me?

You: well, I don’t know if I could recognize you even if i wanted to

BB: you’ll recognize me

You: haha, okay? Wait, do I know you? –– if this is a prank… 

BB: it’s not! 

You: .. that wouldn’t be cool.

BB: it’s not a prank! There’s just a lot of things I can’t tell you just yet. It’d be a lot easier if we were able to meet up in person.

You: why?

BB: I’m pretty private. It’s really hard for me to just… share certain things with you. But I want to! SO badly! I just can’t send you a whole picture of my face. It’s complicated.

You: Sorry? I don’t get it.

BB: Ahhhh. This is going to sound so bad. I trust you, like as a person. But also I can’t trust you. If you meet me–– you’ll understand why. I’m sorry. 

You: Okay…? And you have to understand that this sounds absolutely batshit to me, right? Like it’s pretty hard to trust you like this. 

BB: yeah I know. I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me. But honestly, it’s nice to be able to talk to you like this and I hope we can continue to chat. I really do like you.

You: … That is really unfair.

BB: I know! I’m sorry. Give me another day or two–– i have a few things to figure out but, I SWEAR i’m not lying to you. I promise it’ll make sense soon

You: well, if you promise you’re not a creep….

BB: I’m not!

You: and that you’re not using me as a replacement for your ex

BB: I won’t!

You: you are SO lucky i’m patient

BB: and kind. And beautiful. And amazing.

You: you’re pushing it, blurry boy. I just need you to realize how unfair this is.

BB: I do. And I know. I’m sorry.

You: what are you looking for here? With me or with anyone you would have met from the app?

BB: a home away from home

You: yeah i read that in your bio. What does that mean?

BB: I’m looking for someone I can spend time with and trust with my whole heart

You: ha ha

BB: I’m serious. It’s hard to find.

You: you’re a real romantic, that’s for sure

-

TUESDAY EVENING

You: you have a DOG and you didn’t tell me?

BB: what, you’re not interested in the fact that I have younger twin brothers and another 8 years younger than me? ‘Always about Tessa

You: obviously! Send a pic!

BB: 

You: is this from right now?

BB: nah, something I took ages ago. I had to leave her back home with my family.

You: aww, that’s too bad.

BB:  would you come over if she were here?

You: Duh! And I guess you’d have to make me a cup.

BB: sounds lovely. Let’s make it a date

You: ha ha. You miss home?

BB: More than you know. I travel A LOT

You: well, call back often! They would be happy to know you miss them! Loneliness is not a great feeling.

BB: I do, all the time! And definitely not a good feeling. So, it’s really nice to talk to you. Thank you.

You: Sorry, I’m not a very great conversational partner. But still happy to hear that

BB: You are. You’re still here

You: You are too.

BB: You already mean a lot to me

You: Have you been in many relationships? (Or hookups idk)

BB: No, and not really. I’ve only been in a handful of long-term relationships

You: Interesting

BB: What?

You: Just wondering if you are really catching feelings for me

BB: Guilty. You?

You: I don’t think I know enough about you to catch anything. No offense 😬😅(cringe emoji, laughing emoji)

BB: Ha, no. I meant if you’ve been in many relationships?

You: Oh! Sorry. A few of either. Did long-term once. Didn’t work out, obviously–– so here I am. That’s that.

BB: Guess we both have a past to bury

You: Please don’t say anything about “burying yourself into my pussy to feel better”

BB: WHAT. I wasn’t even thinking about that. That’s all you 👀

You: Hey, you’ve been pretty quick all the other times, bud.

BB: If I tell you I want more than just sex, does that make you feel better?

You: It makes me think about the fact that you still want to have sex with me

BB: And I can’t deny that 😊 (smiley blushy face emoji)

-

WEDNESDAY MORNING:

BB: Good morning!

You: Morning! Little later than usual–– sleeping in?

BB: Yeah, since I can afford to. You replied quicker than usual. Were you waiting for me? 😉 (wink emoji)

You: Haha, you wish. I was already on my phone, stud.

BB: Right, right. I can tell you like to play hard to get

You: No I don’t!

BB: 😂 (laughing emoji)

You: I don’t!

BB: Wow, feels great to finally have something to hold over you 

You: I hate you 🙄 (eye roll emoji)

BB: Have a nice day, love 😊🌈(smiley face, rainbow emoji)

-

PING! 

“BB? Who is bb?” Liza asks you on Wednesday evening after seeing a notification pop up on your phone. She grabs it off the sticky cafe table and looks at you with her pretty head tilted.

Oh––

You wiggle your jaw, and raise your brows,

 “No one important.” 

You take your phone back and open the message discreetly. It’s nothing special, you’re sure, but you have to look.

BB: so have you seen the last episode yet????? Hello??

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone!” She pleads, putting down the drink in her hands. You were at the mall, idly walking and taking a short break. She looks at you pointedly, eyes darting around your face for any spot of weakness, as she quietly whines, “You didn’t tell us anything about this…”

“It’s because I’m not––”  You offer, nodding. You flip your phone upside down as the message lights up again. “–– seeing anyone.”

She gives you a squinted look of total disbelief.

You’ve been messaging “Blurry Boy” nonstop for the past few days. First you talked about nothing, and now you’re asking each other about how your day was going and what you’re doing now, and what you’re doing later. 

You always find something. Your phone is constantly by your side, sound on.

And there’s a layer of real time now, now that you’ve gotten to know him and his schedule better.

You learn that he has his own cute dog name Tessa and that his family fosters dogs back home, and that he’s the oldest, with twin brothers and a younger one he’s been trying desperately to relate to. You find out that his favorite color is black and that he’s in deep shit for stealing his best friend’s fav hoodie. All of this makes him feel like someone you know, someone you could call a friend.

He feels like more than just some guy you’ve talked to waaaay too long from Tinder.

And what’s worse, is that he knows certain things about you too. He knows that you don’t like sleeping in the dark and that you’re borderline addicted to iced coffee. That you like rewatching old romcoms and classic spooky movies… That your back hurts from work and that you have a fucking dentist appointment on Thursday. 

You know a lot more about each other than less. And that’s kinda really fucking weird.

“You’re always smiling at your phone,” Liza says flatly, picking her drink back up to take a long and loud sip. Major side-eye. “‘Fess up.”

“No, I’m not!” You say through your teeth, trying to not smile. But under her stare you melt and crack under pressure.

You keep telling yourself that you’ll stop replying–– that he’s super sus and this isn’t going anywhere. But… you just keep texting him back.

“It’s nothing, seriously.”

“Let me see,” she pouts. “Pleeeease.” She flaps her hands at you, wriggling her fingers.

“No!”

Even though you know that it’s a losing game with her, you try to put up a fight, turning away and holding your phone tightly. You have onlookers now from the squealing, kicking and creaking chairs.

You give in after a minute.

You hand your phone in defeat as you readjust yourselves. You clear your throat.

“Okay, okay. But this is like, not serious at all, okay.” You rationalize as you show her the pictures you had screenshot and saved from him. “I barely know him.”

Barely! You’ve chanted that in your head over and over. Not enough to know if you want to get to know him, or what to drop him. That’s the purgatory you’ve been living in.

Liza is uncharacteristically quiet as she scrolls up and down the chats and flips through the pictures. Her hair covers whatever expression she’s making.

That makes you nervous, and you start babbling.

“Yeah, I mean. I don’t think he’s real or anything–– It’s just for fun and it’s whatever. I don’t even care.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

She freezes on a picture of him. The one where you can see a part of his smile and a crinkled eye. She zooms in and pauses again.

?

“Babe?” Her voice is cautious and slow. God. You don’t want to hear what she has to say next with this tone of voice…

“Hm?” You attempt to perk up, hiding the fact that you just gulped with nerves. It feels like you’re holding something sour in your mouth.

I don’t like this...

“So, he seems like a super nice guy and all but…” She speaks gingerly and wide eyed.

“But what?” You feel yourself recoil. 

As much as you talk a big game… it would still hurt to have this illusion shattered. This self-inflicted fantasy. You don’t want her to keep going. 

But you can guess what’s coming next.

...

“I… I think he’s using pictures of Tom Holland.”

…

…

…

Wait…...

What?!

-

A.N: WAH! she’s back!! well, as much as she can be. haha i know i have a million things always running at the same time but... i really will just ride the wave of inspiration as it comes.... that’s all i can do. anyway, hope you like this series! it’s going to be an exploration of starting new relationships in your young adulthood–– and how to handle be “The one” after “The One.” it’ll be a good time.

Thank you guys for reading! Please like, comment and reblog :) You’re all amazing. 

Much Love,

Madmadmilk 💫

** i do NOT keep up with a taglist. track #one after the one to keep up with the updates, or check out my masterlist! thanks!